Mood:  bright

On the day that Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) declared his candidacy for the Presidency of the United States in Springfield, Illinois, Frodo ordered a Tee Shirt and two bumper stickers.  Frodo has subsequently contributed to the Obama campaign, and he intends to do so again.  It was Frodo's opinion on that day that this young man was "Lincolnesque" in both stature and in his approach to the world at large.  Frodo had already determined that Obama was both older than John F. Kennedy, and had more time served in the Legislative Branch than had Abraham Lincoln, himself.  Subsequently, Frodo determined that Obama was older than both Jefferson, when penning the "Declaration of Independence," and Columbus, upon discovery of a "New World."  Frodo decided at that moment that the issue of age and experience would be of no consideration in his advocacy on behalf of the Junior Senator from Illinois.

Frodo made the assumption that Obama was much more "electable" than any of his competitors, and he was somewhat taken aback when he received similar but contradictory comments from friends and associates supporting other candidates.  Frodo was concerned when many of those people who have stood with him in prior struggles were so vehement in their rejection of one about whom they seemed to know so very little.  Truly, Frodo looked back and questioned his own judgment, simply to make sure that his hope and faith for the future had not clouded his assessment, or his investment. 

Frodo did not know that John Fitzgerald Kennedy was the right guy for his time until he watched him on the podium on the day of his Inauguration.  It was not the words which Frodo long ago memorized, and recalls with tears in his eyes from time-to-time, but it was the reaction of the President when a young man came flying down Pennsylvania Avenue amidst the snow and the cold, on the back of a live buffalo.  Kennedy called him back, to return to the viewing stand, so that he could shake his hand, and pat the buffalo.  Kennedy smiled, he laughed, he applauded, as the buffalo took off at a breakneck pace to contnue the parade  and to delight an entire nation (except, perhaps, for anyone named Nixon).

Frodo was not there to make a similar assessment about Mr. Lincoln, so he doesn't have a long and distinguished track record in this regard, but today, he has the exact same feeling he had on that bitter cold day in January, 1961.  Frodo became aware of the Latin motto on the Obama Campaign Seal, which appears as the Topic in this treatise. 

Frodo was struck by the fact that so much of what we say, and read, and believe, is rooted in the classical Latin.  How appropriate it is to link the cornerstone of a political campaign to the very heart of who we, the peoples of Middle Earth, are each to one another.  Frodo's courage, taking the Ring as his personal curse, when all others seemed adrift, was matched by those who joined with him, and sacrificed so much in order to combat evil, no matter its' form.  Lord Tolkien would have used a similar translation, had he thought of it first. 

"Vero possumus."

Yes we can.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:34 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

Mood:  happy

Frodo is, admittedly, a ladies man.  There has always been a special appreciation for a well-turned ankle, a coy grin, or any of the other weapons in the feminine arsenal which for purposes of this treatise will now be known as WMD (weapons of masculine dissolution?).  Given this predisposition, Frodo has always been sensitive, not only to the feelings of women but to accomplishments in the face of odds which are beyond the calculating tools at Frodo's disposal.  There are, of course, selfish reasons for Frodo's apparently mature stand in behalf of the opposite sex.  Frodo, too, has needs.

Before digressing into another, more provocative, perspective on sexuality, Frodo wants to return to his theme, and talk about the difficulty that exists in treating all women equally.  Some women scare the mortal hell out of Frodo.  He is just as intimidated by certain aspects of feminine behavior as he would be by Michael Tyson staring at his ear and referring to him as a "jive-ass honkey."  In his attempt to explain his opinion, within the bounds of political correctness, Frodo has been paying very close attention to the television appearances of Mrs. Cindy McCain and Mrs. Michelle Obama.  Politics aside, Frodo wants to merely present the biases that have colored his perspective on both of these prominent, accomplished, intelligent women.  Frodo will do so in one paragraph, each.  Afterwards, Frodo may take a short hiatus in order to avoid further bloodshed.

Cindy McCain was a character in "The Stepford Wives."  She has lasers for eyes (definitely a WMD), and uses them to undress every man who steps before her.  Mrs. McCain founded the Junior League, and it is her intent to have every male drafted into the seraglio maintained to benefit its membership.  Frodo is reminded of the advertisement with Joan Rivers commenting on her own facelifts, which leave her without any feeling much less the capacity to determine whether or not she is herself smiling.  Cindy McCain never carries more than $50 in cash (to avoid disclosing any financial information in the presence of surreptitious agents of the US Treasury).  Lastly, Mrs. McCain appears as if she were the center post around which the tethered volleyball (her husband, while wringing his hands in a somnambulistic trance) wraps itself on stage.

There, Frodo has disclosed what he really thinks (any similarity between these words and those of Tucker Carlson of the tightly-squeezed knees is purely unintentional).

Michelle Obama has won a gold medal in each of the last six Olympiads.  She can run faster, jump higher, and shoot a basketball far beyond the dreams of the Hobbit.  When angered, a "fist bump" becomes a WMD which can remove teeth or terminate any possibility of progeny.  Mrs. Obama is an attorney for the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, and she is determined to prosecute every male who has ever even dreamed of becoming a supervisor.  She also intends to avenge her older sister, Anita Hill.  Mrs. Obama never carries a purse (keeping both hands free for "fist bump" purposes), and the Secret Service Agents in her retinue always walk behind her carrying plastic water bottles (in case her husband has an uncontrollable cigarette urge).

Frodo will now retreat in order to consider the more prurient aspects of the relationship between political candidate and first spouse.  Now, dear reader, do you understand why Frodo supported Obama, and not Clinton?    

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:04 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

Mood:  on fire

Last evening, after the obligatory fifteen-minute downpour, the darkening shadows brought forth an armada of lightning bugs.  The gardenias began to give way to the magnolias, and there was a mixture of aroma and humidity which had already given birth to Faulkner, Morris, Jones, Sams, O'Connor, Welty, and Lee.  Frodo had spent the day relieving weeds of their struggle for dominance, and the gallant Braves were still an hour or two away from the commencement of their battle with warriors from the west coast.  This night it was easy to understand why alcohol is a corollary to the written word and why people who don't drink are so boring.

Frodo favors certain light beers, in a bottle; a clear one seems to hold the temperate nature best.  Adding a slice of lime is a nice touch learned courtesy of his most recent visit to Mexico.  Vodka, but certainly nothing packaged in plastic, mixed strongly with Mr. Rose's lime definition gives Frodo the kind of sip that succors just such a summer's eve past sunset but before the darkness surrounds him.  These are the moments of sounds unseen, and aromas, aromas familiar for a million years and a million miles away to those fortunate enough to have been swaddled in cotton grown and processed just down the road.  

Frodo feels like talking, but Sam is exploring a contemporary who writes of murder and mayhem.  Mick, the Wonder Dog, does not hold up well in warm weather, and is kicking nervously into the night in pursuit of rabbits in his memory.  So Frodo is alone, with his thoughts of duties to be done, but time better spent merely peering into the darkness, searching for secrets.

Willie Morris is in the corner with James Jones, and they are telling stories about their times together in New York City, when they owned the world, and lived to tell about it.  Harper Lee and Faulkner are smoking cigarettes, and whispering, about what no one can hear.  Flannery and Welty talk with their neighbor Dr. Sams, and at least one of them knows she has finally found a good man.  Frodo waltzes among his guests, Sam in tow, and  refreshes their drinks, without saying a word.  Then, when the clock is prepared to strike, the party comes to a conclusion, the darkness settles in, and Skip Caray takes command of the night. 

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 1:46 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | View Comments (3) | Permalink

Mood:  sad

It must have been tough going down in that B-24, on fire, surviving the crash, but feeling the pustules form all over your back had to make you feel helpless.  You got through it though, with a little help from a lot of friends.

It must have been as if life was no longer worth living when she died, your life partner.  Two daughters and a loving son, and that unbelievably supportive hometown, were there to bring things back and let you find your way.

Time kept marching on though, and some changes had to be made.  You finally agree to move out of the old homeplace, in order to have closer attention.  Your sadness is masked by the people who keep coming by, checking on you.

Father's Day is upon you now, and you know that the kids will come together and bring the grandkids.  That's the best part, isn't it?

Well "Big Russ," you've certainly been dealt a pair of deuces in this hand, haven't you?  Losing your only Son, any child, has to be the cruelest twist of Fate's accomplices.

Frodo is shuffling around in the Gardens of the Shire this evening, and, not unlike Hobbits everywhere, feeling a little bit of self-pity for the disappearance from his black-and-white of someone whom he had never met; yet someone he had come to trust.  Frodo would like to tell "Big Russ" that he has every reason to celebrate the days he has had, but outliving your Son is something he cannot reconcile.

Peace, kind Sir.  Frodo weeps for you, you are never alone.   

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:35 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | View Comments (1) | Permalink

Mood:  energetic

Ted Williams, of the Boston Red Sox, ended the 1941 baseball season with a batting average of .406.  Since no subsequent Major League player has even approximated safely hitting a batted ball as much as 40% of the time, it is unsurprising that a record which has stood for 67 years and is only now somewhat threatened, is beginning to attract attention throughout the World of Sports.  Chipper Jones, of Frodo's beloved gallant Braves, has a batting average of .421, better than one-third of the way through the 2008 season.  Despite the accomplishment, the Fates have thrown all of their combined fury at his teammates, as player-after-player falls to injury-after-injury. 

True to character, Frodo recognizes that action must be taken.  Tonight he sent an e-mail to Bobby Cox, Manager of the beleaguered Braves, volunteering his services.  Frodo did this despite the fact that he was eligible to vote when the oldest current Brave was born.  Frodo would be the only member of the current Braves who actually had seen Ted Williams play baseball.  Desperate circumstances call for drastic action.

Tonight the gallant Braves are getting shelled by the Cubs from Chicago.  Chicago, as most know, is the community that only experiences two seasons annually, and that is, of course, both winter and the Fourth of July.  Rational people do not live in such climates, and those who do generally offer their wives as entertainment for weary travelers who must spend a night in the owner's igloo.   Perhaps that fact explains why the Braves are playing as if all their collective energies have been spent.  Things would, indeed, be different if Frodo were on the field.

Frodo envisions himself as the old-time ballplayer.  You know, dear reader, the guy who "takes one for the team."  Frodo would, when first at bat, lean out across the plate and suffer being struck by the pitched ball from the Cubs hurler.  Then, when Chipper hit the ball into the gap between outfielders, Frodo would cross the plate and score the first run of the game for the gallant Braves. 

The next at-bat, Frodo would diligently tap any pitched ball crossing the plate into foul territory.  Figuring that he would exhaust the opposing pitcher, and still attain first-base when the fourth pitched ball was called a "Ball," he would again score a run when the magnificent Mr. Jones drove him "Home."

This process would continue throughout the game, and since Frodo would step up to the plate probably four times, it would mean that the gallant Braves would have four runs in their column.  Unfortunately, neither Frodo nor Chipper can pitch, so that would mean that success would require similar action by at least seven others from the Fellowship, simply to match the total score amassed by the Cubs.

Perhaps Merry could crouch way down and present a strike-zone way too small for any pitcher to notch as many as three strikes.  Eowyn, from the Lands where the smallest still play baseball, could wring a synthetic tear afront the umpire and win his decision to award first base to one so sincere.  Where there is Fellowship, there is always hope.

Of course, it would also be nice if you had somebody who could pitch.  Maybe next year.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:01 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | View Comments (2) | Permalink

Mood:  down

The absence of intellectual curiosity, the lack of familiarity with different cultures, and the unwillingness to compromise, are what polite people say highlight the weaknesses of George W. Bush.  It goes without saying, dear reader, that George W. Bush has never earned anything.  The privileges of wealth gained him academic entrance, business opportunity, and political gain.  Frodo differs from the polite by his insistence upon his belief that Bush is a true moron. 

"Moron" is defined, in part, by Webster as "a very stupid person."  The very general nature of that definition gives Frodo considerable leeway in his assessment of the failures produced by George W. Bush.  Frodo asserts that Bush always did just enough to get by, knowing that he would be bailed out if necessary.  The "Iraq Study Group," for example, was called initially by Republican friends of Daddy Bush, like James Baker, to politely re-direct attention to some avenue of exit from the morass.  Junior, it seems, was too big for a spanking, but not smart enough to figure that out for himself.

Soon, this will all be behind us, or will it?  Frodo actually experienced a little perecardial infarction today when he discovered the standing of John McCain in his graduating class at the Naval Academy.  Among a class of 899, John McCain, the inheritor of a string of Naval Academy graduates, whose father was an Admiral, ranked fifth from the bottom. 

In his own mind, Frodo envisions McCain standing on the podium in St. Paul Minnesota, accepting the Republican nomination for the Presidency, while the enthralled chant (as opposed to "Four More Years'):

"894."  "894."  "894."

The only mystery left to the imagination would be the comparative standing of George W. Bush in the same class.  Frodo thinks it would've ended in a tie.  

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:00 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | View Comments (2) | Permalink

Mood:  not sure

At one time in earlier days, Frodo had dreams of the Foreign Service.  James Bond kind of foreign service that is, you know, shaken but not stirred.  Once he got serious about his future, and realized his true obligations, he never lost interest in "foreign policy," and has prided himself in often being a source of information for people who don't seem to let ignorance be an obstacle to the formation of opinion. 

Frodo once listened intently as a pilot for a large international airline went on and on about the future of Puerto Rico.  Since he flew into San Juan regularly he felt that qualified him to tell everyone else how to solve the problems at hand.  He felt, strongly, that the United States should simply give Puerto Rico their independence, since that was what the people wanted.  Frodo, after a sip of his wine glass, asked the gentleman if he spoke Spanish.  Frodo already knew the answer.  Frodo asked the gentleman if he was familiar with a particular political party in Puerto Rico.  Frodo already knew the answer.  Frodo then proceeded to explain, succinctly, to the gentleman that the fallacy in his suggestion was that he was assuming that the Puerto Rican people desired either Statehood or Independence.  Frodo informed him that approximately one-third of those people wanted to keep their present situation as a Commonwealth.  The result being that the Puerto Rican people were divided three ways, not two, in terms of what they felt was best for their own futures.

Frodo has made it a point to never again fly that particular airline.

Germany has more invested in the southeastern states of the United States of America, than the entire investment of the European Union in China.  Frodo knows that the motorcar manufacturers, and the real estate investors, and the chemical processors have made substantial investments all around the Shire.  The Germans, and the French, and the Dutch, and the Italians, and all the rest, have not found it advisable to build cars, establish plants, or buy real estate in China.  Nor are they buying tennis shoes, cheap textiles, or electronic games and toys.  Yet, the Chinese maintain a huge trade surplus, while the US of A continues accumulating a trade deficit.  It follows, logically, that the US of A does have an appetite for tennis shoes, computer games, and t-shirts.

Frodo is making a point here, dear reader, so your indulgence please.  His point being that the $4.00 average cost-per-gallon of gasoline, which will of course be outdated by the time this treatise is completed, is a reflection of the increased demand for petroleum products by countries who are cash rich(er) than the US of A, like China, specifically.

Frodo has a suggestion, taking political and economic reality for granted, and would like to submit it for your consideration, dear reader.  Why not simply ask the Chinese how plans are coming along for the Beijing Olympics?  Tell them, in so many words, that the US of A is really looking forward to kicking their butts competitively, and that thousands of Americans are planning to visit, while millions watch on TV.  That is, of course, if we are able to overcome our current economic malaise.

The word, dear reader, is leverage; oft used by Thomas Friedman, and almost everybody else who has no faith whatsoever in the Bush Administration.  Would it not seem logical, suggests Frodo, to simply point out to the Chinese that the current valuation of their currency to that of the dollar is out-of-whack, and that the situation has become so severe that the US of A may have to stay home?

Once the tar-stained fingers lit another cigarette, and beads of sweat formed on foreheads all across China, a suggestion could be offered to turn the tide even quicker than an oil tanker could reverse course in the Strait of Hormuz.  "Why not," suggests Ambassador Frodo, "ask your Treasury people to get together with our Treasury people, and set a new valuation to the dollar?"  Frodo would offer that decreasing the Chinese currency by, say, 50%, would mean that the Chinese would have to pay much, much more for petroleum products, and that would most likely mean that they would have to reduce their demand.  Ergo, the price of something with lessened demand falls.  At the same time, the US of A would be paying a whole lot less for the t-shirts and frozen catfish imported from China.

Should the suggestion not be warmly received, it might be a good idea to start planning for a good-sized track meet in someplace closer to home.

Foreign policy and business go hand-in-hand.  You certainly should have expected a Harvard MBA to know that, as opposed to having to go and unsuccessfully kiss the ass of some sheik of the burning sand, again.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:30 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

Mood:  lazy

Rabbits have a rough time in the Shire.  The tasty flora are a temptation worth the risk however, so the night time visitors grow bolder despite the danger, and they are now visible almost any time of the day.  Hawks use the area as a flyway, and coyotes patrol beyond the fences with a measure of regularity.  Crossing nearby lanes ends the chase for love-starved suitors from time-to-time.  Beau Neau has not pursued an adult as yet, but has accounted for the premature demise of several babies.  Fiona is instinctively drawn to hidden nests, and some sort of inherited programming requires that her jaws abruptly separate life from the act of discovery.  Frodo has very mixed feelings about all of this, and it has to do with the great anthropomorphic novel by Richard Adams, "Watership Down."  

Frodo gives human qualities to rabbits, much as he does to the chimpanzees of Jane Goodall. To Frodo, the beauty of the rabbit is exceeded only by his simple lack of foresight.  Despite the apparent wisdom of an occasional leader in the warren, the majority of rabbits seem prepared only to escape, but with no idea where.  On several occasions, Mick, the Wonder Dog, has flushed a rabbit from the underbrush only to see the play object-scamper directly toward Frodo; perhaps sensing that Frodo is a gentler soul and slow of foot.

Frodo can occasionally identify a particular rabbit by sight.  He tries not to do so, simply because the mortality of the subjects is limited.  A female, who has produced multiple offspring, with almost universal futility, was struck by a motorcar, probably driven by a newspaper deliveryperson otherwise distracted, just the other morning.  She was so soft, Frodo was glad only that the end had been apparently quick, and suffering was minimal.  Death is a constant among those who visit the Shire, but losing something so soft and beautiful cannot pass unnoticed.

Frodo will miss the little lady, and cannot help but hope that another will soon take her place, even if it means sacrificing a few flowers along the way.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:59 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

Mood:  surprised

While preparing for this morning's trek up Mount Doom, Frodo was ruminating through wheat and barley product, searching for raisins, and listening to Don Imus discuss current events with Tim Russert.  RFDTV connects to Frodo's breakfast table via satellite, and the radio in Frodo's motorcar is tuned to ABC out of New York City, so that he can catch an entire interview if it merits attention.  This morning Tim Russert said something that truly surprised Frodo, and brought a sense of perspective to the enormity of the events of the past few days.

Russert told Imus that he had gone to the Pentagon to interview former Secretary of State Colin Powell.  Although he did not indicate the date, it had to be no later than 2004.  During the interview, he said, he felt the effect of too much coffee, and asked Secretary Powell to excuse him for a moment, and to direct him to a Men's Room.  Secretary Powell responded by telling Russert to simply step into the hall and walk until he saw an open lavatory door.  "There are, you know," Powell said, "two, everywhere you see one."  Russert paused, and asked Powell what he meant by that, but realized the answer as soon as he asked the question.

The Pentagon was designed and built with separate bathrooms for blacks and whites. 

The Pentagon, the largest office building in the world, and the bastion of command for the most powerful military in the history of mankind, was built to accommodate segregation of the races.  Frodo, not unlike both Russert and Imus, was stunned by the revelation.  "Imagine," thought Frodo, "that there are a myriad of young black men and women buried within spitting distance of that building, who died in defense of our country, and they couldn't even piss in the same room with George C. Marshall, or any other soldier who just happened to be white."

Jeff Greenfield gave a memorial report on tonight's "CBS Evening News," recalling his experience at age 24, 40 years ago today, as a speechwriter for Robert Frances Kennedy.   When the last light flickered off the fallen body, held by a young Asian waiter, Katie Courick asked Greenfield if it didn't seem like such a long time ago.

"It seems like yesterday," he said.

There is so much to remember.  There is so much to forget.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:54 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

Mood:  special

In the movie "The Return of the King," Aragorn appears on horseback as the army of Middle Earth stands before the Black Gate.  At the same moment, Frodo and Sam battle Gollum above the fires of Mount Doom, in order to destroy the Ring.  Sauron and all his evil forces are massed against the Hobbits, the Men of Gondor, the Riders of Rohan, Elves, Dwarves, and the badly outnumbered fighters from all of Middle Earth.  Aragorn knows that he must buy time for the Hobbit, but the cost will be great, and he must somehow inspire, and lead.  He calls to those who recognize the danger they face and the battle they must fight, with his sword aloft, and his steed in stride, he proclaims "For Frodo."

Perhaps Aragorn was not the strongest, or the most experienced, of those in the Fellowship who gathered with Frodo on his quest.  It was he, however, who picked up the broken Sword and forged, time-after-time, victories afield or in court.  It was not without cost that he rode toward the Black Gate ahead of all the soldiers who followed him against that which challenged Middle Earth.  His ride was, perhaps, in a word, providential.

On the day that Barack Obama will speak before the Democratic Party Convention in Denver, Providence has decided that it will be on the forty-fifth anniversary of a speech given by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  In that speech, King stated that "I have a dream today."  He went on to say that he dreamed of a day when the content of character will determine judgment, as opposed to the color of skin.  Frodo could go on and on about words which have driven him over many obstacles, and guided him when he felt lost and alone.  It was as if King's words were meant specifically, for Frodo.  King, perhaps, was giving Frodo time to overcome Gollum, and to destroy the Ring.

Aragorn never speaks the words "For Frodo" in Lord Tolkiens' final book.  The addition of the verbiage in the cinematic presentation is editorial license.  Lord Tolkien, had he felt the need for an inspirational moment, would have probably given Aragorn the words "For Middle Earth."  It is striking however, given the amazing turnabout and results of this particular election, concluding in a concentrated time-frame, that it corresponds to the anniversary of a real "Return of the King." 

Providential.  A very interesting word, and one that Frodo will hold close abreast as events pass before his eyes.  Some things, it seems, are almost meant to be, and coincidence is a word easily dismissed.  Perhaps we are but actors, moved about on a board as pawns and knights.  Frodo may indeed be written into the drama to stand for those smaller, weaker, but ever-willing to serve the common good.  The game will be determined by those who believe, and who join together. 

Frodo will take notes.    

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:37 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | View Comments (1) | Permalink