Early Voting in Arkansas

 

 

As the FBI may have told you during an unscheduled in-home visit while collecting data on me, I am so liberal that even other radicals see me and scream “Yikes.” In fact, I’m trying to figure out ways to spend your tax dollars right now. Thanks, Obama!

Having said that, I voted early today and opted to vote in the Republican primary. The Republican primary is more interesting than the Democratic one. (Remember that I live in Arkansas. Trump is going to win this bag of loose nuts by 10 points.) I was certain someone was going to jump from the rafters and mace me or that the helpful clerks were going to laugh and force me back out the door. I’m just about the last person in Arkansas that the current Republicans would target or want voting in their primary. (Even though people tell me I look as nuts as Donald Trump, am built like Chris Christie, creep them out like Cruz, and have the verbal gifts of Ben Carson.) So, I used my vote to mainly vote against the crazies, though that doesn’t narrow it down much.

After checking my I.D. and weird name at least 17 times, the clerks gathered and finally decided that if I LOOKED normal enough to vote in the Republican primary, they were going to allow me to do so. One of the clerks made the astute point that if Donald Trump could run as a candidate, anyone should be able to vote, no matter how impaired they might be. Compliment?

On a side note, I’m continuing to learn that voting clerks aren’t accustomed to really weird people like me. Once I get them laughing, though, you would think we were having a party. The voting process needs more levity.

Voting is our way of proving to other people how dumb we can be. And I demonstrate my ignorance proudly.

The important race, of course, was that of Constable. I couldn’t vote for Mr. Evil Mustache (Tom Clowers) or that Duggar fellow, so Mr. Snow got my vote. I voted Bobby Jindal for President, only because he is no longer in the race. If a Republican wins the Presidency, I want it to be someone who doesn’t want the job. (I asked if I could pay a fee and vote 25 times against Trump and Cruz, but they didn’t seem to understand my question.) I voted for Curtis Coleman because he isn’t John Boozman, in part due to John’s terrible impersonation of a life-sized puppet. I voted for Sharon Lloyd because she isn’t Lance Eads. (No offense to his parents, who are two of the best people on the planet.) I voted against Courtney Goodson for Supreme Court because I firmly believe that if you are going to sell-out, at least wear racing stripes on your judicial sleeves indicating who paid for your affiliations. It’s only fair.

It was interesting learning about the candidates, seeing what issues were at hand and then using the time-tested method of voting for the candidate with the best hair.

Come November, I will of course return to the venue of logic and reason and to the liberal candidates, leaving behind today’s brief foray into the bizarre mix of modern conservatism.

But if you need someone to help spend your tax dollars, let me know. I’ll write President Sanders or Clinton next January to let them know on your behalf.

PS: Early voting at the rodeo grounds was fantastic, as it always is. They are professionals and I couldn’t imagine things running any more smoothly than that group manages it.

A Few Pictures…

 

 

x color world

The simple dreams. If each of us could see the world this way, too colorful to make small, too diverse to reduce to black and white.

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An analogy for either sports or prolonged politics…

 

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batman rule

While I do enjoy standing menacingly along the edge of rooftops in low nocturnal light, this doesn’t make me Batman. Likewise, just because I might be great in one arena in knowledge or life does not grant me expert status in any other.

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Hero-Picnic-2048x1178

(I posted this to social media to poke a friend.) Given the collective age at the recently-announced April get-together, I’m certain that a large asteroid is going to wipe us all out if we do convene.

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cabin 4 wisterial january (35)

 

Wedding anniversaries are either a testament to the greater patience and perseverance of women or an indication that the threat of punishment for murdering us in our sleep is an adequate deterrent.

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julia 81st bday (13)

I recently bet a writer friend of mine, “Any fool can write a romance novel.” She challenged me to do so; here it is: “He apologized sincerely, handed her the remote, finished the foot rub, moved away the dishes to do later, and asked what he could do to make his mother-in-law happier. They lived happily ever after.” She owes me $100. Random House Publishing optioned the book for two million dollars.

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loc-0403-cs-Greenville-house-fire-1

Our Cat Güino and Our New Pixie Crowder

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Recently, I had someone make Dawn a magical fairy and pixie door. Like most magic novices, we didn’t realize that we were dabbling in both adventure and mischief. There are no ‘tame’ pixies, evidently.

Many times Dawn exits, I’ve heard faint echoes of a discordant banjo or of a high, lilting voice singing unfamiliar melodies. I think our pixie is named Crowder, as I’ve seen it written in the dust above the refrigerator and on a loose piece of carbon paper I left atop the coffee table one morning. He won’t use the obvious methods of communication – believe me, I’ve tried.

This picture is of our cat Güino sitting on a stool, looking out to watch Dawn, who had went outside to cool off. It was a typical Saturday morning. I imagined I heard singing and waited. I couldn’t see Crowder, but Güino’s fur stood on end as the soft voice increased in intensity. A bright light moved across the baseboard, a light muffled as if by gauze or cotton. Just as the light neared the tip of the cat’s tail, I heard a soft laugh ring out, more like a cackle.

Instantly, a narrow beam of light emanated from below Güino and his ears tripled in length. Güino didn’t jump. All he did was meow the most plaintive and surprised noise I’ve ever heard emanate from a cat. The hair on the back of my neck stiffened.

That’s when I snapped this picture, the best evidence I can provide that Dawn’s surprise Fairy Door is working. Crowder laughed maniacally again and the effused light vanished.

I know I photoshop often but even a critical review of this picture will substantiate that nothing behind the cat’s ears is distorted, which would be the ‘tell’ for editing or manipulation.

I await further shenanigans from Crowder. I think Dawn does too. She was happy I bought her a magical door but even more excited to know that we invited a mischievous friend to live in our house with us.

The cat is not amused, though.

A Friday Barrage of Pictures

 

adam ruins everything

I only wish there were 2,652 episodes of the show. There is so much misinformation in the world. I guess I should stop making it up?

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alligator friend

I wrote this for someone who lives in California, aka “The Polka State.”
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arm of leg

 

bette davis font

This joke is potentially completely off the charts for the young whippersnappers crowd.
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can you find

 

dr oz

 

fame thrower

 

handyman

 

landing

This one was during a conversation with an actual boss.

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logic meets bureaucracy

Because no matter how great your idea, there is inevitably a manager who will strangle either you, or the implementation of the idea.

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look away from a sunset

 

no news fox news

If you are a Fox News fan, no offense is intended, although I did send this one to the RNC headquarters for pre-approval. They laughed, so you should too.

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springdeal


Because honestly, those marketing geniuses are creating ideas faster than I can mock them. Just shuffle a few letters around and we have something to work with here. You’re welcome, Springdale.

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sunset b

 

the mirror hyprocrisy


This above statement is so true that I almost went back in time when I created it.

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z elegeanteee


I made this for a friend because she loves “Sons of Anarchy.” Plus, rumor has it she can’t ride a bicycle without smacking her head into the low branches of a tree.

Good Mooning America

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I want to see an a.m. show titled “Good Mooning America.” It would feature people around the U.S. mooning the camera before their first cup of coffee. Theme song: “Bad Moon Rising” by CCR. Let’s face it, everyone would think it was stupid, but totally watch. And it would force people to read carefully.

People Are People

People Are People

Sometimes, we’ve heard a word, phrase, or song a million times. We’ve listened superficially so long that we’ve lost the ability to see the layers intended to be heard. There are a million songs like this.

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While looking up a phrase to tag something I had written, Depeche Mode popped up, which seemed strange. After spending a few moments trying to guess how Depeche Mode was in any way related to my idea, I found the lyrics:

“People are people so why should it be
You and I should get along so awfully
So we’re different colors
And we’re different creeds
And different people have different needs
It’s obvious you hate me
Though I’ve done nothing wrong
I never even met you
So what could I have done
I can’t understand
What makes a man
Hate another man
Help me understand…
Now you’re punching and you’re kicking
And you’re shouting at me
I’m relying on your common decency
So far it hasn’t surfaced
But I’m sure it exists
It just takes a while to travel
From your head to your fist…”

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I’ve probably even read a comparison like mine before, but not until this morning did the connection fire correctly in my brain. This isn’t a particularly brilliant observation, given the overwhelming number of times I’ve heard the song or the obviousness of what’s being said.

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It is, however, a great analogy for education. We are all learning, albeit at different paces. And where you’ve been doesn’t matter nearly as much as where you are now. X

“Sing Along” From Rudderless

I’m not one to recommend music, as music is intensely personal, often unexplainable, and sometimes indefensible.

Dawn & I watched “Rudderless,” which was a gem of a movie for reasons that are difficult to define. There were a couple of songs in the movie that were spectacular. My favorite was “Sing Along.” I’m not sure what specifically was so compelling about it but the chords of my heart were strumming the first time I heard it and several times since. Warning: remember that it’s me recommending it…

Billy Crudup “Sing Along” from “Rudderless”

“Sing Along” lyrics with music

 

I Don’t Care Who Cam Newton or Peyton Manning Are…

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Somehow, I know this is going to boil someone’s potatoes, even though it is an honest observation that rings ‘truth’ like a massive bell for me. (PS: I don’t care about the Super Bowl, or about the endless loops of commentary, or whether Cam Newton or Peyton Manning are good or bad people. That I know who these goofs are is a bad sign in itself, at least to me.)

 

I Do Know You

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This post opens softly and as with a strange movie, please stick around for the plot twist… It is true that social media often gives us a false feeling of knowing everything about someone, especially when we jump to hurtful conclusions. Most of the time, it is because we see truth in the words or pictures of our friends and family, uncomfortable truths which prick at our own certainty. We recognize our doubt as treason toward whatever we believe and that doubt often manifests as derision toward others.
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(PS: but if more people at least t-r-i-e-d to use social media like I do, as an outlet for who I am and for expressive purposes instead of innocuous links and memes, we might indeed know who people are. Social media is a wondrous creation, if used creatively.)
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I’ve written about this topic at least a dozen times, because it seems to come back from the dead in new and queasy ways. John Pavlovitz runs across the same things I have, albeit from a different perspective as a progressive Christian pastor. (He recently reminded us about the “Iceberg Perspective” of human interaction.)
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If you are a liberal whose idea of rightness is the ability to change one’s mind, a skeptic with the default position of ‘we should examine this closer,’ or simply someone with the idea that the best or most pragmatic idea gets the most attention, you probably think about these things more than most people.
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For many, they recoil at the idea that we can live in a secular society, one that embraces multiple religions and expressions of faith, as long as none seek dominance, hurt people, or limit others free expression. Some don’t want to hear that their friends believe health care is a right, one which of course should be provided by society as a whole without regard to such subjective concepts as ‘laziness’ or ‘worthiness.’ That prophets such as Jesus were revolutionary precisely because the ‘other guy’ was placed foremost in our priorities, without qualification. For most major religions, there are no pre-qualifications for compassion. Being was sufficient. “Pure meritocracies are for asses,” to coin a new phrase.
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There are so many smart and compassionate people in our world, all with both great ideas and horrendous ones. (Someone thought putting fish on pizza was a great concept, so we can’t always trust even the geniuses running around loose among us.) We can’t judge people too harshly for sometimes believing that aliens kidnap us, that carbon emissions don’t impact our environment, or even when they go crazy and insist that either Bush was a good president; sometimes, they have stupendous and uplifting ideas, too.
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But…
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But, if you post that you hate all members of a particular religion, just ‘know’ that gays and lesbians choose their ‘lifestyle,’ or refuse to listen to any contrary – or new – information and reasoning about life, politics or religion, then I do know you.
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If you say the “N-word” out of hate or even passive superiority (even in quiet moments behind closed doors), don’t want women to be pastors, priests or clergy, think war is often the answer, won’t consider that birth control is often good for humanity, or want your brand of religion to be the only one with a voice, I do know you.
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If you look the to the imperfect past as a roadmap instead of a cautionary guidebook, revere our all-too-human ancestors who thought killing people because of color, religion or manifest destiny was the only answer and wish desperately to return to whatever your version of the good old days might be, I do know you.
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If you think people are lazier, dumber or worse than they ever been, or that the world isn’t improving in multiple ways – and your outlook above life and everything in it reflects that strange belief, then I do know you.
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If you look to the future and see dark shadows instead of the chance at greatness for all of us, I do know you.
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You are the collective ‘us,’ and we can all learn to be ‘the other.’
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But it is uncomfortable to recognize that we are often telling people who we are, incrementally, minute by minute, word by word. As I’m doing now, hopefully while not breaking too many toes.
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It is this revelation and sharing that makes the word ‘alive’ bristle with promise and expectation. Thanks

 

Atypical Typical

Dr. Oz. Does anyone else think he is the 2nd creepiest guy in the world? I keep looking online on Interpol to see if I can match his picture to known offenders around the world. I feel like that French detective in “Hannibal.”

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I’m going to start posing with my cans of tuna and bbq potato chips in the parking lot. Give these deer hunters a run for their money. PS: Don’t go in the store in full camo and face meshnet. They think you are there for something else entirely. Even if you are ‘hunting’ chips.

deer hunters

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Not all advice is good – and no truth applies to all people: Someone who didn’t know me said “Do what your mom would do.” After the high-speed chase and meeting all those police officers, they gave me a set of steel bracelets and insisted on putting me up for the night. They even asked for my autograph and asked me a bunch of questions, like they were interested in me. Thanks, mom.

bright

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No more Natural Food Stores. Henceforth, only Super-Natural Food Stores for me.

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Really, you can start a martial arts studio anywhere. Just rent a room, then start punching and kicking people while talking in a smooth, even macho voice. Judo is just fancy slapping and some legwork. With a monthly fee. And goofy pants.

x judo shop