THE YEAR OF OUR DISCONTENT

How hot and dry was Texas in 2011? Wildfires wiped out hundreds of homes and up to half a billion trees. Lakes dried up to reveal cars and bodies. Texans suffered through the hottest June, July and August on record in the United States, according to the National Weather Service. Our 86.8 average beat out Oklahoma’s 85.2 degrees in 1934.

This was also the year that gave us the near-destruction of the Big XII and Gov. Rick Perry’s presidential hopes. The Aggies continued to give us oddball events, and our pols proved Texas has the sleaziest. So let’s take a look at 2011, the Year of the Rat.

Right-wingnut radio talk show host Glenn Beck looked all over America for his new home and radio-TV studios. Where would such a conspiracy-screwball feel most at home, comfortably surrounded by similarly minded people? Dallas, of course.

Prose and Cons: Anthony Graves, who spent 18 years on Death Row for a crime a special prosecutor ruled Graves didn’t commit, was due to receive $1.4 million compensation, but the Texas Comptroller’s office ruled Graves was ineligible because the words “actual innocence” did not appear in the document ordering his release. Other Texas Death Row inmates will no longer have a last meal after convicted murderer Lawrence Russell Brewer ordered up a vast feast including two chicken fried steaks, a cheese omelet and loads of extras – then didn’t eat them.

Texas state Sen. Judith Zaffirini was running for re-election in her district along the Mexican border, but had to change her logo. Border residents were alarmed to see lawn signs with a big jagged Z, a symbol for the Zetas, a murderous drug gang. Meanwhile, the Zetas were horrified that anyone might mistake them for members of the Texas Legislature.

Hullabaloo Disconnect, Disconnect: After a century of being in the same conference with UT and Baylor, Texas A&M split for the SEC. Then fired its coach. Aggie Quote of the Year: “Bring it on.” – Texas A&M Deputy Chancellor Jay Kimbrough, longtime Perry trouble shooter, to Aggie officials who had just fired him. At the time, Kimbrough was holding a pocketknife. Kimbrough later said it was just a joke.

Maroon Is Also a Verb Div: “I have to admit that the stupidity on this board (of regents) always brings me back to the point that I know I’m not the dumbest (expletive) out there.” – Texas A&M athletics chief financial officer and senior associate athletic director, Jeff Toole, written on a fan web site, anonymously, he thought. He also called A&M President R. Bowen Loftin a “putz.” and a “hopelessly underqualfied puppet.”

Goal Finger: Dallas Cowboy Roy Williams mailed a $76,000 engagement ring to former beauty pageant winner Brooke Daniels of Tomball and a recorded marriage proposal. She turned down Williams, a former UT football star, and kept the ring, he claimed. Williams went to court, but finally got the ring back. No word on the romance.

Big D for Disaster (A wardrobe malfunction seems minor): After years of planning and vast amounts of money spent, Super Bowl XLV at Cowboys Stadium also hosted heavy snow and ice which canceled flights. Traffic was a dangerous hockey game, and 850 fans were told their temporary seats were not useable because they were unsafe. The unhappy ticket-holders sued. Meantime, during that Dallas weekend, 59 people were arrested on prostitution related charges.

Worst Sports Fans: The boo-birds in Austin who heaped scorn on Longhorn quarterback Garret Gilbert after a couple of incompletions, and the fans were Longhorns! Wonder if they would do that to his face – that face which goes with his 6-foot-4-inch 219-pound body? No matter, Gilbert got hurt and transferred to SMU. We’re doing better at getting a return on our athletic investment: Of the top 100 Texas graduating high school football players this past spring, only 43 went out of state. Usually, we keep just a few of the blue chippers.

In politics, the year began with years – Tom DeLay got three of them in the clink.

From his re-election in November of 2010 until last Sept. 28, Gov. Rick Perry had gone through $762,680 in state funds for bodyguards (read: sherpas) on out-of-state trips. These taxpayer funds were used during a family vacation to the Bahamas and trips made by Anita Perry alone. Just why al-Queda would attack Mrs. Perry in Amsterdam or Madrid isn’t clear.

“Commerce, education and – what’s the third one there? Let’s see. I would do away with Commerce, Education, and let’s see. I can’t – the third one, I can’t. Sorry. Oops.” – Our not ready for prime time Texas governor in a GOP presidential debate.

U.S. Rep. Michael McCaul, R-Austin, married to the Clear Channel fortune, is the richest member of Congress, displacing Sen. John Kerry, married to the Heinz fortune. A Texas congressman on the House Financial Services Committee has filed for personal bankruptcy. Rep. Rubén Hinojosa, a Democrat, has $2.9 million in liabilities, and nearly $1.5 million in assets. Most of the debt, $2.6 million, is a claim by Wells Fargo Bank. Fortunately for the congressman, his House Financial Services Committee has jurisdiction over legislation affecting banks.

Gentlemen, Start Your Indignations: Five Republican lawmakers from the Houston area — Reps. Kevin Brady, John Culberson,  Michael McCaul, Pete Olson and Ted Poe — all voted to eliminate federal dollars earmarked for National Public Radio and Planned Parenthood. But they voted yes for the Defense Department’s multimillion-dollar sponsorship deal with NASCAR racing teams. Lost in Space: Houston didn’t get one of the retired space shuttles for the Johnson Space Center. Instead, NASA awarded them to such space bases Los Angeles and Seattle. Don’t Keep on Truckin’: A Sealy factory officially lost its $3 billion contract to build 23,000 trucks for the US Army.

We haven’t even started yet, so let’s get back together next week and honor the dishonorable before Texas Monthly steals our list for its Bum Steer Awards.

 

Ashby awards at ashby2@comcast.net

 

 

 

 

 

THE ONE PERCENT SOLUTION

            THE CLUB – Ah, there you are. We’ve been expecting you. Take a seat here by the fireplace with its burning Merrill Lynch bonds. Waiter, bring this new member a drink. Now, might I welcome you to the Club One, obviously made up of that select group, the top 1 percent of the richest Americans.

            You were approved for membership by making a billion on Bernie Madoff bobble-head dolls – the kind of heads you can rip off. I made my fortune selling picket signs and bullhorns to those Occupy Wall Street folks. My branch offices in Atlanta, Denver, Houston, Oakland — they all did well, especially Oakland, where fire bombs and gas masks were selling like crack pipes. Unfortunately, my efforts to peddle deodorants and razors didn’t work. 

            Good, the waiter has brought your drink. Thank you, Newt. No doubt you’ve heard about the recession. But not here. The non-partisan Congressional Budget Office says we top 1 percent of earners more than doubled our share of the nation’s income over the last three decades. Actually, the after-tax income of the top 20 percent now exceeds the income of the bottom 80 percent of Americans, which seems only proper. Incidentally, our “after tax income” is about the same as our “before tax income,” if you get my drift.

Our members are the usual suspects: movie stars, top athletes, drug lords. They made it on their own. Then there are the Wall Street money handlers who don’t actually contribute anything to society, like making shoe-strings or growing corn, but they make a fortune. Oh, there’s Eugene Isenberg, outgoing CEO of Houston’s Nabors Industries. He just received a $100 million golden parachute. This was on top of his $176 million in compensation between 2006 and 2010 during which the company’s stock fell 38 percent. It’s dropped another 20 percent this year. Don’t you just love it?

            Even though we own most members of Congress, many already qualify for our club. There are currently 245 millionaires — 66 in the Senate and 179 in the House. The richest of all is a Texan: Rep. Michael McCaul, Republican of Austin, worth over $294 million. He married it. Most candidates for president, including Obama, are in the top 1 percent. We don’t have exact figures, but experts say Michele Bachmann and Ron Paul probably don’t make the cut. Rick Perry’s net worth is estimated at just over $1 million, which is not bad for someone who has been a Texas state employee most of his adult life.

Yes, Warren Buffet and Bill Gates qualify for our club, technically, but they were drummed out as heretics. You know their screed: keep the death tax, spread the wealth, philanthropy. Traitors to their class. How does one qualify for Club One? Your worthiness can be measured in two ways: wealth or income. By household wealth, the cutoff point was $9 million in 2010, according to the Federal Reserve. The cutoff for annual household income is about $700,000. However, the Congressional Budget Office put the 1 percent earnings cutoff at $350,000 in 2007.  

            The bottom 99 percent deserve to be at the bottom. As Herman Cain said, “I don’t have facts to back this up, but I happen to believe that these demonstrations are planned and orchestrated, to distract from the failed policies of the Obama administration. Don’t blame Wall Street, don’t blame the big banks — if you don’t have a job and you are not rich, blame yourself!” He’s absolutely right, although I don’t have the facts to back it up.

I see through the window the great unwashed are stoning our club. Looks like an Athens come-as- you-are party. We here at the club believe in the Trickle Down Theory, or as the 99 percent call it, the Trickle On Theory. So? What’s their point? We believe in the redistribution of wealth – upwards, because we are job creators, although lately we haven’t been creating many jobs. So the gap between America’s rich and poor is widening. In the 30-nation Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, only Turkey and Mexico have more economically unequal societies than the United States.

            Look at that mob. If it’s class warfare, then we’ve got the class, and we’ll give them the warfare. We should call out the Army, speaking of which, apparently not a single son or daughter of Club One members is serving in Iraq or Afghanistan. However, two generals of my acquaintance feel they are doing their part for the war effort – Generals Dynamics and Electric.  

If you paid one dollar in federal income tax from 2008 till last year, you paid more than General Electric, DuPont, Verizon, Boeing, Wells Fargo and Honeywell. A new report from Citizens for Tax Justice – a commie front obviously — looked at 280 of the Fortune 500 companies and found, while the federal corporate tax code ostensibly requires big corporations to pay at a 35 percent corporate income tax rate, on average the 280 corporations paid only about half that amount. Or as Leona Helmsley told her housekeeper, “We don’t pay taxes. Only the little people pay taxes.” Helmsley later went to prison for federal tax evasion.

This 35 percent corporate tax rate is often cited as being second only to Japan’s rate, and should be lowered. As we can see, it already has been. This is like the oft-heard canard: “Half of Americans don’t pay income taxes.” Keep saying it long enough and people will believe it. Actually, the figure is not 50 percent but 43 percent, and they pay lots of taxes directly or indirectly: fees and fines, property taxes, school taxes, sales taxes, taxes on gasoline, pitchforks and torches. Individual income taxes only contribute 45 percent to the fed’s budget. Everybody pays the remaining 55 percent. Just remember, Texas doesn’t have an income tax, but Austin still wrings billions out of us.

Here’s to bailouts and TARP. Cheers. We’ll have another round, Mitt. 

 

                        Ashby is taxed at ashby2@comcast.net

Credit Card Fraud

By Lynn Ashby                                                                        19 Dec. 2011

YA GOTTA GIVE ‘EM CREDIT

 

THE PHONE – “You say you were in Texas last Thursday. But our records show you were also in Illinois. How can you be in two places at the same time, putting charges from the XXX Adult Movie Store in Waco and the Sports Stop in Moline?” the credit card lady asks over the phone.

“I was in the Sports Stop in Waco,” I whine. “Why would anyone want to go to  Illinois?” What has obviously happened is that someone is ringing up charges on my credit account. Again? You may recall a year or so ago someone was going around East Texas running up huge bills in my name and driver’s license number. I figure they got that last info from a casino in Louisiana. Those poker parlors are about the only places that ask for driver’s license numbers.

Then last December someone picked my wallet at a Houston Texans game – the only offensive play the Texans had that day. Now it seems my credit card number is being pushed across counters in the Midwest. Not the card itself, just its numbers. I’ll bet the alleged perpetrator stole the numbers from one of those catalogue companies we use every holiday shopping season (January-December). We charge from Land’s End to the Waikiki Surf & Shark Shop. Somewhere along the way our card number must have stopped in Illinois.

So once more I am forced to change credit card numbers. Not the company, not the password nor address nor anything but just the numbers. The credit account I use, House O’ Cards, is quite efficient. But, like you, I have several companies that automatically put their charges on my card: electric bill, phone bill, ransoms and kickbacks. That requires that I call each one of them and give them my new number. Good luck with that.

“If you want to speak in English, press one. For Spanish, dos, for hrvatski jezik go back to Zagreb. All our agents are busy right now (we have two and one’s home sick), but you can use our options. If you want to pay your electric bill, press 1, if you don’t want to pay your bill, press 2 for a disconnect and 3 for Vito the Enforcer to visit you some night. Press 4 for all other options but there aren’t any.” We can’t speak to people at businesses over the phone anymore. However, when calling the cell phone company, after three hours of pressing various numbers, getting more recordings and being put on hold, I finally got a live person

“Thank you for calling Cellular Dwellers. My name is Howard. Actually, it’s not, but we’re supposed to say that. You told a recording that you wanted to change your credit card number. Why? Maxed out the old one? I see you’re using House O’ Cards. Boy, your credit must be just this side of Italy’s. I’ll need your password, which for us is always Kickapoo. It’s easier to remember if we just have one.”

After an agonizing and unproductive conversation with Howard, who had the IQ of a shovel, I was transferred to his supervisor, who could match wits with a hoe. It was as though no one in the company’s history had ever changed credit card numbers. “I don’t think anybody has ever changed their credit card number,” the supervisor said.

In 2006, the U.S. Census Bureau determined that there were nearly 1.5 billion credit cards in use in the U.S. A stack of all those credit cards would reach more than 70 miles into space – and be almost as tall as 13 Mount Everests. How many credit cards do you have? If you are the average cardholder, you have three. The average household has five. Like you, I have cut down on the number, mainly because I don’t need a different card for every gas station. No one can agree on how much the average cardholder owes.

Here’s a sign of the times. Some 29 percent of respondents in a recent survey reported they do not have a credit card. That was a more than 10 percent increase from June 2009. Obviously in this economy a lot of us got rid of our cards. It reminds me of the guy who performed plastic surgery on his wife. He shredded her credit cards. Another reflection of our recession is that credit card use has sunk nearly 19 percent since September 2008, the height of the financial crisis.

College students have long been targets for credit card pushers. Some 84 percent of undergraduates have credit cards, and the average undergrad has $2,200 in credit card debt. Additionally, they will amass almost $20,000 in student debt, mostly tuition. Of the students with cards, about 65 percent pay their bills in full every month, which is higher than the general adult population. Half of college undergraduates had four or more credit cards in 2008.

It got so bad that in 2010 Congress passed a law banning credit card companies from issuing cards to people under the age of 18. If you’re under 21 years old, you need an adult cosigner to get a card, unless you can prove that you have the financial means to pay your bill. Good luck on that point. Incidentally, we’ve been discussing credit cards, but 80 percent of consumers currently own a debit card, compared to 78 percent who own a credit card and 17 who own a prepaid card.

My final call is to the power company before they cut off my electricity.  “Thank you for calling the Lite Light Company. You pressed 76, which is ‘Other.” All our agents are busy with other — other customers’ complaints, but if you’ll just wait for.…”

Finally I get a real person. “Hi, caller. I yam Peggy Sue. How help can I?”

My explanation, plus slow repetitions, lasts 45 minutes. The next day they cut off my electricity.

 

Ashby is carded at ashby2@comcast.net

 

 

Scams are Back

Here is an interesting e-mail. “Dear Wells Fargo Customer, You have been identified as a key person to be a participant in our company’s 360 degree feedback survey process.” The message goes on to say how important I am, and if I’ll simply fill out the form, stick in my account number, password and DNA, then W F will send me $50. This same sender will also drain all my accounts, open up my safety deposit box and steal my birthright.

And another: “I am Martin Moussa Ahmed citizen of Libya, and son to Late General Abdul Moussa Ahmed, a very close friend to Colonel Muammar Gaddafi. Few days before my dad (sic) death he told me that he had deposited the sum of 11.7 Million USD in a consignment box with a security company.” My new best friend Ahmed will give me 25 percent of his fortune if only I will deposit a small amount of cash just to show my good intentions.

Are you suddenly getting a lot of these scams? A few years ago Nigerian princes were sweeping through the on-line world promising a fortune if only we would help them retrieve their billion dollars from a London bank. We can only wonder how many poor, gullible folks bought into the scheme. But now the con artists are back. “Due to the congestion in all Comcast mail users accounts, the Comcast mail team would be shutting down all unused accounts.” In order to re-open my account, I need to send “Comcast” my name, account number, password and shoe size. Wouldn’t you think my carrier would already know all of this?

The Comcast and Well Fargo scams are a step forward in that I do, indeed, use those companies. In the past I have received requests for information from companies I didn’t use. “We here at the Left Bank of the Bayou need to protect your etc…” Never used that bank. Can you stand another example? This one really pushes the e-mail envelope: “Dear Valued Customer, When we detect irregular activity on your Citizens Online Banking account to help us prevent crime, we need to confirm your identity. This means proving who you are and where you live. As part of our security checks we’ll usually ask you for some personal details.” Right, ask me for some personal details.

In addition to these messages, are you getting phone call versions of the same game? The phone rings. It’s a recording: “Hi, this is Rachel from Credit Card Services. We have been trying to reach you. This is our final call. In order to continue using your credit card (they never identify the card service by name), you must re-apply by answering these few questions.” A dead giveaway is the background noise. Scores if not hundreds of Rachels are making the identical call.

Now, we must ponder a few points. First, they – whomever they are – are continuing to run these rackets because they work. I mean, if the pirates of the PCs batted zero, after a few thousand unproductive calls they would turn to some other rip-off, like running for president or selling beer at NFL games for $15 a cup. So the bunko artists must be pulling in some idiots.

Two, exactly who are these idiots who would buy into such transparent phony offerings? I’d love to observe e-mails and phone calls that reply, and see just who is so easily misled. Probably the same people who buy books written by Sarah and Newt. I’d also love to read the complaints filed at the local cop shop from people who kept waiting for their $1 million check from the First Bank of Lagos. “Officer, all they asked for was my Social Security number and combination to my lock box. They said they were from the CIA and it was my patriotic duty.”

Over the years I have been hit up by phone calls from the Texas Deputy Dawg Backers Society (“We do good things for old deputies”) and e-mails from assorted heirs who only need my help to secure their fortune. A twist on this is the London solicitor who represents the late Crown Prince Akmed of Egypt and writes that I have been selected to help etc. etc.

One of my favorites is the Cases of the Errant E-Mail. Out of nowhere I get this one: “Bunny Lou, as you know, I’ve been dating this guy who’s a veep of  MegaMite, and he told me they’ve just landed a $3 BILLION contract with Homeland Security and the stock is going to go through the roof. Keep this to yourself, but buy MegaMite now! See you at the big party for Alfred. Love, Nanci-May.” By shear luck, I have stumbled into a Wall Street insider’s bonanza and shall make a fortune at the expense of the other suckers.

All of these easy-money rackets are based on a single characteristic of gullible victims: They think THEY are the sly fellows, the insiders, and are pulling a quick one on the bank or government or big corporation. Mix this with a heavy dose of greed and reel in the poor jerk.

Wait, a new version: “Hi, I need your help. I made a stealth trip for a short vacation in London, UK. Unfortunately for me, I got mugged at GUN POINT in the park of the hotel where I stayed, all cash, credit card and cell were stolen off me but luckily for me I still have my passports with me.” The urgent e-mail says the writer’s flight leaves in a few hours, “but am having problems settling the hotel bills. The hotel manager won’t let me leave until I settle the bills. I really need your urgent assistance. Charles.” Everyone knows someone name Charles. Wonder how he made out?

There’s a sucker born every minute, which is why I was very careful to only buy 1,000 shares of MegaMite before it went bankrupt.

Ashby is scammed at ashby2@comcast.net

WHISTLING DIXIE

THE MUSEUM – “This is a map showing the North and the South in 1861,” I say, pointing to a large map on the wall.

“Where’s Disneyworld?” I can see it is going to be a most interesting visit to this museum which is currently featuring a large and well-done display of artifacts, maps, guns, photos and everything else having to do with the Late Unpleasantness. I am the Natty Bumppo to my three grandsons, and shall show my unworthy and unappreciative descendants my deep knowledge of American history. “Here is….”

“Abraham Lincoln,” interrupts one of my flock. “When he was assassinated, his wallet contained a Confederate five-dollar bill. The Grassy Knoll Society says this proves Lincoln was a Southern spy.”

So much for my Lincoln speech. We come to a photo of Robert E. Lee. “In 1859, Lee was visiting his family in Virginia when John Brown, that’s him there, seized an armory at Harper’s Ferry and tried to free the slaves. Lee was ordered to arrest Brown, so Lee led a group of US Marines up to Harper’s Ferry and took him.”

“If the US Army was trying to free the slaves and John Brown was trying to free the slaves, why did they arrest him?”

“Let me get back to you on that. Anyway, Lee spent more time in Texas than in the Confederate Army. His last US Army command was at Fort Mason northwest of Austin. He had an astute observation: “We made a great mistake in the beginning of our struggle, and I fear, in spite of all we can do, it will prove to be a fatal mistake. We appointed all our worst generals to command our armies, and all our best generals to edit the newspapers.”

“Gramps, you’d make a terrible general. Grandma says you weren’t even a very good lance corporal.”

“Shut up,” I explained. “Now, keep an eye out for a picture of your ancestors, General Turner Ashby and his younger brother, Captain Dick. Known as the Brothers Ashby, they were cavalry officers in the Army of Northern Virginia. No, they were not responsible for Ashby’s Rout and Ashby’s Humiliation. That was another ancestor, Major AWOL Ashby.”

“Did you know him well?”

“I’m not that old. Moving on, here is a display of the POW camps of both sides. Everyone knows about Andersonville, but what about Camp Douglas? It was a Union camp for Confederate POWs on the edge of Chicago. A trolley line was built out to the camp and bleachers set up so Chicagoans could go out and watch the Confederate soldiers in rags behind barbed wire stumbling around in the mud. A class act.”

“Never heard of it.”

“History is written, or not written, by the victors. Next we have this banner which is commonly called the Confederate flag, but actually it is the Confederate Battle flag. You see it displayed by the Ku Klux Klan which is why it is no longer displayed anywhere else, especially on Texas license plates. What’s that? Yes, you can change history. Indeed, a lot of our history is changing. There used to be sports teams, like UT-Arlington, named the Rebels. No more. When was the last time you heard a band play ‘Dixie’? Wonder what would happen today if someone tried to name an army base Fort Hood, Fort Lee or Fort Polk? As Grant told Lee at Appomattox, fugetaboutit.”

“Did the Union Army ever come to Texas, like in a battle?”

“Yes, they attempted to invade from the east, at the Sabine Pass. But a Houston saloon keeper named Dickey Dowling and a bunch of his Irish buddies beat them back in the most lop-sided battle of the entire war. Just think of the outcome if they had been sober. And Yankees took over Galveston for a couple of years, but got tired of the crowds at spring break, and surrendered.”

We come upon a glass case holding medical instruments, and photos of soldiers on both sides missing arms and legs. One lad asks: “Is that where the term ‘disarm’ came from? But nobody says ‘disleg.’ And why did they call the North the ‘Union’ when they never went out on strike?

“You ask too many questions.”

“Why was it called the Civil War?”

“Not everyone did. Your great-great-grandmother called it the War of Southern Independence or the War of Northern Aggression. Of course, she also thought damnyankee was one word. This is a picture of Sam Houston. He wanted Texas, which had only been a state for 15 years and still had the same leaders, to go back to being an independent country and sit out the conflict. Sort of like: ‘You two go ahead and war. We’ll just watch from over here.’ Texas joined the Confederacy, but its draft laws exempted any male who owned 15 or more slaves. Talk about a rich man’s war.”

“What about slavery? It was legal in New York until 1827. Kentucky didn’t ratify the Thirteenth Amendment ending slavery until 1976.”

“Next question. Actually, slavery was all a matter of economics. If they could have raised cotton in Boston, we’d never had the war. By the end of the conflict in 1865 the South was more devastated than either Germany or Japan after World War Two. Reconstruction, an ill-fitting word in this case, gave us the expression, ‘Yankee go home.’ It didn’t work. They’re still here, and more are coming every day.”

“What happened to the Brothers Ashby?”

“They were both killed by Yankees.”

“And AWOL Ashby?”

“He, too, was shot….by his own troops.”

 

Ashby rebels at ashby2@comcast.net

RAISE THE GANGPLANK

THE INTERSTATE – Just look at this line of cars. Bumper to bumper. Surfboards tied to the roofs, marijuana plants sticking out of the trunk. Californians, here they come. There is a surge of Left Coast (pardon the cliché) folks moving to Texas, more than from any other state. The Census Bureau reports that more than 363,000 Californians moved to Texas over the past five years. Just in 2010, almost 70,000 of them arrived here. It is not clear how many Texans moved to the Golden State; mostly high school football players like Heisman candidate Andrew Luck (Houston to Stanford).

So you have trouble getting a parking place? Long lines to see your parole officer? I’ll bet you have to wait hours at the ER. That’s because not only Californians are arriving, but so are immigrants from every other state along with the rest of the world. As of the 2010 Census, there were 25,145,561 people living in our state, up 4.3 million since the last Census in 2000. That is a 21 percent increase (I’m rounding off these figures) in 10 years which is more than twice the national population increase of 9.7 percent. For total population growth, it is as though between 2000 and 2010 every man, woman and child in both Los Angeles and San Francisco moved here, and sometimes I think they have.

This is counting not only the immigrants but new-borns, because Texans love to reproduce. Our birthrate is significantly higher than the national rate: 13 per 1,000 people for the nation compared to 15.4 per 1,000 for Texas. Our state’s Hispanic births accounted for nearly half (49 percent) of the state’s 386,096 births last year. Today Hispanics make up 38 percent of the state’s population. The Texas State Data Center projects that by 2040 Hispanics will account for over 50 percent of all Texans, while one-third of the population will be Anglo. Blacks are expected to make up 9 percent of Texas’ population in 2040, and other races (not Anglo, black or Hispanic) are expected to grow to almost 6 percent. Oh, and Texans are younger than the rest of the nation — our average age is below the national average.

This army of newcomers from out of state shows up in different ways. For example, at pro sporting events you’ll see as many fans rooting for the Dodgers or the Bears or the Knicks as you will find cheering for the Texas team. The Dodgers ARE the home team. Ever notice all the LSU and OU bumper stickers and front-yard flags reading Ole Miss, USC and Cornell? Then there are those parents from Ohio or Michigan who don’t want their children saying “Ma’m” and “Sir” to their elders. It’s a Texas thing (or thang), but others feel using such titles is demeaning. And many of these Pilgrims just off the Conestoga can’t understand why their children have to study Texas history in school. “We didn’t have to study New Jersey’s history.” The comebacks for such a statement are too numerous to list, but do you get the idea the Border Patrol is watching the wrong river?

Incidentally, we have not yet mentioned the rest of the world which is trekking to the Not-So-Lonely Star State. An example: among Houston ISD students 84 different languages are spoekn. Almost one out of every four Houstonians is foreign born. No wonder the Bayou City has 87 foreign consulates. Where are these newcomers ssetting up shop? Mostly to the Houston area, the Metroplex and the I-35 corridor (Georgetown-Austin-San Antonio).  No one moves to Pampa. Would. You?

It would be tempting to say, “I’m on board, so raise the gangplank.” But all studies show the vast migration here is going to continue. This, obviously, begs the question to our Yankee put-down artists and eastern media elite: If we’re so bad, why does everyone else want to join us? They’re voting with their feet.

So our new immigrants and new babies are here and will stay here. This means we need more schools, more roads and bridges, more of everything, and more taxes to pay for them. It means our air will only get dirtier, so will our water, which we’re already lacking. And it means our Texas state anti-pollution agencies will have to come up with even more excuses as to why they’re in the pocket of the gods of smog. The good news is that we’re getting four more members of Congress. The bad news is that we’re getting four more members of Congress. The ones we have now are quite embarrassing enough without adding to their number.

GTT of course, is not new. Four Irishmen signed the Texas Declaration of Independence (we had our own), and 100 were listed in the rolls of San Jacinto, comprising one-seventh of the total Texan force in that battle. Eleven Irishmen died at the battle of the Alamo and 14 were among those with James W. Fannin at the Goliad Massacre. Until after 1877, German-speaking Texans outnumbered both Hispanics and Anglos.

At the Alamo the defenders came from 20 states and six countries. There were only 11 native Texians in the mission, all of them Tejanos, while 22 of the defenders just appeared, and to this day no one knows where they were born. At San Jacinto, the Texas Army came from 24 states, 11 countries, and Texas. Again, the only native Texians were 30 Hispanics from San Antonio. (Remember, Anglos were the original illegal immigrants.)

A witness the morning before the battle described the Texas Army: “A scene singularly wild and picturesque presented itself to our view. Around 20 or 30 campfires stood as many groups of men: English, Irish, Scots, Mexicans, French, Germans, Italians, Poles, Yankees, all unwashed and unshaved, their long hair and beards and mustaches matted, their clothes in tatters and plastered with mud. A more savage-looking band could scarcely have been assembled.” Our Californians should feel right at home.

 

Ashby carpetbags at ashby2@compass.net

 

 

 

TOME OF THE UNKNOWN WRITER

Where was I? Oh, yes. Page 2. “Lord Smyth-Smyth will never harm you again, my dear,” young Lieutenant Geoffrey Holcomb-Tarleton, Sixth Duke of Anchovy, said, his muscular chest heaving with desire.

“Don’t say anything, just hold me,” replied Angelia-Mary Westminster-Dowling, her muscular chest heaving with….” This is terrible. So why am I reading it? Because I broke one of my chief rules in the writing biz: I agreed to read a friend’s manuscript which was accompanied by the dreaded command, “Tell me what you really think.” What I really think? As Yogi Berra said, I think I made the wrong mistake, and there is no way out of this predicament. Remember, don’t play cards with a guy named Slim, don’t eat at a diner called Mom’s and don’t agree to read and thereby judge a friend’s writing.

If I tell him the truth, that his efforts are dreadful, I’ll lose a friend for life. If I am an enabler and say it’s a work of art alongside Beowulf, Hamlet and the ingredients list on a Triscuit box, then this poor soul is confident his masterpiece will wind up on the best-seller list. Then he says goodbye to his old job at the pig fat rendering plant and hello to a villa near Nice with days spent writing the next mega-bux winner and nights at the cafe with Grisham, le Carre and Rowling.

My own first brush with book-fate was when a friend was having an operation, and his nurse said she had written her autobiography, “32 Years of Bedpans” or something like that. My friend said he knew someone, me, who wrote – mostly ransom notes — and maybe I could take a look at the book and make a judgment. So I received this brown paper package containing a 400-page typed manuscript. It was dreadful and, silly me, I gently wrote back that particular sentiment. I received a scalding diatribe from the nurse, including, “There must be something wrong with you!”

Yes, there was something wrong with me: I had agreed to judge this person’s life work, her baby. Come to think of it, judging babies and books are much the same. Don’t do it. There are some people who make their wretched living reading and judging books. They are called “editors” or “publishing house underlings” or “masochists.” Each day they come to work and see, piled up on their desk, the next contender for the Nobel Prize for Literature.

The entries come in the aforementioned brown paper packages or boxes or binders with coffee-stained pages that are typed or hand-written in blood. These days we must suppose most author wannabes send in CDs or by iPad or tom-tom. If the work shows promise, the editor can contact the author and nurse him or her along in hopes of giving birth to a baby worth the advance fee. But most are awful and are rejected. Bennett Cerf, editor of Random House publishers, once returned a manuscript to the author with a note saying that Cerf didn’t think the tome would sell.

The author wrote back that he knew Cerf hadn’t read the entire book because the writer had glued two pages together towards the back of the book and, upon its return, the pages were still stuck together.

Cerf replied, “I don’t have to eat the whole egg to know it’s rotten.”

Besides authors in waiting, there are also professional scribes who can make a good living as anonymous ghost writers, giving all honor and credit – but not all the money — to the semi-literate NBA player who makes $4 million a free throw but couldn’t spell cat if you spotted him the c and a. And we have the “as told to” or “with” followed by the name of a nobody, which means the famous person whose name and face are on the cover didn’t write a word but sat down in front of a tape recorder and mumbled his life story so an out-of-work English major (is that redundant?) could whip the memoir into shape, leaving out all the profanity, the ya’know’s and drug dealers by name.

If you are working on the great American novel or just spilling the beans on your company’s criminal behavior, there is good news. First, go into any Barnes & Noble and witness aisles of books. Every one of them was written by someone whose work was probably rejected several times. And, two: remember how many authors got insulted, ridiculed and run out of the office before hitting the best-sellers’ list.

One publisher rejected George Orwell’s submission, “Animal Farm” with: “It is impossible to sell animal stories in the USA.” After John le Carré submitted his first novel, “The Spy Who Came in From the Cold,” one publisher sent it to a colleague, with this message: “You’re welcome to le Carré – he hasn’t got any future.” J.K. Rowling, the second richest woman in Britain behind QE II, submitted “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s (later Sorcerer’s) Stone” to a dozen publishers, but was rejected by every one. Bloomsbury, a small London publisher, only took it on at the behest of the CEO’s eight-year old daughter, who begged her father to print the book. We might suppose that the daughter is now the third richest woman in Britain.

As we can see, rejections are a way of life for authors. It goes hand in hand with poverty. One of the editors of the San Francisco Examiner rejected a short story with the put-down: “I’m sorry Mr. Kipling, but you just don’t know how to use the English language.” Margaret Mitchell’s “Gone With the Wind” was rejected 38 times before finally finding a publisher. And a publisher sent this sent this rejection letter: “Good God, I can’t publish this!” It went to William Faulkner.

Back to the book. “I’m sorry, Miss Westminster-Dowling, but I can’t publish this junk.”

“Don’t say anything. Just hold me.”
Ashby is rejected at ashby2@comcast.net

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TANKS FOR THE MEMORIES

Regardless of our political feelings, our loony right- or left-wing tendencies, all Texans must pull for Gov. Rick Perry to win the presidency. Why? Money, of course. Is there any other reason? You see, if Perry takes over the Oval Office we will make big bux because of the Defense budget. It alone accounts for nearly half of discretionary spending, and we need to get our share before the vault door slams shut.
Right now there is a lot of loot in the vault. Annual US military spending has doubled since the 9/11 attacks, from $316 billion to $688 billion, with 1.4 million men and women currently in uniform. Even excluding the costs of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars, the base budget has increased 78 percent in 10 years.
Our baby continues to grow. Last year the world spent $20.6 billion more than the year before on the military. Of that $20.6 billion worldwide increase, how much was America’s share? Almost all of it: $19.6 billion. Who says we aren’t big spenders? Depending upon who’s counting, the US now accounts for between 43 and 49 percent of the entire world’s military spending. That’s more than the next 22 countries combined. Example: We have 11 aircraft carriers, 20 if you count the Marines’ helicopter carriers. The rest of the world has a total of 10, which are one-fifth the size of ours. We’ve still got 268 installations in Germany and another 124 in Japan.
To be fair (and balanced), Texas already gets more than its quota in defense funds. Federal spending in Texas more than doubled over the last decade to more than $200 billion a year. Over the past three years the Army has relocated about 14,000 troops to Fort Bliss, outside El Paso, and plans to permanently relocate an additional 6,000 troops there in the few years. The base proclaims: “Fort Hood is the largest single site employer in Texas, directly inserting nearly $3 billion annually into the Texas economy.” When Johnny comes marching home again from Iraq and Afghanistan, we’ve got to make sure Johnny comes to Texas.
We’ve got 17 military installations here, including three in San Antonio, which has reaped roughly $3.3 billion just on military construction from 2006 to 2011. Operating those installations annually pumps hundreds of millions more into the Alamo City’s economy. Defense-related activity accounts for 4.9 percent for San Antonio, but even more, about 5.3 percent, for Fort Worth. Cow Town makes lots of warplanes.
All told, Texas is home to almost 246,000 active duty personnel, reservists, National Guard personnel, and Department of Defense (DoD) civilian workers. Texas hosts more active duty military personnel than any other state — one out of every 10 US soldier is based at Fort Hood — and ranks third in DoD civilian employment. In addition, we have tens of thousands of workers in defense related businesses. In 2010, more than $30.8 billion in defense contract spending was awarded to 13,056 contractors within Texas.
Feeding off the military is an old Texas tradition. Prior to the Civil War, 15 to 30 percent of the entire U.S. Army was stationed in frontier forts in Texas. The US Army logistical routes across Texas were longer than Napoleon’s supply line from Poland to Moscow in the 1812 campaign. Texas was the army’s largest — and most costly — engagement, absorbing up to 30 percent of the annual total operating budget. In the 55 years from Texas’ annexation in 1845 until the turn of the 20th century, the $70 million expenditure of the Army’s Quartermaster and Paymaster was double – DOUBLE — the total value of real and personal property in 19th century Texas.
“The whole state of Texas counts on the expenditure of money for Army supplies, and when a Congressman tackles the appropriations bill he joins issue with the whole state from Dan to Beersheba.” — Dr. Samuel Smith, U.S. Army, Camp Charlotte, Texas, July 4, 1879. This only makes sense. Texas had the nation’s longest war with the Indians – longer than any other state, 50 years.
But we may be in for a tumble. Among the many cost-cutting proposals before Congress is a reduction of the Pentagon’s budget. Our new Defense Secretary, Leon Panetta, has been told to cut $450 billion in defense spending over 10 years. If a new Congressional debt committee cannot forge a deficit-reduction agreement by Thanksgiving, Panetta faces what he calls a “doomsday mechanism” mandating an additional $500 billion in cuts.
We’ve got to make sure other, less deserving, states get hit while we make a fortune in arms. How does Camp Dallas and Fort Houston sound? The Waco Naval Base has a ring. We had two Presidents Bush, why not two Bush Air Force Bases? There’s always talk of putting troops along our border with Mexico. I propose the Rio Grande Missile Range five miles wide from Brownsville to El Paso. Put the “Fort” back in “Fort Worth” and the “Camp” back in “El Campo.” If Honda can build pickups in San Antonio, Honda can build Humvees in Hondo. “Stewart Beach – watch out for Marine amphibious landings.” Let Secretary Panetta cut all the budget funds he wants – just not ours. It reminds us of the Texas rancher who said, “I’m not greedy. All I want is my own land…and that next to it.”
Look, it’s about time we got more camouflaged bucks, because this current administration hasn’t been doing us any favors, nor should we expect it to. Obama didn’t even win the Texas Democratic primary and got his clock cleaned here in the general election: McCain won by a landslide. Obama won the presidency without us, and sure doesn’t owe Texas any favors. As a result, Sealy lost the multi-billion dollar Army truck contract with 1,300 workers laid off and Houston couldn’t even land a lousy used spacecraft. Get over it, and do so by putting a Texan back in the White House.

Ashby enlists at ashby2@comcast.net

BEWARE OF GEEKS BEARING GIFTS

If I push this button, I get the weather forecast. For Oslo. In Greek. This button takes a photo of my face from the inside. Push this one and a bomb goes off in Kabul. I think this one causes a Swiss Army knife to pop out. In case you are wondering what I am attempting to do – I am operating this gift from my children. It’s an Ipad2, or maybe an iPadTwo or a LaunchingPad3-2-1.
I was never good in operating the newest black boxes, but it’s not my fault and I shall briefly explain why. It might make you feel better, too. First, some necessary background: It is a little known fact, and justifiable so, that the very first person in the world to buy a Windows 95 software program was a 19 year old business student in New Zealand by the name of Jonathan Prentice.
Others followed and at the end of that first day, Aug. 23, 1995, some $30 million worth of the Microsoft program had been sold. By the end of that year 20 million copies, at roughly $85 each, were purchased, enough to ensure Microsoft’s chief, Bill Gates, a reasonably secure future.
Even today the rush continues as PC, iPad, iPhone, iPod and semaphore geeks fight to be the first in their Boy Scout troop to own the latest toy. They line up in the freezing dark on sidewalks outside stores to purchase some box, made by 12-year-olds in China that has a catchy name and high price. And do they buy ‘em. Example: Apple has just announced it sold more than 4 million of its new iPhone 4S models in the first three days they were on sale. That’s the most ever sold for any phone and more than double the iPhone 4 launch during its first three days.
But now nerds in Palo Alto are working on the iPhone 5, because these gadgets have a short shelf life. I am always afraid that when I take my latest iGizmo out of the box, someone will say, “Oh, you have one of those old things. The Smithsonian was asking about it.”
Any new purchase of these technological Tinker Toys comes with books – plural — of instructions, diagrams and an 800 number to call when all else fails. All else always fails, so we call Singapore and get Ed Earl, he so claims, who can hardly speak English, and 45 minutes later we are in tears trying to make our latest $2,500 iJunk work.
When we buy a toaster, it arrives with a small pamphlet written by lawyers warning us not to stick a fork in the bread slot. My favorite is the hair dryer which carries the warning not to use it in the shower or bathtub. Here is an actual PC owner’s manual that begins with, “Your modem offers a range of internationally accepted standard modulation methods and protocols. It utilizes WinRPI software based V.42/MNP 2 4 error control and V.42 bis/MNP 5 data compression.” If a toaster’s manual read that way, you would return the toaster. What’s more, have you heard of toasters getting a virus?
I have a PC guru, Marty, on speed dial. He is at my house about once a month to fix the Computer From Dell. Do you have a garbage disposal guru on call? Does LeRoy, the alarm clock wizard, make regular visits to your house, manual and tool kit in hand?
Ah, but why, exactly, are our PCs, Windows, iThis and iThat so unreliable and moody? Because they are not the cutting edge of scientific technology, not the end-all, be-all of the 21st Century. There is something left to invent. You see, these latest instruments are actually very crude. They are just in their early stages, and our grandchildren will laugh uproariously at our ancient axes.
How crude? Let’s compare life spans. Remember that Jonathan Prentice bought the first Microsoft Widows 95 some 16 years ago. The U.S.’s first scheduled commercial airline flight was on Jan. 1, 1914. In Windows’ years, airlines today would be at the 1930 stage. Thirty years ago, on Aug. 12, 1981, IBM first introduced its microcomputer, and that is regarded as the opening of computer season. Henry Ford sold his first car in 1896. After 30 years, the same time span of improvements, would you send your family off to Disneyland in a 1926 Ford?
The first regular scheduled TV programming was begun by General Electric in Schenectady, N.Y., on May 11, 1928. Think of your PC as a black and white DuMont TV set with a six inch screen, and think of the latest Windows as rabbit ears. The original iPhone was introduced in the U.S. on June 29, 2007. That breakthrough is now brokethrough: We’re into the fifth generation of iPhones, so you can junk that four-year-old antique. Still got your original Walkman? It’s 32 years old, which is where Xerox was in 1938. Oct. 23 was the10th anniversary of the iPod. Our war in Afghanistan is 16 days longer.
It is foolish to assume these babies are born as adults, honed to perfection. Nor is your latest magical miracle user-friendly. Blackberries went down worldwide recently and the mother company offered $100 million in apps to mollify irate customers.
Even the computers and such in stores are toddlers in need of a change. How many times have you been told by a bank teller or shop clerk, “I’m sorry but our computers are down.”? They never say that about their vacuum cleaners. So don’t feel the world has passed you by because you can’t operate the MegaX Y-76 which cheats the IRS and fakes your death.
Here’s another example: If I tap on this icon, it either contacts my pest controller or flosses my teeth. I’m not sure which. When you get stumped, and can’t make your iThing text to the cloud via your 1080p HD video, do as I do: ask your children.

Ashby is obsolete in at ashby2@comcst.net

Inept Dems

By Lynn Ashby                                                            24 Oct. 2011

Will Rogers’ oft-quoted observation, “I am not a member of any organized party — I am a Democrat.” has never been truer. The Democrats (let’s shorten this to Dems) are the most inept American political party since the Know Nothings, both on the national and state level, and show no signs of improving. Thus it has been easy for the Republicans to move into the vacuum – especially in Texas.

Don’t believe me? Take Harry Reid, please. I would say he looks, talks and acts like a small town Baptist preacher rather than the majority leader of the U.S. Senate, except Baptist preachers know how to give a thundering sermon. Reid just mumbles, looks down at his shoelaces and mumbles some more. That’s leadership? And what didn’t happen to Nancy Pelosi? She led the 2010 disaster for House Dems and should have been replaced for her ineffectiveness. She’s still the leader, maybe because that’s the best the Dems can do. But they can’t hold a gavel to Rep. John Boehner and Sen. Mitch McConnell who are sharp, mean, know how to bluff and intimidate, and it works. (See: ceiling, debt)

The GOP controls one half of one-third of the federal government, but that 400 pound elephant runs Washington. Name one powerful Democrat besides President Obama. (Some would question that premise. He has been mugged by pros and still plays the nice guy.) Actually, I can name two powerful Dems: Bill and Hillary Clinton. They are also sharp and mean, but both are on the sidelines. Today the party of the donkey has no Jefferson, Jackson, FDR or Truman. Indeed, when it comes to winning elections, the Dems have no Karl Rove, master of sleaze.

The Dems also desperately need their own Roger Ailes, the Fox News chief, because the Republican Party commands the airwaves for no reason except that it lacks competition. Fox News (there’s an oxymoron for us) wins the ratings war nightly. Bill O’Reilly, despite setbacks like his egomania, constantly interrupting his guests, misinformation and the small matter of a sexual harassment suit which he bought off, has twice the viewers as poor CNN and MSNBC.

The most listened to radio talk show host is Rush Limbaugh, who daily opines arrogantly on families, children, the military and those pinhead professors in higher education. He has had four wives, no children, dodged the draft and briefly attended a small college in Missouri. Still, he rules.

Liberals tried to mount their own radio network, Air America, which bombed due to the three N’s: inexperience, ineptitude and in-fighting. To be fair (and balanced), Fox had its own bomb when it attempted to run a conservative faux news program like Comedy Central. I believe it lasted three shows before being yanked. Leave comedy to the libs.

Remember the old days when Dems like LBJ ran the Senate as his own mom-and-pop store and sly old Sam Rayburn played the House like his private orchestra? The Dems politely listened to the GOPers, then did as they pleased, and Texas got whatever it wanted. Oh, those were also good times for Lone Star Democrats in Austin. They had been in firm control of the Texas government since Reconstruction ended in 1874. It’s hard to realize that the Dems ran Texas for 100 years, longer the PRI controlled Mexico or the Communists ran the Soviet Union.

Back then, whoever won the Dem primary in Texas was automatically sworn into office. John Tower changed that on a fluke but, as John Connally used to say, “I didn’t leave the Democratic Party. It left me.” Connally, Phil Gramm, even Gov. Rick Perry and scores of other life-long Dem officials switched parties. Today outsiders think that was weird, and chasten Perry for his Democratic youth, but here in Texas everybody was doing it and the switch didn’t make any difference.

The last time Democrats in Texas won a major statewide race — president, Senate or governor — was back in 1990 when Ann Richards was elected governor.That was before some of today’s voters were born. Well-funded Dem candidates like Tony Sanchez and well-intentioned candidates like former Houston Mayor Bill White went down to ignominious defeat. The last Democratic presidential candidate to win the state was Jimmy Carter in 1976. Previously, a Democrat had to win Texas to win the White House, but in the 1992 elections Bill Clinton won the Oval Office while losing Texas electoral votes. Barack Obama did the same.

The Texas Tribune reported last year: “In the latest election, the Democrats lost record numbers of incumbents down the ballot…the number of Democrats in the 150-member State House fell to a historic low of 51 from 74. But Republicans won unprecedented victories at the local level, too: They elected 115 county judges in the state’s 254 counties, 339 county commissioners, 209 constables and 78 sheriffs. Party officials say that, in all, they gained 234 elected officials at the county level in Texas.”

In my own case, every single elected official above me — from city council to county commissioner, state rep and state senator, the U.S. House and Senate — every one of them is GOP. Some are good, most are ghastly, but it makes no difference, if they’ve got an R by their name on the ballot, they’re in. It’s not that the GOPers are so smart, it’s that the Dems are so bloody inept. An intelligent and efficient Dem today must be frustrated. Those party meetings must sound and look like the Children’s Crusade. No organization, no money, no decent candidates and no future. Where are Lloyd Bensten, Jim Hogg, John Nance Garner and Bob Bullock? The Dems have replaced Barbara Jordan with Sheila Jackson Lee.

We began with a quote by Will Rogers, so let’s end with one that certainly applies to today’s hapless Democratic Party leaders: “If you’re riding’ ahead of the herd, take a look back every now and then to make sure it’s still there.”

 

Ashby is independent at ashby2@comcast.net

 

 

POLLS APART

THE MAIL BOX — Here’s an interesting letter from Americans for a Better America. “As a leader in the community, your opinion is most valued in making policy for the AmerBetAmer. Please take a moment to fill out the enclosed survey which we shall use in our etc. etc.” Hey, that’s me, a leader in the community. OK, maybe in the neighborhood, or my block or my office, for sure.

No matter, Americans for a Better America need my advice. First question from this independent, non-partisan organization: “I believe President Obama (a) is our best president ever (b) is a genius (c) deserves a second Nobel Peace Prize.” Here’s another question: “Speaker John Boehner should be: (a) crucified (b) ostracized (c) cauterized.” I’m not real sure this is an independent, non-partisan group. On reading further, I am asked whether illegal immigrants should be given either a two- or four-year college scholarship, should brokerage houses be razed and salt sewn on their site and should all branches of the military be unionized.

As a leader of your community, you, no doubt get these questionnaires, too. Sometimes they are accompanied by a personal letter from either Presidents Bush, Obama, Clinton or Bush asking me by name – which is dropped into every other paragraph – to support their party and/or vote for their candidate. They always end with: “To further our goals and preserve America from the pagan opposition which seeks to strangle our children and jail our parents, please make a donation to Americans for a Free America” (or maybe People Who Love Their Country, Citizens Against Bad Things). This donation can be made with cash, check, credit card or beaver pelts. They usually ask for $50 and quickly move to $10,000 which makes me a Friend of Important People.

Here’s another letter. This is from Texans for a More Livable Earth. Must be one of those tree-hugger groups organized by flower children from the 60s. “Most people believe a little arsenic in our water doesn’t hurt. Do you agree or are you one of those leftist-pinkos who thinks we should go back to living in caves?” Strange. Next question: “How warmly would you welcome a job-creating toxic dump in your neighborhood school yard?” This must be a lobbying group which hides itself in a title that means exactly the opposite of its goals. Here’s a clue. In fine type it reads: “Paid for by Friends of SMOG.” They take credit cards made with non-recyclable plastic.

At least I’m not paying for it. My Congressman is constantly sending me news letters touting his success in stopping anything the opposition supports. There are photos of him wielding the gavel in the House, which appears to be empty, along with stories about how he saved civilization by voting to abolish child labor laws and the EPA but to increase Congressional pay raises. At the bottom, in fine print, usually in Norwegian, “Paid for by taxpayers. Speaking of which, my re-election fund could use some help. Please use the return envelope. Cash is preferable.”

Last week I got a letter from Karl Rove. Clever fellow. He, too, knows I’m a leader in this time zone. “Do Democrats deserve a warning shot?” “How much did you donate to the George W. Bush Presidential Library & Swift Boat Yacht Club? That’s not enough.” “Should Barack Hussein Obama be given political asylum or returned to Kenya?” “How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck would only donate to my PAC, Americans Who Believe in Karl Rove? Credit cards are accepted.”

The division between church and state is becoming blurred, which is why the Rev. Leviticus Deuteronomy, head of Americans Who Believe in Doing Good, sent me a solicitation “to throw out the Godless non-Christians who attempt to elect people with funny last names.” Tithing is accepted – and expected.

It’s gonna get worse. Be prepared for an onslaught of donation-seeking missives about the upcoming – like in more than a year – presidential elections. That contest, we will be assured, “is the most important election in American history,” which is self-important twaddle. The most important presidential election was in 1860, which resulted in the bloodiest war in our nation’s history. The 1932 election was important because it resulted in the end of Prohibition. In comparison, the 2012 contest won’t mean much. That won’t stop us from being hammered by letters seeking our advice, and, of course: “In order to continue our fight please donate etc. etc.”

Besides buttering us up as a world leaders, they play the guilt trip by sending us something we don’t want, didn’t ask for and would like to return but it’s too much trouble. Calendars, bumper stickers and, above all, return-address stickers. I’ve got a drawer full of them. Doctors Against Sickness sent me 8,000 stickers and a plea for “contributions to fight this terrible disease.” Is this lobbying group opposing Doctors For Sickness?

The Ralph Nader Kill the Fat Cats Committee asked: “Are thumb screws too gentle for Detroit’s big three or do you recommend water-boarding?” Recently I got a survey from the Mexican-American Immigration Forum. It was in Spanish.

But unlike these objective and neutral surveys, some questionnaires are so slanted and loaded as to make me wonder if the sender really expects an honest feel for the country. “As a leading candidate for sainthood, what is your main source of news? The liberal, anti-American mainstream media. The fair and balanced Fox News. Some guy who told you. Graffiti on the restroom walls. Sarah Palin’s autobiography. Your tax-supported den of liars in the White House. None of the above.” Another survey: “Do you generally identify yourself as a (a) money-grubbing, polluting, Wall Street sleazy, Nazi knuckle-dragger (b) Democrat?”

A final survey: “As a leader of the Western World, do you think these questions are slanted and loaded, or do you agree with us, Texans for a Greater Texas? Either way, please make a generous contribution to….”

Ashby is questionable at ashby2@comcast.net

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MALLED BY AN EXTERMINATOR

 

 

THE PARKING LOT – Most people don’t see the front of their car very often, which is why so many vehicles are on the roads with only one headlight. I park my car in the barn head first and go into the house. Probably so do you. In a parking lot I usually approach my car from the rear. Thus it is impossible to determine when and where this happened: there is a gash in my front bumper, not a bad one, but I find out later it will cost me $375 to get it fixed.

I sure didn’t hit anything hard enough to cause this scar or I’d known it. Perhaps a valet parker performed the surgery. They go racing out to the parking lot of the cockfight to retrieve your car and drive it back at Mach 2. But more probably this slicing and dicing occurred when I was parked in a slot in a shopping center and some other vehicle came roaring in to park and slammed into my front bumper. Whoever did the damage knew it, but chose to just ignore the problem. Why? No insurance, probably. Every time the state insurance board checks, about one-fourth to one-third of Texas motorists have no car insurance.

Simply being in shopping centers is participating in a demolition derby, hazardous to the health of you and your car. First, people drive across the empty parts of the lots without regard to lanes, stop signs and white stripes. We have no way of knowing where that cannonball is headed. It has been observed that a Texas developer’s idea of an unchartered wilderness is a parking lot without white stripes, yet there are the people who don’t know how to park between the white stripes. They straddle them, or park way over to one side so that when you come out to get in your car you have to climb through the trunk.

You have noticed, no doubt, that shopping center parking lots are stop-free zones. Cars just roll through stop signs. Another problem: Have you ever returned from the anvil store to your car and you can’t find it? I used to be lost until I put on my new bumper sticker: “Ask me about my grand-serf” and: “I’d Rather Be Pillaging.” Speaking of bumper stickers, in my local shopping center LSU decals and “Geaux Tigers” outnumber Longhorn and Aggie bumper stickers and shiny metal stick-ons. Around presidential elections no one needs to poll my neighbors. Any car bearing a Democratic candidate’s name gets a parking ticket.

Here are the spaces reserved for the handicapped. Notice the pogo sticks and skateboards in the back seats. These are the same cars we see at lots set aside for marathon runners. Some slots are reserved for 15-minute parkers. Those 15 minutes can last for hours. Ah, here’s a spot up close. No, wait. It’s full of grocery carts. Actually, I see grocery carts scattered all over the lot. Some are spread around the neighborhood. When the anchor store is a grocery, you see lots of carts. When the anchor is a Macy’s or Dillard’s, it’s probably closed.

Here comes a car towards me. Just as some people can’t park between white lines, some ignore the gigantic white arrows painted on the asphalt, and drive the wrong way down the lane. We might think that all the rows of parked cars which are facing the other direction would be a clue as to which way to go. Some people are stupid.

Before backing out from my slot, I always look carefully both ways, and all I see are the sides of SUVs the size of my local post office. Am I the only person in Texas who still drives a car? Not a pickup truck with eight doors, 17-feet high and a front deer catcher, or an RV that holds the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Vans also block out the sunlight. But mostly it’s the SUVs that make backing out in a shopping center parking lot suicidal. With a Dodge X-2 Exterminator on one side and a Ford Outback Annihilator on the other, slowly I back out, only to be greeted by a loud horn blast as someone is telling me that my next visit will be to the body repair shop.

Incidentally, the Highland Park Shopping Center in Dallas claims to be the first and oldest such center in the nation. I was there the other day. You still have to inherit a parking slot. I like shopping centers where you can drive right up to the tattoo parlor, get out and walk in. For that reason I am not a big fan of malls because I have to park miles away. Malls have parking lots with their own ZIP codes. Then, after shopping and lugging packages and/or pushing strollers, wheel chairs or carrying a manikin, you weave your way through the muggers to get to your car.

As I drive around, I look for the car that smashed in my front bumper. (An SUV would have pushed the engine into the trunk.) Playing CIS, I am on the watch for scraps of my paint on the offending offender’s bumper. It seems half the vehicles have some kind of scratch, dent, dog fur or handlebar embedded in them.

Recently I was in a fender-bender in this parking lot. A woman suddenly pulled out in front and hit me. At least that was my version. She said it was my fault. “Officer, are you going to believe me or those two surveillance cameras?” I whined.

All of this reminds me of the guy who scrapes another car in a parking lot. He notices several shoppers waiting to see what he’ll do. So he gets out a pad and pen and writes: “I just scraped your car and everyone thinks I’m leaving you my name and phone number. I’m not. Drop dead.”

 

Ashby is double-parked at ashby2@comcast.net

WELCOME TO TEXAS

We must consider this statement: “Aggies are alums of Perry’s alma mater, Texas A&M.” Uh-oh. Explaining that an Aggie is a student or graduate of Texas A&M is so obvious. It’s like explaining to a lion tamer that he shouldn’t wear a meat suit. Not to put too fine a point on it (don’t you just love those pompous English terms?), but the aging Fightin’ Farmers don’t even call themselves “alums,” but rather “former students” or “Turkey Day Depressed.”

The above quote is from an essay in The New York Times by columnist Gail Collins, a remarkably astute journalist who is writing a book on Texas. But obviously, when it comes to the Lone Star State, readers of the Times don’t know beans – which they probably put in their chili. So what’s new?

What’s new is that Collins’s work is only one of many by visiting journalists from the Eastern establishment press who have come to write about our state, because of the impending presidency of Texas Gov. Rick Perry. Many reports will be enlightening, but many will be wrong. So in an attempt to head off errors, distortions and omissions about our beloved home, let us offer some advice, remembering all along: Longhorns and longnecks, no place but Texas, built by God, guns and guts – the last two can be seen in some of our finer watering holes on Saturday nights.

First, we don’t like government, pronounced “gubment.” Texas is a donor state, meaning we send more money to Washington than we get back. This does not prevent us from wrestling every dime we can from the U.S. Treasury, as the Johnson Space Center was telling the Houston Ship Channel and Fort Hood. This is not hypocrisy, but a love-hate relationship. We love the bank. We hate the banker.

A few more points: “Friday Night Lights” is shown on the Religion Channel. The Texas Legislature has proclaimed four Official Heroes of Texas: Stephen F. Austin, Davy Crockett, Sam Houston and – no kidding — Earl Campbell. If you put a hinge on the top of the Panhandle and flipped Texas northward, Brownsville would be in Canada, but this would sure flatten Topeka. Brownsville is nearer to Guatemala than it is to Dalhart. Texans believe the Second Amendment gives everyone the Constitutional protection to protect the Constitution.

Some don’ts: Never say, “Willie’s OK but I prefer Bach.” “Davy surrendered.”

Never walk into a cantina, ice house or saloon and shout: “Draw!” Don’t use your car’s directional blinker. Armadillos are not possum on the half shell. And don’t mess with Texas, ever!

There are some myths which you should not repeat: It is a myth that Texas can leave the Union anytime it wishes. We tried that once, in 1861, and it didn’t fly. Another myth is that only the Lone Star flag can fly at the same height as the U.S. flag. Any state can do that. But we do love our ensign. During the flag-burning debate before the U.S. Supreme Court on March 21, 1989, Justice Sandra Day O’Connor asked the Texas attorney whether a state has as much interest in protecting its state flag as the American flag. Justice Antonin Scalia interjected, “Well, Texas maybe.” The Texas attorney replied, “Texas, absolutely, your honor.” I rest my case.

 

Religion is important in Texas. We firmly believe God may be an Englishman, but when he retires he’ll move to Lakeway. It is no accident that the largest building in any small town is the First Baptist Church. The second largest is the Second Baptist Church. Listen to the radio preachers who will tell you how they found God. For some it was through the Yellow Pages. You will learn that Texans follow a common faith and a common Sunday prayer, especially if the Cowboys are behind. And note how, before we execute our convicts, they are read their civil rites.

Some of you ink-stained wretches will write of “Texas fatigue” because so many Texans have occupied the White House in recent years. Beginning with Eisenhower, and if Perry wins two terms, a Lone Star Statesman will have occupied the Oval Office exactly half that time. So?

A few pointers on what we say and how we say it: “If at first you don’t secede…” is not a pun on a cliché but a political movement. When we speak of “inside the beltway” we mean our waistlines. “Foreign relations” refers to our cousins back in Matamoros. The “evil empire” is the EPA. When we want you to join us, we say, “Sit rat cheer.” A Yellow Dog Democrat is not a rabid Republican. The “oil business” is the “awl bidniss,” which needs government subsidies without those bothersome tree-huggers nosing around.

We can always spot a new TV weatherperson because they get place names wrong, so try: Refugio, Pedernales and Waxahachie. Despite the Branch Davidians’ fame, it’s WAY-koe, not WACK-o.

“Vanna, do we have a G up there for this cowboy?” We say goin’ and doin’ and talkin.’ When we say we’re fixin’ to do something, it does not mean we will take a hammer and nails to repair something. It means we are about to do something, like fix Perry’s platform.

This brings us to the three newcomers who were driving through central Texas and saw a sign, “Mexia.” Says one newcomer: “Up ahead is MEX-eye-a.”

“No,” says the other, “it’s pronounced, Muh-HAY-ya.”

“You’re both wrong,” says the third. “The town is called Meh-ee-uh.”

They pull into a cafe and order lunch. One says to the waitress, “Excuse me, Ma’m, but we’ve been arguing over how to pronounce the name of this place. Would you say it, real slowly?”

She takes a big breath, and says slowly, “DAY-re Queeeeen.”

Finally, one of our major problems is that so many others want to join us, crowding our schools, highways and jails. So welcome to Texas. Just don’t stay.

 

Tex Ashby is writin’ at ashby2@comcast.net

 

CANDY IS DANDY

THE GROCERY STORE – It’s got to be here somewhere. It was here last week. I spot a clerk. “Excuse me, but where is the candy?” He looks at me curiously. I continue: “You know, Baby Ruth, Hershey’s, M&Ms. (I didn’t actually say “M ampersand M.”), those common, ordinary, vanilla, or maybe chocolate, candies.”

He gestures towards an aisle. “We’ve got shelves, aisles, an entire section for candy.”

I peer down the aisle. There are, indeed, loads of candies, all festooned in orange and black. Tricks and treats sweets. Cheap junk to create cavities in small mouths. Stuff that their mothers won’t let them eat, so it ends up the garbage. That kind of candy.

“It’s October,” he says. “You know what that means?”

“Sure, every October 31 is Halloween to celebrate the night before All Hallows Day, thus Hallowed Eve which became Halloween. It began as a religious holiday but was overtaken by costume manufacturers, horror-movie makers and the sugar lobby.”

He holds up his hand to stop me. “There’s a food fight in the produce section. I’ve got a clean up on Aisle 4.” (He didn’t actually say “4.” He said “four.”)

Have you tried to buy just plain candy lately? Unless you hit a Godiva shop during its annual hedge fund managers’ sale, right now all you can buy are Indian Corn, Autumn Mix, Spooky-Spicy, Ghost Host, Witches Brew and Sweet Sweat. They are dolled up in Halloween attire. Here’s something called Brach’s Mellowcreme Pumpkins. Mellowcreme? There’s no such word. What with LOL, Numb3rs, CitiBank and Toys R Us, no wonder our kids can’t spell.

The orange and black bag lists “Nutrition Facts,” i.e., the ingredients: sugar, corn syrup, confectioner’s glaze, gelatin, artificial flavor, along with yellow 6, red 3, yellow 5 and blue 1. This is nutrition? Besides not being able to spell, we have a generation of obese children because all they eat are gelatin and yellow 6.

Halloween is a holiday devoted strictly to candy, but it is not alone. As soon as the ghosts and goblins put their costumes back in the closet, stores will clean their shelves of candy and store it all in a warehouse till next fall. Quickly the aisles will be filled with chocolate turkeys, Plymouth Rock candies and orange pumpkins with artificially flavored orange. On Thanksgiving Day we recall the suffering of the Pilgrims by stuffing ourselves silly.

The Friday after the Turkey Day games, out go the autumnal sugar-coated celebrations to make way for Christmas candies. Honey dipped mistletoe, saccharine Santas, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Tootsie Roll and Brach’s Mellowcreme reindeer. Candy canes stick out of candy-filled stockings. Tree ornaments are edible. Wreaths taste great. That’s not a jolly old elf, that’s a Jell-Old elf.

Hurry and put away those Christmas goodies for New Year’s is on the way. Champagne, hats and horns, and, of course, January Canduary. Finish up because Valentine’s Day is here. Forget what I said earlier about Halloween being the only holiday strictly for candy. Valentine’s Day, named for the patron saint of diabetes, is all about candy. How many Whitman’s Samplers are sold?

Quick, get those heart-shaped red candy boxes off the shelves because Easter is on the way. It only takes an instant for the quick-change artists at my grocery store to swap cupids for crosses as somehow yet another religious holiday has been converted into a confectionary convulsion. Easter eggs come in many colors and flavors. So do cute little candy ducks and rabbits. No doubt Australian children hunt for hidden mint-filled platypuses because they lay eggs, too.

By now our eyes are confectioner’s glazed-over with holiday after holiday, each one requiring that we buy sweets. It never ends: Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Secretary’s Day, (Oops, now it’s Administrative Assistant’s Day. Is Hillary Clinton the Administrative Assistant of State?) Memorial Day is not much of a candygram but July 4th has its own red, white and blueberry sweets. Labor Day is hot and humid, which means lots of lemonade.

Grandparents Day never caught on, mainly because our grandparents had been eating so much candy they died of sugar shock. This brings us to sugar-free sweets. A whole lot of Americans can’t consume sugar, but that makes no difference. With a little hunting, we can find sugar-free Easter turkeys and Valentine’s Day witches.

I go next door to the drug store, although just why it is here isn’t clear since the Super Sack ‘n’ Save Grocery Store has a drug store, too, along with photo shop, dry cleaning and blacksmith’s forge. Just as grocery stores today are about half groceries and half motor oil and deodorants, drug stores have banned the section that actually sells drugs to an obscure corner. The rest of the place is for toys, birthday and bar mitzvah cards, mops, over-the-counter pills and — what else? — candy. Here in the Drug Lord I can tell which holiday is up next by which Hallmark card display covers most of the aisles. There is Christmas candy, Easter candy, Guy Fawkes Day candy, cavity-creating treats for the Chinese New Year, MLK Day and Presidents Day.

Texas state employees celebrate Texas Independence Day, San Jacinto Day and Emancipation Day, the latter best known as June Teenth. The state bureaucrats also mark Confederate Heroes Day, Cesar Chavez Day and LBJ’s birthday. Grocery and drug stores in Austin (“Live Music Capital of the World”) probably reflect these taxpayer-paid vacations with the appropriate cards, music and candy rappers. For all practical purposes, Cinco de Mayo is a state holiday, too.

So it is that I am not able to buy a simple Milky Way or Hershey bar. Not unless I want it all gussied up in some holiday wrapping. I tell the clerk, “I just want to buy a plain candy bar, not a holiday parade float. Not Almond Joy to the World or Life Saviors. The Three Musketeers are sucrose, lactose, and fructose.”

“You mean 3 Musketeers.”

 

Ashby is sweet at ashby2@comcast.net

 

OUR SNOUT IN THE TROUGH

The Department of Homeland Security has given the State of Texas at least $1.7 billion in grants since 9/11. The money is for anti-terrorists prevention plus our own safety and security. Like a $21 fish tank in Seguin, a $24,000 latrine on wheels in Fort Worth, and a hog catcher in Liberty County.

Huh? A fish tank? A portable john? A hog catcher, apparently to catch even more pork? It seems grants to Liberty County also bought $6,167 worth of feed pans and dog crates. Sure, they’re listed as “dog crates,” but have you checked those photos from Abu Ghraib? Why do you think the MPs needed leashes?

It gets worse. Under the guise of homeland security we also paid $47 for bird cages and $5 for rodent cages. Kleberg County bought two brand-new 2011 Camaros, each costing $30,884. Whose brother has the Camaro dealership in Kleberg County? The Department of Homeland Security (DHS) paid for body bags, garbage bags and Ziploc bags, for hog leftovers, probably.

Even when something is purchased, apparently no one knows what to do with it: A $250,000 first-responder trailer had been parked since its purchase, obviously without much use, and bolt cutters had to be used to open another trailer because the keys couldn’t be found. “That’s sure a mushroom-shaped cloud, Billy John. Where are the keys? No, I thought you had the keys. Anybody got the keys?” Once inspectors broke in, they found two new mobile generators with flat tires.

All of these mind-numbing revelations and more were dug up by the Fort Worth Star-Telegram (don’t we just hate the liberal media?) in poking through thousands of purchase orders. In addition, a report this year by the inspector general of DHS criticized Texas’ management of DHS grants from 2006 to 2008. The audit showed that the state was generally efficient in administering the grant programs, but passed the money to local governments without adequately defined objectives. Nor did the state adequately monitor the cities, counties, etc., the report says. Instead – get this — the state asked local officials to rate their own performance.

Austin also asked the Department of Public Safety (DPS) to check how the funds were being spent. Yet in the four years ending in 2009, DPS evaluated only about 60 grant recipients a year, among the many handouts, with little or no emphasis on performance, the inspector general’s audit found. This is a nice way of saying our state government is sloppily spreading our tax dollars, and has no idea how they were spent. Then Austin asked the local officials to rate their own performance. That’s crazy.

“The state,” we must remember, is Texas, governed by the Honorable Rick Perry, that watchdog of waste and fraud, who absolutely detests Washington, the federal government and the Redskins. But that $1.7 billion the feds gave the state, well, that’s another matter. It is the same as requesting federal funds to help fight forest fires from a government you ridicule in hopes of running that very government. There is something hypocritical about biting the handout that feeds you, but it is extra bad when those very funds are wasted. If Perry has trouble running Texas, how can he run the entire country?

There is, however, an answer: “They don’t know what they’re talking about,” explained former Texas Homeland Security director Jay Kimbrough. (Kimbrough has been Perry’s policy point-man for almost every crisis in his administration from drug task forces to the Texas Youth Commission, and was temporarily chancellor of the Texas A&M System.)

We paid for framing hammers, envelopes and hanging folders. Is some Texas town going to mail al-Quida a threat? Somebody requested those funds and got them. Sort of gives new meaning to “pushing the envelope.” The city of San Antonio got a $2.99 million helicopter and a $349,916 Ballistic Engineered Armored Response vehicle. North Richland Hills has a $225,913 armored vehicle.

Wait, there’s more. DHS has poured a total of $6.1 billion into Texas for homeland protection, much of it going directly to local governments, bypassing Perry. This amount includes $4,422 spent at a Sugar Land gym equipment store, $67,740 for gym memberships and almost $427K for “veterinary/animal care services” in Humble. Why?

Now a most important question: Did you get any of that $6.1 billion? I sure didn’t, but others did. So we must poke our own snout into the government trough. We apply for funds to pay for projects that sounds important. For example, a few thou for an “anti-al-Quida protector, guaranteed to plant fear in the heart of any would-be terrorist.” It’s a razor and a bar of soap. “Suicide bomber eradicator,” aka a short fuse. Guys, need a new yacht to check out the chicks on the beach? No problem, there are probably funds for “nautical surveillance equipment.”

Short some money for that vacation in Paris? “Texas Anti-IED, Inc.” should have no trouble landing big DHS contracts. IED does not stand for Improvised Explosive Device, those road-side bombs, but rather stands for Imminent European Departure. That will go unnoticed by the Perry watchdogs. Use military parlance: “Border Waster, one, Model 67-X. Flammable.” OK, so it’s a case of tequila. Who will know? Considering the lack of oversight, just be honest: “Dancing lessons, $434. Birthday party for kids, $187.” Those costs should be covered without question.

This whole outrageous boondoggle can be laid at the feet of those running for office against boondoggles. Finally if you are wondering how any city or county could justify buying bird cages and fish tanks, we turn to Pamela Centeno, a Seguin city planner who administers some of the grants. The cages and tanks allow refugees to drop off their mice or goldfish on the way to San Antonio. She wasn’t sure how many fish the tank could hold. Considering all the pork we have purchased, Perry’s new book, “Fed Up!,” is not so much a title as instructions to the waiter.

 

Ashby is scheming at ashby2@comcast.net

 

 

 

 

THE FIRST AGGIE

by Lynn Ashby

THE LOBBY – Welcome to the presidential library of former President Rick Perry. First, you may have noticed as you drove up that this building has a steeple with a cross on the top. It is well-known President Perry – former chief executives are always referred to as “President” even if, like Jimmy Carter and George Bush the Elder, they were unceremoniously thrown out of office – felt his library should reflect his religiosity. This also explains the stained glass windows and the Gregorian chants in the background. Yes, this place gives a whole new meaning to “the bully pulpit,” which is in the next room. But he doesn’t like to make too much of this, as he said in his last sermon.

You ask, “Did my tax dollars go to build this religious shrine? I thought there was a separation between church and state.” Actually, this is one of 14 presidential libraries administered by the National Archives and Records Administration. All of them have to be built at private expense, although public funds are used to maintain them. The new George W. Bush Library at SMU will cost a half billion dollars, including a $210 million endowment, about a three times the cost of any other presidential library. The taxpayers’ cost to operate our various presidential libraries is about $64 million each year. It’s a mere pittance compared to the price of a nuclear aircraft carrier.

There’s a question? No, Congress doesn’t scrimp on the upkeep because in the backs of their minds, every single one of them, is the thought that someday they, too, may have one of these monuments to themselves. Now come along to the library’s right wing. There is no left wing. This glass case contains the uniform Perry wore as a Texas A&M yell leader. Notice it is all white, with no school name across the chest. This makes it easy for the yell leaders to buy their uniforms at any hospital supply store. Incidentally, the term is “yell leader,” not “cheerleader.” Speaking of colleges, President Perry wanted professors to stick to teaching. I believe tenure was outlawed in 2016 and research was banned the following year.

The President likes Aggie traditions, which is why, during his State of the Union speeches, the entire Congress had to remain standing, and let out an occasional “Whoop!” although some of the opposition would yell, “Maroon is also a verb!” But his background has nothing to do with tripling federal grant money to the Brazos County Ballet or the new College Station submarine base. OK, so it’s a wide beach. And the Trans-Texas Corridor was never really dead.

Next we see the Presidential Hair Stylist & Boot Shop. This glass case contains the late Wile E. Coyote, who savagely attacked then-Governor Perry’s dog while Perry was on the jogging trail. To the left are several late donkeys and elephants who savagely attacked Perry while he was on the campaign trail. Here are the floor plans of the $9,000-a-month rented mansion the governor lived in after the other Governor’s Mansion burned. Note the swimming pool and guest house. Next we have the Texas State Schoolbook. After the budget cuts, it got a lot of use. No, we don’t show the names of the thousands of poor sick children cut off from health care while he was governor. Why should we?

Another question? Yes, when running for his last term as governor, Perry swore he wouldn’t run for president during that term. But so did Clinton and Obama. If you are going to believe every promise a politician makes, I’ve got some peace dividends and middle class tax cuts for sale.

Seeking a presidential library can be dicey. When Bush the Elder was first elected, a bidding war began among various Texas schools. Rice and UH wanted the library separately, then joined to make a duel bid, placing the institution in the middle of a Houston park. That idea was DOA. A&M got Bush’s approval, and the Aggies thought they had eight years of documents to show and eight years to drum up the money, because all Bush had opposing him for a second term was some pink-cheeked hillbilly named Clinton. Need I go on?

Why is this library located here in Paint Creek? Texas already had three presidential libraries, and this one gave us more than any other state. As Perry was the governor of Texas, the UT campus was considered as a site for his papers — along with the future burial place for the president and his wife, just like LBJ, Reagan and George H.W. Bush. However, Perry said, “T-sips? Over my dead body.” We thought that was the whole point, but it ended the discussion.

The obvious place for the library was College Station, but Bush the Elder got there first. So that left us with Perry’s home town of Paint Creek, population 273, “Gateway to Hog Creek.” True, we are a bit out of the way for tourists, but presidential scholars keep coming, looking for compassionate conservatism.

While Perry was running for the presidency, Washington pundits brought up “Texas fatigue” because Texans had occupied the White House 17 of the previous 48 years (more if you count Ike). Speaking of which, this tablet is a quote from noted political scientist Larry Sabato, of the University of Virginia, on then-Governor Perry’s chances at the Oval Office: “I love Texans, but I think with the Bush presidency being such a fresh memory, it’s probably not a wise idea for Republicans to nominate a Texan for president.” Professor Sabato now teaches remedial hieroglyphics at Western Montana Community College and Sasquatch Shelter.

One last question. Yes, that talk by Perry about Texas seceding from the U.S. caused a bit of a ruckus at the time, and kept growing, which is why Rick Perry was president of Texas. Thanks to both of you for visiting the Perry Presidential Library. I’ve been your guide, Mitt.

 

Ashby shushes at ashby2@comcast.net

 

 

CONFERENCE CALL

Goodbye to Texas A-and-M. So long to the maroon and the whi-i-i-ite. Hullabaloo disconnect, disconnect. All their exes live in Texas. Yes, the Texas Aggies – again intimidated by the Teasips, this time by the Longhorn TV network — have picked up their inferiority complex and left. They are departing the Big XII athletic conference to join the Southeastern Conference, there to do annual battle with South Carolina, Kentucky and, the big rivalry, Vanderbilt. I can hardly wait. Fortunately, for tradition’s sake, the Aggies will still be playing UT in those orange and white uniforms – the University of Tennessee. But somehow it won’t be the same.

If you are not a sports fan but only pay state taxes to cover part of the costs of these schools, I’ll explain. For 82 years there was the Southwest Conference made of up to eight Texas schools plus our illegitimate cousin, Arkansas. In 1994, UT, A&M, Texas Tech, with Baylor added for its GPA, joined the Big Eight to form the Big XII. (XII is the only Latin most coaches know). That left SMU, TCU, Rice and UH adrift, bouncing from one conference to another. After last season, Nebraska and Colorado left for other conferences. Now A&M has split for greener – as in money – pastures. Aggies are the nicest people in Texas, but don’t ever marry one. With them, it’s “for better or I’m gone.”

Why all this changing around? The real and only reason is TV money for football. Nothing else comes second. The Big XII has a $1.17 BILLION deal with Fox Sports. UT alone has an athletic budget of $167-million this year, more than any school in the nation.

Now why you non-sports folks should care: In an op/ed piece by former Gov. Mark White, he quotes noted Texas economist M. Ray Perryman’s research group which estimates that the negative annual economic impact of A&M leaving the Big XII at between $217.2 million and $589.5 million, and the loss of between 3,050 and 8,329 jobs, depending on one of two scenarios. “In scenario one, A&M would leave the conference and the rest of the Big XII would remain intact. The second scenario assumes the departure of A&M and the dissolution of the Big XII.”

This is outrageous. How can we teach those young students holed up in College Station about loyalty when their leaders betray fellow Texans for a cheap buck, or maybe several million? Fish (that’s Aggie freshmen) are taught the value of A&M traditions. Yeah, they got a great tradition with Auburn. Let’s restore Bonfire before our big game with those Florida Gators. Will the administration please report to conference headquarters? Please drive to Houston, take a flight to New Orleans, then hop a mosquito sprayer to Mobile, rent a car and drive the 211 miles to Birmingham. See you in a couple of weeks.

We took those Aggie football players – virtually all are Texas born and bred — from the age of 12 and turned them into major league players. We showered them with equipment, uniforms, coaches, cheerleaders and bands. They played in high school stadiums most colleges would envy. When they got to Aggieland, same thing only add several zeros to the costs. Now, when they are finally making money for us, they will be turning the stadium’s stiles in Athens, Ga., while their fans will be spending money there, and the SEC will be reaping the TV cash. A&M has played football against UT, Texas Tech and Baylor a combined 313 times. That’s a lot of money made, a lot to lose. Incidentally, I can voice my opinion because I’m an honorary Aggie. At the time they presented me my plaque, they said, “It’s an honor reserved for those who deserve the very best…and almost got it.”

Oh, ye sons of the Alamo! (hang on, I’m just getting started) would the taxpayers from Marfa to Mexia pay for the Corps of Cadets to march up the main street of Lexington, Ky., if there is one, when you could march up Congress Avenue on your  kamikaze mission to take on the Longhorns? Will the agriculturalists in Aggieland, who can grow moss on a rolling stone, turn their attention from cattle to cotton so their team can play in the Weevil Boll?

The Fightin’ Texas Aggie Band is the best collegiate band on Earth. Each halftime they march on the field, looking like chocolate syrup spreading across a pool table. Hey, Starkville and Tuscaloosa, pay attention. No, they’ll be corning their fritters and marrying their cousins. If those Fightin’ Famers want to break away, we expect a big check for damages, or we’ll sue. What’s more, they will be ostracized as traitors to Texas. As we noted before, maroon is also a verb.

So what do the other schools in the conference do? Since every college in America seems to splitting for another conference for big TV bucks, the options are many. The Big XII could bring in other schools such as UH, which has had its nose pressed to the candy store window for years. TCU is showing football respectability after decades of serving as the opponent’s homecoming game. SMU could start hiring good halfbacks again.

We could stay in-state and put Austin College vs UT-Austin, Sam Houston State vs. the University of Houston, Baylor against Mary-Hardin Baylor. UTEP against UTSA, UT-Dallas vs. the University of Dallas. Texas A&M-Commerce against any other Texas A&M at (fill in the blank – there are dozens). But note there is no University of Texas at Houston. UTAH would confuse sportswriters, most of whom think Condoleezza Rice is served with soy sauce.

Maybe we could lump all schools with the same nickname in one conference. Of course, the Baylor Bears would have 29 other schools to play. There are seven Aggies. The SEC alone has two Bulldogs and two Tigers, which must be confusing. The TCU Horned Frogs would stand all alone, with the Heidelberg College Student Princes, the Sweet Briar Vixens, the Scottsdale Community College Fighting Artichokes and my favorite, the Cal-Santa Cruz Banana Slugs. Oddly enough, those school names were never copied.

Here is my sure-fire plan to restore football glory to the state of Texas, stoke rivalries and turn big bucks on ticket sales. We get a few colleges together like, say, SMU, TCU, UH and Texas Tech. We add Baylor and Rice to give the conference some class, and UT and A&M for the big crowds and heavy money. We call it, get this, the Southwest Conference! Now, is that a stroke of genius or what?

 

Ashby is unsportsmanlike at ashby2@comcast.net

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where’s the safest place

By Lynn Ashby                                                                5 Sept.  2011

Right after an earthquake, a hurricane hit New York City, sending Yankees fleeing Irene like evacuees from Katrina. Just as with the Cajuns, the Gothamites, too, had bottled water, cans of Sterno, long lines of cars, bottled vodka, pets in cages, bottled Sterno. Up till then, they thought they were safe from storms, if not muggers, high taxes and the Mets. Did I mention earthquakes?

After the New Yorkers’ return home, maybe they found out what happens to the plywood. Here in Texas before every storm from the Gulf, everyone runs out and buys plywood to hammer over store fronts and house windows. The next year everyone buys more plywood. Where did last year’s plywood go? Did it burn? Was it stolen by termites?

Anyway, we might say the New Yorkers’ flight and plight serve them right, after those many years they ridiculed people along the Gulf Coast. “Why would anyone want to live there, since every couple of years a hurricane comes along and flattens everything?”

The national media, especially the TV networks, are headquartered in Manhattan. Every time a dark cloud appears just west of Africa heading towards America, the news shows go bananas about the impending disaster that might hit NEW YORK CITY! Beaumont could be flooded. Houston is swamped and they can’t find Corpus. But if Manhattan appears even slightly in the crosshairs, it’s a major story. Irene did, indeed, turn out to be over-hyped hysteria as far as the Big Apple was concerned, but it brings up a question: where can we live that is safe? And, of course, it makes us think of Wilmer McLean.

Let’s look at the record. This storm hit much of the eastern coast, a feat which is common. Hurricanes have long slammed into Florida. Key West has been hit ever since someone found the key. Georgia, too. The Carolinas are old hands at running from storms. In Boston in1954, Hurricane Carol toppled the steeple in the Old North Church where, as Sarah Palin explained, Paul Revere kept a lookout for attacking Japanese warplanes.

Towns along the Gulf of Mexico are still recovering from a parade of hurricanes with their death and destruction. IH 10 from Houston west to Columbus has big electric signs announcing evacuation routes. There are contra-flow barriers. Yes, coastal Texans know natural disasters. How about west Texas? How about wildfires? Arizona is safe from hurricanes, but half the state burned down in forest fires this year. Northern Arizona, like East Texas, is one big tinderbox. What’s more, dust storms roar through Phoenix like a tsunami.

Kiss off the west coast when it comes to safety. From Seattle to San Diego, windows rattle as earthquakes come and go. A seismologist on the radio last week said, “It’s not if the big quake is coming to the West Coast, but when.” This brings us to Waxahachie. A main reason the underground Superconductor Supercollider was to be placed near Waxahachie was the location was earthquake proof. In 2009, residents in the area experienced five earthquakes in one week. Where is FEMA when you need it?

Each winter the American north gets blizzards, usually several. If you live in Fargo, don’t. Why would anyone stay in Minneapolis in January? Chicago, like Wichita Falls, is scorching in the summer and freezing with a chance of blizzards in the winter. Living there is dangerous.

People living along the Mississippi, Ohio and Missouri rivers annually sandbag their upstairs bedrooms, hoping to keep the water out. It costs a fortune. Floods are hazardous to your wealth. If you like both hurricanes and floods, sometimes together, say hello to the Crescent City. While we’re on hazards, don’t breathe deep in Pasadena and Port Arthur. In Deer Park the kids have a saying, “I shot an arrow into the air. It stuck.” That sounds dangerous. Meanwhile, the Big Drought of ’11 makes all of Texas unsafe.

Which country has more tornadoes than any other? The U.S. records far more tornadoes than any other country, nearly four times more than estimated in all of Europe. We get more than 1,000 tornadoes per year. Second is Canada with about 100. OK, which state has the most tornados? Texas. The 30-year average number of tornadoes per year for Texas is 126. We’re Number One! Oklahoma is in second place with a measly 52. The high number in Texas is mainly due to the state’s size. Over the years, tornadoes have devastated Waco, Fort Worth, Dallas, Lubbock and every place in between, but name the county in Texas that has the most tornados. Harris County, which is Houston and then some. From 1950-2007, Harris County reported the most tornadoes in Texas with 212.

Besides weather, what else makes for a dangerous place to live? El Paso is right across the Rio from Juarez, the bloodiest city on earth. You know when Baghdad wins the silver and Kabul wins the bronze, Juarez is not the place to vacation. Yet El Paso is statistically one of the safest cities in the nation. I blame global warming, but some credit landmines. Still, El Paso is too close to Juarez to be safe.

All of this brings us to Wilmer McLean. In 1861, he had a farm, Yorkshire Plantation, in Manassas, Virginia. Yes, the same Manassas, aka the First Battle of Bull Run. That first major land battle of the Civil War took place on his farm. Rebel officers took over his house as HQ, and a cannon ball went through his chimney.

McLean decided to move because his business activities were centered mostly in southern Virginia, and the Union army presence in his area of northern Virginia made his work difficult. No doubt he also wanted to protect his family from another battle in his front yard. So he moved to, uh, to Appomattox Court House. Duck! So, in seeking a safe place to live, we might consider the McLean Rule of Safety: there isn’t one.

 

Ashby is hiding at ashby2@comcast.net

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A ROYAL PAIN

By Lynn Ashby                                                                29 Aug. 2011

Just when we thought the Canucks had grown up and left the nest, they move back in with Mom. In case you missed it, here’s the news item: “Canada’s Conservative government, stressing ties to Queen Elizabeth II and the monarchy, is reinstating the names Royal Canadian Air Force and Royal Canadian Navy after a gap of 43 years.”

Gen. Walter Natynczyk, chief of the defense staff, explained, “The initiative to restore the historic names of Canada’s three former services is aimed at restoring an important and recognizable part of Canada’s military heritage.” It seems that back in1968, the Canadian Liberal Party removed the “royal” designation when they amalgamated the branches of service and called the military simply “the Canadian Forces.”

Note that the announcement refers to the “three former services,” but does not mention the Canadian Army, which long ago sold off its rifles and commenced to nation building. Actually, Canada is the only country which has erected a monument to its army of peacekeepers. Honest. And we must suppose up north they don’t have a Marine Corps. Maybe they use the Mounties, although charging a beach in those high-collared bright red tunics seems a bit dangerous.

Next our northern cousins will add a Union Jack to their Maple Leaf flag and return to singing “God Save the Queen” in place of  “O Canada,” which was quite pretty the first 54 times you heard it during the Winter Olympics. None of this will go over well with the 7-million French-Canadians. Of course, when your chief of the defense staff is named Natynczyk, he’s probably not French, as I was telling French President Sarkozy. They are still “subjects.” I wouldn’t want to be called a subject. Being a predicate or an adverb is fine, but subject sounds like some peasant toiling in the fields as the king’s carriage rolls by.

Now, some of you Canadians are thinking, “What aboot the colour of your shed-yule, eh? And what business is it of yours?” Well, speaking of business, the U.S. and Canada have the largest trading partnership on Earth. We share the longest border in the world — 5,525 miles — and we speak almost the same language. Vast numbers of Texans have worked in the Yukon in January and lived to tell about it. A lot of Canadians live in Texas. We gave you NORAD. You gave us Justin Bieber and Celine Dion.

But the Canucks protect themselves from the Goliath to the south. While the Toronto Sun could, and did, buy The Houston Post, vice versa was not allowed by Canadian law. Nevertheless, the Canadian publishers were great people – loved sports and gin, not in that order. With that (excuse the cliché) 400-pound gorilla camped on their southern doorstep, and with a population a bit more than one-tenth that of the U.S., it’s easy to see why Canada wants to protect itself.

This subjugation to the British monarchy is not unusual. Two years ago the eastern Caribbean nation of St. Vincent and the Grenadines voted to remain under the rule of Queen Elizabeth II — they rejected a plan to replace her with a president chosen by Parliament. In one form or another, 15 former parts of the British Empire still pay homage to Her Majesty. She is still their monarch; her face is on their money. Some countries (Australia and New Zealand being the most prominent), use the Union Jack as part of their flag. These countries, or colonies, still have a governor general who is the Queen’s personal representative. It is usually a local loyalist, and the job is mostly ceremonial, but not totally.

Still, I’ve never understood some people’s fascination with the British royals, especially among Americans. Didn’t we fight a long and bloody war to toss out the Brits? However, historians estimate one-third of the Colonials were loyal to King George III and fled when the revolutionaries won. Where did they go? To Canada. Today the British, with their dry sense of humor, annually put up a small sign in their consulate in Houston: “Due to circumstances beyond our control, we will be closed July 4^th.”

Our Founding Fathers were so spooked by the British royalty that our Constitution strictly forbids royal titles and foreign awards were frowned upon. In the Boxer Rebellion, Marine legend Smedley Butler was wounded, but rescued a British soldier under fire. Butler was recommended for the Victoria Cross, Britain’s equivalent of the Medal of Honor, but in those days members of the U.S. military were not allowed to accept foreign decorations.

A few years ago when then-Duchess of York Sarah Ferguson visited Texas, reporters slavishly referred to “Fergie-mania.” Why? During the recent wedding of Prince William and Kate, who seem like nice folks, American reporters gushed over the couple, their lifestyle, what they were wearing, and I kept hearing, “Americans are fascinated by them.” And, “We’ve always had a love affair with the royals.” Maybe the TV types do. I don’t. Nothing personal, it’s just the contrast of all the gold and lace and servants running around, and then a few weeks later to see thousands of poor, out-of-work youths about the same age rioting for jobs and flat screens.

Still, most Brits have little trouble supporting the House of Windsor, to the tune of about $66 million in U.S. dollars each year. Forbes magazine estimated the Queen’s net worth at around $450 million US in 2010. Buckingham Palace says that’s “grossly overstated.” The recent royal wedding cost an estimated $163 million. If the Brits are happy being subjects of the crown, and paying the bills, that’s their business. I just wish they’d first paid us back for Lend Lease.

As for our good friends the Canadians, they are back in the royal fold, subject to being subjects. They have been good neighbors, ignoring the fact that we invaded them twice and tried to annex the place. And we can only wonder what Texas would be like today if the Spanish had conquered Canada while the Brits and French had landed at Vera Cruz.

We end with the story of a young man applying for a job at a large company. The CEO, who liked to do his own hiring, asked, “Where are you from, son?”

The young man replied, “Canada, sir.”

“Oh really? Why did you leave Canada?” asked the CEO.

The young man replied, “They’re all just loose women and hockey players up there.”

“My wife is from Canada.”

“Really? What team did she play for?”

 

Ashby rules at ashby2@comcast.net

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

GIVE ‘EM SMELL

 

THE TERRACE – A pleasant evening here at my lake house in Varicose Valley – the setting sun, the pink clouds, the boats on the water. OK, it’s 107 degrees, another record breaker, so I concentrate on the wildlife which is in abundance: deer, armadillos, possums, a fox or two, skunk, more deer, a…SKUNK!!

Gad. There it is, its black and white fur so fluffy and pretty, it would make a nice cap for Davy Crockett, but you don’t have to be a Crockett scientist to know it is definitely trouble. To paraphrase Gen. Philip Sheridan on Indians, the only good skunk is a dead skunk. I don’t want to kill it, just go away.

As I dash inside and slam the door, I contemplate my predicament. I could put up a sign with a picture of the animal with a big, red slash across it. Or hang out a banner: “This Is a Skunk-Free Zone.” I could call the Taste Police who terrify and intimidate Varicose Valley. For example, they demand I mow the grass, paint the outhouse and they say I can only have two cars up on blocks in my front yard. As with any living problem, be it killer rabbits, angry stockholders or the NRA, there is a protective group looking out for skunks. It is the Compassionate Action Institute, aka Tree Huggers. It proclaims, “Occasional skunk sightings in a neighborhood doesn’t necessarily mean there is a problem.” The organization recommends building a little one-way door over the skunk’s burrow so when it leaves, it can’t come home again. No doubt the next step is buying little cans of deodorant.    

What’s its natural enemy? Deer have wolves, antelope have lions, Obama has Boehner and Boehner has sunscreen. No dog is going to attack a skunk. No lion would, not if it wants to lie down with the lamb. Maybe porcupines. No one gets close to porcupines, anyway, so they could smell like a locker room at halftime and nobody would know.

There are rat catchers, pest controllers, poachers and termite eradicators. For enough money, you can hire people to knock off a business competitor or a cheating spouse. I look in the Yellow Pages under “Skunk Busters.” Nothing. Nor is there anything listed under “Busters, Skunks.”

In Texas we have high school teams named the Hutto Hippos and the Hamlin Pied Pipers, but no football team is called the Fightin’ Skunks, although the University of North Dakota is opposing an NCAA ruling that the school drop its nickname, the Sioux Warriors. Maybe they would settle for Skunk Warriors. What do you call a baby skunk? A kit. Or a group of them? Bees go in swarms, owls hang together in parliaments, goats go in trips and a group of skunks is called a surfeit. Actually, one skunk is surfeit.

It is now the next night. The deer and the antelope are playing. I’ve got the usual suspects in the yard, but no skunk. Maybe it had the night off. The Noble Brotherhood of Skunks Local 347 is on strike for a better reputation. Perhaps like toxic dumps, pirates and the Houston Astros, skunks are not really bad, only suffering from a bad press. That’s it. Like almost everyone else, when in trouble, blame the press. Works every time, as I was telling Newt.

Charles Darwin wrote in “Voyage of the Beagle,” “We saw also a couple of Zorrillos, or skunks — odious animals, which are far from uncommon.” Darwin went on to note: “Whatever is once polluted by it, is for ever useless.”

Right now a number of you are thinking, “I’d really like to have a pet skunk, if only I knew more about them.” As usual, I have done the heavy lifting for you. First and foremost, of course, we know the animal can fire off a really awful odor. Learned skunkologists – using their most scientific terminology — describe the smell as a combination of the odors of rotten eggs, garlic and burnt rubber.

Pepe Le Pew has muscles which allow him to squirt his stink up to 10 feet with great accuracy. The stench can be smelled as far as a mile away downwind. We have all been in a car merrily going down a highway when we suddenly inhale a waft of worst. That road kill was el skunko.

How you get rid of skunks? There is a product called Electronic Yard Repellent Pro which emits a high-pitched sound that deters skunks. However, it also keeps out deer, dogs, cats, rabbits, raccoons, opossums, armadillos, bats, rodents and Yankees. Ten out of 11 ain’t bad. Then there is Shake Away, a powder to repel only skunks. But how smelly does it have to be to repulse skunks? The cure could be worse than the curse.

How do you get rid of the skunk smell? We turn to the experts who opine: “The scent is persistent and difficult to remove. Diluted solutions of vinegar or tomato juice may be used to eliminate most of the odor from people, pets, or clothing.” Then we have happy ending: “These methods are not effective.”

What do skunks eat? Anything they want. Who’s going to stop them? Actually, they are omnivorous, eating both plant and animal material — insects, larvae, earthworms, small rodents, lizards, salamanders, frogs, snakes, birds, moles and eggs. Here’s something you might want to know before clearing out the old dog house for your new pet: The Centers for Disease Control recorded 1,494 cases of rabies in skunks in the U.S. in 2006. That’s about 21.5 percent of reported cases in all species. All of this moot anyway, for you pet lovers. It is illegal to keep a pet skunk in Texas, although I am told they are delicious.

An aside: Some of you may be familiar with the term, Skunk Works or Skonk Works. The works appeared in Al Capp’s cartoon strip, Li’l Abner, and were in a dilapidated factory that smelled terrible. Later, the name was given to a secret, unconvenetional program run by Lockheed Martin that developed the U-2, Blackbird, Nighthawk and several other cutting-edge aircraft. Today Skunk Works can apply to any maverick, usually secret, progam within a larger operation, run by screwballs, eccentrics and/or geniuses, like the Tea Party.

It is now the next night. There is the setting sun, the pink clouds, the boats, deer, armadillos, etc. What’s worse than a skunk in your yard? Two skunks. Where is Davy Crockett when you need him?

Ashby is fuzzy and adorable at ashby2@comcast.net

 

 

 

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