murder, or just a joke?

Rumor has it that Karl Rove wants to kill Todd Akin.

 

Actually, he made a joke that implied that he would not want to be investigated closely if Akin were found mysteriously murdered.

Ha, ha.

Actually, Rove as the assassin who actually carries the gun and pulls the trigger defies credibility, so let’s not even think of trying to pin physical violence on the rotund one.  I think his point is that what Todd Akin said about “legitimate rape” and the black eye it gave the Missouri Senatorial candidate is an embarrassment to the Grand Old Party as well as it is to modern, civilized society.

I know an artist who once did a series of sculptures based on angels.  He invited me to the showing of the sculptures at a local art gallery and, during the conversation, I asked him about his choice of subject matter and whether he believed in angels or not.  The conversation moved from whether or not he believed in angels to the subject of religion and faith.  He told me that one who has faith need not require physical proof. I thought about that conversation this morning as I read the story about Rove and Akin and I thought there was a point to be made about faith.  The definition of faith I found today is as follows.

Faith: belief that is not based on proof

I watched RNC coverage this week and I was surprised by a lack of specifics and I keep coming back to the statement by Todd Akin. What I heard from the Republicans this week were vague and flowery stories about a beautiful place they are going to take us, and they don’t know where it is or how we are going to get there.  We just need to have faith.  We just need to believe.  We just need to drink their Kool-Aid.

Akin was basically reiterating the position of the Republican platform when he inserted his foot into his mouth.  I think, however, since it is not a purely religious issue, and he does represent the show-me state, he was compelled to attach some cold, hard facts, rather than simply to rely on faith.  I think he got caught up in the moment and tried to explain his position by making up some cold, hard “facts.”  Unfortunately, his “facts” were more a wish rather than something he could prove.  His “facts” were based on his faith that his opinion had to be right, so he needed to provide proof for those of little faith.

He and his fellow Republicans are going to take us to a much better place:  A place where everything is pure and good.  And how are they going to get us there?

They’ll make it up as they go along.

walkin' on the water

I had a few momentary thoughts of terror yesterday morning when I read about Congressman Kevin Yoder skinny-dipping in the Sea of Galilee.  My anxiety was not because a fellow Kansan might have had one more drink than he should have, lost his clothes and tried to re-enact Jesus’ fabled walk upon those same waters.  After all, how many times have I and my fellow Kansans been somewhere near water where alcohol was served and one thing led to another?  Usually it is a lake, reservoir or farm pond and not a sacred historic site, but we all know how the story goes.

“Liquor?  Why, yes, just to be social.  Is the water warm today?  Oh, no, I won’t need a bathing suit…”

Yoder said that alcohol played no role and I have to accept that as the truth, but usually it takes me a few drinks before I will unharness the old package.

Well, you know the drill.  Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

However, my fellow rednecks and I are expected to get drunk and do stupid things.  Our representative is supposed to be a tea-totaler and not do stupid things.

Oh, wait!  Yoder is a member of Congress, and that group is famous for doing stupid things, so I can’t expect their behavior to be half a good as my fellow rednecks.  Please disregard my first argument that he should be held to a higher standard.

My terror, however, was two-fold.  I still can’t get it through my head that Yoder is not my congressman.  We moved a couple of miles west three years ago and either moved out of the district he represents or we were gerrymandered out when they moved the boundaries to insure that no Democrat would ever again win the district once represented by the highly respected, sober and fully-clothed, Dennis Moore.

Oh, good, Yoder is not my congressman. 

This should help the Democrat running against him, I thought.

Then I remembered.

Oh, great!  Because the district has been gerrymandered to insure a Democrat will never win, there isn’t even one running, just a Libertarian without a ghost of a chance, even though he thinks this will help put him over the top.  Despite the fact it will have no effect on the election it will be fun to hear the congressman explain this again and again.

day one

The question has come up a number of times the last few days: When is day one?


Was day one actually Friday night when I shook the last hand and signed out for the last time? That would have, theoretically, been just another Friday night when Jimbo would have left work for the week, just like he has countless other times over the last five decades.


Or, would it have been Saturday, the first day off work after a long career? One could argue both sides. On one side, the argument is that, although Saturday is a typical day off, that it was a different Saturday, since I left the job at work and was not thinking about the previous week or strategizing about the week upcoming. I think I disqualified Friday and Saturday as day one because I still strategized in bed Friday night and wondered what I had failed to impart upon my replacement and what I needed to communicate to him.


Sunday as day one would have been a lukewarm argument. The pro-day-one argument was that the elimination of Sunday night mental preparation for the following work day was not necessary and therefore a relaxed Sunday night. However, the strategizing continued. What did I forget to do? What did I leave out? What did I fail to give emphasis in my last week of training the new guy?


Therefore, I assert that Monday was day one.


The strategic planning and the “what if” and “if then” scenarios were beginning to move to the recesses of the brain. The realization that total release from a career that demanded 24/7 attention will not happen in one day or one weekend had begun to set in. The realization that I am not free and won’t be for a week or two—or maybe more—had become reality.


However, I was as free as I had been in any time in recent memory. In an era where the day off no longer exists, where holidays are a time to be with the family and sneak in some work time and when the definition of vacation is doing ones work outside the office, being retired takes on an unfamiliar significance. I am not complaining, though. I am good with it—very, very good with it.


Yeah, Monday was day one.


And if you were to argue that my first day of freedom was spent doing laundry, cleaning house, cooking and doing dishes and that doesn’t sound like much of a way to enjoy oneself, I can only suggest you try it some time. It’s about as good as it gets.


Now, let’s see what kind of a ball we can have on day two.