Frodo, Keeper of the Ring

Monday, March 25, 2013

In The Summertime When The Leaves Are Green And The Redbird Sings I'll Be Blue
Mood:

cool
Topic: "Wither Weather"(9)

Nina and Nino are Spamish-language terms which Frodo initially assumed were two of the ships that Columbus utilized when invading the western hemisphere. In summary, he was probably close to being correct. Depending on which happens to be underneath a prevailing wind, unseasonable weather occurs somewhere, almost every day. Since it is Spring in the Shire, that must logically mean that the weather outside is pretty crummy. That assumption is substantiated by the congenial stroll which two nameless canines initiated and maintained upon their best friend. In the vernacular, Frodo froze his ass off while these two checked out every pile of discharge assembled during the past quarter-century.

On the bright side, Frodo's unwillingness to spend too much time in the great out-of-doors has eliminated the procrastination involved in the annual preparation of the income tax return. Job one. Additionally, Frodo has completed the reviews promised old friends of their independent chronologies to which Frodo bore witness when they actually happened. Job two. Finally, Frodo attacks the keyboard in order to bring to summary his 28th consecutive massacre of "March Madness" predictions in the NCAA Basketball Tournament (Ed Note--please remember that Frodo picked Villanova to defeat Georgetown in 1985). Job three, pending the initiation of a nap. Harvard beat New Mexico, and something called Florida Coastal Waterway Agricultural & Mining (or something close to that) has become the lowest-rated team to ever make the "Sweet Sixteen?"

The Weather Channel, now under the tutelage of NBC, has been performing as if their vocation paralleled Frodo's prognostications. Frodo also has learned that someone has filed suit against "Punxatawney Phil" for seeing his shadow on Groundhog Day (Ed. Note Two--please remember that a lady in Arizona once filed suit against God for making her ugly, stupid, and Governor, Frodo assumes). Perhaps it is best that Frodo move away from said keyboard and think much more seriously about that nap mentioned above. It's a dog's world out there today.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 11:24 AM EDT

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Thursday, March 21, 2013

It's a Small World After All
Mood:

caffeinated
Topic: "Solving a Problem"(9)

Not unlike the rest of the world, Frodo is adept at identifying problems. It is the answers that are so darned elusive, even to those critically imperiled by inaction. What follows is not meant in jest, it is a suggestion. This solution is not overly complex, although the problem itself is.

There are nearly a million military veterans waiting more than 250 days for the processing of benefit claims. These numbers include those wounded so severely that they are unable to earn a living. It includes those promised tuition assistance for returning to complete their education. The problem being that the confluence of veterans returning from two wars at basically the same point in time, and the absence of digitized information systems means that human beings are processing thousands of files, by hand. It will take years to catch up, and years more to modernize the process, all in an environment where there are few avenues for more money, and more staff.

The most capable people in all the world to deal with government are those staff people who serve Members of Congress. As part of the budgetary process, each member receives a stipend to cover administrative needs, including the staff whom they hire to answer constituent correspondence, serve the needs of the citizenry, and investigate matters of public concern. Who better to work, temporarily, to solve the problem at hand?

Frodo suggests that each Member of Congress, House and Senate, volunteer one staff-member to assist the Veterans Administration for one year. Assuming that it would take a month to train each person, that means that 435 people, handling one case a day (if not more), working about 200 days each in said endeavor, would legitimately further reduce the backlog by 87,000 cases. Admittedly, this would delay the efficiency of the offices of each Member of Congress. So? Isn't this one way for the legislative branch to address its miniscule performance level in the eyes of our nation? Isn't this one step to be taken by an organization nearly devoid of veterans itself?

And you know what? It wouldn't cost us a dime more than what we're paying right now. It might save the life of a kid who can't deal with the cards we've dealt him.

If you think Frodo makes sense, then pass it on. Who cares who gets the credit for a good idea, particularly when the need is at hand, and the answer is biting you in the butt.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:24 PM EDT

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Wednesday, March 20, 2013

My Blood Runs Cold
Mood:

not sure
Topic: "Doctor, Mr. MD"(9)

Frodo is the picture of health. That was not always the case, underscored by that winters evening when his sister informed him of what no one else thought he should know. Pneumonia was serious, even to a pre-teenager, and people thought that he might worry about the threat. In truth, all he could think of was a double-burger and fries, washed down with a chocolate shake. He survived it all, apparently, and has taken the position that everything works out OK if you don't worry about it. Frodo, it seems, thought a lot about MAD Magazine and the tutelage of Alfred E. Newman.

He overcame his childhood pestilence with a daily intake of liver, cooked no more than one minute, as opposed to the steroids recommended by the less-involved physicianery. Although things worked out well, Frodo still cannot stand the smell much less the taste of liver. In fact, he has oft thought that his premature end will come choking on a mouthful of that dreadful offal. He just never thought it might come so soon.

Frodo's new doctor, since the last one decided that family practice was no longer effusive, has noted that amid all the "normals, acceptables, and no problems" there need be a "slight concern." Frodo is, at first glance, anemic. Additional analysis of the presence of iron in his bloodstream will add greater clarity but the fact remains that Frodo may need to supplement his present intake with, get this, liver!

Frodo has decided to construct a suicide vest, which he will wear when next he visits the offices of the Republican National Party. If he's gotta go, he's gonna take some of those assholes with him, i.e. Ranch Preebus, Sara Pailend, and Michel Blockhead. Frodo opines, we believe, that it works to his advantage to have all the faux faithful join with those who admire the Hobbit, and wish him the best.

Frodo still thinks about double burgers, fries, and chocolate shakes. None of which smell like liver.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:42 PM EDT

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Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Time Is On My Side, Yes It Is
Mood:

d'oh
Topic: "Happy Anniversary"(9)

There were two incidents that stand out in Frodo's mind. The first was the look he got from one of the twin sons of his friend Legolas. Despite the good feelings and friendship Frodo shared with a son of his warrior-friend, the disdain the boy held for Frodo at that moment was readily apparent in his speechless glare at the Hobbit. The other encased the words spoken by one of the Men of Gondor who was so shocked to hear three voices united in opposition that he proclaimed dis-belief that "real men" could hold such an opinion. That is how it was, ten years ago, this day.

It is difficult for Frodo to otherwise chronicle the beginning of an ill-conceived war. Impregnated in ignorance of the opposition, the protagonists first sought to convince the peoples of Middle Earth that a threat to all was at hand. Instead, as Professor Morgenthau apparently suggested, the "balance of power" was destroyed with the subsequent fall of the Sunni leadership in Iraq. The Shiite majority, a term known but to God in those days, today is a pending nuclear threat unchallenged among all their neighbors. The lack of knowledge evidenced by the political leadership as well as their supporters in the general populace plagues our homeland to this very day.

The "Bush Doctrine" became an accepted course of action, in the minds of some, for striking an apparent enemy before they did so to us or our allies. Frodo still bows his head and shakes out the cobwebs when he remembers that said thesis was last utilized by those who treacherously bombed Pearl Harbor.

A cabal, drawn upon a concern for the safety and security of an ally, was dubbed the "Neo Cons," and their influence was so great within the roles of leadership and political power that all of Middle Earth found supporting them was an easy decision. Except that is for Frodo and those who advanced the position that war was the absolute last choice for action, and would never be used without clear and present danger.

Today, Frodo watched replays of John Kerry, Hillary Clinton, John Mccain, and so many others who granted support for the war, followed eventually by a complete sleight of hand slightly more than a year later. What bothers Frodo is that so many argue that the war was justified, or that the Iraqis were in some way involved in the terroristic activities than spurred George W. Bush to become the Incomparable Moron that he will always be, to the Hobbit.

There was no proof to justify the course taken, there was no statesmanship applied to establish standards of behavior. Not unlike the collapse of Wall Street some years later, only the little guys suffered while none of the culprits spent a night in jail. Too bad.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:48 PM EDT

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Friday, March 15, 2013

She's My Best Friends Girl
Mood:

on fire
Topic: " Thin Ice"(9)

Frodo has spent an entire day as if he were taking his final steps up to the pinnacle of Mount Doom. His effort was greeted by she known as Tess as if it were some sort of holiday, and on each of the three occasions cited, she burst through the front door and took off for virgin territory. Even Sam is avoiding the Hobbit this eve, for his threat to return the delinquent to the animal shelter is not entirely thunder and certainly not insignificant.

Frodo ordered 15 square yards of cypress mulch to properly insulate the grounds of the Shire. By days' end, more than two-thirds of the task was completed, but the remaining task at hand is daunting, even after a(hopefully) good nights rest. On the morrow, Frodo will make time to take Dandy to the Dog Park, and if he feels that she is still aware of her sins, Frodo will make sure his little friend Tess suffers in association.

Sam will surely argue that punishment will be ill-served so long after the sin, but Frodo will do everything in his power to make sure that the danger of a wild romp across public thoroughfares offers danger far beyond the immediate. Why, he wonders, do little things we love so much act like assholes, or Republicans, if you will? Perhaps Frodo should have named Tess after Chris Christie, and watched her eat herself to death.

The culprit lies beside his foot, sleeping as if the dawn will break afresh. Perhaps it will. It is still a long and arduous climb up Mount Doom. Frodo does not deserve anxiety beyond that which requires an even spread of mulch in the islands of the Shire. One delinquent sleeps, innocently, for sure.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:12 PM EDT

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Sunday, March 10, 2013

But I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
Mood:

irritated
Topic: "Downtown Cardinals"(9)

Frodo never thought he would miss Mitt Romney. At least, then, he knew that there would be something new, if not outright bizarre, to add sparkle to his morning coffee. Now, it is the same thing, day-after-day, and Frodo is getting to the point that he truly doesn't care whether or not the President paid for the dinner. What follows is a brief take on the three dominating stories at hand, allowing Frodo to let off a little steam, at your expense dear reader.

Let us, hypothetically, replace every use of the word "drone" with the descriptive title "AR-15". Senator Paul would be receiving a whole lot less sympathetic treatment for his filibuster if he had merely sought the Attorney General's assurance that no Americans will be targeted for elimination by assault weapons. Frankly, Frodo does not give a horse's patoot how his end comes, he would prefer however that no one receive a bonus therefrom.

Frodo has very little interest, other than outright pique, for the Conclave of Cardinals. Ever since they allowed Pujols to leave, the Cardinals have little to justify predictions of their competitive success in the National League. The Braves will be a far superior challenger to the other worldliness of the Boston Red Stockings. If this comment confuses you, dear reader, please proceed Governor and start worrying when the CNN commentator interjects.

Finally, there is all this seeming interest in Downtown Albany. Frodo has never spent much time there, but he is pretty sure that there are very few located within the city limits who speak with any kind of British accent. Besides, any guy who does speak that way is generally gay. Frodo is pretty sure they don't recognize gay people in Albany. Frodo has always wondered about the Governor of Georgia however. Does anyone, by the way, have any spare batteries for a remote?

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:00 PM EST

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Saturday, March 9, 2013

Every Rose Has its Thorn, Every Day Has Its Dawn
Mood:

celebratory
Topic: "Tom Bombadil Returns"(9)

Landscape grasses need to be trimmed in early March, annually. Frodo and his gallant neighbor, Tom Bombadil, would silently gather their trimmers and extension cords preparing to lower the greenery to no taller than a twelve-inch height above the surface of the Shire, annually. The ceremonial rite of Spring was interrupted by the collapse of the economy, and the subsequent loss of Tom's home to the inexplicable words of foreclosure. Frodo stood idly by, while his friend and neighbor drove silently into the sunset. Perhaps it was nothing more than male pride, but Frodo heard nothing more from his neighbor and friend, as his turn-signal blinked incessantly into the soul of the Hobbit.

This morning, the Hobbit started to gather his tools so that, for the first time, he could do what must be done, efficiently, and alone. He noted the motorcar turning into his driveway, and wondered who had gotten the wrong directions so early on a Saturday morning. The smile told him everything he needed to know.

They shook hands, and silently began to mow the landscape grass in the front yard of the Shire. As in days of old, they cursed the razor-sharp blades, and alternated raking with the shearing. Little need be said. It was a job that needed doing, and only they two seemed to know what, and when, it needed doing.

Tom has now found new directions.

Afterwards they were joined by Samwise and those who have replaced friends known as Fiona and Mick. It was apparent from the very beginning that Dandy and Tess knew who this stranger happened to be, and they greeted him, warmly. For the Hobbits, it was if their friend, and neighbor, still lived next door, ready and willing to help prepare for the Spring soon at hand. Friendship, it seems, crosses many borders, and greater challenges. They spoke of hope and change, secure in the fact that things get better each and every day.

And now those damned clumps of landscape grass retain their symbolic status for another year, or until Tom Bombadil comes again to visit his friends in the Shire. What day that may be will be known only when it comes. It will be a good day.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:42 PM EST

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Friday, March 8, 2013

Made Love In My Chevy Van, And That's Alright With Me
Mood:

energetic
Topic: "Gondor Goodfellas"(9)

Frodo believes he first participated in the festivities upon a baseball diamond when he was no more than five years old. Similarly, it has been at least twenty-five years since last he swung at a pitched ball. Much about the game remains just as it always was, for that is the charm of the national pastime in the Shire. Frodo has spent many an hour watching others play his game, but, most importantly, he has never stopped wondering just how good he is today. Some changes have indeed occurred, and it has resulted in statistical accomplishments by others that dwarf those of the Hobbit, lo these many years thereafter.

For example, there are no bats made from ash or maple. For the paltry sum of $300 one can purchase an aluminum bat which will last forever, that is unless it flies from the hand of the batter and conks the senses out of an innocent bystander. Everyone wears a helmet, thereby denying all the opportunity to experience a concussion or a mimicry of the status which befell the late Roy Chapman in 1944, when an errant pitch struck immediately behind his left ear. There are no "spikes" on the shoes, but the present tennis version costs a dozen times what the Ty Cobb endorsed (and honed) variety which now rest forlornly in places like Cooperstown.

Frodo knows facts such as these because of today's meeting of the Men of Gondor, which consisted of a Mexican lunch drenched by a Dos Equiis and a sense of attitude followed by an hour of "BP" inside a batting cage. Utilizing all of the available technological improvements developed since last he swung a bat in anger, Frodo waited to take his turn against the mechanized version of Whitey Ford, or at least Pascual Perez.

Norm went first. Wearing his Yankee t-shirt, and his Yankee cap, Norm gave witness to the truism that "you can't go home again." Frodo truly believes Norm was a great fan, but as a player, well, he is still a great fan.

Dale followed, and he showed Frodo something he did not anticipate. Dale made contact on nearly every ball to cross the plate. Now that doesn't mean each would've found a passage through an imaginary infield, but it did reflect a natural hand-eye coordination which spoke well of one trained as a soldier.

Lonesome George was the only one left before the Hobbit. LG impressed the Hobbit as the exact kind of guy he would want to bat second in his mythical line-up card. Batting as a right-hander, he drilled ball-after-ball into right field, a skill which the Hobbit has not been able to master, ever.

The Hobbit swung at the first pitch, and missed it badly. The results of the second pitch were not much different as the Hobbit attempted to adjust to the outside sink of the mechanized artillery, set at 75 mph. The third pitch dribbled foul, to his left. Two more swings and misses convinced the Hobbit that making contact was the secret. How to accomplish that was the mystery.

Suddenly, with a mighty ping to echo throughout the innerworld gymnasium, a line drive carried high and hard to left field. Then it began, and ball-after-ball screamed to dead left field, up the middle, and, finally, to the hole in right field. Soon there was a crowd about, all watching the Hobbit torch the machine. At that moment, Frodo could recite the words about John Henry, "a steel-drivin' man."

Momentum drove the Hobbit, and made him hope that this hour in time would never end, or that it at least last until Freddie Gonzalez of the Atlanta Braves wandered in and offered the Hobbit a long-term contract.

Now the Hobbit can rest easy, knowing that he's still got it. Glad he was however, that nobody suggested setting the machine at 95 MPH.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:59 PM EST

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Thursday, February 28, 2013

Cold Kentucky Rain Keeps Pourin' Down
Mood:

chillin'
Topic: "Where Sun Doan Shine"(8)

For the record dear reader, you are present at another anniversary for Frodo. In addition, this milestone chronicles an average input of 150 postings per annum, which ain't bad for a Hobbit with absolutely no history of finishing anything he ever started. Witness, for example, the continued presence of the Ring as well as Newt Gingrich.

On this day of celebration, the Hobbit shares the mood for "sequestration" that seems to best reflect the national news. Why, he wonders, haven't the parties simply been locked up in some sort of confined environment and held there until they come to some sense of consensus? He knows that some of the participants will never compromise on anything, which means that still another legal solution fails the larger world. The result would be that, eventually, the money will run out, and the sequestrees would starve. No loss.

Frodo is similarly imprisoned in an Appalachian valley with shifting weather fronts. Dandy and Tess are with the Hobbits, and they keep looking longingly at the motorcar, hoping that a bare foot will be placed on an accelerator and a homeward journey will begin before the next supper dish finally appears. Sharing living arrangements with those who first read the obituaries on a daily basis cements the aura of "lands end" which imprisons the Hobbit this day. Sydney and Beau Neau McKitty are thriving in the Shire with the careful attention paid their every whim by Miss Ellyn. Too bad, thinks the Hobbit, that Sydney is not here, in full screech, to bring a swift conclusion to the sequestration suffered herein.

Say, maybe there is a solution for the negotiators after all. Let them see how long they last with an eternal tape of a cockatiel in full screech. Boehner would break into tears.

Happy Frodo Day.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:26 AM EST

Updated: Thursday, February 28, 2013 10:28 AM EST

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Friday, February 22, 2013

Every Man Gotta Have a Party Doll
Mood:

party time!
Topic: "Tess of the Dorghis" (8)

A companion dog was the intent. Frodo was surprised by the fact that the pictured potential adoptee was not among the 2 or 3 hundred canines with whom he has become acquainted while volunteering at the Animal Shelter of the Shire. He answered his own question when he first saw the candidate and discovered that it only weighed 20.6 pounds. Frodo has consciously avoided the "puppies and small dogs" in order to spend time with the larger, sometimes mangier, who receive less attention from the "oohers" and the "aahers."

Sam sat in the waiting area with Dandy, who was to be exposed to each of the potential candidates, and cast approving or dissenting input.

The candidate was the fifth to appear before the Committee, and it was at this point that Frodo conceived of the similarity between this process and that of the Academy Awards. The only difference being that non-selectees still faced a potential meeting with the Grim Reaper.

She nearly fell out of the cage into Frodo's arms. Perhaps she had seen him walk by on prior days, hoping that he would look her way, and now recognized this as her big chance. Frodo held her gently as he slipped a small leash around her neck and placed her on the floor and started to walk into the viewing area. Oh, how she pranced, and Frodo sensed that something special was in the air.

As soon as the candidate met Sam's eyes, the deal was done. She looked enough like the late and long-lamented Fiona that tears swelled in the brave eyes of Samwise. Amazingly, Dandy also saw something special in the fact that his front paw was being slowly dissolved into the widening maw of the last remaining candidate.

Frodo imagined that Tess, who wagged her tail incessantly while the paperwork was being completed, was silently mouthing the words "I would like to thank the members of the Academy. . .", and he knew that it was the most sincere use of these words in his lifetime.

She is a star (and she thinks the Hobbit is cool). Much, much more than a companion. She is a friend.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 2:54 PM EST

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