Mood:  caffeinated

Dear Mr. Lou Dobbs,

   Frodo is a very big fan, especially when you lambaste the stupidity of the Bush Administration.  Frodo does have to admit however, that you become very tiresome dealing with the same issue over-and-over-and-over.  Frodo appreciates the business approach taken to analyze the machinations of government, but feels that you sometimes overlook the trees in the forest by constantly viewing situations from a single perspective.  Respectfully Lou, please read the following as an example, because friend Frodo thinks he makes a very important point.

   As you know, mortgages are something relatively new in Mexico, since most homes were either inherited, or built by hand.  In 2000, the Mexican government began an active promotion of home loans through government agencies in order to stimulate the housing industry.  Slowly, traditional bank mortgages became more accessible as interest rates fell.  At this point, analysts now estimate that Mexico has a housing shortage of about 4 million homes.  The Mexican government is planning for a miilion housing starts annually over the next four years.  The goal is to double the present housing inventory by the year 2030.  This, friend Lou, means that there is a need for workers trained in new-home construction, in Mexico.

   Perhaps Frodo's point is swiftly becoming evident.  From where are so many skilled workers going to come?  In the United States, where there is a virtual shut-down of new-home construction, with sufficient inventory completed to meet all projected demand for up to five years, there are thousands, if not millions, of immigrants from Mexico who have been working, many illegally, in new-home construction, who are now unable to find jobs.  That, kind Sir, is what you've been telling us, night-after-night-after-night.  The jobs are now back in their homeland, and that is where they are bound to go, at least in Frodo's opinion.

   "Nice theory Mr. Frodo, but how do you know this?," you ask.  Well Lou, take a look at the current financials of a little old company based here in Atlanta; you know it, it's Home Depot.  Home Depot, since it opened its first retail location in Mexico seven years ago, now has 69 stores in Mexico, and is planning to open 9, or more, this year alone.  At the same time, Home Depot has announced the closing of 15 stores in the US.  Home Depot, as Frodo is sure you know, makes most of its money from the sale of building materials for residential purposes.  At the same time, Home Depot's biggest competitor, Lowe's, has announced plans to open five stores in the City of Monterey by the end of next year.

   What this means Mr. Dobbs, is that a lot of those people you've been so concerned about are going to disappear from our borders.  They are going to go home, build desperately-needed housing, raise families, and become consumers.  They will likely significantly increase living standards in Mexico, and perhaps the next trips they take across the border into our country will be to purchase the goods and services we sell to them.

   Now that you've thought about it, aren't you glad we didn't put 12 million people in jail?

   Sometimes, Mr. Dobbs, patience is a virtue.

Your friend and admirer,

Frodo Baggins                                                                        

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:08 AM EDT

Updated: Saturday, May 17, 2008 10:09 AM EDT

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Mood:  party time!

Constable Wayne Burnett of Alice Springs, in the "Land Down Under," recently exhibited a level of naivete which inspired the creative juices in friend Frodo.  The Constable ticketed the driver of a car he pulled over, subsequently resulting in a $710 fine, after noting that the front passenger seat had the seat belt securely wrapped around a case of beer.   At the same time, the driver's 5-year-old child was bouncing along on the floorboard.  Constable Burnett stated that he was "shocked and appalled," adding that this was the "first time that the beer has taken priority over a child."

"Well, exxxxccccuuuuusssse me!," said Frodo.  This was a straight line which could not pass undetected.

"Jenna, this is Dad."

"Hi Dad, wasssup?"

"Honey, could you slip on down to the 7-11 and get your old Dad a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon?"

"Why me?  Why not send one of the Agents out to get it for ya?"

"Now you know how your Mother is.  She checks their logs to make sure I'm not sending them out to the liquor store like I did back in Texshish."

"Daddy, me and Harold just got hitched, and he's over there making googly eyes at me, and I am his wife now, y'know."

"Well, just tell him to put a sock on it while you do a favor for your dear ole Dad.  It'll only take a few minutes, and besides, I don't want him messin' around with 'my little girl' anyways."

"Daddy."

"Oh, tell ya what, why not pick up a couple of six-packs and keep one for you two?"

"Can I put it on your account?  I mean things are a little tight for us newly-weds, y'know."

"Of course, I understand these things.  I remember what it was like before the Trust Fund kicks in."

"Can I pick out a couple of 'Slim Jims' for dinner?"

"Dinner?  I've hearda livin' on love, but ain't that a might severe?"

"Daddy, you've told me more than once of the days when you lived on beer and Slim Jims for semesters on end while you were gettin' your legacy at Harvard." 

"Hee-hee, that is true.  Did I ever tell you about the time I traded your sister for a case of Rolling Rock?"

"Go on."

"It's true, I swear, and boy did your Momma get mad."

"Well what happened?"

"Understand, everything worked out just fine, especially since I got the names confused and told your momma I'd traded my Momma, who's also named Bararbara. . ."

"Yes Daddy, I know."

"So, anyways, I took your sister to the AM/PM up in Midland and told the Wetback who owned the place that if he gave me a case of Rolling Rock, I'd trade him my firstborn."

"What did he say?"

"He jes shook his head, and tole me that if I needed it that bad, I could jes have it.  Boy, did I fool him."

"Fool him, how?'

"Shoot girl, everbody knows you was the firstborn twin."

Listen to what that Fool said and did today, and tell Frodo he ain't still poppin' the top?   

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:17 PM EDT

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Mood:  on fire

When one is the smallest, and the weakest, it is generally not advisable to enter a room looking for a fight.  Frodo further learned that if unable to win the fight, then speed would be of paramount value.  In the unlikely event that one encounters a foe both stronger and faster, then the ability to talk oneself out of trouble is the only salvation.  This, thought Frodo, is the rule of the life that he would lead for all his days.  Frodo miscalculated.

Frodo never, for even one second, ever believed that violence would accomplish anything.  George W. Bush however, whose moronic display now includes his stated personal sacrifice of the game of golf, in order to better bind with the families of the young men and women whom he sent to a pointless, and unforgivable, war, deserves a punch in the nose.  Beyond the imbecility of such a statement, it must be added that photographs reveal that even then, he lied.  He was so cavalier in his facts that he forgot about published pictures of himself on the fairway, more than two months beyond the "unforgettable day" when he no longer felt it appropriate for the "commander-in-chief" to be at play during a war.

The phrase "spitting mad" is on Frodo's lips.  Frodo knows that some, dear reader, who delight in his stories, may be taken aback by the visceral fervor which Frodo allows to pass this night.  Frodo is truly angry for the damage that this Incomparable Moron has done to this, the last great "castle on a hill."  Our collective wealth, our safety, our very reputation, have all been put to risk by he who truly does not understand the immense harm he has done.

Frodo knows one thing, if the Incomparable Moron wants to go through the rest of his life with that beak, he'd better be able to out-run Frodo.  If Frodo should catch him, rest assured dear reader, the first word out of his mouth would be the only one that exited over teeth.

Another of the rules of life would bite the dust.    Gandhi never met George W. Bush.  

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:45 PM EDT

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Mood:  special

It has been a year since the loss of Galadriel.  Her only daughter yesterday gave birth to the grand-daughter of whom she had dreamed.  It was a joyous, yet stricken, Boromir who called to Samwise with the news. 

Galadriel hovered, unseen, smiling, touching the hearts of all those who knew she was in that room.  This Frodo truly believes, if nothing else.

Boromir has sold all of his cattle, including the one he named for Sam.  His farm is up for sale, and there is another, who waits for Boromir when he is ready.  Frodo knows that, soon, Boromir will go to her.  That is what Galadriel would want.  That is what Boromir needs.  Frodo knows Boromir will return often, but there will not be time for old warriors to gather when grandfathers hold angels.  The Fellowship will grow that much smaller.

Makes the rest of the news seem kind of unimportant, doesn't it?

Welcome Dorothy Rose, my but you must have your mothers' eyes!  Your heart, it is said, will always belong to daddy. 

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:51 PM EDT

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Mood:  d'oh

Frodo can sometimes be the contrarian to the complete and absolute consternation of the Fellowship.  Frodo, for one, does not want to see the struggle for the Democratic Presidential nomination come to a premature end.  In fact, Frodo may be the only Hobbit who, at this moment, wants to see the internecine struggle go all the way to the last possible legal second.  Frodo is also confident that when all others consider his reasoning, the process will continue unabated.

There are four good reasons why all of the collective attention in Middle Earth needs to remain transfixed on Hillary and Barack.  The four reasons are Anna Nicole, Lindsay, Paris, and Brittany. 

Slowly this day, Frodo began to notice references to the late and unlamented on the black-and-white.  Now that the nominating process is beginning to lose some of its' "news du jour" luster, it is increasingly probable that the talking heads will now return to that which plagued us all before the Iowa Caucuses.  What else, pray tell, can dominate every cable news show that Nancy Grace hasn't already spread-eagled on the operating room table of forensic voyeurism?  Frodo fears that soon we will hear that Anna Nicole has been spotted, alive, on the beach at Ipanema.

It was learned today that, aaargggh, Brittany will receive additional court-sponsored time with her children.  It will, Frodo predicts, probably mean that the children have now seen their last pair of underpants.

Frodo is frightened of Paris (better dubbed "Moscow Motel Six" by friend Merry) and Lindsay, working in tandem.  They might actually miss a turn off Mulholland Drive, and keep going until they run out of gas right in the middle of the Shire.  This would be the point at which Frodo would find himself in complete agreement with Lou Dobbs, and require that our borders be secured against improper immigration.

These are not idle fears, dear reader.  After all, the most interesting thing about the John McCain campaign is just how much Cindy looks like Paris.

Frodo notices little things like that.  

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 8:49 PM EDT

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Mood:  lyrical

Bilbo will cry a little this evening, because a mellow baritone who could mix a little country, a little folk, and a little rock will no longer add to the more than 145 songs which entertained parts of three generations.  For this reason, Frodo will break precedent and briefly eulogize the "Tennessee Plowboy," as the second of what must surely be three who pass in succession.  Eddy Arnold died today, just days short of his 90th birthday, and only two months after his wife of 66 years.

Frodo, during the loneliest time in his life, saw Eddy Arnold in concert, and every song seemed to reach out and speak to his aching heart.  Frodo truly wanted to make the world go away, and to have all of its' burdens removed from his shoulders.  Frodo wanted so desperately to know what someone else was doing in his world.  Frodo could stare into the empty night sky and actually hear the lonesome cattle call. 

The depths of Frodo's depression were answered by the mournful reminders that suffering is something known to all.  Music is not just a celebration of good times, rather it is a chronicle of the joys and the sadness which are a part of the times we know.  As clearly as Eddy Arnold could define Frodo's lament, he must have pulled the very heartstrings of people of Bilbo's time, of whom there are now so few.

The genius of Chet Atkins produced the application of strings to the whippoorwill voice of Eddy Arnold, giving solace to every lover who has ever pined alone.  It is difficult for Frodo to accept that one who has always been there, will no longer be.  It is, he knows, the art that lives on, that speaks to those who remember, and to those trying to forget.   

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:01 PM EDT

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Mood:  crushed out

The Commonwealth of Virginia once described itself as "The Mother of Presidents," and with good reason, for four of the first five just happened to be Virginians.  Over the years, that percentage, and as a matter of fact, most percentages in Virginia, have declined substantially.  In more recent years, such eminent politicians as former US Senator William Scott (identified not only as the "dumbest man in the Senate today, but probably the dumbest ever"), and former Governor/Senator George Allen, whose choice of foreign epithets doomed him to permanent barrister positions outside of the political realm, have generally been characteristic.  Frodo does note however, that current US Senator Jim Webb, and the former Governor and current Senate candidate Mark Warner are exceptional performers.  There is nothing however, which can reverse that which permanently besmirches Virginia as its' stand for "states' rights" in the middle part of the twentieth century.  Frodo's tale this night is so that some of us remember, and that the rest will learn.

Mildred Loving, age 68, died this past week.  Born Mildred Jeter, she met Richard Loving and married him in 1958 in Washington, D.C.  When they returned to their home in Central Point, Virginia, just north of Richmond, a few weeks later, they were arrested and charged with "cohabiting as man and wife, against the peace and dignity of the Commonwealth."  In order to avoid jail, the couple agreed to leave Virginia, and to not return for at least 25 years.  They moved from their home and settled in the District of Columbia. 

Some years later, the Lovings wrote the the Attorney General of the United States, Robert F. Kennedy.  The issue was referred to the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) who took up the case, and directed it all the way to the Supreme Court (when it was a "Supreme Court").  In 1967, the Court unanimously ruled that states could not deny their right to marry, and thus were laws changed in 17 states, and thereby the Lovings were able to return home to Virginia and raise their two children.  Richard died in an automobile accident several years ago.  The widowed Mildred was remembered this week by her daughter as "strong and brave yet humble--and believed in love."

Frodo's query is about the sanctity of marriage, and how it seems that it is again under assault by those who would challenge human beings who love and live together.  No, dear reader, the issue isn't quite the same today as it was in 1958, when Richard Loving who was white, and Mildred Jeter who was black, got married.  The issue, dear reader, today is so different, or is it?

Mildred Jeter Loving, goin' home. 

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 10:36 PM EDT

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Mood:  spacey

EDITORIAL NOTE:  Evening past, Frodo spent considerable time and effort in the subject matter identified above,  Upon completion, he was informed that he had experienced a "Proxy Server Error."  To Frodo, this sounded something like Bill Clinton or Jeremiah Wright.  In any event, he attempted to copy his creation, but found that his out-of-date printer refused to function without the input of a new color cartridge.  Frodo then attempted to e-mail the creation to himself, allowing him to access the original once the surrogate or whatever was done making havoc.  In the end, he lost everything he had written to the mysterious ethernet.  This evening he will attempt to re-create his narrative and to ask someone wiser and more technically-proficient to explain to Frodo exactly what the computer geekies were trying to communicate with the phrase "proxy server error."

Frodo has a habit of opening packages, assembling parts, and ignoring instructions.  This is, he feels, in response to the dangling participles and double negatives which characterize any product outline manufactured by individuals seeking some form of retribution for the final outcome of the Second World War.  Upon receipt of his first telescope, Frodo also assumed that popping in a few lenses, attaching a viewing stand, and focusing on celestial objects was not really a series of daunting tasks.  Wisely, he decided to test his finished product on the largest and brightest of the heavenly bodies.

The Moon may shine brightest in Kentucky, but it is hard to miss almost anywhere in Middle Earth.  It did not take Frodo long to find that brightest of objects, and to bring a new level of clarity to its surface and his minds' eye.  What Frodo was not prepared for however, were the ridges running all over the lunar geography.  Not unlike the walls constructed along the Mexican border, Frodo found himself looking at distinct geographic subdivisions all over the face of the Man in the Moon.  In a frenzy, he sought out Sam and issued instructions to contact NASA.  

Sam was reluctant to act so precipitously.  Sam advised Frodo to go back, to check his degrees of latitude and longitude, or whatever, and to take a second look at his discovery.  Frodo took affront.  Reluctantly, he did as Sam suggested, and was again peering into the lens when Sam asked if he still saw the ridges on the face of the Moon.  Frodo said he did, but, he added, he also now had identified what appeared to be writing on one of the ridges.

"Writing!," exclaimed Sam.  "What kind of writing, is it something you can decipher?"

"Yes," said Frodo sheepishly, "it says 'Philadelphia Gas and Electric.'"

Sam smiled and returned to the supper dishes, while Frodo raised his lens ten degrees in order to observe the Moon itself, and to avoid the "proxy server error" which had drawn him to the streetlight.

Many years later and on this evening, Frodo has a new-and-improved telescope and comparatively vast experience in his celestial avocation.  Oftentimes Frodo has observed the North Star, Mars, Venus, and the Constelllation Orion.  Here, in the mountainous ridges above Lake Lovey, free of streetlights, Frodo is able to explore the Universe while contemplating the rate of dissolution experienced by ice in a variety of libations.  As he swung his "Bushnell" into action, he was startled to find a heretofore inexplicable void in the southwestern sky, just a few degrees above the horizon.  "Egad," said he, "Frodo has stumbled upon the first 'black hole' ever observed from a mountaintop in Tennessee."

Frodo learned a long time ago that Sam is not an acceptable documentarian for his scientific discoveries.  He grabbed his tall glass and took off afoot to the cabin around the bend, occupied by the recently retired professor from the university, appropriately dubbed "Doctor John."

"Forsooth," spake Frodo (Frodo has an Elizabethan tendency that exhibits itself as the ice melts), "Doctor John, come quickly, for Frodo has discovered something so magnificent in his telescope that considerable care will have to be given to an appropriate cognomen for that which he has just discovered."

"Oh," queried Doctor John, "and what is it that thou hadst brought forth from the unknown to share with all mankind this day, friend Frodo?"

"A black hole."

"A black hole say you," he marveled, "as in one of those objects through which gravity and light itself are unable to penetrate; where there is no intellectual life, not even any distinguishable microbic activity?"

"Aye, a black hole."

The conspirators raced back in Doctor John's personal golf cart (used in place of a motorcar whenever there is ice melting in any tall glass).  Doctor John placed his eyeball upon the lens, twisting it slightly to sharpen his view of the void.  Frodo danced from foot-to-foot as the academic "Hmmmed" and "Ahummed" for countless moments of examination.  Finally, he looked up, and spaked, er, spoke.

"Frodo, my friend, you have, as best I can determine this evening, documented your rather persistent assertion about an actual location in which there is no intelligent life."

"What?  What do you mean my 'persistent assertion'?  I've never seen anything like this before, and neither has anyone else around here."

"Frodo, you are on a high point, focused due south southwest, and you have an unobstructed view of the Great State of Texas."

"Texas?"

"Yes, the place you say harbors only those who absorb all light, and who produce nothing of value.  Actually, it is quite remarkable that you were able to view with such clarity that which emits very little worth noting."

"So my 'black hole' is Texas?"

"That would be my conclusion, yes."

"And you agree that Texas actually resembles a 'black hole'?"

"Oh indeed, and might I trouble you for an addition to our continuing analysis of ice dissolution?"

In his haste, Frodo accidentally spilled ice all over the deck.  "Well," he said, "at least I have solved my original conundrum this evening."

"Pardon?" said Doctor John.

"I just committed a 'Proxy Server Error'."

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:10 PM EDT

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Mood:  spacey

Frodo admits to the fact that sometimes (okay, all the time) he opens the package and sits the instructions aside.  Despite the fact that even laboratory rats learn from unfortunate experience, Frodo refuses to spend valuable time interpreting English written by someone with a revenge motive from the end result of the Second World War.  Such was the case when he obtained his first telescope.

"How hard can it be?," said Frodo.  "I mean, all you do is insert the lenses, mount the telescope on the stand, and point it in the right direction.  How hard can it be?"

That first night, Frodo wisely assessed that a large celestial object, in this case the Moon, would be easiest to find, and then to adjust all the focus.  Things seemed to be working on plan, but then Frodo was stunned to find grooves all over the Moon.  "I mean," he said, "I thought that the canals were supposed to be on Mars, but there were these walls, very similar to what's being built on the Mexican border, and they were everywhere.  I started for the portable telephone, and was looking up the telephone number for NASA when Sam suggested that I might want to look closer before enlisting the services of the federal government.

Reluctantly, Frodo returned to the telescope, moving it slightly to the right.  He screamed, "Sam, come look, there's writing."

"Writing?  What does it say?"

"It says 'Philadelphis Gas & Light.'"

The streetlight was, to Frodo's dismay, even brighter than the actual celestial object located about ten degrees above the observation point of his telescope.  Sam smiled at Frodo and assured him that the boys in Greenwich certainly made similar errors from time-to-time.

This amusing event is recalled because of Frodo's astronomical discovery this past evening.  Having learned the location of the Moon, the North Star, the Constellation 'Orion,' and occasionally the planets Mars and Venus, Frodo is much more scientific than in his youthful years.  Last evening however, Frodo was startled to find, for the first time, that his new-and-improved telescope had identified the first "black hole" ever visible to an observer based at Lake Lovey, in Tennessee.  This area of absolute nothingness was clearly defined in the southwestern sky, just a few degrees above the horizon.  Frodo took his time, and examined the entire perimeter until he was personally convinced that what he saw was absolutely devoid of life or any molecular substance.

Having learned his lesson that Sam tended to minimize the significance of his findings, Frodo called his friend "Doctor John," a retired professor from the University, and told him what he had discovered.  Thoroughly atwitter, and with a cocktail in hand, "Doctor John" hurried over to the deck outside Frodo's cabin and peered skyward through Frodo's telescope.  After several minures, he turned to Frodo and said, "Frodo, you have something here.  What we are looking at, as you have stated many times before, is a place where there is no intelligent life."

"What do you mean 'as I have stated many times before'?", queried Frodo.

"Frodo, my friend, from our elevated position, you have sighted the telescope directly on the State of Texas.  This 'finding' documents your continuing assertion that the entire area is a 'black hole,' devoid, as you allege, of any reason to ever go there."

Point, game, set.  Ain't science grand?  

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 1:45 PM EDT

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Mood:  down

Dana Something-or-Other, the current spokesperson, stood before the assembled gaggle and admitted that today would be a day that would not be politically advantageous for the Administration of the Incomparable Moron.  Somehow, she seemed to be saying, the "Mission Accomplished" banner, unfurled on the deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln, five years ago today, was actually created at the White House, but it had nothing to do with the theatrics in Iraq.  Rather, she averred, the banner was congratulatory to the ship's crew, given that their tour of duty was over, and they were on their way home. 

More than 3900 young men and women have come home since that day.  The President of the United States has not attended one single ceremony marking their homecoming.  He has not unfurled one single banner which reads "Mission Accomplished."  Frodo has to say that this is the single most bizarre, most disrespectful exhibition of human insensitivity which he has ever personally confronted.  Oh, believe dear reader, Frodo has seen evidence and read of unspeakable acts of cruelty, even in Middle Earth, of one living creature acting shamelessly to another, but never has there been a President of the United States who has choreographed these events as if they were political theatre. 

These young men and women deserve so much more.  The actions of this Incomparable Moron, Incomparable Moron says Frodo, must be chronicled, remembered, so that no one ever, ever, treats this sacrifice with so little respect. 

Frodo proposes that the First Day of May, celebrated by some as the advent of Spring and by others as a revolutionary political hoedown, be recognized as a National Holiday.  Let us dub this date as "Suffer We the Fools Day," in which we  come together and recognize all of the ingenuous stupidity which has haunted our common experience.

The picture of George W. Bush should adorn the commemorative postage stamp.  Along the top of the stamp should be the phrase "Suffer We the Fools," and in the respective bottom corners the words "Katrina" and "Iraq" can stand on their own, without further explanation.

Write your Congressman today.  Especially today.

Posted by loveysdaddyga at 9:48 PM EDT

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