Frodo, Keeper of the Ring

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

We Are Siamese If You Please
Mood:

not sure
Topic: "Isn't Amnesty Good?"(3)
A very old Hobbit once told Frodo that he solved his worst problems by merely turning his rear-view mirror downward so that he would never see the problem again. Frodo notes merit in this approach, simply because some problems become so consuming, and opinions set so deeply, that reasoned discussion becomes little more than a shouting match. Frodo hesitates to wade into an issue that is so volatile that he finds himself straddling both sides, because he agrees with both of them. The result being that everyone thinks Frodo has a screw loose. Recognizing that as a possibility, Frodo therefore steps off into deep water.

Illegal immigration is Mexico's problem.

Frodo asks, dear reader, how one country can afford to lose millions of hard-working people and not suffer the consequences? How does a government retain power when it is unable to provide sustainable opportunity for its' citizens? How wide will the breach between very rich and very poor have to become before a re-distribution is thrust upon society? What kind of religious institution is it that fosters procreation knowing that starvation is the inevitable result? All of these are the problems of Mexico, and they are not being handled. The problems, if that's what you want to call human beings, simply disappear across the Rio Grande, and those left behind somehow seem to get along day-to-day.

There is nuance to the problem. Children borne in the US of A are, by stautory law, American citizens, and that is something which should not be changed, simply to deal with the problems Mexico is trying to toss into the American breadbasket. How then does the US of A deal with those who are illegal, who are the providers for American citizens?

There is complexity in the solution. It is unthinkable to separate families, as has happened in Africa (see Frodo's posting "Nkosi"). It is simplistic to suggest the deportation of millions of human beings without fomenting the collapse of civil behavior. It is a repeat of the Iraqi disaster for this nation, the "Citadel of Freedom," to even suggest imposing its' own values upon another sovereign state.

From the very beginning, Frodo suggests that this is Mexico's problem, and that, not unlike the "new Iraqi government," there must be consequences for inaction.

Were we to now depart from rational thought, Frodo could suggest that the United States effectively deal with the problems of border security and Mexican inaction by simply releasing 1 current resident of the Guantanamo facility into the province of Quintana Roo for every 100 Mexican citizens captured without proper documentation in the United States.

Frodo will however, leave the ridiculous to those making the decisions in Washington. They are making a big enough mistake by trying, once again, to solve somebody else's problems for them.

What happened to politicians who argued that we were not the world's policemen?

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:42 PM EDT

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Monday, May 21, 2007

I've Got Dreams to Remember
Mood:

crushed out
Topic: "The Silver Sow Award"(3)
Recently the very last "oldies" radio station in Greater Atlanta converted to Hispanic broadcasting. Frodo is quite upset, and it has absolutely nothing to do with Immigration Bills, illegal aliens, or Lou Dobbs. Frodo is upset because Venus Flytrap, Dr. Johnny Fever, Kasey Kasem, Dick Clark, Joey Reynolds, John R, Gary McKee, and the others are no more. There are not enough listeners to combat the talk radios, and the revitalized "Hambone" of the would-be gangsters who have stolen summer nights and the back seats of Chevy convertibles.

When Frodo was a halfling, he received a crystal radio set which he rigged up under his bed, so that he could crawl under the covers and listen to "Folk Music" being broadcast by WLS in Chicago. The name of Pete Seeger and flowers gone to graveyards every one became a part of what Frodo was to become.

A transistor radio followed and Frodo learned to move and do like this with Elvis and the incomparable Buddy Holly. Frodo could shuffle his feet and dance with anyone who passed him on the street, and how all kinds of people laughed, and danced with Frodo.

Frodo and the Fellowship would cram into motor cars, old and new, and sing love songs to girls who never knew that they existed. The Fleetwoods would call him Mr. Blue, but the Beach Boys gave him hope of beaches and waves. They would drive downtown, and look for some place that never closed.

Frodo had many long-range nights alone in his motor car, when only the magic of Nashville or New Orleans would guide him through the darkened landscape of Mississippi or Tennessee. WKBW, WLAC, WSB, WOWO, were sowewhere on the dial as he slipped from one 50,000 WATT'er to another while dreaming of one who waited on the other end of that voyage.

The demise of "WKRP in Cincinnati" on TV signaled the beginning of the end. Soon the morning shows on radio converted to easy listening, or country, or blather. Saturday nights were the last remaining outpost for the "Top 40" from the Summer of 1967, but now even they have fallen prey to the download to something vaguely resembling a tape recorder.

Johnny Fever said it best of all; "Booger."

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:00 PM EDT

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Sunday, May 20, 2007

There's An Old Man Sitting Next To Me Making Love To His Tonic And Gin
Mood:

bright
Topic: "Knew You Not Pompey?"(3)

A couple of thousand years ago, a bunch of guys, some political, and some merely transient on life's stage, decided that the Man who would be King had to be stopped. So they concocted to slay him. They were convinced that the society was threatened by a constant state of war, and that their mighty armies were too thinly spread to meet the growing threat from the frontiers of civilization. Always they talked of their admiration for Pompey, the great General who had brought true conquest and glory to Rome.

General Petraeus was not known to Frodo last year at this time. Within the past year, he has become the point of reference for the revised "strategy" which emerged subsequent to the Iraq War Study Group. Although a chagrined and chastened George W. Bush, flushed with electoral defeat, paid lip service to the bi-partisan recommendations, he has remained stubbornly steadfast with William Kristol, Richard Perle, and the remainder of the Academic Conspirators who refuse to admit their intellectual failure. Petraeus, with the prominence of Pompey, has been thrust by the conspirators into the role of Brutus, the honorable one who will strike the fatal blow.

Cassius, Casca, Trebonius and Cinna are still present, and they delight in the appointment of a "Czar," who will coordinate "strategy" for Caesar. In public they speak of "victory," while in private they blame Caesar for failing to implement the wisdom of the Senate. Knowing that Caesar will turn to the "Czar" when all is lost, and seek to place the fault therein, they have sharpened their ambitious knives in preparation for the inevitable. Afterwards, they will gather to bury Caesar, not to praise him. They will point to Petraeus as the progenitor of Caesar's demise, and they will rally quickly to support Marc Antony. Petraeus will retreat and soon, will be heard from no more.

The report is to come in September. Frodo, dear reader, looks to the Ides of March, with concern, and a truly heavy heart.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:49 PM EDT

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Thursday, May 17, 2007

Beginnin' To Think That I'm Wastin' Time
Mood:

surprised
Topic: "Bad Time for Bonzo" (3)

It was the Secretary of Housing and Urban Development, Pierce, who made it all the way through the Reagan Administrations; every other Cabinet Member fell by the wayside for one reason, or another. Frodo has been considering the survivors through one-and-a-half terms of George W. Bush, and (soliciting help here dear reader) all he can come up with is Elaine Chao, Secretary of Labor (and, coincidentally, the spouse of the Senate Minority Leader). Every other Cabinet player in the interminably long Administrations of George W. Bush with his finger on the nuclear button has turned over for one reason, or another. This comes to mind for Frodo, of course, because of the apparent positional execution about to take place in the new (and improved) Justice Department.

The Attorney General of the United States, who just happens to be Hispanic, has been potential toast since at least Cinco de Mayo. With the announced resignation of Paul Wolfowitz from his joke-filled tenure at the World Bank, the bookies in Las Vegas have been paying off on the 3-5 odds they were laying that "Bonzo Gonzo" would walk the plank first. With no apparent haste to eliminate any other member of the Cabinet, the movie "Dead Man Walking" seems to have been produced to document the closing days of "Bonzogate." Noted at this point is the fact that absent Brother Gates and Sister Rice (and, of course, Mrs. Mitchell), Frodo is unable to even identify any other Cabinet-level performer presently suited for action. The lone exception would be that clown Nichoilson at the VA, or whatever they renamed it while re-arranging the deck chairs.

Frodo has long resented the "reverse discrimination" of legacy appointments to America's largest universities. Despite all the racially-charged epithets about black people and "affirmative action," there never seems to be any complaints from the closet racists who think it is their cash-endowed obligation to see the George W. Bushes of the world take up classroom space that should've gone to some poor kid from Clarksdale, Mississippi. For that reason, Frodo is sorry that the one Hispanic in the Bush Cabinet has turned out to be even more incompetent in the performance of his duties than even the norm established for this the most incompetent of incompetents assembled for staff meetings and briefings at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. It was probably a set-up.

Even Barney doesn't stand too close to Gonzales. He's afraid that Cheney might be polishing his shotgun.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:15 PM EDT

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Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Our Goose Is Cooked, Our Reputation Is Shot
Mood:

on fire
Topic: "Talkin' Turkey" (3)

Frodo has indicated on numerous occasions that the entire premise of the Pre-Emptive War was based on poor analysis. Forsaking all reference to science, the theoreticians of the "New American Century" totally ignored the behavioral variables which negatively impacted on their desired course of action. Taking their flawed logic to a willing audience produced what many have referred to as the "greatest American Foreign Policy blunder." Frodo desires to spend a few moments this evening similarly projecting the outcome.

Sunni and Shiite Arabs have battled for nearly 1500 years over which interpretation of the Islamic progeniture is correct. The struggle has often been bitter and violent. It has never ended, it has only experienced lulls. That is variable number one.

With the end of World War II, the Ottoman Empire suffered for its' support of the defeated Germans. The Empire found itself nestled into what we now know as Turkey, and the imperial outskirts became the newly-enfranchised Arab and Persian states, one of which was dubbed "Iraq." There are no Iraqi peoples. That is variable number two.

The British assumed responsibility for the implementation of this "New British Century," and promptly embarked upon a process of training the Arabs to defend and govern themselves, under a model designed by, and for the benefit of, the British Empire. These stalwart scions of colonialism failed to assess the religious influences present in these newly-drawn and strangely shaped little countries. Absent governmental institutions, it was religious and dictatorial influences which assumed eventual control throughout the region. That is variable number three.

Taking these three variables, recognizing that they in no way represent all of the potential factors which will come into play in the days before us, it is logical to build a sentence or two just based on the facts. Such a sentence may read thusly; "Religious institutional leadership will emerge over the governmental institutions and violence will continue as homogenous groups draw closer together."

Given the sentence just composed dear reader, let us summarize what will happen when the American military presence follows in the footsteps of the British, the Russians, and the Crusaders. The Shiite militias will unite to bring down the "Iraqi Government," and the Sunni minority will be subjected to the next Holocaust. Iran and Iraq, Persian and Arab, will bring pressure against Sunni-dominated states like Saudi Arabia and Egypt. A balance-of-power will be achieved only by armed conflict and its' threat. The result will assumedly produce economic disruption in all of the world's industrialized nations.

Frodo is certainly brash in this pronouncement, even if the logic is based on behavioral variables, which represents a little bit of science. What is frightening is that there are those, equally brash, who base their pronouncements on the wind. What makes anyone think that there will be no bloodbath if American troops stay in Iraq one more day, or forty more years? The bloodbath is coming, and it will be religious, not political, and that is what makes all of the cost, all of the human waste, so very tragic. It is waste.

How does George W. Bush sleep at night?

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:34 PM EDT

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Monday, May 14, 2007

Watch Me Now, Work, Work
Mood:

cheeky
Topic: "Sperm Count" (3)
The following is a true story. It will make you laugh on even the darkest of days. Frodo's grief is shattered by the laughter of good times, and great friends.

Boromir and Galadriel wanted children. They were young, healthy, and very physical. Try as they might, they kept coming up with pleasure sans results. Boromir was, at the time, a US Navy pilot who taught younger pilots how to fly newer and more sophisticated jets. Boromir was the first warrior known to Frodo who actually landed jets on aircraft carriers (the one feat which Frodo never had any interest in even attempting). The assumption therefore, was that perhaps Galadriel had a problem that was preventing the desired pregnancy.

Galadriel saw her physician and arranged a battery of tests. The results showed that she was normal in every respect, and that there was no physical problem. The corollary was, therefore, that the problem must lie with the super-hero.

Boromir was directed to the local VA Hospital & Clinic for appropriate testing. For those of you who may never have seen such a facility, the waiting area, probably about the size of a basketball court, is where patients were registered then remained sitting until their names were called. What Boromir hadn't counted on was how the testing was to be administered. Wearing his "dress whites," Boromir sat patiently while patients were directed, in turn, for treatment by a rather large and imposing Nurse with a very dark complexion. She would stand up in the middle of the registration area, call the patients name, and the purpose of the visit, probably to ensure proper identification. For example, she might have called "Frodo, eye test."

Imagine the call "Boromir, sperm count." Every head in the place, and there must have been hundreds, turned to the middle of the floor to see who was going to have his bunny whacked. Again, the leviathan screamed "Boromir, sperm count," but still Frodo's friend sat motionless, perhaps playing hard-to-get. "Boromir, sperm count," again she screamed, "Come on now darlin'." By now, Boromir was in a classic re-enactment of de Tar Baby, as he thumbed apparently disinterested through a four-year-old copy of Newsweek. "Boromir, sperm count," she screamed even louder, if possible, drawing the attention of every person within the VA campus, as Boromir strolled inattentively through the door and out of the building.

That evening, Boromir pursued his husbandly duty with renewed determination. Nine months later, the Lady Eowyn was the product of that consummation. Glorfindel followed his sister less than two years later. Boromir explained over mead and ale on hundreds of occasions with Frodo and Sam that there was no better stimulant than the public humiliation avoided by his casual swagger going unidentified out that door. Galadriel always said that it was more like he knew he had to deliver or go back and face that Nurse behind a curtain on a basketball court with the stands jam-packed with cheering fans.

Frodo would've paid the price of admission, and handed out free tickets to ensure a sell-out.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:10 PM EDT

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Sunday, May 13, 2007

I'm Gonna Live Forever, I'm Gonna Cross That River
Mood:

lucky
Topic: "Just Another Day" (3)

Sometimes, reality deals Frodo a breath of loneliness. A friend, an inspiring person, someone to be admired, a part of Frodo, is no more. The loss of Galadriel is but the latest example, but doesn't it confuse you, dear reader, that Frodo felt better being alone than with those who could comfort his wound? In fact, Frodo knew that only if he was alone could he properly tell his friend good-bye. What follows in the morrow is that for which he has prepared.

Frodo went fishing, with Fiona and Mick, the Wonder Dog. Sam stayed behind in the Shire. Boromir and all of those directly connected to the light that was Galadriel prepare for the guests who come to pay their respects. Frodo would only "be in the way," so he went fishing.

Frodo was trying a new lure, and it seemed to work well. He landed several fish for inspection by his canine companions before they were released back to the depths from which they had been so unceremoniously plucked. The lure has multiple sets of barbed hooks, thereby increasing the likelihood that the fish would not only have hooks in his mouth, but would be snagged on another part of his anatomy. What has always bothered Frodo about such arrangements is that removal of several hooks may do permanent damage, necessitating the demise of the fish, and his subsequent consumption by the man who watches Frodo's place when Frodo is back in the Shire. This time however, Frodo noted his own sensitivity and patient caution in the handling of his catch, as if he were treating each as an individual, with a soul, perhaps.

The creatures are lovely, with necessary locomotive, digestive, protective, and respiratory functions camouflaged into a mixture of pale green and white designs handsomely wrought as if by Gauguin or Titian. Great care had been placed in this product, and it was only appropriate that Frodo take a few extra minutes to ensure the smooth transfer from captivity to freedom. Each time, the freed one would instantaneously revive and beat a hasty retreat, showing only a flash of tail to Frodo. What did Frodo expect? That the fish would turn and flash a smile of gratitude? No, Frodo knew better, and this is perhaps why the time alone was appropriate.

Frodo got to say good-bye to Galadriel, knowing that it is best to take one's time and send a captive soul to freedom with sensitivity and respect. Frodo does not expect to see his friend turn and wave good-bye, but he will think of her often; when his heart is gay and the waves on Lake Lovey are gentle in the breeze of Spring. What follows on the morrow is for Boromir, and how one warrior stands by when another is unable to fight on. This is, perhaps, just a bit of what friendship is, isn't it?

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:32 PM EDT

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Thursday, May 10, 2007

Walk This Way
Mood:

blue
Topic: "Galadriel Is No More"(3)
Frodo has written of the love between Boromir and the Lady Galadriel. Boromir of the Fellowship is a noble warrior (he landed airplanes on aircraft carriers for all the rest of you wusses out there), and a gentleman farmer. From the alien land known as Ioway he brought the light of his life to the Shire, and her gentle integrity spread all around, drawing Frodo and Sam as if they were moths pursuing a flame. Soon their union produced two halflings, the iridescent Beth and the inveterate Matthew. Frodo and Sam were privileged to watch them as they grew.

Life is not always fair or just, for savage diseases, undefined and incurable, strike without regard to honour or faith. Malignant Myeloma is a scythe that reaps those whom it befalls, and the shining light of Galadriel was dealt a tremendous blow far too early in her days. Courage is not limited to warriors however, sometimes it is a Mother who dreams only of seeing her daughter dance on her Wedding Day. So the battle began.

For many years, experimental methods, with names which include Interferon and others unfamiliar to the non-clinical ear, were the weapons used by she who fought the fight. Long after her daughter danced she challenged the Grim One, and lived a life filled with the finest of words, and that is Grace. She became a regular associate of yours, dear reader, and commented often on Frodo's fractured humor while laughing an appreciative song. She saved the postings thaat identified her as Galadriel, and Frodo believes she became a student of Lord Tolkien when Frodo told her that he believed the words were a re-write of the Book.

Of that now, Frodo will never know.

Goodbye sweet Dorothy. Arlin loved you so. Frodo is proud that he identified you, forever, as a beacon of light in the darkness. Sam and Frodo will be there on Monday next when the noblest of us all, goes home.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:30 PM EDT

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Wednesday, May 9, 2007

I Don't Need Any Money, Fortune or Fame
Mood:

hungry
Topic: "Caramel or Carmel?"(3)

The old Reading Terminal in Philadelphia, now a center for commuter trains to the Pennsylvania suburbs, now includes a Farmer's Market. Amish, from the counties around Lancaster, bring produce, handmade items, and baked goods directly to the consumer. Frodo, in earlier days, would spent countless lunch hour diversions from Mount Doom looking, talking, listening, smelling, and tasting. One day, while lusting after the baked goods, with a special emphasis on peanut butter cookies, he noted a familiar product; that which he had always known as a "Red Velvet Cake." Frodo entered into a discussion with a young lady half his age who convincingly argued that this was an Amish creation. Frodo had never really thought about it, he always just assumed it was something Bilbo had discovered in a cookbook.

Frodo previously discussed "buttermilk drops," and his introduction to that delicacy in the City of Orleans. His all-time favorite culinary creation however, is mentioned in his bio, and has been the subject of but a single query in these many postings. Frodo's curiosity about a southern writer, who happens to have grandchildren, was piqued when she mentioned that she, too, loves "caramel cake."

Caramel cake was first presented to Frodo by his Father's last surviving sister, the grand Alma, who spread a sugary, ready-to-die-for caramel covering over a white cake in a pan. The pan was probably a foot-and-a-half long, about a foot wide, and maybe three inches deep. She lived most of her life in West Virginia, and today exists in a facility designed for those without memory. She always made a caramel cake for Frodo's birthday.

After Frodo moved far away, Bilbo took over the assignment of caramel cake for Frodo, and Frodo swears that it was almost as good as that created by the grand Alma. Now Bilbo fixes things for Bilbo, and special treats for others occur only occasionally. Sam has all the talent and creative skill of the grand Alma, and the caramel cake which sporadically appears is no doubt touched by the Hand of God.

Sigh. Long time until the old birthday rolls around again. Frodo wonders if that lady in Mississippi would maybe like to split a caramel cake with her new-found friend?

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:35 PM EDT

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Tuesday, May 8, 2007

So Ferry Cross The Mersey
Mood:

suave
Topic: "State Dinner" (3)

"Mr President, my name is Mr. Frodo, my title is Chancellor of the Exchequer, and I am here at the suggestion of Mrs. Bush."

"So, what am I doing with the guy who used to run a grocery store?'

"Sir?"

"Well, you said you were the ex-chancellor at the checkout." The President snickers.

"No Sir, that means that I am assigned the task of ensuring propriety at State Affairs. For the White House Dinner, it is my responsibility to assist you with your, how do I say it? Your manners, Sir."

"Laura, what's this about my manners? Where is that woman?"

"Sir, no one is impugning your behavior, it is just that there are certain requirements which mean a great deal to the British people, and to make you aware of them would prevent anything implied as discourtesy, if you will."

"Well, I owe 'The Poodle' a great deal for helpin' me out in Irack, so I certainly don't want to do anything that might cause him a problem."

"Very good Sir, that's the spirit. Now let's begin with the tails on your tuxedo, shall we?"

"Okay, what's to know?"

"Sir, when seating yourself at the table, you should carefully place each tail to the side of your chair. Sitting on the tails will wrinkle them, or make them stick out at funny angles."

"Well we couldn't have that, could we?"

"Ah Sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Frodo?"

"Don't wipe your mouth with the tails, Sir. Use your napkin. It is so much more appropriate."

"Let me ask about all these forks and knives and spoons. I never have been sure about what to do after the salad fork. That is the one on the outside, isn't it?"

"Oh yes Sir, that's quite correct. However Sir, I strongly suggest that you not pick your teeth with the tines of your fork."

"Listen here Mr. Frodo. I'm from Texas, and we do understand manners. What I know is that you don't use a toothpick at the table. . ."

"That is correct Sir. Very good, but a gentleman will deftly use his napkin as opposed to a fork."

"The napkin again, huh? Anything else you can use it for?"

"Uh Sir, I do not suggest that your blow your nose into your napkin. The Queen would find that to be quite offensive."

"Well, now that we've covered the napkin, and the utensils, and I know the boys serving the dinner will do just fine, exactly how do I handle pushin' back from the table, and gracefully makin' my exit?"

"For God sake, do not fart at the table."

"Well you better let Rove and Cheney in on that one."

"Are you serious?"

"Listen here Mr. Frodo, I need to know if all you English boys got sissified by being in those boarding schools together?"

"Sir?"

"Well, we used to always say that the whole British Empire came crashin' down because the boys was all a bangin' other boys, if you know what I mean?"

"Sir!"

"Well, except for ole Churchill, of course. Then there's Liz's boy Charles, shoot, givin' his story, he'd fit right in with ole Newt and Rudy. I mean with Diana and everything."

"Sir, I strongly suggest that these are not proper items for discussion with Her Majesty during dinner."

"Shoot boy, I know that. My Dad told me he thought the old girl was going to pass out when he asked her if she'd ever had a real man."

"He did what?"

"Well, don't worry. I won't do anything worse than old Gerry Ford."

"I'm afraid to ask."

"He busted his zipper takin' a leak just before the Queen and Phil showed up. . . Hey, somebody get some water, this here Hobbit fella just fainted!"

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:45 PM EDT

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