Mood:  hug me

Prissy entered Frodo's life in the home town of country music.  Strangely enough, she seemed to look the other way whenever Frodo warbled the words of Hank Williams or Johnny Cash.  It was as if she had heard all the country music she could stand, and there had to be something more appealing.  It was about that time that first she noticed people wearing hats.

Driving along on any downtown street, small town or big city, Prissy seemed to notice black people with floppy hats.  In those days floppy hats were the fashion to go along with the defining notes of disco, and Prissy took exception to the dictates of the moment.  Sitting alongside Frodo in his motorcar, she would rise up and raise holy havoc with any passer-by who fit her definition of fashionably egregious.  Frodo suffered many stares of anger from innocents startled by a combination dachshund and beagle under his titular control.  Frodo learned to accelerate from stoplights at a rate which would bring envy to anyone name Earnhardt or Waltrip.

Despite her concern with appearances, Prissy seemed to enjoy the soft and melodic tones of soul music.  She would sit upright far back in the passenger-side seat of Frodo's motorcar, and grin ear-to-ear whenever Johnny Mathis or Marvin Gaye told her that they dreamed of her at night.  The country girl had found something close to her roots, but different enough to open doors she'd never before considered.  Prissy was a lot like America after Elvis came along.

One night Frodo and Sam found Prissy on her side breathing each breath as if it would be the last.  Although she was well up in her teens, she'd been in for her physical but a week before, and was pronounced in good shape.  Driving his motorcar as if every second counted, Frodo carried Prissy into the emergency facilities of his veterinarian, whom Frodo long ago dubbed "Dr. Two Porsches."  The doctor fitst checked her blood and turned to Frodo with an astonished look, saying "Mr. Frodo, your dog is diabetic."

Reminded that her blood had been checked but a week before, and was found normal,  the two-leggers merely stared at one another.  Then Prissy began to gag.  In a matter of seconds she began to throw up the most beautiful purple mixture all over the tile floor of "Dr. Two Porsches."  As Sam cuddled the now spent canine, Frodo and the doctor looked at the product on the floor.  "Blueberries," he said, "she devoured a ton of blueberries."  Sam and Frodo both recalled the disposition of a baked product they had ben unable to finish.  The little beggar had made her way into the garbage and devoured the entire pie.

As the relieved family headed home, it was Fats Domino on the radio, and they all joined him in the chorus.  Frodo thinks of that little dog to this day, and he remembers how he found that thrill.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:15 PM EDT

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Mood:  energetic

Frodo has been considering the similarities between sports and politics.  This came to mind when he realized that, for the first time, a political candidate is a walking advertisement for a major college sports presence.  If all other factors were equal, given the predisposition to college football in the American South, it would seem quite likely that all of the popular vote in and around Tuscaloosa, Alabama, would go to Senator O'Bama!  Of course, there would also probably be a great deal of resistance to his candidacy in and around the plains of Auburn.

Mitt Romney had to have been a cheerleader.  Frodo delights in making mockery of Romney's multitudinous positions on the same issues, depending only to whom he is speaking.  Frodo's best impersonation of Mitt is when he stands, hands on hips, and begins to chant "Lean to the left, Lean to the right, stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight!"  

The "cuts" are already beginning from the try-outs for the Presidency.  Tommy Thompson has acknowledged a lack of traction in his campaign, as have Duncan Hunter and Ron Paul on the Republican side of the ledger.  Democrat Mike Gravel is increasingly less visible; which means that he is almost invisible.  For these players there is no "Junior Varsity" to snap them up and develop them for the next political season.

Football coaches spend countless hours examining video of practices, previous games by their opponents, and reviews of their own just concluded games.  This allows the development of "stragedy," and a "game plan" so that "victory" is assured.  That does sound a little bit like a speech by a football coach who hasn't won a single game, or a failed President, doesn't it?  Frodo has developed an acronym for the political party which constantly seems to foster this approach to the future.  He calls them the "GIP."

The "Good Ideas Party (GIP)" gave you the "domino theory," when they told you that if you didn't confront Communism in one country, then you were bound to observe all their neighbors falling like dominos.  The GIP advocates tell you that single-payer universal healthcare is "socialized medicine," and that you should put your faith in private insurance, although that has never even been tried anywhere ever before.  Hey, it's a "good idea," isn't it?  And what about bringing "freedom" to the Middle East, hasn't that been really been another GIP?

What concerns Frodo the most about all of this is that our team is now facing a very severe challenge from an undisciplined, small cadre of dedicated athletes.  They have no money, few places to practice, and none of the equipment we have, but they are beating us up and down the field.   They win because they have better coaching.     

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:12 AM EDT

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Mood:  vegas lucky

One thing that we all share, dear reader, are seminal moments in time.  There is a point where each of us realizes that we have reached a new plateau, and that the time remaining will be different from the time past.  Frodo remembers a night, 30 years ago this month, when his youth was no more, and he was rudely delivered to the next level of his life.  One of the truly creative masterpieces in the American art form was no more, and suddenly, Frodo was much older.

One of Frodo's fellow Hobbits had a spouse attending Middle Tennessee State University in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, and when it was announced that Elvis Presley would be performing in concert, she asked Frodo and Sam if they would like tickets.  Frodo would have taken out a second mortgage on his house, had he one at the time, because the opportunity to see "The King" in person was an opportunity both rare and spectacular.  To this day, both Frodo and Sam attest that it was the single best "show" "concert" "exhibition" that either have seen, and that is not faint praise.

It opened with "Also Sprach Zarathustra," familiar to those who knew the movie "2001:  A Space Odyssey," and continued all the way to the "Elvis has left the building," announcement once he exited the stage.  He must have received 50 bouquets of roses from dauntless female admirers, and handed out at least a dozen kerchiefs from around his neck to those who risked life and limb to rush the stage.  He performed almost every song Frodo could sing with him, and he entranced an auditorium of those who were already convinced that they were in the presence of something truly unique, and yes, dear reader, truly great.

In tribute this evening, imagine yourself in a motorcar, Frodo (looking a great deal like Anthony) is driving, and you are one of the "Designing Women" driven home from Memphis to Atlanta late at night, and the radio is playing, just for you. 

For any male readers, kiss off, you'd never understand.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 7:44 PM EDT

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Mood:  accident prone

Frodo proposed doing something a little bit different this evening.  It was Frodo's suggestion to offer a brief commentary which, because of the format, would be even more nonsensical than most of his creations, then to simply quote the information which is the subject of this missive.  There is very little left to say once these facts are presented.  Frodo, however, has an impish quality which is enhanced by the mind-numbing stupidity of the most intelligent creatures to ever walk our small blue planet.  Apologies beforehand Merry and Eowyn, and others girded for battle, humor is required when  minds such as these are at hand.  Pretend that it is merely James Thurber proffering his battle plan in the wars of his writings.

"The Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary (Nashville) offers coursework in Greek and Hebrew, in archaeology, in the philosophy of religion, and--starting this fall--in how to cook and sew.  One of the nation's largest Southern Baptist seminaries, the school is introducing a new, WOMEN ONLY (capitalization added without charge) academic program in homemaking--a 23-hour concentration that counts toward a bachelor of arts degree in humanities.  The program is aimed at helping establish what Southwestern's president (anybody wanna wager on which side of the battle of sexes is represented by the institutional leadership?) calls biblical family and gender roles (Oh Merry, while you're up would you cut Frodo a slice of rhubarb pie?).  Coursework will include seven hours of nutrition and meal preparation (farewell to 'Hamburger Helper'), seven hours of textile design and 'clothing construction', three hours of general homemaking (Eowyn, Frodo seems to have tracked some dog poop into the living room, can you clean it up?), three hours on the 'value of a child, and three hours on the 'biblical model for the home and family.'"

Even impish Frodo could not make fiction stranger than truth when neolithic hodads offer him so much material for pure satire, with just a dash of disgust.  Frodo would make a contribution to her campaign effort if Hillary Clinton would enrol.  Bill could take in the Grand Ole Opry while the former First Lady pulled the underwear of President Paige Patterson up over his head and tied the waist band into a knot up above his head.  It would take a miracle for him to ever walk upright.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:52 PM EDT

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Mood:  irritated

Getting angry doesn't do anyone any good; as Satchel Paige once said, "it agitates the blood."  Frodo is tempted by the Ring from time-to-time however, and he can't help but wish evil thoughts, even on the hopelessly vexed.  Former Governor of Massachusetts (or someplace that harbors a college that matriculates idiots known as "legacies") Mitt Romney has gone public with something that makes Frodo's blood stream a bit agitated.  It has to do with Romney's five sons, and their service to our country.

Romney said today that his five sons are serving our country by working for his election, in contrast to those who choose to serve our country by joining the military, and putting their sacred life, honor, and fortune on the firing line.  Romney had the unmitigated gall, and impudent judgment to compare sacrifices such as PFC Jesus Fonseca, whose funeral Frodo attended, to the children he protects from harm's way.

How does a character like Romney look Senator James Webb (D-Va) in the eye?  Romney, even if he is a decent man, will obviously say whatever it takes to get himself nominated.  Frodo truly hopes that he does get the Republican nomination for the Presidency.  Frodo truly believes that he would not only fail to carry Massachusetts, but he would even lose in Utah.  Mike Gravel, for the love of Pete, would even defeat Mitt Romney.

Frodo stops for a moment, and looks away from Mount Doom toward the Black Gate, where so many in arms are gathered.  Frodo knows they depend on him and Sam.  It gives Frodo the strength to turn upward again, knowing that so many lives depend on the destruction of the Ring.  Mitt Romney, because he has no values at all, is an unwitting assistant in the struggle against his fellow Orcs.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:46 PM EDT

Updated: Thursday, August 9, 2007 9:12 PM EDT

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Mood:  special

"This is not sports."-- Jonathan Alter, NEWSWEEK, speaking to his two teenaged sons while watching the Democratic Debate in Chicago last evening; just after Steve Skvara uttered the following, "What's wrong with America, and what will you do to change it?"

"I congratulate Barry Bonds, and his family, on this historical event."--Henry Aaron, ATLANTA BRAVES, speaking on video to the throng in San Francisco who had just watched the 756th career home run  hit by the Giants outfielder.

Two moments in history, dear reader.  One will be chronicled as long as interest remains, and the other will be no more than a footnote.  Frodo has been contemplating the hypothetical this evening, wondering if he would rather be Barry Bonds or Steve Skvara.  If he were Bonds, he would have wealth beyond comprehension, and he would have an open door into any place he'd ever dreamed of being.  If he were Steve Skvara, he would sit across a kitchen table looking at the woman who had shared his life, thinking that now, when she needed him the most, he would be unable to provide basic care for her well-being.

A foolish question you say, dear reader?

Baseball has always been a part of Frodo, but right now he could care less.  He watched a good man last night, whose career ended in disability brought on by an accident in a motorcar.  The good man who had been promised a pension, and affordable health care for his service, watched his former employer collapse into bankruptcy.  All of the promises made dissolved, leaving him unable to either work or to provide for the good woman who had been with him all along.  With courage and emotion he turned his lonely eyes to those on the podium and asked them if they were Joe DiMaggio?

Frodo stood and cheered.  Steve Skvara hit a home run, and it went further and meant more than all of the tape measures wrought by the actions of Barry Bonds.   Jonathan Alter got it right, and his sons are fortunate to have a father so wise. 

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:55 PM EDT

Updated: Wednesday, August 8, 2007 11:19 PM EDT

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Mood:  suave

"Your assignment, 003.5, should you choose to accept it, is to determine what has happened to the pistols, AK-47's, and body armor which was shipped to Iraq for the use of the Iraqi Police Force.  You and your IM Force need to determine what has happened to the more than $4 Billion worth of weaponry.  The Defense Department has admitted to the fact that the weapons were simply 'distributed' in their haste to arm the Iraqis against the insurgency."

"Does that mean that we may have, inadvertently, armed those who have been fighting the Coalition Forces, M?"

"I'm afraid so, 003.5.  Now you'll need a complete briefing from Q about the make and models of the firearms so that you can initiate a proper investigation."

"Sir, might I suggest that we start by simply getting a list of the serial numbers. . ."

"I'm afraid that won't work 003.5, the military claims that they were under such time constraints that they were unable to compile a list of the numbers.  It would have taken too long to write down each serial number."

"I'm sorry M, but couldn't someone have merely listed the numbers on a portable computer while flying the arms into Baghdad from Fort Benning?"

"I'm not arguing with you 003.5, I'm telling you that this is what military intelligence has told us."

Agent Frodo, licensed to kill, was speechless.

Several hours pass.

 "Miss Moneypenny, has 003.5 left for Baghdad as yet?"

"Sir?  Baghdad?  003.5 had me book a charter for him to Roanoke, Virginia."

"Virginia?  Why?"

"He said that he was going to see a man about some guns."

"Get him on the telephone, and patch him into me, just as soon as possible!"

Several hours pass.

"Miss Moneypenny, any word from 003.5?"

"Just a text message from his Blackberry Sir."

"Well, what's it say?"

"I'm not sure entirely, but here's the literal message:"

'LOL 003.5, shkin not strd, wepuns in ctrl of NRA clrd by W.'

M looked up from the computer screen hoping that Moneypenny could explain some, if not all, of the gibberish in front of him.

Moneypenny squirmed in her seat, but offered a theory.  "Perhaps Sir, 003.5 is saying that he believes the weapons are now, with the President's approval, in the possession of the NRA?"

"The NRA?  What in the Hell would those lunatics want with all those AK-47's and pistols?"

"Look Sir, another message coming in, maybe this is important?"

'$cent, tell M NK 00's R @ 2 >$ NRA 4 wepuns.'

"Sir, I have no idea what this means.  Do you think Q could translate it?"

"No for Pete's sake, he's older than either of us."

"Another message Sir.  That's odd?"

"What's odd?  What's it say?"

"Virginia Tech."

End of message.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:14 PM EDT

Updated: Monday, August 6, 2007 8:57 PM EDT

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Mood:  on fire

It is extremely difficult to be funny when it is hot.

The greatest Southern writers were sometimes narrators, and sometimes participants.  They were often gothic, but mostly populist.  Occasionally they were entirely asexual, but usually they reflected every kind of sexuality in one form or another.  With the partial exception of the works penned by Mr. Clemens, the characters wore seersucker suits or cotton dresses, drank bourbon on the rocks or lemonade, smoked, and sweated a great deal.  Mr. Clemens of course, wore a seersucker suit, drank bourbon, smoked, and probably sweated while he wrote of Brother Huckleberry and tramps abroad.  The tales produced by Southern writers were dramatic and involved, but rarely amusing.  Mr. Clemens, it is noted, wrote much of his work in Connecticut and in travel status.

To the best of his knowledge, Frodo has no latent sexual issues.  Frodo's relationships with his mother and his father have been traditional and unspectacular.  Frodo's personal appetites tend to chocolate, peanuts, and root beer (albeit in a frozen mug).  The result for Frodo's tales is that with these traditonal gaps sealed, and the record-setting temperatures coupled with expected levels of humidity, there is only sweat.  Bead-like, it falls upon wooden floors and lies there until a passerby decides that it needs to be removed from view.  It is very, very hard to be funny when the only thing one can produce is detritus.

On the morrow, after the Braves game of course, Frodo will sit in the gazebo and begin his gift book, "In Search of Willie Morris," and whenever he stops to contemplate a page past, he'll perform the annual task of fan design.  Revivals and funerals alike at this time of year require and inspire ornate as well as practical fans.  Anything pliable can be used to direct a breath of air toward those who endure days that remain in memory and experience long thereafter.  Days such as these do not inspire humor or creativity, just that which is necessary.  Frodo's words are proof, it is hard to be funny when it's this hot.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 11:15 PM EDT

Updated: Sunday, August 5, 2007 12:04 AM EDT

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Mood:  chatty

Joe Biden has no chance to be the next President of the United States.  The "nattering nabobs" who grace the black-and-white project him as a screen test for the position of Secretary of State in a sane and competent Presidential Administration.  Frodo would have no problem with that eventuality.  Although Frodo has always looked back upon the Senate Judiciary Hearings relative to the appointment of Clarence Thomas to the Supreme Court as one of the  truly comic moments, and Joe Biden's participation as borderline schizophrenic, he has great admiration for Biden's incisive awareness of the Middle East and its role on our small blue planet.  That is why Frodo pored over Biden's words earlier this week.

Who is responsible?  Joe Biden was saying that he felt supreme frustration over the fact that no one in the Executive Branch was willing to accept any responsibility for anything.  Nearly everyone, on every side of the issue, from whatever angle, concludes that the Pre-Emptive War has been conducted poorly.  By whom, asks Frodo?  Surely no one is alleging that the young men and women doing the fighting and the dying are not doing a good job.  If not them, then the next possibility is the military leadership.  Have our West Point graduates been as ineffective as the British during the American Revolution, unable to deal with "freedom fighters" with muskets fired from behind trees?  From top-to-bottom the conclusion seems to be that they just weren't alloted enough men and proper equipment to meet the challenge.  So, the military is not to blame, assumes Frodo.

Those who advocated, and called for, a military struggle in order to introduce democratic principles into the Middle East appear on talk shows to argue that the objectives were sound, but the execution was poor.  Bill Kristol, Richard Perle, Paul Wolfowitz, Douglas Feith, are adamant that the War was just, that it serves the purpose of the United States, and that it is the only course of action that ensures our national survival.  They were right, they conclude, so therefore they are not to blame for the present internecine struggle.

The Incomparable Moron could not recall any mistakes he had made when so queried by Tim Russert.  The Secretary of State, the unaccomplished Ms. Rice, said that "thousands" of mistakes had been made, but once it became necessary to remove her foot from her mouth, she declined to be specific about the identification of the errors and who exactly committed any of them?   Cautious references to Donald Rumsfeld, Paul Bremer, George Tenet, Tommy Franks appear as miasma in conversation from White House staffers, but nobody says "this guy" did this, or didn't do that.  Nobody, and Frodo means nobody, says anything about anybody who is anything other than out of the present line of decision-making.

What grinds Frodo's butt is that when anyone points a finger, it is immediately bitten off by someone prepared to defend the pointee.  Those who advocate the impeachment, for example, of the Vice President of the United States are seen as far-leftie members of "MoveOn. org," who have no credible evidence other than their inherent dislike of Mr. Cheney.  Then the charges are answered by the "obfuscation" of attention-shifting assertions, and a new line of questioning by the befuddled.  In the end, no one is responsible.  This whole mess just happened.  That is, it could have been avoided if Bill Clinton hadn't lied to the Grand Jury about a blow job.

Dear reader, it happened because you weren't angry enough.  It happened because it wasn't your kids, brothers, husbands, going off to War.  It happened because we elected political leaders who knew how to campaign, and we accepted their inabilities.  Frodo will not conclude however with the over-used mantra that the enemy is us, he will simply tell you that the Atlanta Braves had a 9-5 lead in the top of the 9th inning last night, and gave up a grand slam home run to an unknown player from Houston.  They lost the game, although they fought back brilliantly, in the 14th inning, 12-11.  They lost because they figured they couldn't.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:16 AM EDT

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Mood:  smelly

Once upon a time, on a dark and stormy night, an opossum fully intimidated Mick, the Wonder Dog.  The memory of all those pointy teeth has had an impact on his continuing subsequent behavior.  It was not surprising therefore, when naught but an upraised nose and a wayward glance from afar took place while Frodo was retrieving the morning paper.  The object in the middle of the lane was obviously the detritus from a newpaper delivery person whose task at hand took precedence over his steering, and resulted in the corpus delicti of an unfortunate opossum.  Frodo had promises to keep, but fully intended to properly dispose of the remains upon his return from Mount Doom.

Tom Bombadil is a good neighbor.  Departing his residence just before Frodo, he noted the remains and planned also to take obvious action when the eve brought his return to the lane afront the Shire.  Therein lies this brief tale.

Tom arrived home and noted the corpse was still present in the middle of the lane.  He fetched his shovel and retreated to the plains just beyond the Gardens of the Shire to prepare a proper final resting spot for the unfortunate victim of Henry Ford's folly.

During this period, Frodo returned to the Shire and likewise noted that the task remained undone.  Frodo fetched his shovel and a plastic garbage bag.  Frodo scooped the remains into the bag, sealed it, and deposited it into the refuse can which was scheduled for pickup on the morrow.

A bit later, while Frodo enjoyed the product of Master Brewers in Wisconsin, the telephone rang and it was a very confused Tom Bombadil.  He inquired of Frodo if he had noted the presence of an opossum in the lane afronting the Shire earlier in the day.  When Frodo stated that he had, it was clear that Tom was both relieved and in awe.  He told Frodo of what he had observed and done, and noted that the game playing opossum had gone to great lengths to disappear into the Gardens of the Shire.

If Frodo had been a truly evil Hobbit, he would have parlayed Tom's confusion into a prolonged act of comedy.  Instead he had Tom meet him back at the burial spot, and he carried the sealed bag with him.  Together they returned nature's creation to its beginning.  Mick, the Wonder Dog, accompanied them and observed the entire affair.  When all was done, he sauntered over to the spot and promptly lifted his leg.  The lesson, perhaps, being that justice delayed tastes just as sweet.  

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 11:10 PM EDT

Updated: Tuesday, July 31, 2007 11:12 PM EDT

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