Frodo, Keeper of the Ring

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Shower The People You Love With Love, Show Them The Way That You Feel
Mood:

crushed out
Topic: "Berlusconi in Love"(6)

Frodo has been thinking about love all day. With the dawn, he will depart for Mount Doom and give himself all of St. Valentine's "day" to return to the Shire with something appropriate for Samwise on the same date that commemorates hoodlums gunned down in Chicago. Despite the ill fortune of those particular predecessors, Frodo has generally come out of this crisis management exercise pretty well. Frodo likes to believe it is because he is a romantic, at heart.

Frodo prefers Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" amid all the considerable competition. When Romeo hides beneath the balcony and listens to the words of the fair Juliet, hearts flutter in performances to this day. Frodo is eternally indebted to the Bard who provided him the many opportunities to voice the responding "glove upon thy hand, to touch thy face" thereby serving Frodo so well while supine upon the reclining seats of his Rambler Station Wagon. Sigh.

Affairs of the heart are never subject to planning. Perhaps that is why the Italians are so good at making it. On the morrow, with spontaneity as his guide, Frodo will sally forth (Hmm, Sally--"you better slow your Mustang down") and cast his eyes upon retail products of every type. Perhaps the voice of Johnny Mathis ("I must be going, my heart is showing, I'd better hurry awaay. . .") will supplant chocolates and semi-precious stones on this occasion. Last year, for example, Frodo found himself in Kroger, of all places, and stumbled he did into the aisle that contained, among other things, Tea.

Genius it was, that directed the Hobbit to gather as many different and exotic boxes as he could carry. Attest he can to the chemical reaction which occurs when the correct mixture of this magic elixir blends with the gift of blue eyes and a rogue's libido.

Too bad Frodo didn't discover this many years ago. He might've become Prime Minister of Italy.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 7:41 PM EST

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Thursday, February 10, 2011

You Make My Dreams Come True
Mood:

caffeinated
Topic: "Zimmerman Noted"(6)

Frodo is making it through the winter with a tome entitled "Fall of Giants" (courtesy of the Shire Public Library). Ken Follett has commenced a trilogy of the Twentieth Century, and Frodo is now deep into the First World War. The long-ago memory of the historically suspect "Zimmerman Note" was a memory refresher for the Hobbit, but what really inspired this evening's production was something he had forgotten from his studies many nights ago.

Woodrow Wilson was President, and he had won re-election on the campaign promise that he would keep the US of A out of the War in Europe. The British, who were getting their collective butts handed to them (in an event that was to be repeated again only a generation later) were desperate for the Americans to enter the War and pull their bacon out of the mud. The Germans and their allies were equally desperate to keep the Americans out of the War, and to continue wearing down the grandparents of Hugh Grant and Clive Owen. The situation, to the British, required some sort of stimulus to force Wilson to act in their behalf.

Suddenly there appeared the Zimmerman Note. The document was purportedly a communique from the Germans to Mexico, imploring the Mexicans to enter the War as their allies against the United States. Should the Mexicans decide to follow such a course, then the Germans promised that certain parts of the United States would be ceded to the Mexicans as their reward for participating in the victory. Although nearly everybody denied authorship, receipt, or even knowledge of Mr. Zimmerman's note, public opinion in the US of A went ballistic, and soon Wilson's hand was forced, and the Yanks took off for Tipperrary. To this day, no one has conclusively proven to anyone else's satisfaction that the Note was authentic. Many allege that the British concocted the document and that the Germans and the Americans were the dupes.

All of that aside, what caught Frodo's eye was the promise made to the Mexicans. Along with New Mexico (to which Father Tim might object), it was ARIZONA and TEXAS which were to be removed from the Union and gifted to the drug lords of Guadalajara.

What rotten luck befell the US of A in 1918. Had the First World War ended in a truce on the Marne, and if the Zimmerman Note was authentic, then George W. Bush would've been Mayor of Mazatlan. Rick Perry would've been Police Chief of Juarez, John McCain would've fought with Pancho Villa, and Jan Brewer would've been, well, let's just say, "used up."

Maybe next time.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 7:51 PM EST

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Sunday, February 6, 2011

I'm Just a Lonely Pilgrim
Mood:

surprised
Topic: "Vat of Chocolate"(6)

A snippet of news brought the Hobbit out of his somnambulistic state when he learned that the former President, and current moron, George W. Bush had been forced to cancel his first scheduled European appearance since, thankfully, leaving office. It seems that an organization known as the United Israel Appeal had invited him to speak in their behalf in Geneva, but that a number of European human rights groups and the Center for Constitutional Rights had called for demonstrations and threatened legal action. Although the Swiss Justice Ministry had concluded that that the Incomparable Moron would be immune from prosecution for allegedly sanctioning torture of suspected terrorists, the threat of violence resulted in cancellation.

Frodo could not help but imagine what might have happened in this instance, or in any other location outside Texas or Arizona. Perhaps the conversation would have been like the following:

"Mr. President, we have a problem."

"Durn boy, that sounds kind of ominous. You sure you're not one of those guys who flew in Apollo 13?"

"Sir, the State Department has relayed to Ground Control their communication with Swiss authorities about a significant disturbance on the ground at the airport in Geneva."

"A disturbance?"

"Yessir, it seems that, apparently, tens of thousands of people are gathering at the airport in order to demonstrate against your arrival, and the crowd is growing exponentially."

"Well dang, how'd them Frogs even know that I was droppin' in for a private visit?"

"Sir, it has to do with what is known as the 'social media,' and the capacity of so many young techno-savvy individuals to share information. The word has spread among the young, and they have organized all of this on their own."

"Well, why can't we just ignore them, and follow a police escort to the speaking engagement? Damn, I spent 8 years ignoring people, it ain't hard."

"Well Sir, the problem seems to be that they have what seems to be a huge vat of Swiss chocolate on the tarmac, and that they are intent in throwing you into it."

"Chocolate?"

"Yessir, according to the 'tweets' intercepted at Ground Control, they seem to think that if they wait for our plane to land and to come to a halt, they can rush the plane, throw you into the vat of chocolate, and that you will drown before you realize that yelling 'Chocolate!' as you come up for air won't be taken seriously and no one will come to your assistance."

"Swiss chocolate?"

Frodo expresses his regrets to the Smothers Brothers, and his appreciation to a bunch of kids in Egypt.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 2:56 PM EST

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Friday, February 4, 2011

Girls Just Want To Have Fun
Mood:

smelly
Topic: "Beechwood 4-5789"(6)

81570026, that is the number.

Puzzled? Why should you be, thinks Frodo? "Does a day go by that someone fails to submit a patent in order to trademark their own name?"

"Silly people. If you were a half-term Governor of "Seward's Folly," with no accomplishments, and fewer qualifications, don't you think that people would be lined up to live off your name?"

February 4th, 2011. Now Frodo has seen everything.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:02 PM EST

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Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Nothing But a Fool's Game, Standing In The Cold Rain
Mood:

irritated
Topic: "Vinson Can Gogh"(6)

Frodo has a theory, and it has to do with hair color. "Have you ever noticed," said Frodo, "that really bad lawyers who happen to have a full-head of white hair tend to become judges?" This observation applies to the southern reaches of Middle Earth we believe, since Justices Scalia, Thomas, Alito, and Roberts fall outside the parameters therein. The newest priaptic rise to fame in the judicial realm, the august Mr. Vinson, is Frodo's example for today.

Justice Vinson, noting his 78-page decision to strike down the healthcare legislation passed by the 111th Congress, deemed (in layman's terms) it unconstitutional to require private citizens to purchase a commercial product. It would be downright sinful, Frodo supposed, for a Hobbit to have to buy health insurance, and to suffer a penalty should he fail to so do. Judge Vinson certainly supported the logic of those who feel that requiring the purchase of commercial insurance by those not covered by an employer plan falls beyond the scope of governmental authority. Automobile insurance was not an acceptable trend-setting example for the judge in his consideration. The judge did manage to mention that the action of certain parties in Boston Harbor a few centuries ago was a representative response to the indiscretions of British rule which the citizenry herein now note as the brew-kettle beverage political fandango.

The bad taste evident in such remarks left an additional opening for a precedent which, of course, this legal moron would never realize without adult assistance. The USPS delivers the mail in every state. The service is completed when the postal employee places the delivery in an approved container or egress to property. Absent a "mail box," "delivery chute," or some other designated delivery drop-off, the postal employee does not deliver the mail. Since the United States Government does not manufacture mail boxes, nor do they saw letter slots in front doors, it is a truism that unless a private citizen purchases such a device from a private company, then they do not receive any service. Penalized, one might say, for not buying a little "postal insurance."

Judge Vinson was appointed to his life-term position by President Reagan. It was not one of Ronnie's better days. He should have tipped off the judge about the utility of hair-coloring. People don't immediately recognize you as a dumb, old fart.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:24 PM EST

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Sunday, January 30, 2011

I Remember When Rock Was Young
Mood:

accident prone
Topic: "Frodo's Newer Friend"(6)

Inanimate objects rarely achieve friendship status in Frodo's world. A motorcar or two might be an exception, and perhaps if one tried hard enough, inantimacy may be extended to certain books, movies, or recordings. Beyond that, he doesn't favor much that can readily be replaced by something cheaper, prettier, or which can be painted. Today however, Frodo has a new inantimate friend, and his name is Ben Gay.

The warmest day, so far, of 2011 is fast approaching its end. Frodo hand-washed two motorcars, played ball with Mick, the Wonder Dog, raked several pounds of leaf detritus from walkways in the Shire, and freshened all of the birdbaths and feeders therein. He is well aware of the fact that he doesn't have to do everything at once, but, well, he used to do so. Perhaps he simply tries to see just what new limits there are, and he has to test them, periodically. In any event, it is now somewhat difficult to rise up from his easy chair, and when he does it is just conceivable that he will resemble whatever witch it was that bent over double in pursuit of Dorothy and Toto.

Enter his new friend, Mr. Ben Gay. Cognizant he is of places to be avoided by a careless hand in application, thus Frodo caresses his back, and the areas that contain shooting pains when Frodo moves at a speed exceeding the primordial crawl.

Mick, the Wonder Dog, looks longingly at anything that proffers relief to older bones and tendons. His dinner came up a little while ago, and now he contemplates whether begging for replacement is more valuable than merely laying at Frodo's feet, and dreaming about rabbits in open fields ahead. Perhaps Frodo's gentle touch on neck and ear is an acceptable substitute to a canine Ben Gay.

It is supposed to return to a cold rain on the morrow. Frodo needs the rest.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:10 PM EST

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Thursday, January 27, 2011

Michelle, My Belle
Mood:

celebratory
Topic: "Play the Frodo Game"(6)

"Newt and Eddie Cantor."

"Eddie?"

"Yeah, he's a almost as funny as Newt."

"How about Bush and Palin?"

"Jeb? Bristol?"

"Hah, of course."

"I really like the idea of Newt and Palin."

"I can imagine you would, Barack."

"Hey, it's gotta be Paul's kid and Quayle's kid."

"Oh my God, I think I'm gonna blow cookies."

"Huckleberry and Mitt, all the way."

"Ah man, it's Marco of the Mafia, and DeMint of the Jungle."

"How about Gomer the Homer and Pence?"

"Nah, Pence is gonna run for Governor."

"Let's go feminine, and go for the Maine Gals as a package job."

"You mean a 'Snow Job,' don't you?"

"Guys, gals, it has to be Michelle!."

"And Whom?"

"Hmm. . .a violation of the rules. You need a Veep."

"Well, how about Pawlenty."

"That'd be little better than Rhoda and Carlton the Doorman."

"No, I'm serious about Michelle. Why not pair her with Alan Keyes?"

"A woman and a black guy?"

"Well, maybe Keyes would accept Secretary of State?"

"That's been done before, sort of."

"Let's run her with Boehner."

"I think he'd say 'I had other commitments.'"

"Why not a sports guy or movie guy, say like Steve Largent or Chuck Norris?"

"Brett Favre?"

"Uh, I think not. We've seen enough of him."

"Too bad Angle and O'Donnell lost."

"Isn't there somebody with a name like Turner or Overdrive?"

Anybody know Cheney's phone numbr?"

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:25 PM EST

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Sunday, January 23, 2011

Smile In Your Face, All The Time They Want To Take Your Place, The Back Stabbers
Mood:

not sure
Topic: "Wynot"(6)

There is a town, in Wyoming of all places, named Wynot. When queried, residents will respond "Why not?" In the spirit thereof, Frodo speculates about something "newsy."

United States Senator Joseph Liebermann (D-CT), a three-time loser with no legislative accomplishments, has announced that he will not run for re-election. In all likelihood, he would have received significant competition within the Democratic Party, and, once again, would not have received their endorsement.

MSNBC Commentator Keith Olbermann pulled a surprise late Friday evening, and announced that by mutual accord his contract was being terminated. Keith, who rose to broadcast prominence with ESPN (which is based in Connecticut), subsequently became and remained (until this announcement) the stalwart guiding liberal face of MSNBC. Especially during the contentious debate and struggle over healthcare reform, quixotically while both of his parents confronted and lost end-of-life struggles, Olbermann seemed girded for war as opposed to entertainment. On several occasions Olbermann actually wrote personal checks, on air, in order to contribute to organizations sponsoring free health clinics.

Frodo has noted many times, in conversation, that all organizations are comprised of dreamers as well as operators, and that while both are necessary, mutual survival is not permanent. Perhaps Keith Olbermann, who left ESPN under similar circumstances, is a dreamer who simply grows bored as organizations mature. By the same token, he may simply have been waiting for an opportunity, like Liebermann's announcement, in order to follow in the footsteps of Senator Al Franken (D-MN) or Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger (R-CA), entertainers turning to another level of public notoriety. Frodo has also noted that there seem to be greater tendencies to occupational influx into public life by those with money, e.g. look at all the moronic physicians recently replacing moronic attorneys in American political life.

In order to test his theory, Frodo participated in the YAHOO chatroom discussion about Olbermann's resignation, and he was dismayed by the vitriol aimed at Olbermann, MSNBC, and especially at Rachel Maddow. Frodo could only conclude that the weather must have been terrible in the areas that house great numbers of Tea Bagnuts. It convinced Frodo that anything manufactured by anyone with the name "Glock" thereon has got to be put away and locked up from these people.

All further prognostication aside, let Frodo simply say that "You heard it here first," and that Keith would certainly be better than anybody named Joe.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 11:43 AM EST

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Thursday, January 20, 2011

Try to Understand, He's a Magic Man
Mood:

don't ask
Topic: "Nevermore"(6)

When Frodo visited the University of Virginia, he was duly impressed by the architectural talents of Thomas Jefferson. Standing on the Quad however, he found himself drawn to the row of student housing which first housed those in search of an education in Charlottesville. Entering through an open door he noted the brick flooring and the central heat of an individual fireplace in each apartment. Today, for the unknowing, these apartments are the prized educational residences of graduate students. The competition to attain one for a single academic year is intense, and highly political.

At first, Frodo thought that anyone wanting to spend a winter living in such spartan surroundings had to be suffering from the kind of delusions which today guide the Tea Party. That is until he noted that the apartment in which he stood had been that which had sheltered former University of Virginia student Edgar Allen Poe.

Frodo was unable to find any indications of Raven poop on the floor, nor could he locate any portion of the walls which appeared to have been bricked over in order to imprison drinkers of Italian Wine. He was however, totally taken with the moment.

This vignette follows the fact that for the second year in a row, Poe's grave was greeted on the morn of the anniversary of his birth without the customary three roses and a half-empty bottle of cognac which had adorned said monument annually for more than forty years. The unknown person failed to appear on Wednesday past for the second year in a row, giving rise to speculation that the visitor may have joined Poe in a world truly dark and dreary. Jeff Jerome, curator of the Poe Museum, felt it unlikely that the unknown visitor was nearly napping.

Is that the doorbell?

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:40 PM EST

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Sunday, January 16, 2011

Nobody Left in This World to Kiss Goodnight
Mood:

quizzical
Topic: "Kiribati Republic"(6)

Eventually, there will be a day when Frodo is no more. He neither dwells upon nor contemplates such events, but he is often struck by the contrasts of life and death, for there are certainly a wealth of thoughtful stories whispered in cemeteries in all parts of Middle Earth. One such story is presented here because Frodo has personal knowledge of the place, if not the time. The place is a string of volcanic islands in the South Pacific known now as the Kiribati Republic, which were formerly known as the Gilbert Islands, in recognition of the British Sea Captain who "discovered" them a couple of centuries ago. The capital of the Kiribati Republic is named Tarawa.

Frodo and Sam experienced a "Margaret Mead moment," when they took a cruise around the Hawaiian Islands (interestingly, first dubbed the "Cook Islands" for a reason similar to the original name of the Kiribati Republic) upon a foreign-flagged ship. The law at the time required that any foreign-flagged carrier which commenced travel in a US port must visit a "foreign" port before again docking in a domestic port. This would prevent, for example, British Airways from flying between New York and Los Angeles in direct competition with US Airliners. The British Airways flight would have to land in, say, Winnipeg, before continuing on to either destination. This "protectionist" restriction would give the US companies a competitive edge, for sure. In Frodo's case, the cruise begain in Honululu, thereby requiring that the foreign-flagged ship had to land at the nearest foreign port before landing at Hilo. It is 500 miles, and two days sailing at 25 knots-per-hour, to Fanning Island, which is part of the Kiribati Republic, and which served as the foreign port for Frodo's cruise.

Fanning Island sits in 17,000 feet of water, and is merely the lip of an extinct volcano which rises a massive 15 feet out of the ocean. There are about 250 inhabitants, and they are entirely dependent on tourist commerce for their existence, and that ain't much. Their future, if any, is entirely dictated by the concept of "global warming."

Tarawa is another island in the chain, and it was the scene of one of the most storied battles of World War II. For the most part, it is relatively easy to research the ferocity of the battle in 1943, and to thereby contemplate the cost to the victorious allies. What we all seem to overlook however, is the other guys.

Of the 4500 Japanese soldiers who dug in and "defended" Tarawa, only 17 survived.

USMC Sgt. "Ray" Totten survived the battle, and had time afterwards to do a little souvenir searching from the remains of the opposition. He evidently found a handwritten letter, in Japanese, written by Petty Officer First Class Matashiga Koga of the Japanese Imperial Navy. From the translation we now know that Koga had written "Today is the last day." Totten, upon his death, willed the letter to his grand-nephew, Scott Addison, of suburban Atlanta. Addison subsequently felt inspired to see if he couldn't deliver the letter to those for whom it was originally intended. So far, he has had limited success, for it is not far afield from trying to find the relative of an American named "Smith" who may have passed away more than 60 years ago.

What strikes Frodo is that given the ferocity, the brutality, the very horrific nature of the conflict that separated the Americans from the Japanese, with the passage of time, it is the off-spring of the enemy who seek to honor participants in the struggle, on either side. Frodo has no doubt that Scott Addison will eventually deliver that letter, in person, and he won't even charge the lost warrior's family for postage. Our stories, it seems, cross lines of time-and-space, and even the cemetery is robbed of its secrets. It is then that we are all equal, and hate withers into history.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 11:45 AM EST

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