2011- Oh Happy Day-2012

I learned last night, during a Christmas trivia game, in 1835 the National debt was actually paid off. Oh happappappy day. Have you heard this, it’s true? So one time in our countries history we owed no beaver pelts to a country whose major contribution to western civilization is the buffet restaurant. If I’m not wrong and I usually am, buffet is French and French fries are on buffets. Do we owe the French money too?

That’s a stupid question; we owe money to our friends, people we don’t like and people we can’t stand. Apparently we owe money to the extremely poor, the moderately poor, those with money and those who are rich. There is a bright side; we don’t owe money to whatever demographic I’m in, Oh happappappy day.

Let me talk a little, insert smelly word here. 2011 has been a long bare knuckled boxing match between the democrats and republicans. It’s a slugfest which appears to have no end. Many Americans want to claim this is a new problem. It’s politics as usual as I’ve seen it my entire life. I’ve got an idea, let’s just flip it completely and complain for another four years. It’s not worked well all my life, why change now? Americans continue to find themselves up smelly word creek, one party has the boat, the other the paddles. Oh happappappy day.

Many notable people died last year Osama Bin Laden and Moammar Gadhafi have my votes for The dead of the Year award, oh happappappy day. Steve Jobs death proved two things; a gazillion bucks won’t make you live longer and will not pay off the National debt. Lots of celebrities died of natural causes or stupided themselves to death, as many others continue to be too stupid to die. Are politicians and celebrities branch kin?

Last year we celebrated another notable trend. As we continue to spend more money and create new laws to annoy American farmers and their workers, the number of illegal aliens crossing the Mexican border dropped for the first time in two decades. People are quick to believe all our hard earned cash, spent on the problem, has extinguished this political hot potato. In reality, fair trade has created new jobs and better wages in Mexico and our economy has deteriorated so badly that Americans are considering migrating to Mexico to pick jumping beans. This is easily repaired; simply pay the out of work auto workers, thirty-five bucks an hour to pick oranges and strawberries. Oh that’s right, they won’t do it for that and if they would, the union wouldn’t allow it.

As we enter into 2012, we are faced with yet another election cycle. Another bunch of mudslinging misfits are taking the stage. I’ve heard Obama has over a billion dollars to grant him a further four years. So many republicans are in the running; we may have to borrow hip waders from those, cranberry juice commercials guys, to figure out which one was capable of placing his name on the ballot or who had to pay a lawyer to do it. Donald Trump now says he’ll run if no republican candidate surfaces who can beat Obama. He vows to use his vast amounts of money to win, at all costs. Will a gazillion bucks but an election?

Spend a gazillion, make 300,000.00 a year, it makes sense to me and explains why we’re in so much debt. Our politicians apparently have no clue about profit/loss or the sound principles of investment. Why not get a couple hundred bucks from every American and pay the debt off, for the second time? Amend the oath of office to include this statement; if I suggest borrowing anything over $17.50 from a foreign country, Donald trump had permission to fire me. You did what with who, you did not have sex with what woman, you did not know we were selling, stuff, to buy weapons, to give weapons as gifts, to get a better deal on oil and my favorite who stepped on the recorder button and erased incriminating evidence? You’re fired.

I’ve got an idea, let’s put all the presidential candidates in bikinis and make them fight it out, literally in the mud. It would be the most entertaining election cycle in thirty years. I don’t think you can effectively steal, cheat or lie about either in a mud soaked bikini. I think a debate in a cool air conditioned room and mud encrusted nipples might break that mess up a good bit and give us Americans a fighting chance.

Alright, I’m just having a little fun, smile once in a while, will ya? In spite of the past and future problems, we live in the best country in the world. Happy New Year America.

Santa Gets a Gift

Have you seen the traffic during the last week? Judging by the thickness of it, I’m betting you have. Certainly none of us have worked, gone to school or done anything constructive, other than shop, for the last two weeks. I must admit Mary Carmen pulled me from under my rock, kicking and screaming, to endure the long anticipated, much avoided trip to the kingdoms of retail.
There are many. Target, we are the targets. K-Mart, let’s go there too, ok? Best Buy, it’s best to stay home and not buy. Belks or bust, in Sears we trust and a merry JC Penny to us all. Let us not forget the real kings of the holiday, Wall-Mart and big brother Sam’s have become the alter at which we kneel. Did you think for the slightest moment I was going to say something about Jesus back there? Jesus is relegated to those places that don’t accept credit cards and appears to have no place in Christmas as we now know it. In fact that statement is longer entirely true as you can hit the ATM inside churches mustn’t miss your opportunity to give your ten percent. I think that ten percent was originally earmarked for the needy, not meant to be taken up, packaged up and sent overseas to help those who presumably need Jesus more than our own homeless do.
I remember the saying, everything except the kitchen sink. That saying has evolved to everything including the kitchen sink and Wall-Mart stands accused of plagiarizing it. I’ve heard, every year, with no exceptions, that this year was a huge disappointment for retailers. Give me a break, we as Americans can only buy so much cheap stuff. Substitute another word for stuff if your imagination allows. Much of what we buy lasts much less time than the cost of it. The retailers make their part and then the card companies make three other peoples parts. We have broken cheap stuff and consumed up everything we buy, way before the ghost of Christmas to come, namely our credit card bill have come at all.
We wonder why we’re in trouble, we spend three times as much as we make and most of it during December, it’s not too hard to run the numbers and see the dead end road we’re careening down. It must be okay, after all our government runs along in front of us paving the way. Why are government officials and those in the credit industry so surprised by our actions? As all children do, we learn by example and emulate those in charge.
So back to the good stuff, the dirt on my being convinced to go Christmas shopping. We left the house with lunch packed. We shopped for so long I developed a hang nail, was cured of several diseases which didn’t have cures when we left home, witnessed several people die of old age in lines and grew a beard. I witnessed an assault which started over a pretty little pink sweater covered with little sheep, wise men and Jesus. I was served papers for the trial, was a witness in it and stood by as the verdict was handed down. I tell you that shopping trip was the longest three hours of my life.
Of course we only brought the gifts we had to buy, kids and grandkids, you understand? I being a good husband took care of Mary Carmen during a party we attended last week.
Ronald Regan was once given an extraordinary gift by the CIA, Bill Clinton was given the same gift so many times, his name is included in the definition of it. COE’s receive it on a regular basis and I’m giving it to Santa, its called plausible deniability. So on Christmas morning when Mary Carmen opens her gift. Frozen little cucumber sandwiches, cocktail weenies, sausage balls, various assorted peppermint and some of those olives stuffed with pimento cheese, impaled on a toothpick, which I stole from aforementioned party. She’ll most certainly file suit, and rightfully so, against him for not showing up at our house. During the ensuing trial he’ll be able to swear his oath, still shrug his shoulders and say, “I didn’t know, I never got a change of address” and unlike most who say it, he’ll be telling the truth. You’re welcome Santa.
Just once as the season progresses and we are constantly bombarded by the multitude of Christmas carols, not the least of which is, Grandmaw Got run Over By A Raindeer, I’d like to hear Happy Birthday sung to Jesus. So, plausible deniability to Santa and Happy Birthday to Jesus, what a great way to disguise my being cheap or just too broke to take part in the debt riddled frenzy called Christmas.
Happy Birthday dear Jesus, Happy Birthday to you.

Have you Noticed

Have You Noticed
Kennesaw
Or is it just me? When someone else owns a car, like the dealership, it’s worth more than your house. When you’re trying to sell one, it’s worth less than that ole dog sleeping under the porch which simply appeared one day and won’t go away. The sticker says it’s worth one thing, the blue book says another. The bank will only loan what they think it’s really worth, which is just a little short of what you need.
The insurance company charges you based on what the auto industry says, a number which is simply pulled from the air or based on a large profit margin. Well, some of it is based on making the union happy and paying some guy thirty-five bucks an hour to sweep floors. The only thing that would make more sense is for us to install a union for government workers. If I hear one more time how government workers have a write to treat you like dirt because they are over worked and under paid, I’m blowing a gasket, getting red in the #$% and going postal, at the same time. I’ve never worked at the post office and can barely spell postal, but we rednecks don’t have to understand something to do it. If you don’t like your job go to the auto industry. They pay much better and the union is already set up to harass and annoy Joe American.
If you wreck your car, insurance companies use another book to decide what it’s really worth and pay you on that number. The Gap between what its worth and what you owe, well that’s what gap insurance is for. Gap insurance is simply the insurance company holding you down, while the bank ties you up, so the auto industry can have their way with you. I’m sure glad we keep bailing these people out what would we do without them?
Have you ever noticed that your house is the same way? The roller coaster goes up when you get it financed, then down when you try to sell it. The roller coaster goes up when you refinance, then down when you get behind. The roller coaster goes up while you’re buying insurance or paying taxes, but plummets if they take it and sell it under foreclosure. You are then responsible for someone else’s bad deal on your former home. You owe the difference and in this case the bank is having its way with you as the insurance and finance companies hold you down. Even though you had equity in the house the gap between what you owe and what they sell it for is usually more than what you make in two full years of toil. Ever notice there are more houses in America than there are people and we still have homeless children?
What about baseball cards and comic books? Ever notice that your uncle George could leave you a 1932, Yankees Micky Mouse, the internet says it’s worth fifty-seven bucks, the card shop charges that for it, if they have one, but the one you got is worth less than a picture of aunt Mable bending over in the petunias with her bloomers showing? Comic books, don’t get me started, they were worth less than the paper they were printed on when they were printed, but someone will convince you they’re worth ten times that now.
It’s like that with all collectables. They’re worth a ton when you buy them, collect dust while you own them and are worth nothing when you die and leave them to someone. Wow that sounds like I’m talking about money, except mine doesn’t have time to collect dust as it’s always headed to someone else’s pocket and doesn’t stay in my account long enough to get comfortable. I remember when it was a good idea to collect money. You’d put some dollars in the bank and let them hang around with a bunch of their buddies. Soon we’ll be paying for stuff with baseball cards and comic books, apparently they’re worth more than our currency.
We are Americans and we are consumers. We have consumed oil at such a rate that it will soon go the way of the dinosaurs which it came from. We consume resources so voraciously that soon oil, natural gas and even water will become extinct. We take from the earth until it has nothing left to give. We as lower and middle class Americans are also a resource. When those at the top, use us up, where will they be and what will all their money be worth?
Have you ever noticed we’re on a runaway train and no one’s driving? Shhhhhhh don’t say anything the last thing we need is for someone to stand up and do something about it. You can beat a dog for only so long before it bites you.

Love in Recession

Recession hits where it hurts, at the gas pumps, on the electric bill, and in the grocery store. I think most will agree our retirement programs have taken a hard hit too. I’ve got to tell you, until talking to a friend the other day, I had no idea just what it does to love.

He said, the first thing I did was fall madly in love with the girl at the local convenience store. I figured she could sneak me a little gas, but found out she couldn’t. Suddenly I was much less fond of her and she did have that large wart, so I broke my own heart and let her go. It was the best three days of my life.

With gas getting higher, my hunting grounds shrunk considerably. I knew I’d need to settle for a drunk chick with just a few teeth, near home. I found love number two at the local fast food restaurant. It only took about a week for the manager to realize I was eating three meals a day and paying for none. I would have stayed with her except they fired her for it. I just can’t tolerate someone who is too lazy to work, so once again I lost of the love of my life.

I went to the bank looking for my next love, but every time one smiled I noticed she had all her teeth and dressed better than I did. I was out of my element, but I tried for a while. My cousin, who worked at a bank, informed me that there was no way to steal money. That ended that vein of gold, well, that and the fact that they locked me up for stalking and banned me from the bank forever. I think I’m gonna look stalking up in the dictionary, cause I still ain’t too sure what corn has to do with love or banks.

Then I had a stroke of brilliance. I dressed in my best clothes and went to a local plant, just as the whistle was blowing. Hey, lots of girls, maybe I’d get one who didn’t have a ride. I pulled up, opened the passenger door and stood there as hundreds of women came out. After they were all gone I noticed seven other guys doing the same thing and one of them was wearing a bow tie. We looked at each other shrugged our shoulders and left. I tried it for a few days then they closed the plant and moved it to Mexico. I thought about going down there, but decided the girls down there just don’t make enough money and I can’t learn to say cerveza, which is just Mexican for beer.

I tried the college women, but realized after the first day the police on campus have no sense of humor. On top of that, those young girls really aren’t capable of having an intelligent conversation with a man who has a third grade education. It’s a shame they’re so dim, they are real purty.

So I sat around the house for a few weeks until my savings and retirement ran out. Plainly stated, I sold the rusty 57-ford truck and the three old Camaro’s I had in my front yard. I still got a Rambler and an Oldsmobile in the back yard, but I figure a man can only let himself go so far.

Then it happened. I noticed the girl that lives across the road about two doors down. I’d noticed her before; in fact as a kid I would walk all the way around the block to avoid her. She has all her teeth, her hair is almost the color it was in high school and her father hasn’t shot at me in at least five years. Her brother can say cerveza in case we ever go down to Mexico, to get locked up. I tell ya, its true love, I don’t think I can live without her. She’s got the warts and she’s mean as a pole cat, but she works at Wall Mart and gets a 10 % discount.

The Two Buck Burger

You start with a third of a pound of hamburger, form it into a square like a Krystal or White Castle burger. Add salt and pepper to your taste, then place in pan and fry until it starts to brown. When you think it’s done enough for you, place both halves of a split ciabatta roll on top of each burger. Allow them to simmer on top, getting steamed and slightly greasy at the same time. After a little while lift rolls, flip burgers and add cheese. Replace rolls and allow them to sit a spell longer. Add Let, tom, pickles, mayo, mustard and ketchup or the things you normally add to your burgers. What you have is a taste burger for less than two bucks. These will amaze your friends and impress your family.

Clean Old Fashioned Hate

Now let me see if I got this right. First off the rivalry between Tech and Georgia is called clean, old fashioned hate. Okay I’m diggin it. Supposedly it dates back to 1893, to Techs first win which happened to be against us. Not only did we throw rocks at them after they beat us, we threw rocks at them while they were beating us. We also called them names it appears, do what? They were called the Blacksmiths back then and probably weren’t good at that either. It was after that game the Tech fight song was written and it contains the line, To H$ll with Georgia.
The southern gentry of the late eighteen hundreds were sending their sons to Georgia to learn to run plantations. Only problem, they needed to teach the average slow peanut farmer how to shoe a fast horse. Wala, Tech was born. You’d think that in over a hundred years they’d have at least learned how to shoe a fast Bulldawg. The horse era ended with Tech still developing its curriculum. The tractor era eased in, but it was a dozen years before they figured out a tractor couldn’t be shoed. At least the tractor would sit still long enough for them to have a go at it. The idea of a dozen nerds trying to shoe a John Deere is a pretty funny one, at least in my head.
In 1961 the only guy in the school who owned a car and it being a thirty year old wreck, arrived at a game after sampling some of North Georgia’s finest shine, then drove it onto the field. At other colleges that would have been called termination, at Tech it was called tradition. You’d think the Tech program could afford to bring this tradition into the current century, like drive a Corvette or maybe a Mustang. If not they should have at least left the car original and be driving it onto the field as the wreck it represents. The truth of it, they only need come up with one person who is smart enough to drive the thing, he drives onto the field with the team in tow. Secretly the driver is a Georgia graduate in drag as a light loafered nerd. I think it’s the only way they insure the players can find the field. What do you call the driver of the Ramblin Wreck, team captain, Valedictorian?
“Gee coach where is the field?”
“Good Lord Tevin, how long you been here?” The coach rolls his eyes.
“Didn’t your mother know the difference between a T and a D? Never mind, just follow that squeaking, smoking old car on Saturday and you’ll be fine.”
Some of this rivalry stems from our lobbying so hard to keep Tech from rejoining the SEC, but mostly it comes from our beating the pants off of them for years. Did you know they have little bulldawgs in their urinals in their locker rooms? Every time a Tech player uses the restroom, he does so, on a Bulldawg. The primary color red is permanently banned from the Nerd Herds campus. Ever wonder why Tech never comes to Athens to play? We set our standards high enough to keep that from happening and we can’t allow them to come here, even for one game.
Before the game Saturday many predicted Tech would win, I bet the college they attended had classes on shoeing a tractor and discussing building bridges too. With this win coach Richt has a better record in their stadium that all their coaches combined. That is a little too funny and it caused me to have to leave my office and clean the milk from my nose. Never laugh hysterically while drinking milk and eating toast, at least not in mixed company.
So now Georgia must spend the week getting ready for the SEC championship game against LSU, this year’s bullies of the SEC. Tech players must endeavor to learn how to build a bridge that will allow tractors to cross the creek from one peanut patch to the other. I believe they are secretly working on genetically altering peanuts so they can shoe tractors and beat Bulldawgs. At least the IQ average on the team will improve.
The season is winding down and soon I’ll have to come up with other things to make fun of, but I must admit, making fun of our neighbors has been a hoot. I’ve only gotten a few death threats, none to worry about seeing as the Ramblin Wreck won’t be Ramblin to my house like some sick, hick, laser pointer. I doubt any of them could find Athens without something to follow.
Larry would have sure been proud of the way we handled Tech Saturday, it’s a shame he wasn’t there and he is missed.
Larry Munson 09/28/22 – 11/20/11