Mood:  spacey

EDITORIAL NOTE:  Evening past, Frodo spent considerable time and effort in the subject matter identified above,  Upon completion, he was informed that he had experienced a "Proxy Server Error."  To Frodo, this sounded something like Bill Clinton or Jeremiah Wright.  In any event, he attempted to copy his creation, but found that his out-of-date printer refused to function without the input of a new color cartridge.  Frodo then attempted to e-mail the creation to himself, allowing him to access the original once the surrogate or whatever was done making havoc.  In the end, he lost everything he had written to the mysterious ethernet.  This evening he will attempt to re-create his narrative and to ask someone wiser and more technically-proficient to explain to Frodo exactly what the computer geekies were trying to communicate with the phrase "proxy server error."

Frodo has a habit of opening packages, assembling parts, and ignoring instructions.  This is, he feels, in response to the dangling participles and double negatives which characterize any product outline manufactured by individuals seeking some form of retribution for the final outcome of the Second World War.  Upon receipt of his first telescope, Frodo also assumed that popping in a few lenses, attaching a viewing stand, and focusing on celestial objects was not really a series of daunting tasks.  Wisely, he decided to test his finished product on the largest and brightest of the heavenly bodies.

The Moon may shine brightest in Kentucky, but it is hard to miss almost anywhere in Middle Earth.  It did not take Frodo long to find that brightest of objects, and to bring a new level of clarity to its surface and his minds' eye.  What Frodo was not prepared for however, were the ridges running all over the lunar geography.  Not unlike the walls constructed along the Mexican border, Frodo found himself looking at distinct geographic subdivisions all over the face of the Man in the Moon.  In a frenzy, he sought out Sam and issued instructions to contact NASA.  

Sam was reluctant to act so precipitously.  Sam advised Frodo to go back, to check his degrees of latitude and longitude, or whatever, and to take a second look at his discovery.  Frodo took affront.  Reluctantly, he did as Sam suggested, and was again peering into the lens when Sam asked if he still saw the ridges on the face of the Moon.  Frodo said he did, but, he added, he also now had identified what appeared to be writing on one of the ridges.

"Writing!," exclaimed Sam.  "What kind of writing, is it something you can decipher?"

"Yes," said Frodo sheepishly, "it says 'Philadelphia Gas and Electric.'"

Sam smiled and returned to the supper dishes, while Frodo raised his lens ten degrees in order to observe the Moon itself, and to avoid the "proxy server error" which had drawn him to the streetlight.

Many years later and on this evening, Frodo has a new-and-improved telescope and comparatively vast experience in his celestial avocation.  Oftentimes Frodo has observed the North Star, Mars, Venus, and the Constelllation Orion.  Here, in the mountainous ridges above Lake Lovey, free of streetlights, Frodo is able to explore the Universe while contemplating the rate of dissolution experienced by ice in a variety of libations.  As he swung his "Bushnell" into action, he was startled to find a heretofore inexplicable void in the southwestern sky, just a few degrees above the horizon.  "Egad," said he, "Frodo has stumbled upon the first 'black hole' ever observed from a mountaintop in Tennessee."

Frodo learned a long time ago that Sam is not an acceptable documentarian for his scientific discoveries.  He grabbed his tall glass and took off afoot to the cabin around the bend, occupied by the recently retired professor from the university, appropriately dubbed "Doctor John."

"Forsooth," spake Frodo (Frodo has an Elizabethan tendency that exhibits itself as the ice melts), "Doctor John, come quickly, for Frodo has discovered something so magnificent in his telescope that considerable care will have to be given to an appropriate cognomen for that which he has just discovered."

"Oh," queried Doctor John, "and what is it that thou hadst brought forth from the unknown to share with all mankind this day, friend Frodo?"

"A black hole."

"A black hole say you," he marveled, "as in one of those objects through which gravity and light itself are unable to penetrate; where there is no intellectual life, not even any distinguishable microbic activity?"

"Aye, a black hole."

The conspirators raced back in Doctor John's personal golf cart (used in place of a motorcar whenever there is ice melting in any tall glass).  Doctor John placed his eyeball upon the lens, twisting it slightly to sharpen his view of the void.  Frodo danced from foot-to-foot as the academic "Hmmmed" and "Ahummed" for countless moments of examination.  Finally, he looked up, and spaked, er, spoke.

"Frodo, my friend, you have, as best I can determine this evening, documented your rather persistent assertion about an actual location in which there is no intelligent life."

"What?  What do you mean my 'persistent assertion'?  I've never seen anything like this before, and neither has anyone else around here."

"Frodo, you are on a high point, focused due south southwest, and you have an unobstructed view of the Great State of Texas."

"Texas?"

"Yes, the place you say harbors only those who absorb all light, and who produce nothing of value.  Actually, it is quite remarkable that you were able to view with such clarity that which emits very little worth noting."

"So my 'black hole' is Texas?"

"That would be my conclusion, yes."

"And you agree that Texas actually resembles a 'black hole'?"

"Oh indeed, and might I trouble you for an addition to our continuing analysis of ice dissolution?"

In his haste, Frodo accidentally spilled ice all over the deck.  "Well," he said, "at least I have solved my original conundrum this evening."

"Pardon?" said Doctor John.

"I just committed a 'Proxy Server Error'."

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:10 PM EDT

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Mood:  spacey

Frodo admits to the fact that sometimes (okay, all the time) he opens the package and sits the instructions aside.  Despite the fact that even laboratory rats learn from unfortunate experience, Frodo refuses to spend valuable time interpreting English written by someone with a revenge motive from the end result of the Second World War.  Such was the case when he obtained his first telescope.

"How hard can it be?," said Frodo.  "I mean, all you do is insert the lenses, mount the telescope on the stand, and point it in the right direction.  How hard can it be?"

That first night, Frodo wisely assessed that a large celestial object, in this case the Moon, would be easiest to find, and then to adjust all the focus.  Things seemed to be working on plan, but then Frodo was stunned to find grooves all over the Moon.  "I mean," he said, "I thought that the canals were supposed to be on Mars, but there were these walls, very similar to what's being built on the Mexican border, and they were everywhere.  I started for the portable telephone, and was looking up the telephone number for NASA when Sam suggested that I might want to look closer before enlisting the services of the federal government.

Reluctantly, Frodo returned to the telescope, moving it slightly to the right.  He screamed, "Sam, come look, there's writing."

"Writing?  What does it say?"

"It says 'Philadelphis Gas & Light.'"

The streetlight was, to Frodo's dismay, even brighter than the actual celestial object located about ten degrees above the observation point of his telescope.  Sam smiled at Frodo and assured him that the boys in Greenwich certainly made similar errors from time-to-time.

This amusing event is recalled because of Frodo's astronomical discovery this past evening.  Having learned the location of the Moon, the North Star, the Constellation 'Orion,' and occasionally the planets Mars and Venus, Frodo is much more scientific than in his youthful years.  Last evening however, Frodo was startled to find, for the first time, that his new-and-improved telescope had identified the first "black hole" ever visible to an observer based at Lake Lovey, in Tennessee.  This area of absolute nothingness was clearly defined in the southwestern sky, just a few degrees above the horizon.  Frodo took his time, and examined the entire perimeter until he was personally convinced that what he saw was absolutely devoid of life or any molecular substance.

Having learned his lesson that Sam tended to minimize the significance of his findings, Frodo called his friend "Doctor John," a retired professor from the University, and told him what he had discovered.  Thoroughly atwitter, and with a cocktail in hand, "Doctor John" hurried over to the deck outside Frodo's cabin and peered skyward through Frodo's telescope.  After several minures, he turned to Frodo and said, "Frodo, you have something here.  What we are looking at, as you have stated many times before, is a place where there is no intelligent life."

"What do you mean 'as I have stated many times before'?", queried Frodo.

"Frodo, my friend, from our elevated position, you have sighted the telescope directly on the State of Texas.  This 'finding' documents your continuing assertion that the entire area is a 'black hole,' devoid, as you allege, of any reason to ever go there."

Point, game, set.  Ain't science grand?  

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 1:45 PM EDT

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Mood:  down

Dana Something-or-Other, the current spokesperson, stood before the assembled gaggle and admitted that today would be a day that would not be politically advantageous for the Administration of the Incomparable Moron.  Somehow, she seemed to be saying, the "Mission Accomplished" banner, unfurled on the deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln, five years ago today, was actually created at the White House, but it had nothing to do with the theatrics in Iraq.  Rather, she averred, the banner was congratulatory to the ship's crew, given that their tour of duty was over, and they were on their way home. 

More than 3900 young men and women have come home since that day.  The President of the United States has not attended one single ceremony marking their homecoming.  He has not unfurled one single banner which reads "Mission Accomplished."  Frodo has to say that this is the single most bizarre, most disrespectful exhibition of human insensitivity which he has ever personally confronted.  Oh, believe dear reader, Frodo has seen evidence and read of unspeakable acts of cruelty, even in Middle Earth, of one living creature acting shamelessly to another, but never has there been a President of the United States who has choreographed these events as if they were political theatre. 

These young men and women deserve so much more.  The actions of this Incomparable Moron, Incomparable Moron says Frodo, must be chronicled, remembered, so that no one ever, ever, treats this sacrifice with so little respect. 

Frodo proposes that the First Day of May, celebrated by some as the advent of Spring and by others as a revolutionary political hoedown, be recognized as a National Holiday.  Let us dub this date as "Suffer We the Fools Day," in which we  come together and recognize all of the ingenuous stupidity which has haunted our common experience.

The picture of George W. Bush should adorn the commemorative postage stamp.  Along the top of the stamp should be the phrase "Suffer We the Fools," and in the respective bottom corners the words "Katrina" and "Iraq" can stand on their own, without further explanation.

Write your Congressman today.  Especially today.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:48 PM EDT

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Mood:  smelly

Frodo is the last Hobbit in all of Middle Earth to approach with any form of conspiracy theory.  He did not believe that there was a "vast right wing conspiracy," nor did he believe that that the University of Georgia deserved to be ranked "Number One" (certainly not in any academic realm) by the Bowl Selection Comiittee.  It was surprising to him however, when Samwise began to filibuster over the dinner table about the pecuniary future of one named Jeremiah Wright.

"You watch," said Sam, "sooner or later it is going to come out that some book publisher, or some-as-yet undisclosed major contributor to the Clinton Library is going to be found out as the money behind that old sleazeball."

Frodo sat in stunned silence as Sam continued the discourse.

"It would be just like them to have arranged for some major bucks to be paid to this supposed "Reverend" if he would derail Obama's chances at the nomination.  It is not fair," Sam articulated, "that such a good man would be pilloried by people who would do anything to get elected."

Frodo was totally unprepared for such a spin on something he had viewed from an entirely different perspective.  In truth, Frodo felt that here was an old guy, under personal assault, who was merely striking back by defending the kind of paranoid proposal which seem to characterize old people.  In fact, Obama himself had nearly said the same thing, when he talked about the "bitter" response of some people to their personal circumstances.  Sam was, however, putting forth the belief that this latter-day Judas had collected thirty pieces of silver.

Like, wow.

"Sam," asked Frodo, "what makes you think it was the Clintons, and not some newly-spun Karl Rove in the McCain camp?"

"That would come later if it was the Republicans," said Sam.  "They aren't organized enough yet, they're just letting the Democrats shoot themselves in both feet, and they'll jump in and use their money wisely once the shooting stops, if ever."

"Sam, it is a lot for me to digest," parried Frodo, "I'll have to think on this a bit."

NOTE:  Sam is white, under 60, makes more than $50K per year, and has a college degree; ergo, per all measures of statistical polling and media reporting, is thereby prevented from supporting Hillary Clinton.  Sam is also left-handed.

Left-handed people, as we all know, are trying to take over the world.     

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:15 PM EDT

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Mood:  lucky

Every once in a while, Frodo happens across someone who simply takes his breath away.  Not, he implores, in either a visceral or redemptive manner, but a simple soul who could have filled the role portrayed by Tom Hanks in the movie "Forrest Gump."  Frodo's friend John Jenkins, who died during the "ambushes" at Duc Lap in 1968, was such a man.  You know the type, dear reader, as honest as the day is long, hard-working, devoted to friends and family; a person who is too good for his own good, or so they say.  He whom Frodo has dubbed "St. George," of the "Men of Gondor" is such a person, and Frodo has asked for a few moments of your time merely to introduce you to a very good Man.

George first introduced himself as "actively retired," and that description fit perfectly.  Once an intercollegiate swimmer, he has stayed with the discipline and is today a frequent winner in "Senior Olympics" wherever they may be held.  He is a volunteer extraordinaire, devoting countless hours to the Salvation Army and other organizations who serve the homeless and the underprivileged.  Annually, he assists in the all-night effort to take an accurate census of the homeless in downtown Atlanta, a task which would daunt even the fearless Samwise.  He serves as the organizing center of the Men of Gondor.

Frodo first noted this good man as he spun the tale of his own father, who had to leave his employer due to illness, and was promptly cut-off from his health insurance.  St. George choked as he heard Frodo's voice break, and Frodo saw the sympathetic tear in the eye of one not known.  In the days and years to come, St. George would encourage Frodo to join with him in offering greater assistance to the less fortunate.  Eventually, Frodo and the rest of the Men of Gondor joined St. George in the annual ringing of the bell outside a Wal-Mart front door in the days before Christmas.  It remains the day that culminates the Holiday Season for Frodo.

"Honey" and Sam have never met.  Soldiers, it seems, are reluctant to cross bounds of loyalty with those of fidelity, no matter if they bear sword or the Cross of Jesus.  St. George is a quiet man, but with an engaging and winning smile.  There is no doubt that he acts sincerely, and respectfully.  Frodo has been very fortunate to have crossed this path.

Today, St. George, previously encumbered by a dragon it seems, called upon Frodo in dismay.  "Why, Sir Frodo, would you deem it best to forego our time together?  Have I done something to offend?"

Frodo felt that such a query would come, and for one such as St. George, there is no easy response.  He asked Frodo to consider staying with the Men of Gondor.  "Surely Frodo, you know that Sauron still bears the ring, and that those of us who would rend it from his grasp need to keep each other strong during this long endeavor."

Frodo promised to consider the plea of this good, good soul.  He is still weary, so weary, but Hobbits always listen to the entreaties of those who serve us all, and ask so very little in return.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:41 PM EDT

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Mood:  quizzical

James Michener, one of Frodo's favorite authors, first came to Frodo's attention when he wrote a book about the Hungarian Revolution in 1957.  The scrappy Hungarians tried to separate themselves from the Soviet Empire, and implored President Dwight Eisenhower and the American Government to aid them.  When that did not occur, the Hungarians eventually fell to the onslaught of tanks and superior manpower.  Although Frodo now looks back at those events in historical context, he had an entirely different point of view when he first read the Reader's Digest Condensed version of Michener's work.  In fact, every young boy he knew had a similar reaction.

The Soviets were so determined to find and to destroy the leaders of the Revolution, that they utilized specialized methods to encourage the flow of information.  It was written and reported by Michener that glass tubes were inserted into the opening of the penis of unfortunate prisoners, and the dangling organs were beaten until the glass tubes were all broken.  Young, developing, boys read this to each other all around the world, and Frodo was one of them.  The universal response was "Eeeyewww," accompanied by a shielding handclasp.

Frodo was today asked a hypothetical about torture.  He was asked what he would do if he could preserve, with dignity and happiness, all life on the small blue planet, if he merely would tolerate a single instance of torture against one small representative of one small species.  Frodo knew that the questioner was trying to elicit his acceptance of the "water boarding" that the Incomparable Moron seems to feel is a legitimate tool to be used in his War against unidentified combatants.  As tempting as such an offer is, Frodo could not bring himself to forget the glass tubes in those Hungarian boys.

Frodo once had a BB-Gun, and in his ardor, he began to pursue songbirds.  One day, he remembers firing and winging a dove in flight.  He pursued the wounded bird from yard-to-field, firing constantly.  At last he saw the bird fall just over a hillock, and he ran to the summit in order to view the carcass.  Instead, he found the bird of peace bleeding profusely from a hole in his throat.  Frodo cocked, and re-cocked, until he could put the creature out of its undeserved misery.  That, dear reader, happened decades ago, and the picture is still so vivid and the pumping blood so scarlet, that Frodo has, on innumerable nights, wakened amid his guilt.

Tolerate torture?  Frodo would never again have a night's sleep.  Nor could he even take a piss.  It really makes one wonder what it would take for George W. Bush to wake up, and not be able to go back to sleep.   

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 5:44 PM EDT

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Mood:  suave

When first the Kennedy Center opened for business, Frodo and Sam bought tickets; the year was 1975.  They saw Yul Brynner, James Earl Jones, Kevin Conway, Robert Horton, Rita Moreno, Cleavon Little, and, of course, Dame Margot Fonteyn and Rudolf Nureyev.  James Earl Jones starred in "Of Mice and Men," and Frodo will never forget the dozen or so "special people" who were uncharacteristically seated after the lights had gone down and the actors appeared on stage.  Some very special person had figured out that watching James Earl Jones play the part which he did would be very, very special for some special people.  Frodo and Sam cried together watching them watch, and listen, to a giant of a man, who sounded just like them, so very special. 

The next year was 1976, and everything at the Kennedy Center was programmed to celebrate the 200th Anniversary of the founding of the Republic.  Frankly, dear reader, in Frodo's opinion, the whole program sucked.  Frodo and Sam did not re-new their subscription, and they moved on to other forms of entertainment.

The story this night is of the Hobbit who found a special appreciation for ballet.  Long before the night with Fonteyn and Nureyev, Frodo was offered a choice by Rachel A. Ames, High-School English Teacher Extraordinaire.  He could write a 50-page paper on the "American Civilization," or he could attend the performance entitled "Stars of the Bolshoi Ballet," appearing at the Uline Arena in Washington, D.C.  The tickets were cheap, in those days, since Russians were not exactly looked upon favorably, and Frodo figured that two or three hours napping while a bunch of "June Taylor Dancers" made sugar-plums on stage was far better than nights of pounding on the Selectric.

Frodo will never forget noticing the knots of muscle on the calves of the men.  Then, when these characters went air-borne, three or more feet straight up into space, Frodo's mouth fell open, and he put aside all thoughts beyond pure admiration.  Following that, these incredibly gorgeous, and lithe, women came flying into the arms of the athletes already on-stage, and they never once broke into anything resembling perspiration.  It was a life-changing moment for Frodo, which he has considered, in many respects, whenever tempted to demean persons of whom he has no knowledge, much less introduction.

It was unsurprising that Frodo's palms were wet, and that even the prima ballerina by his side was an object of lesser attention when Nureyev and Fonteyn came on stage.  Fonteyn was in her 50's, and was far beyond her prime.  Although Frodo does not know for sure, it is possible that he and Sam saw her in one of her last performances on stage.  Nureyev looked as if he had just come from a photo shoot for GQ.  In Frodo's time on our small blue planet, he can safely say that Presley and Banderas are the only males who were ever more physically appealing than was the Russian on that night .  When the dancers were done, Frodo stood, and cheered, and applauded, and did so until no one else was left in the auditorium.

Being among the last to leave, Frodo and Sam sat at the end of the traffic line, and their eyes sparkled for each other, and for the beauty and grace of that night,  Then, on Sam's side of the car, Frodo saw him, walking from the Kennedy Center, to the Watergate, dressed in a leather suit, brown it was, and wearing a beret.  Nureyev, all alone, it was.  Frodo shook Sam and they stared at the maestro as his eyes caught theirs.  Frodo, not knowing what else to do or say, simply screamed "Tovarich, Dwo Svedanya."  Nureyev smiled, and did a full-arm wave to his American fans, and repeated the words to Frodo.

Frodo had heard Charles Bronson use the same phrase in "The Great Escape."   Frodo has had an affection for the best vodka, and lime juice, ever since.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:00 PM EDT

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Mood:  lazy

Chris Matthews, a long time ago, worked as a speechwriter for the 39th President of the United States.  During a period of economic downturn, when all of the news seemed bad, the President decided that he would go on nationwide television and talk to the American people.  His plan was to emit a sympathetic ear, and to commiserate from a philosophical point-of-view.  Matthews was not alone amongst the President's staff, in that he argued against calling the doldrums a "malaise," feeling that something inspirational would work much better.  Jimmy Carter did not take Matthews' advice.

Frodo was reminded of this story the other day when he heard Barack Obama being quoted about the "bitter" feelings which seemed to characterize voters in the Rust Belt primary states.  It seemed to Frodo that Obama was trying to be philosophical, and to explain his approach.  Hmmph, thought Frodo, "How much better off he would have been, if he had simply read his speech at the 2004 Democratic Party Convention, even if it had no relationship to the issues"  People, Frodo supposes, sometimes want inspiration, not sympathy.

Barack Obama has said, continually, that he would tell the people "not what they want to hear, but what they need to hear."  In his best Chris Matthews imitation, Frodo says, "Don't do it."

The Democratic Party process is addled, at best.  These stupid contests go on, ad infinitum, and it is conceivable that the kids will be back in school after summer vacation, and there still won't be a "presumptive" standard-bearer for the Democrats.  What's worse, George W. Bush will still be in office, which means that absolutely nothing will be accomplished, and the current economic downturn is fraught with heretofore unknown peril.  The boys will still be dying, for nothing, except, perhaps, for the fiscal coronation of Achmed Chalabi.  One of the Bush daughters will get married (Frodo believes her gown should be red),  and John McCain will also demonstrate to every voter able to read that he has absolutely no clue about anything.

Sometimes, dear reader, Frodo thinks that our only hope is that McCain gets pissed at some female reporter and punches her lights out.  Frodo suggests Campbell Brown.

"Perhaps," says Frodo, "we should simply call it 'Spring Fever,' since it seems to be affecting us all."  Rather than tuning in, turning on, and dropping out (remember that little bit of nostalgia, do ya?), although one of those sounds awfully tempting right about now, Frodo looks hopefully to Indiana and North Carolina, with a silent prayer that the voters there put us all out of our misery. 

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 11:07 PM EDT

Updated: Friday, April 25, 2008 11:09 PM EDT

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Mood:  not sure

More than ten years ago, Frodo received a telephone call in his office from an entrepreneur with an interesting idea.  The gentleman explained that he had developed a concept for working Hobbits who found themselves increasingly isolated from each other.  "After all," he said, "as we age, we spend more and more of our time at work, and what's left mostly goes to  our familial responsibilities."  "Any time beyond that," he offered, " which we call leisure, is usually somewhat solitary.  What we lose is the locker room.  We no longer interact as team-mates, because we outgrow our abilities and they morph into our responsibilities."

What he would do is to gather a group of 15 or so businessmen, generally entrepreneurs, business owners, professionals, with achievements and education, and set-up an introductory luncheon.  Prior to the luncheon, every participant would receive a briefing book on the other members of the group.  At the luncheon, each member would stand and introduce himself for 10 or so minutes, then make himself available for questions. 

After the meeting, he would arrange for a second meeting, and that would be the last that anyone would see of him.  At the second meeting, the group would begin to establish its own dynamics, and develop its own plan for future meetings.  As a general rule, meetings seemed to usually be scheduled once-a-month and in the beginnning would be discussions over lunch.  From there, the group was entirely on its own.

Frodo has discussed many meetings of what he dubbed "The Men of Gondor."  On two occasions Frodo has white-water-rafted the Chatuge River (remember "Deliverance"?, well that's it), he has visited tourist locations often overlooked by residents (the Cyclorama, the Carter Center, the Wren's Nest), and he has been introduced to the vocational expertise of other members (waste-water treatment, architectural design, theatre production).  Frodo tried foods he'd never considered (chicken feet, sushi), but mostly he listened.  He listened attentively as one spoke of an actual visit to the Olduvai Gorge, and another about the last hours on Earth of a life's love.  Together they all discussed the changes in their world after the collapse of the Twin Towers.  All of this coming from participants who shared no commonality, other than the fact that fellowship was something they had lost, somehow, somewhere along the way.

Today, Frodo announced that he would no longer attend the lunchtime gatherings on the second Friday of every month.  He indicated that his enthusiasm had simply waned.  That was partially true, for it grows increasingly difficult to maintain spontaneity when schedules and the unforeseen continually intrude.  Like most things in life however, there is an end, and recognizing it is what we all must do, or suffer in silence.  Frodo has genuine affection for "The Men of Gondor," and he will never be able to replay the experiences in total context.  He will try, from time-to-time, to tell you, dear reader, what it is like in the locker room, and why you miss it so much. 

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:48 PM EDT

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Mood:  loud

The price of gasoline, on the average, in America, has risen 16 cents in the past two weeks.  It is true that on the day that George W. Bush took office (even then Frodo was considering a run for the border), Frodo filled his motorcar and paid 75.9 cents per gallon to do so.  Returning last night from the Atlanta Aerodrome and Security Checkpoint, Frodo once again filled his motorcar and paid $4.349 for the honor.  On the face of it, the sheer dynamics of inflation and the resultant shift of economic power in the world is a problem.  There is however, to Frodo, an immense concern herein, and so in the words that follow dear reader, assume no satire, no humor, and, above all, no agenda.

The words "alternative energy sources," are as much a part of the English lexicon in the twenty-first century as are the words "weapons of mass destruction."  Everyone knows that it is imperative that the world must wean itself off its thirst for fossil fuels, if only to preserve a habitat for humankind.  The solutions proposed have included the purely ecological to the purely economic, and most fall somewhere in-between.  The production of ethanol from agricultural plant-life has been proposed many times, but has never been a rational part of the discussion because of the cost factors.  Today however, with the inflated prices commanded by energy demand, ethanol can be produced and sold at a profit in a competitive marketplace.  The economy can also be enhanced as greater dependence on ethanol requires both more fuel and vehicle suppliers.

The problem is very basic.  With an increasing amount of agricultural plant-life production diverted to a more profitable use, i.e. into ethanol, the availability of basic food products is lessened.  At the same time, the growing worldwide population continues to demand food, and the result is both a lesser availability and a higher cost for all food products.

Before moving into the point of this faustian dialogue, Frodo feels it important to share a couple of facts,  In the developed world today, approximately 10% of all household income is dedicated to the costs of food.  In the "undeveloped world," (perhaps what we once called the "Third World"), approximately 80% of all household income is dedicated to the costs of food.  In this statistic alone it is easy to see the potential impact for increasing food costs, and who it truly hurts, as opposed to whom it "inconveniences."  Lastly, 37 nations around the world are today classified as "in famine condition," because a majority of the population is not receiving a livable sustenance; 21 of these nations are on the African Continent.

The peons of Mexico overthrew Maximillian and Carlotta in order to re-distribute the wealth.  The peasants of France beheaded Louis and Marie because their cries for "bread" were satirically answered by references to "cake."  Starving Africans are not going to be swayed by the documented generosity of comparatively wealthy Americans who helped tsunami victims in Indonesia several years ago.  It is entirely conceivable that starving people will follow any ideology that provides for their families.  The suicide bombers of tomorrow may not even be Muslim, but they will have had their hunger sated by some who may be such.

The risk we run, dear reader, to erase 16 cents from the cost of a gallon of petrol, is the same once faced by Romans who stared into the eyes of Visigoths, and who felt that someone else's son would protect them.  Today, our politicians speak to the farmers, but not of food.  And they are fools.   The votes in Iowa are about life on Earth, they have absolutely nothing to do with purported sniper fire or silly old men who stand behind altars. 

Frodo has no more patience.  The battle is at hand.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:54 PM EDT

Updated: Sunday, April 20, 2008 8:59 PM EDT

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