Author: John M. Williams

MY PERFECT POKE SALLET RECIPE

Spring is just around the corner. Soon, the daffodils and cherry blossoms will bloom and young men’s thoughts will turn to love. Some, though, will think of poke.  I’m one not of them, but I’m sure some people are ready to pick poke or whatever it is you do to harvest it.

Some of you ask: What the cuss is he talking about it? What is poke? I’ve written about it before. Read this. It will tell you all you need to know.

If you’ve read this blog before, you know that I grew up in Harlan County, Kentucky–the very heart of Appalachia. We like poke so much that we have an annual festival in its honor.

When I originally wrote about poke, I drew some mild rebukes for my perceived criticism. Well-meaning folks told me that I was misguided. It has caused me to reconsider my views.

My mother was a home economics teacher, and she taught me more than a little bit about cooking. I have now applied these skills to the issue of poke. Rather than dismiss this weed as foul and unpalatable, perhaps I should find a way to create my own culinary masterpiece. Thus, I present the perfect poke recipe.

First, you’ll need a mess of poke. How much is a mess? One pokeful should be sufficient. You’ll also need a pot of water, a raw onion and vinegar.  A double sink would also be helpful.

Thoroughly wash poke in cold water-or don’t. It doesn’t really matter.

Much like marijuana, remove all stems. In fact, smoking some of it while you cook may not be a bad idea.

Bring water to boil.

Place poke in boiling water.  You may also place poke in which poke is gathered into boiling water for added flavor.

Boil poke.

When poke reaches a consistency somewhere between algae and human baby excrement, it may be done. The smell should also approximate algae and/or fecal matter.

Drain poke in colander.

Look at poke.  Vomit in poke-tainted side of sink (This is where the double sink is important.  You do not want poke vomit in part of sink where dishes may be placed).

CAUTION:  DO NOT LEAVE PREPARED POKE WITHIN REACH OF CHILDREN OR PETS, LEST ACCIDENTAL INGESTION TAKE PLACE.  IN THAT EVENT, NATURAL GAG REFLEX SHOULD INDUCE IMMEDIATE VOMITING.  IF NOT, FEED VICTIM MORE POKE.

Open window and throw poke water into yard.  WARNING:  Poke water may contaminate ground water supplies or result in the actual growing of poke.  The author disclaims any responsibility for roaming hill jacks picking poke in your yard.  

Place prepared poke in toilet.  Flush repeatedly until all contents are expelled.  In cooking, this is known as “eliminating the middle man.”  In this case, the “middle man” is your digestive system.

Eat raw onion washed down with tall glass of vinegar in effort to erase memory of poke cooking.

So, there you have it. Bon apetit!

©www.thetrivialtroll.com

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Dying to Get High

Since Philip Seymour Hoffman’s body was discovered on February 2, 2014, I’ve pondered whether to write about it.  What can I add to the flood of coverage?  Maybe nothing, but here goes.

Let’s stop being ignorant about drug and alcohol addiction.  We once embarked on a well-meaning, but painfully naive, campaign to JUST SAY NO to drugs.  Perhaps one day a high-profile drug death will force us to JUST SAY NO to our collective ignorance of addiction.  Addiction is disease, plain and simple.

Many of us think of the famous and talented has having something we don’t, an edge that we’d love to have.  This is largely true.  Addiction, it seems, is the great equalizer.

That Philip Seymour Hoffman was a great actor is undeniable, so, too, it seems is the fact that he was a drug addict.  Being a great actor is a mark of distinction.  Being an addict is not.  The addict is like a character from a Tom Clancy novel, operating in the shadows, doing his best to conceal his true identity.

Hoffman gave many fine performances as an actor.  His skills are now a footnote to his life.  He will be largely remembered for how he died, not how he lived.  For all its trappings, this is one element of the price of success.  Anonymity is gone.  Fame–or infamy–take its place.

Hoffman is not afforded the vague obituary of the common addict.   You know some of these people.  Their obituaries say they died “suddenly” or “unexpectedly” or after a “brief illness.”  Perhaps they died of “heart failure,” another common euphemism for overdosing or drinking oneself to death. There are no requests to support cancer research or hospice care in lieu of flowers.  They are relegated to the same types of amorphous remembrances as suicide victims.

Hoffman died like most addicts–alone.  By all accounts, he had been clean for over two decades, only to relapse in the past couple of years.  It took him two decades to build his enviable career.  It took his addiction less than two years to kill him.  If you are familiar with addiction, you’ve seen this same story play out before.  Regardless of how glamorous one’s life may have been, this death is not.

The addict’s death is an ugly death.  Google Chris Farley’s name, and one of the images you’ll see is his body after his overdose death.  Ugly might be a mild word.

The chances are that every person reading this knows an addict.  Perhaps you are one yourself.  If so, you know the power of the addiction.  Maybe you are one of those for whom addiction is a sign of weakness or poor morals.  If so, consider:

  • Have you ever taken an illegal drug?
  • Have you ever taken a prescription drug that belonged to someone else?
  • Have you ever taken a legal drug but not followed the directions?
  • Have you ever had a drink of alcohol?
  • Have you ever been drunk?

Some folks-very, very few–can answer “No” to all of those questions.  If so, you have avoided the risk of setting off your addiction.   If you answered “Yes” to any of those, you are simply one of the vast majority of us.

The great puzzlement of addiction is that most people–indeed, the overwhelming majority–can do all of the above without becoming an addict.  Life for an addict is different.

The simplest (and best) explanation I’ve ever heard for why we drink or take drugs is this:  We like the effect.  That’s hard to admit for a lot of us.  We want to think we are wine connoisseurs or that we “experiment.”  The truth is more blunt:  We like the effect.

The addict likes the effect, too.  His world, though, is different.  He obsesses about the effect.   When he consumes a drink or his drug of choice, he likes the effect, but then craves more.   In his last days, he can’t quite get the desired effect.  More is better but never quite enough.

I am certain that most people reading this cannot relate.  You may have a drink or two at dinner and think “I better slow down.  I’m starting to feel this.”  Maybe you smoke a joint to relax.  For the addict, that drink or joint lights the fuse.  His response is “I’m starting to feel this.  I need more.”  As F. Scott Fitzgerald said “First you take a drink.  Then the drink takes a drink.  Then the drink takes you.”

Hoffman, Lenny Bruce, Judy Garland, Whitney Houston, Chris Farley, John Belushi, Michael Jackson, Heath Ledger, River Phoenix, Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin–all well-known drug deaths.  A similar list could be compiled of the famous who drank themselves to death.  Actors, athletes, politicians–the lists are practically endless.

These are the addicts we know about.  Consider all the ones we don’t. They include your friends, neighbors and even family.  Maybe you, too.

Like other diseases, addiction doesn’t discriminate.  The rich and poor; black and white; male and female; young and old–addiction throws a broad net.  The addicts I’ve known include doctors, lawyers, accountants, realtors, salesmen, ministers, carpenters, brick masons, electricians, janitors, politicians, housewives and many others.  Money, success, failure, poverty–none of this matters.

You may be of the stripe who say “Lock ’em, up!”  While I disagree, I understand the sentiment.  It is more comforting to think we can hide it.  Looking at it is tough.  There is shame in it.  And fear.  We’ve stuffed our prisons full, yet our friends and neighbors still die.

There is good news, though, among all this sorrow–and it is sorrow, by the way, destroying the lives of the addicts and all those who care about them.  Addiction is treatable.  Make no mistake here–it is not curable.  The clean addict or sober drunk is one drug or drink away from disaster.  Ongoing, effective treatment can and will prevent that.   Our attitude toward addiction remains a great stumbling block.

The stigma attached to addiction is daunting, worse perhaps than mental illness.  While we’ve grown accustomed to taking a pill for this or that , we still shrink at the thought of a drug addict or alcoholic among us.

Shaming the addict into the shadows with the threat of prison or ostracizing him won’t work. I’ve never known an addict who enjoyed his or her addiction in its chronic form.  No one sets out to be a drug addict or alcoholic.  Sanctimonious preaching won’t cause a great revelation in the mind of the addict.

Why don’t they just straighten up?  You might as well ask a cancer patient why he “doesn’t just get well.”  I once heard that no one was ever shamed or browbeaten into Christianity.  Treatment for addiction works the same way.

If we consign addiction to the dust bin of moral failure, we simply accept it as a human frailty.  It is much more than that.  Likewise, it is not a bad habit.  Leaving one’s dirty clothes in the floor is bad habit.  Drinking or drugging oneself to death is not.

Addiction is a disease of the mind and body.  The addict’s mind drives him to his drink or drug while his body craves more.  Addicts aren’t “partying.”  They are dying.

Addiction has one distinction that other diseases do not.  Often, the addict has no desire to stop.  The disease convinces him that he has no disease.  I can think of no other chronic, fatal illness that has that so affects its sufferer.  As a result, getting help for an addict is difficult, even impossible in many cases.  That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.

I suspect that if a terminal illness swept through our population like addiction has, we would bring every possible resource to bear on its eradication.  Of course, it is foolish to think we can eliminate this disease.  As long as there are human beings, some will want to change how they feel.

Perhaps if we take addiction out of the shadows and remove the stigma, we can make some progress.  If every drug or alcohol death were publicized, we would be horrified by the numbers.  For all his fame, talent and wealth, Hoffman died the addict’s death.  He leaves children to mourn him and puzzled friends.  The next time you hear of an overdose death, think about your friends and family.  There’s probably an addict lurking among them.

©www.trivialtroll.com 2014

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Here’s Something Funny: How I Talk

I talk funny.  No, I don’t have a speech impediment.  If I did, it’s likely that very few people would mention it.  Then again, maybe they would.  Still, I talk funny, and I know it.

I didn’t always know it.  For 18 years, I thought I sounded just fine, better than most, in fact.  I grew up in Harlan County, Kentucky, the very heart of Eastern Kentucky.  Harlan is Appalachia at its finest.  We’re proud of our heritage.  We’ll tell anyone who’ll listen.  Unfortunately, many times those people won’t understand a damn word we say.

When I was 18, I went to college but not very far from home.  I attended the University of Kentucky, a mere 3 hours (at most) from Harlan County.  There were a lot of Eastern Kentuckians at U.K., and those folks became my friends.  As one friend from Bell County (Harlan’s next door neighbor) told me “We’re like Indians.  We’re lost when we leave the reservation, so we have to hang together.” So we did.

I met people from different places, and they talked funny.  They had accents.  We did, too, but not so bad.  I knew plenty of people in Harlan with accents, heavy mountain accents.  They were hard to understand even for a native.  I didn’t sound like that.  Or so I thought.

When I was 19, I met a girl from Louisville–Kentucky’s big city.  She broke the news to me about my accent. For example, I pronounced the word “light” all wrong.  It has a short “i”, not the long, flat “eyyyyyye” I used.  In fact, I was practically saying “lat” instead of “light.”  Damnation.  Who knew?  She complained about my mumbling.  Little did she know, that she should been have happy that she couldn’t understand everything I was saying.

Once someone talks about your accent, the relationship is doomed, I suppose.  Nevertheless, I realized that I did have an accent.  I’ve been cognizant of it ever since.  You can’t tell I have an accent by reading this, but I do.  It’s a pretty thick one, too.  You know what?  I don’t give a fat damn about it.  [“Fat damn” sounds really good with my accent, by the way.]

What kind do I have?  Appalachian.  That’s not southern.  I don’t sound like Foghorn Leghorn, although folks in the Northeast will ask me if I’m “from the South.”  I’m not from the South.  I’m from the Mountains.

Our accents are a mountain drawl combined with a distinct mumble.  Our words run together but kind of slowly.  We aren’t fast talkers.  Go to Michigan if you want to hear that.  Our accents have so butchered the English language over time that translation is often required:

You from upair? Translation:  Are you from up there? [Up where, you ask?  Upair.]

Them yor people?  Translation:  Are you related to those people? 

He done got farred.  Translation:  That fellow was discharged from his employment.

Gimme em warcutters.  Translation:  Please hand me those wire cutters.

He thoed that out the winder.  Translation:  He threw that item out of the window.

I et a mater sammich yesterdee.  Translation:  I dined on a tomato sandwich yesterday.

Them fellers fit upair.  Translation:  Two gentlemen from up there engaged in fisticuffs.

He clum upair and worked on the chimley.  Translation:  He climbed up on the house to repair the chimney.

These are but a few examples, extreme though they may be.  We’ll say “tar” instead of “tire.” Someone may be “lexicuted” rather than electrocuted.  We fish with “minners,”not minnows.  People live in hollers or they may holler at you.  We’ll even “GARNT-tee” something for you.  We can do all of this but you won’t have a damn clue if we explain it to you.

So, you’re thinking:  “You people are ignorant hill jacks.”  No, we’re not.  That’s just how we talk.  I guess we have our fair shares of idiots, but almost all of us have accents which render us, to some extent, incomprehensible.

Now, not all mountain people have accents.  Some work very hard to get rid of them or to never have them.  I’m cool with that.  That’s not how I was raised, though.  We just talked how we talked.  We didn’t really think about it much, except for my mother who was a stickler for correct grammar.  She pointed out to me on many occasions that only the lowest of trash used double negatives.  “Ain’t” made her practically shriek, but not as much as “hain’t” did.

I do feel a bit bad for the folks who lose their accents.  They become sort of like people from Nebraska.  Try to say something and sound like someone from Nebraska.  You can’t, because no one knows what they sound like.  I can identify an Appalachian accent in about 5 seconds.

One group I don’t care about is those who shed their accents because of their shame of coming from the mountains.  They don’t want to sound like us.  It’s embarrassing.  They’re above that.  They are the same folks who pontificate about people in the mountains need, when in truth they wouldn’t care if the place was used for nuclear waste disposal.

So, how thick is my accent?  I was eating at my neighborhood Waffle House recently, when the waitress asked where I was from.  When I said Harlan, she said “I thought so.”  Oh, she then added:  “Half my family is from Harlan–the half we don’t speak to.”

Recently, I was in Las Vegas and struck up a conversation with a couple of strippers on the street.  One asked:  “Where are you from?  Your accent is so cute.”  I gave her five dollars.  I also met aspiring rapper, Young Cheese.  Even he asked me where I was from.

These ladies like my accent. That's not so bad, is it?

These ladies like my accent. That’s not so bad, is it?

The obvious downside to my accent is that I am often incomprehensible to the untrained ear.  I once ordered lunch in a restaurant in Gloucester, Massachusetts.  The waitress couldn’t understand me nor could I her, yet we were both speaking English.  My lunch companions worked as translators.

My own wife struggles to understand me, and we have lived together for over half our lives.  Here is a typical exchange:

ME:  What’s for dinner?

HER:  What?

ME:  What’s for dinner?

HER: Huh?

ME:  DINNER!  WHAT ARE WE HAVING?

HER: Don’t yell at me!

ME:  I have to yell.  You can’t hear.

HER:  What?

ME:  YOU! ARE! DEAF!

HER:  I am not! You mumble!

…and so on and so on. It always ends with my wife pointing out that her friend Lisa can’t understand me, either.  Maybe I do mumble, but you’d think 26 years would be enough time for someone to get used to it.

 [In my defense, I would note that my father often accused my mother of mumbling.  He was almost completely deaf, yet never conceded that his lack of hearing was an issue.]

As a lawyer, my accent comes in handy.  I handle many cases in Eastern Kentucky and sound the part with no real effort.  Occasionally, it’s a hindrance.  I recently tried a case in Illinois, and explained to the court reporter that she may have problems understanding me.  She did.

Mountain accents help in other ways, too.  They are really good when you threaten someone.  If someone with Locust Valley Lockjaw says he’ll kick your ass, you’ll laugh in his face.  When someone from Harlan says it–male or female–it has a ring of truth to it.  “I’ll whup your aaasss” just sounds serious.  It also makes curse words sound better. “Hell” comes out like “Haaaiiil.” Shit becomes “I don’t give a shiiiiiit.”  It creates an emphasis that others lack.  There are many more examples that good taste prevents me from discussing here.

The only time my accent bothers me is when I hear it.  I’ll hear myself on video and think “Man, oh man, I sound like a weed bender.”  I guess I do.

Naturally, many folks hear us talk and think we’re dumb. Many of these people are, in fact, dumb people with different accents. Sure, if we’re interviewed on TV, there may be subtitles, but we’re not dumb–at least not all of us. If you ARE dumb, a mountain accent won’t help. Nevertheless, it won’t actually make you dumb.

Of course, we aren’t the only people who sound funny.  New Englanders sound funny, too.  So do folks from Wisconsin.  New Yorkers are hard to understand, just like people from the deep south.  Appalachians just have the disadvantage of being in perhaps the last remaining group of people who can be openly derided with no repercussions.

Now, read this again in your best Appalachian accent. If you still don’t get it, watch the TV show Justified. It’s set in Harlan County, and they do a good job with the accents. Maybe you’ve seen the Patrick Swayze classic, Next of Kin. There are some good accents in that one, with the exception of Liam Neeson. I’m not sure what he was doing, but I’ve never heard anyone sound like that.

Aint’ got nuthin left to say about this hyere–nary a word.  I’m still upair in Lexington, but I’ve still got people in Harlan.  Reckon I’ll stay hyere, unless I end up somewheres else.  Proud to know you uns.  Holler at me if you get up this way.

©www.thetrivialtroll.com 2014

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In Praise of the Common Cold

Let’s talk about the common cold.  I’ve been suffering from a cold.  We suffer from colds, just as we suffer from tuberculosis or cancer.  Okay, maybe those are different, but it’s still proper to claim suffering.  Both TB and cancer have one advantage–they are, to some extent at least, curable.  The cold is not.

The cold is known by many names–nasopharyngitis, rhinopharyngitis and acute coryza.  You can have a head cold or a chest cold.  I’ve heard people down in the mountains of Kentucky where I grew up claim to have a “cold in the back,”  which is, quite frankly, medically impossible.  I’m not a doctor, but even I know better than that.

Not only is the cold incurable, it’s not even preventable.  Oh, you can wash your hands like Howard Hughes if you’d like.  You’ll still get a cold.  Forget about antibacterial cleansers.  It’s not a bacterium.  Same goes for antibiotics.  That’s right:  Antibiotics, the miracle drugs, are useless when faced with the common cold.

There is no vaccine, and there probably won’t ever be one.  Hell, I’m vaccinated against diphtheria, and I don’t even know what that is.  I don’t know anyone who’s had diphtheria, but everyone I know has had a cold.  Maybe that’s because of the vaccine.   The cold’s strength is that it has many causes, rendering it impervious to vaccination.

Dozens of viruses can cause a cold.  Think about that.  How can you avoid them all?  You can’t.  They’re everywhere.  Shake hands with someone.  That person might have just coughed the virus into his hand.  Consider all the weird crap flying around in the air that you can’t see.  Doorknobs, car handles, coffee cups, keyboards, telephones, cute babies, kindly dowagers, rank strangers, good friends, family and everything and everyone else on Earth are crawling with viruses.  We have no defense.

According the Mayo Clinic–and that’s a plenty smart crowd right there–the virus can come in through your mouth, nose and eyes.  EYES?  Okay, I’ll just close my eyes and hold my breath.  Now, I’m safe.

The most common cold virus is the rhino-virus.  That just sounds awful.  You think the Bird Flu is bad?  How about catching something from a freakin’ rhino?

The bottom line is that the cold is everywhere. Hence, it is common, I suppose.  You’re going to catch it or, more accurately, it will catch you.  When it does, all sorts of weirdness happens.

The human body is amazing machinery.  Despite our best efforts to destroy it through neglect and abuse, it keeps chugging along.   Then, we are exposed to the cold, and it gets us.  The virus crawls into us, and we don’t even know it.  We can’t avoid it.  If it were more difficult to contract, perhaps we’d have a chance.  “Say, would mind holding my snot rag?”  No civilized person would ask such favor nor would any sane man agree to this request.  We will, however, gladly shake the hand of a stranger.  The cold knows this.

A bit of good news is that you can’t catch a cold from actually getting cold.  You can go outside naked, and you won’t get sick.  Your neighbors might, but you’ll be okay–assuming you don’t freeze to death.   The belief that a cold is caused by cold air is an old wives’ tale, and we know old wives are terribly unreliable.  In fact, you’re more likely to never catch a cold if you just stand outside–far away from people with colds.

We’ve all had colds.  Sometimes, they aren’t too bad–just a few days of sniffling and coughing.  Sometimes–like the one I now have– they are awful.  You ache and cough and sneeze.  Your head fills with enough mucous to supply a healthy human for years.  You don’t sleep well.  You’re tired all the time.  Give it a week, and you’ll feel better.  That’s how it goes with colds.

How do you know if you have a cold?  Well, the snot is a good indicator. The cold causes us to produce prodigious amounts of mucous.  I guess there’s a reason for that, but it’s really gross.  You can try to blow it all out through your nose, but that never works.  As soon as you expel some copious amount, somehow it fills right back up.  Plus, you then have the displeasure of handling or perhaps carrying with you a snot rag–the nastiest of all accessories.

Most of the time, we have no choice but to actually swallow the mucous as it continually drains into our bodies.  Any time you sniffle, you’re really just sucking the snot back into your head so that you can swallow it.   You’re constantly producing and drinking snot.  No wonder a cold makes you feel so bad.

(As aside, my mother did not allow the use of the word “snot.”  She said it “nauseated” her.  She preferred “mucous” or “phlegm,” one of the nastiest words in the English language.)

By the way, have you ever seen one of those people who just blows his damn nose on the ground?  (I say “his,” because I’ve never seen a woman do it.)  This guy kind of pinches the end of his nose, pulls it slightly and cuts loose.  It should be okay to shoot someone who does that.

I heard somewhere that all the stuff that makes you feel bad (coughing, sneezing, runny nose, aches) are actually signs that your immune system is at working attacking the offending virus.  If so, I have a tremendous immune system, because it’s made me feel like road kill for days now.

A sniffle or perhaps some congestion could be the first signs.  Maybe you have a little cough or a sneeze or two.  Then, the mucous factory goes into three shifts of production, 24/7.  The cold has you in its icy grip from which there is no escape, at least for a week or so.  What do you do?

You can take medicine, but it won’t cure you.  It will treat your symptoms, but they won’t go away.  You can take a decongestant.  It will help a little.  Oh, all the mucous is still there, it’s just dammed up in your head now.  Cough medicine can help, especially if it’s laced with codeine or morphine or something like that.  Hell, you’ll still cough, but you won’t care anymore.

I like Mucinex.  It actually makes the mucous drain even faster, turning into a sort of snot water.  I don’t why something that gross makes me feel better, but it does.  Sometimes, I will mix Mucinex with something that does the exact opposite by trying to dry up the mucous.  Maybe I’ll slug some cough syrup as a chaser.  Then, I end up with new symptoms or “side effects,” as the doctors call them.

When I was a kid, my mother would rub vapor rub on my chest and under my nose.  I have no idea what this was supposed to do.  Maybe stinking like that crap makes the cold itself seem like no big deal.

Despite the power and prevalence of the common cold, it still gets little respect.  It’s a common cold, after all.  Ever hear of common cancer?  Ask someone if he or she is sick, you might get this response:  “No. It’s just a cold.”  You’ll never hear:  “I’m fine.  It’s just syphilis.” 

One reason the cold doesn’t get more respect is that it won’t kill you.  It won’t.  There was the Spanish Flu Epidemic.  We’ll never have a Mongolian Cold Epidemic.   A cold just won’t kill you.  It’s like being attacked by swarm of gnats.  It will annoy the Hell out of you and make you miserable; however, in the end, it will spare your life.

It could be that’s the reason there is no cure.  Why waste time trying to cure something that won’t kill people? Our resources are better spent on cancer, AIDS, TB and the like.  Even less deadly diseases like leprosy, polio and small pox are much more serious with their maiming and crippling side effects.  Carrying around a snot rag is no big deal compared to living in an iron lung.

You might now say:  “I know this guy who got a cold, and then died of pneumonia.”  To this, I say:  So what?  That poor bastard died of pneumonia, not a cold.  No one ever died of a cold.  Blame pneumonia if you like, but don’t put that rap on the common cold.

Despite the fact that the cold will not slay us, it still demands respect. It is pervasive and incurable.  Think about all the diseases we can cure now.  Not the cold.  We can’t even vaccinate against it.  Hell’s Bells, we wiped out small pox and are damn close to doing the same thing to polio.  The cold?  Nope.

Consider Magic Johnson.  He was diagnosed with HIV over twenty years ago.  Look at the man now!  He looks great. Feels great.  If he had a damn cold for twenty years, he’d look and feel like crap.  Would it kill him? No, it would not, but after two or three years, he’d be okay with dying.

The cold doesn’t discriminate.  From the homeless to the landed gentry, everyone gets a cold.  If a billionaire gets a deadly form of cancer, you can bet he’ll get every treatment known to man.  It will be much better than you or I would get.  Give that same man a cold, and they’ll hand him a snot rag and a bottle of NyQuil.  He has no more chance of a cure than a vagrant. The common cold:  The disease world’s great equalizer.

Despite making us feel like crud, the cold is relatively gentle in its effects on us.  Yes, you’ll sniffle, but you won’t bleed from your eyes.  You’ll cough a hell of a lot, but your organs won’t fail.  You may get a fever, but it will be low-grade.  You won’t get paralyzed or have seizures or go blind.  You won’t vomit or have uncontrollable diarrhea.  Yes, it may be worse for infants and the elderly, but isn’t that true of all diseases?

So, the cold may well be common.  Indeed, it is likely swirling about your face at this very moment.  You can’t stop it.  Just accept your fate.  It would reckless to suggest that the cold is our friend.  It certainly is not.  It is, however, worthy of our respect as the unconquerable granddaddy of all diseases.  Now, hand me my snot rag.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2014

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Help A Drowning Man

phil

I am awash in a sea of bad information. How did this happen? I’ve spent too much time in the ocean of social media where information is plentiful, but accuracy is sacrificed for speed and volume. How does this happen? The easy answer, of course, is that people are idiots. This knee jerk response is just as flawed as the flotsam vomited out on social media even as you read this. People love outrage. More precisely, they love to be outraged. This is especially true when politics and religion are involved. This causes otherwise intelligent and thoughtful folks to randomly post thoughts, memes and links which are related to reality only by the thin thread of having originated from someone’s mind.

Another answer might be that I spend too much time on social media and should do something else like a read book.  No thank you, Egg Head.  That ain’t happening.  We need to work together.

Phil Robertson is now the millstone around my neck.  If you don’t know who Phil is, then good for you.  You aren’t into social media and perhaps spend your time writing poetry.  If so, you’re probably not reading this anyway. Phil is a “reality TV” star.  His show, Duck Dynasty, is entertaining.  It certainly seems scripted to me, but what do I know?  Perhaps Phil and his family became multi-millionaires while bumbling about like…well…reality TV stars.

I won’t rehash what Phil did.  There’s no point in doing so.  He said things that pissed people off or made people happy.  Outrage ensued.  Many folks–again, otherwise intelligent–have risen to his defense by citing his right to “free speech.”  One poster on Facebook said “What the hell happened to free speech in this country?” The answer is nothing, because Phil’s opinions have nothing to do with free speech.  “But, but, but…he got FIRED!!”  You are correct.  He did get fired.  Free speech, unfortunately, doesn’t prevent that.  “YES, IT DOES!” you scream.  Let’s read the First Amendment of the United States Constitution:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

[Note how I helpfully highlighted the part about “Congress.”]   Congress has made no law regarding speech which affects Phil at all.  In fact, no government official has done anything to Phil.  Maybe you love what he said about gay people and African-Americans.  If so, you have found some common ground with radical Islam.  Maybe you’re a Libertarian sort who supports everyone’s right to speak his or her mind. I really don’t care.   But, let’s all agree to never invoke the First Amendment again on this issue.  We’ll all feel better.  I know I do.  Thanks.

It’s not only the plain language of our Constitution which cause confusion.  Easily verified claims also drive us to hysteria.  Here’s a favorite example. Occasionally, a meme makes the rounds about Presidential and Congressional pensions. It reads:

WAGES

Salary of retired US Presidents……………………….$450,000 FOR LIFE

Salary of House/Senate members……………………$174,000 FOR LIFE

Salary of Speaker of the House……………………….$223,500 FOR LIFE

Salary of Majority/Minority Leaders………………….$194,400 FOR LIFE

Average salary of a soldier DEPLOYED IN AFGHANISTAN ……$38,000

Average income for Seniors on Social Security …………………$12,000

I think we found where the cuts should be made! If you agree, pass it on!

Aren’t you outraged?  This is patently insane.  Why would these people get paid for life!?!?!  What kind of country do we live in?  That’s a valid question but not because of this.  The above information–while outrageous–is incorrect in almost every way. None of these people–not even the President–gets full salary for life. It simply is not true. Does this stop folks from being outraged about it? Of course not. Variations of this meme have been posted many times on social media.  The comments are fairly frothing with their condemnation.   Here’s my suggestion:  When you see something that is so inane as to make you want to immediately post it on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, stop and think.  Since you’re probably on the Internet at the time, do a simple search.  Check the facts.  You’ll be amazed how easy it is to confirm or counter such things.  Again, we’ll all be better for it, and you won’t look like an uninformed ass.

Then there are the half-truths, those items of interest based in reality but twisted into something sort of whole truth.  Here’s a meme making the rounds:

veterans

The House of Representatives passed a budget bill cutting pensions for veterans.  (Not “Veteran’s”).   That much is true.  The reduction is actually a reduction of the cost of living increase for certain pensions.  It’s what I call a “Government Cut.”  A “private cut” is where you make less money next year than you made this year.  It only applies to certain veterans–ones deemed young enough to re-enter the work force.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  This seems like a bad idea.  We’ve worn out our military with endless wars.  The least we could do is leave their pensions alone.  On the other hand, don’t worry about veterans actually getting a cut in their pensions.  The private sector, where there are no pensions anymore, is the only place that happens.

This is a prime example of excellent propaganda. Take a grain of truth, twist into something outrageous and scare everyone. Remember that Hitler got elected by scaring the hell out of people. There’s a reason he had a Ministry of Propaganda.  It works.

Finally, there are those debates that rage over opinions.  Most of these involve politics or religion–two topics which civilized people never discuss.  Bear this in mind:  There are two sides or more to each such debate:

  • Obamacare:  POINT–The program is already failing and far too expensive for the country to afford.  Socialized medicine will lead to reduced services for everyone.  COUNTERPOINT–It’s the law.  Give it time, and the kinks will get worked out.  If socialized medicine is so horrible, why do we provide it to our military veterans.  Wouldn’t they be better off buying their healthcare in the market?
  • Phil Robertson:  POINT–He’s free to speak his mind and express his faith.  Leave him alone.  COUNTERPOINT–People are also free to be offended by his comments.  We don’t have to leave him alone.
  • NSA: POINT–The Government is only gathering data. They have no way to do anything with it. COUNTERPOINT: Yet. There is nothing more un-American than spying on your citizenry.
  • TAXES: POINT–Let’s raise taxes on the highest earners. This would quickly fix all our fiscal problems. COUNTERPOINT–Our government has a history of spending every penny it brings in–and more. Until we fix that, more revenue won’t help.

These few examples show how it works. There are two sides to all theses issues. It just depends on your political prism.

Of course, acknowledging differing opinions isn’t our way. God forbid that we be asked to actually respect another’s views.  We prefer to be right.  In fact, we demand it, even when we are wrong.  I am fortunate to have friends from all walks of life.  Their politics range from Left-leaning Communists to budding Neo-Nazis.  The Right’s take on current events is a combination of moral outrage, moral superiority (always Christian), the U.S. Constitution  (if you don’t like something, it’s unconstitutional) and some nostalgia (such things as whipping children are fondly recalled).  The support Republicans and like all Ayn Rand quotes.  The Left approaches these issues from a different angle, of course.  They are intellectual titans ready to make fun of religion (always Christianity.  They don’t say anything about Islam, Judaism, et al.), cite obscure authors, and engage in relentless name-calling often involving obscene language.  They support Democrats and love to quote Barack Obama, Mahatma Ghandi and hate all Ayn Rand quotes, even though most of them are atheists like Rand.

Here is a typical social media exchange regarding Mr. Robertson, who has eclipsed war, world hunger and random violence as the issue of the day:

  • Original Post:  I stand with Phil!  The Bible says that we will be persecuted for Him! Christians have freedom of speech, too!  Our country is being destroyed!  I will never watch TV again!

[See how our friend has concisely encompassed the significant elements of right-wing rage.  The Bible, persecution, morality, patriotism and broad and incorrect legal principles.]

A response from the Left naturally flows:

  • Comment:  You can stand with that bigoted, homophobic, racist if you like.  I have never seen his show.  In fact, I do not own a television having traded mine for a Navajo Dream Catcher.  Freedom of speech is not an issue here–offensive, racist, homophobic rhetoric is.  The Bible supports all manner of prejudice.  I suggest you read the collected works of Bertrand Russell instead.

[Our Leftist chum has countered with his own salvo.  He engages in name calling that far exceeds anything Mr. Robinson has done but does so from a perch of intellectual superiority. He is above mere TV watching.  He concludes his concise commentary by inferring that atheist mathematician/philosopher Bertrand Russell is a better source for moral guidance than the Holy Bible. Well done.]

This exchange will continue with many additional posts by these and other commentators.  The Right will contend they are right because, well, they are right…or Right.  The Left will froth and name-call, even resorting to the use of vulgarities to make their points.  Ultimately, no one makes any sense and everyone is angry.

I’m embarrassed to admit that I have engaged in this foolishness on occasion, especially when legal principles are misstated.  I forget my advantages in this regard:  1) I have actually read the Constitution; and 2) I graduated from law school.  I, too, have been called names.  One Lefty even called me a racist for correctly noting that the ubiquitous George Zimmerman is Hispanic.  I countered with own my stream of obscenities.  It’s easy to fall into this trap.  I do not judge.

Let’s all commit to work as one to make all this easier for me.  After all, wouldn’t the world be a better place if things suited me?  Don’t be a racist, homophobic, liberal, conservative, Communistic Neo-Nazi, Bible-thumping Atheist.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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A Lawyer’s Guide to Turning Down Work

I’m a lawyer.  I really am.  I have been for 26 plus years.  I’ve always been able to attract clients and must have done a competent job for most of them since I’ve had a lot of repeat business.  This doesn’t make me an expert on business development, as we call it.  Honestly, I’m not sure how best to go about that.  Moreover, the legal world is chock full of advice on building your practice, marketing and generating new business.  It’s doubtful that I have much to add to that vast sea of information, or misinformation, as the case may be.

I once worked in a law firm that was concerned to the point of obsession about generating new business.  “Origination” was the term they used.  If one “originated” enough business, he or she became a “rainmaker,” the most valuable of all lawyers, regardless of legal acumen or lack thereof.  The rules regarding origination credit were Byzantine and ever-changing.  For example, you might think you deserved credit for a new client, only to find out that aged partner had represented an employee of the company on a DUI many years ago.  Thus, he was entitled to the credit.  After all, he had planted the seed decades ago.  As one of my partners once noted:  “The Origination rules aren’t written down.  That’s understandable since they change every day.”

Although I have created my share of personal marketing plans, I claim no expertise.  I’ve thought both outside and inside the box.  I’ve been proactive.  I’ve networked.  I’ve schmoozed and small-talked.  I’ve even found time to practice quite a bit of law.  None of this sets me apart from other lawyers.

The one area where I believe I have something to contribute is in turning down business or knowing when existing business is turning sour.  For a long time, I wasn’t good at this, much to my chagrin.  Now, though, I know the red flags that warn me to stay far away from a potential client or to at least understand my situation.  I’ll share a few of those with you.

1. PRIDE GOETH BEFORE A FALL

At least that’s what it says somewhere in the Bible. It doesn’t really apply here, but I like saying it. Any the who, it goes without saying that we don’t want to represent folks who will refuse to pay us.  Now, this is different from a client who suddenly can’t pay.  I’ve represent several clients–individuals and companies–who sunk into dire finances during my representation of them.  This is a professional risk.  It’s happened to some of my favorite clients.

The ones I’m talking about are the ones who won’t pay.  Here’s a bad sign:  You are the third lawyer they’ve hired on a particular matter.  This is a person who doesn’t play well with others.  Just as important, this person has had bad relationships with other lawyers.  Why?  It probably has something to do with money.  Ask this potential client if he owes the other lawyers money.  If the answer is “yes,” run!  A client that will stiff one lawyer will do it to you.  At least ask for an upfront deposit against your fees.  If they aren’t willing to invest in their case, you shouldn’t either.

Related to this is the client who doesn’t want to discuss your bills.  Oh, he or she paid you regularly for a while, then slowed a bit and finally stopped paying.  You ask about it and are told that the client will be caught up soon.  Don’t worry.  When you hear that, worry. A lot.

Lawyers are an odd breed.  We don’t like to push our clients about bills.  Perhaps we are embarrassed by the amounts we bill.  Maybe it’s just an uncomfortable topic.  Regardless, when you don’t confront, it gets worse.  It’s Business 101 that the older a bill gets, the less likely it is to ever get paid.

The question, of course, is: When is enough enough?  There’s no way to state of rule of thumb here.  Large law firms are able to carry large receivables for a long time.  Small firms like mine can’t.  Here is an exchange which should end your representation immediately (I’ve had some variation of this multiple times):

Lawyer:  Carl, we need to talk about your bills.  We haven’t been paid in six months, and we need to get this caught up.

Client:  I know.  I know.  We have cash flow problems, but we’re working on it.  I don’t know when we’ll be able to get caught up, but we’re good for it.

Lawyer:  I appreciate that, but we can’t commit substantial time and expense without some assurance of getting paid. 

Client:  What do you mean?  Are just going to quit on me?

Lawyer:  I don’t want to do that, but I’ll have to if we can’t get paid.

Client:  You’ve insulted me.  If you don’t want to work on the case, that’s fine…..

See what we have here?  You–a business person–have addressed the most basic need of your business–income.  Your client is insulted by the prospect of having to pay you.  You must run from this client with all haste.  If you don’t, don’t expect to ever get paid again.

2. DON’T REPRESENT CATS

Of course, it’s well-known that there are no cat herds.  Cats don’t do that.  They just scatter about.  Some of your clients are like that.  They aren’t dogs.  They don’t have a leader.  They are cats, scurrying about with no one in charge.  These are not good clients.

The Cat Client comes in various forms–corporations, families, virtually any collective of people.  No one is in charge.  The point person, your “client contact,” as we call it, seems to be the boss until real decisions have to be made.  Then, no one is in charge.  In a corporation, you may hear from the President, the CFO, the in-house attorney or the janitor.  They all have differing views on the goals to be achieved.  If you need a question answered quickly, good luck.

I’ve represented several churches in my career.  Each was a fine organization headed by fine people, but no one was in charge.  The minister works for the church at the pleasure of the Elders or whatever group is supposed to be in charge.  That group has no leader.  They make decisions as a collective.  Getting direction is almost impossible.  You’ll end up frustrated, and so will they.

Families are even more difficult.  Most families are like mine and have no structure whatsoever.  No one is in charge, and they like it like that.

Here’s what you do.  At the first sign of cat-like behavior, set some ground rules.   A contact person is a good start.  Get a list of folks who need to be updated on your case.  You might have to paper or email them into submission, but it’s worth it.  Better to keep too many in the loop than not enough.

3. IT’S ABOUT THE MONEY

“This isn’t about the money. It’s the principle.” These words send a chill up the spine of all experienced attorneys. It is, after all, about the money–at least most of the time.  The sooner your client comes to that realization, the better off you both will be.

Unless it’s a criminal case or, possibly, a divorce, it’s all about the money. If you sue someone, you want money. If you’ve been sued, you don’t want to pay money. In fact, you may not even want to pay your own lawyer.

Let’s say your client is in a $500 dispute. A good lawyer (or even a bad one who wants to get paid) explains that the client will pay the lawyer far more than $500. If the client responds that he or she would rather pay the lawyer, you must pause, tamp down your greed and repeat your cautionary warning. Slowly and clearly.

If your client persists, go forward but be realistic. At some point, your client will realize that it is, in fact, about the money after all.  When they owe you more than they do the adversary or more than they can possibly recover, they’ll know it’s about the money.  At that point, you may well be the adversary.

4. THEY DON’T REALLY WANT A LAWYER

Given the general public’s disdain for the legal profession, it isn’t surprising that a lot of people–maybe most–don’t want to hire a lawyer.  This is especially true of trial lawyers.  There is a subtle but important difference between needing one and wanting one.

Good clients want to hire you.  They want your advice and expertise.  Some folks–thankfully a small percentage–hire you only because they must.  They do not recognize you as having any specialized knowledge or skill.  Indeed, these clients are prevented from doing your job only because of their dearth of education and lack of professional credentials.  Nevertheless, they know how to do your job better than you do.

They’ll plot strategy for you.  They know the best witnesses.  They even know the questions you should ask during depositions and trials.  During trial, they will hand you helpful notes such as “Ask him if he’s lying!” They will disagree with you about the law.  You will calmly explain a basic concept such as the abolition of Debtor’s Prison, and they will contend that it is unfair.  You will explain that a certain position is not legally sound, and your client will disagree based upon nothing more than his or her idea of what the law should be.

This client will not be pleased with your work.  Monday Morning Quarterbacks rarely are.  If you are prepared for this, by all means go forth.  Such clients are best represented once.  The good news is that their displeasure with you likely means that they will move on to new lawyer anyway (See Item No. 1 above).

I suppose other professions deal with similar issues.  Perhaps cancer patients demand that their oncologists provide certain medications or ask to assist in surgery.  In that case, I’m sure the doctor will continue to prescribe what is best.  Lawyers must do the same.  Keep advising even if your advice is ignored.  Besides, isn’t it just a wee bit satisfying to get to say “I told you so!”?

5. BE A CRIMINAL LAWYER, NOT A LAWYER CRIMINAL

Criminals are entitled to lawyers just like everyone else.  That’s one of the great things about America.  Even if you are guilty, the government still has to prove its case against you.

Where a lawyer gets off base is when he or she becomes the criminal.  Hey, if your client breaks the law, it’s your job to help.  By that, I mean help defend your client, not help your client break the law.  It’s real simple:  If your client is doing something illegal, strongly advise against it, and don’t participate in it.

It’s bad when your client goes to prison.  It’s worse when you go, too.

6.  YOU WANT A WHAT?

Sometimes, people aren’t looking for a lawyer.  They want a “bulldog” or “pit bull.”  Someone once told me that he was looking for “Someone who will get down in the gutter and fight to the death.  Win at all costs!”  Beware of folks like this.  Why?

First, if your self-image is that of an animal or you imagine yourself wallowing in the gutter, you may need therapy.  Second, this type of talk is often code for:  “I want an unethical and, if necessary, dishonest lawyer.”  Third, they want you to engage in all manner of harassing shenanigans that will likely make their fees grow exponentially.  Then, you run into Item Nos. 1 and 3 above.

The best lawyers I’ve known are polite and professional. They zealously represent their client like human beings, not animals.  They don’t harangue their opponents or needlessly fight about every detail.

If you need a lawyer, I’m your man.  If you need a dog, go to the Humane Society.

7.  DEVELOP A NUT ALLERGY

I can’t emphasize this enough.  It is, after all, the most important point of all.  Nuts need and want lawyers just like regular people.  In fact, many nuts require legal representation far more than normal people.  This is because they are frequently embroiled in controversies in which only nutty people are involved.  Identifying nuts, however, is most difficult.

Here’s one sign:  There’s a conspiracy.  A large group of people (often the Government) have conspired against your client.  These conspiracies can involve the judiciary and all other levels of government.  Remember:  If there really is a conspiracy–which does happen sometimes, it will usually be pretty easy to crack.  If it is hidden under layers of impenetrable silence, consider this very real possibility:  It isn’t true.

Another sign:  Vast amounts of paper.  I have had cases involving hundreds of thousands of documents.  Believe it or not, that’s not uncommon.  What is uncommon is a client who presents you with piles of irrelevant paper.  Often, these papers are carried around in their pockets or cars.  You don’t know what they mean.  Neither does your client. But they are important.

A final sign:  The case no one will take.  This is a potential client who describes to you an impossibly lucrative case which no lawyer will take.  These cases involve millions of dollars.  There’s usually a conspiracy and a mountain of irrelevant paperwork associated with the case.  Here are few real life examples that I’ve either heard about or experienced myself:

  • The DeGroot Patents:  These are a series of 19th Century land patents from the Commonwealth of Kentucky under which someone claims vast mineral resources.  You are likely to find that they are junior patents, inferior to the entire rest of the world’s claims.
  • Forced Homosexuality:  This was a guy who sued Eastern Airlines (and many others) for being involved in a nationwide conspiracy to force him into homosexuality.
  • Nigerians:  These folks really need lawyers, usually to help transfer funds stolen from some government enterprise.  If you fall for this one, you deserve it.

Often, you won’t know your client is a nut until deep into the representation.  Be patient.  They will rarely see things your way.  Remember that if they ever come back around.

I guess you noticed that I didn’t really say you should turn down all of this type of work.  Times are tough in the legal profession, and none of us are as choosy as we’d like to be.  That said, if you do turn down this type of work, you won’t be sorry.  After all, sometimes, it really is the principle of the thing.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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JFK Fifty Years Later: Asking the Unanswerable

Like all Americans, I’ve been overwhelmed by coverage of the 50th anniversary of the assassination of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy.  There have been movies, reenactments, documentaries, docudramas and replays of contemporary news footage.  I have concluded two things:  1) JFK is dead; and 2) Someone or some thing shot him.  The rest is subject to debate.

Unlike many scholars who have devoted decades to detailed analysis of the evidence, my research has been limited to two or hours of disinterested television watching.  Much of that has been obscured by the mad cacophony which is a sort of background theme music in my home.  Nevertheless, I am now armed with enough information to wildly speculate about those tragic events.

The Warren Commission was the body charged with investigating JFK’s assassination.  Headed by U.S. Supreme Court Justice Earl Warren, the Commission concluded that  Oswald, acting alone, shot JFK and Texas Governor John Connally from the Texas School Book Depository in Dallas.  Oh, if it were only that simple.   It has become quite clear to me that I know more than the Commission, plus I have no fear of reprisal since I don’t know what the hell happened, either.

This “single gunman” theory has been largely rejected by many erudite scholars, students of history and crackpots.  It is just as likely that JFK was killed as part of a conspiratorial cabal which may or may not have included Lyndon Johnson, the Mafia, the Teamsters, Fidel Castro, Commies, J. Edgar Hoover, the Amish, the Boy Scouts, Israel, the John Birch Society, Opus Dei, the Kiwanis Club and Joe DiMaggio.  I am willing to consider–and embrace–any and all theories.

In 1969, New Orleans District Attorney Jim Garrison tried Clay Shaw for conspiring to kill JFK, resulting in an acquittal after less than an hour of jury deliberations.  Garrison was either a visionary who dared take on the establishment or a complete crackpot.  You decide.

With 50 years of study behind us, you might think that there are unexamined issues left.  Of course, you would be wrong.  I now am willing to ask the tough questions–the real ones–from which others shrink.  Among the questions which no dares ask are:

  • Why was LBJ conveniently in Dallas on that fateful day?
  • Why was Lady Bird Johnson so quickly dismissed as the likely second gunman or gun person, as it were?  From her position in the car behind the President, she alone had a clear shot at his head.
  • Why was suicide ruled out?
  • Earl Warren was a well-known champion of so-called civil liberties.  Isn’t at least reasonable to assume that he may have been a communist sympathizer?
  • How come no one killed Jim Garrison?
  • Where are the suppressed photos of Oswald and LBJ at Jack Ruby’s strip joint?
  • How do you explain the deaths of Earl Warren and Clay Shaw within one month of each other in 1974?
  • Speaking of Earl Warren’s death, why doesn’t Wikipedia tell us the cause of his death at the relatively young age of 83?  Who is editing that page to delete all references to his mysterious passing?
  • Within a year of Warren’s death, Jimmy Hoffa disappeared and mobster Sam Giancana was murdered.  Coincidence or silencing?
  • What deal was struck with Warren Commission member Gerald Ford for his complicity?  Could it have included the Presidency of the United States?
  • Only one year after Warren’s untimely passing, Lynnette Fromme and Sara Jane Moore attempted to assassinate President Ford.  Why have they never denied being part of a conspiracy to wipe out all Warren Commission members?
  • Why didn’t Richard Nixon ever publicly address his relationship or lack thereof with Jack Ruby?
  • Why, when filming such an important event as a Presidential assassination, was Abraham Zapruder’s film of such poor quality?
  • What kind of name is Zapruder, anyway?
  • Why are so many assassins known by three names?
  • Is there anyone under age 50 in the United States named Lee Harvey?  If so, why?
  • How was Jack Ruby so skilled in human anatomy that he knew that shooting Oswald in the stomach would be fatal, as opposed to a head shot which he would have likely survived?
  • Fidel Castro has said that killing Kennedy would have been an “act of insanity” insuring the immediate destruction of Cuba.  Why would anyone believe that Commie?
  • By the way, how in the Hell is Fidel Castro still alive?
  • When Oswald was arrested, he was watching the film War Is Hell  starring Baynes Barron.  Barron was born on the same day as JFK.  How do you explain that?
  • Was Oswald’s wife really as big a nag as portrayed in the TV movie Killing Kennedy?
  • If Oliver Stone’s film JFK isn’t true, how could he make a movie out of it?
  • How powerful is Oliver Stone that no one has killed him yet?
  • What better way would there be for the Mafia to get the Feds off their backs than to murder the President?
  • What is a grassy knoll?

If you can answer any or all of these questions, you may be on to something.  Or not.  We know JFK is dead.  Oswald? Dead.  Ruby? Dead.  LBJ?  Dead.  Connally? Dead.  Warren? Dead.  Garrison? Dead. Lady Bird?  Dead.  Are we seeing a pattern here?  I’ll ask the questions.  You answer them.  It’s safer for me that way.

©thetrivialtroll.com 2013

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Five Things You Don’t See Every Day

As any reader of this blog knows, I grew up in Harlan County, Kentucky.  I’ve written extensively about that before, but I got to thinking about some of the things I experienced there that I haven’t seen since.  Here is a sampling:

THE NERVE GAS EXPRESS

As my readers know, I grew up in Loyall, Kentucky.  When I was a kid, Loyall was home of a Louisville & Nashville Railroad yard, and I lived about 200 yards from the track that ran from the yard to parts unknown.  The 1970’s were the time of the Coal Boom and trains ran day and night.  They were as much a part of life as the sun coming up.  We didn’t give them a thought, until the Nerve Gas Express came to town.

Some one decided to ship old nerve gas by rail to somewhere.  Loyall was on that road to somewhere.  We knew it coming.  It was in the local paper–several times in fact.  People talked about what would happen if the train derailed (which they did sometimes) or, God forbid, there was a real wreck (which almost never happened).  The nerve gas would leak, and we would all die.  Everyone was quite excited.

What was the nerve gas, exactly?  I don’t know–sarin gas maybe. I also don’t know where it was headed.  I do know that it had the capacity to kill us all.

Given the deadly qualities of this Hellish trainload, one might think that the townspeople would have cowered in their basements or taken cover in old bomb shelters.  Remember now, we were Harlan Countians, which means two things: (1) We’re a fearless bunch of hill jacks; and (2) We don’t have a hell of a lot to do most of the time.  As a result, we did what you would expect, and gathered by the railroad track to watch the paralyzing cargo roll through Loyall.  It was reminiscent of the episode of the Andy Griffith Show where all of Mayberry gathered in town to see the “gold truck” pass through.

REPLACE "GOLD TRUCK" WITH "NERVE GAS," AND YOU GET THE PICTURE

REPLACE “GOLD TRUCK” WITH “NERVE GAS,” AND YOU GET THE PICTURE.

I should note that my Dad talked quite a bit about how stupid it was to watch a train go by.  He thought it was especially dumb since the only possible excitement was the annihilation of all the spectators.  He noted several times that if the gas leaked, you could get the same thrill of being gassed hanging out in your house.  He was not a fan of the Nerve Gas Express.

Just as planned, the train came through Loyall.  Unlike the Andy Griffith Show, I don’t think it was decoy.  As far as I know, it contained enough nerve gas to kill every man, woman, child and beast in the county.  I’ll admit that I watched it go by.  It was just a train, but everyone seemed pleased.  No one cheered, although that would have been somehow appropriate.  There were no protestors.  No one died.

THE WONDERS OF DUCT TAPE

Okay, the entire world knows about duct tape now, but there was a time when it was actually used mostly for duct work.  In the 1970’s, for example, it wasn’t as ubiquitous as today.  Naturally, we called it “duck” tape, just as many people do today.

I knew this guy who used it for everything.  Have you ever seen a shotgun held together with duct tape?  I have.  He had a Stevenson shotgun (12 gauge, as I recall), which he affectionately called “Stevie.”  Stevie had fallen into disrepair to the point that the stock (that’s the wooden part for you novices) fell off.  Duct tape fixed that.  He simply taped it back together.  I never saw him fire it, but swore it held together.  I have my doubts.

The same guy also made his own boots.  How, you ask?  Three pairs of tube socks and duct tape.  I’m not kidding.  He said they were both comfortable and water tight.

Okay, that’s actually TWO things you don’t see every day–duct taped a duct taped shotgun and duct tape boots.  I’m proud to say that I’ve seen them both, on the same day, in fact.

THE COAL MONUMENT

I’m sure other coal-producing counties have their tributes to coal mining, but we had–and still have–a genuine monument:

Our monument is in Baxter--right in the middle of traffic (such as it is).

Our monument is in Baxter–right in the middle of traffic (such as it is).

You have to navigate your way around the monument, which isn’t too tough these days.  Back in the 1960’s and ’70’s, this was the main drag to Harlan and quite busy.  Plus, Ken’s Drive-In was a popular eatery across from the monument.  For the uninitiated, this was as much a traffic hazard as it was a historical marker.  Nowadays, one could comfortably nap in this intersection.

We should salute the builders of the Coal Monument.  As I write this, I am 51 years old, and the Monument has been there as long as I can remember.  As far as I know, it’s never even been repaired.  I don’t know who build it, when or why it’s in Baxter.  If anyone knows the story behind it, please let me know.

If you live in Baxter, Kentucky, it’s probably wrong to say you don’t see something like this every day.  In fact, you may well see this every single day, but I don’t know many people who live in Baxter.  Close enough.

COON ON THE LOG

The only Coon on the Log contests I’ve ever seen were in Harlan County at the Fish and Game Club.  What is that, you ask?  It involves 1) A raccoon; 2) A log; 3) Water; and 4) Dogs.  Here’s how it worked.  A raccoon was tied to log.  The log was placed in the middle of a pond.  The dogs swam out to the log–one at a time, of course–and attempted to knock the raccoon off the log.  Simple enough. Now, you ask, what is the entertainment value in that?

You might be a city person who thinks raccoons are cute, like their cuddly cousins, the Pandas.  You would be wrong.  Raccoons are, in fact, vicious critters.  They have sharp teeth and long, razor-like claws.  They also have bad dispositions.  They might rabies, too, although I don’t believe that is true with competition-level raccoons.  Knocking one of these nasty bastards off a log is no mean feat.  They fight.  They claw.  They bite.

I was probably 6 years old or so when I attended the Coon on the Log.  My Dad took my brother and me. We sat by the pond and watched the dogs do battle with the hellish beast.   I only remember one dog.  He was black hunting dog of some sort and could swim like a fish.  He swam out the log and immediately engaged the raccoon.  They fought tooth and nail until the raccoon managed to claw the dog’s face, sending him back to shore much worse for the wear.  The next year, the dog was back, this time with a scarred face.  I recall that he vanquished the raccoon.  Honestly, it could have been a different less fierce raccoon, but I remember being pleased for the dog nonetheless.

I know you animal lovers are poised over your keyboards to attack me and, possibly, my late father, like a rabid, typing raccoon.  This is not an endorsement of Coon on the Log contests.  PETA hates them, as you would expect.  I doubt that they are very popular anymore, having gone the way of Donkey Basketball and Greased Pig Contests.  (I’ve attended both of these events, too, and they were quite entertaining; however, I do understand why the use of cattle prods in a basketball game is now frowned upon).  These days, people get all torn up over monkeys riding dogs (possibly the most entertaining thing on Earth, by the way).  The Coon on the Log doesn’t stand a chance.

TIRE WALKING

My Dad didn’t throw away things.  He always figured he could use them as some point.  Old magazines, engine parts and the like might come in handy.  For example, when I was a kid, he found a six-pack of beer and put in the trunk of his car.  While Dad was fond of Scotch and Bourbon, he didn’t drink beer.  But he knew a guy who did.  He said he would give the six-pack to that guy.  I don’t think he ever did, but he drove around with that six-pack in the trunk of his car for several years–just in case.

Among Dad’s collection were old tires.  He would change tires on his cars but keep the old ones.  You never know, he might need them one day.  During a summer of my childhood, my friend Jimmy and I were bored, having exhausted the possibilities of bike riding and playing Army.  So, we started rooting around in my garage where we happened upon two tires.  We could do something with those.

The first thing we tried was walking on them, kind of like a circus bear walking on a ball.  It just couldn’t be done.  Even though we were both slight of build, our inconsiderable weight caused the tires to collapse.

Then, we came up with Tire Wrestling, which consisted of rolling the tires at each other and diving on them.  That was kind of fun, but we couldn’t devise a scoring system.  So, there ended up not being much point to it.  It never caught on, not even with Jimmy and me.

I didn’t give up on the idea of walking on tires but just couldn’t master it.  Then, Uncle Jack showed up.  My Uncle Jack was my Dad’s younger brother and probably in his 40’s at the time.  As a bachelor, Jack spent a lot of time at our house.  Jack had all kinds of tricks.  He would pull out his dentures and put a cigarette between them and make the cigarette bounce up and down.  He could play a mean harmonica.  He could shuffle cards like a magician.  He was always entertaining.

Jack was a small man, about 5′ 5″, maybe 140 pounds.  His hair was the kind of silvery-white you want if your hair turns gray.  He was quick with a joke or some smart-ass comment, and always laughed at his own stories.  He chain-smoked Phillip Morris non-filter cigarettes.

One day, I was on the back porch with a tire leaned against the side of the porch, studying the possibilities.  Our porch was a wooden structure about 3 or 4 feet high with railing only on the sides and 5 or 6 steps on the left hand side.  I was on the steps when Jack and Dad stepped out on the porch.

“Whatta ya know, boy?” Jack asked (this was the same greeting I got from Jack for the remaining 40 years of his life).  I explained that I had tried to walk on the tire but couldn’t do it.  Jack said, “Let me see that tire.  I can do that.”  Dad looked at Jack and said, “Now, Jack, you’ll break your neck on that thing.”

Jack ignored Dad, as he usually did whenever Dad started a sentence with “Now, Jack….”  Jack balanced the tire perpendicular to the porch, stuck his cigarette in the corner of his mouth and grabbed the side rail of the porch with his left hand.  He was ready to roll.

He did it.  It was the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.  He just stepped off the porch on top of the tire and took off.  He looked like a tap dancer on hot coals.  His arms stuck out to side for balance and a thin trail of cigarette smoke coursed behind him like a contrail.

Had we owned a clothes dryer, I’m confident that he would have made all the way across the yard to the back fence.  As it was, our clothes line ended the ride.  It caught Jack just under the chin and flipped him backward off the tire.  He slammed to the ground like bag of sand.  For a moment, he didn’t move.  Then, he hopped up, grabbed his smoke off the ground and just laughed.  Dad was laughing himself into a fit on the back porch.  If you think walking on a tire is easy, try it sometime.

I could tell a lot of other stories about Jack but that one stands out.  Jack was always entertaining.  Every kid needs an Uncle Jack.

Well, that’s it.  Five things you don’t see every day.  If you’re ever in Harlan County, ask a local for directions to the Coal Monument.  I can’t promise you that will see any of the other things I described, but I’m confident that the Monument will still be there.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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Amazing Hard-to-Believe Trivia

Now that I’ve grabbed you with that stunning title, I must confess that none of what you will read here is either amazing or hard to believe, that is, unless you really haven’t done or seen much in your life.  Maybe you’re 2 years old.  If so, the fact that you can read is amazing and hard to believe in itself.

Regardless, this is trivia, which is defined as “matters or things that are very unimportant, inconsequential, or nonessential.”  What is this trivia about?  Me, of course.  It’s Me Trivia.  Perhaps you have certain trivia about yourself which you find interesting.  That is what we call You Trivia, and you won’t find any of that here unless, by sheer coincidence, we share certain common trivialities.

Here we go:

  1. I’m afraid of heights, terrified in fact.  Enclosed places don’t bother me.  For example, flying is no big deal.  However, standing on a balcony three stories up or climbing a ladder are problematic.
  2. I’m 5 feet, 8 inches tall.  I could swear I was 5′ 9″ at one time.
  3. I have tiny feet.  Size 8–like matchboxes.  I’m surprised that I can even keep my balance.
  4. I have a terrible jump shot.  It’s a flat, no spin heave.
  5. I have difficulty telling left from right.
  6. I haven’t driven a stick shift in 30+ years, and I don’t expect to ever drive one again.
  7. I have vomited in public–more than once.
  8. I have a massive baseball card collection.
  9. I’m a tad claustrophobic
  10. I met Chuck Norris.
  11. I also met Captain Kangaroo.
  12. For some reason, I tried to learn how to juggle–and failed.
  13. I can’t go to my left, assuming I know which direction that is.
  14. I quit playing golf after I beat a pitching wedge against a tree.
  15. I have had drinks thrown on me–several times.
  16. For reasons that baffle me, I really like Gordon Lightfoot’s The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
  17. I have never felt like dancing.  Not even one time.
  18. I haven’t been in many fights, but I always fight dirty.
  19. Apocalypse Now is my favorite film.
  20. Slaughterhouse Five is my favorite book.  Or maybe it’s East of Eden.
  21. Crickets are the most terrifying of God’s creatures.
  22. It is well-known in some circles that I was runner-up in the Loyall Spelling Bee.
  23. I’ve never heard a Jim Croce song that I didn’t like.
  24. I find Tina Fey attractive.
  25. I always think foreign people will understand me if I yell at them.

So, there they are:  25 facts about me.  Now you know me better, and isn’t that what we all want?  Of course, I know you no better than I ever did, which suits me just fine.  That’s not to say that you aren’t fascinating in your own right.  It’s just that I remain more interested in me.  One final piece of trivia:  I was once evaluated as borderline narcissistic.  I didn’t include that, because it was obviously done by a quack.

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Government Shutdown FAQ Page

As a public service, I shall now address the most frequently asked questions about the Government shutdown.

WHAT IS THE GOVERNMENT?

In this case, it’s the federal government, as opposed to your state, city or county government.  I live in an area with a merged city-county government.  It is sort of like Christian Rock combining the worst of elements of two conflicting disciplines.  The federal government is described in the United States Constitution.

The federal government has three branches:  1) Executive (the President and all his minions); 2) Legislative (Congress); and 3) Judicial (Courts).  The Shutdown involves primarily the Legislative Branch.

WHAT IS CONGRESS?

Our Congress has two parts.  The Senate consists of like 50 or 100 senators or possibly more.  The House of Representatives contains God knows how many people, maybe 1,000.  They make the laws, sort of.  Mostly, they just disagree about what the laws should be.  This is because the Republicans control the House and the Democrats control the Senate.  John Boehner, a leathery-faced chain smoker from Ohio, is the Speaker of the House.  Harry Reid, a feckless milquetoast from Nevada, leads the Senate.  They do not get along with each other.  Although Reid used to be a boxer, my money is on Boehner in an actual fight.

Congress has an approval rating of less than 10%, putting it just ahead of syphilitic dementia and just behind root canals in popularity.

WHAT IS A SHUTDOWN?

It’s where the government doesn’t have enough money to operate and shuts down a bunch of stuff.  They won’t shutdown everything.  We’ll still have air traffic controllers, prison guards and, of course, Congress.

WHY DO THEY CALL IT A SHUTDOWN?

Not everyone calls it that.  Fox News calls it a “slim down,” which sounds like a really positive thing. It might be a real positive, unless you’re one of the million or so people not getting paid during it.

Others call it a slow down, as though the government could actually move any slower than it already does.

HOW DID IT GET SHUTDOWN?

The House controls spending and won’t agree to fund anything unless part of Obamacare is delayed for a year AND members of Congress are required to participate in it.  The President and, hence, the Senate refuse to agree to this, saying that the law is law.  So, both sides would rather have much of the government grind to all a halt than compromise.

WHO SHUT IT DOWN?

That’s hard to say.  There are three schools of thought:

The Right:  Folks on the right (the “Conservatives”) say that the President did it.  Why?  First, they hate the President, so he has to be blamed.  Second, the President is a Democrat, and the Conservatives are not Democrats.  They blame the President for the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act a/k/a Obamacare.  They don’t like Obamacare and don’t want it implemented, even though it is now the law.  So, the House won’t agree to fund any of the government unless there are changes made.

The Left:  Those on the left (the “Liberals”) blame the Conservatives, more particularly the Republicans.  They don’t want to negotiate with the Republicans.  So they don’t.  They hate the Republicans.  As a result, they don’t really want to talk to them at all.  Their hate of the Republicans is probably the reason they made Obamacare a law to begin with.

Everyone Else:  The remaining Americans (the “Victims”) don’t know who the f**k to blame and don’t give a rat’s ass.

WHAT IS OBAMACARE?

I’ve written extensively about that before.  No one really knows, but it exists.

WHO IS MY CONGRESSMAN?

I have no idea.  Just pick one.  They’re all about the same.

WHY WOULD ANYONE VOTE FOR THESE PEOPLE IN CONGRESS?

You got me on that one.  No clue.

SO, IS THERE NO GOVERNMENT NOW?

It’s not really shut down completely.  Let’s say you worked in factory, and it got shut down.  There would still be security guards and some maintenance people working.  It’s kind of like that, but completely different.

Mostly, they’ve just furloughed a lot of employees.  That means they’ve told them not to come to work. Of course, they also don’t get paid. For example, of the 1500 employees of the Bureau of Labor Statistics, only three are working.  Those three are complying statistics on how many people in the Bureau of Labor Statistics aren’t working.

If you are a “non-essential” employee, you’re not working.  “Non-essential” means they don’t really need you, which begs the question of why they’re paying you to begin with.

I’M A NON-ESSENTIAL EMPLOYEE.  WHY DO I HAVE TO WORK?

That’s likely because you don’t work for the government.  Private sector non-essential employees should still report to work and pretend to be busy like usual.

HOW MANY FEDERAL EMPLOYEES ARE THERE?

Something like 3,000,000, and that doesn’t include the military, CIA, NSA and a bunch of others.  That’s more than Walmart, IBM and McDonalds combined.  The Department of Homeland Security has 230,000 employees itself.  That’s hell of a lot but only one for every 1300 people in the country.  They can’t really protect all of us, can they?

IS CONGRESS GETTING PAID?

What kind of idiot are you?  Of course, they’re getting paid.  The Congressional barber shop, gym and shoe shine service are closed, though.  So, they are suffering but not as much as Congressional Barbers, Shoe Shiners and Gym Attendants.  Besides, if Congress doesn’t get paid, the Washington D.C. prostitution industry will collapse.

I’M IN A TENT AT A NATIONAL PARK.  WHAT’S THE DEAL?

You have 48 hours to get the Hell out.  If you don’t, the NSA will turn bears loose on your campground.

DOES THIS AFFECT THE NFL?

Luckily, no.

CAN I GET FREE HEALTH INSURANCE?

Probably not, unless you’re really poor or a member of Congress.

ARE THE PEOPLE WHO LISTEN TO MY PHONE CALLS FURLOUGHED?

No, we’re not.

DOES ANY OF THIS AFFECT MY OBAMACARE BRAIN IMPLANT?

Yes.  For the time being, the microchip implant has been deactivated.  You’ll know when it restarts, because you’ll piss your pants a couple of times.

ARE THE DEATH PANELS STILL WORKING?

Yes, they are.  Much like jury duty, you may be called to serve at any time.

SO, I GUESS THERE ARE NO COPS? (ASKING FOR A FRIEND)

You’re wrong about that.  Most cops are state employees anyway.  Plus, I know an FBI agent, and he’s still working, although it’s questionable about whether he’s being paid.  Imagine how surly he’d be if he had to bust your ass for free.

DO I STILL GET MY MAIL?

Yes.  The Postal Service isn’t affected, because it generates income from postage.  Somehow a business that loses billions of dollars can still deliver a letter for you 3000 miles away for 46 cents.  Go figure.

I’M DRUNK AND DON’T UNDERSTAND ANY OF THIS

First, that’s not a question. Second, your drunkenness does not explain your lack of understanding.  Many teetotalers, including the few sober members of Congress, don’t understand any better than you.

WHY ARE THEY TAKING OUR GUNS?

That’s a Frequently Asked Question About The United Nations.  I can’t answer it.

WHY CAN’T A GOOD GUY WITH A GUN STOP THIS?

Mr. LaPierre, I told you to quit posting questions.

WHAT’S THE PRESIDENT DOING?

How should I know?  Golf?  Vacationing?  Fighting evil?  Doing evil?  Just the usual stuff that Presidents do, I guess.

DO YOU THINK YOU’RE THE BOSS OF ME?

Yes.

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER:  THE FOREGOING REPRESENTS THE OPINIONS, SPECULATION AND ASSUMPTIONS OF THE AUTHOR.  ALTHOUGH I AM A LICENSED ATTORNEY, NONE OF THE ABOVE SHOULD BE CONSIDERED OR RELIED UPON AS LEGAL ADVICE.  IN FACT, MUCH OF IT IS INACCURATE AND/OR FALSE.  IF IT WERE ACTUAL LEGAL ADVICE, I WOULD SEND YOU AN EXORBITANT, YET REASONABLE, BILL FOR MY SERVICES.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress 2013

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