Frodo, Keeper of the Ring

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Have You Ever Been Lonely, Have You Ever Been Blue?
Mood:

energetic
Topic: "Say It Ain't So,Joe" (2)
One of the great loves in Frodo's life is the inexplicable game of baseball. It was very hard for Frodo when he realized that there would be no more games to play. For the rest of his life he would be a spectator, a commentator, a "fan." No more desperate dashes with his back-to-the plate in the only plot of ground Frodo ever felt was his, center field. There are still times when Frodo would like one more afternoon, the way it used to be.

Politicians are a lot like athletes. They love the game, the thrill is never gone, and the "backroom" is like the "locker room." It is hard to let go of something so consuming. Just ask Joe Lieberman.

Lieberman professed that he was a great sports fan, and from that he had learned that the game is not over at half-time. Therefore, he reasoned, it was incumbent upon him to file as an Independent Candidate for re-election to a fourth term in the Senate of the United States. Unfortunately Joe has not yet realized that his best days as a politician are all behind him, and that he ran the risk of being the athlete who held on too long, and never acknowledged the dimunition of his effectiveness. He allowed his ego to supercede the needs of his teammates.

Recently, two old friends visited Frodo and Sam. One had been the pitcher and the other the left-fielder in the last game that Frodo played in center field. They reminded him of that last game, and how empty the fields are now without Frodo's chatter and winged feet in the alleys between right and left. They all laughed together when Frodo described his second-to-last at bat, when he took a high and tight pitch to deep center field which rolled far beyond the grasp of any fielder on the opposing team. Rounding third toward home, Frodo slipped and fell flat on his face only a few feet from home plate. As the startled opponents rallied and desperately tried to return the ball to the infield, Frodo crawled, on all fours, and miraculously slipped his hand onto home plate ahead of the catchers' tag. The stands, the players on both sides, and Frodo, erupted in laughter, and Frodo smiled with a grateful tear for what may have been his last hurrah.

Two innings later, the final inning, Frodo came to bat again, with his team trailing by a run. Everyone seemed to know that there was no more magic in that old bat he swung, and, silently, most were simply hoping that Frodo not make the last out. Frodo felt likewise. Frodo topped a ball into the ground into the hole between short and third, and he burst from the batter's box in one last sprint to first base. The shortstop fielded the ball cleanly, but lost his grip on the ball momentarily, and his throw to first was slightly off target. Frodo reached first on the shortstop's error. His friends and teammates applauded.

Moments like that are difficult to accept. Saying good-bye to a big part of Hobbit life is remembered first among all memories. Frodo feels for Joe Lieberman that he hasn't learned how to accept the applause, and to realize that even John Wayne knew when the last shot had been fired. It's never fair, but it is.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:33 PM EDT

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Wednesday, August 9, 2006

I Get The Blues Most Every Night, Since I Fell For You
Mood:

accident prone
Topic: "Mount Mulch" (2)
Frodo has professed to be the smallest and the weakest, he has never offered himself as free of misjudgement. In his continuing effort to improve the Gardens of the Shire, Frodo is an advocate of the theory that "Change is Good." Subsequent to his failed attempt, not unique amongst the universe of attempts, to achieve perfection by spreading straw of the pine all about, Frodo decided to remove the last vestiges of the yellow pine forest which predated Frodo's presence in the Shire. Six 50-year-old trees encumbered the front half of the Garden, aka "The Eastern 40."

This past Saturday, in the searing heat, two regular workers and two undocumented aliens arrived as agreed in the Shire to cut down and dispose of the unwanted arboreal nuisance. Frodo did not properly assess the situation when asked if he wanted to retain the mulch. Frodo was more interested in practicing his fractured Spanish on the refugees from Guadalajara. Frodo evidently told the tree-cutters that he wanted to keep all of the mulch. Frodo should have been alerted to the potential problem when told that he was the first customer that the tree-cutters had ever had who wanted all of the mulch.

At the bottom of Frodo's driveway is the 20-foot-tall mound of pine remnants. It is as if Mother Nature is taking a bit of revenge upon poor Frodo for ordering the destruction of her creation. For four days, off-and-on, in searing heat, one wheelbarrow load at a time, Frodo has been shoveling and hauling pine mulch. The estimate is that there are still four trees in the mound.

The flower beds in the "Western 40" are mulchenized. A new walkway through the deciduous forest outside the fence has been fully mulchimated. Every perennial plant and shrub is now mulchatomic. Only the spacious wasteland of the "Eastern 40" remains to be mulchagraphed. Frodo estimates that at least one-and-a-half trees will remain in "Mount Mulch."

Sam has been rather silent throughout Frodo's ordeal. The suggestion that a sign spelling out "Free Mulch" would be seen as a righteous move has actually been met by the silence of the neighborhood. It is as if they are the White House Press Corps, shaking in their boots and afraid to critically question the judgment of the Incomparable Moron.

Frodo has never felt more like the President of the United States. He should have been paying attention.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:59 PM EDT

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Monday, August 7, 2006

You Can Go Your Own Way, Don't Go Away
Mood:

incredulous
Topic: "Martyr Magic" (2)
Frodo is barely able to imagine exactly how difficult life must have been in the Shire in the Year of Our Lord, 1597. Given the fact that much of the geography is reclaimed swamp and wetland, and that mosquitos are everywhere today, the absence of repellants in that atmosphere must have been, if one will pardon the expression, ungodly. The news that five Spanish missionaries killed by Indians on the Georgia coast in 1597 are now recognized as martyrs, and potentially saints, caught the attention of Frodo. His admiration however, was short-lived.

Pedro de Corpa, Francisco de Verascola, and three of their Franciscan associates were living among the Guale Indians near the present coastal community of Brunswick. De Corpa made his feelings known to the Guale Chief that his son, named Juanillo, should discontinue the Guale tradition of bigamy. De Corpa told the chief that "the Church" would not condone such behavior.

Frodo thought of George W. Armstrong Custer Bush and his "Crusade" to bring democracy to the heathens of the Middle East.

The Guale were not terribly enthused about the opinions of De Corpa and his associates. The next morning, while the Franciscans were at prayer, the Guale attacked and beat them to death. They subsequently beheaded de Corpa, and placed his head on a pike.

Frodo thought about what the "Iraqi people" might do to Bush if they could get their hands on him.

The archeologist involved in the analysis of the human remains is hoping that enough information about de Corpa and his associates is uncovered to justify their beatification. This would, of course, require proof of at least one "miracle" in their names.

Frodo does not believe that a miracle took place in 1597. It would have been a miracle if the Spaniards had left the Guale well enough alone in their own land. The striking parallel is that 409 years have passed, and the quality of leadership has not changed much at all. The invention of mosquito repellant has not improved the judgment of self-righteous ideologues who eventually even piss off those they try to help.

Besides, Saint George is already taken.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:25 PM EDT

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Saturday, August 5, 2006

I Wonder, Wonder Who
Mood:

d'oh
Topic: "Graffiti Government" (2)

Should someone ask, Frodo has been considering how he would resolve the mess that has been made of Middle Earth. It started, he believes, with the single most memorable phrase in any of the collected speeches mouthed by George W. Armstrong Custer Bush. The "Axis of Evil" was, in all honesty, not really that outrageous a concept when defined as the most visible threats to peace and stability. The allegation that Iraq, Iran, and North Korea were somehow linked as part of a global network of anything other than stupidity was a dumb idea then, and it is a dumb idea now. What is even more bizarre is the approach taken to deal with each of the points of conflagration.

Much has been written and broadcast of late about the differences between the "Iraqi Nation" and Iran. So let Frodo voice his ideas using North Korea, wrapped in its' own enigma, to serve as his point of demonstration.

North Korea is an entity that thrives on its' isolation. Very few know anything at all about the people there, much less what they think, or how they live. The government, which truly is a less than benevolent oligarchical dictatorship, maintains its' power because it insulates the citizenry from the outside world. The only information they get is that whatever lies outside their borders is a large and festering threat to the immediate health and safety of those protected by the great leader. All North Koreans fear the outside world because they believe that the outside world wants to steal their cache of rotting cabbage.

The current philosophical approach taken in order to deal with North Korea is, ta da, that's right, isolation. Every time North Korea does something to piss somebody off, the first, and only, suggestion, is to embargo, blockade, or otherwise punish the government. Would it not, argues Frodo, make more sense to merely pack up all the excess grain, corn, and other agricultural products which are maintained by the world's largest food producer and deliver them to the Chinese-North Korean border? At that point set up a sound system, and begin broadcasting into North Korea that people can come and get all the free food they want. Eventually, even the North Korean Army would find itself bereft of troops willing to prevent starving people, including themselves, from this largesse by the "demons" from the outside. In time, and at very little cost to the outside world, the North Korean government would have to change its' proverbial tune, or the people would change it for them.

North Korea would be confronted, in this suggestion, as a single entity, and not as part of some cabal of faceless sub-human creatures. It is evidently quite difficult for the authors of the "Axis of Evil" to recognize that these are human beings, and not Orcs.

That, dear reader, is Frodo's suggestion. In order to deal with the human problems that confront all of Middle Earth, we must first set our own minds to deal with other people and to recognize that their needs are not really that different from our own. Lamentable it is that the present course was set in motion by those who were similarly isolated within their own borders.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 5:14 AM EDT

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Wednesday, August 2, 2006

Come on People Now, Smile on Your Brother
Mood:

sad
Topic: "As Far As We Know" (2)

Marine Corporal Phillip E. Baucus, 28, was killed in the line of duty in Iraq this past Saturday. His uncle, United States Senator Max Baucus (D-Montana), made the announcement on Tuesday.

"As far as we know," said Frodo to Sam, "Corporal Baucus is the only family member of any Member of Congress, any Justice of the Supreme Court, or of any elected or appointed official in the Adminstration itself, who has been a casualty of the Pre-Emptive War."

"As far as we know," said Sam, "his nephew was very dear to him."

"As far as we know, he will be interred in Arlington," said Frodo.

"As far as we know, the President of the United States will be on vacation at his ranch in Crawford, where he goes every August," added Sam.

"As far as we know, George W. Armstrong Custer Bush will go down in history as one of only two Presidents who failed to attend a single military funeral during his term of office," offered Frodo. Sam had a quizzical look for Frodo.

"Bill Clinton?"

"Clinton attended services for the young men killed in Somalia."

"George Washington?"

"As far as we know, Washington attended services for several military officers who had served under him during the Revolution."

"Who, then?"

"John Tyler."

"Well, as far as we know," said Sam, "Bush feels that his presence would be a 'distraction' for the family of the decedent. What was Tyler's reasoning?"

"At his Inauguration Tyler suffered exposure to the severe winter weather, caught pneumonia, and died within thirty days."

"Mister Frodo?"

"Yes Sam?"

"Do you think we could stand together for just a few moments in honor of Corporal Baucus?"

"As far as we know Sam, we will not stand alone."

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:47 PM EDT

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Tuesday, August 1, 2006

Bird Bird Bird, Bird is The Word
Mood:

lucky

"Mister Frodo, what is that bird doing there by your foot?," asked Sam. Frodo was totally oblivious to the inquiry, but glanced to his left to see a yellow hook-beaked bird looking up at him, expecting some sort of attention. Frodo slowly extended his arm and index finger toward the feet of the bird, and it promptly roosted on his finger. Thus began the odyssey of a new species residing in the Shire.

"Peeper" was later identified as a Lutino cockatiel which, according to the Vet, was worth about $80. The Pet Shop increased the capital investment exponentially, since cages, toys, food, treats, vitamins, and medicines for avian residents were not part of the pet arsenal. The lovely lady spoke her name most distinctly, and was quickly accepted by all residents. Rocky and Punkin', the feline contingent at the time, thought she was interesting, but of little consequence to the monarchy. Everyone else just admired her graceful swoops throughout the kitchen area, and watched as she taught Frodo how to play the "Peepie Game" (during which she would open her mouth in a yawn, then wait for Frodo to respond in similar fashion, before her beak was agape again, again, and again).

Distress built around the eggs, however. Peeper would lay two or three eggs, and then act every bit the expectant mother over the infertile progeny. Time and time again, until both Frodo and Sam realized that she required companionship more than popcorn. The Pet Shop owner identified Frodo on sight and immediately began computing the cumulative numbers now required for the purchase of a top-of-the-line Cadillac. Although Peeper was probably four or five years old at this point, the Pet Shop only carried younger birds. The predominantly grey cockatiel to be known as "Sydney," (reflective of his native land) was only six-months old.

There are probably laws which apply to the sexual exploitation of juvenile birds, then again Peeper was only training Sydney to develop the necessary skills of parenthood. At least that could be a valid argument. What was truly unique about the relationship that developed was that Peeper would never again talk to Frodo, or to Sam. Peeper and Sydney, although they would never raise a family together, became inseparable mates in the cage. They would groom each other for hours on end, and over the years it became obvious that Sydney had discovered a purpose for all his tools.

The inevitable occurred one morning when Peeper was found at the bottom of the cage. Frodo and Sam had worried about this moment, and were sure that Sydney would begin to grieve uncontrollably. After the ceremony in the Garden of the Shire, Sydney commenced his daily routine. It was almost as if nothing had changed. That is, until Sam noticed Sydney bowing his head alongside the yellow feeder in the cage, waiting for it to begin grooming him. He squawked in frustration. Whenever he felt the need, he would bow his head alongside the yellow feeder.

Over time, Sydney realized that he could perch on the shoulders of Sam or Frodo, and eventually one of the dullards would begin to groom him with a finger tip. He also discovered that Rocky, the aging and harmless remaining feline in the Shire, was a warm pillow next to the water dish on the floor. The historical enemies became a source of comfort to each other. Fiona and Mick, the Wonder Dog, began to realize that when Sydney landed on a table that meant he had spotted something edible. He, to this day, will pick up whatever it may be, and carry it to the edge of the table and drop it to the floor below for the enjoyment of his flightless friends.

The loss of Rocky, and the entry of Mr. Beau Neau as his replacement has changed the rules somewhat. The cat does not know what to make of the fearless aviator who seems intent on sharing his bowl. Frodo and Sam are very wary. The biggest change has been the loneliness. Sydney, when suddenly he realizes that he is all alone, will begin to scream until someone, anyone, comes to pay him homage or to cover the cage promptly at 6:15 regardless of the time of year. The subsequent discomfort for Sam, who is home while Frodo toils at Mount Doom, is too much to bear. A declaration has been issued that there will be no further avian additions to the Shire.

The exception to the rule would be in the event that a baby mourning dove should fall from a nest. That, dear reader, requires an explanation for another time.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:55 PM EDT

Updated: Tuesday, August 1, 2006 9:59 PM EDT

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Sunday, July 30, 2006

Her Lips Are Like a Volcano When It's Hot
Mood:

on fire
Topic: "Rice on Hot Tin Roof(2)"
There are nights when Frodo has dreamed about the languor of magnolia and its' aromatic presence on a hot summer evening. Sometimes the wild mimosa enjoins its' presence, and coupled with a sprig of mint that touches the nose as the head is tilted back, the beads of sweat and the buzzing tiger mosquitos are overlooked by memory. That is unless one is actually experiencing all of that, rather than dreaming about it. At that point one might actually begin to wonder what the gardens of the Shire would be like dressed in a gown of snow.

Frodo is a Southern Hobbit. The smells and tastes of the Shire affect Frodo as did those of Mississippi for William Faulkner and Willie Morris, Alabama for Harper Lee and Truman Capote, and the Georgia of Ferrol Sams and Flannery O'Connor. Condi Rice is of the neighborhood too, and seemingly driven in her ambition by the same experiences. Her mercurial rise to the highest position ever attained by a black female in any Presidential administration is a source of pride to all who have experienced the same smells and the same tastes.

Southern writers have been sexual deviants, alcoholics, social misfits, and journalists. Perhaps descriptions of life on a riverbank, or sex on sheets wetted against the heat, require an attention to detail that comes from experience. Similarly, for one involved in sensitive negotiations between warring factions, it may be that the naivete bred by success after success in life sets one up for colossal failure. The detail required is absent when one has not experienced the vagaries of treacherous relationships with friends or enemies.

Today, Condi Rice was filmed playing "kissy face" with the Israeli Defense Minister, a full eight hours after the Israelis had bombed the City of Qana in Lebanon. Rice was not aware when she went to the meeting, nor was she informed by her Israeli hosts, that many innocents had been killed, including dozens of children. The Arab world is outraged, all of the "allies" of the United States have issued condemnations of the Israeli action, and the United Nations is standing on the high ground looking down on the United States. The Prime Minister of Lebanon has refused, for now, to meet with Rice.

Frodo likens what happened to the Secretary of State to a case of rectal rape. The Israelis realized that the bombing was a mistake, but they could not risk losing the apparent blessing of the Bush Administration. Recognizing the history of Rice, and her "husb," in being unprepared, they held their scheduled meeting with Rice as if nothing had happened. While she stood there, shaking hands and smiling, with the Israeli Defense Minister, CNN and Faux News were with all the rest of the media who were broadcasting the bodies wrapped in plastic.

Now that she knows that she has been taken advantage of, she is thinking about coming home. Maybe she ought to take the bus. She could open a window and maybe she'd start smelling the coffee. Until then, she's just one more loose lug nut on a vehicle careening out of control, heading toward a very deep ditch.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:44 PM EDT

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Thursday, July 27, 2006

Every Time I Try to Tell You, The Words Just Come Out Wrong
Mood:

lazy
Topic: "Vacation Comin'" (2)
"Well Laura," he drawled, "here it is, almost August again, and time for our month-long vacation on the ranch. Ummm Ummm, I can almost taste the hot dogs and freedom fries."

"George W. Armstrong Custer Bush, do you think we really ought to spend so much time away from your job?"

"Darlin', you know that the Congress shuts down and them boys go out to get money and to play kissy-face back home. The newsboys go on vacations, re-runs are on the tube. Shoot, even the Supremes disappear until October, so why shouldn't we go and catch up on some of the important stuff we have to do around the ranch?"

"Well, you remember what happened last time? There we were flyin' back home after that awful Hurricane, and all those reporters were there taking your picture looking down on the floodwaters in New Orleans."

"I know, but Brownie's not around to screw up anything like that this time, and Snow-Job has replaced the little bald guy. Say what was his name, anyway? Snow-Job will put all the newsboys in a separate plane and pipe in the Faux News Channel to them all day. They'll sleep like babies, no matter what happens."

"I swear George, you ought to remember all that happened in August of 2001 while we were on vacation. That nasty bunch on the 9/11 Commission almost got you to admit that you weren't paying attention to the threats while you were on vacation for an entire month."

"Yeah we were kinda lucky that they allowed me and Dick to testify together, in secret, 'bout all that stuff. But you gotta admit Laura, that was probably the best thing for all of us, it got us re-elected."

"George, why don't we do something different this August? Just the two of us! We'll go somewhere exotic and . . ."

"Exotic? What are you tryin' to do, look like Monica Lavvinsky or somethin'?"

"I meant someplace exciting, not something dirty. You know, like maybe to Australia, or to Scotland?"

"You mean where the men wear them little dresses?"

"Kilts, George."

"Kilts, Schmilts. I'm jes' lookin' forward to cuttin' some brush, ridin' my mountain bike, and maybe tippin' a few for old times sake."

"Same old story, eh? You tip a few for three weeks, and then you have to spend a week de-toxifying."

"Now darlin', you know I've been under a lot of pressure, and the American people want their President to relax and have some time to ponder the great issues of our time."

"And what do you propose that I do while you're having the exact same vacation again?"

"Well what did you do last year?"

"You mean you don't remember?"

"Oh sure, I remember, I remember. I remember everything. You think that crazy old hippie Mother will be camped out front again?"

"George, what are you going to do if this stuff in the Middle East blows up big time?"

"Now Laura, Dick and Condi can handle all that. Condi will go anywhere, any time, whenever I need her, as long as they sell women's shoes in the town. And Dick, Dick has promised me he won't even drink a beer while I'm gone, and his buddy Novack will be on vacation, so he won't have anybody to even talk to."

"Well, it's no use arguing, since you've got your mind made up, as usual. I guess I'll call the girls and see if they can't come and spend a few days with us."

"Girls? What girls?"

"Your daughters damn you, or have you forgotten them, too?"

"Oh no, I remember, I remember. Wasn't one of them kinda sensitive about me givin' her a neck rub a week or so ago?"

"That was the Prime Minister of Germany."

"Gerhard?"

Frodo interrupts this episode of "As the White House Turns," for it is time for the President's nap, and Mrs. Bush has to see to the packing. Join us next time when Laura finds the bottles of Jim Beam in the doomsday briefcase.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:24 PM EDT

Updated: Thursday, July 27, 2006 9:41 PM EDT

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Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Some People Call Me The Gangster of Love
Mood:

suave
Topic: "Lean and Hungry " (2)

Within an hour Johnny Babb would lie dead on the floor, slain by the hand of Frodo. Not that Babb was such a terrible fellow, rather the scene had been scripted long before either of the young Hobbits had trod the stage of Middle Earth. For this was the tenth year of learning, in which words were enacted in much the same manner as when, in the fourth year, they had been taught to multiply. Babb was a very regal Julius Caesar and Frodo his noble Brutus.

The remainder of the cast were undistinguished since they remain anonymous for purposes of recall. They all sat in their seats and followed along with those in front who read their assigned roles. The reading of Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar" in Tenth Grade English was a routine followed annually in the Shire, and Frodo rose to the occasion with high enthusiasm. The ancient words seemed to come alive for Frodo, and he glided through as if the dialogue had been drawn for him. Babb was a formidable assistant Even the teacher was caught up in how well the class involved itself in the classical text. Frodo remembered the smile of Janet Perry who watched him from her desk in the front row.

Shortly after Caesar spake of Cassius as "having a lean and hungry look," the conspirators struck, one-by-one, and Caesar slumped toward the floor and raised his weakening eyes to meet the intensity of Frodo, preparing to strike the final blow. Babb, unfamiliar as he was with Latin, blew the lines when he stated "Eat Two, Brute."

The class erupted in laughter, and Babb's pale complexion reddened to match his full head of hair. Frodo paused while all around him tried to regain their composure. When, at last, all was silent, Frodo proceeded and brought the life on stage of Johnny Babb to a well-deserved conclusion.

In the days to come Frodo started, on his own, to read many more of those plays. As time passed, he learned that others in his class had done likewise. When the end of the school year arrived, and the ritual of autographing each other's Annuals took place, he noted that Janet Perry had written something special, just for him. She remarked that he had been "a darn good Brutus."

The next year, Frodo took little Janet Perry to the Junior-Senior Prom. A year later they would part, and go in entirely different directions. Such, Frodo supposes, is why art and life are mirrors upon each other.

Little Janet Perry is now a grandmother.

Yikes.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:56 PM EDT

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Tuesday, July 25, 2006

I'd Change Those Sad Rags Into Glad Rags If I Could
Mood:

sharp
Topic: "Yes, No, Who Knows?" (2)
There is one very incontrovertible fact about the national political scene today, and that is that the Republicans are in charge. The President, George W. Armstrong Custer Bush, is a Republican. Both the Senate and the House of Representatives hold Republican majorities. The Supreme Court, also, has more Justices appointed by Republicans than those appointed by a Democratic President. Frodo believes that it would logically follow that there would be a singleness of purpose, unanimity if you will, on an agenda if not on indiviudal pieces of legislation.

As Johnny Carson might have said, "Incorrecto, Camel's Breath."

A few days ago, Frodo was reminded of the miasma of partisan politics by elected representatives with conflicting "special interests." The Senate Finance Committee approved a bill directing the IRS to make electronic tax filing through its' Web site. This would allow individuals, within the next three years, to file tax returns by computer without buying commercial software or paying a professional tax preparer to do so in their behalf. In and of itself, a very noble-sounding effort to make tax filing both easier and less costly for the consumer.

The problem is that the foregoing action is the exact opposite direction taken by the House of Representatives earlier this year when they voted to PROHIBIT the IRS from developing or providing free electronic tax preparation or filing services for individuals.

As Joan Rivers might have said on The Johnny Carson Show, "Can We Talk?"

Frodo offers the following as a taxing mental exercise dear reader, see if you can guess where certain organizations may have directed campaign contributions in the past year?

The makers of the software program "Turbo Tax."

The tax preparation firm "H&R Block."

What about The United States Postal Service?

For whom do these characters work, and why do we tolerate them?

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:21 PM EDT

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