Mood:  crushed out

There are thunder boomlets casting an apparition of cannons on all sides, volleyed and thundered.  Frodo's mind is eased this night by an image of humanity which requires a few well-chosen words even with the threat of technical disruption close at hand.  Frodo has now learned the name of President Obama's Personal Secretary, and he has accepted the fact that the President's Chief of Staff does, indeed, have a heart to counter his legendary efficiency.

Frodo was prophetic when he averred that it would be he who would walk Bo when all others were abed, and words could be shared without fear of retribution.  What startled Frodo was to hear the President say that he maintains humility by picking up his partner's poop, there, in the glare of the most famous house in all the land.  Frodo always assumed that was the job of the Secret Service.

Despite our toil and our travail in these troubled times, Frodo's heart dances with anticipation, knowing that on the morrow words will echo into distant lands about a world offering opportunity and possibilities. 

Maybe we should all carry an extra bag or two with us when we go for walks?   

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:57 PM EDT

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Mood:  irritated

If he were to spend enough time on it, Frodo is sure that he could come up with several dozen quotes about New York City and the symbolic meaning of its recovery.  Many of those quotes would be from Republican politicians who remarked about the need for Americans to "go shopping," and to "show the rest of the world" that "America is still open for business."  Much of that, of course, emanated from a White House where the-then President would later be recognized for his long absences from the office on vacation, and as a notorious early-to-bed kind of guy.  This train of thought follows from the criticism levelled at President and Mrs. Obama by the Republican National Committee for their "night on the town." 

George W. Bush spent the entire preceding month in Crawford while Osama bin Laden and company put the finishing touches on their assault on civilization.  The Republican National Committee defended the President.

George W. Bush observed the flooding of New Orleans from the air as a consequence of his return from another vacation of an entire month in Crawford.  The Republican National Committee defended the President.

George W. Bush was sound asleep by 9 P.M. nightly, even while cargo planes returned to Dover AFB with the remains of American military personnel without the courtesy of participation by senior White House staff.  The Republican National Committee defended the President.

George W. Bush devoted two hours of every workday to his personal exercise regimen, including bicycle rides in competition with Secret Service Agents.  The Republican National Committee defended the President.

It can, in Frodo's opinion, legitimately be argued that no President ever took more time off from his elected responsibilities than did George W. Bush, and the resultant expenses for transportation, communication, and protection absolutely dwarf what had ever been spent before in this regard for any President.  The Republican National Committee defended the President.

Whose side are these guys on?

Frodo is not going to spend one second justifying the use of a government airplane for a flight to NYC from Washington.  AMTRAK, it seems, apparently works quite well for Joe Biden.  However, using the same logic proffered by the Republican National Committee in defense of the Incomparable Moron, doesn't it seem like a good idea for the President and the First lady to "go shopping," and to show "the rest of the world" that tourists and businessmen alike can come back to America, safely?

Is it a requirement that in order to become a member of the Republican National Committee that one must first be certified as a totally partisan moron?     

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 11:26 AM EDT

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Mood:  not sure

During a recent argument with Bilbo, Frodo offered the trusim that he had been raised to see the good side in others.  Frodo said that he was grateful for such an orientation, and, although respectful, he felt that those who suspect everyone else of being some sort of criminal are very sad people.  Frodo truly believes what he has said, however there are instances that give him pause.

At 11:30 PM one recent evening, a lady who jointly-owned a local bar was out for a jog not too far from the Shire.  Alongside arrives a gentleman who just happened to be a frequent customer of the bar, and he offers the (for the purposes of orientation, let us refer to the individual as a "jugger") lady a ride in his motorcar.  He even, reportedly, suggested that she get in the motorcar for the simple purpose of touching the "rich Corinthian leather."  Once the jugger settled herself into the motorcar, the gratuitous patron of the bar subdued her and drove two-and-a-half hours to a rental chalet near the mountain resort of Dollywood.

The chalet property manager reported that the renter appeared perfectly normal, and gave him no reason to question the legitimacy of the transaction.  According to the jugger, she was taken, by force, into the chalet, bound, gagged, and raped, twice, by her assailant.  The encounter evidently fueled more than the lusty hunger of the rapist, because he then felt the need to order a pizza, which he did, by credit card, and he wanted it delivered. 

When the pizza delivery guy arrived, within the 30-minute guarantee, he noticed the bound jugger trying to get his attention, while the assailant toyed with the credit card receipt.  Eventually this mental giant must have figured that there might be something fishy about a woman bound-and-gagged as a large consumable pepperoni pizza was being placed before her.  As he departed the scene, the pizza delivery guy stopped by the office of the chalet property manager, and voiced his concern.

Once the local gendarmerie arrived, their first query was to the gentleman calmly devouring the pizza while his house guest, the jugger, was placed inside the policeman's motorcar.  The assailant explained that both he and the jugger were married to other people, and that they were together in a secret soiree.  He explained the binding and the gag as part of the festivities, in fact, even suggested by the jugger.

The jugger had a very different explanation of the circumstances, so the assailant was informed of his rights, and was unceremoniously taken to the local pokey.  The pizza delivery guy appears now as the latest hero of the blogosphere, and despite his apparent inability to comprehend the sign language of a bound-and-gagged customer, will probably be Conan O'Brien's first guest on the Tonight Show (starring Conan O'Brien).

Frodo smells a whole woodpile full of rat poop.

Frodo remembers being in a lot of bars around 11:30, PM, but he can't seem to recall a single instance when one of the saloon-keepers took off on a run around the block while customers had whistles that needed wetting.  Also curious it is that a customer of the bar just happened to be driving by, and that he was able to convince the jugger to terminate her exercise regimen, and to examine the interior of his motorcar, certainly somewhat contrary to the teachings of the juggers's mother in earlier times.  Strange also is the fact that the two travel two-and-a-half hours to a mountain chalet that just happened to have a vacancy, although Frodo does have to admit that he is not sure if a hot tub was available in the subject rental.  

Finally, Frodo wonders why an assailant, unless he happened to be from Texas, which would therefore explain everything stupid, would use a credit card for both the chalet rental and the pepperoni pizza?  Doesn't it seem likely that he would've seen at least one episode of "Law and Order: Criminal Intent," and by sheer osmosis have learned that cash and gloves are required tools for anyone conspiring to violate Section 911 of the Penal Code?

Ah, but Frodo always looks for the good in his fellow inhabitants of Middle Earth, doesn't he?

Ever wonder if Dick Cheney has a taste for pepperoni? 

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:21 PM EDT

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Mood:  lucky

It is no secret that a mind-numbing drought has strangled the Shire for several years.  Frodo has been unable to even wash his prized motorcar, although a commercial establishment utilizing recycled water has served its purpose throughout.  For the sake of some ill-definable logic, the water restrictions remain even though an almost daily deluge has brought lake levels far beyond capacity.  It will be, according to the "water police," sometime in September before an assessment will be forthcoming.  Given that as a preamble, it is hereby noted that the Hobbit is conspiring to evade the law, and that he will not contest enforcement (that is, if they catch him).  After all, our forefathers charged all of us to "alter or abolish" if restrictions on freedom become too onerous.

The constant precipitation has given rise to a number of long-forgotten opponents in the Gardens of the Shire.  Fungus is present on anything spelled euonymous, and a water-driven plague has befallen Frodo's giant-sized photinia.  Worst of all however, in these days preceding the arrival of tiger mosquitos, are the weeds which are everywhere, in almost every conceivable size, shape, and depth of root system.  Amid the newly-seeded wildflower islands, unplanned stickers and suckers attach themselves to every brush of a pant leg or furry paw.  Frodo is unable to yet determine if some of these brigands might actually have flowers in their future, so he is ignoring these until clarity arrives.  Mick, the Wonder Dog, is not amused.

Frodo has a small-wheeled stool, which doubles as a storage compartment for small garden tools.  He uses this contraption as a seat while he pushes himself along the floral borders, thereby doing less damage to creaky jointed anatomical features.  It gets amusing when he fails to note the downhill slant of the land whilst he concentrates on the botanical foes at hand.  Snickers are heard from adjoining lands in Middle Earth, as Frodo bounces, unceremoniously, as if he were jolly Merry, trying to find comfort in a low-slung motorcar, succeeding only in dusting her butt.

The ergonomic success of the Gardens of the Shire is a direct result of the forced removal of that which is conventionally known as grass.  Frodo tried Bermuda, Centipede, Blue Grass, Zoysia, and countless less-exotic varieties in years past, all in the futile effort to make things, well, conventional.  It was a continuing, and expensive, set of disappointments.  There does remain however, one small plot of grass in Frodo's front yard, between the islands, and today, even that small monument to suburban manic behavior has green grass maturing so fast that its growth is visible to the naked eye, or so it seems. 

Fellows of the Ring have wondered about the vast space between postings by the Hobbit.  They need look no further than the jungles about the Mayan temples at Tulum and Chichen Itza, and similar fate apparently threatening Frodo and Sam .  If Frodo is silent on the morrow, he has requested that rescue dogs be called to action in his behalf.  Christian Brothers brandy would be a nice touch, in those little kegs, you know.

Frodo does have one task tomorrow, and it will involve the gathering of a few wildflowers to be placed on the small, but deep, grave, now-filled, at the residence of Tom Bombadil.  Brandy will follow.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:56 PM EDT

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Mood:  hug me

Some of the following, for some, will be somehat familiar, but all need to know that Tom Bombadil is a good man.  It was on a drive to the coast that the half-beagle, half-dachshund was discovered in the median of the endless highway.  Infested with ticks, and suffering a deformed foot, the less obvious heartworms were potentially fatal.  It was a kind act of generosity that this big and gentle man picked up the small dog, and brought her home from the road to Savannah.

Savannah prospered as the years passed, alongside her ancient friend named Canaan, and she grew especially fond of Fiona, her next-door neighbor in the Shire.  Just when it seemed that all her troubles where behind her, Savannah awoke one morning, and was unable to walk.  Tom Bombadil learned that this affliction is not uncommon in the long and low, and that, over time, it might heal itself.  In the interim, he had a small chariot fashioned for the queen, who adapted to the refreshed mobility with vigor.  So much so that Tom Bombadil often found her hundreds of yards away in the playground in the School of the Shire, visiting with the curious.  Tom Bombadil noted that many of the concerned and curious were, pardon the expression, "babes," and a new symbiosis was discovered for the formerly-married Tom Bombadil.

Tom Bombadil was suffering financial setbacks which have continued to this very moment.  He never, ever, let that detract from his concern on behalf of Savannah.  With Sam's counsel, he sought the advice of an acupuncturist, and took Savannah in for treatment with regularity.  Over time, the treatments proved helpful.  However, unfortunately, the muscles had atrophied so greatly that she simply lacked the muscular structure to return to normalcy.  As more time passed, Savannah took it all in stride, since she had learned to perform "wheelies," and had climbed Kennesaw Mountain, with only minor assistance.  Tom Bombadil learned to carry her outside whenever nature called, and to assist her in the disposition of waste.  Again, it seemed as if her distress was at an end.

Cancer is as threatening to the canine as it is to the Hobbit.  Tumors became as obvious beneath the skin, as did those which pushed outward and ruptured.  The veterinarian told Tom Bombadil that he now estimated her to be "just about 19 years old."  Despite the magnitude, it also meant that further treatment was beyond the call to good judgment.

Sam was distraught.  Savannah had a special place in her heart for anyone who would deliver cookies on command, like Sam.  Sam thought it especially cruel that such a good and loving owner would be coming home to an empty house, amid the distress of mortgage payments lagging behind and multiple jobs offering little assistance.   

Tom Bombadil sought advice from Frodo.  Frodo, experienced in such matters, told him that a good, deep grave would be therapeutic, as if it were one more gift he could offer to his companion, and helped Tom select a spot near the flowers surrounding the bird bath.  Frodo noted, yesterday, that Tom started to dig, although it had been Frodo's intent that Tom do so afterwards, rather than in preparation.

Today was the topical.  Frodo came home, and Sam stood with him as they peered across the fence.  The mound of dirt was still there, and the grave was empty.  Tom was nowhere to be seen.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:53 PM EDT

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Mood:  spacey

In the days before the 1996 Olympic Summer Games in Atlanta, there was a substantial effort by the city fathers to at least appear prepared for the onslaught of visitors from around the world.  Frodo knew that, in the end, something would happen to portray the local populace as rubes.  Not least of these was the telephone call received in the domestic call center from a gentleman in New Mexico who wished to purchase tickets for the track & field events.  The customer service personage was polite, but forceful, directing the caller back to the international call center, since he was calling from a foreign country, New Mexico.  We all know exactly how foreign New Mexico is to anyone from Georgia.

Frodo is relieved to report that his residence in the Shire has now been outdone by residents in the great State of Utah.  It happened just the other day when Craig Jessop, Principal of Rocky Mountain Junior High School in West Haven, sent young Gavin McFarland, age 14, home early.  Principal Jessop it seemed, was concerned about the kilt that Master McFarland had worn, two days in a row, as a prop for an art project.  Principal Jessop felt that his clothing could be misconstrued as "cross-dressing."

Frodo watched "Braveheart" again the other night, and he can attest to the fact that Mel Gibson demonstrated to all the world, except perhaps West Haven Utah, that Scots definitely had balls.  Frodo wonders if Principal Jessop's career before school administration was with Ticketron?  Surely there can't be two people ifrom the greatest country in the history of Man to actually be so damn dumb (Persons representing minority party status excepted, of course)?

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:16 PM EDT

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Mood:  bright

Frodo has previously written about recurrent dreams from his days at the College of the Shire.  Without explanation, he may still awaken convinced that he is three credits short of graduation.  It is rare however that Frodo determines to take pen in hand (or keyboard en lap) in order to communicate something important as if he were an academician-in-training.  He has felt that way ever since he finished reading "Charlie Wilson's War" by George Crile, then watched the movie by the same title, starring Tom Hanks, Julia Roberts, and the incredibly talented Philip Seymour Hoffman.  Add in the Diaspora of Nancy Pelosi, and Frodo feels that he must structure a few syllables in order to put some perspective on the stumbling Speaker of the House of Representatives.

"Charlie Wilson's War" is a book that should indeed be read by everyone.  Unfortunately, George W. Bush will be among the most prominent of those unable to find time to assimilate the factual presentation of how the United States came to provide the means for the mujahideen to defeat the Soviet Army and to set the stage for our present unpleasantness following in their footsteps.  Throughout his reading, Frodo was struck by the precision shown by the author as he defined the relationship between the elected officials, usually former Rep Charles Wilson (D-TX), and the federal employess (usually from the Clandestine Services of the CIA).

The relationship between the Members of Congress and CIA employees has a sharp surge of relevance due to the cross-hairs fixed on Ms. Pelosi, and her own feeble attempts to put things into context.   In the book it is clearly and definitively established that the "briefings" provided to Members of Congress are far afield from what most people seem to think.  For the most part, the briefings are "one-on-one" and differ in both tone and content, depending on who does the briefing, and who is being briefed.  Charlie Wilson, for example, built a relationship of trust with the CIA employee giving him a briefing, and the CIA employee (Gust Avrakotos, in real life) found himself dealing with a Congressional benefactor who was not only knowledgeable about Afghanistan, but was serious about doing something important.  These two guys went toe-to-toe, nose-to-nose, on specific points, and the briefings must have been amazing.  They, in fact, determined policy together, and they therefore probably broke the law.

Imagine however, if Gust developed "Swine Flu," and was home sick for several days when he was supposed to be briefing Wilson.  Whoever would have replaced him would have been much more circumspect, and certainly less "sharing," if you will, about the items on hand.  Remember dear reader, this was not a committee hearing, and there is no official record about the briefing, only the "notes" entered into "the file" by the CIA employee.   The employee, regardless of responsibility is classified as a government "bureaucrat," evaluated and compensated in exactly the same manner as your local IRS Auditor, Customs Inspector, or Social Security Benefits Analyst.  They are employees of the Executive Branch of Government, and their "briefings" of Members of Congress are a courtesy, with the subject matter limited at the direction of the Administration.

It is likely, in Frodo's mind, and pulling from his own experience, that Ms. Pelosi was, by benefit of office, receiving briefings from CIA employees.  Despite her rank in the Congress, she probably had a lesser degree of interest in these specific issues, as presented, than would someone, like Charlie Wilson, who was living, breathing, drinking every bit of information he could get.  Charlie Wilson would have determined immediately, had the situations changed, that the CIA was doing some really heavy stuff in attempting to elicit information from detainees.  Ms. Pelosi, with all due respect, had all sorts of other things on her mind, domestic and foreign, and simply didn't pick up on the severity of the issue.   Therein lies the "mea culpa" of Nancy Pelosi.

Frodo doesn't think the CIA lied, in this instance.  They just didn't answer the questions that had not been asked.  Frodo, as a "bureaucrat" would have done exactly the same thing, unless, of course, he felt it imperative to share classified information outside the limits of the law.  Had he done so, Frodo would still be in jail.  Had Ms. Pelosi been so alerted, John Kerry may have been elected President in 2004 (and gasp, John Edwards). 

Therein lies the lesson.  Class dismissed.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 4:49 PM EDT

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Mood:  vegas lucky

There is a stretch of road that intersects from the west with Interstate 75 at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville.  Since it bypasses the local airport, the cognomen quite naturally evolved into "Airport Highway."  It always struck the transient Frodo suspiciously that nearly all of the available real estate alongside the Airline Highway has been devoted to automobile dealerships.  That, dear reader, is probably one more piece of Americana that is about to face a significant alteration .

What replaces the vacant showrooms?  Does this stretch of road now become "Hamburger Highway," offering the McDonald's Corporation the opportunity to get your business, coming or going?  What about the people named Chuck Clancy or Greg Baranco?  Do salesman simply go and find something else to sell, maybe offering you cash for your golden rings, thereby becoming the "Pawnshop Parkway."  What will the local governments do to offset the loss in sales and property taxes from businesses that no longer exist?  Will entrepreneurs and start-up companies emerge to start over again, simply because there is no one to hire them, offering a potential "Millionaires' Multiplex?"

In "Dances With Wolves, " Kevin Costner comes into contact with a noble people who ask themselves great questions.  They want to know how their lives will change.  They are confronted by a lessening of the precious resources which have sustained them since their fathers were young men, and they fear that "Buffalo Boulevard" will soon become an empty path.  They debate their choices, and they smoke the sacred pipe so that what they do will be ensconced with the blessings of the spirits.

Frodo wonders if Chief Dan George is still alive?  What about the noble actor who appeared in that great environmental message with a tear in his eye as he looked out over a factory belching smoke above the wide plains?  Frodo supposes they are gone now.  He will probably think about them a great deal more, and certainly when next he drives the "Airline Highway."

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 11:28 PM EDT

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Mood:  on fire

"You do what you say you're going to do, that's the example you set," so said the firebrand Frodo.  "After all," he continued, "the entire premise has been 'transparency,' so that all the Citizens of Middle Earth will be able to see and hear the truth; so that they can be informed as well as wise."

"Mr. Frodo, there are an awful lot of people who think that the President is acting wisely, even if he is changing his mind.  After all. . ."

"What are you saying?," screamed Frodo, "How can anyone argue that a bunch of stupid pictures are a threat to anyone else?"

"Well Mr. Frodo, our soldiers overseas. . ."

"Our soldiers?  You moron," said the usually taciturn Hobbit, "the only danger pictures present are self-inflicted wounds to very lonely enlisted men, and women too, I guess."

"Sir, are you saying. . ."

"I'm saying that releasing all of the photographs will allow everyone to judge for themselves," said the red-faced hero of Mount Doom.  "A silicon-additive to a rather plain exterior worked with Pamela Anderson, but for Carrie Prejean, the product is neither offensive nor titillating.  The President should release all of the pictures."

"Uh, Sir, I think you. . ."

"You can think anything you want," spoke the crusading liberal, "but the only way to maintain the public trust is to keep your commitments.  The loss of a single beauty pageant title is no reason to give the opposition an avenue of attack against the new Administration." 

"This has nothing to do with Miss USA. . ."

"That's correct, it is a much more important issue," proffered the jurisprudent one, "going back to the Supreme Court definition of obscenity. . ."

"Sir, it is about Abu Ghraib!"

Just then a familiar refrain is heard by all those witnessing the dialogue between Frodo and Sir Robert of Gibbs, it went "Da-da-da-dot-dot-dotta-dot-dot-dot," and Frodo spoke.  "Excuse me, that's my cell."

"Yo Merry, can I get back with you?  I'm here with. . .Oh, you know that?. . .You're watching us now, you say."

A pregnant pause ensues.

"Gotcha, the pictures they're talking about aren't the nude photos of Miss California USA, but of a bunch of "Madrassah Monties" being abused by military personnel as well as mercenaries from the Land of Cheney.  I see.  Thanks, Merry.  Back atcha."

"Never mind," said Frodo to the embattled Sir Robert of Gibbs, "but in case you hadn't noticed, my cellphone plays 'Dixie'."

Gibbs' cellphone rang.  "Yes Sir.  I'll let him know you were watching."  Frodo shuffled his feet under the gaze of Helen Thomas.  "Yes Sir," added Gibbs, "an excellent suggestion."  He hung up and smirked.

"Mr. Frodo," said Gibbs, "the President would like you to join him on Air Force One for a flight to Phoenix."  Frodo was stunned.  "Yes, he thinks you deserve the honorary degree from a school that accepts 92% of all applicants for admission."

Frodo promised himself, once again, to stop taking himself so seriously. 

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:06 PM EDT

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Mood:  not sure

Frodo is not naive.  He did, however, grow up believing that the world was a lot like the topic Gary Cooper film.  It was not until some outside force interrupted peace and tranquility with mortal danger that the musket was removed from its spot above the fireplace mantel.  Once the threat was vanquished, there would be plenty of time to consider the response, and to seek forgiveness for the violence that ensued.  What mattered was that the musket would be returned to the same spot above the mantel, and that the victory would be remembered as much for its cost, as for its reward.

Frodo laments the loss of Gary Cooper.  The community is not the same, tolerating behavior and response which gives rise to violence as opposed to an unalterable avoidance.  It thus became acceptable for the community to strike first, believing that the soldiers camped down by the river were soon to do the same, and that "turning the other cheek" would be fatal.  The words shared in the Meeting House no longer guide the community.

Anthony Perkins, in his first film, found himself justifying acts which were taken to reduce the potential of future threats to the community.  Despite the community resolve to follow the values upon which each and every homestead had been constructed, unspeakable, nay, inhumane, acts were tolerated, as necessary.  Many, many days would pass before any would again stand in the Meeting House to decry the fact that violence was initiated without regard to the very canons of community.  Acts of violence had been tolerated, even against those unable to defend themselves.

Frodo grew up believing that all Americans were like Gary Cooper and his family, and that all of us shared in that community.  When Gary took that musket down, he did so with the intent of destroying that which first struck, but only after he had exhausted every peaceful means of resolution.  When the fighting was over, the vanquished were treated and offered the opportunity to become a part of the better community.  The Meeting House then became the community forum for forgiveness, compassion, and salvation.

Frodo wearies of talk about torture.  Justification and denial of responsibility are characteristic responses to violence and cruelty.  For those who justify acts of violence there is no mention of "doing unto others."  For those who deny responsibility for violence and cruelty, there is an uncanny reflection of Pontius Pilate and a bowl of water. 

Funny it is that there is no reference by any of these to the values of the Meeting House.  The reference is only to saving lives.  Souls, Frodo supposes, are something we lost when Gary Cooper died.          

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:00 PM EDT

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