Mood:  down

Bill Schneider, a Pooh Bear masquerading as a political commentator on CNN, was being grilled by Lou Dobbs a few days ago.  Frodo generally watches just enough of Lou Dobbs to hear him refer to the Bush Administration as "incompetent," thereby obtaining his daily fix, and then heads on to some other activity.  He heard something however that caught his attention, and his professorial analytical buttons all started to ignite.  Dobbs, whose "War on the Middle Class" and "Immigration" discussions inspire channel changers all over Middle Earth, queried Schneider as to why "Immigration" was not identified by New Hampshire voters as among their "Top 5" concerns.  "Because," said Schneider, "they weren't asked."

Dobbs was speechless, since he consistently refers to "Immigration" as one off the most discussed concerns by nearly everyone with whom he associates.  Schneider went on to explain that, in New Hampshire, a consortium of polling organizations had "honed down" the topics identified.  The pollsters had unilaterally decided that "Immigration" was probably not that big an issue, and therefore did not include it in the list made available to respondees.  Dobbs was ready to shoot somebody, and Frodo just stood there, shaking his head.

Dear reader, the scientist with whom most of us have the most frequent contact is the medical practitioner.  The "doctor" examines us when we don't feel good, and he, or she, does so by asking us questions and examining suspected sources for our discomfort.  Imagine, if you will, what might be the consequence if the "doctor" left out one of the "tests" which a conscientious diagnostician would automatically include in a routine examination.  Something, indeed, might be overlooked, if only to a single patient.  Why, then, would a professional pollster leave out something, and thereby risk a misjudgment of fact?

Frodo's analysis of the results of the New Hampshire Primary does not reflect anything beyond the numbers.  Projections for a close-to double digit percentage victory by Barack Obama were levelled by a single-digit victory by Hillary Clinton.  Given the fact that nearly every other aspect of prediction was "on the button," it is logical to concentrate entirely on the variance between these two candidates.  The "swing" between the "projection" and the "result" was approximately 20,000 total votes.  20,000 voters, in other words, did something other than what the pollsters predicted.  That represents about 4% of the total votes cast.

Frodo leaves the pundits as this point.  20,000 voters does not represent a lot of people telling somebody they would vote for a black guy, then doing something else.  20,000 voters does not represent total feminine outrage against an unfair process.  20,000 voters does not represent a significant presence, or absence, by any group of potential voters.  20,000 voters, to Frodo, represent the emotional swing that falls one way or another on any given day in any given election involving a half-million voters or so.  Could a "sob story" have produced enough empathy to have influenced 20,000 voters?  Would it not have been wise for the pollsters to have asked?

If those voters were black, or female, or Jewish, or Latino, among others, and they identified themselves with the discomfort of the candidate, the answer is "Undoubtedly."  Frodo adds, that in a multi-candidate environment, such as a Primary, the probability is increased by the potential lack of committment to any single candidate.  What may be true in New Hampshire, may not be the case when an election is "Mano-a-Mano" (with all due apologies to Non-Manos).

Tell me Frodo ain't the cat's pajamas when it comes to post-election analysis?  Tim Russert can eat his shorts.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:55 PM EST

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Mood:  smelly

Frodo has been thinking about what life would be like in the Shire once the Ring is destroyed.  These were the kind of thoughts he knew as a young Hobbit, when the future was the only thing in his pocket.  Crippling responsibilities and horizons which are no longer limitless require that he couch every such contemporary dream with the possibility of disappointment.  The enthusiasm he once offered for every morning ray of sunshine is now the satisfaction of a completed evening's voyage.  Such it is that requires he ask of each and every reader to purchase some "Handi-wipes" for future application.  A Great Day is at hand.

On that day to come, a colossal number of "Handi-wipes" will be required in order to erase every fingerprint, every footfall, and indeed every shadow from the house known as White.  "Cleanliness," it is said, "is next to Godliness."  No matter who assumes the role of Aragorn on that Great Day, it will be a monumental task to once again emulate Camelot.  The Maker will expect all of the Citizens of Middle Earth to participate in the douche of anything left behind by the Incomparable Moron.

Those who vote, whether or not in behalf of winner or loser, should wait until the final piece of furniture is loaded onto the last moving van, and then, in alphabetical order, commence to cleanse the floors, the rafters, the baseboards, and the toilets.  All of the bed linens should be soaked in bleach.  Every mirror should be examined to insure that no one can stand on the other side, unobserved.  Telephones and electrical switches should all be cleansed of any variety of "bug."

The Great Day cannot come soon enough.  Frodo hopes that his suggestion will also add to the stock value of the maker of "Handi-wipes."  The boys on Wall Street need all the help we can give them.     

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:09 PM EST

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Mood:  mischievious

The mountainous Hindu State of Himachal Pradesh, previously referenced by Frodo, is under siege, by monkeys.  Tens of thousands of monkeys live in and around the cities, protected by Hindu beliefs, and the consequences have included serious deaths and injury, to human beings.  The Deputy Mayor of New Delhi was killed recently when he fell off a balcony during an attack by 25 wild rhesus macaques (those are monkeys, for any reader from Texas or Alabama).  In a spate of bureaucratic ingenuity, a proposal has been put forth to deal not only with this problem, but with the more traditional problem in the area; that being chronic unemployment.

The State's Chief Minister has proposed that unemployed youths and retirees be put to work sterilizing monkeys.  Persons currently receiving government benefits, i.e. unemployment or a pension, would be trained in the capture and sterilization (utilizing "laser technology") by experts.  Despite protests from conservation groups and political opponents, who respectfully argue that sterilization might actually make some of the monkeys even more aggressive (or certainly a bit disappointed in the conduct of their human friends), Frodo has to admit that he sees some merit in the potential application to similar problems in America.

Throughout the American Southwest and Southeast, the casual traveler will observe a multitude of armadillo corpses alongside the road.  These gentle little marsupials are rather slow and clumsy as they spread throughout the region, and are frequently accidentally slain by motorcars.  Blending the concepts of putting the unemployed to work, and limiting the suffering by these cute little creatures, it certainly seems that there would be utility in training America's unemployed and retirees in capture and sterilization methods for armadillos.  Frodo proposes, therefore that, commencing 381 days from now, all American citizens qualified to receive either unemployment benefits, or a federal pension, be trained to capture and sterilize armadillos before receiving any benefits.

381 days, long enough for us to find something at which he might actually be proficient.  Maybe Arturo Gonzales can hold them down while he practices "shock and awe."

Frodo is actually going to miss not having the Incomparable Moron to kick around anymore (Not).

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 12:27 PM EST

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Mood:  cool

Frodo's grandfather lived to be 96 years old; as if anybody needed confirmation that "the good die young."  A life-long carpenter, he left his wife and eight children for reasons unknown to Frodo.  Frodo's father, then in the seventh-grade, left school in order to find work and to help support the family.  Frodo's father never had the opportunity to return to school, and it was certainly one of the great regrets of his life.  The Depression, the War, and then Frodo, following in sequence, dictated his priorities for the rest of his life.

Frodo's grandfather lived all alone in a small home in Virginia.  The living room and bedroom were the same, and the toilet was outside.  Despite all that had transpired, Frodo's father regularly visited, and Frodo very often went along.  At that time, Frodo never understood much about the situation, but he did have conversations with his grandfather.  In fact, when Frodo first met Sam, he took Sam along to meet his grandfather, and in their only meeting, Frodo's grandfather pulled out a banjo and proceeded to serenade Sam with the song "A Girl From Sunny Tennessee."  No one in the family knew that he could play-and-sing, much less that he even owned a banjo.

All of this is relevant today because Frodo's grandfather was an avowed racist.  Frodo remembers asking his grandfather why he hated black people so much, and he heard him say "Because they smell bad.  They don't bathe."  Frodo quickly assumed that a working man was most often around other working people, all of whom sweat, and that smell is accentuated in close quarters.  Perhaps, thought Frodo, that was the reason for his grandfather's misunderstanding of the facts, and why he felt the way he did.

One day, while Frodo's father and grandfather walked through the apple orchard in his yard, Frodo sat on his grandfather's bed watching the Washington Senators play the Baltimore Orioles on the black-and-white.  As they returned to the house, a commercial came on for "Irish Spring" soap, and the video featured a black man taking a shower in the rich lather of the sponsor.  Frodo, in his exuberance, pointed to the TV screen and said something to the effect that grandpa was the one who was "all wet," because right there was a black man taking a shower.  The look that his grandfather gave to him was, and is, indelibly etched in the mind of Frodo.  The face of hatred is something probably seen by all at some point, but the face of racial hatred is something experienced in a way like no other.  Frodo never brought up any discussions with his grandfather about such issues ever again.  Frodo attended his grandfather's funeral, and could not help but hope that what he represented to Frodo would also die and be buried with him.

Last night, Frodo watched something very important happen.  Above all else however, Frodo was struck by the most seemingly innocuous.  Chris Matthews, on the pre-election coverage, asked his panel of Pat Buchanan, Eugene Robinson, Howard Fineman, and the alluring young lady from "Air America" (whose name Frodo cannot recall at this moment), after all the hoopla and the predictions about the Iowa Caucuses had been completed, who each thought would win in a hypothetical presidential head-to-head contest vis-a-vis other contenders.  When posed with the question of "McCain-vs-Obama", each hesitated before stating "McCain."  It was if each was finding it hard to accept that the "feel-good" was real.

Hours later there is indeed something in the air.  Frodo likes to think it is the green aroma of Irish Spring. 

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:16 AM EST

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Mood:  quizzical

"Good Evening Mrs. Hudson, is Mr. Frodo available?"

"Of course Inspector LeStrade. I can hear him playing the violin, and I know that Dr. Sam is with him.  You can go right up to his room at the top of the stairs, with a "B" on the door."

"Inspector LeStrade, how are you?  And to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit this fine evening?"

"Good Evening Mr. Frodo, Dr. Sam, I appreciate you seeing me without having called for an appointment, but it is a matter of utmost urgency."

"Well, what can I do for Scotland Yard's premier Chief of Detectives?"

"Mr. Frodo, Scotland Yard has been asked to assist in the investigation of the assassination of Ms. Benazir Bhutto in Pakistan.  As you may know, the current government leader, Pervez Musharraf, was scheduled to run in opposition to Ms. Bhutto, and has been heavily criticized for inadequate protection for her, thereby resulting in her death.  The result being that elections have been postponed, and the influence of radical ideological elements poses a grave threat to the security of a nation with nuclear weaponry."

"Yes, I understand all of that.  Surely the greatest police investigative force in the World is up to such a challenge."

"Well, I'm not so sure Mr. Frodo.  It seems, and few people realize, that in 1951 a similar assassintion occurred in almost exactly the same spot, and despite the efforts of my predecessors, that case was never solved."

"I see.  You suspect a serial assassin?  Or perhaps someone merely copying the 'success' of a murder occurring 57 years ago?"

"I have no idea Frodo, that is why I came to see you.  I foresee great obstacles to be thrown in the path of the investigation, and felt that. . ."

"Perhaps I could operate out of the public eye and discover the true facts?"

"Exactly."

"See here Frodo."

"Yes Sam?"

"Don't you think Scotland Yard is perfectly capable of mucking this up on its' own?  Why should you imperil your reputation when this whole 'investigation' is merely a set-up to fail?"

"Your point is well-taken Sam, but as Englishmen we owe our service to the Queen, and right now she needs our assistance."

"Thank you Mr. Frodo."

"Not at all Inspector.  Come Sam, let us allow Inspector LeStrade to go back to his duties, and we'll make preparations for our train ride to Islamabad."

Some time passes.  Scene shifts from 221B Baker Street, to the Dining Car of the Darjeeling Express.

"I say Frodo, do you think we will ever get to Pakistan?"

"No Sam. I truly do not.  You see, I expect that those responsible for the assassination of Bhutto will never allow us to get into Pakistan and, assuming my deductions are correct, will try to do so on this train."

"You do?  Frodo, why haven't you shared this with me?  Do you have any suspects?"

"Patience old boy, I did not seek to alarm you and perhaps thereby alert the culprits to our awareness of their dastardly plan."

"I see.  Well Frodo, what do you suggest we do?"

"Finish your dinner, dear Sam.  Don't miss the curried shrimp; they are divine."

END OF PART ONE, TO BE CONTINUED

Gives you something, other than the results of the deliberations by one-sixth of one percent of the American electorate, to look forward to when next you visit.    

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:04 AM EST

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Mood:  lyrical

Selma Alabama is the daughter of one-song-singer Lee Roy Festus.  She is the performing idol of every pre-teen-age white girl with a fear of zits, and is commencing a World Tour, dubbed by Frodo as "Madonna in a Training Bra."  Parents everywhere are suffering considerable effort, if not expense, in order to obtain tickets to nearby concerts in behalf of their offspring.  Frodo, who has attended a concert or two in his time, although he cannot recall a single instance in which admission was paid by someone other than himself, does remember skipping meals in order to finance admission to see The Rolling Stones.  Perhaps this is why he examines the phenomenon of "Charity Auctions" and other such extreme measures to provide gift tickets.  Has the concept of lemonade stands disappeared from the American lexicon?

Apparently, much more than hard work has changed in recent days.  It seems that one enterprising Mother, frustrated by her inability to obtain tickets for her pre-teenager to attend a Selma Alabama performance in her hometown, entered a contest in order to win tickets to said concert.  The contest was to select the best essay to support "Why I Should Win Selma Alabama Concert tickets."  Writing on behalf of her daughter, the Mothers' essay began, "My Dad was killed in Iraq. . ."  Needless to say, the winning entry was an easy selection, except for the fact that it was not true.

Imagine the chagrin, and perhaps the lesson learned, of the young girl, when it was announced that her Mother's bald-faced lie meant that the tickets were canceled.   Imagine further the message conveyed by the very defensive response of the Mother who stated publicly that "Extreme measures are often called for under emergency circumstances." 

Just like 9-11, Frodo supposes.  Perhaps Plato was correct, after all.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 11:36 AM EST

Updated: Monday, December 31, 2007 12:07 PM EST

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Mood:  not sure

Frodo has just returned from what developed to be a second trip to Bilbo's bedside.  The first trip was in response to a case of pneumonia and requisite hospitalization, followed by the need for Frodo and Sam to arrange in-home healthcare for Bilbo's return.  Despite the travails resulting from the poorly-marked trail to wellness, Frodo and Sam were able to safely return to the Shire for a dose of normalcy.  Having previously planned for an excursion to observe the cetacean masters of the universe, Frodo and Sam were able to swing through and visit Bilbo on the way home to the Shire.  What they had not planned was for Bilbo to again require hospitalization.

Colitis is similar to an auto-immune disease in that it often develops simply because the body is fighting what it perceives to be an alien presence.  The colon becomes the battleground where white blood cells, in this case, confronted the vast amouint of antibiotics pumped to the forefront of Bilbo's struggle against respiratory difficulty.  On Christmas Eve, Bilbo was struck by excruciating pain which required the assistance of the proud public servants of emergency treatment, and hospitalization. 

Hospitals are not fun places to begin with, but Christmas Eve in rooms waiting for test results is punishment.  When finally the diagnosis was made, Bilbo was admitted to the hospital, and remains there to this moment.  Frodo however, has more than one battle to fight at a time, so his presence was also required back at the Shire.  Arrangements had to be made within his family for others to sally forth and be there to help Bilbo through the treatment phase, and to re-establish Bilbo's homecoming.  Before he left, Frodo received the bill for the first of Bilbo's hospitalizations.

For basically one week of service, Bilbo's insurance was billed for more than $40,000.  10% of the charges were for "Other Services."

After Frodo's heart started again, he was pleased to note that insurance covered all but $500.  This figure would not require the sale of Bilbo's residence, but Frodo did not merely breathe deep and express gratitude for what was a "close call."  Rather, he began to get just a little angry that a figure of more than $4,000 could be treated as "other," and not be identified item-by-item.  Frodo also noted that $40,000 was more than Frodo's father had ever made in any single year.  Without careful and gratuitous planning, Bilbo would not only be facing physical worries, but the finances would make recovery almost beyond the realm of reason.  

Frodo once joked to Bilbo, upon the purchase of a personal computer and teaching Bilbo how to use it only to discover that Bilbo had never learned to type, that going over the same things with Bilbo again-and-again was payback for the potty training that Bilbo performed on behalf of Frodo.  The reality, as opposed to the humor, is that Frodo also has to deal with financial concerns in the same manner as did Bilbo when the unknown expenses of education and maturation lay before young Frodo.  Money, Frodo supposes, is something that none ever completely escape as a concern.

This morning, Frodo listened to several political candidates talk, at length.  He paid close attention to any comments reflecting upon his increasing personal familiarity with the realities of healthcare.  Mixing the reality of need with the votes of the electorate has foiled many capable political leaders during Frodo's lifetime.  The fiscal problems increase over time, and the potential for personal tragedy grows as more and more follow in the footsteps of Frodo.

Bilbo could return home today.  Bilbo will not be able to continue that lifestyle indefinitely.  That, however, is another problem.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 12:47 PM EST

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Mood:  sad

Every once in a while, Frodo learned, it is important to admit an error.  Despite the reasonable assumption that Benazir Bhutto was nothing more than Ahmed Chalabi in a swirl of skirts and scarves, the truth is that she was, indeed, much more than what Frodo declared.  Her assassination left a gaping hole in the political landscape of what is truly a tinder box among nations.  Despite all her weaknesses and foibles, Ms. Bhutto was a symbol of non-totalitarianism in a part of the world where people are evidently simply trying to live lives as they see fit.  Frodo overlooked that fact, and for that, he is truly embarrassed.

John Fitzgerald Kennedy, in purely historical terms, was a philanderer who made monumental mistakes.  He accomplished very little, and he openly consorted with organized crime figures while serving as President.  Despite all that, he inspired a generation to devote their energies in service to their country.  His death championed an unparalleled surge in domestic legislation which the oldest democracy on Earth had failed to implement.  He was, it seems, not much different from Benazir Bhutto; easily subject to criticism in practice, but inspirational in theory.

Frodo is ashamed of his cynicism.  Perhaps the madness of the Incomparable Moron, and the incompetence of the puppetry in Iraq clouded his jaded eyes.  In any event, Frodo laments the death, nay, the passing, of a courageous and inspirational leader.  Pakistan, and all the world, is poorer tonight.   Frodo hopes that from the loss there springs a consequence of greater value to the community of Man.  

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:51 PM EST

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Mood:  special

Frodo took a position to port, assured that the grays and humpbacks would rise to either side during his catamaran voyage off Puero Vallarta.  Holding his CANON digital as if he were a modern-day Ishmael, straining against the Sea of Cortez, he saw them rise and spout a fine spray on the starboard side.  With so many other Citizens of Middle Earth aboard, he kept his post, waiting for the unobstructed view sure to occur and thereby document this, his searched-for moment.  The tail of one rose high into the air, again on the starboard side, and he learned that a dive would follow which meant that this whale would be deep underwater for many minutes.  Still Frodo remained patient.

Then, it was there, the grayish-green fin followed by the twisting torso, as this, the largest of all creatures, raced alongside and close enough for Frodo to get a trophy.  Frodo paused, curious that it was much smaller than he anticipated, and his personal observation was much more important than an unexplainable photograph.  Astern he heard the shouts of those aboard the speedboats manned by the wildlife officers of the Mexican government.  As their boats paralleled Frodo's course, the Captain of the catamaran slowed, and turned to starboard.  The announcement came from the Captain that Frodo's sighting was that of a baby whale and, that for the safety of one still learning how to swim and breathe on his own, we were pulling away and that the Wildlife officers were going to escort the young one until his Mother pulled close once again.  Frodo's picture was lost for this day.

Frodo was not disappointed.  He did however, learn the Spanish word for "bathroom."

The next day, on the beach at Mazatlan, Frodo met some men who had rescued a cache of sea turtle eggs from a marauding mammalian.  With several of his newly-discovered friends, Frodo learned that there were 175 hatchlings, and that they were about to be released into the sea.  Frodo and his friends, it was offered, could each take one hatchling and launch them side-by-side in a race to the sea from a common point.  Frodo was among the first to select and to spend some quality time with his entrant.  As Frodo examined his prize it was learned that, statistically speaking, only one of the racers would likely survive to adulthood.  Suddenly, the idea of a race was not so important.  Pelicans began to gather and lift off into flight in our direction.  Frodo, and the lady standing next to him, who Frodo believes was from California, both walked to the water's edge, waiting for no man, and each hurried a little sea turtle into the surf.

They stood in silence for several moments.  

"I named him 'Fernando,'" she said to Frodo.

"I hope he makes it, too," said Frodo.  "I named mine Barack."

She smiled at Frodo, and said, "Because he's catching up from behind?"

"No," said Frodo, "because he's the one."      

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 12:12 AM EST

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Mood:  lucky

Gregory Peck was Atticus Finch.  Gregory Peck will always be Atticus Finch.  For anyone else to portray Atticus Finch would be borderline sacrilege.

Gregory Peck was Captain Ahab.  Gregory Peck will always be Captain Ahab.  For anyone else to portray Captain Ahab, it could only be Frodo.

On the morrow, Frodo and Sam travel afar to the lands beyond Rohan, and then to set sail beyond Don Diego's California for the waters where the largest creatures on our small blue planet annually gather to mate.  Although the season begins in January for the Humpback Whale, Frodo is a prisoner of time, and so he hopes that there are mammals other than himself seeking to strike fast, and often.  Frodo has never seen a whale, so this is an opportunity to unite the largest, and the smallest; the strongest, and the weakest; and for at least one of the two to recall Melville's greatest of opening lines.  Although there are no harpoons in Frodo's dream, he will watch closely for anyone who calls himself QueQueeg.  Many hours ahead of himself, he can taste the salt spray on his tongue and winces while imagining its sting in his eyes.

"Oh Ye White Whale."

Once ashore, Frodo and Sam will spend Christmas with Bilbo.  The gifts exchanged will be as portrayed in the commercial; priceless.  Then Frodo and Sam will return to the Shire, rested, but full of guilt.  Fiona and Mick, the Wonder Dog, will have spent Christmas in "Jail."  So soon after the recent flight to Bilbo's side necessitated a prior sentence, the eyes of the faithful companions were downcast and full of holiday gloom.  Frodo noted after the conclusion of the most recent sentence that the muzzle of Mick, the Wonder Dog, was much grayer, and that he slept an unusually long spell afterwards.  It took him several days to return to his regimen.  Sam noticed it, too.

Life, Frodo supposes, is best defined as freedom and captivity, if not as joy and sadness.  Aye, but the wind will blow, and Ahab will steer a course in pursuit of the White Whale, and just maybe, he'll sing along with Bing Crosby and hold Bilbo's hand.

May your Christmas, dear reader, be as full.  Until Frodo returns, refreshed, and full of hope. 

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:28 PM EST

Updated: Friday, December 14, 2007 9:07 PM EST

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