Frodo, Keeper of the Ring

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Look at That Caveman Go
Mood:

smelly
Topic: "Gotta Have a Home (2)"
"Banishment" is a word that sounds medieval. In the Icelandic Sagas it says that banishment was the supreme penalty for the lawbreaker. The offender was simply taken out to the very middle of the country and left all alone. Should he return to civilzation he would be deemed akin to a parolee. However, the Icelanders never had to face that happenstance.

Frodo begins this discussion because banishment is not quite as medieval as some may think. In the land of Georgia, beyond the Shire, banishment exists as a legal punishment for criminals, and as a relief for the banishing county. In truth, a lawbreaker may be driven by the local constabulary from the jail where he is serving a sentence to the City of Atlanta and merely dropped off to fend for himself. It happens with great regularity.

Sadie Fields, who heads the Georgia Chapter of the Christian Coalition, appeared on television last week in an interview. She argued for the State Legislatures' restriction on the rights of gay people. To justify her position she referred to the Old Testament, specifically the Books of Leviticus and Exodus. What Sadie failed to acknowledge, or for that matter what the crack interviewer failed to question, was that these are exactly the same parts of the Old Testament used by past Georgia officials to justify the existence of slavery.

Now the State of Georgia has proposed the most restrictive residential laws imaginable against one particular class of lawbreaker. What has been proposed is that no "registered sex offender" may reside within 1000 feet of any school bus stop in the State of Georgia. By actual measurement this means that there is virtually no location in any metropolitan area in which a person so deigned would be able to live. Should such a person already live in an affected location, then they must leave their residence. A "registered sex offender" is a person with a criminal record who has served his sentence, been paroled, or otherwise released from custody. The punishment, it seems, never ends.

Frodo will not argue that everyone is an innocent, and should be treated as such, but it is fallacious to assume that all those cited above should be singled out for special treatment. Rural offenders, gay people, slaves, and "registered sex offenders" are probably just about as diverse as the internees at Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib. One should probably never turn one's back on a lawbreaker, but to give them no opportunity to ever rejoin the greater community is just plain evil.

There are times when Frodo is not very proud of those who claim to represent him, or his values, or the Shire. Perhaps if they would be required to learn the Ten Commandments by heart? Frodo wonders if Representative Lynn Westmoreland (R-Ga) would sponsor such a proposal?

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:32 PM EDT

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Sunday, June 25, 2006

Well It Looks Like Raindrops, So Many Raindrops
Mood:

cool
Topic: "Rainy Day in Georgia(2)"
The composition of the soil is such that once the presence of moisture is minimized, then the texture is that of concrete. Add water, and the chemical reaction that results is best described as clay. In any event, no matter what stage it assumes, it is almost impossible to farm or garden when it is either too wet or too dry. One has to wait for the right time and circumstance. The fact that anything grows is a tribute to "Yankee ingenuity."

Frodo has been thinking about that ingenuity a great deal lately. As a businessman, Frodo believes in capitalism and the opportunity it affords to the adventurous risk-taker with a better idea. He differs from most of his associates in that he readily accepts that with success comes societal obligation. Warren Buffet, Bill Gates, and Ted Turner are three men whom Frodo regards as models for that in which he believes. Many of those with whom Frodo does business are more concerned with minimizing their obligations, moral or economic.

Frodo once met a young man who had been in Lithuania when the Soviet Union collapsed. The young man told him the following story which Frodo repeats here as a reminder that success does not necessarily correspond to advantage over the less fortunate. Sometimes, it just is.

The young man had completed an assignment for his employer in Germany, and was on his way home to the United States. He passed through Lithuania on the way home, and there he happened to meet several businessmen who were discussing the changes in their country that were sure to follow. At an outdoor cafe he asked the men what they felt was the one thing that the consumers in this former Soviet-bloc nation would most like to obtain from the West.

"Oh, that's easy," said one of the businessmen, "beer, in cans." The others began to nod and quickly voiced their assent.

The young American was aghast. "You've got to be kidding me," he said. "You and your European neighbors brew the greatest beers in the world, and even the best American product is almost tasteless in comparison."

"Oh, that we know, but you have to consider that the Lithuanian people have been watching American TV for years, and with that, we get your commercials," he responded. "That means we have been watching blonde-haired girls in bikinis riding horses on the beach, and drinking beer out of cans. Beer is not in cans in Europe, it is poured into a glass, or served in a bottle."

As they talked, the young American asked a simple question. "How much American beer could you distribute, and how much could you pay for it?" The men looked at one another, and a discussion of possibility began. Remember dear reader, this was a time when the Internet did not yet exist, and something called "TeleFax" was as high-tech as international communication stood.

"We feel that we could sell 5 Million cans of beer, and that we can afford to pay something in the neighborhood of $1,250,000 in US dollars." The young American began to do some mental calculations, and he remembered that his college roomie used to drink some cheap beer that he got for about $1.50 per six-pack. If he could get a wholesale price for the beer, then he just might be able to make enough money to make the effort profitable.

He placed telephone calls to several breweries in the US, finally finding a potential with the Heilemann Brewing Company. They, at the time, had a product called "Red, White, and Blue" which did retail in the US for $1.50 per six-pack. They told the young American they could meet an order for 5 Million cans of beer, (translating to 833,335 six-packs, or 208,335 cases roughly) at a wholesale rate of $.20 per can. Mental calculations quickly translated that 5 cents per can into a potential gross profit of $250,000.

From this discussion he learned that the price included delivery FOB (Free on Board) to any American port of departure.

Three more long distance telephone calls provided him with a shipping contact in New York who could deliver the beer to Hamburg, Germany, for 3 cents per can. Gross profit now reduced to $100,000.

He was able to arrange train transportation from Hamburg to Lithuania for an additional 1 cent per can. Then came the bad news. He learned that Germany had a protective tariff against the importation of foreign beer into that country. It amounted to 1 cent per can.

Defeat snatched from the jaws of victory is something that does not deter a good businessman. The young American, with no more than two additional calls to the US, learned tht if he had the beer delivered to the Port of Baltimore that there was a shipper there who could deliver the beer directly to Lithuania. The cost would be 4 cents per can.

When all was said and done, the young American had spent less than 12 hours, and incurred total expenses of less than $100 in long-distance telephone calls, to achieve a profit of 1 cent per can, or $50,000. The story ends with delivery of 5 Million cans of "Red, White, and Blue" to Lithuania. The supply was sold out in no time, and all of the investors made money.

Since the beer tasted like crap, it should be noted that no further orders were received at the Heilemann Brewing Company. The good people of Lithuania learned that not everything you see on television is as it appears.

When last Frodo heard of that young man, he had returned to Germany, and was looking for opportunity. Frodo believes he must be working on something to prevent soil from becoming either too wet or too dry. At least he wouldn't be at all surprised to find it so.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:02 PM EDT

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Saturday, June 24, 2006

It Always Was a Mighty Fine Wine
Mood:

special
Topic: "Ogal Preston Crews (2)"
Ogal Preston Crews was a bullfrog;
He was a good friend of mine,
I never undestood a single thing he said,
But I helped him drink his wine.
It always was a mighty fine wine.

Joy to the world,
All the boys and girls,
Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea,
Joy to you and me.

Ogal Preston Crews--scholar, raconteur, dog-lover, benefactor, character, and a resident of Fincastle, Virginia, today joined his beloved "Mrs. Peel," and right about now she is licking his hand and telling him how much she has missed her master.

Frodo cannot feel sad, except for himself.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 3:32 PM EDT

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Thursday, June 22, 2006

She's Mighty Tall And Handsome And Known Quite Well by All
Mood:

happy
Topic: "Mr. Toad's Motorcar (2)"
The Riders of Rohan would never understand Frodo's fascination with a new motorcar. Remembering "The Wind in The Willows," and how overjoyed Mr. Toad was when he took delivery of the first motorcar to be parked at Toad Hall, Frodo is awash with excitement. Despite the impending collapse of the oil-based economy, Frodo figures that driving conservatively, a few miles each day, will still allow him to absorb the envy of the Orcs who inhabit the lands about the Shire. Frodo believes it is the ultimate narcotic for the Progressive; to have a Republican salivating over his brand new motorcar. The best part though, is when they see the sticker on the rear window that says, "W-orst President Ever."

Symbols of opulence have never meant very much to Frodo. There is something however, about a gleaming polish and stylish lines that dwarf the boxy appearance of every other motorcar. A slope, as opposed to a corner, on the hood, and an oval rising above each of the dual headlights is crowned by a leading feline ornament.

On his way home tomorrow, Frodo will stop at the grocery store, and park way out in the parking lot. Orcs leaving in their little boxes will notice Frodo's motorcar as they drive by in their sweaty chariots. When Frodo departs the store, carrying a bottle of wine and a block of cheese, he will walk, head erect, never glancing at the Orcs. Through his sunglasses Frodo looks sideways to catch the little drip of saliva that marks the Republican caught breaking one of the Ten Commandments.

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's ass (or his Jaguar).

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:41 PM EDT

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Tuesday, June 20, 2006

I Want to Get Lost in Your Rock And Roll And Drift Away
Mood:

quizzical
Topic: "3 Percent Turnout" (2)
This past week thousands of Virginians exercised their rights as free citizens. Most of them sat down and picked their noses, or so it seems to Frodo, and, of course, that is their right. Just ask all those Virginians who risked their "sacred life, honour, and fortune" to frame the Constitution. "If so inclined," said Frodo, "one might also consider those who felt that their rights extended to include secession." It is a truism that Virginia has often been on point in the battle for individual liberty.

Norton is a community of 4,000 located in the extreme southwestern tip of Virginia. It is Virginia's smallest city, and it was founded for the same reason as its' current status; it is a coal-mining town. Pretty much everyone in the community turned out for the "Best Friend Festival," to observe or participate in the bubble-gum-blowing, watermelon-seed-spitting, limbo, or karaoke activities held during the week-long celebration. Coincidentally, an election was held at the same time.

Jim Webb and Harris Miller were the Democratic combatants in the primary held to produce a challenger to erstwhile alleged US Senator George Allen. When the dust cleared and all the votes were counted, Webb emerged victorious. The significance of the victory may pale when statistics revealed that the turnout, statewide, of registered voters was 3%. That, dear reader, is no typo, it was 3%.

Mentioning the City of Norton serves a purpose to Frodo's composition this evening. In Norton, the vote count was 49. Not 49%, no, 49 total, out of 4,000, probably half of whom were at least registered voters.

George Allen is a stumbling, bumbling, fumbling, butt-kissing, tobacco-chewing hypocrite (As the saying goes, "And those are his good points"). Yet, only 49 people could interrupt the "Best Friend Festival" in order to determine his opponent in the Fall Election.

Has Frodo mis-judged the depth of voter discontent with the performance of the Congress of the United States? Or has the energy crisis given rise to the price of coal and added to the complacency of people who enjoy karaoke? According to one Norton resident, Joyce Payne, the answer is a simple one.
"None of that is what is on people's minds here this week. This is just a time of fun and relaxation. Sometimes you have to just chill and relax; people in Washington should try that. Really, it'll lengthen your life."

At this very moment, Frodo truly believes, Thomas Jefferson is trying to clean the boogers off the mantelpiece at Monticello.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:30 PM EDT

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Monday, June 19, 2006

You'll Be My Friend Should I Grow Old
Mood:

not sure
Topic: "Third Strike Nuance (2)"
Matthew Hahn of Los Gatos, California is a burglar. Hahn, who is 26, faces life imprisonment if convicted for his latest spree which just happens to be his third offense. Under California Law, three felony convictions automatically results in a life sentence for the offender. Frodo notes that "no activist judge" is going to have the option to let a career criminal back on the streets. The phrase "Damn straight," is something Frodo would probably hear in response if he uttered these words out loud.

"Nuance" is an interesting word, and Frodo likes to use it when he talks about hard-and-fast rules; those things which appear to be simply black or white. In the case of Mr. Hahn, the "nuance" is why he happened to get caught.

Last year, while committing the latest of his burglaries, Hahn noticed something very strange in a packet of photographs he had removed from his victims' residence. The photographs were of a man molesting a small child. Hahn anonymously mailed the photographs to the police. Utilizing that information, the police arrested Mr. Robbie Aitken who subsequently pleaded "No Contest" and is now serving a 30-year sentence. Utilizing the same information, the police arrested Mr. Hahn for burglary, and charges are now pending against him which will send him to jail for the rest of his life.

The "nuance" of mandatory sentencing is that Mr. Hahn may have forever remained a free man had he simply destroyed the pictures. The "nuance" of the criminal justice system is that a non-violent offender will receive a harsher penalty than will a man whose deviant behavior endangered a child. The "nuance" is that Hahn is an extremely intelligent, well-read, drug addict, who committed crimes to finance his addiction, but who has not lost his sense of humanity. The system dictates that he be removed to the "garbage pile of life."

In the cell which houses Matthew Hahn there is a growing stack of books. Among the dialogues of Plato, the Tao Te Ching, and "Law for Dummies," there is a paperback entitled "Martyrs," a collection of stories about people who sacrificed their lives for their faith. It is a present from the mother of a young girl, forever nameless.

Simply giving Mr. Hahn another chance is not an answer, but, as the old saying goes, "a mind is a terrible thing to waste." So is a heart.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:23 PM EDT

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Sunday, June 18, 2006

Everybody's Subject to The Blues Now And Then
Mood:

blue
Topic: "Murtha For President(2)"
Frodo was somewhat surprised when John Murtha (D-Pa) announced that he intended to be a candidate for the position of House Speaker should the Democratic Party regain majority status. Then again, Frodo was surprised that he was surprised. What an incredibly brilliant tactical, political move for the Democratic Party? Then again, why hadn't Frodo been counting Murtha among the viable candidates for the White House itself?

The gallant Braves have played as if they were allergic to anything wrapped in horsehide. The Georgia Tech baseball team entered the College World Series and performed as if the nuclear reactor on campus had entered melt-down phase. The Democrats were running around like deer in the headlights because Karl Rove was not an immediate transferee to the federal facility at Fort Leavenworth. "West Wing" had ended its' hopeful run with Jed Bartlett riding off into the sunset and President Santos preparing to confront a foreign policy crisis. The Incomparable Moron (OK, Frodo apologizes, that is "President Incomparable Moron") was shucking and jiving with the White House Press Corps as if his midnight run to Baghdad had actually changed something. Frodo has to admit that some of this was getting him down.

Climbing Mount Doom was not something Frodo had built into his game plan, it was something he inherited. He has learned that things change along the way, and that every success is subject to a fluid environment filled with giant spiders, volcanic lava, and treachery.

Which brings Frodo back to the surprising Mr. Murtha. He is not a handsome man. He is not really a very erudite speaker. He has kept out of the limelight for lo his many years in Congress. That is, he did, until the Pre-Emptive War got to be too much to bear.

Murtha is on the attack, everywhere. He is challenging fellow Members of Congress for their butt-kissing opinions supporting "President Incomparable Moron," and he is quick to the jugular of Karl Rove. He is speaking for the military officers who have no voice, he is speaking for the soldiers who just do their job, and he is speaking for Frodo.

Tonight, Frodo speaks back. Frodo is honored to enter into nomination the name of Congressman John Murtha, American, to be the next President of the United States of America.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:47 PM EDT

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Thursday, June 15, 2006

Let The Cowboys Ride, Against The Wind
Mood:

mischievious
Topic: "Soldier of the Storm(2)"
This is Dog Company on patrol in the Central Highlands. We are near the village of Duc Lap, the date is sometime in September, 1968. Lieutenant Frodo is in command. Our orders are to cut the enemy supply line and to stop the flow of munitions into South Vietnam. This log is maintained by Corporal "Rubber Stamp" Chambliss of Georgia, serving his country, bad knee and all.

"Shotgun" Cheney is on point, mainly because Lieutenant Frodo would rather have him pointing his gun away from the rest of the unit. Most of us feel that Frodo does not trust Cheney, and Cheney is wild enough to do something without having good intelligence.

"Mouth of the South" Gingrich is the radioman. He complains about pulling up the rear, but he is hopelessly out of shape, and at least one of the guys thinks he caught the clap.

"Resurrection" Frist is the Medic. He'd like to be Company Commander someday, but even his best buddies work around him. Frodo keeps him in the middle simply because he knows the guy would get lost on his own.

"Dingy" Hastert is the King of Comedy. He carries the BAR (Browning Automatic Rifle, for all you characters from the "Cut and Run" generation) and keeps everybody laughing. The sad part is that he doesn't realize it.

"Jim Beam" Bush follows "Shotgun" where ever he leads. Nobody knows where he keeps his hooch, but he is the guy nobody wants standing guard after dark. During the monsoon season here (August), he disappears entirely. On patrol, he is best at clearing the trail with a machete (that doesn't require a lot of brain power).

Finally, there is "Mindless" McConnell. He has the grenade launcher. He's from Kentucky, and Frodo thinks he's been banging one of the secretaries who works for President Thieu. It is rumored that she's in labor.

Well, here you have us, volunteers all, who would not shirk from our duty when so many others of our generation got married, went to college, or found maladies that prevented them from doing their duty. No Sir, not men of this caliber, we are not the kind to let somebody else do our fighting. One of these days, who knows, we may be called on to lead our country in other ways? How would it look if we had chickened out?

Lieutenant Frodo would be ashamed of us. Nobody in their right mind would put us into positions of responsibility.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:22 PM EDT

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Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Hit Me With Your Best Shot
Mood:

quizzical
Topic: "Back Door Basra (2)"
"General Halftrack Sir, there's a message for you from the Pentagon."
"I'm sorry Miss Buxley, but General Halftrack is playing golf in the Camp Swampy Open this afternoon," said Lieutenant Fuzz.
"Oh shoot, and I know how excited he will be to finally get a message from the Pentagon."
"Well I can have Sergeant Snorkle drive over to the golf course so that he can deliver it to him. It might be important."
"Oh, would you Lieutenant Fuzz?"

"Beetle, you and Killer take the jeep out to the golf course and deliver this message to General Halftrack. It's from the Pentagon. I'm helping Cookie prepare desserts for the Camp Swampy Officer's Ball this evening," said Snorkle as saliva dripped down his tunic.
"Why us Sarge? You know that anything coming from the Pentagon to Camp Swampy can't be good news. The General will take it out on us," said Killer. "Besides Beetle is already asleep behind the wheel."
"Bailey, if you don't get that jeep over to the golf course in the next five minutes I'll have you on KP every weekend until Christmas."
"OK Sarge, you can count on us."

"Hey Zero, come here a minute," said Beetle.
"I don't think this is a very good idea Beetle," Killer said. "You know what Sarge said."
"I know, I know, but this is Zero for Pete's sake."
"Hey guys, where you off to in such a hurry?," inquired Zero.
"We're on our way to check on a security breach out at the Main Gate, and we have to deliver this message to General Halftrack, and he's in the complete opposite direction. Say, could you help us out and take this message to him at the golf course?"
"Sure, what are buddies for, anyway?"

Frodo knew what would happen to poor Zero on his way to the golf course. Zero tripped and fell off the footbridge and plunged headlong into the creek that gave Camp Swampy its' name. Beetle and Killer were long gone toward the Rec Hall and an afternoon of shooting pool and goofing off. General Halftrack would receive his very first message from the Pentagon and the soaking wet piece of paper would be illegible.

Frodo smiled. Some things are so simple and predictable that they are always enjoyable in Sunday's newspaper. What is scary, thought Frodo, is when real life gets simple and predictable.

"Mr. Frodo?"
"Yes Sam, here I am."
"Mr Frodo, have you heard about the latest 'stragedy' coming out of Iraq this morning?"
"No Sam, I've not been paying attention. What has happened?"
"Well, they're massing 75,000 troops, be they Iraqi police, coalition troops, or American soldiers, and using them to patrol and keep order in Baghdad."
"Okay, well that sounds like a pretty good idea, doesn't it?"
"Yes Mr. Frodo, I suppose so, but why would they announce today that that was their plan for tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow? You're kidding, right? Anybody would realize that massing your strength in one place, and telling the enemy about it beforehand, would be like a free pass to attack in Basra or some other location."
"Bush's poll numbers went up seven points Mr. Frodo."

"Some things," said Frodo, "are just too simple and predictable. And that is what frightens me most of all."

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:29 PM EDT

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Monday, June 12, 2006

Where Are The Green Fields That We Used to Roam
Mood:

sad
Topic: "To the Hoop (2)"
Frodo, unsurprisingly, has very small hands. Great athletes have big hands and very long fingers, making them better able to palm the baskeball, or to make the baseball twist and turn, or even to grasp and hold on to an errant football pass. Frodo had to run faster, hit harder, practice more, just to keep up with the competition.

In the City of Orleans Frodo played on a basketball team comprised mostly of players from Gondor. Hobbits were rarely even participative in these leagues, but all of the players, including Frodo, worked for the same employer. Frodo made the team and played a great deal simply because he could play defense so well. The other players on the team could score a lot of points, but it was Frodo's job to shut down the big scorer on the opposing team. This task did not require big hands.

Frodo's team worked well together. So well, in fact, that they over-achieved and made the City Tournament. Frodo can still see Mike, the shooting guard, and St. Clair, the point guard, leading the charge down the court, so that Freddie and Jim could work off of Frodo's positioning to shoot at the basket. Several victories into the Tournament, and the formula continued to work amazingly well.

In the Semi-Final match-up, Frodo and his friends were clearly over-matched by a physically superior team. Trailing the entire game, it took the frantic and exceptional shooting skill of Mike and St. Clair to pull the score to even with just seconds to play. The opponents had the ball and were clearly playing for the final shot. Sensing an opportunity, one of the opponents took a shot from beyond the foul line with St. Clair at his waist. Frodo cut in front of the opponent to keep him from rebounding a potential miss. Frodo guessed correctly, and the ball bounced high off the rim. Frodo was perfectly positioned and jumped with all of his might to grab the ball in mid-air. Through the corner of his eye he saw St. Clair break away and head toward the far end of the court for a desperation pass. Frodo grabbed the ball and came down with it in his possession. He immediately leaped back into the air in order to clear himself of the taller opponents and to throw a long unobstructed pass to his teammate. Frodo, with his small hands, could not get a firm grip on the ball and he came down with the ball still in his fingertips. That was a violation, and the clock expired with the score still tied.

Frodo was as distraught as he could have ever been. Had he merely been able to maintain control, he could have gotten the ball to the best shooter on the team for the winning goal. His teammates were wonderful, they reminded Frodo that it just meant they would have to work longer, and harder, together, and if it was meant to be, then it would be so.

The score was still even in the overtime period, and there were, once again, merely seconds to play. The opponents took an ill-advised shot and the ball rebounded to the tallest of Frodo's teammates, and Frodo broke instinctively along the sideline toward the goal on the other side of the court. The ball was passed to Mike, the best ballhandler and all-around player, who advanced the ball along the opposite sideline. Mike saw Frodo, and Frodo caught the glint in his eye. Every defender was drawn to Mike, leaving Frodo running full-speed in the clear.

Mike faked to his right then lofted a leading pass to Frodo. The defenders, suddenly realizing their mistake, came after Frodo at a breakneck clip. The pass came down right in front of Frodo and bounced oh so gently into his hands as he approached the backboard. The ball rolled gently off his fingertips as he glided through the air, bounced off the backboard as time expired, and fell through the basket. Frodo's team had won, and before he knew it, Frodo was being held aloft on the shoulders of his friends. His only points of the game, and they were the margin of victory.

In the Final game, Frodo's friends had already used all their magic dust, and the inevitable finally happened. They were sad, but proud, and Frodo of the little hands would have the memory that makes a thousand dropped passes all worthwile.

All of those young men lived in an area called New Orleans East. Hurricane Katrina and the collapse of the levees brought flooding and destruction right into their homes and those of their neighbors. Only Frodo had ever left. Frodo thinks often of those young men, and he continues to worry about both their safety and their future.

Frodo learned in the City of Orleans that hard work and good friends are occasionally supplemented by a helping hand, small though it may be. As another hurricane season arrives, Frodo is looking for the mailing address of the Salvation Army, and all the others who do more than make empty promises.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:44 PM EDT

Updated: Monday, June 19, 2006 9:28 PM EDT

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