Wednesday, September 28, 2005
DOES BETTY FORD ACCEPT PETS?
A couple of weeks ago I took my five year old collie, Madison, for her yearly shake down that "the Man" requires. She received her rabies shot, her Lepro shot, and all her other immunizations. I'm thinking of enrolling her in kindergarten since she is now fully immunized. I got a wonderful blue tag to go on her collar for all the effort and I also paid the bill to Douglas County which requires all this hoopla plus a fee for registering the dog. Registered for what I don't know? If I lived in Chicago the Democrats would probably have her voting. Maybe she can now carry a hand gun? And I really don't know what the "fee" is for since the County has no animal control unit. However, I think I might have an inkling of how it might be used....for doggie and kitty rehab.
Now Collies go through a shedding period which generally runs from January to December.... Seriously, during the change of seasons, you have all this hair coming out, all this hair coming in and underneath the beautiful long hair on the outer coat do you know what you'll find? No, not Jimmy Hoffa. MORE HAIR! This of course can lead to much biting and chewing and grooming much like you might find backstage at a beauty pageant. Now, one of our omni-present neighborhood experts pronounced she had fleas.(which she most certainly does not) It does turn out that the real vet says she has allergies, probably to grass etc... So, Madison was sent home with prescriptions for Cephalexin and Clemastine. They cost about 20 bucks a piece so I did not envision a drug run on a bus to Canada with a bunch of other pet owners....yet.
Somehow I was conned into being convinced she also needed her teeth cleaned. This would involve anesthesia for the cleaning, the tooth pulling, the capping, and dentures for all I knew. I agreed because what kind of pet owner would I be if my dog did not have that Pepsodent smile. My Mom picked her up from the vet and called me to tell me she was really out of it.
When I got home, I had to agree. On top of the other two rx, we now have Allerderm EFA-CAPS(dermatologist recommended), Elodolac(sounds like yodeling doesn't it), Ciprofloxacin, and some CET Dental Rinse(rinse and spit!). She also got the mother of all drugs, Prednisolone. Now, my Mom was taking this for her arthritis and it made her feel great but the doctor cut her off because you only take it for so long because it is a steroid. So now my dog will have clean teeth, great skin, an even temperment, and healthy joints. Next thing you know she'll be moving out, getting an apartment of her own, meeting the right fella.... (cue Mary Tyler Moore music) you're gonna make it after all (as she jauntily tosses her milk bone in the air).
However, as I stood and stared at the budding pharmacy on the counter I began to think....w.w.j.d....what would Judy do(as in Garland). Well, we all KNOW what she would have done and it struck fear into my heart. I resolved to carefully monitor my furry, four-legged daughter for signs of chemical dependence. I did not want her giving the cat, Miss Emmy, cash to go out and drug shop for Oxycontin or anything like that.
I thought I might hang a picture of Nancy Reagan over her dog dish, JUST SAY NO! I might make her watch some videotapes of Liza Minelli, Boy George, or Elizabeth Taylor. That should scare her "straight". In the end, I'll probably just hope and pray that I have raised her to make sound and moral decisions. Oh, Lord......MOM! outta the Prednisolone! We got bus tickets to Canada for that.
Now Collies go through a shedding period which generally runs from January to December.... Seriously, during the change of seasons, you have all this hair coming out, all this hair coming in and underneath the beautiful long hair on the outer coat do you know what you'll find? No, not Jimmy Hoffa. MORE HAIR! This of course can lead to much biting and chewing and grooming much like you might find backstage at a beauty pageant. Now, one of our omni-present neighborhood experts pronounced she had fleas.(which she most certainly does not) It does turn out that the real vet says she has allergies, probably to grass etc... So, Madison was sent home with prescriptions for Cephalexin and Clemastine. They cost about 20 bucks a piece so I did not envision a drug run on a bus to Canada with a bunch of other pet owners....yet.
Somehow I was conned into being convinced she also needed her teeth cleaned. This would involve anesthesia for the cleaning, the tooth pulling, the capping, and dentures for all I knew. I agreed because what kind of pet owner would I be if my dog did not have that Pepsodent smile. My Mom picked her up from the vet and called me to tell me she was really out of it.
When I got home, I had to agree. On top of the other two rx, we now have Allerderm EFA-CAPS(dermatologist recommended), Elodolac(sounds like yodeling doesn't it), Ciprofloxacin, and some CET Dental Rinse(rinse and spit!). She also got the mother of all drugs, Prednisolone. Now, my Mom was taking this for her arthritis and it made her feel great but the doctor cut her off because you only take it for so long because it is a steroid. So now my dog will have clean teeth, great skin, an even temperment, and healthy joints. Next thing you know she'll be moving out, getting an apartment of her own, meeting the right fella.... (cue Mary Tyler Moore music) you're gonna make it after all (as she jauntily tosses her milk bone in the air).
However, as I stood and stared at the budding pharmacy on the counter I began to think....w.w.j.d....what would Judy do(as in Garland). Well, we all KNOW what she would have done and it struck fear into my heart. I resolved to carefully monitor my furry, four-legged daughter for signs of chemical dependence. I did not want her giving the cat, Miss Emmy, cash to go out and drug shop for Oxycontin or anything like that.
I thought I might hang a picture of Nancy Reagan over her dog dish, JUST SAY NO! I might make her watch some videotapes of Liza Minelli, Boy George, or Elizabeth Taylor. That should scare her "straight". In the end, I'll probably just hope and pray that I have raised her to make sound and moral decisions. Oh, Lord......MOM! outta the Prednisolone! We got bus tickets to Canada for that.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
HE PITCHED A GREAT GAME
What does a boy say about his father? Or what does a man say about his father? I guess he is the person that shapes our lives and molds us into what we are as adults. Well, of course. Actually, my Dad would think that too dramatic! Nevertheless, he definitely is a large figure in your life. In my case, a HUGE figure! At 6 feet 6 inches, Dad towered amongst the other fathers, and mothers, and mother's fathers, etc... His hands were as big as my head! I remember that when I was little. My Dad, given name Martin but called Bud by everyone he knew well, towered over the world. He scared me when I was little. But I was probably the only one!
My Dad was a gentle giant. He may have been very imposing physically but he very seldom chose to use his size to intimidate. Unless of course he was on a basketball court or on a pitching mound. He worked hard to please his parents, his sisters, his wife and his family. He turned down the "big" leagues of baseball for the "big" leagues of parenthood. He was a family man through and through.
Dad always sacrificed, for others, to a fault. If a kid in town needed shoes, Stock's was the place to go even if your family did not have the money. Dad was there leading the School Board, the Merchants Committee, the Methodist Church and the PTA. He would step up to the plate for those who needed a voice and did not have the means to speak! Boy, he could make some people mad! Nevertheless, the next week, he would be shaking hands with them and making, along with their help, my hometown of Arthur a better place to live.
I just wish my Dad would have known the impact he made! Dad led by supplying others an example. What made my Dad great in my eyes is that he always let those he led take credit for the victory. He generated ideas and plans, gave them to others and let them fly! Much like he did with his kids.
Especially his son. My Dad was the kind of athlete that small towns talk about for decades! Actually, big towns would have talked about him for decades. Yet, he did the most difficult thing any father can ever do.....he let his son be his own person. His daughters too. I was not a quick study. I was a challenge. And boy did we have some major fights and disagreements! Too much alike, Mom would say. Eventually, the most important thing Dad ever told me was "you can always come home to your family no matter what".
Now, when I was a hot shot living in the DC metro area, I thought that was just a kindly sentiment. But, when life started dealing me harsh blows I was not accustomed to, I actually took him up on the offer! I came home. Dad was there. He was larger than life. He still was "huge". But like always, his hands were soft and gentle when he patted me on the back and reminded me that I was always welcome.
Today would have been Dad's 77th birthday. I just want you all to know he pitched a great game! He gave up three hits(Marty, Sally, Kent) and no errors. He was credited with batting in more "runs" than he would ever know. Of course, the "save" he would insist go to Pibby, my Mom, because he would have never, ever made it without her. And rightly so.
Did he pitch a perfect game? No. Did he pitch a complete game? Without a doubt.
Miss ya Dad. Even though I sometimes can't get a hit, I'll keep going up to the plate.
My Dad was a gentle giant. He may have been very imposing physically but he very seldom chose to use his size to intimidate. Unless of course he was on a basketball court or on a pitching mound. He worked hard to please his parents, his sisters, his wife and his family. He turned down the "big" leagues of baseball for the "big" leagues of parenthood. He was a family man through and through.
Dad always sacrificed, for others, to a fault. If a kid in town needed shoes, Stock's was the place to go even if your family did not have the money. Dad was there leading the School Board, the Merchants Committee, the Methodist Church and the PTA. He would step up to the plate for those who needed a voice and did not have the means to speak! Boy, he could make some people mad! Nevertheless, the next week, he would be shaking hands with them and making, along with their help, my hometown of Arthur a better place to live.
I just wish my Dad would have known the impact he made! Dad led by supplying others an example. What made my Dad great in my eyes is that he always let those he led take credit for the victory. He generated ideas and plans, gave them to others and let them fly! Much like he did with his kids.
Especially his son. My Dad was the kind of athlete that small towns talk about for decades! Actually, big towns would have talked about him for decades. Yet, he did the most difficult thing any father can ever do.....he let his son be his own person. His daughters too. I was not a quick study. I was a challenge. And boy did we have some major fights and disagreements! Too much alike, Mom would say. Eventually, the most important thing Dad ever told me was "you can always come home to your family no matter what".
Now, when I was a hot shot living in the DC metro area, I thought that was just a kindly sentiment. But, when life started dealing me harsh blows I was not accustomed to, I actually took him up on the offer! I came home. Dad was there. He was larger than life. He still was "huge". But like always, his hands were soft and gentle when he patted me on the back and reminded me that I was always welcome.
Today would have been Dad's 77th birthday. I just want you all to know he pitched a great game! He gave up three hits(Marty, Sally, Kent) and no errors. He was credited with batting in more "runs" than he would ever know. Of course, the "save" he would insist go to Pibby, my Mom, because he would have never, ever made it without her. And rightly so.
Did he pitch a perfect game? No. Did he pitch a complete game? Without a doubt.
Miss ya Dad. Even though I sometimes can't get a hit, I'll keep going up to the plate.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
WHEN BUTTERFLIES ATTACK
It has been a very long, hot summer. Too hot maybe. What does that mean, well, I don't really know as it has nothing to do with the tale I am about to relate or maybe it has everything to do with the tale I am about to relate, I'll let you decide.
After pulling the car into the garage the other night, I got out, of course because I was not going to spend the night in the garage you see. As I was leaving through the front of the garage to get the flags in, I notice what looked to be an injured monarch butterfly lying in the driveway. Now, I figured I had either run over the monarch on the way in, the monarch had spent the last ten minutes being a cat toy for Miss Emmy our kitty, or had become attached to the front of the vehicle as I was driving home in a failed attempt by the butterfly to recreate Leonardo DiCaprio's "king of the world" scene from Titanic(by the way, I rooted for the iceberg)
I bent over and reached to pick it up as butterflies are one of the few "bugs" of which I am not deathly, scream like a little girl afraid. Until the other night that is. The monarch, evidently faking the injury much like a professional soccer player, leapt into flight from the concrete. I swear I saw fangs dripping blood as the possibly rabid insect flew at my face. Since I am still able to move like the wind at 41(or maybe that is break wind?) I dodged the orange and black satin missile, but just narrowly. The butterfly flew high above and then like a kamikaze pilot from WWII dove at me, the helpless hulking battleship. Once again I dodged just in time. Do battleships scream? I then proceeded to run out the side door as the butterfly proceeded to throw things around in the garage. I'm not quite sure but I think it tried to start the lawn mower.
Then silence, I peeked in the side door. KEY PSYCHO SHOWER SCENE MUSIC The butterfly flew at me, this time actually brushing my face as I stumbled back out into the yard, flailing my arms in the air. I'm surprised the neighbors did not call 9-1-1. Um, Hello, 911 Mr Stock is over in his back yard and, um is quite possibly, um, uh having a seizure. Are you sure he is not just doing a raindance. Well, he is a little strange but we are pretty sure........the phone line goes dead as the Monarch from hell cuts the wires........I managed to make it into the safety of my home. I used the remote to close the door.
KEY THEME FROM JAWS The next morning was bright and sunny. It was calm. Too calm. Even though last night I had looked into the face of danger, I suffer from short-term memory loss which I attribute to being raised as a Cubs fan, I was blissfully unaware this beautiful morning. Too blissfully unaware.
MORE JAWS MUSIC I approach the garage with the voice of Martika screaming in my head, step by step, heart to heart, left right left, we all fall doooown, like tooooy soldiers, I walked through the side door in the garage. Now, if you have seen the movie Halloween, the original not the 20 or so sequels, serial killer bait teen number one goes out to her car, she forgets the keys, goes back, gets the keys and proceeds to open the door without using them. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. She sits there, looks at the front windshield which is all fogged over, and thinks hey, this car wasn't even locked. DEAD MEAT GIRLFRIEND! Well, I was butterfly bait as soon as I walked in the door. I paused as I pressed the button to open the front, I left this door open last night which means.....KEY SHARK ATTACK MUSIC There it was, hammer in hand, flying towards me. BUTTERFLY FROM HELL!!!!! I actually fell down trying to get out of the garage, which is probably what saved me from a direct hit. I then got up and proceeded to run in and out the doors of the garage with the butterfly hot on my heels. Feet don't fail me now.
ARTHUR EMTS: 911 dispatch
My neighbors: Um, yeah, we live here on Poplar Street and our neighbor Mr, um, Stock
ARTHUR EMTS: sigh
My neighbors: Well, he is being attacked, by, um, what is that honey....oh, um, yes a danaus plexippus
ARTHUR EMTS: You watch your mouth. A what?
My neighbor: A damn monarch butterfly
ARTHUR EMTS: Sir, are you off your meds again?
I have contemplated, lo these past few days, about just what caused this unwarranted attack. Some would probably say global warming because they believe in junk science that fits their political goals. Others would find a religious meaning and quote the Bible, "and so it was, God was ticked, and yeah he sent the butterfly to smote those that needed the smoting..." Many would blame President Bush because they are perhaps more insane than the butterfly. Drinking? Drugs? A troubled home life? The breakup and subsequent reunion and subsequent re-breakup of the GoGo's? Who knows.
Personally, I think he let me live so I could tell the tale. My ordeal could serve as a warning to others perhaps. So, on a bright sunny day with the young uns gathered round I could recount my horrifying struggle with the KILLAH BUTTAFLY. Their eyes wide with wonder and a whole new respect for the species. Meanwhile, I live with one eye to the sky, they may float like a butterfly but STING LIKE A BEE.
KEY SHARK MUSIC ONE MORE TIME!!
After pulling the car into the garage the other night, I got out, of course because I was not going to spend the night in the garage you see. As I was leaving through the front of the garage to get the flags in, I notice what looked to be an injured monarch butterfly lying in the driveway. Now, I figured I had either run over the monarch on the way in, the monarch had spent the last ten minutes being a cat toy for Miss Emmy our kitty, or had become attached to the front of the vehicle as I was driving home in a failed attempt by the butterfly to recreate Leonardo DiCaprio's "king of the world" scene from Titanic(by the way, I rooted for the iceberg)
I bent over and reached to pick it up as butterflies are one of the few "bugs" of which I am not deathly, scream like a little girl afraid. Until the other night that is. The monarch, evidently faking the injury much like a professional soccer player, leapt into flight from the concrete. I swear I saw fangs dripping blood as the possibly rabid insect flew at my face. Since I am still able to move like the wind at 41(or maybe that is break wind?) I dodged the orange and black satin missile, but just narrowly. The butterfly flew high above and then like a kamikaze pilot from WWII dove at me, the helpless hulking battleship. Once again I dodged just in time. Do battleships scream? I then proceeded to run out the side door as the butterfly proceeded to throw things around in the garage. I'm not quite sure but I think it tried to start the lawn mower.
Then silence, I peeked in the side door. KEY PSYCHO SHOWER SCENE MUSIC The butterfly flew at me, this time actually brushing my face as I stumbled back out into the yard, flailing my arms in the air. I'm surprised the neighbors did not call 9-1-1. Um, Hello, 911 Mr Stock is over in his back yard and, um is quite possibly, um, uh having a seizure. Are you sure he is not just doing a raindance. Well, he is a little strange but we are pretty sure........the phone line goes dead as the Monarch from hell cuts the wires........I managed to make it into the safety of my home. I used the remote to close the door.
KEY THEME FROM JAWS The next morning was bright and sunny. It was calm. Too calm. Even though last night I had looked into the face of danger, I suffer from short-term memory loss which I attribute to being raised as a Cubs fan, I was blissfully unaware this beautiful morning. Too blissfully unaware.
MORE JAWS MUSIC I approach the garage with the voice of Martika screaming in my head, step by step, heart to heart, left right left, we all fall doooown, like tooooy soldiers, I walked through the side door in the garage. Now, if you have seen the movie Halloween, the original not the 20 or so sequels, serial killer bait teen number one goes out to her car, she forgets the keys, goes back, gets the keys and proceeds to open the door without using them. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. She sits there, looks at the front windshield which is all fogged over, and thinks hey, this car wasn't even locked. DEAD MEAT GIRLFRIEND! Well, I was butterfly bait as soon as I walked in the door. I paused as I pressed the button to open the front, I left this door open last night which means.....KEY SHARK ATTACK MUSIC There it was, hammer in hand, flying towards me. BUTTERFLY FROM HELL!!!!! I actually fell down trying to get out of the garage, which is probably what saved me from a direct hit. I then got up and proceeded to run in and out the doors of the garage with the butterfly hot on my heels. Feet don't fail me now.
ARTHUR EMTS: 911 dispatch
My neighbors: Um, yeah, we live here on Poplar Street and our neighbor Mr, um, Stock
ARTHUR EMTS: sigh
My neighbors: Well, he is being attacked, by, um, what is that honey....oh, um, yes a danaus plexippus
ARTHUR EMTS: You watch your mouth. A what?
My neighbor: A damn monarch butterfly
ARTHUR EMTS: Sir, are you off your meds again?
I have contemplated, lo these past few days, about just what caused this unwarranted attack. Some would probably say global warming because they believe in junk science that fits their political goals. Others would find a religious meaning and quote the Bible, "and so it was, God was ticked, and yeah he sent the butterfly to smote those that needed the smoting..." Many would blame President Bush because they are perhaps more insane than the butterfly. Drinking? Drugs? A troubled home life? The breakup and subsequent reunion and subsequent re-breakup of the GoGo's? Who knows.
Personally, I think he let me live so I could tell the tale. My ordeal could serve as a warning to others perhaps. So, on a bright sunny day with the young uns gathered round I could recount my horrifying struggle with the KILLAH BUTTAFLY. Their eyes wide with wonder and a whole new respect for the species. Meanwhile, I live with one eye to the sky, they may float like a butterfly but STING LIKE A BEE.
KEY SHARK MUSIC ONE MORE TIME!!
CRAZY LIKE A HORSE
After Rushmore, we took a short drive over to the nearby Crazy Horse Monument. It is supposed to bigger, it is, and better, it is not. Of course, it is also not finished nor does it appear that it will be finished any time in the near future. A fellow tourist bent down to tell her granddaughter that she could bring her kids here to watch them work on it...and their kids.....and their kids. It certainly will be impressive when complete though. If ever.....
We went into the Visitors Center, Museum and Cultural Center where we watched a short film about the history of the monument, the sculptor, the Indians, and the plans for the entire site which included a University, a medical center, athletic complexes and other buildings dedicated to the orignal Americans culture and history. Like the monument itself..............none of this has been completed. The sculptor, Korczak Ziolkowski, his wife and eleven kids have worked and lived at the site since they began work in 1948. For nearly 60 years, and all there is to show for what was promised the Indians is a "face", a small museum, and a cultural center which was basically nothing more than a market.
Sad, sad, sad. Much like Indian history in North America since the outside world arrived in large numbers. I can understand the monument taking such a long time to build but there is no University, no medical center, none of the very impressive things promised to Chief Standing Bear and his fellow Lakota. It reminded me of a modern day version of the roadside teepees you used to see travelling west on the highway many years ago. Where tourists could buy trinkets and novelties from people who were maybe original Americans or maybe not. Those disappeared as victims of political correctness long ago, along with probably several thousand Indians legitimate livelihood, only to be replaced by the modern day version of the roadside teepee which is this monument.
How depressing! What litte Indian history I know about, and no I don't count the mythological indoctrination taking place on today's college campuses as legitimate history, Crazy Horse was not a victim. And that is exactly what this whole "failed" memorial concept reminds me of, a continued victimization of a people and a culture who were the first Americans. I love history and I would love to know more about the people of North America prior to the arrival of others. Pathetically, like so many other things today their history is politicized to the point that not only were the numbers of Indians physically decimated but now these liberal "do-gooders" are turning their history and culture into something akin to trolls, gnomes, and other creatures of folklore. This culture faces complete elimination now by those who purport to support it! This memorial screams out that it is more about, once again, the white man than about the Indian. And it is a crying shame.
I am a Native American and these people are the original Native Americans and I want to learn about the history and culture of this land without trying to play the "my monument is bigger than your monument" childish game. Visiting there made me sad and disgusted. Now, after several months, I'm angry that what should be a great opportunity to celebrate the first Americans, has turned into a kitschy farce of a tourist trap. I guess people are too busy arguing over Chief Illiniwek to pay attention to the real issues of history and culture. And until that day comes this Memorial will remain incomplete.
So Ward Churchill, Stephen Kaufman, Charlene Teeters, William Cook and you holier-than-thou types out there pretending that your bastardization of the original Americans history and culture is the only side of the story, think again. There are many out there who seek the truth and you charlatans simply can't provide it. Keep the Chief and finish Crazy Horse as a tribute to great peoples not victims. Sleep Walking Bear is proud of his history and the land he calls home. The good, the bad and the ugly because that is what REAL people and REAL history are all about.
We went into the Visitors Center, Museum and Cultural Center where we watched a short film about the history of the monument, the sculptor, the Indians, and the plans for the entire site which included a University, a medical center, athletic complexes and other buildings dedicated to the orignal Americans culture and history. Like the monument itself..............none of this has been completed. The sculptor, Korczak Ziolkowski, his wife and eleven kids have worked and lived at the site since they began work in 1948. For nearly 60 years, and all there is to show for what was promised the Indians is a "face", a small museum, and a cultural center which was basically nothing more than a market.
Sad, sad, sad. Much like Indian history in North America since the outside world arrived in large numbers. I can understand the monument taking such a long time to build but there is no University, no medical center, none of the very impressive things promised to Chief Standing Bear and his fellow Lakota. It reminded me of a modern day version of the roadside teepees you used to see travelling west on the highway many years ago. Where tourists could buy trinkets and novelties from people who were maybe original Americans or maybe not. Those disappeared as victims of political correctness long ago, along with probably several thousand Indians legitimate livelihood, only to be replaced by the modern day version of the roadside teepee which is this monument.
How depressing! What litte Indian history I know about, and no I don't count the mythological indoctrination taking place on today's college campuses as legitimate history, Crazy Horse was not a victim. And that is exactly what this whole "failed" memorial concept reminds me of, a continued victimization of a people and a culture who were the first Americans. I love history and I would love to know more about the people of North America prior to the arrival of others. Pathetically, like so many other things today their history is politicized to the point that not only were the numbers of Indians physically decimated but now these liberal "do-gooders" are turning their history and culture into something akin to trolls, gnomes, and other creatures of folklore. This culture faces complete elimination now by those who purport to support it! This memorial screams out that it is more about, once again, the white man than about the Indian. And it is a crying shame.
I am a Native American and these people are the original Native Americans and I want to learn about the history and culture of this land without trying to play the "my monument is bigger than your monument" childish game. Visiting there made me sad and disgusted. Now, after several months, I'm angry that what should be a great opportunity to celebrate the first Americans, has turned into a kitschy farce of a tourist trap. I guess people are too busy arguing over Chief Illiniwek to pay attention to the real issues of history and culture. And until that day comes this Memorial will remain incomplete.
So Ward Churchill, Stephen Kaufman, Charlene Teeters, William Cook and you holier-than-thou types out there pretending that your bastardization of the original Americans history and culture is the only side of the story, think again. There are many out there who seek the truth and you charlatans simply can't provide it. Keep the Chief and finish Crazy Horse as a tribute to great peoples not victims. Sleep Walking Bear is proud of his history and the land he calls home. The good, the bad and the ugly because that is what REAL people and REAL history are all about.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
KATHLEEN BLANCO WAKES UP TO DISCOVER "HEY, I'M THE GOVERNOR"
Kathleen "Blah, Blah" Blanco held a press conference today to announce that she had suddenly come to the realization that, she was indeed Governor of the state of Louisiana. "What a shock," she exclaimed, "when I realized I was the one in charge here." "I mean, I vaguely recall winning this election and moving to Baton Rouge but I guess I thought, it was like, winning a Publishers Clearinghouse contest or something." "I thought all I had to was live in this nice big mansion, hold press conferences, and shake taxpayers down for some money. I never realized I was expected to actually DO anything like mobilize the National Guard or coordinate relief efforts. Geesh, you think someone would have mentioned that to me before I got this far, right?"
In an interview with CNN the day prior, the Governor, forgetting her microphone was on and she was being filmed indicated to her press secretary that indeed she should have made it clear that she should have asked for federal troops sooner. She then went on to admit, when pressed on the issue, "...I really don't know what day it is at this point." "All I know is that it is George Bush's fault. He's the one running this show you know." At this point, the press secretary reminded the Governor again that she was the leader of the people of Louisiana. "Oh, damn, I keep forgetting. What was the name of that hurricane again? If I had known this job was going to be this complicated, I sure as heck would have thought twice about that whole election thingy."
Upon hearing this, Senator Mary "Fists of Iron" Landrieu stepped in and punched the Governor, knocking her out cold. "You want a piece of me, you want a piece of me," shrieked the Senator, "now where in the hell is the National Guard and that chopper. Momma needs to check out her beach house."
Thus ends another day in Louisiana politics were someone once remarked...."half this state is underwater and the other half is under indictment"
In an interview with CNN the day prior, the Governor, forgetting her microphone was on and she was being filmed indicated to her press secretary that indeed she should have made it clear that she should have asked for federal troops sooner. She then went on to admit, when pressed on the issue, "...I really don't know what day it is at this point." "All I know is that it is George Bush's fault. He's the one running this show you know." At this point, the press secretary reminded the Governor again that she was the leader of the people of Louisiana. "Oh, damn, I keep forgetting. What was the name of that hurricane again? If I had known this job was going to be this complicated, I sure as heck would have thought twice about that whole election thingy."
Upon hearing this, Senator Mary "Fists of Iron" Landrieu stepped in and punched the Governor, knocking her out cold. "You want a piece of me, you want a piece of me," shrieked the Senator, "now where in the hell is the National Guard and that chopper. Momma needs to check out her beach house."
Thus ends another day in Louisiana politics were someone once remarked...."half this state is underwater and the other half is under indictment"
Monday, September 05, 2005
AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL
We traveled from Ogalala past Lake Matthew McConaughey and the naked bongo drumming festival(just kidding) on our way to Mt Rushmore in South Dakota. What a beautiful country we live in! In South Dakota, we went through Custer State Park and the Winds State Park where the buffalo quite literally did roam. Along with about 2 1/2 million prairie dogs. Antelope were another animal we saw on the hillsides. We saw no big horn sheep however, they must have been aware of the presence of Sleep Walking Bear. Maybe they were in Vegas, who knows?
Now, the plan was to drive through to the hotel, get checked in, go to the park, eat and see the four Presidents at night. We had directions and ignored the sign in Custer that said Mt Rushmore turn here. We had the directions to take the shortest route and, indeed, it was probably shorter. Little did we know that we were going to be taking Iron Mountain Road. There was nothing wrong with the condition of the road, thank God!, but the road would curve, rise or corkscrew about every 20 feet. Up, down, around, through, over, under. It was beautiful and annoying at the same time. The neatest thing was that there were several tunnels and when you came upon them Mt Rushmore was perfectly framed in the archway. Thankfully, there was not much traffic and we could enjoy our curvy-schmurvy travel. Except for Pibby who hated every minute of the ride once we got on this particular road. A prairie girl she will always be!
We finally got to our lodging and it was very nice. We stayed in Keystone, right next to the park. A very commercialized area but well kept up and clean. All the billboards referenced the "light" in their directions to whatever destination and, indeed, there was only one stoplight.
We got to the park and it only cost $8 per vehicle and that was good for an entire year. Once again, the cheaper the attraction, the more worthwhile! It was quite a cool night as jackets or sweatshirts were in order. But, well, words can't describe when you first start to walk up the avenue of flags and see Mt Rushmore up close. WOW! Even the most cynical person would have to be moved by the sight. It was breathtaking! It made you want to immediately start belting out GOD BLESS AMERICA, LAND THAT I LOVE a la Kate Smith.
After a nice meal and a chivalrous act on the part of Sleep Walking Bear(I found the woman who had got up with her family....she remembered the kids but forgot her purse) we were ready to go get our seats for the "lighting" ceremony. Now, when it is already chilly the most surefire way to become even colder is to sit on a concrete slab, which is of course what we did. Ranger Rick from the US Park Service came out in the twilight and began to speak. Well, ramble, would perhaps be the more accurate term. On and on and on. Sleep Walking Bear was ready to get out his bow and arrow to get the program movin' along if you know what I mean. Ranger Rick finally ran out of steam and a video played about American History and the Presidents represented on the mountain, the history of the monument and park itself, along with a nod to the Indians. We were asked to stand and sing the National Anthem at the end. Now, they did not tell anyone that America The Beautiful is NOT our national anthem, so when that played the assembled masses began to rise. I think everyone was just looking for an excuse to stand up so they could regain feeling in their butts from sitting on the cold, hard concrete. Then the lights came on. Very impressive however our little tribe came to the consensus that we could have done a better presentation. We needed a little Kate Smith, that would unfreeze your butt cheeks!
We would return the next morning and I would highly recommend you see this fabulous national treasure both in the dark and the bright sunshine. Incredible! We raided the gift shop and then bid Adieu to Teddy, Tom, Abe and George. Definitely the highlight of our journey!
Now, the plan was to drive through to the hotel, get checked in, go to the park, eat and see the four Presidents at night. We had directions and ignored the sign in Custer that said Mt Rushmore turn here. We had the directions to take the shortest route and, indeed, it was probably shorter. Little did we know that we were going to be taking Iron Mountain Road. There was nothing wrong with the condition of the road, thank God!, but the road would curve, rise or corkscrew about every 20 feet. Up, down, around, through, over, under. It was beautiful and annoying at the same time. The neatest thing was that there were several tunnels and when you came upon them Mt Rushmore was perfectly framed in the archway. Thankfully, there was not much traffic and we could enjoy our curvy-schmurvy travel. Except for Pibby who hated every minute of the ride once we got on this particular road. A prairie girl she will always be!
We finally got to our lodging and it was very nice. We stayed in Keystone, right next to the park. A very commercialized area but well kept up and clean. All the billboards referenced the "light" in their directions to whatever destination and, indeed, there was only one stoplight.
We got to the park and it only cost $8 per vehicle and that was good for an entire year. Once again, the cheaper the attraction, the more worthwhile! It was quite a cool night as jackets or sweatshirts were in order. But, well, words can't describe when you first start to walk up the avenue of flags and see Mt Rushmore up close. WOW! Even the most cynical person would have to be moved by the sight. It was breathtaking! It made you want to immediately start belting out GOD BLESS AMERICA, LAND THAT I LOVE a la Kate Smith.
After a nice meal and a chivalrous act on the part of Sleep Walking Bear(I found the woman who had got up with her family....she remembered the kids but forgot her purse) we were ready to go get our seats for the "lighting" ceremony. Now, when it is already chilly the most surefire way to become even colder is to sit on a concrete slab, which is of course what we did. Ranger Rick from the US Park Service came out in the twilight and began to speak. Well, ramble, would perhaps be the more accurate term. On and on and on. Sleep Walking Bear was ready to get out his bow and arrow to get the program movin' along if you know what I mean. Ranger Rick finally ran out of steam and a video played about American History and the Presidents represented on the mountain, the history of the monument and park itself, along with a nod to the Indians. We were asked to stand and sing the National Anthem at the end. Now, they did not tell anyone that America The Beautiful is NOT our national anthem, so when that played the assembled masses began to rise. I think everyone was just looking for an excuse to stand up so they could regain feeling in their butts from sitting on the cold, hard concrete. Then the lights came on. Very impressive however our little tribe came to the consensus that we could have done a better presentation. We needed a little Kate Smith, that would unfreeze your butt cheeks!
We would return the next morning and I would highly recommend you see this fabulous national treasure both in the dark and the bright sunshine. Incredible! We raided the gift shop and then bid Adieu to Teddy, Tom, Abe and George. Definitely the highlight of our journey!
