The Republicratic Commonwealth of Kentucky

Someone sent me an insightful email suggesting that each state in the United States declare its own sovereignty and refuse to follow any federal laws except those they find acceptable. It also recommends such things as jailing of illegal immigrants, drug testing welfare recipients, no gun laws and other acts of sovereignty. It got me thinking about doing this in my home state, the Commonwealth of Kentucky.

If you’ve read much of this self-indulgent blog of mine, you know I’m a lawyer. Anything like that email sets my mind spinning. For instance, states can’t refuse to follow federal law. We have a local sheriff here in Kentucky who claims that he won’t enforce any new gun laws and will arrest anyone who does. Once you get past the laughable image of this guy trying to arrest FBI and ATF agents, you can see that such defiance–if real–amounts to insurrection.

This type of “sovereignty” is secession from the union. States have no right to secede. Before you start screaming, read Texas v. White from the United States Supreme Court. That’s the law. There are exceptions. First, there is armed rebellion. Second is by agreement. Since Kentucky doesn’t have a military (The National Guard belongs to the feds but more on that later), we’d have to hope for agreement of the rest of the states. Let’s face it, we’re Kentucky. They might let us leave. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.

Nevertheless, I’m willing to ignore the United States Constitution and decades of jurisprudence to entertain the notion of Kentucky as its own sovereign state. What would we look like?

GOVERNMENT

We call Kentucky a Commonwealth, just like Virginia, Pennsylvania and Massachusetts call themselves. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a leftover from colonial times. The only problem I have with it is that it sounds vaguely communistic. Let’s move on.

As some Americans are aware, we have a republican democracy. We elect representatives who (theoretically, at least) represent our interests. They pass laws which are executed by our executive branch and enforced by our courts. Some believe we have the greatest country on Earth with the greatest form of government. I say bullshit to that.

If we’re going to secede, that means we don’t like the federal government. We don’t want it. We don’t need it. There’s no point in looking anything like it. Kentucky has 4.25 million people spread over a mind-boggling 120 counties. Each county is already its own little fiefdom with elected officials, courthouses, graft and whatnot. I say let each one run its own affairs. They can set up their own governments. Most will likely become dictatorships in short order–assuming they aren’t already, but give the people what they want.

We’ll be a sort of confederacy of counties, but we’ll still need a constitution of some kind. Kentucky has a constitution, of course. It is approximately 60,000 pages long. Okay, that’s a lie, but it seems that long what with all the bizarre amendments made to it over the years. It’s going to have to be revamped.

One problem is that it is very similar to the United States Constitution. It makes little sense to break away from federal rule only to keep in place the same framework that led to our secession. We probably need the Bill of Rights, and Kentucky’s is pretty similar to the feds. I say we copy the Bill of Rights except the Second Amendment which will now read:

The right to keep and bear arms is absolute and shall not be limited or constrained by any law, regardless of reasonableness or necessity. “Arms” means anything that can kill people or animals, whether intentionally or accidentally.

We probably should replace “Governor” with something like “King” or “Pharaoh” in the rest of it. Honestly, I’ve never read the whole thing. I don’t think anyone else has, either. Maybe we can keep the rest of it.

We’re not the smartest people. Let’s don’t make it too complicated. Maybe we can start out with anarchy and see what happens.

Regardless of the form of government, what will life in our new nation be like?

GUNS

This is an easy one–no gun laws. None. No knife or sword laws, either. Why can’t I defend my family with a saber if I want? Maybe I want to scatter bear traps around my yard. So be it. Napalm doesn’t incinerate people. People incinerate people.

No background checks. Why can’t a crazy man defend himself from real and imagined threats? The nuttier you are the more guns you should have. How else will we protect the criminally insane?

Next topic.

RELIGION

This is another easy one. We’ll have the Ten Commandments posted everywhere. I mean everywhere–schools, buses, government buildings, private property, sporting events. Without that irrational United States Supreme Court to interfere, we can even post the entire Book of Deuteronomy if we want. Any kid who can’t describe how to build the Temple can’t graduate from high school.

We’ll pray in school–all day long if we want. It will have to be a Christian prayer, of course. Anyone caught on a prayer rug will be subject to ridicule. In fact, we might make such ridicule a constitutional right, too.

We’ll even include somewhere in our new Constitution that Jesus wrote it. That will seem crazy at first, but in a few decades people will debate whether or not it is true.

MILITARY

This one is tough. We can’t have a military. Okay, I know some of you are thinking: “Hey, the state runs the National Guard. That’s our militia.” Well, sort of but not really. Since 1903, the National Guard has been run by the feds and–more importantly–funded by the feds. We can’t do it. Plus, who are we going to fight? Hopefully, it won’t be the United States military. Have seen the toys they have?

Remember that we’re going to have plenty of weapons. I think we’ll have enough to fight off an invasion from Indiana or Tennessee. Besides, the chances of anyone wanting to take over Kentucky are pretty remote.

FINANCES

Kentucky receives about $13,000 per person in federal money per year. That’s a hell of a lot. I’m not good at math, but it’s at least billions of dollars each year. Wow.

We have all kinds of taxes in Kentucky–income, sales, property, usage (WTH?) and a bunch of others. I have no idea what it amounts to but I’m sure it’s not close to what we need. Now, that we’re off the federal teat, it’s time to tighten our belts. If we don’t, we might have to raise tax rates to 120% or so. We can survive but how?

Go for the Gold

With the feds off our backs, they’ll close Fort Campbell and Fort Knox. We’ll give them 48 hours to come and get their gold from Fort Knox–maybe we can keep a little of it, too. Would they really miss a couple of tons?

Schools

Okay, on the surface, this may seem like a big deal, given that we are dependent on the feds for school funding. Not so. Ever heard of home schooling? That’s what everyone did back in the Good Old Days when everything was better. Teach your own kids, you lazy bastards.

Our state universities will be in peril. We should be able to offer at least a few on-line courses at the Universities of Louisville and Kentucky to keep the basketball programs afloat.

Police/Fire

Here’s where our friends in the National Rifle Association will help us. Let’s take the idea of an all-volunteer school security force and expand it to all law enforcement and public safety. With the schools closed, these volunteers will be eager to help out. Besides, every community has dozens–if not thousands–of people who want to carry a gun and wear a badge. Hell, most of them would probably be willing to pay the state.

We have a long history of volunteer fire departments. Let’s just do more of that.

Highways

I’ll concede that federal highway money is helpful but only to the extent that you need highways. I suspect that Kentucky has the highest number of ATVs per capita of anywhere on Earth. If any state is ready for dilapidated highways, it’s this one.

What is Kentucky best known for? If you said illegal meth labs, that may be correct, but I’m talking about horses. We have lots of horses, but I hardly ever see anyone riding them. Saddle up.

Unemployment

Good lord, we have a lot of folks drawing disability checks in Kentucky. No more SSI and don’t expect Kentucky to pick up the slack. If you’re too infirm to work, you should really think about moving to the United States. They have systems for that kind of problem. We don’t.

Here’s how it works. If you can work, get a job. If you can’t, leave or maybe you just starve to death. Problem solved.

As far as welfare, bear in mind that’s another federal boondoggle. It has no place in our utopian world so don’t worry about drug testing. We Kentuckians will be free to consume copious amounts of drugs without fear of Big Brother staring over our shoulders.

Currency

We won’t use the worthless United States currency. We will print our own money, just like in the old days. It will bear pictures of Adolph Rupp, Daniel Boone, Jim Varney and other famous Kentuckians.

Rather than the worthless crap printed in the United States, our money will be backed by a secure commodity. We will go on the Coal Standard. Our money will be backed by the valuable coal reserves in our state, which we will now be free to mine and burn with abandon. Of course, we can’t burn too much of it or we will have to switch to the Weed Standard which also runs the risk of being burned.

HEALTHCARE

Let’s get one thing straight. No government health care–of any kind. Medicare and Medicaid–those behemoths of our former overlords–are gone. They won’t be replaced, either. We’ll adopt what I call the Bachmann Plan: If you want health insurance, get a job. If you can’t get a job, see comments above.

In fact, health care in general will be discouraged. Haven’t we all had enough of a bunch of holier-than-thou eggheads with stethoscopes telling us how to live our lives? The Founding Fathers didn’t put up with such nonsense.

You may be concerned about such inane things as public health, life expectancy and rampant disease. Given that our health care services are likely to be substandard, at least by so-called “Western” standards, we don’t need a bunch of sick people lingering around making the rest of us sick. A quick death is much better for everyone.

IMMIGRATION

We’ll just be flat against it–in all its forms. No one from a foreign country, which now will include the United States, is allowed. Anyone trying to float across the Ohio River will immediately be attacked by our fleet of coal barges. We’ll just shoot people from Tennessee. That won’t bother any Kentuckian. Hell, it probably won’t bother anyone in Tennessee, either. West Virginians will be a problem, but they’re so similar to us it won’t be a big deal.

We’ll round up all the foreigners and deport them. Anyone who looks, dresses, talks or acts the least bit different will be a suspect. We’ll just dump them in the nearest bordering state.

This may sound like a daunting task, but remember–this is Kentucky. Most people are trying to leave, not get in. We can expect enthusiastic cooperation.

We will make limited exceptions for immigrants who obtain a 5 Star Visa. This visa program will be administered by the head basketball coach at the University of Kentucky.

“HEMP”

The people of Kentucky want to legalize hemp but can’t because of the narcs in D.C. Now, we can cut right to the chase and legalize marijuana. Why? Well, it’s our number one cash crop for starters. Also, we can dispense with the foolishness of pretending we want to wear hemp clothing and shred our hands on rotted hemp rope. We want to smoke the stuff, not wear it.

MISCELLANY

Like any young nation, we’ll face challenges. Someone like Ashley Judd will try to become dictator. Louisville will probably try to declare itself a city-state like the Vatican. We’ll need to change the state motto from the axiomatic “United We Stand. Divided We Fall” to something less incongruous. We’re up to these challenges.

What if it doesn’t work out? Simple–we’ll just accept massive amounts of foreign aid from the good old U.S. of A. If that doesn’t work, we have a massive stash of chemical weapons in Richmond. That will invite an invasion by the US and the establishment of a new government. That one never fails.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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Acorns, Bombs and Guns: The Falling Sky

Chicken Little once famously declared “THE SKY IS FALLING!” Of course, he (she?) was wrong–it was an acorn. Sadly, Chicken Little terrified his barnyard companions until they sought shelter in a fox’s den. Only the unfortunately named Cocky Locky survived. The lesson? It was a freakin’ acorn, you moron. Now, Ducky Lucky, Henny Penny and the rest of your friends are dead meat–literally.

We can all agree that Chicken Little was a damn moron. Plus, he was a chicken. Chickens are filthy and disgusting. Why the hell would the other animals listen to one of them, anyway? Now, you probably think I don’t eat chickens, but I do. Why? Because I want to. They’d eat me if they could. Where was I? Oh, yeah, Chicken Little.

(By the way, I have an idea for a post about chickens. I’m not sure the public is ready for it.)

We Americans have much in common with Chicken Little. I’m not saying we wallow in our own filth and stink like hell, although some of us surely do. We do, however, get hit with the proverbial acorn and then scurry about the national barnyard in a panic.

Our latest acorn is the Boston Marathon Bombing. Here’s what we know (or think we know): Two brothers born in the Caucasus region of Russia are alleged to have detonated homemade bombs at the finish line of the Boston Marathon on April 15, 2013. One of them is dead and the other is hospitalized. Since these two were identified, here are just a few of the things I’ve heard from folks, most of whom I consider intelligent (my comments are in red) :

These guys should have been sent back to Chechnya. First, Chechnya isn’t a country. Second, when would we have sent them back? One of them has been in the U.S. since he was 8 years old.
The FBI had been asked to check out the older brother. It’s the FBI’s fault. How do we know the FBI didn’t check him out? There’s no law against being sketchy.
Pressure cookers aren’t designed to be used as bombs. No shit? All this time, I thought KFC was a terrorist front.
All terrorists are Arab. Ahem, Chechnya is not an Arab region.
All terrorists are Muslims. Timothy McVeigh, Terry Nichols, Eric Rudolph, Ted Kaczynski–Not Muslims.
Muslims are dangerous and should be watched. Some are. So are some Christians, Jews and atheists. There are 2.5 million Muslims in the U.S. If they were ALL terrorists, don’t you think we’d notice the constant terrorist attacks? The last time we demonized an entire group of people, we put them in interment camps. No one looks back at that with pride.
No one is safe!! Technically, that’s true. The U.S. has 15,000 or so homicides a year. You can’t really call that being “safe,” but it begs a question: If terrorists are responsible for three of those, who’s killing the other 14,997?
We can’t try these terrorists in civilian courts. Why not? We have a great and fair legal system. It affords the accused many rights but also arms the government with ample resources to prosecute crimes. We become outraged if American citizens aren’t afforded these same rights when accused of crimes in other countries.

Here’s what appears to have happened in Boston. Two followers of some radicalized version of Islam took it upon themselves to build homemade bombs and blow up people. They succeeded. The Muslims in our country aren’t all banded together to destroy our way of life. Relax, Chicken Little.

These weren’t criminal geniuses. They learned to make bombs on the Internet. You can, too. You can also get helpful advice from a book called The Anarchist Cookbook. It wasn’t even written by a Muslim. It was published in 1971. My brother owned a copy.

We also have acorns bouncing off our heads over gun control:

People don’t need ANY guns. Perhaps that’s true, but it’s irrelevant. The U.S. Constitution protects the right to own guns.
You’re wrong! The Constitution only allows a “well-regulated militia” to own guns. No, I’m right. At least that’s the U.S. Supreme Court says.
I must have a gun to protect my family. Where exactly do you live? I’d like to know so I don’t move there.
I must have a gun to protect myself against the government. Which one? If you mean the U.S. government, good luck with that. Have you seen the firepower of the U.S. government?
Well, I have other good reasons to own a gun. You well may, but here’s the deal: You don’t need a reason. You can own one just because you like guns. Hell, you can even own one for the sole purpose of wanting to shoot someone with it.
The Second Amendment is bad. Let’s get rid of it. Interesting take, but here’s your problem–and it’s a big one–it’s very difficult to amend the Constitution. That’s a good thing. It keeps us from tearing it apart with knee jerk reactions. If you can’t get a few guns law passed, your chances of amending the Constitution are less than nil. Move on to something that’s at least possible.
Expanded background checks are the beginning of a police state. No, they aren’t. If that’s true, let’s just get rid of ALL background checks.
If we pass new gun laws, the government will come and take our guns. The only way that can happen is if the government decides to ignore the Second Amendment and a host of other Constitutional rights. If that happens, a few new gun laws will be the least of our problems.
We don’t need new gun laws, because criminals won’t obey them. That’s probably true. Law-abiding citizens obey the law, and criminals don’t. That axiom applies to all laws.
Guns don’t kill people. Again, that’s true. It’s also true that Sarin gas, rocket launchers, grenades and flamethrowers don’t kill people, either. You need a better argument.

The truth is that a few new gun laws won’t hurt us. Who knows? They might even help. I doubt we’ll find out any time soon. My advice? Relax. We have a violent country full of people who like to hunt humans for sport. If you’re one of them, you’ll still be able to get a gun. If you’re a law-abiding citizen, you’ll also be able to get one. If you’re on the other side of the debate, think of this: If you’re right and over 90% of the public wants stricter laws, there will be political backlash. Count on it. Relax.

Bombs and guns. Terrorists and criminals. Law-abiding citizens and victims. Black and white. Acorns and the end. We live in a world now where we can get real-time news reports. During the pursuit of the Boston bombers, you could follow it almost moment-by-moment on Twitter. The news of the world in 140 characters. That’s how we think now. We hear something, and it requires an immediate response. There’s no time to think.

Perhaps this is why there is a visceral reaction to everything now. We color it black or white. I suppose a lot of things are black or white, but those aren’t colors. There are a lot of colors out there. Take a look at the world and you’ll see them. The same thing applies to the big issues of the day. Maybe they’re black and white. Maybe not. It’s at least worth looking at them long enough to tell.

We are an odd people. Most of us, regardless of political leaning, are proud Americans. We love our Constitution and cherish our rights. But, when we thinking the sky is falling, we’ll gladly give up those rights in order to assuage our fears. Could it be that this is the reason that people–whether terrorists, politicians or our friends–try to scare us with the black and white of the world? Maybe the fox tossed that acorn at Chicken Little.

Now, back to acorns. An acorn hit my head once. It hurt–a lot more than you’d expect. It actually raised a knot on my head. So, I’m not saying that terrorist attacks and gun control aren’t painful topics. They are. Just don’t confuse them with a hunk of the sky. The fox awaits.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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How Evil or Not Is Our President?

I’ve watched a little of the History Channel series on the Bible. A lot of folks are bothered by the violence in it. I assume those people haven’t actually read the Bible, the Old Testament in particular. There is incest, forced slavery, rape, murder of every description and even genocide. It’s tough stuff. A lot of folks who want to ban other books because of the Bible would probably want to ban the Bible itself if they ever read it.

Some are upset by the portrayal of Satan. Why? He looks like our president. Really, he does (the TV Satan, that is). It’s supposed to be a coincidence, and maybe it is. It does, however, raise the question of whether Obama is, in fact, Satan or just really evil. My conservative friends think so. My liberal friends think quite the opposite, of course. The hard right (rock-ribbed Republicans, as my Dad would have said) reject everything Obama says or does as wrong-headed and Socialist. The Left accepts everything he says or does as being brilliant and enlightened. In other words, he’s the Democrat version of George W. Bush.

I don’t know much about Satan or Lucifer or Beelzebub or whatever you call him. The Bible doesn’t talk that much about him, either. All this stuff about him being the proudest angel and falling from grace, etc., isn’t in the Bible. Regardless, I know he’s bad news. He tempts us with all kinds of evil. I can’t endorse that behavior, although I have to admit that I’ve enjoyed a few of his temptations. He’s also the overlord of Hell, which is bad in all possible ways with its lakes of fire, weeping and wailing and the obligatory gnashing of teeth.

So, why the Hell does the President look so much like Satan? There really can’t be a good explanation, UNLESS–you got it–he IS Satan. Okay, I know that’s a stretch. What if he’s just the Anti-Christ? The evidence is disturbing to say the least:

The Westboro Baptist Church thinks he’s the Anti-Christ. That’s a credible source for theological truths. They also think the U.S. Army is dominated by homosexuals.
The Obamacare microchip implants are certainly a bad sign. The Mark of the Beast.
The name “Barack” has 6 letters, as in 6-6-6. How convenient.
He’s black. The History Channel has proven that Satan is, too. Plus, Satan is always called things like the “Dark One.”
As we all know from the film Jesus Christ Superstar, Judas was black. Coincidence?
Although the Bible says nothing about the age of the Anti-Christ, isn’t there at least a decent chance he would be about Obama’s age?
It is well-known that the Anti-Christ will be a charismatic figure, much like–you guessed it!–Obama.
Revelation 13:5-8 says the Anti-Christ will rule for 42 months. That’s fairly close to one term of Obama’s presidency.
There’s even a website that questions whether he’s the Anti-Christ. If he weren’t, why would someone go to all that trouble?
Michael Savage says Obama is “the most evil” President ever. That’s good enough for me.
This passage from Revelation 13 succinctly describes Obama:
- [1] And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy.
  [2] And the beast which I saw was like unto a leopard, and his feet were as the feet of a bear, and his mouth as the mouth of a lion: and the dragon gave him his power, and his seat, and great authority.
  [3] And I saw one of his heads as it were wounded to death; and his deadly wound was healed: and all the world wondered after the beast.
  [4] And they worshiped the dragon which gave power unto the beast: and they worshiped the beast, saying, Who is like unto the beast? Who is able to make war with him?
  [5] And there was given unto him a mouth speaking great things and blasphemies; and power was given unto him to continue forty and two months.
  [6] And he opened his mouth in blasphemy against God, to blaspheme his name, and his tabernacle, and them that dwell in heaven.
  [7] And it was given unto him to make war with the saints, and to overcome them: and power was given him over all kindreds, and tongues, and nations.
  [8] And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him, whose names are not written in the book of life of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world
They might as well put a photo of Obama next to this passage. Sixty or seventy years ago, a lot of churches thought the Papacy was the Anti-Christ. Don’t they look silly now?

Those of you with a conservative bent are probably smiling. Maybe you’re thinking: “He can’t be serious, but, you know, all that makes sense.” If you’re over there on the Left, you may be angry, thinking: “Another right-wing Nazi making fun of the greatest President ever.” If you’re really far Left, you’re probably an atheist anyway and just generally offended by anything hinting at religion. You don’t have faith in anything, except the Government, that is (that’s big G Government, just like big G God). Oddly enough, atheists now worship a man who has been a Christian his entire adult life.

All this naturally leads to my next line of inquiry. If we dismiss Obama as Satan or even the Anti-Christ, what if my friends on the Left are correct and he is a great man–the greatest man? Consider:

We know nothing of Jesus’s teen or young adult years. The same can be said of Obama whose formative years remain shrouded in mystery.
Some people think Jesus looked like this:

The resemblance is uncanny.

Jesus was black. Okay, I have no direct or indirect proof of this, but isn’t it at least possible? The Bible doesn’t say he wasn’t black. Don’t you find that suspicious? I do. Besides, look at his picture!
Like Jesus, Obama has fed the multitudes. In Obama’s case, it’s with food stamps, but the effect is similar.
Obama made Chris Matthews’ leg tingle. That has to be some kind of miracle.
Louis Farrakhan once said of Obama “The Messiah is speaking.” He never says anything nutty.
Speaking of miracles, Obama got a black man elected President of the United States–TWICE!
Jesus and Obama are both excellent public speakers.
Both were carpenters. I’m little thin on facts to support this one, but it hasn’t been dis-proven to my satisfaction.
We all know that Jesus was born of a virgin mother, but what of Obama? What do we know of his so-called “father?” Not much. Did he even exist? If not, why not?
I’m pretty sure Jesus didn’t have a birth certificate, either.
One can persuasively argue that Jesus, too, was a community organizer. He organized an entire religion!
Jesus’s followers were the meek, the downtrodden, the poor in spirit. Isn’t this exactly what folks on the Right say of Obama’s supporters?

Before you condemn me to the Lake of Fire, I am not suggesting that Obama is the Messiah or even a Messianic figure. I only ask the questions that others fear. Not surprisingly, I have no answers.

As with any serious theological debate, there are countervailing arguments. If he were God or something similar, it’s hard to understand why Rand Paul wasn’t smited during his recent filibuster. If he were Satan or one of his minions, one would think he would try to woo the religious Right instead of constantly enraging them. We can’t allow such obvious inconsistencies to derail our reckless speculation.

The Bible is thin on details describing Satan. I’ll admit that Revelation contains an excellent description of the Anti-Christ what with the two heads and whatnot. Although the Bible makes it clear that Jesus will return, it is equally explicit that we don’t know when or where. Using those criteria, it is impossible to eliminate Obama. Thus, we may never know the answer until it’s too late.

If Obama is Satan, then where does that leave Dick Cheney? If Obama is the Messiah, then why is he a Muslim? If he is just a man, why do we have all these questions, none of which are subject to adequate answers? Have I written this under Satan’s spell or by divine inspiration? Where does Glenn Beck fit in to all of this? Why does Rachel Maddow look like a dude? We may never know the answers to these and other questions.

So, where are we? I don’t know. Maybe Obama is an Ivy League-educated ideologue who surrounds himself with like-minded people–a decent family man with whom a lot of people (myself included) vehemently disagree on some issues. The Liberal George W. Bush. NOW, I’m talking crazy.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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My Flagging Patriotism

I make no secret that I love being an American. I’ve always been an American, and I’ve always loved my life, at least most of the time. I might also like being Swiss or a Liechtensteiner, but I’ll never know. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t like being a Somalian.

Because I love being an American, I suspect that makes me patriotic. I certainly have pulled for us in all the wars. But, when I hear really patriotic people talk, I think I’m a wild-eyed anarchist. The flag–the American Flag–more than anything else makes feel like that.

Being a bit of a gadfly, I’m leery of blind loyalty to anyone or anything. Any time people speak of patriotism, I think of the famous quote that we’ll know fascism when it reaches American because it will be “wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross.” Some say that Sinclair Lewis said this. It certainly sounds like something he would have said.

Nothing swells Americans with pride like our flag. Old Glory. The Stars and Stripes. Unlike some countries whose flags have wild colors and sayings on them, it’s simply designed. Fifty stars and thirteen stripes. Red, white and blue. We don’t have animals or people on our flag. It’s not all busy and confusing. I’ve always like the flag, but I don’t worship it. I really liked the one the Air Force draped on my Dad’s casket. My fellow Americans, however, are obsessed with the flag.

Prior to the American Civil War, the flag wasn’t so much a symbol of patriotism as it was a marker used to identify federal territories or possessions. During the Civil War, it became a symbol of the union just as the Confederate flag was a symbol of rebellion. Since then, the flag has taken on more significance.

Nowadays, the flag is venerated. Rick Monday was a fairly good baseball player in the 1960’s and 1970’s. He was a good outfielder, hit with some power and had good speed. He’s known for two things. One, he was the very first pick in Major League Baseball’s first amateur draft. Second, he saved the flag. During a game at Dodger Stadium in 1976, Monday was playing in the outfield for the Chicago Cubs. Two “fans” ran on the field, threw down a flag and prepared to burn it. Monday ran by and scooped it up with one hand just before it was lit. He got a standing ovation. Mention Rick Monday to a baseball fan of a certain age, and he or she will remember that moment.

: Rick Monday’s greatest play.

We have songs about the flag. “Stars and Stripes Forever” and “It’s a Grand Old Flag” are two of them. My father was fond of march music, so I I’ve heard Stars and Stripes Forever many, many times. It’s pretty catchy.

We like the flag so much that we have laws about it. The Flag Acts of 1777, 1794 and 1818 tell us what the flag should look like. We have a United States Flag Code which has rules about displaying and caring for the flag. You can read it at 4 U.S.C. Section 1, et seq. (I’m a lawyer, and that’s a citation to a statute). Before you go scrambling to the United States Code to turn in your neighbor, there are no criminal penalties for breaking these rules. Think of them as rules of etiquette for the flag. Here are just a few of the rules:

Don’t dip the flag
Don’t display it upside down (except to show distress)
Don’t wad it up
Don’t make clothes out of it
Don’t draw pictures on it
Don’t walk on it
Don’t let it touch the ground
Burn it when it’s worn out

This is okay, because Mrs. Palin’s bikini is not an actual flag. It’s not okay that she’s wearing a bikini, though.

First Amendment fanatic Larry Flynt. Wearing an actual flag as a diaper is not okay, but it’s not a crime. Maybe it should be.

These are a just a few of the highlights. There are a bunch of rules. Only an anal-retentive Boy Scout could keep track of all of them. Just be glad there are no criminal penalties. By the way, I was a Boy Scout–maybe it was a Cub Scout–for a couple of weeks. What did I learn? How to fold the flag, of course.

The bottom line is that we don’t like people being disrespectful to the flag. People in foreign countries like to burn the flag–our flag. You can tell they think that infuriates us, and it does. Some of these folks will hit it with shoes. That’s definitely a no-no.

Although the flag is iconic, the First Amendment to the United States Constitution allows us to desecrate it. Like Mr. Flynt, we can wear it as a diaper if we so choose; however, I don’t suggest that, because it will make you unpopular in many circles.

Remember, though, it’s not a crime. We Kentuckians have made it a crime under state law, Kentucky Revised Statute Section 525.110. That statute is unconstitutional, of course, but we don’t care. It’s still a law, even if we can’t enforce it. We’re well-known in Kentucky for passing laws that can’t be enforced and for periodically embarking on Quixotic battles to display the Ten Commandments. It’s part of our culture.

Of course, Americans have a Pledge of Allegiance. Man oh man, the Pledge of Allegiance gets people worked up. We’re supposed to pledge allegiance to the flag, by God, or so the argument goes. No one ever explains why we should do this, but we should. Some–like your author and The United States Supreme Court–believe that Americans shouldn’t have to pledge allegiance to God, country, flags, politicians or anything else. We’re Americans. We have the right to be apathetic or downright hostile about everything.

I often see posts on social media lamenting that schools don’t recite the Pledge of Allegiance. This isn’t true. My children attended public schools where the Pledge was recited. Now, the school can’t force you to recite it. That’s okay, at least with me.

If you’re going to get all worked up about the Pledge of Allegiance, consider:

The original text of the Pledge:
- I pledge allegiance to my flag and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible with liberty and justice for all.
It was written in 1892 by Francis Bellamy, a Christian socialist. That’s right, a socialist.
It was written as part of the 400 year celebration of Columbus’s arrival in America.
One of the purposes of it was to sell flags to schools, because there was a belief that patriotism was at a low point.
Bellamy wanted to include equality and fraternity for all, but he knew that schools wouldn’t support equal rights for women and African-Americans.
About 30 years later, “my flag” was replaced with “the flag of the United States of America.” The thought was that immigrants needed to be clear about which flag they loved.
In 1954, the now familiar “under God” was added. This was during the Cold War when godless Communism was all the rage.
A minister named George Docherty suggested to President Eisenhower that God be added to the pledge. Reverend Docherty likened the Pledge to something “Moscovite children” might recite.
Legally, you can’t be forced to recite it.
Schools can recite the Pledge, but student participation is voluntary. If you think schools are not allowed to recite the Pledge, you are wrong.
The vast majority of states require that time be set aside for recitation of the Pledge. So, if you think the country is going to hell because we don’t do it, again, you’re wrong. Here in Kentucky, we have Kentucky Revised Statute Section 158.175 which sets aside time for it.
Groups like Socialists and Fascists love to have people pledge allegiance to the state.

This being America, we don’t force anyone–even children–to pledge allegiance to the flag. Maybe you think we should, but such things as freedom of speech and of religion stand in the way. It’s okay. Those are good things, too. Think about it like this: If you’re one who thinks we should be forced to say the Pledge, imagine how you’d react if President Obama said that. See?

We’re not the only country with a flag. Other countries have flags, too. All of them do, I guess, but we don’t care much for those. Most of them are goofy looking with odd sayings and pictures on them.

Andorra has the typical weird flag combining a haughty crest with cows and odd foreign gibberish.

Some other flags just took no thought at all. France, for example:

The French flag can be easily adapted in the event of surrender.

We want people to fight for the flag, too. Personally, I wouldn’t do that, especially if I had time to think about it. I’d probably let you have the flag if it were that important to you. That’s not the same as fighting for one’s country, although I wouldn’t want to do that, either.

When we Americans get mad at foreign countries, we don’t take to the streets and burn their flags. To us, that seems over the line. Oh, we’ll invade your country, kill you by the thousands and overthrow your government, but we’ll be good to your flag. That’s only decent.

All our states have flags. Here is the flag of my state, Kentucky:

It states the fairly obvious maxim of “United we stand. Divided we fall.” I suppose the cartoon on it symbolizes country and city folk coming together. We also call ourselves a “commonwealth.” No one knows what that means, but we’re just a plain old state like everyone else. Kentucky has its own Pledge of Allegiance:

“I pledge allegiance to the Kentucky flag, and to the Sovereign State for which it stands, one Commonwealth, blessed with diversity, natural wealth, beauty, and grace from on High.“

Notice that it doesn’t mention “God.” I think people would be outraged about this if they knew we had our own pledge. “On High” could be God, Jesus, Buddha or a bundle of sticks.

I’ve been told that this is Alabama’s flag:

Weird, huh? It’s kind of like they’ve just Xed themselves out. Then again, it’s easy to draw.

State flags aren’t as controversial. I’ve never heard anyone accused of desecrating one, and I’ve never seen angry foreign mobs burning one. If someone did, we’d probably get mad, but it would quickly pass.

Everyone knows the famous photo of the flag being raised at Iwo Jima. It wouldn’t have had the same impact if they had raised the Kentucky state flag by mistake.

Some of our states are fond of the Confederate flag, the Old Stars and Bars. Only in America could you fly the flag of a rebellion that cost hundreds of thousands of lives and almost destroyed your country. Of course, a lot of folks are offended by that. That’s also very American. Do what you want, but others have a right to get pissed off about it.

Whether you’re conservative or liberal, you might be thinking: “Hey, does this nut have some kind of problem with flags?” No. I’ve never desecrated a flag (at least not on purpose). I don’t advocate such things, either, but I probably don’t love the flag. And I certainly don’t insist that you love it or pledge some kind of oath to it. Just don’t wear it as a diaper, unless you really want to.

©thetrivaltroll.wordpress.com 2013

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My Over 50 Not-To-Do List

I’m in my 51st year on the planet. Although many people have exceeded my longevity, this impresses me. Of course, lots of folks lived less time than I have and did much more–Mozart, for example. All in all, though, living longer is a good thing.

I now read AARP publications. AARP recently ran a tongue-in-cheek article about things NOT to do after age 50. It was somewhat humorous. Somewhat. Like a lot of things, it got me thinking. Now, that I’m 50 (and have been for several months now), what won’t I do? Here are five such things:

PLAY BALL! I’ve written before about my mediocrity as an athlete. That never stopped me from trying to play sports. No more. No basketball. No softball. No flag football. Nothing where I risk injury. Why? I don’t want any other injuries. The older you get, the more injury-prone you are. My sports are now limited to baseball and basketball with my youngest son and even then I don’t go all out.

I’ve never had a serious injury. I’ve never worn a cast or had surgery or used crutches. I did tear a muscle in my shoulder once, but they can’t do much about that. I had a stress fracture in my foot, but it went away.

In my 30’s I scraped the outside of left calf sliding during a softball game. It looked like a burn and hurt like hell. It scabbed up in a couple of days. Then, the scab disappeared, and it looked like an orange peel, except oozy. You know how your mother said that a cut with red lines running from it is bad? It had those, two. It was something called cellulitis. The doctor said it was a “galloping infection.” I had to elevate my leg and put a heating pad on the open wound. I also had to draw a circle around it with a Sharpie. If the red spread past the outline, that would be bad. When I stood, the blood rushed to my leg and it felt like a thousand needles. I had to get a shot every day, too, for a week. The shot gave me diarrhea. For days, I was reduced to lying down with a heating pad on an open sore which burned like it was on fire while trying to control my bowels and drawing on my leg with a magic marker. I’m just too old for this kind of thing.

Even if I wanted to play sports, I probably can’t. The simplest of sports may be beyond me now. A few months ago, I passed baseball with my 17-year-old son who is a high school baseball player. He can throw 80-85 mph without much effort. I was terrified. Enough of that, too.

Fortunately, my youngest son is almost 11 now. If I had a younger kid, I’d hire someone to play with him. No sense taking unnecessary risks.

ANGRY UP MY BLOOD: The great baseball player Satchel Paige once cautioned against eating fried food, because it would angry up one’s blood. I don’t necessarily agree with that, because I like fried food. I do, however, agree with the caution about angrying up the blood.

I was an angry young man. Angry about all kinds of stuff–my job, politics, religion, sports–pretty much everything. I had a short fuse which was easily lit, too. I was an unpleasant person. I’m too old for all that, as well.

It seems that my peers become angrier with age while I mellow. I am aging in reverse, like a far less handsome version of Brad Pitt as Benjamin Button. It seems that everyone my age is mad about liberals, conservatives, the rich, the poor, taxes, drones, sports, religion and life in general. Here’s the deal: We all have opinions. So do I. I’m certain that mine aren’t all that important. In fact, I may be flat wrong on many (most?) of them. Same goes for you. I’m sure that pisses you off. Relax.

I’m confident that being mad shortens my life. How? Well, every minute I waste fuming about something, I could be doing something else. So, there goes part of my life down the old crapper. As a live and let live guy, I really don’t care if you’re mad, even at me. Just don’t ask me to play along.

GET IN MY CUPS: I was once quite fond of strong drink. I may still be, but I haven’t partaken in several years. Understand that I have no problem with those that do. I just believe that such indulgences are a young man’s game. Hangovers had bad for my brain. Why else would my head hurt like that? Vomiting is no good under any circumstances. Also, not remembering conversations or where I’ve been or what I’ve done is problematic. Soon enough, age itself will cause such problems. No need to speed the plow.

Here’s the kind of thing I did when I drank. A few years ago (not as many as you might think), my wife and I went to a party. I drank quite a bit before the party and quite a bit at the party. Oh, I had a grand time–or so I’ve heard. When we came home, I retired to the basement whereupon I quickly dozed off (the more crass of you might call it “passing out.”) A couple of hours into my respite, I had the urge to relieve myself. Rising from the couch, I was unsteady on my feet. No doubt this was from the deep REM sleep. As I staggered toward the bathroom, somehow I fell forward, striking my head on a wooden post. Oh, I also broke my glasses.

No problem. Holding my forehead, I made it to the bathroom and did my business. My right brow was really throbbing, so I thought I might take a look at it. Leaning close the mirror–remember my glasses were broken–I moved my hand from my right eye to get a good look.

The funny thing about cuts to the head is that they bleed far in excess of the severity of the actual injury. When I moved my hand, blood fairly gushed from a small slice in my right eye brow. It ran into my eye and down my face. It just kept coming. There was only one thing to do–I puked and went into a full-blown swoon. Then I sat in the floor convinced that I was bleeding to death and would be found covered in blood and vomit–not a glorious demise.

So, I did the only thing I could do. Holding a towel to my head, I climbed the two flights of stairs to the master bedroom and consulted my dear wife. Let’s just say that the evening suddenly took an even uglier turn.

I’m too old for this kind of foolishness now. Let the young men bleed profusely and copiously vomit. I’ll sip my Starbucks, work the crossword puzzle and retire for the evening at 9:30 or so.

EAT WELL: This takes some explaining. I don’t eat all that poorly. I don’t have a weight problem. I’m a lean, mean 160 pounds. Perfect middle-weight size. Think of me as a whiter, less-imposing, soft version of Marvelous Marvin Hagler (if you don’t know Hagler, you’re not my age). At one time I weighed 176 pounds, which was a little too much. I quickly shed that weight. That’s just a genetic thing. Don’t get all pissed off (see section above).

People want me to eat well, and I guess I should. My family has a bit of a history of heart disease. Regardless, there are things I like to eat. They include, but are not limited to:

High fructose corn syrup
Sugar
Chocolate
Ice Cream
Eggs
Bacon
Pork in general
Deep fried anything
Gluten
Peanut butter
Hot dogs
Red meat
White meat
Meat

I also don’t mind my food being laced with preservatives. Why not? Hey, I like it preserved until I want to eat it. Call me crazy.

I’m not diabetic. I don’t have celiac disease. Or diverticulitis. Or any food allergies. If you do, please watch what you eat. The key here is to watch what you eat, not what I eat.

If YOU don’t want to eat this stuff, I’m okay with it. I won’t force it on you. I don’t have people to my house for dinner anyway. Eat what you want. You can eat free range horse for all I care. Just don’t tell me what to eat. I enjoy food and fully intend to continue to do so.

FIGHT CLUB: Chief Joseph said: “From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.” That’s a good philosophy, and I agree wholeheartedly with him. Fighting isn’t good, especially if you run the risk of getting the crap beat out of you.

Like heavy drinking, fighting is a young man’s business. When you’re young, fighting can be a test of your manhood. It can also be provoked by heavy drinking. Either way, it’s usually a one-on-one situation and little harm is done.

Unlike in the movies, real fights rarely result in a lot of punching. A good punch is almost always a “sucker” punch which the recipient doesn’t see coming. Otherwise, punching is mostly a bunch of embarrassingly wild swinging.

It hurts to be squarely punched in the face. It also hurts to squarely punch someone in the face. Your hand explodes in pain. I don’t like pain. That said, real fights end up with a bunch of rolling around on the ground.

Another thing about real fights. No one gets punched in the face repeatedly and keeps fighting. Nor do you punch anyone in the face repeatedly. The human head is hard. It’s like a bowling ball with a few soft places on it. Go punch a wall five or ten times and let me know what you think.

At a certain age–maybe 30–I realized that people who are willing to fight might be dangerous, especially if they, too, were in their 30’s. These folks also tend to carry weapons, because they’re looking for trouble. I don’t want even a remotely deadly weapon used on me. I don’t want to throw a punch and miss, only to end up with a Chinese throwing star stuck in my forehead.

One possible exception is that I might fight a younger man. Why would I do that? Wouldn’t youth put me at a terrible disadvantage? Possibly. However, don’t discount the power of being Old Man Strong. We all reach an age where our years create a certain toughness without us even knowing it. Some suggest that perhaps we lose the will to live and become fearless. I prefer to think of it as God’s way of rewarding us for surviving.

When I was in high school, a friend of mine foolishly punched his dad. His dad didn’t flinch. Old Man Strong. Fight over.

So, if you’re a young fellow, be careful. If you get mouthy with an old guy and he just chuckles or, worse yet, takes a step toward you, run. It may be all that saves your dignity.

CONCLUSION

This is hardly a comprehensive list of things I won’t be doing. Such things as starting a meth lab, amateur pornography and polygamy are also taboo. These, though, are things I wouldn’t have ever done, as far as you know.

I’m not perfect. Maybe one day I’ll be shooting basketball with my kid, and you’ll wander into my yard spewing about politics and telling me to reduce the MSG in my diet. Like Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven, I’ll take a swig of whiskey and then start a fight with you. Let’s try to avoid all that.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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Dennis Rodman: Athlete, Spy, … President?

“There is nobody in the CIA who can tell you more personally about Kim Jong Un than Dennis Rodman and that in itself is scary.”

Former Deputy Assistant Secretary of State Steve Ganyard

Dennis (“the Worm”) Rodman recently visited North Korea. He went there with three Harlem Globetrotters–I don’t why only three, but that was it. The Globetrotters were there to play ball with some North Koreans. Rodman went to watch.

Now, the Worm claims that the “FBI” wants him to be a spy. At least that’s what he told The Miami Herald recently. Perhaps that’s true. I’ll set aside the obvious questions about why the FBI would be involved with this, given its focus on domestic law enforcement.

North Korea is the most cloistered country on Earth. It is, as it has always been, shrouded in secrecy. Foreign media is banned. The U.S. does not have diplomatic relations with the Democratic People’s Republic of North Korea. No embassy. No official visits. No communication. No one really knows what goes on there. In fact, The Korean War isn’t even over. The North and South just declared a truce. We know almost nothing about what goes on there.

One man knows, at least to some extent. That man is Dennis Rodman. The Worm. The hard-partying, tattooed, body-pierced, rebounding machine. The same Dennis Rodman who once wore a wedding dress to promote his autobiography. Arguably, the best rebounding forward to ever play basketball.

The confluence of these two personalities is significant, at least to me. Both fascinate me. Rodman, the ultimate blue-collar athlete. Kim, the ultimate political loony, a Communist dictator in an age where there are few Communists. Both are mysterious and more than a little unhinged. Yet, there they are together.

In some ways, Rodman’s life is the American Dream. He and his two sisters were raised in poverty by their mother. His absentee father claims to have fathered over 20 other children. Rodman says it may be more like 40. He wasn’t a high school basketball star. He wasn’t recruited. He was 5′ 6″ high school freshman who couldn’t make the basketball team. He graduated high school and worked as a janitor until he got a chance to play. He attended a junior college and then Southeastern Oklahoma State, where he was an NAIA All-American. While in college, he was taken in by a white family he considers now to be his own. It’s a story right of Hollywood. It rivals our President for a rags-to-riches tale (more on that later).

Rodman was drafted by the Detroit Pistons where he did the dirty work–defense and rebounding. He was quiet, even humble. He cried when he was named NBA Defensive Player of the Year. He perfected rebounding, making it his one dominating skill.

Somewhere along the line, he became the Dennis Rodman we now know. Dyed hair. Tattoos. Piercings. He never stopped being a defending, rebounding machine. Along the way, he dated Madonna, married and divorced Carmen Electra and even did a stint on Celebrity Rehab. He’s made movies. He’s wrestled. Now, at 52 years old, he still has the sculpted physique of an athlete and the lifestyle of out of control rock star.

We know Kim Jong Un, too. Sorta. He’s the cherubic evil dictator of the DPRK following in the footsteps of his grandfather and father. His father, the late Kim Jong IL, was best known to Americans in photos of him looking at things, which he apparently did quite often. Dad loved Elvis, basketball and action movies. Reportedly, he also was quite fond of pornography. We all know that he was a stellar athlete, shooting 34 under par the first time he played golf, running marathons in record time and regularly bowling perfect games.

We know considerably less about young Kim. He’s called Dear Leader. We know he’s in his 30’s. He may or may not be married. He bears a striking resemblance to Russell from the film Up. He has a jacked-up haircut which is odd considering that his Dad has a fabulous pompadour. Like his father, he likes to look at things. He has a disgraced brother who has been banished from DPRK. Other than that, we don’t know much about him.

Nuclear boom-boom make Dear Leader happy!

Like Pop, Un likes to saber-rattle, threatening South Korea and the United States with destruction. He lives like a king or at least an evil dictator. He’s a fat little bastard in a country where people regularly starve to death. He likes nuclear testing and firing rockets, even if they don’t always work.

Now, these two unlikely characters have crossed paths. Rodman has met the Kim Jong Un–the only American to ever do so. Think about that. Dennis Keith Rodman is the only American to meet the man. What does this mean? I don’t know, but I’d like to speculate.

I don’t discount the possibility that Rodman is a traitor, a gender-bending Benedict Arnold (I’ve seen pictures of Benedict. He might have been doing a little gender-bending himself). Perhaps he’s come into government secrets while partying. He might have been in Colombia with those congressmen and black-mailed them. Armed with this information, he traveled to North Korea. Kim then paid him in millions of whatever weird-ass money they use (with Kim’s face on it, no doubt).

Don’t expect the Worm to be hanged for treason. Treason is hard to prove. Plus, no one really knows what it is. According to scholars like Sean Hannity it’s whenever someone criticizes a Republican president during a war. Woodrow Wilson thought it was saying anything negative about a declared war. It’s all confusing. That’s why people get prosecuted for espionage, instead.

Call me naive, but I don’t see the Worm as a traitor. Only in America could a man from his background rise to the level of success and public curiosity as he has. He wouldn’t turn on us. Besides, there is, as they say, more to the story here.

Is he an assassin? Could be. Maybe he planned to garrote the rotund strong man but didn’t get the chance. As easily the largest human in the DPRK, he probably could have strangled dozens of people before being subdued. If he went off, he’d look like something from a Japanese monster movie, crushing tiny Koreans under his feet. It’s no coincidence that Rodman was drinking a Coke with Un. Coke is not sold in the DPRK. Maybe Rodman was allowed to smuggle in a few cans to addict the portly strongman to the elixir known as high fructose corn syrup. This time, it was regular Coke. Next time? The really New Coke, with extra arsenic.

Perhaps it was simply a diplomatic mission. Un hates Americans. That’s clear. It’s part of his upbringing: America = Evil. But, he loves basketball, just like his father. Pops owned a basketball signed by Michael Jordan. Maybe young Kim thought Rodman was Jordan. That wouldn’t be too hard to pull off. Under this theory, Rodman’s trip has the tacit approval of the State Department. Rodman can use his new friendship for our benefit. Now, if Kim starts testing nuclear weapons again, Rodman can call his cell phone:

KIM: Hello, Dear Leader here.

RODMAN: Yo, Un. Worm.

KIM: Dennis! How’s it hunging?

RODMAN: Hey, dude, man, what’s up with all that underground testing shit?

KIM: Worm, we must show your evil government that we are ready to destroy it.

RODMAN: [Laughing] You are one crazy mutha——. Hey, if you drop that shit, I’ll shoot over and play you a game of HORSE. Bring some Cokes, too,

KIM: Hmmm. DEAL!

Crisis averted. That’s a reasonable scenario, but I think more is at work here than a mere budding friendship between a crazed nuclear madman and an alcoholic, cross-dressing NBA Hall of Famer.

Dennis Rodman is a spy, enlisted by the President of the United States himself to infiltrate North Korea. With today’s nano technology, outfitting a nose ring with a camera is child’s play. Nipple rings go from a fashionable accessory to stealth recording devices. He is returning home with invaluable information.

Implausible, you say? Consider this: Rodman’s estranged father owns a restaurant in the Philippines called–get this–Rodman’s Rainbow Obamaburger! How convenient that he somehow got permission to use the President’s name for commercial purposes. Coincidence? You be the judge.

To my knowledge, no one in the State Department has commented on Rodman’s father’s cozy relationship with the President.

How do I know Rodman is a spy? Consider the evidence:

Why were only three Globetrotters on the trip? What did the others know that made them a security risk?
Isn’t it strange that our State Department doesn’t even plan to talk to Rodman, the one man who knows Kim Jung Un personally?
Kim Jong Un loves basketball. Rodman played basketball.
The entire Kim family loves Michael Jordan. Rodman played with Michael Jordan.
Rodman’s father clearly has close connections to the White House.
Why does Rodman always wear sunglasses?
Photographic evidence proves that Rodman has a close personal relationship with former President George H.W. Bush. Why does the mainstream media continue to suppress this?

Suppressed photo of meeting between Rodman and former CIA Director and President George Bush

My theory, amply supported by all the above, is that Rodman’s trip was anything but a basketball mission. One scenario is that, in the 1990’s, a young Barack Obama was climbing the ladder of success. Although most of his time was spent orchestrating his shaky Hawaiian Birth Conspiracy and fake Christianity, his sights were set much higher. Knowing that cooperation from the notoriously haughty Michael Jordan would virtually impossible, he forced Bulls owner Jerry Reinsdorf to trade for Dennis Rodman, the odd everyman of the NBA. Reinsdorf no doubt feared that Obama would call upon the aging vestiges of the Weather Underground to “disrupt” the Bulls’ season. Once Rodman was in Chicago, his relationship with Michael Jordan would open doors for Obama who knew of the elder Kim’s affection for MJ. A mere 10-15 years later, it all came to fruition as Obama called Rodman for a favor. The Worm delivered.

This theory, while certainly plausible, is too simplistic. There is more at work here. Much more.

At this point, you’re probably wondering the same thing that struck me during my research. Is it possible that Dennis Rodman and Barack Obama are the same person? Naturally, I have no proof of anything, but there are simply too many coincidences. How do you explain the following?

Both men were born in 1961.
They are African-American males.
Both Rodman and Obama spent several years in Chicago at the same time. There are no known media reports about what they did together during that time. How can that be?
Both Rodman and Obama had so-called absentee fathers who lived in foreign countries.
Both have two daughters.
Both Rodman and Obama enjoy playing basketball.
Both Rodman and Obama smoke.
There are no known photographs of them together.
Why hasn’t the White House responded to my many letters and faxes demanding to see a photo of Obama and Rodman together?
Obama has been the President for over four years, and Rodman has not visited the White House even once during that time. How can that be?
Why hasn’t Rodman produced a copy of his birth certificate?
Why hasn’t Obama produced his college transcripts? Could it be that they show excellent grades at Southeastern Oklahoma State?

Then, too, there are the startling physical similarities between the two men:

Note how Rodman cleverly covers his ears in most photos. Protruding ears, of course, cannot be easily masked. Consider, too, how covering one’s body in tattoos and piercings distract the viewer from facial features. There is also little doubt that somewhere in all that is a Muslim tattoo of some kind.

Then, we have the President:

Note the laughably inept body make-up. Even skilled Photoshopping doesn’t help. Thanks to the butchering of this photo, the President’s physique doesn’t even resemble Rodman’s. Yet, his nipple piercings are apparent when this photo is magnified. It’s not surprising that the White House doesn’t release such “photos” to the public.

Does this prove that they are the same person? Well, no, but it raises questions–questions no one seems willing to address. Don’t expect “your” government to offer anything.

I know that I’ve put myself at great risk by raising this issue, but it’s time that public knows the truth. The Worm has indeed turned.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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How Smart Aren’t You?

Did you ever think you might not be all that smart? If you’re really dumb, you probably haven’t. I’ve think about it sometimes, even though I seem to be fairly bright. Of course, if I’m not so smart, I’ll probably would like I’m smarter than I really I am.

I’d rather have almost any problem that dumbness. Almost. Horrible diseases would be worse, as would disfiguring scars. Face tattoos may be worse. Morbid obesity, too, but you might be able to do something about that.

I recently wrote a post about stupidity and one its key elements–dumbness. After I wrote it, it got me thinking (See? I’m not dumb). My observations, while spot on as usual, are of no aid to a man or woman who does not realize his or her own dumbness. While my post may have been of benefit in identifying the dumb or truly stupid, it left a gaping hole. How do you know if you yourself are dumb or possibly even stupid?

It strikes me that the truly dumb don’t know it. How could they? If someone pointed it out, they may not understand. This would be especially true if that someone was a smart person. It may all be above their heads.

I thought devising a quiz for dumbness. But the dumb probably aren’t good test-takers. How could they trust the test results?

Instead, I offer certain red flags for your consideration. Below are telltale signs of dumbness. I don’t write this to offend, although I surely will. Consider it a public service:

YOU BELIEVE IN CONSPIRACIES

The dumber you are the more conspiracies you believe. Even believing in just one is a bad sign. Multiple? Uh oh. Here’s the deal with conspiracies: They get found out. People can’t keep their mouths shut. Someone talks.

Here’s a helpful rule of thumb: If you believe in a conspiracy and at least one of the conspirators is alive, it probably didn’t happen.

Let’s take the JFK assassination, the grand daddy of all conspiracies. Quite a few smart people believe this one. According to the theorists, Lee Harvey Oswald, Jack Ruby, Clay Shaw, J.D. Tippit, Lyndon Johnson, The Warren Commission, the Mafia and many, many others were all involved. There are many variations on this conspiracy, enough to fill several books–which they have. None of the conspirators ever cracked and made public their story. Weird, huh? Hundreds–maybe thousands–of people coordinated to kill one man and everyone kept their mouth shut. Do you know why? BECAUSE IT DIDN’T HAPPEN.

What about the moon landing? Lots of folks think it didn’t happen. Are you one of them? They can point to many “facts” supporting their claims. All of those have been debunked; however, any skeptic is just part of the conspiracy. I was a kid when Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. Another kid told me that it couldn’t happen because “the moon would turn to blood.” It didn’t.

How about 9/11? Think George W. Bush orchestrated it? If so, he is the most evil and diabolical mind to ever sit in the White House. Do you really believe that?

There are a couple of things that drive conspiracies. One is that some things seem too big not to be part of some larger evil. How could a little piss ant like Lee Oswald shoot the President? How could a bunch of loons just waltz into our country and fly planes into buildings? There must be some explanation! Other things–like the moon landing–are so fantastic that they lend themselves to wild theories.

Sadly, dumbness also drives conspiracy theories. I’m sure some dumb guy reading this now thinks I’m in the CIA. Maybe I am.

YOU HATE SMART PEOPLE

Do you think smart people lack “common sense?” Do you think people who attend the top universities are “elitists?” Do you call people who excel academically names, like “nerd” and “dork?” If so, you have a great chance of being dumb.

The really smart folks are the ones who made our lives worth living. They invented almost everything. I’m sure there a few things that dumb guys invented, maybe the toilet paper holder or Bluetooth headsets. Regardless, smart people have made most of the good stuff.

A guy once told me that I lacked common sense because I didn’t know how to trap a bear. Really? If you find yourself saying something like, stop. You are treading the path of dumbness.

Likewise, people who attend the finest universities in our country also tend to be smart. Okay, there are some “legacies” who get in these schools, too. (George W. Bush, the entire Kennedy family, etc.). Overall, though, these are the best and the brightest. Be glad they go to these schools. They come up with stuff like microwave ovens, satellites, cell phones, face transplants and computer software. Of course, you don’t have to go to one of these schools to do well, but it won’t hurt you.

Plenty of smart don’t go to the best schools. Bill Gates is an example. They’re still plenty smart. They’re not elitists. They’re just smart. If you don’t understand that, well…..you get the picture. Or maybe not.

Oh, being well-educated doesn’t necessarily make you smart. I’m a lawyer, and there are plenty of dumb lawyers.

Smart people are the ones you are tempted to deride by pointing out their lack of social graces or general “coolness.” They’re also probably signing your pay checks.

YOU USE NON-WORDS

There are a lot of words in the English language, probably thousands. I’m sure other languages have just as many or even more than we do. There’s really no reason to make up words. I’m not talking about colloquialisms or even words like “ain’t.” As we know, “ain’t” ain’t a word, but we use it. Where I grew up, it’s as much a part of the language as any other word. I’m really talking about words that just flat aren’t words. Here’s a partial list:

Supposably
Irregardless
Hain’t (the correct word is “ain’t.”)
Mater
Efforting
Ath-a-lete
Drowneded
Excape
Orientate
Interpretate
Nucular
Reoccur

Of course, this list could go on and on. Don’t even get me started on things like “I could care less,” which means you actually do care, at least to some extent. If you continually use fake words, you might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer. Stop it. If you can stop, then you’re not dumb. If you don’t understand any of this…you know that means. I guess.

YOU BELIEVE EVERYTHING ON THE INTERNET

The Internet is wonderful. It’s hard to imagine life before it, although many of us remember those times. We would thumb through over-sized newspapers, staining our hands with news print just to find out what yesterday. Now, the world is instantaneously at our fingertips. The downside, of course, is that the Internet is available to everyone without filter and certainly without editors.

Here’s a story I heard on the Internet last Fall:

President Obama is planning to throw the 2012 Election. He has already built a massive compound in Hawaii to which he will move in January 2013. He will then be named Secretary-General of the UN. Then, he will be free to live openly as a Muslim. He will then impose a one-world order. He and Michelle will get divorced so that he can then live as a gay man. It is well-known that he and Rahm Emanuel belong to a Chicago gay men’s club called the Down Low Club.

I didn’t make that up. Google it. It’s out there. It seems that this story wasn’t true, but people believed it. Someone emailed it to me. If you believe stories like this, it isn’t good. If it’s on the Internet, it may not be true, especially if doesn’t sound true. Here are some other things on the Internet that aren’t true:

The government has a plan to put computer chips under our hides.
Members of Congress get paid their full salaries for life.
Obama wears a secret Muslim ring.
The UN has a plan to confiscate all our guns.
Starbucks won’t serve members of the military.

Again, this is just a small sampling. If you read something on the Internet-especially if it is about someone you despise–think about it. If you’re even half-way smart, you’ll be suspicious of the fake ones.

Just don’t believe what you read on the Internet. In fact, you’re on the Internet right now (unless you’ve taken to printing my popular blog). You shouldn’t even believe this. Trust me.

Here’s a test. Log on to Facebook. Scroll. Soon, you will see a post about some outrageous offense, usually involving a politician. If you are tempted to “like” or repost it, STOP. Google the story or go to Snopes.com (which, by the way, is not funded or owned by George Soros). If you believe the story regardless of proof to the contrary, oh well.

CONCLUSION

If you question whether you’re dumb, you probably aren’t, unless it’s because people are always telling you that you’re dumb. Of course, if those people are themselves dumb, it may not mean anything.

I do not consider myself as expert nor am I fit to judge. I am, however, fit to offer my opinions, dumb or not. After all, this is the Internet. Irregardless, it has to be true.

©thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2013

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The Ultimate Facebook User’s Guide

It’s 2013, and I guess everyone on Earth is on Facebook now–maybe not everyone but a lot of people for sure. I first joined Facebook in 2008 as a way to snoop on my kids. That didn’t last long as I became intrigued, then fascinated and then addicted to its wonders.

In 2008, most people were playing games on Facebook. Mafia Wars dominated as your FB friends asked you to join their “mafia.” I never did. That gave way to Farmville, and Facebookers became virtual Oliver Wendall Douglases. They needed help building fences and barns and rounding up animals. It was like everyone was Amish after they logged on. Then came Words With Friends, CityVille, Poker and many more games. Now, there is a Farmville 2. We’ve come full circle.

A lot of people who know me well are surprised that I like Facebook. I’m not the most social person. In fact, I’m an intensely private person. Why do I like FB? First, I’ve caught up with dozens of people I would never have heard from again nor made any effort to do so. I know about their families and lives now. Second, I would never have contact with most of these folks otherwise. I don’t do a good job of keeping track of folks. FB fixed that. Third, it helps me to hear opinions of others and the good and bad in other folks’ lives. It’s good to be plugged into to the human race, even if it’s just by a PC or smart phone. Finally, it’s a way to interact with people without really having to fool with them. Perfect for me.

Even people who aren’t on Facebook know about it. They have co-workers, friends and family on FB. They’ll look at others’ pages and secretly pine to belong. Why don’t they? Usually, these folks are men who have deemed themselves either too busy or cool to be bothered with it. They’ll say things like “I’d never do that. I don’t have the time.” Translation: “I’m more important you are. Blah, blah, blah.” These are the same people who will join LinkedIn and make 2,000 connections, because they think it’s important. Look, I know housewives, doctors, lawyers, teachers, kids, CEOs, factory workers, journalists, accountants and unemployed folks on FB. You ain’t that important. Of course, there are the Luddites of the world for whom the whole thing is overwhelming. These are the folks still trying to figure out if they should get into texting. Don’t let any of these killjoys drag you down. If you want to live in the FB world, join us.

If you’ve never been on FB or if you are but you only log on every few weeks or months, there are some basic rules or guidelines which will help you enjoy the experience.

NO ONE LIKES A CREEPER

Imagine if your next door neighbor rarely left his house and, when he did, he didn’t speak to you. Yet, he would read your mail and stare in your windows. Sometimes, he would just stand in your yard. Even if you thought he was harmless, you’d get tired of this behavior. FB works the same way.

Don’t just go on FB to creep on other people. We’re not a shy lot, but we like some interaction. I’m not saying you have to post something every time you log on, but you can “like” a status or even comment on one sometimes. We won’t think less of you. In fact, we might “like” you right back. Even if we don’t, we’re unlikely to say anything. There is no “dislike” button. You might even get “poked.”

When you creep, I call it going Rondo:

Don’t go all Rondo on your friends.

Naturally, you might wonder: “If I post something, what should it be?”

WHAT SHOULD I SAY?

The good news is that there really are no rules beyond a certain unspoken PG-13 standard. Posters fall into several categories:

The Lamenter: This is a person for whom the world is a difficult and troubled place. He or she is ill, has ill family members, job and money woes and usually doesn’t sleep well. We on FB like these folks. They’re part of our virtual family. Plus, they make us feel a little better about ourselves. Vent all you want. We won’t judge you and, if we do, we’ll probably do it quietly.

The Prayer Warrior: This person is seeking or sending prayers for many things: the country, sick children, sick adults, the dead, the living and the unborn. He or she will post Bible verses and inspirational quotes from a variety of sources. If you have a problem, these folks will step up. Most people are like I am–we’ll take prayers where we can get them. It can’t hurt.

The Politico: This man or woman occupies either the far left or right of the political spectrum. He will post a long string of gifs and memes assailing his political opponents. Some of these will even be factually accurate. Many will be libelous. He also likes to quote people like Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, George Washington, James Monroe, Abraham Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, Calvin Coolidge, and Ronald Reagan. Oddly enough, these sources are quoted equally by both sides. You, too, can join in. Now, please understand that none of us change our opinions based on your posts, but we will be entertained, at least to some extent. If we’re not, we can always block you. You’ll never know.

Just like at the Thanksgiving dinner table or your local bar, droning on about politics will eventually offend someone. The good news about FB is that you can just log off and let other vent at you.

Sports Guy: Based on his posts, he lives for sports, not playing them but watching other people play them. If “his” team wins, he will gloat and insult other teams and their fans, not just the one “his” team beat, either. His very worth as a human being is tied to whether a team of people he doesn’t know beats another team of people he doesn’t know. These victories fill him with joy and make him superior to fans of other teams. He won’t post about anything else. The flip side is that when his team loses, his posts become disturbing and deranged. He is a lesser person, and he knows it.

The Worker: This guy uses FB to promote his job, whatever it might be. He’s usually selling something. That’s cool. I might want to buy whatever it is he sells someday. I’d rather buy from a virtual friend than a total stranger.

Music Man: This guys rarely posts, and it’s almost always music videos. Why? I don’t know. I’ll check one out every now and then. It’s harmless.

Animal Farmers: These are folks who like animals. Well, maybe they love animals. Almost all their posts are about animals. There is an endless supply of comical photos of dogs and cats on the Internet. All of them have been posted on FB. If, like me, you don’t find animals particularly entertaining, you can scroll through these posts. Besides, if you don’t love animals these folks probably aren’t targeting you anyway.

Crusaders: These folks are against bad stuff. Oddly, the bad stuff they are against is the kind of stuff everyone is against. They want you to “like” their posts if you’re against such things as child abuse, cancer, child pornography, violence against women and animal abuse. These are good things to be against. Post all you want about them but don’t expect any spirited debates.

Family Affair: These folks post only about their families, usually their kids. Their kids are uniformly wonderful and blessings from God. We all like to hear about kids, so join in. One word of advice–don’t get too real. If your kid caught the basement on fire with his meth lab or got stabbed by a hooker, you probably should keep that to yourself, unless you need prayers.

They also will ask you to “like” or “share” posts that say things like:

If your mother is a saint, your best friend and greatest person who ever lived, share this status.

They never post things like this:

If your mother was a crack whore who brought home a new “daddy” every week and burned down your trailer while smoking, share this status.

So, if, as is the case with too many folks, your parents or siblings were or are vile monsters, you probably shouldn’t post anything about them.

Tin Foil Hatters: They like to post links to various conspiracies, usually involving President Obama. Such things as implanted computer chips, Kenyan birth certificates and Muslim wedding bands are frequent topics. They never check Snopes.com, and if you tell them to do so, they’ll tell you that George Soros owns Snopes. You, then, will become part of the conspiracy. Try to not to become one of these folks. Then again, if you’re so inclined, the fact that I suggest you not do so will only strengthen your resolve to do so. The good news is that FB gives you a platform. If you carry on like that at work, you’ll probably have to see a doctor. On FB, we just scroll by you like people on the street probably do.

These folks also tend to think Facebook is evil. It’s sharing your profile and personal information and photos. It’s signing you up in Al-Qaeda. It’s garnishing your wages. They never explain why they want to be on Facebook, but they love to warn you about it.

Suckers: Facebook is a hoaxer’s playground. Folks on FB will believe anything. Follow the same rules you follow in real life. If it sounds too good to be true, it is. For example, Bill Gates, despite his vast fortune and philanthropy, is NOT giving away $5000 if you share a picture of him, even this one:

Also, no one won the PowerBall and wants to give you a million or even a thousand bucks. No beautiful women want to be your FB friends. If it doesn’t happen in real life, it won’t on FB, either.

Newsies: These posters assume that none of us watch or read any news, so they post links to news stories. Some are also Politicos, and their posts only reflect their personal views. Just like with music videos, it’s all pretty benign. Who knows? We might even learn something from you.

Posting Tourette’s: This is me–a person who just posts various and sundry things that pop into his head. We can’t control it. It just happens. It’s almost like we’ve allowed FB to replace actually thought. Think it–post it is our mantra. We’ll post anything–family photos, videos, gifs, memes, jokes, rants, links. We’ll tell you about last night’s dream, our meals, illnesses and travel plans. We’ll complain about work and our families. We’ll brag and moan about things. In short, we combine all the best and worst of the other posters into one, manic posting monster. We post so often that if you were to read all our posts in sequence you’d be privy to the inner workings of our minds. We’ll wear you out on any given day, but we tend to be entertaining–or annoying. But, we’re never boring.

WHAT SHOULDN’T I SAY?

Facebook is a free speech zone, but all freedoms carry with them responsibilities. There are, of course, things you shouldn’t do:

Keep it clean: This should go without saying, but keep it clean, folks. Foul language, nudity (especially your own) and links to pornography are all beyond the pale. Hey, I’ve got no problem with any of that, but there are plenty of Internet forums out there for that stuff. At least that’s what I’ve heard.

Good taste: I am vehemently against child abuse. Honestly, I don’t anyone who isn’t. But, on the off-chance that you have FB friends who need persuading, photos of beat up or dead children won’t help. And they gross out the rest of us. Same goes for dogs that have been abused and killed. We know that’s bad.

It’s Not All About Politics: If you’re a Politico, that’s fine, but remember: Not everything is about politics. Don’t screw up someone’s post by trying to twist into a political statement. Example:

Post: We just had a great dinner-Steak on the grill, green beans, mashed potatoes and homemade yeast rolls! Thanks to my beautiful wife!

Politico’s Comment: Be thankful that Michelle Obummer isn’t your wife! She’d have you eating sprouts!

The Politico has now invited others of his or her ilk to make similar comments and hijack your wall. Bad form.

No Jesus Jukes: The Prayer Warriors will do the same thing with the infamous “Jesus Juke.” It goes like this:

Post: We had a great time at the game! 23,000 people rocked the place!

Comment: I wonder how many people would show up if Jesus was there and no game.

Your well-meaning friend has just brought you down and made you feel evil for enjoying the game. Don’t do that.

SPELING

You may be like me and be a spellcheck illiterate. Years of word processing have eroded my spelling skills. I am far-removed from the brash young lad who finished second in the Loyall Junior High Spelling Bee in 1976. Facebook won’t help you.

Its and it’s have different meanings. Same with there, they’re and their. To, two and too are not the same. Facebook won’t help with these issues. You have to step up and take responsibility.

THE UNFRIENDLY

There may be occasions when you must unfriend someone or, God forbid, you are unfriended. It’s happened to me. Yes, me. A girl I dated in college unfriended me. I think it’s because it took just a few months for her to remember that she hated me.

Unfriending is a drastic step. It is the Internet equivalent of a slap in the face. You aren’t even worthy of being a pretend friend. Think about that. In real life, of course, we unfriend people all the time. We just quit talking to them. If it required some affirmative act, we’d be less likely to do it.

Now, Facebook won’t tell you that you’ve been unfriended. You have to be paranoid enough to notice. Let’s just say that some of us notice these things. And we don’t like it.

EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY

Post a few pictures of yourself. Maybe we haven’t seen you in years. We’re curious. “But,” you say, “I’m not a handsome person. It shames me.” Relax, my ghoulish friend. Most of us are quite unattractive, especially those of us with a few years on us. We’ve gone bald (mostly men), gained weight, grayed, sagged and generally decayed. It’s okay.

I’m a good example. I was never what you’d call a handsome man. Now, my hair is gray and I have numerous wrinkles. Yet, I’ll post many photos of myself. Why? Well, for one thing, I’m a narcissist. Two, I’m not bald. See? You look better than someone–hopefully.

Perhaps you’ve improved with age, which happens. If so, by all means, post photos. Of course, if you really have improved, I don’t have to tell you to post photos.

One thing to watch is posting pictures of other people. They might not like it. For instance, I posted this photo of my wife:

This made her angry because–she claimed–the lighting made her look pale. I should have cleared this with her first.

Please feel free to post as many photos of your kids and grand kids as you wish. God knows I do. They’re yours, and you should be proud of them. Even if they’re as homely as sin, we’ll still “like” them. Same goes for your pets. I have two rabbits and don’t hesitate to post about them, even though they are boring, do-nothing pets. Yet, people always “like” them. Go figure.

CONCLUSION

Come join us! If you’re already on board, get in the deep end of the pool! Join for real, too. Do not share your Facebook page with your spouse. This will only show that you have trust issues, and we want to trust you.

It’s out there waiting for you, and there’s no time like the present. In fact, I’m linking this post to Facebook as soon as it’s published.

You can even send me a friend request, and I’ll probably accept it. I’m waiting.

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Papal Bull: A Modest Proposal

Pope Benedict XVI recently gave his two weeks’ notice. He’s resigning. I didn’t know the Pope could do that, but he can. After all, he’s the Pope. His real Pope name is Papa Benedictus Sextus Decimus, which is a bery cool name, indeed–much cooler than his real real name, Joseph Ratzinger.

Now, there will be a new Pope. Who will it be? I know there’s an election and something to do with smoke being released when it’s over. It’s not like the Dalai Lama where they go find some kid and name him Pope. It’s also not like royalty–the celibacy thing prevents that from being effective.

My friend, Larry, suggested that I throw my hat in the ring (it’s a regular hat, not a big Pope hat–not yet). I’m not Catholic which could be problematic. Larry may or may not be Catholic, but his idea intrigued me. Having failed in my quest to become football coach at the University of Kentucky, why not shoot for Pope now?

I don’t know what the qualifications are to be Pope. Catholicism on at least some level may be a prerequisite. Maybe it’s like the U.S. Supreme Court–you don’t have to be a judge or a lawyer, but it helps. I also don’t know how you get on the ballot. So, let’s just treat this as my registering to run for office. So, here we go.

As full disclosure, I’m married and have three children. I don’t think this disqualifies me. Some old-time Popes were married and had children before they became Pope, just like me. My wife would be a fine Popess or Vatican First Lady or whatever. My kids might be a bit unruly for the Holy See, but–hey–Lucretia Borgia was a murderer and her Dad was the Pope. Mine aren’t likely to be that bad.

I don’t have time to become Catholic. I know people who have converted to Catholicism, and it is a long process requiring counseling, classes and study–even prayerful reflection. It’s harder than becoming a Shriner. I’m a busy man, and I simply don’t have time for that. This will be especially true when I win the election and am burdened with Poping duties.

I also want a really cool Pope name. There has already been a Pope Hilarius (a funny, funny guy, by the way). Of course, they was Pope Simplicius (also known as The Dim Wit Pope); and Pope Hyginus, the cleanest Pope. Linus, Liberius, Sixtus, Boniface, Innocent, Urban, Felix (huh?), Stephen, Julius, Eugene, Nicholas, Leo, Pius and many other Pope names are available. There has never been a Pope Todd or Kevin or Earl. My name is John, possibly the most popular Pope name, but I don’t want all those Roman numerals after my name. I’m the Pope, not the Super Bowl. Besides, there have been so many Pope Johns, that they’ve lost track of them. I don’t want my number all messed up. Plus, there’s already a Papa John. I don’t want folks calling the Vatican wanting pizza. If elected, I’ll hold a contest via Twitter and Facebook. NAME THE NEW POPE! My personal choice is Sexius Beastus Superius, but I’ll let the people decide.

I’ll rock the Pope Holy garments. I know the Pope wears an alb, because I have two friends who are Catholic deacons, and they wear albs. My alb will be more like a bathrobe but encrusted with jewels. Think Ric Flair but with overtly religious overtones. I’m not wild about the dress the Pope wears or the red shoes, but I can take those on rare, formal occasions.

Nature Boy Ric Flair modeling one of my choices for Popely garb

I will tone down the hat. Okay, I’m sure the hat has a holy significance, just like the staff or cane he carries. But, I’m a baseball cap kind of guy. The hounds-tooth hat, fedora, bowler or derby don’t look right on me. The Pope Hat would be particular difficult for me. I also favor wife beater t-shirts and sweat pants. I’m sure those can be modified to a more dignified look for the papacy.

My Pope Hat

I want the Pope car, the famed Popemobile. I know that the Vatican doesn’t like it being called that, but I love it. I’ll have a fleet of Popemobiles, Popecycles, Popeboats, Popecoptors, Poperockets, Pope Jet Packs and Pope Hovercrafts. You’ll know me when I show up–in style.

I’ll have a steep learning curve what with my almost total ignorance of Catholicism. I assume that the Vatican–like any government–has a staff of long-time civil servants who can show me the ropes. How hard could it be, really? Get me an alb and a sensible hat, and I can fake my way through it until I get the hang of it.

Once elected, I will embark on the most ambitious Popely agenda ever. Among my many reforms will be the following:

No more Latin. We’re going all English all the time. I’m almost certain that God speaks English. Why shouldn’t we?
The vows of poverty and chastity are going to have to go, at least for the Pope. As the first Protestant Pope (as far as I know), I can’t be expected to get bogged down in all that minutia. That’s for Catholics.
We’re going to simplify all the kneeling and chanting. As a non-Catholic, I’ve found myself baffled to the point of delirium attending Catholic church services of any sort. Kneel, say something, repeat this or that, etc. It’s exhausting. We’ll install light-up signs like in TV studios that will tell everyone what to do and when to do it. Problem solved.
There’ll be no more indulgences. You step out of line, and that’s it. I’m not running a loose ship.
I’ll immediately issue a papal bull putting an end to this University of Notre Dame nonsense. One of my first acts will be to read off a list of all the Catholic universities in the United States and show their overall sub-par performance in athletics. If that doesn’t work, I will simply display a huge photo of Digger Phelps with the caption: IF GOD FAVORS YOUR SCHOOL, EXPLAIN THIS!
I will officially declare that any comical photos of empty dresses, chairs, etc., describing Manti Te’o’s girlfriend to be mortal sins. It was funny at first, but it’s grown tiresome.
Wilt Chamberlain’s former home in Bel Air will become “Vatican West,” because…well…it’s cool and so was Wilt. It will also be known as the Wilt House.

Vatican West

I’ll re-institute the Crusades. At first, we’ll start small, terrorizing the Italian countryside. If that goes well, we’ll branch out. Perhaps we can go somewhere like New Guinea and give everyone a deadly strain of the flu.

You’re probably wondering why I want to be Pope. First, have you seen where the Pope lives?

The Pope’s turf. Not too shabby.

Next, the Pope is just generally well thought of by folks. Okay, there was that one nut job who shot John Paul II, but think about this: He was shot 5 or 6 times and lived! Even Stallone couldn’t do that. There’s something to this Pope thing.

I also like the idea of papal infallibility. That would be a big confidence-booster for me.

According to some really sketchy research I’ve done, the official title is cool: Bishop of Rome, Vicar of Jesus Christ, Successor of the Prince of the Apostles, Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, Primate of Italy, Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Roman Province, Sovereign of the State of Vatican City, Servant of the Servants of God. (Okay, the “Primate” thing isn’t so cool, but I guess it’s accurate. As far as I know, all the Popes have been primates).

Finally, it would have to boost my standing with God. Now, the Pope isn’t a god, like the Dalai Lama or the last Emperor of China or Emperor Hirohito of Japan, but he’s pretty important. Given my many past transgressions, that has to help. It certainly can’t hurt.

Will I be a good Pope? It’s doubtful. But, I certainly won’t be the worst Pope ever. Come on, there have been so many Popes, at least one or two had to be terrible. Surely, there was a Franklin Pierce or Andrew Johnson among them. Now that I know I can resign, that takes some of the pressure away. Worst case scenario, I’ll be the Richard Nixon of Pontiffs.

If I can’t be Pope, I can be Antipope. There hasn’t been an Antipope in at least a few hundred years. As Antipope, I could claim to be Pope but not really be. I can even appoint Cardinals who will be called Quasi-Cardinals and Cardinal-Nephews or Quasi-Cardinal Nephews. I have cousins who might like that.

Oh, there will be some rough days ahead for the Church. I might cause a schism, maybe several. My tendency to addresses my audience as “You miserable bastards” will take some getting used to. But, I’ll do the best I know how, which is probably what every Pope does anyway. Remember: “No Pope, no hope.” I’ll be better than nothing. Or not. At least I’ll make the next Pope look good.

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“Great” Britain: Satan of the North Sea

Some months ago, I posted my simple plan for swift and decisive military action against our “neighbors” to the North, that deplorable hell hole known as Canada. As I expected, neither of our feckless presidential candidates dared to cross the amoral overlords of that frozen wasteland. Sure, I might have had a visit from the Department of Homeland Security, but they were no more interested in my carefully crafted strategy than your average mush-dog driving Canuck. After they tasered me a couple of times, I dropped the subject.

Why does no one take me seriously? How can right-thinking Americans simply sit back and await the inevitable decay and destruction of our great country? I’ve thought a lot about this, and I have the answer. Canada is merely a pawn, a Trojan Horse if you will. The REAL danger lies far to the East in Jolly Old England. Our old oppressors and so-called allies pull the strings.

That’s right–England (if that’s what it really is). Is it England? Or Britain? Or GREAT Britain? What the hell is the United Kingdom? The Commonwealth of Nations? They have a staggering number of names for the place. What’s in the United Kingdom? England and Northern Ireland, I guess. What about Scotland? I think so, although I’ve seen Braveheart a bunch of times, and I’d cut those violent, skirt-wearing, bagpipe-playing loonies a wide path. Wales? I guess so. My ancestors came from Wales, and I’ve never heard anything about it being a country. Then again, I don’t pay much attention to current events. Maybe it is a country. How the hell should I know? I know Northern Ireland is part of it because they used to blow up a lot of stuff. What about Canada? I have no idea, but it seems like they are part of the same Axis of Evil. I’m pretty sure Australia isn’t part it, because that’s where England dumped all their convicts, at least the ones that didn’t end up in America.

Their government is sketchy, to say the least. Have you ever watch Parliament on CSPAN? It consists of people standing up and flipping through notebooks while exchanging insults. I’m torn between thinking it is the ultimate democracy or a Monty Python skit.

So, I suppose England is part of the UK which is a collection of countries. Sounds like Communism to me. That alone should make them our enemy. But there are other equally compelling reasons to take Draconian measures against this “nation.”

THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR

I know, the war is over. Really? What makes you so sure? The Treaty of Paris was supposed to take care of that, but allow me to point out something that the mainstream media conveniently ignores. King George III was well-known to be totally insane. As such, I question his competency to agree to anything (there’s a little lawyering for you, free of charge). Any day, those Brits can back up on that deal and start trying to tax us to death again. (One small upside is that The Tea Party’s name will then make a little sense). I say strike first and put an end to the war once and for all.

THE ROYAL FAMILY

Americans love the Royals, you say. So what? We have a perverted fascination with celebrities, especially those famous for only being famous. Each generation has its vacuous icons from Zsa Zsa Gabor to Paris Hilton to Honey Boo Boo. This fundamental flaw in our national character does not justify royalty.

There is a QUEEN of England. Think about that. A Queen and bunch of princes and princesses, Dukes, Earls and whatnot. Why? No one knows. The Queen isn’t really in charge of anything. She’s just the Queen. Check out her official title:

Her Majesty Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and of Her other Realms and Territories, Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith

Wow. Is it really much different than Idi Amin’s title?

His Excellency, President for Life, Field Marshal Al Hadji Doctor Idi Amin Dada, VC, DSO, MC, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Seas and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular and the Last King of Scotland.

Actually, Elizabeth is the Queen of Scotland, I think. Do you know her name? Elizabeth Windsor. That’s a damn nice name–but not as nice as being a QUEEN, I guess–but it sounds like a name a pretty girl would have.

HA! HA! We laugh at you commoners!

I’m not suggesting anything bad happen to the Royal Family. I’m not French, for God’s sake. It’s just a bit of silliness that we can do without. There are many “royal” families, but you don’t see us falling all over ourselves over King Michael of Romania or Ahmad Shah Khan, Crown Prince of Afghanistan.

Once we take over, the Royals can be American celebrities. Instead of being exalted as better than the rest of us, they can have reality TV shows like our other celebs

Will, Kate and Kate Plus 8: Hilarity ensues when Will and Kate inexplicably move in with Kate Gosselin.
The Amish Royal: Prince Harry lives the life of an Amish man on a farm in Central Ohio.
Toddlers and Tiaras–The Royal Addition: Elizabeth is hired to coach Honey Boo Boo for her many pageant appearances. Plus, she moves in with the family, forcing her to fight off the unwanted advances of Sugar Bear.
Princess Anne–Bigfoot Hunter: The title is self-explanatory.

These are just a few of the ideas that immediately come to mind. The Royals will provide us an endless supply of entertainment.

THE WARS

What do the American Revolutionary War, The War of 1812, World War I and World War II have in common? The British forced us into all of them. Okay, I’m not sure about the War of 1812, but I think that’s right. On the other three, I’m dead certain.

In both World Wars, we were forced to save their asses from the Germans. If it weren’t for us, they’d be goose-stepping in front of Buckingham Palace right now. Arguably, the Japanese forced us into WWII, but why do you think we were in Europe? To save France? Don’t make me laugh. England. Plain and simple.

Now, check out this little bit of history:

Germany tries to take over the world.
England starts getting its ass kicked.
USA jumps into WWI.
German ass is kicked.
Germany is torn apart
Germany becomes a democracy.
Germany becomes a bunch of Nazis.
Germany tries to take over the world.
England starts getting its ass kicked
USA jumps into WWII
Germany gets its ass kicked.
Germany gets torn apart again.
Germany becomes a democracy again.
???????

Do you see a pattern here? Hopefully, they’ll skip the Nazi thing this time, but it’s clear that the Germans will try to take over the world again. Then, we’re right back in another war. How is this England’s fault, you ask? It is obvious that they are particularly offensive to Germans and an inviting target as well. But, imagine if they were part of the old US of A? We are the most powerful warriors the planet has ever seen! The Germans will stay right where they are, except maybe for overrunning France. Again, who cares?

NUCLEAR THREAT

England has to have nuclear weapons, doesn’t it? Indian and Pakistan do, so England has to. I’ll just assume that’s correct. Imagine if those weapons fell into the hands of the Scots with their fiery temperaments and willingness do battle. How about Northern Ireland? Violent drunks–good lord. Is there any other country full of such unstable sorts that we would allow to have WMD (other than us, of course)? We take over and seize all the weapons. The world will be safer for it. I expect at least one Nobel Peace Prize for this idea alone.

GENERAL GOOFINESS

The pure silliness of the Brits is enough to justify military action. Their penchant for monocles, top hats and tailcoats. Their odd money–pounds, pence, quids and guineas. But, it’s their language which reduces them to little more than a sideshow. Consider that they say–and understand–the following:

I attend University.
I am going on holiday.
I am queued up.
I say, old man, where is the wash closet?
I’ve stored that in my boot.
My lorry needs petrol.
I’m cheesed off at your cockup!
He’s a beastly bugger–a bit of an arse.
I enjoy a fag with my tea.
She’s such a jammy bird, why is she with that josser?
Don’t give me any of your cheek, you git!

To their credit, their accents make them sound smart, at least until some of that nonsense starts pouring out. If you’re Scottish or Irish, you have the added disadvantage of also being incomprehensible.

THE PLAN

You may think conquering England, Britain, Great Britain, The United Kingdom and The Commonwealth of Nations is a daunting task. I think not. I’m sure our military leaders have already planned out a takeover “just in case.” If not, I have devised a simple strategy to crush them. Here is my plan:

We establish a beach head in Southern Ireland with the cooperation of our Irish friends whom we will ply with strong drink.
We will proceed on land across Ireland. Those who are not dead drunk after that march will stage an attack on Northern Ireland.
We will roll through Northern Ireland chanting anti-British slogans lulling them into inaction. Northern Ireland will then serve as our base of operations.
Simultaneously, we will invade Wales. I can’t imagine they have a military.
Once the Scots get wind of our invasion, they will rise up again, paint their faces blue and attack England from the north. Just to be safe, once the war is over, we’ll build a huge peat wall to keep them at bay.
Once hemmed in, the Brits will surrender realizing that no Americans are available to save them.
Scotland and England will be combined into one land–Fabulous America.
Northern Ireland will become a penal colony for political dissidents.
As my ancestral homeland, I will grant Wales its independence but only as a puppet state. One condition–Tom Jones has to be named President.
Crest White Strips will be distributed throughout the country by air drop, thus winning the hearts of the people.

Wales President-for-Life Tom Jones

Bye, bye “Great” Britain. Hello, Fabulous America! With their overlords crushed, those hockey-playing Canadian goons will be vanquished to the scrap heap of history. What then?

: This map shows the proposed invasion route and how the UK will look after it is liberated.

I suppose every group of savages has its redeeming qualities. The same is true of the British. Their humor is excellent. Monty Python, Marty Feldman, Harry Enfield and Benny Hill are just a few of their entertaining sorts. Certainly, their music has been fine with The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Bon Scott and Led Zeppelin. We’ll preserve some of that.

This statue of Bon Scott isn’t even in Scotland. It’s in Australia. I’ll fix that.

Beyond those few attributes, the rest of their culture will be wiped out. No more bangers and mash. Beer will be served cold–not luke warm. French fries are French fries–not chips. They’ll eat cookies, not biscuits. Iced tea will be iced. Football is football, not soccer. Quit boiling all your food. Drive on the correct side of the road. Our cops aren’t called bobbies, and they carry guns. Everyone else does, too, so get armed, and Bob’s your uncle!

In this new world, the USA is supreme, if it isn’t already. France will reflexively surrender (old habits die hard, you know). Canada will fall without even a whimper. And that, old chap, will be jolly good. Now, bugger off.

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