Frodo, Keeper of the Ring

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

That Old Sweet Song Keeps Georgia on My Mind
Mood:

a-ok
Topic: "Out Damned Spot (2)"
Frodo has had many occasions to look at the lands around the Shire, and to be ashamed. It is not a felony, for example, to commit cruelty against an animal in the State of Georgia. Despite the biblical directive in Genesis (St. James Version) to maintain "dominion" over the creatures of the Earth, in Georgia that terminology has been deemed to define unquestioned mastery over the animal kingdom. In another instance, former Senator Max Cleland, a triple amputee of the Vietnam War, was cited in political advertisements as being in league with Osama bin Laden in "The War Against Terror." His defeat by Saxby Chambliss was a very low point in the political history of the United States.

Masterminding the divisive campaign has been both the vocation and the avocation of Ralph Reed. His Consulting Firm has been involved in money laundering, influence peddling, political dirty tricks, and perjury. Although not indicted, as yet, Reed has unquestionably documented his chicanery by e-mail messages, and in verbal statements. His 20-year association with Jack Abramoff convinced right-thinking people around the world that he was, indeed, a bad guy.

Tonight, Ralph Reed ate the big one. The "Red State" of Georgia rose to the moment and slapped him down within the confines of a Primary Election within his own Party. Within three hours of the closing of the polls statewide, Reed conceded defeat to a political lightweight of no consequence. Even the bigots, the religious zealots, and the politically uninformed were not numerous enough to join with the "True Believers" and carry this weasel to victory.

Frodo salutes the wisdom of his Republican friends, who acted in the best interest of our Nation by sending this slimeball to the trash bin of American History. To fail in an election for a ceremonial position within your own Party, within your Home State, is the death knell for this representative of the Dark Side.

It deserves note that this was an "Open Primary," meaning that any registered voter could vote in either the Democratic or the Republican Primary. Frodo very proudly took a Republican ballot, and pushed but one block on the touchscreen of the Diebold voting machine. Frodo and the Georgia Republicans hung Ralph Reed from a sour apple tree.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:58 PM EDT

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Monday, July 17, 2006

Stuck in The Middle With You
Mood:

loud
Topic: "Little Big Horn (2)"
If Frodo were to paraphrase Caesar's "Commentaries," he would begin by saying that "All of the Middle East is divided into three parts. . ." Truth is, he would not be far from correct. Today, especially, the setting in this Hornet's Nest revolves around the border conflict separating Israel from Lebanon, the Iran-through-Syria Road to the Mediterranean, and the continuing insurgency in Iraq. What is most troubling to Frodo in this scenario is the fact that 135,000 American troops are right smack dab in the middle of the instability.

Iran may not have a nuclear weapon, yet, but they do have "fissile material." Iran is predominantly Shiite Muslim, as are both Syria and Iraq. The greatest population center in Iraq is the predominantly Sunni area in and around Baghdad. It is also the location of the greatest concentration of American troops. Frodo cannot help but worry about a Shiite suicide bomber, with fissile material, setting his (or her) sights on this concentration of infidels, in the mind of the Shi'ia. There is no greater argument for bringing the American troops home, now. The enemy is crazy, and they have no fear.

Had Frodo walked the Montana Territory in 1876, he probably would have called General George Armstrong Custer something like "George W." They both underestimated their enemy. They never caught sight of the grand scale of their predicament. Good boys died, and nothing good came of it.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:10 PM EDT

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Thursday, July 13, 2006

Whenever You're a Sleepin' Poison Ivy Comes a Creepin' Around
Mood:

on fire
Topic: "Diazinon Ditties (2)"
The California Department of Pesticide Regulation (What, you don't have a DPR in your State?) has published a "Top 10 List" documenting aberrant behavior by State citizens using Pesticide improperly. Reading things like this should make the good citizens of Texas begin to chant "We're #2," when reflecting on the stupidest human beings all congregated in one political geosphere.

Frodo offers the following and tries to withhold comment until the presentation is concluded: 1).One Californian discovered sewer rats entering his home through a toilet, so he dropped an incendiary device intended for gopher eradication down a plumbing vent on his roof which resulted in $80,000 damage before firefighters could extinguish the blaze; 2). Another Californian set off four foggers in her small apartment, left the residence as instructed, but returned to pick up forgotten items, and dialed 911 when she began to feel dizzy. Both the victim and the sans-protective gear paramedic were revived successfully; 3). A 38-year-old woman found a home remedy for head lice on the Web (probably at www.freerepublic.com) whereupon she applied 8 ounces of dog flea-and-tick shampoo garnished with olive oil to her scalp and wrapped her head in cellophane. She reported feeling "itchy and burny" while experiencing nausea and excessive drooling (and probably a latent desire to lick her butt); 4). A 23 year-old man spotted a fly on his beer can, and sprayed it with insecticide. Later, as he continued to drink the beer his lips began to tingle (see earlier comments regarding "Red, White, and Blue"); 5). An 18-year-old sprayed half a can of outdoor-use insecticide in his bedroom, then retired for the evening. After treatment for abdominal cramps and diarrhea, he vehemently denied his sister's allegation that he was "sniffing"; 6). A man was spraying his yard with insecticide and stopped for a chew of tobacco, without first washing his hands, which he remembered to do once the vomiting, salivating, and shortness of breath ended (he must be a relative of US Senator George Allen of Virginia); 7). Another Californian sprayed three cans of lice treatment on his bed, then went to sleep. He told the attending physicians he assumed that the more he used, the better it would work (darn good thing he wasn't using VIAGRA); 8). A Woman (little gender equity if you please) diluted bleach in a cup, then forgot about it and went to bed. The next morning she warmed the liquid and had a big, old slurp; 9). A California homeowner sprayed her cupboards to kill a spider, then stuck her head into the cupboard to determine if the spider was dead. She recovered from the respiratory distress in the local hospital; and 10). A San Francisco physician over-treated his closet with mothballs. Dressing for work the next day he began to feel dizzy and experienced a total loss of muscular coordination. The following day, when he repeated the blunder, he went to the emergency room and was hospitalized overnight. He thought he had had a stroke (this physician must have been trained in Texas).

Frodo notes that Anthropologists still argue about the point in time which defines the Evolutionary division between man and ape. Frodo offers the 10 documented incidents above to verify his theory that the division has not yet been completed. Frodo wonders how many of these people voted for Ahnold?

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:09 PM EDT

Updated: Thursday, July 13, 2006 9:17 PM EDT

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Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Bury Me Not on The Lone Prarie
Mood:

d'oh
Topic: "He is deeply missed (2)"
Frodo has always had an affection for newspapers. When he travels the lands of Middle Earth, he finds a reason to purchase the local paper and to peruse the chronicle of life in an alien community. The local police report, local politics (which may actually be the same thing), and the obituaries are his favorites.

"The obituaries Mr. Frodo? Is that a reflection of the fact that you're checking to make sure that you're not listed?," asked Sam.

"No Sam, I've simply found that by listing the things that are remembered as important, the writer is apparently addressing the values of the community. It goes without saying that it also tells us something about ourselves?"

"For example?," queried Sam.

"Well, let's take a look at the obituaries in the ATLANTA JOURNAL-CONSTITUTION, and both pick out an obituary which we feel is particularly interesting, for whatever reason. Then we wil read parts of the selection, aloud, to one another. You go first."

"OK, I'll pick Martha Clayton Clement, age 53, where it says that she became deaf at the age of three, and subsequently became one of the first students to receive individualized K-12 instruction from a Speech teacher specifically for the hearing impaired. She later joined the Georgia State Patrol as the secoond female license examiner in the State, and was instrumental in establishing the TDD system to assist the hearing impaired in obtaining driver's licenses."

Sam was a little stunned, and remarked, "This means that since she was only 53, that it was only 30 years ago that there were NO women in those positions with the State? For Pete's sake, that was 1976."

Frodo added, "You're right, but think of what preceded her as a deaf person if she was among the very first to get sufficient instruction to allow her to graduate from high school. It probably means that to have been deaf in Georgia was virtually assuring that an individual would be semi-literate, at best."

"Sam, that was after all the great accomplishments of the Civil Rights Movement."

"You know Mr. Frodo, I believe many owe Martha Clayton Clement a debt of thanks."

"I think we all do, Sam."

"Now," said Sam, "Read me about the person you picked."

"I was hung up between two. I liked Mr. Buddy Cawthon, age 80, who was an avid Camellia grower, and Past President of the American Camellia Society. A man who devotes his life to beauty is rare, indeed. However, I was taken by what was written about Mr. Thad Dean LaVance, age 50. It says that he was a well-read and culturally diverse man whose passion for salt-water fishing and culinary excellence was only surpassed by the love he had for his family. His contagious laugh and vivid sense of humor could summon cheer and optimism in an otherwise bleak environment. He is deeply missed."

"Oh Mr. Frodo, how lovely that is. Those closest to him remember him for the laughter he brought into their lives. What a tremendous tribute."

"Is there a point, Sam, you think, to what we've just read?"

Sam thought for a minute about what had been absorbed over the past few minutes. Sam looked at Frodo and said, "If you take these obituaries as important, which we did, then I've learned that much has changed about life in the Shire in just a few short years, and some very ordinary people played a great role in what has taken place. I've also learned that we have lost a lot of the laughter in our lives."

Together Frodo and Sam strolled out into the gardens of the Shire, and looked for shooting stars in the night sky.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:30 PM EDT

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Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Young And Free, Only Seventeen
Mood:

accident prone
Topic: "Toro, Andalay,Toro (2)"
The College of the Shire sits high on the Appalachian Plateau. From its' highest point, which happens to be in the Cemetery, Frodo was first tempted to follow the path to Mordor. On a brilliant October afternoon Frodo sat with Tom Bombadil and they contemplated the majesty of the land that lay before them (It should be noted that Frodo never again visited this idyllic spot unless he was with a Hobbit of the opposite sex).

Tom Bombadil pointed to the distant mountain, covered with snow, which stood beacon-like against the azure and green of Heaven and Earth. "Let's go there Mr. Frodo," said Tom, "and look at Earth from both sides now."

"But we have no motorcar," said Frodo, "and surely it is a journey of many miles."

"Agreed, but why not walk as far as we can, just to be closer to something so special, so rare," answered Frodo's companion.

"Well, we could cross the fences of farmers' fields and the distance would certainly be halved," Frodo suggested, "But we have to promise to turn back before sundown so we are not lost in alien land," he offered, with caution.

"Agreed," said Tom Bombadil, and the two kindred spirits were off in search of the mountaintop known as White.

It was a long walk, and crossing many fences soon put them into territory that was totally unfamiliar. As the afternoon wore on, it unsurprisingly grew colder all about, and the travelers became less than cautious of their surroundings. With no warning whatsoever, Frodo first noticed the hilltop observers monitoring the progress of the uninvited guests upon their land
and stopped dead in his tracks. Tom Bombadil, noting the silence and the apparent concern of Frodo, turned to look in the same direction, and he grew as silent as the wind toppling the blades of grass at their feet.

One of the bulls bellowed, as if he were signaling all to charge, for that is what they did. Down the hill they came, at a furious clip, twenty or more, directly toward the frozen vagabonds who had inadvertently wandered into the pastures of an Agricultural Experimental Station. Neither Tom nor Frodo knew exactly what to do, but there was a tree in the middle of the field, and Frodo knew that he could reach the base and scamper skyward in the time available. Tom was not so sure, but he followed as fast he could behind Frodo, only to freeze at the base of the tree with the words "I can't make it."

Frodo would not leave his friend, so the two backed against the tree and stared back at the onrushing bovine assassins. Tom was gurgling from deep in his throat when Frodo began to sing.

"I'd like to teach the World to sing in perfect harmony. I'd like to buy the World a Coke and keep her company. . ."

As Tom Bombadil swore for many years, as bad as Frodo sang, it seemed to have some impact on their attackers. Tom urged him on, and on, until the bulls seemed to universally find greater interest in blades of grass than obviously tone-deaf intruders. After an eternity the bulls turned, and moved far enough away that both Frodo and Tom were assured they could make the first barbed-wire obstacle faster than any creature with four legs. They were proven correct.

Much later they returned to their dormitory, and actually had time to catch the last line at the evening meal. Frodo begged off from Tom however, when he became acutely aware of the fact that he needed both a shower and a trip to the laundry.

Frodo learned that entering another's land without an avenue of retreat is a dangerous path to tread. It makes him wonder why such wisdom is confined to Hobbits.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:49 PM EDT

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Sunday, July 9, 2006

Oh Me Oh My, I'm a Fool For Ya Baby
Mood:

cheeky
Topic: "Taxpayer Assistance (2)"
There are two pieces of official correspondence which were designed to instill foreboding into the psyche of the recipient. For the time being, one of those is not likely to enter the mailbox of any resident of the Shire. It is the one that begins with the word "Greetings," and, in times past, it directed the recipient to Fort Benning or some other preparatory juncture. The other is that which carries an important message from the Commissioner of Internal Revenue. Frodo received that one this past week.

Frodo was incensed that the tax return which he had prepared by hand, free of outside assistance, was being questioned by a lackey of George W. Bush. Frodo reviewed his return, taking special note of the one "line" on the return that was being proposed for "adjustment." It looked fine to Frodo, and therefore did not seem to require the machination suggested by the Orcs.

To prepare for the "toll-free telephone call," Frodo assembled the IRS' own publications which he had used to compute his liability (Frodo prefers to consider it his "contribution"). When he did call he was prepared to speak authoritatively, and to put the miscreant in his place on the other end of the telephone line. Unfortunately, the voice on the other end of the line was that of a lady, and she sounded like somebody's Aunt Flora. It is very difficult to sound authoritative and professional when talking to Aunt Flora.

What was worse was the fact that Frodo had, indeed, overlooked one of those inanities in the Tax Laws which make absolutely no sense. Aunt Flora agreed with Frodo that it was a ridiculous aspect of the law, and Frodo knew that further verbal conflict was unjustifiable. She just didn't have to be so darned nice.

It made Frodo think about an old friend whose passing was noted earlier this past week. Ogal Preston Crews, a teacher, had retired and gone to work for the Internal Revenue Service in the exact same role as Aunt Flora. He would answer far more than 100 incoming telephone calls every day, and the complexity of the queries ranged from the "Well Duh, if you'd read the instructions. . ." to "The Tax Court of the United States ruled. . ." Crews had to treat everyone exactly the same, firm but polite, and to respond fully and concisely to the question at hand. As the story was told to Frodo by someone who was there, he knows the following to be true.

Crews received a telephone call from a gentleman who had a question about the preferential treatment given to forested property. Land that is used to grow trees to be sold for profit qualifies for special benefits, just as does land that is used for growing certain crops. What the caller asked Crews was, "How many trees does it take to be considered a forest?"

Crews alternatively sipped from a coffee cup and dragged on a cigarette (enough said), and contemplated the question. The smugness of the caller was shattered by the question in return, "Well, how many whiskers does it take to have a beard?"

The caller laughed out loud, and obviously smiled into the telephone. "I suppose, young man," the caller said, "that if I have to ask I probably don't qualify in either instance?"

"I'm afraid that is probably so, Sir."

Frodo wishes he had told Aunt Flora about Ogal Preston Crews. Oh well, now you know, dear reader, and that is important enough.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:06 PM EDT

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Thursday, July 6, 2006

Every Limbo Boy And Girl, All Around The Limbo World
Mood:

don't ask
Topic: "Horn of Africa (2)"
France and Italy will square off later this week in a mind-numbing athletic contest to determine the winner of what is known as "The World Cup." For what seems like hours, young men will run back-and-forth in searing heat in the attempt to deposit more balls into a rectangular net than will their opponents. It is an emotional sport, primarily because of the nationalistic fervor which the competition inspires. Frodo remembers a trip to Germany many years ago just when Russia (then USSR) and Germany were squaring off in such a contest, and he was startled to hear fans of each team refer to the pending contest as "Revenge for Stalingrad." It was a synonym not easily forgotten by any who were vaguely familiar with the horrors of that struggle.

The globalization of this small, blue planet is set aside when national flags fly from packed stadiums. Frodo assumed that this would be a continuing series of events until space aliens replace teams drawn from national boundaries. Last week however, Frodo was reminded of the barbarous Orcs who intrude on the games. In Somalia, a land that has no nationalistic principle at all, the authoritative religious leaders of the majority Islamic faith put the viewing of the World Cup off limits to their faithful subjects. For violation of this edict, two young men were executed for having watched one of the games on a television set.

Dear reader try to imagine, if you will, what might have happened had the two unfortunates been caught dancing? There are places in Middle Earth where that activity is forbidden because it also violates an edict directed to the pious and the faithful. The consumption of tea and coffee are similarly forbidden, and gambling, well even the less righteous are aware of the despair that brings to the faithful. Frodo is well aware that history is chronicle to the cruelty of men-to-men in the name of faith.

Boys die because they watch a soccer match on television in the 21st Century. The global planet is a study in extremes, and degree. Just ask Ralph Reed what kind of behavior he thinks should be restricted.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:27 PM EDT

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Wednesday, July 5, 2006

But Come Ye Back When Summer's in The Meadow
Mood:

lyrical
Topic: "Oh Kenny Boy (2)"
Events of this day require that Frodo issue an apology. It is now most likely that George W. Bush will not issue a Presidential Pardon on behalf of the single largest contributor to his Texas Gubernatorial Campaign. Ken Lay dropped dead of a heart attack, thereby negating Frodo's projected occurrence for early January, 2009.

What it is that motivates men to sacrifice personal integrity is merely colored ink on a linen weave. Such a life deserves no lament, in fact it is undeserving of respect. How quixotic that one who bears such heavy responsibility for the political career of George W. Bush joins the ranks of the thousands whose funerals will go unattended by the President of the United States. Frodo supposes it would indeed be a "distraction" for the family to have he who called him "Kenny Boy" stand by the grave of his financier.

Frodo wonders how much of the ill-gotten gains of Ken Lay ended up in the advertisements paid for by the "Swift Boat Veterans for Truth?" Resources which this man embezzled from the employees under his direction were used to subvert the electoral process. Thousands died to protect that process, but Ken Lay got rich on other peoples' money, and he used it to support the worst Presidential Administration in American History, by any standard. Frodo has no sympathy, only regret, regret that Ken Lay ever lived at all.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:13 PM EDT

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Tuesday, July 4, 2006

I'm Gonna Sit Right Down And Write Myself a Letter
Mood:

chatty
Topic: "Tree Fishin' (2)"
Frodo had much to contemplate in the days leading up to the 230th Anniversary of American Independence. A Japanese Prime Minister visited Graceland, the Republican-dominated House and Senate took polar positions on the same issue, the gallant Howard seemed to be slipping further and further away, and the rumblings emanating from Mount Doom indicated that Frodo was falling two steps back for every one taken. So Frodo went fishing.

Accompanied by Fiona and Mick, the Wonder Dog, Frodo launched the "SS Minnow" from its' berth on "Lake Lovey," and departed for the shady shoreline. Brutal summer heat means that daytime fishing in freshwater is deep and slow, unless, of course, one knows of a shady spot where minnows are plentiful. Casting rubber worms underneath the overhanging limbs of deciduous trees is tolerable in the shade, and often fruitful for the patient fisherperson (and crew).

Drifting slowly along such a shoreline, Frodo noted that his crew had succumbed to the rigors of their duties. Nary a one had any interest in Frodo's commentary on Koizumi's rendition of "Falling in Love With You," (he was good!). So Frodo was able to concentrate entirely on his mid-summer daysdream in which he portrayed Spencer Tracy as "The Old Man" in Hemingway's "Sea."

Casting in such an environment is fraught with danger from those same shading overhanging limbs. Frodo's rubber worm arced slightly to the right and came down on the other side of such a limb. The snagged line allowed the lure to dangle just on the surface, and to lightly rise and fall with the wind and the waves. Without warning, an irritated largemouth bass took note of this unique offering and struck at the lure with the ferocity of "Jaws" in pursuit of the crew of the "Orca." This was certainly the first time that Frodo had ever witnessed a tree catching its' own fish. He was humiliated when, awakened by the clatter, his loyal crew swung into action expecting to closely examine another prized catch by their fearless leader.

It is very difficult to explain all of this to a dog. By the time Frodo was able to manuver to the location of the dangling fish it had escaped into the depths. Mick, the Wonder Dog, avoided eye contact, and returned to his slumbers. Fiona, however, evidently felt a bit of empathy for Frodo, and gave him a small kiss on the hand.

She surely knew that Frodo would've let him go anyway. Frodo scratched Fiona's head and chin and turned "The Minnow" leeward, toward the shallows in a hidden cove, free from overhanging limbs and robber trees.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:08 PM EDT

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Wednesday, June 28, 2006

I Just Dropped in to See What Condition my Condition Was in
Mood:

lucky
Topic: "Baby Doctors (2)"
Doctors are supposed to be old, and they are supposed to be wise. It is disconcerting to Frodo whenever he comes into contact with a physician who has not yet read the complete works of William Shakespeare, nor memorized Gray's Anatomy. Frodo truly resents medical practitioners who have deviated into the political arena, for they join the failed attorneys and over-the-hill jocks who populate the Halls of Congress. There are not enough of those people whom Frodo was led to believe worked in medicine because they wanted to "help people."

Frodo's personal physician is a crusty guy who once helped maintain the physical attributes of Navy Pilots. Frodo is comfortable with him because he does not remember Frodo from one visit to the next. Visiting the doctor is an event that, although significant to Frodo, should be handled routinely and efficiently by the medical practitioner. Special treatment and attention is what concerns Frodo.

Frodo once had a hemorrhoid (in this instance it was not George W. Bush). It was not a common occurrence, and neither Frodo nor Sam seemed to have any solution for the discomfort it caused Frodo. As the discomfort, and the swelling, grew, Frodo had to succumb to medical counsel and treatment. Frodo did not have a regular physician at the time so he had to endure the indignity of the local "doc in a box." It was Frodo's very first visit to this innovation in medical care arising from the franchised world of big business.

After a plethora of forms were filled, Frodo was eventually led to a private chamber to await the assigned physician. The wait was interminable, although in truth it was probably only a matter of minutes.

The "doctor" turned out to be an extremely attractive, young, black, female, approximately half Frodo's age. Only one of us blushed as she examined Frodo's chart.

After a few "Hmmm's" and "I see's," she told me that she would have to conduct a digital examination. She asked Frodo if he would be uncomfortable with her performing the examination. Without hesitation Frodo responded, "Young lady, Frodo has no objection whatsoever because you are about to satisfy a lifelong fantasy."

With that, the doctor began to laugh. She laughed so hard that she could not stand up straight, and tears ran down her cheeks onto the examination room floor. Everytime she raised her head and her eyes met Frodo's, she would begin to laugh again. Soon Frodo began to laugh, too. The laughter became so raucous that eventually a nurse knocked on the door to see if there was a problem of some sort. Neither Frodo nor the doctor could stop laughing long enough to answer the door. The nurse must've simply stood there for several minutes, hesitating to interrupt whatever was going on in that examination room.

When, finally, the laughter ceased, the digital examination was just about to commence when the doctor snickered. That started Frodo to laugh again, which, of course, led to the doctor developing another hysterical outburst. By now, Frodo was buck naked, and the doctor had probably wet her britches.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the two got their respective breaths, and went efficiently about the completion of their professional relationship. Upon completion, Frodo went to the reception area to finalize the fiscal aspect of his transaction, and to pick up the prescription the doctor had prepared for him. As he started out the door, he turned and looked back to see the doctor standing on the far side of the room, smiling. He said to her, "You were a dream come true." And she started to laugh again as Frodo stepped, smilingly, into a February's twilight.

One thing is for sure. Frodo would never have had such an experience with his present physician.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:51 PM EDT

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