Compact Pact

“Moammar!  Saddam!  So glad to see you made to Argentina and are doing well.”

“Yes, Mr. President.  We thank your government for providing safe passage all those years ago.  How are you?”

“Well, Saddam.  I could be better.  My daughters, you know, are a handful.  My wife, she’s always overspending our budget.”

“But do your political contributors not secretly deposit many sums of money into your reelection campaign that you will use for your retirement?”

“Of course, Moammar.  Look what they did for you.  Speaking of which, how much do you have in Argentinian bank accounts?  Do we need to increase our subsidies?”

“Haha!  Well, as you know, I have a few billion less than I would have liked, no thanks to your overzealous liberal types.  But enough for me and my extended family to live here for generations.  No reason to make it obvious that I am here.”

“The face surgery went well, I can see.”

“Yes, we kidnapped the best plastic surgeons money and bribery could buy.”

“Kidnapped?  Why did you do that?  I could have sent them down here on a humanitarian mission, and none would have been the wiser, you two being just another couple of humble, poor campesinos needing new identities because you ratted out corrupt South American politicians.”

“Sorry, Barack, old habits.  Your ways are foreign to our way of thinking.”

“Yes, Mr. President, now we will just say they came here for humanitarian purposes and died in an unfortunate battle between the government and Columbian revolutionaries.”

“And what were you going to say if I had not suggested the humanitarian line of reasoning?”

“That they, like one of your American politicians or many of your oversexed actors, came to Argentina to meet girlfriends and were killed by jealous lovers.”

“Uh-huh.  Very good.  Similar to the rumour mill stories that have followed my Secretary of State.”

“Is she as ruthless as they say?”

“Gentlemen, you will never know the true story.  Better that you are on her good side.”

“Mr. President, is there anything we can do for you while you are in our new country?”

“Well, I was wondering.  Are either one of you interested in running for political office?”

“Good question, Barack.  I have been bored all these many years, watching my poor, unprotected people of Iraq suffer the sectarian violence that I was able to prevent with my strong but necessary fatherlike approach.  Many part of Argentina could use a wise, guiding hand like mine.”

“Do you want to control a region of the country or the whole thing?”

“I haven’t made up my mind.”

“Tell you what.  I’ll have my staff work up several background stories for you and you decide which one you feel most comfortable taking on.  Then, we can work out the details of your political ambitions down here.”

“Barack, you are good man, despite what they sometimes say about you in the press.”

“Saddam, it is in my best interest to keep the people happily governed.  Together with you two, we will make this planet great again.”

“Again?”

“Oh well, a slip of the tongue.”

“Mr. President, is it just me or did I just see you blink a second and third set of eyelids?”

“Moammar, we need to talk.  From what I was told, your plastic surgery did not go as planned.  Have you been feeling dizzy lately or hearing strange voices?”

“Now that you mention it, it does seem as if I pick up noises of things and people I do not see.”

“Barack, I have tried to tell him he is joining a group of people who have…how do you put it, new powers?”

“Saddam, we don’t like to use words like ‘power,’ ‘ESP,’ or other new-age terminology to describe our extended body functions.  It gives the wrong impression.”

“But the effect is just the same.”

“Let me finish my conversation with Moammar alone so he will not be confused about what we expect of our reengineered and repatriated compatriots.”

“As you wish.  I’ll go over the information your staff gives me and contact you when…”

“Don’t contact me.  I’ll contact you through the appropriate channels when the time is right.”

“Hey, you’re the new sheriff in town.  My services are at your disposal.”

“No, we all serve a higher purpose.  Remember?”

“But, of course.”

“Well, men, I’ve got to go.  H.W. and I have a private meeting with the rejuvenated Castro.”

“I hear Jimmy is joining you on this one.”

“Yes, he’s taking a private jet to meet us for what he’ll say is a fundraiser for his habitat projects around the world.”

“Before you go, I propose a toast.  To the continued well-being of the Old Gentlemen’s Club!”

“Cheers!”

Sláinte!”

Does clothes dryer exhaust reveal the detergent you use?

By assuming the background of this canvas is the subculture in which I live/work, I present to readers, through their interpretive experiences or experiential interpretations, the idea that this background is an acceptable form of living.

Indeed, it is.

I can get in my car, waste petrol to drive 1 mile, walk into the big box store to buy replacement halogen T-bulbs so my wife can continue her scrapbooking after I return home and replace the burned out lightbulb in the back bedroom/scrapbooking supply room, grab a George Killian’s Irish Red beer, go back to typing and keep track of Bristol racing and NCAA hooping at the same time.

If I want.

When was the last time you played cricket?

Do you have the power to create thunderstorms and waves of lightning where it is seemingly impossible?

Do you keep a salt lick in the backyard in case your freezer supply is running short and you need some more wild game meat?

Have you ever wrestled and killed a whitetail deer with your bare hands?

As a vegetarian, do you know how many animals you’ve killed with your vehicle or by vehicles driven by people who support your lifestyle?  What did you and/or them do with the animals/meat?

Trying to get outside this set of states of energy to create originality is going to keep me fully occupied the rest of my life.

A nod to the guy with the Lockheed-Martin hat – I read your thoughts and they were very interesting.  I assume your poker playing days are over and the mask has been put away.

My roving eyes are on the move.

Time to figure out which set of emperour’s clothes to write about.

When you know the plans you’re developing/implementing involve something vaster than and outside the realm of influence of your solar system, what does any one of us matter anymore?

I recommend you no longer read this blog, if you exist at all.

What I’m going to type about next might make your ordinary plans far less interesting than they might have been had you given them any thought.

As far as the reason for enforcing the no-fly zone?  Well, the atrocities committed by Qaddafi’s family in the name of their personal megalomaniacal entertainment will be sufficiently documented in their spectacular trials before the court of the people by the people and for the people.

That’s the way it’s been and going to be.

Somebody’s always finding a way to revive the Spanish Inquisition.

Morality plays draw the biggest audiences, especially when we find ways to make them personal for everyone.  Were you associated with the Qaddafi family and if so, how much?

Do they still tie handkerchiefs over faces facing firing squads?

Cue the dramatic music and teaser trailer for the upcoming persecution of corrupt members of the old Libyan regime.

I’ve ordered my front-row seat.  Better hurry, executioners are promising a lot of screams and pleas for mercy.

Aah, repetition.  Pro-government forces out of favour once again.

Is a rope too good for Qaddafi?  I don’t see him (or his body double) hiding in an underground bunker.

You know that Hillary doesn’t negotiate, don’t you?

I hear they’re creating a new torture chamber – keel-hauling over razorbacks, it’s called.

Women in power – I told you 2010 was a good year for them.  Now they’re exercising their right to excise.

And you thought your government’s debt was going to be the death of you!

Merkel, you get a back row seat this time.  You had your chance and you blew it with Olde World diplomacy.

Survivor: Real-Life Classroom

From my folks, both educators:

Have you heard about the next planned “Survivor” show?

Three businessmen and three businesswomen will be dropped in an elementary school classroom for 1 school year.

Every business person will be provided with a copy of his/her school district’s curriculum, and a class of 20-25 students.

Every class will have a minimum of five learning-disabled children, three with A.D.H.D., one gifted child, and two who speak limited English. Three students will be labeled with severe behavior problems.

Every business person must complete lesson plans at least 3 days in advance, with annotations for curriculum objectives and modify, organize, or create their materials accordingly. They will be required to teach students, handle misconduct, implement technology, document attendance, write referrals, correct homework, make bulletin boards, compute grades, complete report cards, document benchmarks, communicate with parents, and arrange parent conferences. They must also stand in their doorway between class changes to monitor the hallways.

In addition, they will complete fire drills, tornado drills, and [Code Red] drills for shooting attacks each month.

They must attend workshops, faculty meetings, and attend curriculum development meetings. They must also tutor students who are behind and strive to get their 2 non-English speaking children proficient enough to take the State Mandated Tests.  If they are sick or having a bad day they must not let it show.

Every day they must incorporate reading, writing, math, science, and social studies into the program. They must maintain discipline and provide an educationally stimulating environment to motivate students at all times.  If all students do not wish to cooperate, work, or learn, the teacher will be held responsible.

If not involved in extracurricular activities with the students (out-of-town sporting events, math tournaments, spelling bees, etc.), the business people will only have access to the public golf course on the weekends, but with their new salary, they will not be able to afford it.  There will be no access to vendors who want to take them out to lunch, and lunch will be limited to thirty minutes, which is not counted as part of their work day.  The business people will be permitted to use a student restroom, as long as another survival candidate can supervise their class.

If the copier is operable, they may make copies of necessary materials before, or after, school. However, they cannot surpass their monthly limit of copies.  The business people must continually advance their education, at their expense, and on their own time.

The winner of this Season of Survivor will be allowed to return to his/her job.

FINIS

You Can Run But You Can’t Hide Your Running Hose

This time of year, at least in this part of the country, nasal/chest congestion complaints fill the air.

So, with that in mind, I’m moving my imaginary international troops into Libya and declaring a global free-trade zone; also, sending UN troops to Bahrain to protect against invading Saudi forces.

Oh wait.  I’m sorry, skip that last part.  I forgot I eliminated political borders in this realm.  Everything goes, doesn’t it?

Let’s fight Saudi forces with U.S. forces and pit American fighting weaponry against itself.  I’m sure the Iranian leaders would love to see that!  I’d love to see it spill over into Iranian airspace, a simple excuse for taking care of paramilitary cyberwarriors hiding behind computer screens.

Are we a behind-the-times species acting like it’s still a few packs of primates running from large predators?

My network demonstrated its power in Chile, China, New Zealand, and Japan.  Time to stir up the sands of the Middle East and show how fleeting oil power really is, isn’t it?  One scientist suggested twisting the magnetic poles out of shape a little faster, breaking apart the mantle and sucking raw oil reserves down into the core.

Is there not another planet to play with?  Is Carlos Slim the best the world has to offer?

This, there, another.

Word trails trailing off into infinity…

Infernal internal combustion engines.

The shadow of a car making an outline of the Penn State Litany Nylon logo.

A mother in-law needing emotional support more than a cat needs dental work.

Ants roaming the house while the yard gets soaked with rain.

Giving over to randomness to prove that randomness is the variation in predictable patterns.

Watching family members insist the mother/grandmother must give up her way of life for their love and support (and their convenience, coincidentally), not the other way around.

Hearing so many others in nursing homes tell the same story – “my [family relation] felt it was in my best interest to move closer to him/her.”

I want to die where I was most comfortable, not where it was convenient for those taking care of me who’ll end up inevitably extending my life in strange surroundings which I’ll never enjoy as much as I enjoyed my comfort zone.  Do us both a favour – put me in a wheelchair and push me into the woods behind my house on a cold winter’s night, with a beer in one hand and a tall glass of whiskey in the other.

Bumper sticker on Honda CR-V near Alabama A&M campus – “My karma ran over your dogma.”

I can’t imagine having to worry about a slow decline or sudden weakness in my old age and afraid to tell my family relations I don’t feel well, knowing they’re just waiting for an excuse to move me to their comfort zone, thinking little of what “home” means to me, not them.

I gave in to temptation today.  Yes, my flesh is weak.  I bought my wife and me six, count them, SIX cupcakes decorated in green and white for St. Patrick’s Day, courtesy of Publix and David (customer service team leader) and Nathan, bagger supreme.

During a walk up and down the street, I played chase with a neighbour’s little boxer puppy and had fun like a kid again.

Do you manage the IT department of your company?  If so, do you read or have an employee read/scan the emails of employees/executives for company security purposes?  Do you archive IM sessions and SMS text messages sent from company smartphones?  Do you monitor IP traffic passing through the airwaves of company property?  Do you use GPS trackers in company cars and company credit cards?  Are you part of a larger network paid to keep tabs on specific individuals for a purpose that may or may not coincide with company policy?  Do you secretly pay car rental companies to provide tracking data and private investigators, when off-the-books recordkeeping is absolutely necessary?

Thank goodness, no one wants to keep me alive for his/her sake, except my wife, of course, most days, anyway. 😉

Otherwise, as my sister says, it’ll just be a matter of managing my monetary resources to stretch them as much as possible to provide me the comfort and care that is as humane as I would choose to treat my aging pets.

Vanna, I’m glad you still have that smile.

Claire, sorry to hear about your transportation vehicle.

Holding seven billion people and the supporting global ecosystem in my hand, I ask myself what tearing down and rebuilding the system to my specifications (with guidance by the Committee, as always) will bring to future generations unaware of invisible hands directing their ancestors’ actions.

Thank goodness, I’m not the only one.

It’s all about the paradigm of the network in today’s pallid parlour parleying parlance.

If you can’t harness the Sun, then grab le règne by the horns.

My worst torture – being the eldest male at a funeral and filling up my thoughts with more and more new comedy sketches about the dead but mentally shutting down and going into automaton mode while having to play the part of the serious wise elder, not the wise guy.

Celebrate living by having fun – there’s plenty of time to be dead serious.

Most of us grew up some place we call local and probably “home.”  Don’t feel sorry for everyone else – just treat them like good family members, with a little love and gentle humour to help lighten the burden of daily living.

Besides, Earth is home to all of us, no matter how we treat it or each other.

Hard to believe the Bristol race track is as old as I am.  My father says he took me not long after I was born so the speedway is just about my oldest memory other than my parents’ loving faces.  Let’s go racing, shall we?

Glad the Kingsport track is running.

Time to put Claire Lynch back on my Internet tunes and swing to her sweet bluegrass voice.

2011 is not the worst year in my life (or my species) but it sure is a big one.  Good thing I know all about the big picture and the circles, cycles and spirals that make everything new all over again.

Ear Mail :)

Happy 2nd Anniversary, The Melting Pot of Huntsville!

A nod to Stephen Wysock at Aviagen – may you have another 10 great years with the company.  Happy Birthday to your better half today.

Tonight, while enjoying the company of our server, Malarie (no, not malady or malaria, but named after the character on “Family Ties“), my wife and I observed the goings-on at the Melting Pot.

Friendly workers, seemingly happy.

The owner, Steve Hagins, and his son David in MBWA mode.

Steve’s proud (but not biased, of course) about his son’s second sense when it comes to customer service, able to detect a problem before it’s a problem and find a solution before his father knows there’s a problem.

Steve is well on his way toward handing the business over to his son in the next few years, allowing himself to take a long-term break, if not retire completely.

We remember the opening two years ago.

So does Steve.

After 19 months in preparation, working something like 125 days in a row, Steve was in automatic mode as the Melting Pot was set to open.

Realising his father was near a breaking point, David recommended he take a couple of days off.

And collapse he did.

We’ve all been there, Steve.  We rarely know when we need rejuvenation until someone near and dear points it out.

We’ll be back at the Melting Pot because you put customer Numero Uno.

Speaking of customer service, I am focusing on helping another friend, Gary Shelton, and the product invention he shares with Joe McGinty over at Invetex.  If you’re in the computer rack business and want a little extra security and peace of mind for your customers, give Invetex a look-see.  An ounce of prevention is worth more than a pound of gold where data and cash flow is concerned.

It’s time for our annual support of UCP during An Irish Evening, hosted at the new Jackson Center.  We’ll bid on some Irish gifts to share with our nephew, Jonathan, and his lovely new fiancée, Tammy, who’re planning an Irish-themed wedding soon.

‘Twill be a chilly evening tonight and I ran out of birdseed earlier this week, a mass of sparrows taking over the birdfeeders and cleaning me out.  Maybe the raccoon in the attic won’t wake me up in the wee hours of the morning.

But Merlin will be at home tomorrow and the missus and I will have our two feline frolickers back under one roof again.

While the French (the French?) want to bomb Libya and the Germans (the Germans?) want to wait, there’ll peace in this household on the weekend.

Somebody tell that loudmouth at the New York Times to shut his trap so we can spread the love of franchising all over the world.

The new liberal way is to make everyone rich enough we can afford to fund our own social services or cause célèbre – no more depending on government assistance for the underprivileged, only for the companies in power, of course.

Obama tricked everyone (or was he tricked?) – now that he’s a millionaire, he’s a Republican wolf in Democratic sheep’s clothing like all the others on the list of “I’m wealthy and I’m not giving up my hard-earned cash” adherents to Reaganite Randianism – the whole healthcare/welfare thing was a typical politician’s ruse until the purse was full.

And I wonder why my presidential vote is counted but never counts…

Someone suggested we bomb an airliner over Libya and call it Lockerbie’s Revenge – be careful what you wish for ’cause I guarantee your wish will be what you want and not what you need.

If only I could tell you what you don’t really know…

The usual suspects in the lineup.

But we can still break free.

Wild beyond our wealthiest dreams!

The Bloody Rain Reigned

Qu’est-ce que c’est, pietism, s’il vous plaît?

Il est guerre, n’est pas?

Correct spelling aside, Queen Margot lived a long time ago and violent uprisings still rule.

Seven billion strong – you will see.

I rule this alternate universe of a blog…now and forever…

Or until it’s time to share or abdicate.

The will of the people will.

Rule the rulers.

Ecoutez bien!