The SHORT
STACK
WRITINGS FROM
ALASKA SERIES II
S. Pam MaGee
~ Chinook Journal ~
Alaska
is big. Alaska is unique. Alaska is a far away place, especially from the
mainstream political scene of Pennsylvania Avenue, some 4000 air miles away.
Alaska’s own capital is closer to Seattle then it is to most of the 572
thousand square miles of wilderness that is home to bears, moose, enormous
caribou herds, horrendous flocks of mosquitoes and about a half-million
residents scattered here and there and everywhere. But Alaska is the richest of
states under the red, white and blue. We have oil. And Alaska gets the biggest
bang from the buck, through yours and mine income taxation appropriations. So
basically, Alaska is the oil welfare state! Such a sweet and sour quagmire was
made possible through the generosity of three ultimate power U.S.
representatives. This state really receives only a pittance from the oil giants
who explore to exploit. I think that word pittance in reality means “pity”, and
probably of British origin. Our law shaking lawmakers respectfully earned a
name, the “Three Stooges”. But one opted to retire and gave the cushion senate
seat to his daughter. He then became the governor! Not only does this state win
the coveted “Pork King” award time after time, we usually win the “Hog” trophy.
We have bridges to nowhere, thanks to Uncle Sam. We have hi-tech rocket launch
facilities, with no rockets to launch, thanks to Uncle Sam. We have Cray
super-computers, whose main use seems to be that of maintaining brewing
recipes, for the local brew-masters club, once again courtesy of Uncle Sam.
Boston has the “Big Dig”, we have the “Big TED”. Such attributes indeed makes
for lively discussion about the 49th state. And with the long
Alaskan winters, lasting at least into the middle of May at the mildest of
climates, the coffee shops get their fair share of gossipers. The SHORT STACK
II, a follow-up collection of yet another 49 short stories from the Chinook
Journal of S. Pam MaGee, brings to light the uniqueness’ of Alaska, the “Last
Frontier” state! Oh, one more thing. This writing would not be possible without
the express primitive action made possible by our dueling banjo elected
representatives. Or something like that!
The SHORT STACK II Back to MAIN
Page
(Mouse Click Choice)
1) Ass Me
2) Patriotism – Running on Empty
4) Anchorage - No City Left
Behind!
9) Here We Go Round the Mobius
Strip
10) A Letter of Thanks to My Congressman
11) Another Sleazebag Lawyer Story
12) FEMA Fever
14) Junior Allen
15) Alaska, the Cry Baby State
18) Sunday
– Maybe the Lord’s Day
19) Seekin Communism
20) Scary Thought
21) Yammin!
22) RESPECT
24) A Mark Twain Day
25) EXTRA!
EXTRA! Read All About It
27) Double Dipping
28) SMUT Dealers
29) The Good, the Bad, the Ugly
30) News Media IQ
31) IFF
33) Jerk What?
34) Scouts
Dishonor
36) Job Interview
37) Comic Relief
39) Espresso Fix
40) Most Wanted
43) Got Blue?
44) Humiliation
45) Distemper
46) Pony Express, Alaskan Style
47) G-Men Latrines
49) Green SNOT
~ Ass Me ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Not
to break anybody’s ego, but I met a character the other day that was not
included in my repertoire of notable humans - of this century that is. Noble
human was not even a consideration. Maybe not even normal human was appropriate
for this character’s assassinating mentality. Character used to be reserved for
Mafioso type gentlemen. Guys that thought suits were appropriate for their
misfit dealings. Supposedly as a cover up – that well respected man about town
thing. This guy that stole away the attention of the day wore a suit, as if
important. I bet he is impotent. How could somebody be so un-happy? He looked
stool stuck! You could see it in his eyes - that Hitler like stare you down. I
met him on one of the nightly news broadcasts. I am glad this meeting took
place remotely while protected far and away in the security of my very own
think I own bank owned home. This scary creature spoke as if everybody knew who
he was, like he was God. I guess this guy ran for the presidency once upon a
time. That makes sense, they all think they are Godlike when they get to the
high alter of political corruption. He ran against Bob Dole for the republican
ticket. Dole called him “stupid”. This happened just the other day. This
name-calling, which seemed to be appropriate was not the only mud slung this
character’s way. It had to do with a comment that Pat Robertson made with
regards to wanting to murder another human. Now I don’t know how the law views
this, but can someone get away with this? Isn’t this action what really defines
terrorism? According to Webster, “Terrorism: an act that threatens, violence”.
Now if this goon or his cast of illegitimate followers were to succeed in
pulling something like this off, it could lead to a disruption in what peace
this world still holds on to. It was a call to jihad, Amereligious style, over
the airwaves. What happened to the FCC censorship? You know the airwaves are
monitored. Just ask Howard! And since Pat the brat - the latter is also found
under the definition for terror - has a following of stool stuck pigeons, one
of them could think that it is his obligation to pull off the assassination. In
hopes that he or she would be rewarded. Jihad it is! So many believe that the comment
was “crazy”. I don’t! I am challenging Mr. Robertson to fulfill his dreams to
kill another human. And I will avail myself to be his target. I offer my services for two reasons. First,
I don’t want a guy like this in heaven. I still believe that murder is a sin
punishable by time, both here and there! If this guy shows up in heaven, he
will spoil all the fun with life everlasting. He may try to assassinate
someone, in heaven! Secondly, if you are successful in your efforts as a hit
man, it would be premeditated murder. With that, the authorities can put you
away, hopefully forever. And I understand they have a cure for impotency in
jail. They turn your holiness into a hole-some-miss. How about that Patricia?
So, come and get me, you coward! PS: I don’t think you have to worry about
going to heaven? I know I will be there, so that counts you out! So go ahead,
kill away. Oh by the way. In Alaska we have the right to protect ourselves
against dangerous animals. Don’t come preaching at my door! Monkey see, monkey
do.
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Patriotism -
Running on Empty ~
From
the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
What
is up with these modern day checkout counters found at your local grocery
stores? I have discovered that these corralling exits - where you will leave
with a lot less money nowadays as oil is tipping the scale of ridiculousness -
these things are purposely designed to funnel one through the land of smut. I
would rather look at a Playboy magazine then be bombarded with the tabloid
stuff. Yes, the Hefner magazine has intelligent articles! Let’s see what is
happening today in Tabloid Land as I try to buy some toilet paper. Condy, Laura
and Dick having a wild party together in a hot tub. Bin Laden is seen at
Crawford, falling off a bike. Hilary picks Monica as VP running mate. Bill is
caught acting like a woman with a blue dress on. Talk about nightmare
instigating garbage. It is gross. But people in America believe in this stuff.
One research project found that people who read this stuff have a tendency to
base their political affiliation on the facts of fiction. And in Anchorage,
these readable by 7 outsell the local newspaper! After 7, it is fantasy reality
show time. What a way to have family time. Tabloids, pizza and reality TV! In
Anchorage, people know who Bo is and are puzzled when asked who Grant is. He
was Anchorage’s first Iraqi war casualty, now a hero. Of course, Alaska could
have its very own tabloid. Call it the FrankenStar, in honor of our now
governor ex-senator. He didn’t get anything named after his namesake when he
represented the citizens - I mean the oil industry. And our current
representatives are into this name that “pork” project after me game. They even
include the spouses. But it is not only tabloids that one is accosted by just
trying to get the “daily bread”. It is like passing through a urine stench
infested alleyway. Hey, retailers are smart. They know that kids pass this way
just as often as adults. So why not accost the kids. How? By packing candy in
the isle. Along with convenient advertisements that offer two for the price of
one. And kids are smart. They now mom is eyeballing the checker, to make sure
no rip-offs occur. “I remember that bar code. That’s not the right one!”
And did you realize that the checkers get coached on how not to check out too
fast. There is a time element that makes the tabloid isle a success. Some
stores give commissions to the checkers – on the sales of mind smut and tooth
rot. Now we are familiar with the tabloids and the candy, but what about the
communists infiltrating the lucrative market. Just the other day, as the
checker slowed down below a snails bowel movement - because she had two women
on the bait both totally engrossed with something of interest on a tabloid fact
sheet - the kids raided the candy stash. Well, “with no particular place to
go”, I saw something that caught my attention! Cheap cigarette lighters that
advertised “buy me” with words to the effect supporting patriotism – with the
red, the white, the blue and the “MADE IN CHINA”. Americans need a spanking and
a history lesson. That would sell good in the tabloids section – kinky
education! Maybe Frank will hire me. Hey, we missed the boat when the European
Union was making headway. As they were building a union, this country was
secretly outlawing concerted activity, something workers cherished in efforts
to ban together to make a decent wage and living. We live on a globe. It is a
global economy. So when supply and demand expanded capitalism as people went
wild to the west, so did competition. Now that same theory has taken on global
proportions. Back then we were good at anticipating our future. Now though?
Selfishness and greed have derailed our commitment and we now welcome
competition from abroad – with China. We like buying cheap stuff. They produce
the cheap stuff. But they need cheap oil to keep making the cheap stuff that
cheap Americans like to buy. So the supply and demand becomes the supply and be
damned. Things are not really cheap anymore. But with tabloid mentality, most
Americans find it hard to put the two things together. The individual pieces
makes for the whole theory doesn’t leak, it holds all the water! I believe a
disease is fraggle rock’n our brains. I used to go down to the Saturday city
market, right in downtown Anchorage. It was a place to have fun, visit friends
and enjoy our city. Now it has become “junk” city. Any tourist who spends a
penny here is foolish. I prefer to boycott the venders, as they know that they
are supporting China – which is still under communistic control. Things like
slave labor and unsanitary work conditions are part of the foreign leaderships
commitment to supply America. Remember when it used to be “Made in Japan”, well
now it is “Made in China”. The venders make money and it cost me money. In the
end, it costs me my freedom. But like the tabloids have to offer, we become
fools from foolishness. To read a tabloid doesn’t take an engagement of ones
gray matter. It is cheap entertainment, easy to digest. Goods made in China,
cheap, the price easy to digest. Guess again!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Getting Old? What a Drag ~
From
the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
What
a drag it is getting old! Mick Jaeger said so some 40 years ago. FORTY! And he
is still going. Keith is still going, like age has no effect on his ability to
turn out the B flats. I guess arthritis isn’t in the Liverpool gene pool! In
fact the stones just started touring again. But just the other day, I saw what
getting old is really all about. Now I am not in the spring chicken category
myself. And over the years, my eyesight has faded. Didn’t the Stones sing a song
about that also, something about not letting oneself fade away? Getting old!
But not fading away! Maybe the Stones have found that fountain of youth. My
hearing level is a little off, but has been for forty years. Ever since I
passed out in the back of a speaker cabinet blurring away Led Zeppelin at some
ungodly wattage. It was the Boon’s Farm that did it - pure formaldehyde. Maybe
that is why the Joplin generation is living longer. Isn’t the “hyde” used as a
mummifying agent? Maybe Keith’s secret is out! Anyway, I was entertaining
myself at the local Starbucks in downtown Anchorage. Now being outdoors meant
it was summertime and tourist season. With that in mind, this time of year
brings hordes of pests. Some think I am talking about mosquitoes. Wrong! Hey,
tourists are fun to watch. Some people save a lifetime to make that once in a
lifetime trip to the “Last Frontier” state. And in order to save up enough, it
usually means many visitors are up there in age. Hey with the cost of things
around here, a senior discount is worth the wait. You can tell who the elderly
tourists are. Just the way they wear their clothes. You know what I am talking
about, receding hairlines and elevated waste-lines. Must be colorblind to. Not
really, their dress was the passion-fashion at one time. Forty years ago? And
if that is not enough, the inch-thick reading glasses are surely a give-away.
When they look at you directly, it looks like the return of the Cyclops!
Anyway, I noticed this one guy that was determined not to give into the age
thing. His dress code was a little different. Elevated waste-line but sagging
pants – bubba style. And it was his traveling groupies that gave the real age
away – all had coke bottles, but still tripped over the inebriates crowding the
downtown sidewalks. Hey, I gave this guy credit, to be different. But then he
stopped, and tried to read a map with a magnifying glass. This thing was
conveniently placed in his back pocket. So what, no big deal. Pretty innovative
to say the least. Maybe that is the way to go. Wouldn’t have to worry about
misplacing one’s glasses! I could see that a shallow argument erupted amongst
the group on which way was the right way to go. Maps are good as long as one
situates the origin correctly. So this went on for a few minutes. Remember,
guys will never ask for directions, even if they are in Alaska. They all know
that north is towards the mountains! But then something happened. I heard his
partner start to yell and commotion followed. Flames were dancing from the map.
It was an unusual day in Anchorage. Rarely do we reach 60 degrees on the scale.
But it had been an unusual summer, and this day was no different with
temperatures into the 90s. Saw a bumper sticker, “Alaskans for Global Warming”.
Well guess what, the magnifying glass and its tendency to focus light ignited
the map! Anyway, several people came to the aid of the guy with the flaming
map. But the commotion was allowing him to swing the magnifying glass around,
scaring the dickens out of everybody. He carried one powerful glass! It didn’t
bruise his ego at all. In fact, he continued to use the map, knocking the
cindered portions away with the aid of his glass. Multi-purpose device I guess.
And it seems he did figure out the correct way to go, maybe it had something to
do with the fumes. Hey, here is another thing about getting old. I once got in
a predicament when I asked an elderly lady about her husband. It was at a Fred
Astaire dance lesson. One would think that a couple together at the golden old
age meant a long-term relationship. She told me it was her “boyfriend”. Well
excuse me. It was a neat thing to see! So getting old, take your pick, coke
bottles or a magnifying glass. Now here in Alaska, the mag may come in handy,
for survival!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Anchorage - No
City Left Behind! ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
No
child left behind! And by now there exists a hundred zillion different ways to
skew the grade so that this program can’t help but succeed. Hey, do it or loose
it. Federal funding that is. And schools cannot operate without welfare. So how
do we test the parents of the children to make sure the ideals of this mission
are embedded in the family value system? Mission, isn’t that a religious term?
And to use it here may be a derailment of my constitutional duties to separate
church from state. Or is it state from church? Doesn’t matter, as there exists
an umbilical cord between the two entities. And regardless of how fragmented
family time has become, even with some semblance of unity, what we learn at
home is perpetuated into society. So parents should be tested. Well up here
north in Anchorage, Alaska, there is such a test for adults. One that stands
the muster fluster. By George, take note! We have dogs, and lots of the canine
companions. It is estimated that there exists a dog population equal to the
human population. And with that many animals, dog walkers have the duty to
cleanup after their best of friends. Municipality law requires pet owners to
“scooooop it” when out and about the miles and miles of city trails. We spend a
lot of money on trails here in Alaska. It is a political campaign issue of
interest. Trails, on the average, cost about a million dollars a mile to
construct – the same as roads! But that is OK, as it also follows the do it or
loose it welfare slogan. Uncle Sam, I mean Uncle Ted, hands out money not only
to research the penis size of the Musk Ox, but also for asphalt. And most of
the trail-heads provide these neat little scoop devices, for free, so there is
no excuse that one was not prepared for latrine duty on the run. Any way, some
pet owners frown at these things, as sometimes it gets a little messy. So they
come prepared, as the plastic bag that the newspaper arrives in makes for a
shit bag and surgical glove, all in one! And the length of the bag is assurance
that no shit will splatter the ego. Anyway, one just sticks an arm with hand
into the bag, picks up the deposit, reverses the bag, and viola, the poop is
clean hand scooped. In fact, these re-used bags are preferred. Now, that
doesn’t represent the test finale. It is good news that most pet owners abide
by the law of the shat upon land. The real test is in the next step. And that
is where the failure rate for no adult left behind is staggering. These bags,
which cannot be missed and represent an eyesore, are florescent orange. So the
majority goes through the motion to scoop - as a derailment of such could bring
a $10 fine - then they deposit the bag on the trail? Now it is littering, which
can bring a $500.00 fine. Remember, trails cost the same as roads, so it would
go to say that the fines for littering would be the same. Another thing, who do
these flunkies think will remove the bag? So how do we get through this
dilemma? We can’t. It is a sick mindset behavior. That same behavior appears in
the family room and works its way into society, by our children. But there is a
temporary solution to the adult dilemma. Call your newspaper and request that
the next batch of plastic bags for protecting the paper comes in seasonal
colors. White would go well with winter, and camouflaged, hey we got the
problem licked! Now the tests for no adult left behind follow the skewed trail,
and in-line with the out of sight out of mind reality of no child left behind,
when in reality we are just fooling ourselves. Hey, we can’t fool all the
people all the time. Oh and about this one paper town. About the only thing
good about this skewed news waste of paper is a prop to aid shoving the shit in
the bag. So what we find at our doorstep each morning is the ultimate “poop
scoop”. Hey, a note before leaving. I once ran across an individual walking his
dog along the trail. He was busy smoking a pipe instead of policing his dog’s
doodoo. Now when I see a pipe smoker in this day and age, it means beware. This
guy was a professor at the local university. Of course he had a theory as to
why he was derelict at his municipal duty. I really didn’t care. But a simple
answer like “being lazy” turned into a full-blown dissertation. It went like
this. He had a belief that if everybody abided by the law to pick up dog
doodoo, the next thing that would come our way is an extension to the law, to
police a dog’s urine habit. Which he thought meant diapers. And if dogs stop
“marking” territory, it means they wouldn’t want to go on walks. So the obesity
problem would get even worse then it is now. Dogs would get obese along with
their owners. Maybe he had a point! I should have asked his take on the
“Daily”. To get a “pigskin” review!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Coffee Shop Blues ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
As a
writer, hanging out at a coffee shop can entice the spirit of the pen.
Different café settings provide different stimulants, besides the caffeine.
Sometimes it is the crowd, the regulars. Maybe it is the time of day that
invites an interest to write something down about a particular hangout or
event. Now this one favorite shop in downtown Anchorage engages my interest in
the blues. Not the music, but the painted curbside reserved for the
“handicapped”. From inside, this place offers a bird’s eye view of such an area
right across the street. It is well known that this affirmative action
preferred parking area is abused just as much as Alaskan senators abuse the
U.S. Treasury Department. Honestly, the shoe fits so wear it. Some states have
alcoholic senators, in Alaska we have porkoholic and nepoholic senators. Along
with a Congressman that thinks he is a Billy goat! He’s the guy that believes
the highway to heaven is missing some bridges. People keep giving him a bad
time about building bridges to nowhere! Maybe he had a vision! Anyway, there
was a mini-van parked legally in the “blue” zone. Soon the vehicle’s occupants
showed up. The entourage included an obese driver and four over obese
passengers. It was comical watching them try to pack into the back seat and back,
back seat. Looked more like a circus act. Remember the “Fat Lady”? Used to
scare the hell out of us when we were kids and the circus was in town. But that
act is a thing of the past. Why? Just look around! It’s free entertainment now.
Besides comical, this act was at the same time gross, as one guy’s pants went
low enough to give the coffee shop’s clientele the “plumbers crack”. There is
one heating outfit here in Anchorage that guarantees customers will never have
to complain about the “crack”. Anyway, as the over-weight clowns packed into
the van, you could see the tires start to deflate – almost to the pancake
stage. Now there was only one identifiable handicap, that of over-eating. This
group wasn’t rightfully defined as handicapped, but because they are forced fed
by the fast food industry, they feel it is their right to violate
reasonableness. Soon, the lopsided van drove off. My guess was that the GVW was
exceeded. I am sure that energy efficiency was a joke. And didn’t the president
just ask everybody to conserve? Man, can you imagine if one of the occupants
blows gas? It could be a dangerous situation. Hey, there is one and only one
thing that gains respect from this guy for our current president. He stays in
shape. Now as soon as the space was vacated, up drives a brand spanking new
Mercedes Benz. With tinted windows, it was hard to see what kind of handicap
was lurking inside. Now with this uppity-up vehicle, one would think some
semblance of dignity would thwart fraudulent activities by its owner – like
fake handicaps. Soon the occupants exited the vehicle now idled at the
convenient curbside parking space. A husband, a wife and two children. They
looked fine as they made a beeline into the coffee shop. I was parked about
three blocks away, at a dollar an hour dirt lot that had enough puddles that it
could second as a military obstacle course. They were on the freebie. About the
only distinguishable handicap, was broken English. Maybe that was it. Some
would feel at ease to use that excuse for a handicap permit. Now I noticed
another vehicle trying to fit into the leftover room behind the Hitler-Mobile.
There existed enough room for two full sized vehicles at this curb. But Mr.
Mercedes didn’t want anybody encroaching on his fringe benefit, so his pride
and joy was strategically parked as to block any other advancement from a
fellow man or woman in need. The person trying to fit in finally gave up hope
and soon found a place about a block up the street. Metered parking isn’t
cheap! Now this individual was definitely handicapped – the cane and the
crocked walk was an easy giveaway. And her passenger had one of those
“walkers”. But all the time as they struggled to get out of the vehicle with
traffic all around, they walked away with a smile. It looked as though they
were having fun being the underprivileged for a change. I didn’t see a smile on
any of the Mercedes’ family members. And about the only smile from the van
occupants, was that mile long smile from behind. Smiles are as American as
apple pie. Some people don’t deserve to enjoy a smile, or be considered true
Americans by ripping off their fellow men and women, or the U.S. Treasury!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Italian Stallion
Scale ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
OK,
explain to me what a “slug” is? Now no child left behind will define a “slug”
as a slimy worm-like creature that shows up on the driveway with the morning
dew. But the “slug” is what America uses as its official unit of mass! It is
defined as a mass that accelerates by 1-foot per second squared when a force of
one pound is exerted upon it, that’s a mouthful. This thing violates the apples
and oranges don’t mix theory. Does anybody really understand this
ménage-a-trois? The slug makes up the fundamental unit for our system of
measurement referred to as the FPS system. In this case of length and mass and
time it is respectively the foot, the pound and the second. Systems of
measurement are revered just like a good stout. A system of measurement forms
the pyramid on which things, like beer, are rated for quality, quantity and
queasiness. Now, for the longest time during the 70’s and 80’s, there existed a
push on to change this country’s unit of measurement - the FPS - to that of the
more meaningful CGS system, used in the other world. The unfamiliar CGS system
represents the three almighties as the centimeter, the gram and the second. So
what gives you say? A foot versus a centimeter, hey no big deal, so why change.
The second is a second is a second! Now our system doesn’t directly define the
unit of mass. In the CGS, a gram is mass. A pound isn’t mass, the slug is! So
what gives? I heard you. Just the other
day on an urge, I went shopping for some pasta. Now every so often, when the
wallet allows, I like to purchase some good stuff. It comes in all different
shapes, colors and additions to nutrition. Take the black pasta. It is made
from squid ink. Can you imagine “milking” a squid? It is so good with fresh
Alaskan clams and a few sun dried tomatoes. But beware the next morning when
party time calls. Then there is the red stuff, pasta made from beet juice.
Again, beware the next morning when depositing your rewards - I mean regards -
over to Pennsylvania Avenue. Now Italians know how to chow. For some reason, an
American pound of pasta seems to be a few mouthfuls shy of satisfaction – for a
party of two. The imported pasta that I cooked the other night wasn’t shy on
satisfaction. So an investigation allowed the following consensus. Since
Americans use the “slug” method to account for mass, the conversion to weight
amounts to a pound of pasta, it means 454 grams. Italians don’t like “slugs”.
They use the g-force thing. And to make merchandizing simple, 500 grams is an
even-Steven amount of pasta for a sale. Yes indeed, it is about 50 grams more
then an American bag of pasta. Mathematicians calculate that as an extra
whooping 10 percent. Just enough to tip the palette of satisfaction. So maybe
it is time to rekindle an interest in changing to a more satisfying system of
measurements. Hey, I bet Lisa could help me! Just the other day, a guy named
Aquino was upset because he wasn’t allowed to participate in American Idol – as
Alaska’s hopeful. He went right to Uncle Ted, our senior senile senator, to get
this unfair change in the Idol’s rules of participation changed back. As if our
representatives don’t have anything better to do. I don’t think they do, so
maybe this guy can get some action. I mean a guy from Alaska as the American
Idol could take us off the map. Maybe back to territory status. So that is why
I chose Lisa to help me in my efforts to get more pasta in that bag. She is the
newest member of Alaska’s confrontational delegation. But the best thing about
involving Lisa? She owns a pasta factory. Just think, by implementing the g-force over the slug, it means more
pasta sales. It means more profits per bag. Hey, an offer she can’t refuse. And
I don’t know anybody who would object to a little more pasta in that serving!
Hey “Slug Me”, sounds like a great campaign slogan. My daughter works at an
up-scale eatery in Downtown Anchorage. Just the other day, a customer asked
her, “What are sun dried tomatoes?” Slugs are slow!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Educational
Electives ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Signs
indicative of fall don’t necessarily mean Jack Frost has arrived. I do enjoy
getting out on the trails around Anchorage to watch as the leaves and fauna
engages the color spectrum kaleidoscope, but there is another thing that shows
up this time of year that deserves ink on paper dissecting. It is the time of
year when we hear the grunts from runts decked out in gigantic shoulder pads
and protective crotch cups to cheer on the mini-skirted pom-pom squad. Fall has
fallen upon us. I didn’t know George “WMD” Bush was a cheerleader? Is that how
he made it into Yale! Mission impossible accomplished. Now there is a multiuse
track and field facility just up the road from where I live. It is part of the
high school. It is a pretty new layout, and I am sure it meets the criteria for
being a candidate of the million-dollar a mile club. See here in Alaska,
everything costs at least a million dollars. Roads cost a million bucks per
mile. Bridges to nowhere costs ten times that amount, it still qualifies for
the club. Trails cost a million-dollars a mile. As far as the track facility,
well with 8 oval lanes lasting at least an eighth of a mile from start to
finish, it means a mile long track. Now sandwiched in between the oval, a
football field. It is the practice field for the high school team. While out
and about over the last several weeks, I have noticed more and more trash
accumulation at the downwind side of the track. It is a fenced enclosed
facility, so it has the tendency to trap the trash. That is good. Now the
evidence remains as to who owns the trash. Plastic Gatorade bottles, McDonald’s
fast food junk containers, stuff after school activity participants survive on.
So someday soon, before the end of the football season, which lasts about two
weeks here in Alaska, I hope to see some GI Joe coach commanding trash duty for
his team. Football has to be the most ridiculous waste of money here in Alaska.
Hey, this is ice hockey country. Spend the money promoting Bobby Orr and Phil
Esposito like talent. I used to be a Boston Bruin fan. Anyway, after the season
was well finished and the school year had commenced, the trash remained. And with
termination dust creeping down the mountain, it meant a snowfall any day now.
That would cover up the trash! So I called the school to lodge a complaint.
Here is the scoop! The school administration can’t have the football players
pick up the trash. To do so could bring about a lawsuit. See, this is the
school that caters to the rich folks’ sons and daughters. Now rich most likely
means a lawyer or the means to support a lawyer. So paranoia over lawsuits from
kids too damn lazy to police their own litter habits allows trash city to
inundate the land. What about the local grounds keeper once called janitor?
Well, it used to be part of his job. But it is not in his union contract. But
the school administration has a solution. Football, cheer leading, most of
these sports are considered educational electives. Such electives are important
these days when one is applying for college. So for the non-sport student,
other electives are designed to fulfill the requirements. One in particular is
environmental recycling. That was the plan. Instruct the students who selected
this elective to clean up the grounds. Hey, that was all right I guess. At
least somebody cared. Lucky me! I just happened to be passing by the field on
the day that the “Environmental Recycle” class was on the trash detail. Then I
realized just how outclassed our society has become. This solution was a lame
excuse fostered through a pansy principle policy. It was a bastard of a day.
Snow mixed with sleet mixed with rain accompanied by some pretty stiff like
“Chinook” winds. “Not fit for man nor beast”. The trash detail students had
ponchos on to keep them somewhat warm and dry. I moved closer to the fence.
Didn’t see any football players here. No cheer leaders either. But low and
behold, a Down’s Syndrome student busily collecting somebody else’s trash. Then
another Down’s Syndrome student, hard at work. Another disabled student wheel
chair bound trying his best to help out. And they didn’t have protected gloves
on. I watched as they picked up the trash. What was that cloth like thing with
the red tint? Probably an injury bandage. Those rubber things aren’t party
balloons. Wow, what a solution to a problem. These kids really have a chance at
an ivy league school education. Better get those electives while they last! How
can something like this happen in this day and age. Bottom line, if the
football jocks can’t take the time to clean up instead of leaving it for their
fellow man, this sport doesn’t deserve elective status but electrocution
status. Ban it, so what if these kids then have to work a little harder to get
into the college of choice. And they pay principles to come up with solutions
like this? It follows that out of sight out of mind mentality. Sure,
“Environmental Recycling” sounds good. But why should these kids have to pick
up others students’ trash. This type of atrocity would not happen in the good
old days. But then again, in the good old days a guy like Bush would be picking
up trash for a living!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Dimension This! ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
So,
according to that public radio station that used to be funded by the hard
working people of this country, scientists are searching for another dimension.
And if we’re talking government folk, those that work for NASA or one of the
many other departments that likes to defy accountability, then we are probably
talking taxpayers’ funded research. If you want, I will give you my definition
of the “black hole”. The “black hole” is caused by the “slack role” our
government maintains with respect to ethical spending. To bad that research
money couldn’t go to the public radio network. Not to soften the funding drive
burden on the common folk, but in efforts to send the “big players” packing.
What I mean is, taking back what was the “last” individual democratic process.
For awhile, my vote was on the same playing field as the “voice” of true Americans,
but the supremacy court stole that away from us. Supremacy? Doesn’t that have
something to do with Communism? Or is it the KKK? At one time, my money and
your money went to support a communications media that told it like it was, the
truth. Now though, every damn station break gets one advertisement. The message
doesn’t take up the entire time slot, it’s the advertiser’s name. Some of these
law firms have a hundred names, all claiming LLC. I started placing LLC upon
all of my correspondences, for Limited Liability Citizen. How can a law firm
claim Limited Liability? Anyway, when lawyers are paying for something, they
have control of that something. Don’t get fooled by their “Righteous Citizen”
bull-crap. Hey, I just found another good definition for a senator. It follows
from Webster’s. Barnacle: …with appendages for gathering food(tax)…and
permanently affixed to rocks or objects(Hall of Congress) as adults. Of course,
that could also hold true for lawyers. They indeed have appendages for
gathering everything that meets their fancy, and most of them are permanently
affixed to a judge’s ass. Back to the dimension at issue. Pretty stupid
spending money to find other dimensions. Don’t scientists have better things to
do with their time and my paid for time? Hey, Timothy Leary found all kinds of
dimensions, and all it required was some mushrooms! In fact, the entire space
program is a big rip-off. Hey, when we fix all the social problems down here on
the earth Mother, then you can go up there. I don’t know how to easily define
one dimension. Now two dimension, well senators define that with ease. With an
X measure and a Y measure and no width, they can slip through just about any
predicament. Now let me help the scientist out. From the dual dimension we skip
to the Extra Large dimension. See, obese people have a few extra dimensions!
Think about it, they defy gravity! And they can put away junk food faster then
the speed of light. How can they move around by not disturbing the laws of
physics? So look no further in your pursuit. And the poor people of this nation
and around the world, hey with “my belly full but me hungry”, that has to
define the single dimension. With one dimension, it means no way, no freedom,
no future. Instead of “Super Size Me”, how about “One Dimensionless Me”. Think
about it, what did Marley actually mean when he sang that song. “My belly full,
but me hungry”! So search no further, all the answers are here on earth
Mother. Look around you this day,
you’ll see what I mean. And with obesity on the edge of a pandemic, one can see
that it definitely affects all dimensions. Hey, the blue curbs seem to be
expanding exponentially. Why, because obese people think they are handicapped.
Yes indeed, obesity has hit an all time high of non-deflate proportion. I
understand that George wanted to say something about unhealthy America, but
Dick shoved a “Big Mac” in front of him. It acts like a repellant, just like
garlic scares away the vampires. Now Dick, he defines another dimension. He has
more lives then a cat! How many ticker replacements has he gone through? I am
sure it has an effect on the deficit, operating on the vice has to be costly.
So there is no need to waste money on something we don’t understand. What good
would an understanding of multiple dimensions do for existing social problems?
Come back down to earth, this dimension is shrinking! How much space to you
require?
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Here We Go Round the Mobius
Strip ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
My
daughter asked me to explain the tax system to her. First off, I told her that
the jury was still out of whack on whether or not corporations and rich people
actually pay their fair share of taxes. Then I told her the system was fair.
She was a little confused. I told her that a majority of Americans cheat on
their yearly tax returns. Come on now. Was that donation really worth the
write-off? It is that little panacea that lets us think we are one up on the
Fed.’s. That action providing fairness with respect to the inequities. But
Uncle Sam is three up on us, get to that in a moment. My daughter, who is a
college graduate, is convinced that home economics should be re-instated as a
requirement in grade school. As part of that “no child left behind” gig. Then
we would understand just how our economy is thieved away by our
representatives, for back pocket “pork” padding. She can’t understand how the
president can send young kids off to war and pay them poverty wages. So you’ll
never see economics re-instated. Why? We would have a bunch of senators left
behind, in the pig shit. Anyway, here is how the tax system really works. I go
to work and make a dollar. That dollar is taxed as personal income, lets say 20
percent. Uncle Sam receives 20 cents on my dollar, so congress can give
themselves an undeserved raise. Now the remainder is used to support my family.
So lets say I spend 80 cents for groceries. Now it is well known that a
business exhausts in the neighborhood of 65 percent of its intake on employee
wages. So from that 80 cents of gross profit, 52 cents goes to wages. Uncle Sam
gets another 20 percent from the grocery store worker, or an additional 10.4
cents, as it is also considered taxable income. All total, thus far the
treasury has collected 30.4 cents. Remember, we started with “my” hard earned
dollar. Now the grocery workers and their families also have to eat, so they
spend what’s leftover for groceries, which amounts to 27 cents, which again follows
the net profit and wage earners scenario. It amounts to another 1.4 cents for
the treasury, the total taxes collected on that one dollar equates now to about
36 cents. Then my daughter asked, “Isn’t that double taxation?” Wow, she was on
to something. So I hit the Excel calculation program. Now this is where our
government blows it. Workers will spend all of their disposable income. That
income, following the above chain of custody, will continue to provide income
for Uncle Sam. That $1 dollar, by the time it makes its way through the
economy, it has made the treasury richer by 42 cents. So know wonder rich
people don’t have to pay taxes, or for that matter corporations. We the people,
the hard working true grit Americans, we are paving the way that allows the
haves to take advantage of the have-nots. What’s interesting, as wages go
higher, so does Uncle Sam’s intake. Maybe that is the reason that “minimum
wage” is just nothing. Hey, if all corporations made us work at minimum wage,
what else could we do, take it or leave it. And if so, the treasury would loose
money theft and right. Well guess what, then maybe the rich people and the
corporations would for once have to pay to play. So maybe the minimum wage
thing is not that bad after all. Next time I go for a job, where the
application asks for the desired salary, I am going to write down WMD, Wage
Minimum Desired. The conclusion, the existing tax structure follows a Mobius
Strip mentality. We are all on the same page when it comes to government services.
Accept when the taxman cometh, the rich and corporations are fortunate enough
to be on the other side, it is the same side, just out of sight. They know
where the “Mobius Loop” hole exists. Bottom line, we should all pay our own
way. We should feel good about paying taxes, for things that better mankind. It
would make for a better America if I knew that I paid the same amount of taxes
as say, Bill Gates! Let me rephrase that. If he paid the same amount of taxes
as this hard working American! Confused? See, rich people can only spend so
much. So their riches held back from the real economy in actuality stagnates
the economy. All of my earnings go into the economy. And like the example
above, somebody makes a wage on my habits and in turn government gets greased.
The needs of the rich are not that different, a house, a second house, a third
house. But compared to the money some of them make, they have a whole bunch
left over. So their money is squandered away. It doesn’t do any good. That’s
why the estate tax referendum is another rich bastard sin. We need that money
to keep the economy buoyant. Give yourself a pat on the back if you are an
hourly worker. It is you that defines a true American. Hey, can you imagine if
all hourly workers joined a union? The same union! Not one that was stingy on
membership following party affiliation, or for that matter religious
affiliation. Just a union where we could all find one and only one common
ground put aside all the other garbage, based on the “wage”. The wage is the seed,
for life liberty and the pursuit of happiness. It would scare the hell out of
the government. Lets do it!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ A Letter of Thanks to My Congressman ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Dear
Honorable Congressman Billy Goat;
Recently
I was laid off from a job in Anchorage. Along with about 20 other crafts
people, good people. True Americans! I had been gainfully employed for about 32
years, about the same amount of time you have been in congress. Now over the
past ten years, I have been subject to a smaller and smaller paycheck. My
salary as an hourly worker has dropped over 20 percent in the last 4-years.
That hurts when you still have kids in college. Is it true that your own salary
has increased by 17-thousand dollars in comparison? Let me in on a little
secret. How did you get your boss to give you such a raise? I have tried
everything. Well almost everything, accept kissing his ass. My performance
appraisals were phenomenal with 4’s and 5’s. Which means “exceeds” and “far
exceeds” standards. But the belt tightening doesn’t allow even a 50 cent an
hour raise. Another thing, this is the first time that this American has signed
up to collect unemployment. There must be a mistake somewhere along the line.
The calculations for what the payout authorities believe it takes to feed a
family is way off base. It means my weekly take home has dropped by 80 percent
and I still have to pay an income tax! What would you collect if you had to go
in the unemployment line? It is poverty income. With house payments and
insurance payments and food bills and pet bills, it looks like I will have to
give up something. For now, keeping the car parked in the driveway is the best
bet, especially with gasoline price gouging in effect and approved by somebody
that doesn’t care if America is being strangled. Is that oversight what you get
paid for? But I have to look for a job, it takes wheels. I wonder what kind of
fine it is for driving around with no insurance and expired tags? Now my
position was cut because somebody high up in government insisted that the
government had to get more energy efficient. No real problem with that, except
something isn’t right with this picture. To comply, first on the agenda it
meant privatized housing for the military families stationed here in Alaska. So
with that, centralized heating went away, so did my job. See, I worked at the
power plant over at the Air Force base. Now heating needs don’t go away, nor
does electrical needs, not up here in the north. So somebody has to heat the
troops. And somebody has to provide power to light the runway. As we speak, a
wrecking ball is moving into place to demolish the power plant. Now what is
strange about all of this is the fact that if one were to read the government’s
mandate on energy efficiency, changing to natural gas was one of the things
required in the program. Hey, the plant that I worked at switched over to
natural gas some 25-years ago, so we were indeed ahead of our times. It was a
highly efficient plant that met and exceeded the new requirements. So the
shutdown had to be for another reason. Oh yes, it looks like a senator had
something to do with stealing a chunk of land away from the government so his
BF buddy could build houses the troops couldn’t afford, so the government had
to subsidize it all. If you don’t know to whom I am talking about, my kid’s
picture dictionary has his mug-shot under “thief”. I believe he had his hands
in the cookie jar, until the door was closed. But a back door not closed is
what? Ajar. So it still smells rotten to the core. I could go on, but why waste
your time. At $90 dollars an hour, your time is valuable. For myself and
unemployed, I guess I could look for work. But it has been several months now,
and my credit rating has crashed. Many companies look at that rating for
potential future employees. So as you enjoy the primmest of steaks, my family
will try to get by on hamburger helper. Wrong, no hamburger tonight! It is sad,
when on your watch, nothing has been done for poverty, it still exists. Not
only for the poor, but for the working class, once heroes. It took many years
and wars fought by our fathers to make this a great country, your job was to
secure it for the future. As far as I am concerned, your legacy will not be as
an individual who likes to build bridges to nowhere, but party to the most
corrupt political era ever, along with Tom and Bill. Thanks for not helping out
where you should have been helping. America bleeds more then ever with your
actions or maybe because of your inactions. Sounds more like an act of
terrorism them representation. Hey, is it true that there are “rabid skunks”
running around the Hall’s of Congress? You all from Alaska, bait and trap them
critters. Maybe you can get your senate friend to get a grant to hire his son
to exterminate the nuisances. Tom was an exterminator. Name calling! Shame on
you. But ethics was flushed down the toilet by felons you befriended. Let me
take that back. Punks, seems a better word. Hey, Robert Fulghum said “we
learned it all in kindergarten”: Share everything, Play fair, Say you’re
sorry when you hurt someone. When you go out into the world, watch for traffic,
hold hands, and stick together. But maybe all representatives were left
behind with regards to “No Child” left behind. Behind corruption that is! Hey,
send me your autograph. I understand that the Hall of Fame for Thieves, funded
by taxpayer money, is about to open up. Maybe I can pawn the goods, so my
family can have some hamburger with the helper!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Another Sleazebag
Lawyer Story ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
I had
the opportunity to chauffeur my daughter to her downtown job. Not that she was
afraid of driving in a place that has just as many fender benders when the
pavement is dry as when it is covered with “black” ice, it was because parking
is a problem. Unless you have a pretty hefty allowance for incidentals. But
with the price of motor gas making oil companies wealthier and wealthier with
the “people’s” resources, nothing is left over for the meter. So it allowed a
good time to “people” watch. Now over a couple of days, I observed this one
particular woman as I waited for my daughter to finish her shift. I was parked
legally in the “Passenger Pick-up/Loading Zone” area. This was a free parking
zone. But the requirements went like this. For passenger pick-up, the driver
must remain in the car and the car must be running. For freight loading, a
legitimate reason, like critical deliveries for the downtown businesses. Now
each day, she would pull up in her fancy Volvo. Vehicle preference sometimes
gives all the fun away on a person’s character. Anyway, she would vacate the
vehicle in the zone and walk into the building that was sort of like a mall,
but small in comparison to how most would define these places used for weekend
family getaways. Now the entry door followed a hall that went by a restaurant
and a gift store then out to an alleyway. From the ally, it was a straight shot
to the Star Bucks. And that is what she was doing. It was basically a violation
of the law for her latte fix. Now she would be gone for at least 5-minutes. And
each time, a truck with deliveries would pull up with no place to park. Hey, I
was legal, so I wasn’t moving. The parking violation upset more then one burly
looking truck driver. Soon she would return and have no idea what kind of inconveniences
her action had caused. Should say her laziness. No, should say her sleaziness.
One day, I was in the coffee shop. Now I had to meter park, as I am a righteous
citizen and believe in obeying the law. I am 55 years of age and can boast that
I have not one citation or other law-breaking episode under my good name. I am
a true blue law-abiding citizen! Well come to find out, Miss Lawbreaker is a
lawyer. Damn, should have known. Actually, that thought did cross my mind. Now
here is where the dilemma comes in. She finds it no problem to break the law.
Hey, it is a simple law, but still it is not right. And she feels compelled to
do it because she can get away with defending her actions with something she
probably learned in law school – being sneaky! It gets down to the nuts and
bolts of the legal system. It has nothing to do with justice. If a lawyer or
law firm can use tactics to get away with something, that is what they call
justice, winning. So when you hear the word justice, remember, it is just a cover-up
for the truth, winning counts above anything else. Even if it hurts your
fellowmen or women. Hey, it is so true, that saying, “Somebody’s gain is
another man’s loss”! Accept when it comes to ethics, we all loose and thou
colors do bleed.
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ FEMA Fever ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
My
neighbor freaked out the rest of the neighborhood this summer, by setting out a
toilet in her front yard. I thought it was proper. We see street people
everywhere around Anchorage now, even in the foothills. The attraction comes
from Fred’s, just down the road. So after a day panhandling and dumpster
rummaging, why take a free bus ride back down to the shelter, it gets crowded
there. Besides, the buses stop at 9 pm. Freddy stays open until 11. And with
the remnants of cardboard boxes left outback of this Americonsumer icon, as if
being donated to a good cause, man it’s home on the range, I mean “tundra”. Did
you ever see some of the shelters these brothers and sisters fabricate with a
little recycled cardboard and ingenuity? Hey, these humans survive everyday in
a world that is by far foreign for most of us. And it happens day in and day
out right here in front of us! From California to the New York Islands, as
Woody would sing. Because it continues as a plague on this nation, it is
testament that your senators and congressmen are blind. Now there’s an icon!
Woody envisioned the problems that would strangle this nation many, many years
ago. Why haven’t we entrusted his philosophical views? Getting back to the
cardboard. This stuff is pretty good these days, considering it is used to ship
things all over the place. Structurally, it is better then wood. And with that
zigzag inner layer, it provides sound-proofing. Hey, street people, or
homeless, they enjoy sex! Getting back to the toilet. It is amazing how one can
get off on a tangent. Of course, every senator knows that direction very well
when controversies arise. My new Webster’s is missing a word - ethics. Anyway,
the toilet may act as a deterrent against urine stenched back stairwells. But
that wasn’t really what it was meant for. My neighbor used it as a planter. She
painted it blue and her young son added some graffiti that rang out, “SMILE”.
Over the summer, a giant sunflower found the fertile soil and security of the
porcelain latrine just too tempting to stay a seed forever. It was a pretty
neat display. But vandals, probably a night-stalking neighbor transplanted form
Sugar Land, had a Tom Delay vision. Sugar Land is in Texas. Some oil roughnecks
up north call it the land of the “sweet” bitches. Did you know that Delay
started his political career as an exterminator? Alaska’s all alone congressman
started out as a riverboat captain. Then something happened, he turned into a
Billy Goat. But the “pot cometh tumbling down”. Anyway, I asked her if
homeowners insurance would cover the damage? She hadn’t thought about it. Now
we have some pretty severe winds here in Anchorage. Some say its natural. I
think it is blow-off from blowhard senators. Anyway, why not ask FEMA for help.
It is my understanding that if one seeks FEMA assistance, delivery of funds
depends upon how one requests the help and what the state minority situation is
like. The more minorities, the less of a handout. It has to do with
appropriations. See, at one time Indians were not taxed. So taxpayer money
could not go to states to help out non-taxpayers. And according to “America’s
Most Wanted”, those guys that play out info-commercial professionals at the
early morning hours on the major broadcast stations and tell you how to cheat
Uncle Sam, well I was informed that if you make the request confusing enough,
it will get through the processing end of things really quick. So instead of
asking for a toilet, ask for a senate soup bowl. I guess FEMA is busy in Texas.
Then they have to go to Florida. Then, it will be time for a Christmas break.
Then after the holidays, they have to go back to Texas, as the minority status
has changed, at least until election time comes around and Tom the devil awakes
to disenfranchise the election process. So when will they get to New Orleans? I
bet I can get a replacement toilet before most of those “southern” folk find a real
pot to piss in! Oh what a relief.
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ His or Her Discrimination
~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
I got
one for ya! I live in a small sized house. So my wife is always looking for
ways to defy gravity or spacity in efforts to closet her clothes. I own more
blue work coveralls then suits. Actually, take the plural away from the suits.
Then you know the extent of my get dressed up assets. In fact, I don’t think
that suit fits me anymore. Last time I tried it out was at my wedding, some
eons ago. How long is an eon? Anyway, when the available closet space was
packed enough so that the next article of clothing removed would provide
present day scientist with a real “big bang”, my wife decided to buy some
fixtures to hang clothes, outside the closet space. This occurred right after
the Supreme Court ruled on the eminent domain thing. Whereas a rich person can
take away the property of a not so rich person. As long as it benefits society
and the rich person can get richer, which means that the not so rich person is
headed for the homeless shelter. So I guess moving outside the closet fits, as
I was also a beneficiary. Now this decorative fixture arrives, one for “His”,
the other for “Her”. And of course, unless one wants to hire a general
contractor to fix that 2-foot diameter hole in the plaster-board once a wife
gets finished trying to hang anything, give me the hammer please! I bet some of
you are yelling discrimination already! But it seems I am the victim with the
hanging job. See, the “His” hanger was about a foot long and designed with two
hanger pegs. The “Her”, well it had four pegs and was well over 2-feet long!
What gives? Is this not discrimination? Could be, but I have one better then
that. One would think that sexual intimidation and or harassment was a thing of
the past. Maybe it still occurs at the workplace in isolated cases. Legitimate
businesses have found it is costly to not have a sexual harassment program
along with an ongoing program wherein violators are terminated immediately. I
guess some businesses haven’t found the learner curve yet. Regardless, why
would somebody be at liberty to urinate upon a fellow workers coveralls? And
that co-worker is the only female on an all white male crew at a military base
power plant run by a private contractor. Can’t happen? Sure it can, especially
if equal rights oversight has become equal right to assault. It follows this formula: Have a selfish and
powerful senior senator change the constitution so it gives Alaskan native
corporations preferential treatment when it comes to government contracts. Now
since most Alaskan native corporations were started with taxpayer money - which
meant these outfits blossomed overnight from freebee seeds - few had yet to
develop anything close to an infrastructure that could successfully support
even a corner lemonade stand. Now in efforts to get the job done so the
shareholders could be enriched, the solution to “do it or loose it” meant
hiring low paid scumbag workers who have no idea or concern how they treat
other workers. Then let them do as they damn well please as long as the
contract is administered and the corporations gets paid so the CEO who has no
idea what CEO means can cruise around on a new Harley-Davidson motorcycle.
Then, place an educated and experienced native American Navajo Indian on the
crew. It is an open invite for abuse including verbal rape, and management, the
scumbag boss hired to do the job, well he likes what is going on. Hey, good
managers would be on the lookout for atrocities of this kind. But with no
accountability, not from the workers, not from management and not from the
Alaskan native corporations’ head honchos - can’t forget to mention possible
immunity from prosecution because of some rider attached to a defense
appropriations bill - EEOC, sexual harassment and workplace intimidation in
Alaska is a joke. Now one may argue that Alaska is a pretty new state so it
takes time to build a reputation. That we will learn from our mistakes. And we
must not forget that America is still trying to get closure on atrocities
against the native American Indians, so we must treat them differently. But
with senators that allow changing the rules in midstream and not looking
forward to the repercussions of their selfish actions to benefit not society
but a select minority, urinating on your fellow worker may trickle down to
allow urinating on your fellow man, or woman. Maybe it has something to do with
eminent domain. It is OK if it benefits society and the rich gets richer! So by
letting unqualified businesses run our government establishments to ruin, it
benefits society as it allows intimidation to once again rule. It means workers
will once again be silenced. Laws to protect workers rights will be booted
right out the door. Union activity? Forget it. Looks like minimum wage is here
to stay. Shoot the messenger senator, after you piss on them!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Junior Allen ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
How
many out there know who Junior Allen is? How many out there know who Tom Delay
is? There is a similarity between these two Americans. Yes Americans. Both men
have been faced with convictions of crimes committed. So both men get to
experience what it is like facing the American criminal justice system. I went
to a catholic school. I learned all through those years that the system of
justice was fair. I lived in a middle-class neighborhood. I didn’t know what a
“black person” was until I went to a Red Sox’s game in Boston. I also learned
that priests could do no wrong, as they were the Lord’s left hand men. We were
taught that they could do no harm, so trust them! We trusted Father Lamb! He
was always sleeping by a bottle of wine. His red face was scary. Now Junior
Allen’s story, at least it had a happy ending. See Junior found himself in a
little trouble back some many years ago, circa 1970. That word “circa” is used
to denote way back when, historical like. Now being a poor black, he didn’t
have any means to defend himself. But remembering that the system of justice
was fair, he relied on the public defender to assist him, along with that
“court appointed” defender. See, he wanted to watch a ball game so he stole a
B&W TV, one that held a $140 dollar value. And he was really an honest man,
so he admitted to the theft, realizing that his penance was justified. I mean,
what would such a petty theft be rewarded with? The white guy in the robe put
Junior Allen away, for a good longtime. He was 30-years old at the time of
incarceration. He was released 35-years later! Just in time for retirement and
SS benefits to kick in. But he found out that his benefit pot was empty. See,
some new law allows “the railroad men to drink up your blood like wine”. Thanks
Bob! So Junior is probably living on the streets by now. Anyway, “freedom at
last” allowed him to get on with his “lost” life. Now though, we move onto our
next victim. Why? Because of the similarities in the fairness behind the
American criminal justice system. Citizens of Iraq take note. Timeout. I just
turned on a ball game, in time for the pledge of allegiance. I caught the ending,
“For liberty and justice for all”. Whew! A tear! Back to Tom Delay. Tom is that
guy from Texas. He started his career off as an exterminator. I grew up with a
kid – a best friend – his dad was an exterminator. Hey, this kid’s house was
free and clear of mice, termites, cats, birds, democrats, you name it. And some
elderly neighbors are still on the “missing” persons list. In fact most of the
neighborhood was void of the pests, as the garage we played soldier in was also
an arsenal of nasty named chemicals, most on the ban lam list these days.
Things like chlordane! Anyway, Tom got himself in big trouble for something
about redistricting. In a nutshell, it allowed only ½ vote for minorities. It
was the Texas Grand Jury that found him guilty. He was indicted, along with
several close friends. Now Tom is a congressman. So if convicted, he looses his
job. That isn’t so bad, as he could easily become a high paid special interest
“keep the prisons filled with poor black folks” consultant. Today, the prison system
is a business. Why do you think the interest behind the “three strikes” you are
in forever rule? It passed unanimously. See, that is how the business
executives can plan for the future, income wise that is. They know how many
young kids will spend at least a third of their lives behind bars. So Tom is in
trouble. Now onto the bad thing about his predicament! He could loss his
Congressional retirement. And that retirement package is better then what the
President of the United States is allowed. So the Congressional crooks that
believe Tom has done no wrong accept exhaustive efforts to further the
republican agenda of “all blacks should be left behind”, well they have come to
his assistance. Hey, an eye for an eye, a crook for a crook. Now I know Congressman
Billy Goat from Alaska has made it clear and convincing that Tom did nothing
wrong. Without a doubt, Billy Goat has most likely contributed to Tom’s Relief
Fund. Hey, we now have Katrina and Rita Relief Funds, so Tom has jumped on the
bandwagon. Yes indeed, senators and congressman throughout the land have
contributed lots and lots of money to Tom’s defense. The sad thing, that money
is from the taxpayers. Yes, we pay their lucrative salaries from our hard
earned dollars. And the only reason that they support the devil, is because Tom
has the goods on most of them. They are all guilty by association. The sad
thing about it, no matter what the fair criminal justice system finds
appropriate for Tom, that system will surely become yet another inequity and
criminal injustice system with the possibility of a “presidential pardon”. So
as Tom sweats nothing, I hope Junior gets enough pocket change to at least for
one time get to see a real baseball game, all in the name of freedom! But there exists a solution to this
inequity. First, take away all voting rights of our representatives. In this
day and age of high-speed networking, the people, the citizens, we should be
the ones who get to vote on the issues – each and every one of them. That is
what the fathers of the Constitution wanted, the only reason that it exists the
way it is today was because of lack of communications and distance of
separation. Now that is a thing of the past, as that distance is diminished
through cell mating. Most people have a means to communicate. Street people
have access to the WWW through the local libraries, all hooked-up. We are a
nation hooked! So with that in mind, the high paid elected representatives
could become secretaries, or electors. And we could pay them an appropriate
wage. And believe me, they wouldn’t have enough money leftover to support the
crooks. Finally, “equity at last, equity at last”. I guess not. Have you heard
about the New Orleans Katrina justice system? The flooding caused by an “act of
God” allowed many criminal records to float away. With no money coming in, so
did the office of the public defender. And the courts are still vacant. So
hundreds of young kids, who just happened to be temporarily incarcerated for
petty theft crimes under $100 dollars, or other minor disturbances, all are
impatiently awaiting a fair and speedy trial. But without police records, it
kind of puts a bind in the process. Now most of these kids have been also
transplanted, to a Federal penitentiary inland, one that used to be a slave
labor camp! Now the special interest groups have said that without evidence,
these kids should be let free immediately. But the other more powerful special
interests, the crooks from Florida who were successful in privatizing the
prison systems, well they say the kids should remain in prison – see they make
a lot of money. Yes indeed, kept in prison until the records are found. More
Junior Allen atrocities in the making. Hey, do we have any congressmen or
senators out there who are alive? Get off your butts and do something to help
un-hook America away from the crooks! Of course why do that, it may mean some
votes lost!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Alaska, the Cry Baby
State ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Alchemist Journalists ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Alchemists
have been trying to make gold from nothing for days. Those days wasted turned
into years. Years into eons. So bottom line, the scientists chasing
philosophical transmutations have forever desired to boldly go where only Dick
Cheney dares to go. I read it on a tabloid cover the other day, that Dick is
living at Ft. Knox! He is there to protect the gold. It follows the supply and
demand thing. If Al-the-Chemist is successful, Hailburton(not a typo!) is
doomed. That outfit relies on the gold standard. See, this company knows the
secret that turns stacks upon stacks of government contract paper to a value
worth its weight in gold. The copy machines this outfit relies upon are
equipped with options, like unable to produce double-sided copies and digitally
synthesized voices that laugh at the government’s paper reduction policy. And
since the government owes a hell of a lot of money to this true-grit American
conglomerate, this country is really the United States of Hailburton. Nowadays,
the science of alchemy is alive and well in the news media. Really! In a
nutshell, some of these cable-TV jockey journalists try to take a mosquito
breaking wind and turn it into a hurricane force Armageddon. All hurricanes
should be called Armageddon, or Barbarageddon or Laurageddon! Anyway, it seems
simple situations become tabloid reality with a few minutes of airtime. Really.
The other day I watched as that guy named Revolver made it look like hurricane
winds at category 10 were inundating the entire world. But he blew reality as
three sheriffs stood stable during the entire interview. Revolver jumped around
so much I was beginning to get seasick. The law guys did everything possible to
hold back laughing. It looked like a puppet on a string! Of course, it wasn’t
really a laughing matter, the hurricanes that is. Why pretend when there exists
major issues to focus on. For instance, has Laura found a new cook for the
White House? Then again, if that is all Laura has to worry about when millions
of Americans and millions of Iraquois are suffering because of her husband’s
incompetence, maybe it is time for the “tabloid voice” of America. All during
the Katrina and Rita show, the “puppet on the string” reporters dreaded the
fact that the hurricane had been down graded and was loosing momentum. It was
big news, so maybe the acting is part of the game. Hey, look at me! Maybe it
means no storm or other atrocity means no claim to fame. Then Revolver
mentioned something about the only institute open was some ho-dunk hotel.
Webster says something interesting about this word through definition.
Institute: an elementary principle recognized as authoritive. Egad! If this
hotel is an institute, our government has a failing grade, maybe no child but
all children were left behind. Looks as if common sense sure took a back seat.
If during an emergency a hotel is about the only thing standing to continue
government…sorry, I can’t stop crying! This country is going through a
transition. Some may say it is bad. The war, hurricanes, deficits, republicans getting
richer. The “blacks” still on the road to nowhere, guided by Tom Delay like
scoundrels. Hey, I hope the Texas Grand Jury takes him down. And what about
Frist? Will he have the same treatment as did Martha? Actually, jail time may
do him some good with respect to his interest in the presidency. Martha came
out smelling like? Her audience likeability has skyrocketed. In fact, she may
be able to put up a good fight for that position of power. But I think a felon
is banned from that office, so it may be pasture time for the senate majority
leader. Of course, he can most likely get his buddies to change horses in
mid-stream. And I am willing to bet that George’s executive privilege “pardon”
list will go like this: Carl “The Coward” Rove, Bill “Me First” Frist, Tom
“Exterminate Gays” Delay, Dick “Nothing but a Heartbeat” Chaney. If you don’t
know what I am talking about, it has to do with being on the inside. In the end
when the smoke clears, the Republican Party will be a thing of the past. The
Democratic Party is already a bygone. So be prepared for the Conservatives
versus the Independents. Really, this is the extreme of politics, for the
supreme beings. With this far right to far left exodus, there is not and cannot
be any middle ground. It will commence the battle royal. May the best man win!
It is basically a time of government transmutations. So maybe we are all
alchemists at heart, and in the end we will once again have an “Institute”. One
that will not corrupt the Constitution, the true Institute of freedom! Hey Cal,
time to duke it out on the “beltway”.
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Alaskan Hell’s Angel ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
I was
hanging out at the “Big Ugly”. That is what we in the know Alaskans call the
Ted Stevens Airport. It follows that of Boston’s “Big Dig”. It has to do with
“pork”. See, in Alaska we get the pork, the rind, the whole nine yards. I am
waiting for the day that every citizen outside Alaska sues the 49th state’s
citizens. Why? We have robbed the treasury and have nothing to show for it. I
take that back. Soon we will have bridges to somewhere. Everybody keeps picking
on this state. It has to do with a bunch of money coming our way to build bridges.
Hey, these bridges have to lead to somewhere? Anyway, I am always amused
watching the traveling public interact with the men and women of the TSA. It is
interesting how our once equitable system of respect has taken on the form of
terrorism. Yes indeed, terrorist target unsuspected victims. So does the TSA,
when it comes to demanding disrobing. I watched one guy, he seemed to take
advantage of young girls, opting to have them take off their coats. His eyes
were glued not to possible terrorist activities, but boobs. He was an older
man, with pervert written all over his face. Now approaches this guy wearing
the “colors”. Well low and behold, this guy gets MVP treatment. No nothing,
just a polite smile from the security detail, as if they feared for their
lives. So maybe we should all join the Hell’s Angels. Wouldn’t that freak the
government out? Think about it. We could have the biggest union of brothers and
sisters. We could run the world instead of letting the current administration
ruin the world. Bottom line, TSA is a joke. In fact, I am willing to bet that
in no time flat the TSA budget will surpass that of the TVA. At least that
outfit produced something, electricity. About the only thing that the TSA has
produced is hate and discontent. But you can’t blame the TSA. Their mandate was
designed by the BUSH administration, with the fear factor. Anyway, we hear a
lot about this country’s morale going down the tubes. All the pollsters are
saying the same thing. When a country is under one roof, it is hard to blame
the other guys pigeons! For shitting all over us. But when I was at the
airport, I noticed something different. About a year ago, when a platoon of
troops would make their way through the concourse, the citizens of this country
would take note. People would clap. Some would immediately place a hand over
heart, for old glory. Some would salute. Some would cry. But now it seems to be
of no interest. The “Big Ugly” gets its fair share of military travelers, and
as the Iraq war is finding more and more Alaskan’s in that theater, one would
think just the opposite sentiment with the locals. It is easy to see that the
non-excitement is an indication that this country is tired of the war. Sure we
drive around each day sporting the “Support the Troops” paraphernalia, but do
we really thing of them each day, even a little bit? I didn’t see it the other
night at the airport, but maybe that is because it was 2am, and most people had
their attention affixed to the guy in the “colors”, the fear factor!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Sunday – Maybe the Lord’s Day ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
I was out driving about the
other day, on a Sunday. The roads around Anchorage were empty! And it was at
noontime with real decent weather, sunshine and dry pavement. At first came the
thought that it was the end of the world, and I was the only one alive. I was
even able to slow my car down to a crawl, to watch a bull moose racked in velvet.
Now that is a beautiful sight, especially against the backdrop of autumn. And
the leaves were at the multi-color saturation point. Normally, to slow down
even to the speed limit on these roads would have the horns blowing, sending
the moose into frenzy. But not today, it was rather strange. Alaska has two
speed limits enacted on each road. We can waste money on signs because wasting
money is Alaska’s claim to fame. Now one sign is the posted speed. But that
simplistic advertisement doesn’t mean anything to anyone, as the other sign is
the controlling limit. See, if you are going any speed under any conditions,
you are violating the law if “5-vehicles” congregate to form a tailgate parade.
So if the four drivers behind you have no idea what a speedometer is all about
and riding your tail and each other’s tail, you have the choice of pulling off
the road or speeding up, or else the jerks behind you think you deserve a
ticket. So we basically have no speed
limits here in Anchorage – except in school zones. Hey, can you park at a
parking meter that is broke? Anyway, Where was everybody? Then it dawned on me.
Church bells had called everybody to attention. Sure enough, every parking lot
from a failed business venture once funded by the state now sported churchgoers.
Really, that is how things work here in Alaska. See, religion is in competition
with God. We have the Black Gold denomination as well as the Ben denomination
as well as the “Bridge to Hell” denomination, on and on and on. So the
preachers have to find different ways to make advancements of their mission. To
hell most of them should go! It all started a few years ago. See there was a
fish processing plant built by state money. This was a modern day facility,
state of the art. But no fish ever showed up. It was blamed on an “act of God”!
So it was turned into a church. Sold for micro-pennies on the dollar. Now the
church wants to turn the monstrosity into a gambling casino, for tourists. Wow,
how time flies. Hey that moose is running off into the woods. Here comes a
caravan of vehicles. Man, I had to perform evasive maneuvers and pull over,
almost into the ditch! Why all the horns blowing? I am just trying to enjoy
nature. Oh, these people just got out of church! Peace be with you also! What
was that? A middle finger? And I thought I heard the family man yell something
about piss on your peace man. Hey, I recognize that guy. He used to work up on
the slope. Then he got caught having an affair with a secretary. That’s right,
he became a preacher. Man-o-man, Sundays! Must have been that sermon about road
rage! Finally, I made it back onto the road. Why is everybody in such a hurry?
Is there an emergency evacuation in progress? Looks like a run on the markets,
parking lot is full. Hey look at those two guys fighting over that parking
place right up front. Strange, they both have suits on, and it’s a Sunday. I
forgot, church, that well respected man about town fake you out. You know,
people are tamer during the week. Maybe it has to do with that like father like
son thing. Maybe their god is mad, so they are mad also. I think I’ll just stay
at home next Sunday. Moose, hit the hills for cover! Hey that’s interesting.
Alaska was just voted number uno for road rage. And the survey was performed on
a Sunday, at an intersection that had a “Church” on every corner!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Seekin Communism ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
From the
Vodkaski Poll: Have you ever met an honest car salesman?
Yes: 0
No: 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000
Wow!
How come so many car salesmen become politicians? Seems the Republican party
will soon be the Republican “felon” party. That is what happens when ethics
goes out the window. Tom Delay is in trouble. Bill Frist is in trouble. Carl
Rove is in trouble. Here in Alaska, hey we are still close to Russia. And it
seems some Alaskans have not given up on the heritage that at one time ruled, communism
that is. We have a car salesman who is trying to get rid of the 1st
amendment, so they can have their communistic ways and means come back to haunt
Seward. He’s the guy that purchased the once Red state for 2-cents an acre. Yes
indeed, Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of speech! Now get
this. This lemon law abiding guy in office is trying to make it a fine and
punishment if a citizen speaks out against a politician during election time
and brings up an ethics charge. Really! It would be a felon and a big fine if
Yon Valdez said the e-word. And it wouldn’t matter if the politician was a
rapist or a car salesman with a crooked past. The e-word would be banned during
election time! But that is kind of in-line as to why the House is in so much
trouble. The crooks made a law that allowed an ethics charge to be pursued only
from within. It means Yon Valdez’s daughter could be raped by a politician and
there would be nothing he could do as far as an ethics violation against this
guy. And with the house controlled by one party, there would be no way for a
congressman to move against another. They would just say it wasn’t rape but
consensual. Now get this. The Anchorage assembly just proposed a new law that
is designed to cut down on the meth-amphetamine manufacturing. It seems this
stuff can be made with household ingredients and a few extras. Well if one gets
caught selling or buying the “extras” without legitimate reason, a $5000.00
fine. Just like the car salesmen’s law. But no criminal conviction. Now that
one law required assembly approval. It meant people can go to the assembly and
be heard, just like a jury. And there was some changes made, as some of the
“extras” are used by the oil industry. So the oil guys didn’t want to be held
liable if the “extras” some how or another made it to the hands of the modern
day meth scientists. With confusion, the new law was shelved for the time
being. I guess that is what is called democracy. But the communist can just
make laws that fit their desires. So say goodbye to the e-word. Say goodbye to
the rights allowed under the Constitution. With that, heed the warning from a
local history professor who keeps saying over and over again, that Democracy is
hypocrisy without communism. Hey, maybe we can spend some money to re-stoke the
Red, for the Red, White and Blue!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Scary Thought ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
So what
happens if George Bush falls off his bike and looses his memory? My daughter
asked me this question just the other day. At first, I laughed. What memory?
Then the scary stuff started to surface. It had to do with the reality of the
hierarchy of substitute teachers. See, George is the “Great Teacher”, and the
citizens of this country are his students. It seems to be a carryover from no
child left behind. So if George calls in sick, Dick gets to substitute. He can
talk about his war protest days. But Dick is always in the experimental lab,
something to do with a malfunctioning Haliburton down-hole pump. See, this
outfit has been experimenting with a pump to pull crude oil out of tar sands.
By experimenting on Dick, it becomes a write-off. So then we move on to Loud
Mouth Speaker of the House. Now this guy Hastert, does anybody know anything
about his background? Like does he get those chipmunk bulges from to much fast
food or is it a heredity trait? He stays hidden away nowadays. Maybe because
all his buddies are into deep doodoo. Take Bill Frist for instance. He is still
the house majority leader but seems to be spending time getting advise from
Martha – before he gets to spend time! He was caught, insider scamming. I guess
he can be cell mates with Tom Delay. Then the shivers invaded my thought
process. It was scary. Next in line at the helm would be the President “pro
tempore” of the Senate. That would be the Hulk. Yes indeed, Alaska’s finest
would be the commander of thieves. At least an appropriate title. That “pro
tempore” must have something to do with a temper. If that is a prerequisite,
this guy Hulk has it made. And Alaska would have it made, twice baked. See,
with TED in control, all the money would end up in Alaska. The Treasury would
be transferred, right in Ted’s backyard, possibly to Girdwood. Now people think
that is a Post Office that is being built. Think again! We have an airport
named after Ted. We have a family center named after Ted. Soon, if it is a post
office, it will be named after Ted. We have a pacifier, named after Ted. So
everybody out there in the lower 48 states, take note. Hawaii doesn’t have to
worry, as Ted’s brother is the senator from that region. At least I think they
are brothers? With Ted in control, we could have “porkathons”. The Denali
Commission, one of Ted’s starships and an outlaw outfit that can’t account for
some goods, could be supplemented by the Barnum & Bailey Commission. Yes
indeed, lets spend millions of dollars so the circus can visit every town in
Alaska. Maybe we can use those bridges to nowhere to get the elephants up and
down the Yukon River! And maybe we can get a cut-rate deal with the Ringling
Brothers. Keep the clowns at home, we have more then enough in Juneau. Hey, if
someone can pay for a watermelon eating contest in Tok, the possibilities are
endless. Tok, if your lucky you’ll find it on an Alaska map! Then we could have
the Mr. Potato Head Commission, as we do grow spuds here, but can’t seem to
figure out why they look more like the governor then the quail. Of course, our
governor knows how to sing “leaving on a jet plane”! We could budget money for
the “Bridges to Nowhere” Commission. Alaska definitely needs a bridge to
Russia. As a getaway for all the political crooks that would come to this state.
It would be the Presidential Pardon State. Oh, back to that bridge to Russia.
Now that project would be on the front burner, in efforts to keep Boris happy.
So that bridge would not be a bridge to nowhere, as there is already a need. We
could commission a convoy of tanker trucks, filled with vodka. Ah, how about
the “Nepotism Commission”. Bottom line, Alaska is a beautiful state when it
comes to unadulterated natural beauty, But this state is ugly from the
political stab-point, I mean standpoint. Maybe not. To name the taxpayer
atrocities would not be fair. It would cause outrage more violent then Alaska
road rage. As a matter of fact, more violent then Ted’s rage. Hey, the other
day while I was in the checkout line, I noticed something of interest. Nestled
amongst the Enquirer, and the Star, and the World Gossip tabloids was Alaska’s
very own hemorrhoid. A picture of a smiling Ted. The caption, what will we do
when he is gone. What do they know that we don’t? Maybe he has a one-way ticket
over that bridge to Russia, with the vodka convoy! Not quite presidential
material in my book, so please George, be careful!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Yammin ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Alaska
isn’t your typical agricultural state. But we do receive farm crop subsidies to
grow nothing. When I say we, what I mean is “we” pay for making a few lazy
individuals millionaires. Most recipients aren’t farmers to begin with. To join
that laissez-faire club one must be either a senator or a real estate thief.
Now Alaska is known for growing monster size cabbages and squash. Along with
some potent marijuana rendered from hemp plants that work the 24-hour sunshine
of summer’s solstice – that of course when growing and indulging in this
substance was legal. But growing stuff is a short seasonal thing, so most
residents have no idea how to spell potatoe. Anyway, it is always a classical
gas when shopping at the non-union grocery stores. Knowledge in the subject of
vegetable identification doesn’t seem to be a prerequisite to success at
employment. What the hell is a pluot? Radicchio, is that a radish? Now all goes
well if the vegetable or fruit contains one of those bar code labels. But if
one wants to hold up the quick checkout line, buy something out of the
ordinary. I remember when I was a kid in grade school. I went to a private
school. With the start of each school year - open season for nuns banishing
steel edged rulers and waiting to practice pain management on knuckles - a test
was administered to see what career path one should pursue. Every guy wanted to
be a pilot. All girls? Nurses of course. Except tomboy Pat, she wanted to
become the U.S. Attorney General. This test was supposed to tell an individual,
including parents, what the chances were at fulfilling that dream. Now if a
tested individual didn’t make the grade, it meant the only suitable job career
was the default job, that of a farmer. Hey, back then the mentality was
convincing that anybody could work a shovel. I was supposed to be a farmer.
This stereotyping was typical back many years ago when Monica, while still in
diapers, watched Marilyn run the White House. So is it a yam or a sweet potato?
This is a great conversational gig. I have been successful in getting an entire
cast of shoppers and checkers totally engrossed in trying to figure out yam or
sweetie. A yam is from the Dioscorea family. Don’t we have a supreme court
clown with the same name? So, in efforts to prove that no Alaskan adult was a
child left behind, here is a way to never forget the difference. Observe each
vegetable. Now in your mind, think of which one when pulverized and mashed
looks like baby shit. Sure enough, it will be the yam. I have tested this on
several occasions and it works! People are amazed and amused. And consider
this, according to some checkout tabloid that owns national public radio, the
best place to pick up is the grocery store, especially if you know your pluots!
Just don’t get embarrassed trying to explain ED. When I went to school, it
meant explosive diarrhea. Now though, it has something to do with a condition
that if persistent for more then four hours, it can cause irreparable damage. I
am still trying to figure it out. How about a quiz on science? Who is
responsible for the following theory? “Give me a lever and I can move the
earth”. Remember Phineas J. Whoopee, the mad scientist from Tennessee Tuxedo
and his tales? And kids can’t pronounce the “ph”, just too advanced for young
tongues. So we have “penis whoopee” name calling running around the nursery!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ RESPECT ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
So
the question before us, do we put the nation’s flags at half-mast for the
victims of Katrina or for Rehnquist? If it comes down to respect, the hurricane
victims win out in my book. It is not out of a lesser respect for the Chief
Justice, second on the list, that allows the victimized minorities to have some
claim to honor over the head of the courts - yes it is! Hey, did you realize
that the decision to place flags at half-mast is a state governor’s ultimate
call? I once made a request for half-mast honors here in Alaska, when the
soldier death toll reached 1500 with the Iraq war. I was informed that it was a
good idea but the flags were already at half-mast, because the zoo elephant had
died! And the governor was busy test driving a jet, so the elephant won out.
You may ask what an elephant is doing in Alaska? Some lady entered a contest
way back when and the prize was an elephant or the animals weight in coleslaw!
In actuality, the elephant prize was really all a joke. But the winner got what
she wanted. And the delivery of the beast in the “Last Frontier” state started
what is now the Alaska Zoo. You may ask why an Alaskan governor is busy test
driving a jet? It has something to do with a nosebleed. Really! See, the head
honcho of the port of Anchorage, who is an ex-governor himself, well he
receives a pretty lucrative health plan. About a year ago, on a vacation down
in Mexico, he suffered an itsy-bitsy teeny weenie nosebleed. He didn’t like the
local medical guys that spoke broken English, so he chartered a jet to take him
and his wife all the way back to Alaska.
This was allowed under his health plan. No wonder my heading to infinity
deductible is bankrupting my beer money stash. So the governor thinks he should
have the same treatment – both guys work for the state. And with no real work
responsibilities once in state office - by election or appointment - they
compete for fringe benefits and that golden handshake heist. Anyway, back to
RESPECT. Way back in 2000, during the Bush family hijacking of my country, the
true colors of selfishness rang out of control. And Rehnquist is an honorary
member of that elitist family of fools. There’s old man George, who has taken
on the role of Hardy with sidekick Laurel, played by Bill Clinton. Then we have
Jeb, who cajoled Kathleen Harris into faking a political orgasm to thrill the
nation. She wears enough make-up to reface Mount Rushmore! On to baby George,
who still talks like he has a pacifier problem. Hey, did you hear that Laura?
Maybe you and what’s her name - old maid Mrs. Bush - can figure this out before
he has another tantrum and destroys the world. Then again, now that old man
Bush and Bill are buddies, maybe the ex-president who cannot tell a lie can get
Monica to help George get over the pacifier crutch. Bottom line, it was an
election process turned into a selection process. One man had the power to turn
the tides against the American people. That man was Chief Justice Rehnquist.
Now this kind of malfeasance could be considered a dereliction of duty,
especially when the country’s highest official of the court involves himself
for selfish reasons. I believe he abused his position as pay back for his
appointed position forever on the court. A gift from old man George. The high
court of the land used to be held in high esteem. It was the ultimate decision
maker. It was supposed to remain neutral and unbiased when rendering opinions
that affected the people of this land. Most of the time, this court maintained
that balance, but one individual had the power to disrupt the balance. Maybe
court appointees should be “at will”, just like a majority of the American
workers. Hey, if they don’t like the way you comb your hair, your history. If
we don’t like the court’s opinion, seat vacated. Having security used to be
what union members enjoyed – not anymore though. Now these individuals appointed to the high court sit around for
years and dissect the Constitution – in efforts to uphold it. That is the job.
Special interest or favoritism is banned from the high court. If it is allowed
through the door, liberty is doomed. Hey, I have my job. I do it to the best of
my ability. There comes chores that I don’t like to do, it comes with the
territory. Regardless, I do it. Rehnquist knew what was going on during the election
boondoggle. I live way up in Alaska, but with modern day communications, it was
not hard to decipher what was going down. If I can see it some 5000-miles away,
there is no excuse the people in control of our destiny can’t see it. For
instance, Tom Delay sent hecklers to harass those trying to get a re-vote. He
used your taxpayer money! Voters of color were disenfranchised, once again.
Rehnquist should have had the insight to see what was going on. But back then,
the sentiment from the possible loosing party was more of the same. It is time
to move on they said. So the Supreme Court ruled in favor of a fool. There was
only one individual who could have steered this country in the patriotic
direction. It was not the president select. It was the Chief Justice. He sold
out. Because of his selfishness, I have no respect. He cannot rest in peace, as
his actions left the world short on peace. Case in point. Look at what has
happened since the gavel fell and baby Bush was selected. It is one catastrophe
after another. The election was a catastrophe, it cast doubt around the world
upon the greatest of democracies. Then came 911. The shuttle lost in space.
Iraq. Oil prices through the roof. Gasoline shortages. 2000 dead soldiers.
Freedom at last, stolen away again. And now an unprepared America has the
greatest catastrophe. We should be able to enjoy life, liberty and the pursuit
of happiness with our families, while the administration does its job. America
should have been prepared. But as a whole, we have been weakened - by our own
leaders dereliction, in efforts for their own selfish agendas to be ordained.
Religion seems to find a way into their excuses for their actions and
inactions. In the past, this never would have happened with an alert vice.
Maybe Dick was to busy dicken the people with the Haliburton prod. And baby
George was back on the pacifier, the lame duck suckler, and nobody cared what
happens to us, to US. Now maybe when the honor of the half-mast wears off for
the victims of Katrina, then maybe Rehnquist can have his time on the pole. I
guess not. It just came in over the wire that Gilligan passed away. This guy
was truly an American hero. Flags at half-mast, not for the judge!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Dirty Rotten Politics ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Mission
almost accomplished! Alaskans thought they were spared from the sounds of taps reverberating
the sorrow of a fallen soldier. The Iraq war, now enjoying a successful
consecutive term of endangerment, just like George Bush’s second term of
endearment - Condy - that bitter war now claims yet another soldier. I think
old man George along with out of touch with the real world Barbara failed with
their son, accountability I am talking about! The fallen soldier’s name is
Matt, who followed after Grant and a kid from Salcha. I knew Grant as a young
frisky coffee barista. And anybody from Salcha has to be a compassionate
individual, survival in the bush mandates that attribute towards one’s fellow
man. Does George understand what compassion means in this day and age? It has
nothing to do with sorrow over Trent Lott’s missing porch! And Alaskan’s should
be prepared to see flag draped caskets becoming a familiar sight - if this war
continues. We still have not engaged an exit strategy, so the war may go on
until it cripples the economy. Rumsfeld, the guy in charge of the war, he
doesn’t understand the notion of an exit plan. Powell did, he bailed out. Maybe
that is the plan, no plan, and a strangled economy means the rich can get rid
of the poor, middle class and almost rich. It means they can become the
super-rich! What’s a few lives for liberty they will claim on their tax
returns. Now there was a gamble that allowed the 49th state to escape the
horrors of this war. Senators loose votes when kids get killed. Especially in
un-necessary conflicts upon humans of one religion against humans of another
religion. I think there is only one God. Why so many different denominations?
Senators will rob and cheat to get votes. Without votes, it may mean back to
work for a living. Mark Twain was right about our representatives. Alaska has
the most powerful representatives - it comes from seniority. Powerful senators
can manipulate the system of government, so sons and daughters don’t end up in
harms way. It has to do with the purse strings. Did you realize that there
already exists an out for the sons, daughters and dogs of our reps. It works
like this. The Iraq theater is considered hostile. The hostility includes
kidnappings – it is a terrorist insurgent’s tool. So the kidnapping probability
could target government official’s kin over John Nobody grunt. So that is
unfair they claim as it disadvantages their loved ones. This allows an
exemption from service, should it be necessary to implement a selective service
draft. Now getting back to the manipulation process. Remember, one soldier’s
death probably means the loss of 20 re-election votes. This is the dirtiest
rotten of politics. It is a sin, as these guys supported the president’s war,
but at others expense. Here is how it worked in Alaska, the “Lost Frontier”
state. Alaska has always been - location wise - a prominent deterrent against
aggressive invaders, as this land mass is closer to Russia then the contingent
48 states. Alaska’s military is part of the Pacific Air Command. The command is
responsible for engaging anything considered hostile or threatening, including
UFO’s and Green Peace. And that responsibility continues in force today, as the
Arctic Ocean is filled with soviet submarines with nothing better to do then
putt around until the fuel rods run out of energy. And just recently, we
received money for some defense project that is called “hide and seek”. The
plan is to hide these pre-emptive strike missiles in concrete silos and launch
when necessary. So we still hold an importance in protecting the lower 48
states. That is OK. But that also allowed the troop deployment from this state
to be delayed. Hey, no troops, no protection. Troops are needed to operate the
military’s protection infrastructure and to secure things like the 800-mile
long Trans-Alaskan-Pipeline. The thinking here was the fact that before the war
started, George said the mission was accomplished. He gets his cue mixed up,
still in diapers when it comes to political savvy. So had the war only lasted a
week and liberated Iraq enjoyed our company, the chances of Alaska’s military
might mobilizing was a remote possibility, as the troop assignments would have
winded down with democracy in place. The gamble was to have no Alaskan kid’s
life lost for this call to democracy. The senators all knew that this was not a
war that warranted even a single fatality, but party lining does not allow
these fools a real say in our government unless it concerns the “pork barrel”.
So as the war dragged on, commanders had to dig into their reserves, which
meant Alaska’s troops could no longer hide, and now they have the marching
orders for deployment. The sad thing, the insurgents are smarter, the war is
uglier! And there existed other reasons to delay deployment in hopes that it
would never happen. As battalions ship out, so does the economy. A bad economy can loose an incumbent votes.
Pretty ugly history lesson. These guys in office think they are smart. In the
end, if one digs deep enough, their true colors show and bleed the red, white
and blue to doom. For the troops, for those that will come marching home with
stiff Johnny by their side, just remember, Ted tried!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ A Mark Twain Day ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
For some reason, I woke up
feeling like a true American – strong and proud. It must have meant that it was
going to be a Mark Twain sort of day. And the outside air was so still! Seems
feeling proud has almost become a thing of the past. Test yourself! Why are you
proud to be an American? So it was a relief that I still had it in me, such
true feelings about my country – that an ember yet stays! Even if hard times
had invaded my life, liberty and pursuit of happiness. I lost my job because I
raised an issue over concerns of asbestos contamination at an Air Force base
power plant right here in Anchorage. It involved a contractor - an Alaskan
Native Corporation - that was paid money to deal with the health issues. The
money disappeared. The shareholders benefited. Being the older guy amongst a
crew of younger guys, I felt compelled to speak up, as I didn’t want to see any
of these new dads some twenty years from now, wheelchair disabled. The old
saying, “Somebody has to do it”, has worn its welcome I guess. Why do Americans
feel the necessity to steal from government? Maybe because they are not truly
American, but terrorists in disguise. Individualism is a difficult path to take
in this day and age. It denies special interests its special accommodations
with our representatives. Special interest is merely a Trojan horse. Its ever
increasing existence provides ammunition to form a class system within itself.
But I have always been a “sole source” crusader of the red, white and blue.
Interesting! The colors of my flag. Does it define a class system where no
class system should exist? Red for the rich, as they bleed my country dry in
their vain attempts to steal their way to freedom plus some. White for the hard
working class that works for one’s daily bread and a roof over head – it means
a sense of freedom. Blue for the poor people who continue to sing the blues,
and can only pray for their daily bread. Freedom missing. Hey rich man, can you
spare a crumb? Maybe, but pets come first. As far as my individuality, it stems
from my parents commitment, of Irish decent. They left me not an estate, but
fostered within me for this real estate called America the ideals of honesty
and greed be a sin. Maybe there was something in the air, it was still, still!
Defiantly a Mark Twain sort of day. Why the race to rip-off? Even way up here
in Alaska, con artists disguised as real people steel us blind. Us? United
States! They call themselves Americans! They know who they are. But for many,
it is a heredity trait, like father like son, with many following the corrupt
ways and means of our so-called leaders. Again, my father taught me honesty.
Politicians know not that word’s meaning. The still air, still amused me. Why
was it defiantly and definitely a Mark Twain sort of day? Because our so-called
leadership was in hiding! I once knew a pipeline manager that would get lost in
the air between Anchorage and Prudhoe Bay. When under the gun, he would go to
the airport and jump aboard the slow flight north, which meant stopovers in
Fairbanks and Barrow. It meant a day in hiding. It worked well for him, as
tempers flare down exponentially. He would have been a good politician! Where
is he nowadays? Anyway, why were our
leaders in hiding? Especially when they have exclusive privileges that protect
anything and everything they do while in office – immunity they call it. Right
after the Congress passed a relief bill for victims of Katrina, it was off to
hiding. First, there is no money available for relief. This nation is taxed
weak and deep with debt and a war to boot. Relief for Americans in need may
mean making a sacrifice, sacrilegious when a senator has to fork over some of
the pork. What do you mean Don can’t have his bridges to nowhere up here in
Alaska? Second, the heat of responsibility over the New Orleans catastrophe was
infecting the members of the House and Senate like flies on you know what! So
hiding was all they could do with regards to the bipartisan blame. There was
enough to go around. And when in hiding, our freedoms are like the
“untouchables”. We can’t regain what has been lost, but with a sigh of relief,
it won’t get any worse – for the short time that is. These idiots can’t stay in
hiding for long – to bad. Who would really miss them? In Alaska, our
representatives are missing for 11-months out of the year. One guy doesn’t even
have a residence and shows up only when his son is in trouble. I have no one to
bail me out, as an American, I can handle bridges over troubled waters. In that
respect, I am proud to be an American. And some day, maybe our leadership will
be just that, leaders of the American ship and bridges will lead to equality of
freedom. And with that, others will fall in line, as followers, but behind a
true leader. People have it in themselves to be true Americans, followers of
true leaders. True leaders are out there. So Mark Twain, enjoy this sought
after day, while the leadership is AWOL, Away Whining Over Louisiana! But
before moving on, did you readers ever have somebody make you break the rules?
Happened to me just the other day. I was at the market. Now I believe in pretty
strict adherence to the rules. My time is no more valuable then another
person’s time. I respect rules instrumental in efforts to make life easier. So
when the checkout-Natzi advised me to go to the quick checkout line, I relayed
to her that my cart contained more then 10 items. That is what the big can’t
miss that means you sign was all about! But she agued with me that it was OK,
because the line was empty. And sure enough, as soon as I unloaded the 11
items, a little old mean looking lady showed up with a single item. Mad she
was! And when she should have been entertaining herself with tabloid news -
like Hilary loosing her virginity - she was counting my grocery items. She knew
that I was over the limit. She kept pushing her cart into me as if to gain my
attention. Hey, I was only doing what I was told to do, break the rules. I
didn’t get angry at the lady, she was like me. But that is how it works with
many politicians. They break the laws and pass their actions or inactions upon
their sons and daughters, that it is OK. Like their positions provide the
privilege of immunity – it’s a family affair. Unfortunately, this carries on
through society and is cumulating to cause a total breakdown of fairness. We
see it all the time up here in Alaska. Sons and daughters awarded privileges
and immunities that beg to crater the once great society based on Americanism,
replaced by Nepotism. Hey, do you drive faster then the posted speed limit? Hey
do you run red lights? Hey to you cheat on your tax return, just a little bit?
Was that donation really worth $100.00? Really easy to add an extra zero isn’t
it. Maybe being a crook is part of being an American! Maybe the rules are made
for the other guys, those that have the IQ to understand that rules are there
for a reason. Sad state of affairs, isn’t it Mark! Oh how I yearn for more Mark
Twain kind of days.
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ EXTRA! EXTRA! Read
All About It ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Hot
off the press of the World News Daily: Coyotes protect Alien baby from
cops. Bigfoot crashes wine tasting party. Handyman patches hole in ozone layer
with duct tape. Dick Cheney living at Fort Knox. I was stuck in the
“quick” checkout isle the other night. Down below at knee elevation, the World
News Daily. Must be a comic book for little kids. I started laughing. I lost
it. The lady next to me was annoyed, like I was some crazed maniac approaching
postal because the line was moving so slowly, until she read what was so
amusing. She started laughing, and also lost it. Then the checker became
annoyed. Why were we laughing? It was written all over her smiling we love the
customers’ face. This was news, especially the duct tape story. We keep one of
our senator’s brains together with this stuff up here in Alaska. Many of his
colleagues think it’s an Alaskan style headband. Seems someone found an even
better way to put the “gray” matter to use. The tape that is! I always doubted
the tabloids, but I guess I was wrong, as it takes a mighty IQ to put 1 and 1
together! All the headline stories paint a picture of the “big” picture. The
alien baby was stuck on earth, because the handyman patched the ozone layer
breach. The hole was the only escape path for the alien. Now the alien baby was
smart. And realizing it was now stuck on earth, it started communicating with
the desert animals. The animals came up with this plan to free the alien,
engaging the help of the U.N. It was going to work like the Iraq oil for food
program. And who best to administer such a program, but Hussein himself. So
that picture of Bigfoot was really an on the loose insane Hussein. And with so
many distinguished guests taking kickbacks from oil but no food – well-known
corporations – the Alien baby was sure to find freedom. Just think, instead of
the WMD excuse, George could use the excuse of cruel and un-normal treatment,
or CUNT. Now Dick was worried about the money, and since he cannot trust anyone
or anything except his pacemaker, he started camping out at the fort, in
efforts to pay off his friends first! I guess next week’s tabloid will fill us
in on what happens. Hot off the wire: Frank meets with the Dalai Lama. Now this
was certainly out of the ordinary. But the Lama’s plane landing in Anchorage
might have occurred out of a threat, when Ted and Frank were testing the newest
missile defense system here in Alaska, it must have been a preplanned attack.
Maybe it had to do with the CUNT. We keep looking for targets, in efforts to
test the thing. We built an expensive facility for simulated launching of rogue
test rockets. Yes indeed, way out on Kodiak Island. It was built far away so we
couldn’t get close, to see how money is wasted. Just like the capitol of
Alaska. Juneau, also a test facility, it was built far and away from Alaska,
for the same reason. Alaska is the state that leads the nation in the least
amount of residents who have visited their own capital. Not a typo! We spend a
whole bunch of money building underground concrete silos here in Alaska, for
rockets. But they seem to keep having troubles. Like forgetting to take the
holding belts off the rockets before blast off! Now the “rocket men” did have
two successful launches this past year, both were model rockets made by some 5th
grade class. The kind you can by at the hobby shop. The sad fact of the matter,
when the yearly mission accomplished statement was broadcast from this state
funded institute, it mentioned the two launches! Two was the year’s total. Now,
why else would Frank want to meet with Buddhist priest? This is apples and
oranges trying to mix to have off-springs. Like pluots! That may be a typo. The
other day, the market lady tried to tell me the cantaloupe was a pomegranate!
It just doesn’t work. I’m back to the Lama’s visit with the ex-senator now
governor give your seat to daughter failed getting ANWR open, Frank. I mean,
why for any reason but insanity would Frank meet with a Lama? I guess the Lama
wanted to see wildlife. It was the wrong time of year. In September, it is
winter. Of course his meeting meant a good photo-shoot with a water buffalo!
But then again, his appearance might have been due to position. See up here in
Alaska, our location on the globe allows ownership of the over-world flight
routes. So we can demand planes to land, especially when it is easy to lock-jaw
a plane with the threat of cheap airplane fuel. Now sometimes we don’t ask for
company, planes just appear on radar. It happened a few years ago. A volcano
erupted and sent an ash cloud aloft across the wild blue yonder. It was
night-time and the watch keeper was asleep at the wheel. A fully loaded Korean
747 jet on autopilot shot the cloud. It was dark, so was the cloud. All 4 jet engines
went berserk. Not only that, the windshield was sandblasted to a state of
“can’t see the runway”. These guys landed the plane, blind and with only two
engines. It was a miracle. But I never saw this story in the tabloid, even
though many onboard insisted that they were going to walk back home. But they
were told by the Alaskan Bridge Authority that the land bridge wasn’t complete
yet. We just received funding for that bridge. I don’t know why people keep
calling it a bridge to nowhere? One of the bridges to nowhere will recreate
history – that land bridge for those passengers that still insist on walking
home. Anyway, we can now boost that we were honored with a visit from the high
priest. The bad thing, Frank held a secret meeting. I bet Frank tried to get a
commitment from the Lama to invest in a natural gas swipe-line. This state is
getting ready to give away our resources once again. We like to give away
everything, especially to foreign countries. I guess Frank got mixed up. He
thought the Dalai Lama was the name of some energy company conglomerate. An
outfit that had its own plane and the entire cast of dignitaries from that
company just happened to visit this state. See Frank enjoys his own jet. That
is how he sets his priorities. Frank is now part of the jet set. So if you have
a jet plane, I am sure Frank will meet with you. To bad the residents didn’t
get to vote on the wing deal. Not whether or not to buy such a ridiculous piece
of un-necessary junk, but a say on what kind. I would have preferred a blimp!
Then again, a hot air balloon would also be appropriate, no need to worry about
lack of “hot air”! Hey, send paper airplanes to Juneau, and use Ted’s address
in D.C. as a return address. Really, I tried that once. It works. I was upset
over the Bush selection process. It was a bunch of crybabies led by some
exterminator out of Texas. We used to have a saying up here in Alaska. In fact,
it was the most sought after bumper sticker: “Happiness is a Texan leaving
Alaska with an Okie under each arm”. Anyway, distraught, I sent Bush a
pacifier, a baby pacifier. It was enclosed in a plastic bag, so the contents
wouldn’t be suspect. Now just incase Bush declined to take procession of this
much-needed vise, the return address was that of our senior senile senator,
Hulk No Hero. I guess it worked, as a call from the Post Office head honcho
said that it could be considered a crime, to purposely place an incorrect
address on the parcel. But did you realize that lawyers break the postal rules
each and every day? Really, see they have to send out an awful lot of
“Certified” mail. That green card scares people. But it costs money and takes
time to accomplish this feat – Post Office instruction bulletin PS:ABCD12345.
And since lawyers make about $250 dollars an hour, even when they are thinking
about a case in their sleep, they cut corners. See, one can send the green card
in a regular envelope. When the recipient gets the mail, being scared, they
sign the green card and place it in the mailbox. It gets returned to the law
office, for free. Return postage is supposed to be paid up front! So it becomes
a legal paper trail, all for the price of a first class stamp, a big savings –
criminal! I once ratted out on a law firm over this practice. The postal police
said it must have been just an oversight, as lawyers should know better. They
said it was most likely the secretary’s mistake. Actually, they told me it was
hard to prosecute this type of crime. I hate the word hate, but sometimes the
ways justifies the means! I hate lawyers. I also sent my voter registration
card to Rehnquist, when he was still active in politics on the high bench. He
was once a lawyer. Along with the card, a reason why he was better qualified to
make my vote. I am sure that letter and card is now floating around somewhere
in the annals of disgruntled Americans. Maybe with the TSA! I might be a
target, from my own state’s arsenal of revenge, under immunity of the CUNT.
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ People of Influence ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Now
and again you hear that age old time tested question to name an individual who
has influenced your life. Some of the favorites for the scientific community
may name Einstein or Newton. If you ever get the boredom bug, try reading
Newton’s Principia! As far as the medical profession, maybe Pasteur or Dr.
Viagra. If you ever get the other bothersome bug, try some Viagra! In the
political arena, Lech Walesa rings a bell. Unions at one time in history
freedomized America. Now though the workers are sodomized by stockholders
wanting more. We could use a man with Lech’s character. You don’t find many
romances with modern day “big” name politicians or statesman. Lets face it.
Bill Clinton turned the Whitehouse into a Whorehouse with his Monica affairs.
And with George, I am glad the building custodians installed a diaper changing
room next to the oval office. For the senior I am talking about, but it has
come in handy for our most recent president. But that doesn’t mean influential
people are not out there. Hey, if I can find a “living” person to answer a
question about how my health coverage plan works, be it an influential human! I
once wrote a short story about a “Good Man”. He was a cherished friend and a
definite influence. The “friend” aspect takes on a lot of different reasons –
for instance, Viagra. As far as the “influence” aspect? What else but fishing
secrets! We had many years of unforgettable association. From growing families
to kids off to college to growing older and bolder if not balder. So if I had
to answer that question right off the cuff, this “Good Man” would be in the
running. But another individual has beat him in that race. And it is this guy’s
son – his only son. Hey, my son and daughter have been an influence to my own
trials and tribulations of life. Just the fact that both have graduated from
college was way beyond my advanced educational dreams and expectations. And how
about my wife? Who has put of with me for how many years now? But it is
probably unfair to name a close family member as one’s most influential person
- biases! My “Good Friend’s” son Dennis was born with Down’s Syndrome. I ran
into Dennis and his mom the other day at the market. School had started once
again and Dennis was entering his junior year at high school. It was after
school hours and Dennis had just taken his “written” driver’s test. His mom was
a little upset that he had failed the test. Dennis didn’t seem to mind. Smiling
like he didn’t have a care in the world, right at that moment. Hey, my daughter
failed that same test. And the first actual road-driving test was a total
nightmare because she got the instructor from hell! The one all the
non-speaking English people avoided. Really, they bring coaches into the DMV to
assist in their efforts to get that license. I think the coach acts as a
diversion. And you know what, these newcomers are probably better drivers then
most Americans. If you ever saw “traffic” in some other countries, you see how
we really have it made. In some places around the globe, you have to be a
defiant defensive driver. Forget that cell-phone! If not, you will be stalled
in the exit ramp forever! Now nobody can expect Dennis to become a freewheeler
behind the wheel. Maybe a little bit of action here and there when weather
conditions permit, but with caution, as the roads in Anchorage are dangerous!
Anyway, Dennis has influenced my life. He once taught me a little secret. It
occurred some years ago. It had to do with fishing. That secret was planted as
a seed. Now even with the varying degrees of handicaps associated with Down’s
Syndrome, Dennis has achieved notoriety amongst his peer group. And also to
those, like myself, associated with his friendship. First as a good bowler. On
top of that, he is a little Larry Byrd when it comes to the hoops. But it is
with the fishing – fly fishing – that gains my respect. The secret seed of that
fishing lesson was more or less like a parable. It had a meaning. We were out
and about the streams of the Kenai River drainage system. The salmon had played
out their contribution to survival of the fittest, so we were after the
world-class trout. This occurs in the fall when the turning leaf adds another
degree of grandeur to the prettiest country on earth. Turning Leaf is also a
good wine! Now everybody has his or her own particular if not peculiar way to
bait and hook a fish. But this one interesting time watching Dennis revealed
something beyond a pass down pastime. See, Dennis learned the fishing routine
from his dad. But by now had developed his very own methods. I was just hanging
out enjoying the weather and watching Dennis catch fish. I wasn’t having much
luck. And the way the rest of the fishing party was spreading out, luck was
missing all around. Except for Dennis. Maybe it was more then luck. But all by
himself and time after time, he would land one. With each success, he would
always get my attention. I was the only one left around to enjoy his enjoyment.
Then I thought again. It wasn’t luck after-all, but technique. I asked him how
he was so lucky. Using the word “lucky” loosely. That was a mistake. He told me
right out it wasn’t luck. I was right with my original assessment, choice of
words not quite right. He laughed. He was serious. So what was it I asked him?
He then produced a very philosophical look on his face, you could see this
though the thought process in action. Then with a true and affectionate
sternness along with a truly humanly strength of patience, the answer was
forthcoming. He told me that you know on the first strike whether or not you
have hooked the fish. He said you can tell by the jerk. You can feel it. I
asked him what if it was just a nibble, how does one turn that into a catch. He
said the fish were just teasing. And if you don’t have that feeling, the
chances of landing a fish was just a waste of time. It basically boiled down to
being prepared up front with everything in line and ready to go. Then it
becomes an easy task at hand. I didn’t understand the value of this lesson
until several years later in life. Again, the secret given to me that day was
like a seed. Conditions foster growth. But the seed is always ready. You have
nibbles all through life. Some nibbles may turn into something. Most of the
time it is indeed just a tease. Then you have the fighters. It means a lot of
work and the outcome is not guaranteed. It follows that saying that one can win
the battle but loose the war. Or, one can choose one’s battles. So it was the
in between that allowed the most favorable outcome. And that position requires
preparation. With the proper preparation, it is almost as if luck is on one’s
side. So it wasn’t luck with Dennis when everybody else was striking out, it
was technique. And that technique required preparation. That is what I learned
from Dennis. Be prepared in life. And no matter what the task may be, know how
to recognize a win.
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Double-Dipping ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Alaska
should change the state license plate motto to the “Stupidity State”. Even with
all the “pork” that comes this way, it seems money makes this state stupider
and stupider with the convening of every congressional session. The first sin
of stupidity came when the state voted to establish residency on the red, white
and blue flag. This state was better off as a territory. The ultimate sin of
stupidity came when the oil companies performed rape on the state’s resources
and we said it felt good. Stupidity is going to let them do it once again. And
let them continue it for another 30-years. Really, based on how much money
arrives here from the U.S. Treasury Department, Alaska is a welfare state. That
rating is uncontested. Hey, the more “pork” that is needed, the sorrier the
case of welfare. Some states get very little welfare “pork”, as these states
are civilized. Maybe that is it, civilized! They can hold their own. We cannot.
See we seem to be stuck in the Stone Age. Roads are made of stone aren’t they?
And a road project here in Anchorage shows that the Neanderthal brain is alive
and well in the DOT design office. Really, who in their right mind, besides
Cro-Magnon thinking, would build a “Round-About”? It is a stupid. It is stupid,
stupid, stupid. No, it is beyond stupid. And to think that the Department of
Neanderthal Thinking is proposing yet another “Round-About”, it is
mind-boggling. The truckers were opposed to the Round-About after they realized
how difficult maneuvering would be. It is basically sounded in that age-old
theory about 2-pounds of shit in a 1-pound bag. But the truckers are modern day
thinkers, as they have figured out how to utilize their trucks intimidating
size to be “King of the Round-About”. It’s called “Double-Dipping”. The
truckers now maneuver their rigs through the maze by taking the center lane of
the two-lane thoroughfare. They basically make their own lane. Really, that
allows them freedom to get through this thing without worrying about some idiot
in the blind zone. A researcher’s report is testament that these types of
roadways offer up the worst case for fender benders. Because of the blind spots
inherent with the curvatures required. The most expensive type of accidents,
because of side hits. But not to worry, as there exists auto body repair shops
up and down the road from where this monster is located. Maybe the adjusters
had something to do with this? Now the state should install a few video cameras
around the Round-About. They already have this Mickey Mouse web site, looks
more like Pac-Man on meth. So why not add the live video to the site. For
entertainment purposes! It would be a waste of money, but this state is good at
that. It could be just like the “Rippys”, a way to bet, another form of money
wasting for laundering. Guys and gals, even truck-drivers, could sit around and
place bets on who was going to collide with whom. So beware South Anchorage,
the auto repair shops are coming your way. But there is a way to fix the cheap
wad DOT ridiculousness. Build a Wal-Mart. Yes indeed. This super-size me out of
my trailer has a mole in the Congress. They can get all kinds of money to
rebuild roads, in efforts to ease traffic in and out of their stores’ parking lots.
Meg-a-lots to make-a-lot is more like it. Did you know that Wal-Mart has become
such an American icon that “tailgate” parties are becoming part of the Saturday
morning shoppers’ get-together? Really, it is for those that can’t find the
time or energy or money to afford themselves a real game-out, party and all. So
this is the substitute. Soon we will have a new Wal-Mart, and within a few
years, the Round-About will be packed up and used as a confusing factor for the
bridges to nowhere. Really. We have money to build bridges to nowhere here in
Alaska. So the Round-About can be used to confuse the drivers. The plan is to
get the driving public through the toll booths, collect an arm or leg, then
turn them around in confusion so no one will ever have the opportunity to
investigate just where that bridge leads to. Actually, the bridge can just be a
mirage. So maybe the Round-About design is not that bad after all. Maybe our
representatives were planning for the future. I really doubt it! The
Round-About is just a cover-up for stupidity!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ SMUT Dealers ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Alaska,
we prefer doing things differently up here. Maybe it has something to do with
latitude effects, like a sickness that warps morality. Similar to altitude
brain disconnect effects. Morals, some
think it is merely a mushroom! Hey, there isn’t any of that stuff left when we
look towards our representatives. And morals missing leads to diseases, like
political nepotism. Along with numerous accounts of father “cheats” like son
“cheats” romances. It seems these diseases have mutated to the citizens. We
used to be survivalist and cherished the honor of being from the “Last
Frontier” state. Now we are a bunch of welfare recipients and the free money
makes for the biggest pervert state in the nation. Case in point. Over on 6th
Avenue just down the road from downtown Anchorage, a three-story building is
getting erected, for erections. Hey, land isn’t cheap. Especially around
Merrill “Medallion Foundation” Airfield. This is a foundation that steals money
away from the American taxpayers so rich people with a lot of money can go
play, not by car, but by plane. Being a pilot is no fun unless one owns a
plane. Aircraft is tremendously expensive. Anyway, when complete, this building
will be a Guiness record breaker. For what you ask? SMUT. See, this is the
dance club that makes a bundle with naked under-aged little girls. And the
clientele consists of a bunch of old perverts. Now old men commingling with
naked girls isn’t against the law, until alcohol plays into the equation that
extinguishes any possibility of morality. So to make it legal, to make a bundle
through the sale of booze, to have the little girls prance around naked, all it
takes is some assembly and a piece of glass in between, then it is perfectly
legal. This is something for Atlantis the Lost Continent. Remember that
movie? Now I guess the argument here is
the fact that a good lawyer can always find a loophole to take advantage of any
sin. It follows the Mobius strip. But what gets me, everybody with a smidgen of
intelligent realizes what that building is designed to house – namely SMUT. So
how in hell did the owners ever get a loan to build such a fantasy? Hey, to get
a loan, one must have a pretty detailed business plan. A banker’s loan officer
will know when your employees go to the bathroom, until you get the loan and
the interest paid off. They basically own it and own you. So what bank is
contributing to the degradation of our city? Maybe the president is a pervert
and this is going to be pervert central lets make business offers. Anyway, why
should not the bankers take advantage of this? Maybe they are just following in
the footsteps of our leaders. You know, maybe there will come a time when the
loan officer will just step up and say, NO! Can you imagine a bank denying a
SMUT factory a loan? It would be great news. Taking back America. But then
again, if the state can dole out cash to build stadium sized churches, maybe
the state can find a new and exciting business venture, SMUT.
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ The Good, the Bad, the
Ugly ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Hurricane
Katrina Count-up - Day 10: “Hey Browny, you doin a heck of a job down here”, said
George the boss a few days after the menace made landfall. Then the underling
was relieved of his duties - as boss over FEMA - and recalled back to
Washington. Some say to hide because of heat upon the present administration,
dereliction of responsibilities. Ever since 911, Washington was redesigned to
provide unaccounted for hiding places and escape tunnels. Really, some offices
have those fake revolving fireplace walls leading to secret rooms, just like in
the Three Stooges’ movies. Maybe that is where they are hiding? And the escape
rooms lead to tunnels that will eventually lead to TED. This is a project still
on the drawing board. It means Terrorist Escape Device and named after a senior
senile senator from Alaska. But many avoid the tunnels, as it is rumored that
Dick Cheney is the tunnel-Natzi. And some have mentioned that the smell of
mary-wants-ya lingers. They say it was from the construction crews. Anyway,
Brown became the first victim - the scapegoat - because he couldn’t stop God.
That is what the insurance companies are calling Kate, an act, as it relieves
this special interest of the duty to pay up. So maybe Mike is going into hiding
– can’t blame him. I am the first to admit that it is not time for the blame
game. Why? We have a zillion other things to worry about with this catastrophe.
So I give Mike Brown the “Good Guy” stamp of approval – for taking the heat and
walking away without a chipped shoulder. Hey, like everybody else, he was in
shock over this catastrophe. So that leaves us with the Bad Guy and the Ugly
Guy. And in the true American spirit, the scene is ripe for the emergence of
the bad men from the badlands and the ugliest of the ugly. Case in point: Some
guy from Florida is hawking gas powered electric generators down in the bayou
country. He has sold two semi-truck loads already. And this could be considered
just an opportunist capitalizing on capitalism. But here is where this guy gets
the “bad” stamp of approval. He bragged that the good thing about setting up a
business in areas totally destroyed was the fact that the National Guard was
around, and he was getting free meals. So here is a guy that is making a boodle
and taking advantage of free staples, when there are thousands of people that
need this food. According to authorities, supplies are already beginning to run
dry. And the outfit that supplies the MRE’s, well they want a premium to up
production! Two “Bad Guy” stamps of approval are recommended here. Now to the
ugly side. The refuge camps are where many outcasts ended up. Sure these
people, poor people, were left stranded by Katrina. So now they are housed in a
dome, in unfamiliar territory. The authorities have provided the necessities.
Like a P.O. Box, a play room for the kids, telephones. They get a meal. They have
a bedroll. They can have their daily bread and a shelter. But where to they get
privacy? Prisoners have more privacy then our displaced brothers and sisters.
Prisoners have privacy that allows conjugal visits. So our poor huddled masses
are now asked to endure a total alienation of privacy. And with months of more
of the same to come, hey what gives? This is un-American! This is the ugly side
of poverty. The lose of privacy. Now even though Ted Olson was that individual
who swore up and down the chambers of the high court that he could not find an
amendment or a loophole in the Constitution that guaranteed a right to privacy,
we have an understanding in this country that there exists an expectation of
such. And some states guarantee this right. In Alaska, it is a right. I don’t
know about Louisiana. Now Texas can do anything it wants too, as Tom Delay
doesn’t believe in constitutional rights unless you are rich. So maybe the
“good” award should go to the refuges. With that, I have to renege on the ugly
award. It is being recalled, and it goes to Barbara Bush. In fact, maybe the
citizens can muster enough signatures to get the hurricane renamed, “Barbara
the Ugly”. Now this beats it all. And one would thing that this next mentioned
atrocity could not and would not happen in the state that invented “no child
left behind”. See, some refuges are displaced in hotels, all around Texas. Now
hotels don’t have P.O. Box numbers for each room. So the refugees that have a
room and a shower and a continental breakfast that is costing the U.S.
government a buddle, well they still cannot get their children signed up to
attend a local school. An address is required, as part of the school
administration’s policy. And since the school board doesn’t meet until after
the first of the year, well a bunch of kids will indeed be left behind. Right
there in Texas!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ News Media IQ ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Lost
and found! An entire civilization of zero IQ homo-sapiens. If you are
considered a front liner affiliated with the news media, you may be part of
that missing link scientist have been so patiently searching about for. Missing
is your IQ, or any semblance of intelligence observable or measurable by modern
day standards. I just watched an interview with Dick Cheney, with the front
liners as his only audience. Now when this guy comes out of hiding, it is for
no other reason but for damage control. He is a successful CEO, has a daughter
who has come out of the closet, still loves her from the left and the right, so
he could write the book on how to handle any predicament. So what gives here?
Well most of the time, it is Dick who is in hiding and the limelight of ridicule
and distrust is on his boss, George. So the media front lines get stuck onto a
mindset to ask the simplest of questions. George knows what reporters to pick
on, the ones that won’t pick on him and arouse his kindergarten ego. They do
this out of respect, because it is very easy to confuse the commander in chief.
So over time and tired of a temper tantrum president, the news pundits had to
lower their standards of questioning. How come George is looking more and more
like Alfred E. Neumen? You know, MAD! Take a rechargeable battery. Over time,
it retains a memory wherein the voltage level remains at a very low reliability
factor. And to get a battery back to normal, it requires a short circuit,
called a crowbar by the experts, and then a fresh new recharge. So when George
messes up and goes into hiding, the big guns come out. Dick is shrewd. He knows
when to attack. He knows the media is memory stuck in the George Bush low IQ
mindset, so he can take full advantage of silly questions with intelligent
unquestionable and undeniable answers. I don’t know how Dick refrains from
breaking out in a laugh attack. I think that is what causes the mouth
fibrillations, like he is in a g-force testing machine. Or maybe it comes about
from playing out the acts of the Three Stooges, with Don and
Haster-have-something. You know, the guy that looks like Curly! I feel sorry
for the news media that has to lower themselves for George’s fake sake. You can
only blame yourselves though. Can you imagine if the only reporters that showed
up for a press conference at the lawn sharks office were the tabloid hounds?
But then maybe more people would understand what was going on “up on the hill”.
So next time, don’t forget the crowbar! Unless Homeland Security has
confiscated them all. And if the cold rolled steel thing is scary, there is a
good stiff drink called the Crowbar. It was made famous in Alaska, when
attorneys descended upon this once crime-missing city to spy on the oil
pipeline bosses who were spying on Congress. It is supposed to act just like a
truth serum. What drink doesn’t? The Crowbar: ½ measure Crown Royal + ½ measure
151 rum + ½ measure to-kill-ya. “Measure” means any container available! Enjoy telling the truth! PS: This drink
doesn’t work on politicians.
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ IFF ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
IFF?
It means if and only if. Something mathematicians thought of to confuse
us. As if math isn’t confusing enough, especially when those in the know mix
numbers with the alphabet. How can 1 + a = b? So what iff
Americans banded together and exercised an energy boycott. Hey, the Saudis did
it in the late 70’s. So what’s stopping us? Call it reverse sociology if you
want. I worked as an oil measurements expert for the Trans-Alaskan-Pipeline.
This beastly project allowed an 800-mile long steel pipeline to run from
Prudhoe Bay on the North Slope of Alaska all the way to Valdez, in Prince
William’s Sound. Believe it or not, Valdez allows for an ice free port, even in
the dead of an Alaskan winter. The pipeline runs across pristine wilderness.
The wilderness suffered tremendously with the construction efforts, especially
when over 20,000 workers descended upon the “Last Frontier” state to make a
killing. Literally! Some crime experts say that James Hoffa’s remains - the
Teamster boss - was sent down the line with the first barrel of oil! But the
wilderness recovered, Jimmy’s body was never recovered. Everything was pretty
calm for many years up here in Alaska, until a tanker full of oil went aground
in the sound! The bottom line, the supply and demand theory can easily become
the supplier be damned theory. It used to be that refineries were segregated
away from crude oil suppliers - a middleman after muddleman mentality business.
With an insecure and uncontrolled infrastructure from supply to demand, each
entity had to depend only on itself and would deal with the necessities of existence
from various sources. It meant independence. SOHIO found out that corralling
the market from oil field to the corner gas station pumps showed what
anti-trust could do to a good name. This once American icon made Alaska what it
is today. This not to long ago icon was robed of its glory and gone now is its
importance at making this nation stronger – with respect to energy
independence. This icon’s assets were eventually taken over by a British
corporation, after Uncle Sam pulled the plug. Hey, can foreigners take the
profits made in this country away from American? In Alaska, the resources
belong to the people. Maybe there’s a check in the mail. It scared the dickens
for awhile, the anti-trust thing, but the oil to gasoline cartels didn’t want
mediocre independence. They bargained for total independence without fear of
breaking existing laws. So anti-trust laws were scaled back. And nowadays, the
guys that find the oil and sell the gasoline all wear the same cap.
Anti-truancy it is, as the watchtower has been taken over by the crooks! This
greed may have opened up the opportunity that could provide a thorn in the side
of business. The supply and demand scenario is successful because consumers -
the driving force - make it work. All the efforts up front to make it work are
based on the end results – consumption. It is a tight wound affair, and one
missing beat can spell disaster. It works well like a smooth running machine as
long as constipation doesn’t set in. Disruptions anywhere along the line can
cause the price to whack out of control. So the consumer holds the reigns,
basically a means to constipate the system. But we have never exercised the
option. If we go on a gasoline “no buy” binge, the gears of motion will have to
be slowed down to offset our demands. But the present day system is not
equipped to slow down. It can’t with any semblance of legitimacy. So lets try
it. If we could refrain from using gasoline for as little as one week, the
price of crude oil would nose dive. The price of gasoline would be under our
control. We could play a game with the oil suppliers and actually control our
own destiny. If the price starts up, bog down. It is that simple. We forget
just how much control we have over the entire scene. It seems I am not the only
American that thinks it is time for a boycott. Riley the Fox thinks so also. He
has proposed “no gas” Sundays for at least a month. Not a bad idea. It used to
be a law, no sales on Sundays. On the books it was referred to as the “blue”
laws. Besides outlawing sales, it banned other disrupting activities. Lawn
mowers, weed whackers, keep the beasts in the shed or pay a fine. For places
like the Mart from Wall-to-Wall heading from sea to shinning sea, it meant
lights out. In fact, in some rural towns, driving after church and pancakes was
also a no-no. It was quiet time for everyone. It was energy conservation. So
lets all buckle down and buck the system. Sure the board-room bandits will
scream damage control to the underlings. But for a short duration, we could have
them by the goudas. This was written on a Sunday, so one must refrain from
bashful words. Lets try it, and you will see what power you have left as an
individual American! We haven’t lost it yet. Do you realize that a “Workers
Union” would lower you medical bills astronomically? In a study, it meant scary
results if all workers in American banded together under one union. It meant a
worst-case scenario for the world economy run by the Martian – that jolly green
giant. Remember, “We are the people”. We are the ones who can indeed make for a
better world!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Oh Happy “Iraqi”
Day ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
The
Iraqi constitutional vote had a 78% voter turnout! Oh happy day. Lets play on
that number, just a little. First and foremost, there is a war going on over
there. People didn’t let that little annoyance - like car bombs and suicide
bombers - interfere with the democratic process. So as bullets rained down upon
the citizens, it still wasn’t enough to discourage the yes or no voter turnout.
It was just that. No pictures of corrupt smiling senators, just a simple yes,
we do want to approve a constitution or no, we would rather have a Big Mac franchise.
Now here in America, dam if it rains even a teensy weensy little amount, people
stay away from the polling places. In fact, the weatherman’s forecast has a lot
to do with the turnout. And after a hard day at work followed by that two-hour
drive home, hey we would rather be couch potatoes. So that daily exertion in
effect causes the national average for voter turnout in America, after
disenfranchising is approved by election officials from Florida, well the
turnout is about 24%. Mind boggling to say the least. So what does it really
mean? I guess it means the citizens of Iraq are finally tired of years and
years of incompetent leadership and now have embraced democracy. So in a
nutshell, the U.S. helped topple Insane Hussein, a constitution was proposed
and the vote to accept it had an un-expectantly high voter turnout. Oh happy
days! Now Americans blew it. There exists now more then ever an ever increasing
rhetoric over when and if the troops will be coming home. One guy says this,
another guy in the know trumps that with a 360-degree different know it all
answer. And the expert on the matter of an exit strategy, Collin Powell, well
he must have the muzzle on, or a muzzle loaded up and pointed his direction.
Either way, it is the silent treatment. Anyway, this was our chance. When the
election was proposed, we the people, we the citizens, we should have demanded
that if the voter turnout was a success, then it was time to bring home the
troops. Just think about it. We could have been having ticker-tape parades,
right now, in every major city. By the way, now that ticker-tape is a thing of
the past, what do we use as a replacement? Anyway, the election is over. So now
what? Well how about monkey see monkey do. Lets have a revolution in this
country. The troops can head back this way to topple yet another administration
that doesn’t seem to know what in hell they are doing. Then we can re-write the
constitution. I mean present day government lawyers - sometime called saliva
generals - seem to believe that the designers of the constitution didn’t know
what they were doing some 200 years ago. Maybe so, when you try to bridge time
gaps with equity, things are different now. So lets re-write the thing. Think
about it. This plan will allow the troops to come home, and then we get to
write up our own Big-Mac menu, without all those side condiment amendments that
has set the country off on a course of neglect and political obesity. Maybe the
time has come to learn not from our mistakes, but from our good deeds. Oh, this
plan won’t work. See, the Iraqis were allowed to cast their votes on a Sunday.
A long time ago, that was proposed in this country as a means to strengthen the
obligation that each and every vote counted. It was proposed by a six-grade
debate team. Statistics proved that a voter turnout on a Sunday would be
drastically higher, by some 50%. But that is not what the people who go around
chanting, “and to the Republic for which it stands” wanted to occur. Having a
Sunday vote was a way to indeed enforce democracy. And mind you that the
preachers may not get their daily “bread” if the pews went empty. It was never
approved. Low voter turnout works to the incumbent’s advantage. So as the
citizens of Iraq bath in a freedom that we see less and less of every day here
in my America, maybe someday they can help us out. That means maybe we need a
statue, of you all know who! Heard a good one the other day by a renowned
writer. The only good thing coming out of the oval office these days is oval
sex. Democracy according to the WEB: 1) a government by the people; 2) a
government vested by the people and exercised by them directly or indirectly
through a system of representation; 3) a common people; 4) the absence of
hereditary, nepotism or arbitrary class distinction or privileges. Now I like
the #1 definition. The #2 definition is good, as in this day and age of modern
high-speed computer communicating, I don’t need a representative. I prefer the
“direct” method. But one of those side amendments forbids “direct” representation.
It protected the “crooks”, the senators and representatives. Now definition #3,
“Common people?” And last but not least, behind door #4? Cronyism, nepotism,
hey that is what Alaska is all about. I guess we missed out on democracy when
we voted against territorialism, just some 50 years ago. No, we started out
with democracy. But the representatives, like Billy Goat and Ted the Hulk, and
do nothing Frank, who gave up his senate seat to become governor, they have
derailed the train that was bound for glory. Hey, is that new senator, the one
that grabbed up Frank’s seat of any relation, they have the same last name?
It’s his daughter. Talk about a derailed train, more like a train wreck!
Democracy missing? The curse of death.
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Jerk What? ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
I was
jerked away from a pleasant morning stalled wake-up by a radio station take
about a project at - wow - Massachusetts Institute of Technonononology. In
Alaska, we don’t have an elitist research institute. But we spend more money on
the necessities of unnecessary research – funded by Senator Porknoid. So yes,
we do have a notable research agenda, the Alaska Institute of Insanity. Some
guy named Hulk runs the place. But he is clinically depressed so I believe he
spends his time reciting the constitution back in D.C. Anyway, this project had
something to do with what is called the
“Jerk-o-meter”. Do we really have money to waste on such “roid” when
women in this country still succumb to breast cancer at alarming rates? Anyway,
this project was designed to analyze the speech pattern of cell phone users, in
efforts to grade one’s level of grammar – or something to that effect. Supposedly,
that level is important as to the clarification of the message one is actually
trying to communicate. So with a few extra bucks tagged to one’s monthly cell
plan, it meant instant English teacher! Hey Mr. Scientist, I think your
thinking is way off basis. I will use a theory postulated at the Institute of
Insanity to get to the point. Here it is in a nutshell. If using a cell phone
whiling driving – a jerk! If using a cell phone while shopping – a jerk. If
one’s cell phone rings at the opera – a jerk! See, my jerk-o-meter doesn’t need
a fancy algorithm to decipher someone else’s bullshit. Algorithms! Isn’t that a
fancy name for a blender? Does it really produce something that can rely on
backtrack accounting to double check the end results? Of course not! It is like
using one of those word processor “auto-fix” routines. It changes one’s
mindset. I think that is what happened when the present administration
presented the war plans for the Iraqi invasion. The algorithm produced “mission
accomplished”, but before the mission was accomplished. And you can never get
the routine to re-produce the original content of a script the way it was
intended. So we - historians - will never really now what the intent was with
the invasion. Like who said do it. And some algorithms have sub-algorithms that
use statistics to smooth the results. Smoothing is a fancy way of saying,
“cheat”. It uses things like outlier rejection criteria. Basically, if a basket
of oranges showed up with an apple, the apple would be tossed out. As it
doesn’t have any relevance to the overall contents, thus it is called an
“outlier”. I prefer to call the outlier an outlaw. That is what happened to the
Bush men’s war. The Powell doctrine was considered an “outlaw”, as it existed
inside the realm of common sense, and for all his worth, any exit strategy was
rejected. So in the end, we ended up with a war plan that had some pieces
missing. Like, “When will Johnny come marching home?” Hey, the jerk-o-meter is
alarming! What was that George? Cant’ comprehend. I remember when the first
word processors appeared. Before home computers became popular and only
available on work-site office computers – like IBM. There was one program
called PROFS. Now it would correct your grammar, at the level specified. Well
everybody started having the program correct for PHD level, like we were all so
smart. Hey, we were only pipeline workers. Anyway, nobody could understand what
the message was supposed to mean and work almost came to a standstill. In the
end, the statisticians, they decided that level four was the most appropriate
level for the pipeline workers. But come to find out, it was that outlier thing
again. Most of the pipeline workers had a level six intellect, high school or
higher. But six was too advanced, and still not understandable. It was the
management that required lowering that level to the four score. So maybe the
jerk-o-meter could provide some insight on something of interest, like national
security breaches. Just think of this thing as a political action election time
tool? But you know what would happen, there would only be one allowed, and
guess what party would get to use it? What’s that? Oh, come to find out the
sensitivity could not be adjusted to be used on politicians, something about once
a jerk, always a jerk.
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Scouts’ Dishonor ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Many
Alaskan’s were shocked when this state lost four scout leaders this past
summer. They had volunteered their services to take the local troops to the
“big” jamboree somewhere down south. Close to D.C., as George was supposed to
deliver a pep talk. But a catastrophe changed the gung-ho mood to one of sorrow
and disbelief. During a lightening storm, the leaders were doing their thing
and giving a helping hand to some outfit that was hired to erect a giant tent.
The good old days of wooden poles are gone. Nowadays, light-weight aluminum
makes the erection task pretty easy. Aluminum conducts electricity! Alaska
ended up with four dead leaders. I believe that has left a void here in Alaska,
for leaders I am talking about. I used to be a scout. But the troop was
disbanded after a coup. I had a brother who was pretty radical. Anyway, we were
at a camp out. This was back in the 60’s. It was autumn and a nasty wind had
descended upon us like the wicked witch wailing upon Toto. Come to find out,
when the leaders couldn’t get a fire started, they resorted to a secret weapon
called firewater - alcohol. They were caught red-handed. My brother wasn’t
going to let this one go, because as brothers, we had witnessed one to many sad
affairs with a relative’s drinking problem. So when we found ourselves back in
town, it was time to spill the beans. Soon we were without leaders. Well we
couldn’t find anybody who would take the job, now that the firewater was
banned. So we went by ourselves. There was plenty of country across the Ten
Mile River that could entertain our urge to be free in nature. We had an
outdoors Thanksgiving, it was like the real thing. Anyway, we found that we
could get along fine without the older men’s leadership. In fact, we never had
a problem lighting a fire, without the firewater! And let’s face it, everything
was in the brown book. But eventually, without leaders, it meant an end to
Troop 20. Now since Alaska lost some seasoned leaders, it seems the
replacements may be what I had come accustomed to in my years with the troops
way back when. Maybe not from the binging aspect, but missing true leadership
qualities. Here is why. I was out at one of the Chugach Mountain trail heads
when a truck pulled-up with a trailer carrying a 4-wheeler. Now everybody
understands that motorized vehicles are banned form the woods in the city
limits. First, it is disruptive to the animals. Secondly, it is disruptive to
the people who enjoy the peace and quiet not to far and removed from the hustle
and the bustle of city life, especially on a Sunday morning. So just what the
hell was going on here? There stood around a few other bikers and hikers
preparing to enjoy the day, but is seems everybody had the same thing on the
mind. What were these idiots doing? And by this time, one guy was unloading the
4-wheeler. One individual decided to inquire about the use of the motorized
vehicle. Now every so often one may find a fish and feathers ranger out and
about on a neck breaker, but that is only when there is reason that allows
motorized vehicle trespassing. Anyway, another guy that was part of the out of
place group explained that they were going to ferry some supplies for the eagle
scouts. It had something to do with a special project. Now we all know that
community projects are part of the merit badge requirements, so this sort of
activity could be allowed. The 4-wheeler was loaded up with some sauna tubes,
some hand tools and a container of gas. Why the extra gas was a mystery. Maybe
it was a long haul and the extra gas was required. As I started my walk, the
buggy took off, equipment and men hanging off in a haphazard manner. Soon, the
sound of the straining beast was lost. But no sooner, the sound of gas-powered
equipment startled the air. Now the ferrying expedition destination was no
farther then about a quarter of a mile from the main parking lot! And the
project consisted of erecting some trail signs. The sound that freaked the
ravens came from a post-hole digger. Now this was ridiculous. First and
foremost, the sauna tubes maybe weigh in at 5-pounds. And they are designed to
easily accommodate being carried on a shoulder. Get the scouts off their butts
and have them carry that stuff. And using a gas-powered digger is beyond
ridiculous. Get the scouts off of their butts and hand dig the holes. Now I was
irate after witnessing this beyond ridiculous. It was evident that true
leadership was missing. But maybe the Boy Scouts have changed. They may have
been forced to change, especially with the present fiasco over gays. Since the
board of directors is defiant to discriminate against gays, that stand has
caused some heat from diversity organizations. So with friction from outside
and afraid over lawsuits, the lawyers now control the firewater. So I am
willing to bet that the lawyers - those with merit badges in sleaze - had the
Scouts change the organizations name, to Boy Scouts of America, LLC. This
Limited Liability Corporation bullshit used to bother me. Somebody has to hold
responsibility to liability. But of course, if our leaders in D.C. can exercise
immunity, then businesses should also be free to operate in the atrocity mode,
by claiming LLC. Monkey see, monkey do mentality. With that in mind, I have
become an LLC, Limited Liability Citizen. Does anybody remember the scout’s
honor? Saw an interesting help “Wanted Ad” the other day. Wanted Leaders: SAP
experience a plus!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Alaska’s
Elephant Mania ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Even though
Alaska remains a wilderness state with bears, moose, caribou, eagles and
mosquitoes bigger then this nation’s honorary symbol of strength, we also enjoy
elephants. You will never see a fat moose. They are always on the run from
Texans playing Davy Crocket or Daniel Boone. But then again, maybe these
transplants from the “smaller” state can’t read the hunting regulations.
Remember, Texas was the “no child left behind” state of experiment. In Alaska,
we have a saying, “The Long Horn state is the long gone state”. See, Alaska
competes with Texas, for size and oil and politically crooked senators. We
beat’m! Now brown bears may look a little on the over-weight side, but when
they get running at a 35-mile per hour clip in your direction, the bulge is just
a mirage - it is pure muscle! But for elephants in Alaska, it means beasts in
captivity. Annabel, the first zoo-keeper, she passed away not to long ago. They
placed the flags at half-mast in her honor. Now we have to deal with Maggie.
According to zoo authorities, Maggie has been depressed since her friend
Annabel passed away. Our senior senile senator also gets depressed. Maybe his
condition has to do with Annabel. See, Alaskans receive enormously more then
their fair share of pork. It is basically not fair for the rest of America – no
taxpayer left behind! In fact, all the other states should sue this state. I
would testify on their behave. Then again, maybe the elephants were included in
the census that allows appropriations to be misappropriated. At 20000 pounds,
that is the equivalent of at least 100 populace counts, using modern day
standards of cataloging. That is like 200 republican votes using a Tom Delay
voting machine. Time for redistricting! Maybe Texas does beat us in the crooks
count. By the way, which party uses the elephant as their icon? Alaska’s
elephants live at the zoo, in Anchorage. Used to be a nice place, now it has
become a tourist trap. Anchorage, the “big” city, has two major problems.
Rapists are alive and well. And we have obesity! In fact, on the Anchorage
Municipality web site, there is a series report from the “Obesity Task Force”
and a hotline. I didn’t see anything about the rape problems. Lisa used it in
her campaign, scared the dickens out of me. And I live here. Tourist beware! I
think Lisa said she was going to address the problem, but we have to build
bridges to nowhere first. Getting back to the problem of concern – obesity.
Hey, the way fast food outfits crop up to outfit the suit, well it is not hard
to see why obesity has become America’s leading cause of making millionaires
out of politicians. Really, most of them get re-elected enough times to make a
million dollars and the extra millions come when they retire and become CEO’s
of special interests. In Alaska, 58% of the people are overweight and
approaching obese status. For kids entering kindergarten, it means 32% are in
the “big” size category – pretty gory! I think obese people should pay a
no-value added consumption tax. Their big bad eating habits cost the U.S. taxpayer
$75-billion dollars in 2003. We could have used the money for bridges to
nowhere! Anyway, Maggie the elephant has a weight problem. But a solution is
blowing in the wind! Remember, the mayor is concerned about the citizens’
health. So that is why the belief that Maggie was counted in the last census is
more then a possibility and a probability. We have a solution for Maggie that
may be an experiment that will benefit all in need. Maybe money for this ridiculousness came from the “pork” barrel.
Anyway, Maggie has a treadmill. It is just like a bridge to nowhere! Now this
is a specially designed treadmill. It weighs in at 16000 pounds. It is 20-feet
long, and has a 5-foot wide conveyor belt. It can reach speeds up to 8-miles an
hour! It comes equipped with a big-screen TV displaying an African savannah. So
Maggie may be on the way to a healthier lifestyle. Kudos to the mayor’s
“Obesity Task Force”! Wrong. Seems the efforts to install the treadmill
required a complete re-design of the elephant’s house. It lasted almost the
entire summer, which in Alaska lasts maybe about 3 months. I guess elephants
don’t like changes to their environment. The distractions caused her to stress
out. She lost a 1000 pounds! Seems the zoo here in Anchorage has come up with
the miracle solution for obesity. It is called stress. And all it takes is some
remodeling plans to incorporate that “bridge to nowhere”. So maybe I should
give our politicians credit where credit is due. Maybe “pork” funded “bridges
to nowhere” is a secret weapon that will disrupt everybody’s life and the
stress-out workout will lead everybody to shed the flab! Now as far as the
rapist? Oh, just saw Lance Armstrong and Maria Shriver talking about a
California “Obesity Task Force”, or something to that effect. This lady gives
me the shivers! More like a scene of “Tales from the Crypt”. Hey this lady
needs something on those bones. I think she can actually scare people into
obesity! Arnold, are you on one of those bridges to nowhere?
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Job Interview ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
I
went for a job interview the other day. That came about after many vain attempts
to make it past the chopping block. And I am educated and experienced in the
oil and gas industry. In fact, at one time in my career, I was considered the
best technician in Alaska working on the pipeline. I am just a little over
fifty, so maybe age has something to do with the “Sorry, but no thanks”
rejection letters arriving in my mail box on a daily basis. A recent layoff has
made the search necessary. Just too early for retirement. And un-employment is
good for Budweiser, nothing else. I worked at a military base power plant. The
plant is awaiting the wrecking ball. Now this was not one of the bases
earmarked for closure. This is one of the most important Air Force bases still
protecting the Pacific Rim. It is a growing military presence. So why is the
power plant shutting down some readers may ask? Isn’t electrical power required
to light the runways? Sure. The plant is shutting down because of senator
special interest stuff my pockets screw my fellow man. Here is how it works.
Reader discretion is advised because this information could indicate criminal
activity and if you make something of it you may end up in the witness
protection program – it can’t be fun! Anyway, somebody with one-vote but stroke
decided it was better to “privatize” military housing at this one particular
base. So the stroker found somebody that helped get this land is your land,
this land is my land sequestered away from the military proper to build new
homes. Then the troops could rent the high priced shingled shelters painted a
drab tan and the government would have to subsidize what the measly paid
defenders of freedom couldn’t afford. Now, when the city said it was now
private land and should be taxed, just like any other property, they had a
point! Military property is exempt, private not. But the owners went running to
D.C. and now have property taxation immunity. But if a fire breaks out, the
city has to respond because the military said its not part of the base anymore?
So I loose my job so an investment outfit owned by friends of the senator can
rip-off the military families, get immunity from taxation and at the same time
rip-off Uncle Sam for living subsidies. Sounds like three strikes your out!
This is a true story. The power plant that is getting demolished is still a
perfectly operational plant and very efficient because it burns natural gas.
But there is nothing I can do because I also have one-vote but no stroke. So I
am out of work! Thanks Ted. Anyway, as I go through the rigmarole of a job
interview in line with a hundred other ex-union workers, the job prospects seem
pretty dim. Employers shun away from ex-union people, part of the degradation
efforts to deregulate a decent wage. They believe that once a union supporter
always a union backer. But the interview process is typical for all of us, even
for that guy Roberts interviewing for Rehnquist’s job on the Supreme Court. He
gets questioned on legal issues, he takes the 5th. I get a question
about turbine generators and the answer takes 5-minutes - no copouts allowed.
Another question, the 5th. For myself, another exhaustive answer.
Job hunting sucks! I used to tell my son just after graduating from college
that it is a good experience – looking for a job. I was wrong, he was right. I
wish somebody would give me an interview where every answer was the 5th!
So I am still looking. And as our next Supreme Court Chief Justice interviews
for a lifelong job, I interview for a job that has a 90-day review period and
then the 180-day review or subject to a review anytime the management deems it
necessary. And being an “at will” employee, it means termination can happen
anytime. What a convenience, taking the 5th! So as I continue to be
honest and don’t buck the system, I guess Budweiser will do. It probably means
champagne for the judge and his wife. Just what is the Supreme Court anyway,
besides a presidential selection committee? Lets see what Webster has to say.
“The highest legislative body consisting of two chambers one of which
represents the overall population and the other the constituent republicans.”
Egad, this is amazing. This is exactly how our present day tribunal works. But
my eyesight is a little skewed as this is the definition of the “Supreme
Soviet” – just one down from what I was looking for. Regardless, it rings a
bell of truthfulness of how segregated the court as become in favor of
constituent republicans. But the “supreme court” is the highest judicial
tribunal. Tribunal is defined as “a forum of justice based on public opinion”.
Considering the fact that justice is missing and also the public seems to be
AWOL, then we have, “a forum based on opinion”. I guess Supreme Soviet makes
sense. Enjoy your job Mr. Roberts and keep your opinions to yourself. By the
way, maybe the high court can outlaw unemployment and stroked senators!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Comic Relief ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Anchorage
- the uno newspaper town. About the only thing worth reading is the obituary
section. It is awful that so many women succumb to breast cancer – most at an
early age. If we stopped wasting taxpayer money just here in Alaska, I am
convinced that a cure would be forthcoming. And for myself, the reading of this
section is because of an age discrimination necessity, as I am starting to see
more and more stories about ex-pipeline coworkers – getting somewhat up there
in age. And most of us were subject to horrendous amounts of BETX fumes while
working on the pipeline. So death at an early age does not come from obesity,
but a male reserved form of cancer. Now the paper comes to one’s door in this
orange plastic bag. Many dog owners recycle the bag to scoop the poop. I found
it works, but just as well keep the paper in the bag, why exchange crap for
more crap? Really, if it wasn’t for the comic relief that the Daily provides,
it is better off as a platform for compiling Number 2. It has become funnier
then the super-market tabloids. Why can’t this article of free speech be like
one of the big time papers? Like found in most big cities. Hey, Anchorage is a
big city! There exists some real good
“black on white” out there. But with a one-paper town and a republican
mentality akin to lemmings, there exists no competition. Who really cares what
is happening. We just follow our leaders. A one-paper town is truly
un-American! So lets see what kind of crap we have today. Wow, this is really
interesting. A guy named Persily was just named the paper’s editorial editor.
He once owned a paper down in Wrangel, so he is familiar with the “hot off the
press – read all about it” scene. With that in mind, I guess he is qualified.
But what’s with this time spent as the “Number 2” with the Revenue Department?
He quotes the “Number 2”. Its usage rings a bell. What does this guy know about
revenue? Especially up here in Alaska, the state that wrote the book on
complicating matters of economics. But it all goes to show that the bag
stuffing works as a cover. Really, what is the bag really covering up, a bad
newspaper or “Number 2”? Alaska is a welfare state. For almost 30 years now,
the oil companies have raped this state for its resources. OUR CONSTITUTION
stipulates that the resources belong to the citizens. According to the
“Revenue” department gurus, we only own about 12% of the resources when it
comes out of the ground – like crude oil for instance. Something is wrong with
this scene. This valuable commodity doesn’t shrink that much going through the
permafrost layer! So when I hear that a news hound was part of the “Revenue”
department then heads back to journalism, it makes sense that the oil companies
are still in control of my oil. Then again, back to his roots may be a miracle
in the making wherein someone realizes that an appointed “cushion” job doesn’t
necessarily mean an individual is qualified. Just ask Mike Brown, one-time head
of FEMA. He knew something about horses. Hey, maybe the ex-revenue guy can help
us out with the oil royalty stuff, with a few “Extra, Extra, Read all about it”
punches detailing the mystery of the “missing” oil. In efforts at getting the
citizens to come to attention. Actually, it isn’t a mystery at all. The oil
companies are a bunch of crooks and the boardroom barons have convinced our
elected officials that they are not in office to represent the citizens but big
business. This has something to do with the trickle down theory. It becomes the
wilted down theory in practice. Take California for a comparison. With a guy
like Arnold at the helm, the state maintains control over the resources. The
“Revenue” department rakes in a 50% royalty. That’s OK. I would be happy with
that because in reality it would boost my yearly dividend by a whooping 300%.
Sounds like a Ben good investment scheme! Actually, the damn state welfare give
out programs should be curtailed. The Federal welfare bailout should also be
curtailed. Just how many years have we failed at getting rid of the “Honey
Bucket”? Isn’t that what the so-called Denali Commission is all about? Anyway,
without Federal assistance, the state would go broke. Then this state is your
state this sate is my state could fix the economic deficiencies by taking
control, over the oil companies raping mindset. Hey if they don’t like the Swartznagger Reality Royalty, then lets pack their bags and send
them back to the island. But we have now and have had a bunch of weaklings at
the helm of the Juneau since the Bush Rat retired. Whining Alaska is the
winning welfare state. Ask any senator – like John MaCain. We get a bunch of
money from Uncle Sam when it should be money the state gets from the resources.
To make matters worse off, a British Limy owns the biggest oil producer and a
majority of the pipeline. Now many may ask how a foreign entity garnished so
much power on American soil and makes off with the “American peoples
resources”. They stole assets from SOHIO, when the Fed.’s told this American
icon that the law of anti-trust was shutting them down. Some laws don’t apply
to Royalty. If you don’t believe me, why do we not see the skyline logos of
SOHIO or ARCO over the city of Anchorage anymore? The saddest of days in my
time in the “Last Frontier” state was when the crane laid the ARCO namesake to
rest. And up in Prudhoe Bay, at the base camp, a weathered outline of the SOHIO
logo remains forever. So I hope Number 2 doesn’t get runny on us. Maybe it is
already working. Front page of the daily has an article by the “Wall Street
Journal”. Wow, but no bow-wow here. It has to do with rich people wasting money
on in-home aquariums. This is it. As Katrina’s displaced poverty stamped
American’s face economic tragedy, why post an article like this? And then wait
until 10 pages later to talk about the important things. The Daily’s priorities
follow a mindset that makes one want to puke. Furthermore, do some research
before posting imposter articles, like read the words between the lines. One of
the bastards that can afford a $400,000.00 fish tank owns an import business.
From my experience, I would say it is an import that used to be an American
business and now exercises a worship against workers rights and a wage that
will make more poor people. I bet the fish will have better treatment then
poverty people. Hey, there is poverty. Do we need more disasters to root it
out? And I am willing to bet that this bastard pays “zero” taxes and gets a
return. The Daily continues to not-impress this reader. So come Sunday, the
paper will remain in the orange bag and if there is room, maybe my dog’s crap will find a home. But the
Sunday paper is big, so the saying may be true. How many pounds of Number 2 in
1-pound bag? The Daily has beat the laws of physics. My neighbor flies the
American flag, rain or shine. He runs his own business. He lives in a
$300,000.00 home. He has turned his house lot into a parking lot. For the boat,
that is not part of his business but considered an asset. For the 4-bay covered
trailer plus snow-machines that is not part of the business but considered an
asset. For the riverboat, not part of the business but considered an asset. In
reality, this guy pays “zero” taxes also. Mr. Chinook allowed me a peak at his
tax return form one day last year. I don’t get it. Having a paper with no
meaning is like this guys fake patriotism. This guy is ripping off his fellow
man. A disgusting paper no different. So maybe the true American way is ripping
off your fellow man just like the oil companies are doing to each of us each
and everyday. Look at the price of crude oil? Look at the price of gasoline?
And we have not a single representative or icon that is making a fuss over it.
Except Riley on FOX. That is the kind of article that should be headline news,
“Riley calls for BOYCOTT”. But the bosses who give us this day our Daily crap
are stool stuck and believe that you can’t bite the hand that feeds you! The
tabloids know more about what is happening around the world then does this
local piece of crap. They may fabricate the truth of the matter a little bit,
but if you read between the lines!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Alaskan Science Lesson ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Science
Lesson #1: What is the Beaufort Scale? This is a wind force scale that uses
visual observations to determine the magnitude of prevailing winds. Why we
don’t use it seems to be for no other reason other then the fact that we are
all, “adults left behind”! It is one of those things that makes simple sense,
so it mustn’t be used. Senators don’t want us to understand anything, even
traffic lights and speed limit signs, as to do so may lead to a trend that
could stymie that “question authority” era all over again. And when adults
start questioning, we demand answers. An understanding of things may lead us to
an understanding of where our tax money disappears too. Like somebody’s back
pocket! Has to be going somewhere inappropriate, as the pay for the defenders
of our freedom - our military - their take home pay for being away from home is
less then minimum wage. Back to the science. See right here in Anchorage, it is
not unusual to have unpredicted “Chinooks”. This comes about by the wicked Hulk
of the north getting mad at his fellow senators for questioning his depression,
he blows up and the yelling produces winds that descend down upon us. Seems to
be happening quite frequently. Actually, with incoming 30-foot ocean tides
throttling through the choke hole called Turnagain Arm, the bottle-neck causes
an uplift of warm ocean currents that collide with the colder glacier air
currents. The competition is fierce. So like party line politicians, the forces
join and a normal day can bring a Beaufort 10. Hey, if we could prove that the
winds were caused by disgruntled politicians, would that make us eligible for
FEMA cash? It is not an act of God. Anyway, a Beaufort 10 is a visual where
trees can be uprooted and become airborne. A Beaufort 5 means small trees
swaying about. Originally, it all had to do with the sails of fighting ships. A
Beaufort 5, as defined by Rear-Admiral Sir Francis Beaufort, was that
wind-force sufficient that a well-conditioned man-of-war could just carry chase
in a single-reefed sail. It is all based on the “well-conditioned man-of-war”.
A 10, “she could scarcely bear close-reefed main-topsail”. Meaning? A 12, “that which no canvas could
withstand”. So when sailing became a pastime, the scale was redefined using
stuff that blew away from the dump. We have a dump “transfer” station here in town,
so when the wind blows, so does the trash. And that stench! Who’d build a
tourist trap next to this menace, that smell is not the beans baking! So now a
Beaufort 5 is defined as a “Fresh Breeze”, allowing small stuff like Mac attack
paraphernalia to race across the highways. A 10, “Storm”, sending roof shingles
airborne and knocking Ravens out of the sky. Have you noticed the rarity of
sightings for these birds that at one time were pretty common around town?
Their scarce! The winds are basically
hurricane force category during a “Chinook”, 12 on the Beaufort scale. Hey, the
roofing companies love it. In fact, I would say that the next governor’s claim
to fame will be that of a roofing contractor executive. We had a cook. We had a
TV repair man. We had a crook. We had another crook. Time for a change wouldn’t
you say? Just how much money is it costing to re-roof the Performing Arts
Center? Probably enough to run a
successful campaign. Politicians. Beaufort 15, blowhards!
Science
Lesson #2: What is the Scoville Scale. I had no idea what this scale related
to. I was a derelict in my responsibilities as a connoisseur of fine eating, to
not know what this scale entailed. We all eat. We all like spicy food. And we
don’t understand the importance of this scale. Here we go. A fellow worker
turned me on to the “Scoville”. He was experimenting with different levels of
“heat”. Now besides the gourmet aspects of proper seasonings, it was the side
effects that he was truly after. See, many real scientists believe that the
“capsicum” contained within peppers and extracted, can with enough intake
produce the same chain reaction to one’s metabolism that generates a sense of a
“high”. Has something to do with endorphin generation. This is a molecule that
makes us feel good inside. It is supposed to produce the same effect as
marijuana. Now Craig was experimenting with this stuff because he could no
longer toke. See, the Mary Jane was legal here in Alaska, then the Fed.’s
scared the legislators into a bow-wow down to their wishes or face the
possibility of not being able to give themselves a raise. So the
de-criminalized cannabis was criminalized. With that, many workers fell under
the DOT drug testing program. So random testing was now part of the state’s
efforts to control our urine on demand policy. One night, Craig showed up to
work the midnight shift. He was experiencing a profuse sweat. He got a little
carried away with the hot stuff, while inventing a chili that could melt boot
polish off a pair of shined military boots. Now the Scoville scale tries to make
sense of the “hot” stuff. For instance, Tabasco pepper has a rating of 30,000.
It means if you consumed a cup of the red stuff, it would take 30,000 cups of
sugar water to dilute the pain. Sugar is the key. In fact testers of the “heat”
in competition bring along a can of pressurized whip cream – to ease the pain
quickly! Now a Habanero chile, well that weighs in at 100,000 cups of sugar
water. Pure Capsaicin, 16-million cups would be required to cool it off. So one
can see that this stuff is potent! One day, I decided to visit the store in
midtown that specializes in the “heat”. I found many things of interest. Smoked
chiles, different pastes. Pretty unique and sensible items. Things that would
make for a good addition to my southwestern cooking seasoning rack. Then I
found something that begged my inertest. This was the “insensible” stuff. It
was located in the corner with very little light. This was the same stuff Craig
was experimenting with. It was pure liquid heat, so it could be used - be it
under close supervision - to flavor many dishes. So I went for it. Wow, $15
bucks for a 4-oz. bottle. It was called “Da’Bomb” and was rated as “ground
zero”. Supposedly, the hottest stuff on earth rating in at 234,000 Scoville
units. Wicked beyond belief the bottle’s advertisement warned. I couldn’t
believe there was anything this hot and still legal. This stuff can be
dangerous they say. But it’s for cooking! Now I had just finished replacing my
asbestos filled kitchen linoleum floor with stone! But stone doesn’t have the
bounce property as does the fake stuff, so one must be very careful when
placing the grocery bags on the floor. I didn’t realize that the bag with
“Da’Bomb” had a rough landing. I started smelling something really weird.
Almost like that of a burning clutch. Then as I started to prepare to put the
groceries away, it was discovered that “Da’Bomb” had exploded. Not to worry, it
was still corralled in those lousy flimsy plastic bags that the grocery stores
give away. Oh, a grocery bag racing across the highway means 0 on the Beaufort
Scale! There’s nothing to the sack. Anyway, I just picked up the bag, which
formed a contained puddle and dumped the contents into the sink. Not a good
idea – the burning clutch smell again. So I engaged the garbage disposal, and
immediately, a fume bomb alerted me to the fact that “Da’Bomb” lives on. It was
instant pain from head to toenails as I inhaled an ungodly amount of who knows
what. Now one must remember that pepper spray is 2-million on the scale, but
one only gets a very small amount. It is like only a hundredth of an ounce
contained in one of those big size bear scare sprayers. This was potent, as the
entire contents of a 4-oz bottle had just been released and the disposal maniac
made it into a pure gas! My eyes disappeared. I wanted to call 911, but I
couldn’t tell my arms from my legs. I couldn’t tell what was up or what was
down. I lost consciousness with dimension. This lasted like there was no
tomorrow coming. I honestly thought I was a dead man. It had to be frying my
brain cells, my lungs, my liver and my cucaracha. And what was going to the
bathroom going to be like? Then I guess the good effects kicked in. It wasn’t
that bad, it was indeed a genuine high. So for the next few days my wife kept
asking me if there was something wrong. Nothing I would say but cautioned her
to stay away from the disposal. It was mine, all mine. As every time the
garbage disposal was engaged, so was my nose snorting. It was a garbage
disposal high. Now if that smell over at the nutshell farm came from the hot
stuff, hey that would not be a bad place to hangout. But I think Beaufort has
something to do with that odor. Now I shouldn’t get down on my representatives.
In fact, just the other day I saw the senile one driving across town. When we
met up at the traffic light, I saluted him as he looked over towards my way.
But unfortunately “Da’Bomb” incident did have a side effect. I guess it is like
arthritis, as I can only salute with one finger! As far as a nose picker? Make
sure remnants of “Da’Bomb” isn’t lingering about under a fingernail!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Espresso Fix ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Coffee
shops are a writer’s nirvana. People come and go - Times Square style. Stressed
out dressed up clientele. No particular place to go clientele. Even hard to
tell clientele. All generations included. And there is always something of
interest going on with those indulging in the caffeine fix. It is hard not to
eavesdrop. Anyway, I was enjoying some java the other day at a downtown
locality when Mr. Rude customer walks in. The guy with the cell phone
permanently attached to his ear, and possibly hard wired to his brain. Now I
have gotten kind of used to cell phone addicts. But I am still a little gun shy
at accepting the behavior of loudmouths. Is this really an exercise in free
speech? And the barista must have held the same sentiment with the guy who was
invading and polluting everyone’s air space. It was definitely a case of
diarrhea mouth. In fact, this guy’s rudeness was competing with the background
music – by now, drowned out music. Enough was enough, as the barista stopped
what he was doing - making the jerk’s latte - and went to turn up the music
volume. The guy started talking louder. The barista again stopped and added
more volume. Soon we could hear the guy trying to explain to the receiving end
that he couldn’t hear the conversation. The music was a quiet classical, so the
clientele didn’t mind the increased decibels. Especially over the loudmouth’s
monotone conversation. Soon, the guy ends the conversation and demands an
answer to why it was taking so long to make his drink. Again, the barista went to
the music box and kicked it up a notch. Then this guy starts complaining about
the loud music. I think this barista has come up with the ultimate solution.
One that the senators can’t circumvent. What I mean by the circumvent aspect is
explained herein. Our friends the Israelites have technology that can block out
cell phone nuisances. They have tried to sell it in this country. But special
interests have commanded the Congress to ban the sale of this technology. It is
banned. In fact, it is a crime to import and enable this equipment. If such
devices were permitted, the bother of somebody else’s phone ringing would no
longer be a bother. Not at the theater, not at the market, not at the coffee
shops, nowhere! Ah, peace and quiet at last. But such a ban would cost millions
of dollars in lost revenue to the cell phone time-sharing investment firms. So
this barista fought fire with fire and won. Now it is also well known that the
“black” market is still alive and well. So it will only be a matter of time when
everybody will be able to afford a blocker. I can’t wait to get one and put it
to use at intersections, when people should be driving not conversing. And
these devices are cheap and about the size of a cigarette package. Believe me,
the first restaurant that advertises cell phone blocking will get my business –
unless it is a fast food joint. Now just as Mr. Rude grabbed his coffee and
vacated the café and was just outside the door, his phone rings. Now he was
still in the yelling mode. When he answered the phone, it was so loud that it
disturbed a dog in a nearby vehicle. The dog was trying to enjoy a nap.
Alaskan’s love their dogs. And since we don’t get hot or even warm weather,
dogs drive around with their masters all the time. And when out and about shopping,
the dogs double as security agents. Well this dog went mad, and the dogs
barking engaged the vehicle’s alarm system to begin its sequence of first the
horn, then a siren then the lights flashing. And this upset the dog even more.
So every time the alarm thing completed the cycle, it started all over again.
This went on and on and on. It was hilarious. The owner was nowhere to be
found. Now as it continued, noticeable was the fact that the battery must have
been on the drain cycle. Horns and lights draw a good deal of amperage. The dog
was wound up. And when things looked as if it was settle down time, the dog
went ballistic – especially when somebody walked by. Soon the horn was just a
muffle. The lights? Just a faint glow. Then all went quiet - dead battery. Now
the owner shows up. She was jumping around like a nutcase, as without power,
there was no way she could get into the vehicle via remote control. Now what
was also interesting was the fact that the curbside parking where this
entertainment was taking place was painted blue, for the handicapped. This
broad was far from handicapped, maybe just on the obese size. Now since she
couldn’t get into her car, she vacated the predicament situation at hand to
find help. That’s when the meter maids were making the rounds and guess what?
The meter was expired. Ticket time! At first I felt for the lady. But since she
felt the need to abuse the parking restrictions reserved for those in need, I
wasn’t going to allow her to abuse my time by helping out. Not a bad day at the
coffee shop! And what made it a great ending story, the guy that showed up to
help her was the loud mouth from the coffee shop. What made this great story a
laughing story, the broke car required a tow-truck, as the dead battery would
not allow access to the vehicle, which was required in efforts to get under the
hood. Good thing Mr. Loud Mouth had his cell phone!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Most Wanted ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
I
don’t know why the government still maintains the most wanted list at the local
post offices. Just drink a little too much coffee and you’ll know what I am
getting at. Come the wee hours of a new day, all the cable channels are filled
with this paid programming bullshit. And that is where all the crooks hangout!
But then again, crooks are getting smarter and smarter with each passing grade.
It must have something to do with “no crook left behind”. So lets applaud
George on this one. Really! Give credit where credit is due. No child left behind can be expanded. No
senators’ children left to fight in Iraq. No senators’ child left to be poor.
No senators’ child to pay estate taxes. No senators’ child to worry about
anything. No senators’ child without a vaccine. Anyway, where “white noise”
used to blank out the TV screen after midnight, now the paid programming time
slots talk about a zillion different and “legal” ways to rip off Uncle Sam. And
everybody and anybody can do it! It’s that easy. And you don’t even have to be
a citizen. Yes indeed, the “green card” will do in some instances, it just
requires more of a down-payment for the CD and fake this and fake that! Crooks,
like senator like son. In Anchorage, a new target has grown out of this success
story for all who show an interest. It was probably learned about from one of
those “legal” CD programs. I guess it is a truly American entrepreneurs target,
or weakness, as the paid programming gurus call it. Sorry, they call it an opportunity!
The new targets for the crooks are the fire stations. Unmanned, as the man
sleeps! So crooks break into the stations and get to steal good stuff, like
steaks and drugs. And the real smart crooks, the ones that didn’t have to worry
about being left behind in the first place, well they have figured out that
there is an easy way to get rid of the fire guy with insomnia. Pull a fire
alarm. First off, it will provide instant access. And with traffic jamming all
around this town, there is a definite time constraint that falls within the
window of success. Egad, can you imagine this is actually happening? It is,
right here in America, right before your eyes. So when you are sound asleep at
night in the security of your home, the fire station is on the stake-out for
the take-out. When things get this bad, something has indeed gone wrong. So
maybe the Homeland security guys at the airport should start watching TV. It’s
black and white man! And those posters at the P.O.? Replace it with a flat
screen TV, with the info rip-off programs. But don’t get confused when the
line-up has individuals that look familiar. Yes, pretty soon that line-up will
be for guys like Tom Delay, Bill Frist, and I am sure that before it is all
over with, maybe the chief. Not the Fire Brigade Chief, but the commander in
chief! And when they all appear in front of the jury to plead their case, they
can blame it on TV. They can blame it on the religious fanatics, because all of
the airwaves are controlled by Pat and his frat. And from there, these crooked
scoundrels’ high paid lawyers will succeed in placing the blame on an act of
God, which has no sentencing!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Barefoot in the Park ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
If I had the opportunity to
ask first term President select start a war 2nd term re-elect just
one answer demanding question, this would be it. George, are you required to
take off your shoes for security purposes before boarding Air Farce 1? The fact
of this matter that Americans must remove their shoes before gaining access to
fly the friendly skies as part of Homeland Securities intimidating tactics, it
is basically un-American. I don’t travel all that much, never have. But most
recently, I had to waste a few minutes of my precious life trying to get
through the maze of security at the “Big Ugly”. That’s what we call the new
over-budgeted behind schedule airport named after Ted, our senior senator. It
looks more like a ship then anything else. Maybe it is supposed to float come
the Great Flood! Ted has his namesake on just about everything “big” in Alaska.
Most of the time the name is of minor importance, lost amongst the greenback
free-for-all, made possible from regurgitated taxation through appropriation
bills – that free-rider stuff. As far as the security ridiculousness, my guess
is Senator Ted - not the Kennedy guy who urinates on head stones - has
something to do with the heightened and tightened security. From his hierarchy
perch, he squanders away bags of money to buy all of those fancy hi-tech
screening devices that don’t work worth a damn. The gadgets that require a cast
of highly paid un-trainable personnel who are good at putting on a show, in
efforts to instill that our safety is in their hands. All at the expense of my
time and the taxpayers’ looted loot. Think about it. We are handing over our
wages in efforts to be harassed. In a nutshell, that is exactly what is
happening. This country lives in fear! Wasn’t always like this. I believe it is
a pre-fabricated menace. Anyway, I never had the opportunity to watch some
government worker check out my shoes. It was interesting to say the least.
Shoes tell an awful lot about an individual. Seems like these guys behind the
masses have found a new science - footensics! But it isn’t just the shoes the
TSA experts are concerned about. It boils down to behavior. It is a combination
of things that makes one a suspect, a terrorist suspect at that, which may deny
one access to the plane. It could mean delays, and if you are amongst those
targeted for a meltdown from a pat-down, delays could be costly. Remember, the
airlines operating in Chapter 11 are not responsible for anything. And are not
all the majors running in the red? Now it seems that the likely targets for
additional harassment consists of the scrounged looking younger generation.
That doesn’t surprise me, there has always been a generation gap with those
that rap. Here is what I found. If you smile, like you are happy, that sends up
a red flag. Honestly, one of the screeners told me that there is no reason
whatsoever to be happy and smiling when going through such an ordeal, that is
not what they were here for. Now if that grin is too gothic like, that also
sets the analyst to ponder if you are a terrorist, or whatever they are looking
for in an individual. So practice your boredom stare before your next trip.
Boredom, with borderline disgruntlement is what they are looking for. It really
has nothing to do with the shoes. That is done in efforts to make you break,
should you be putting up a front. About a year ago, I had the opportunity to
fly to Morocco. Now this country is the “bad” lands. It is this country’s
behavior towards democracy without our help that finds itself on George’s axis
of evil list. Did you know that the “evil” list contains more country names
then the list of coalition fans? At first I hesitated to entertain any thought
to go abroad, but my son was on a Fulbright scholarship, under the auspices of the
State Department! We had to fly from Anchorage all the way to Africa? I had no
idea where this Casablanca holdout was located. The trip from way north to way
somewhere was truly uneventful. Now boarding the plane in New York, well that
was a little different. There were dogs sniffing everything and everyone as
passengers boarded the plane. I was a little nervous. But the Moroccan
experience was all worth the trouble. There wasn’t any trouble through the
entire trip. And my wife and I were not playing the normal tourist routine. We
stayed with my son, who had a place in a typical Moroccan neighborhood. It
meant alleyways, community bathing, noisy streets, busy streets, gangs of cats.
Living is a little different. At night, people tend not to vegetate away in
front of the TV, as nighttime means market time. There is no crime in the
streets. Even at 2am in the morning, there seemed to be no room for fear. All
in all, it was a very exciting trip. It wasn’t until the return trip to my
“homeland” where the non-fear factor was interrupted, by the Homeland - TSA
that is. Upon arrival from this third world country, we were herded towards the
customs booths. Each booth had a security officer and a supervisor. I guess it
was easier to post both, incase of trouble. That must have swelled the balance
of Tom’s retirement – who was in-charge – to at least twice as much, as it
meant twice as many employees as was truly necessary. Anyway, when it was our
turn, I thought it would be an easy ordeal. First off, the security officer
asked if we were married. Before him was our marriage certificate, as we had
been advised to take it along with our passports. Then he asked me if I had
ever been arrested. I was a little puzzled over this, not amused and asked him
what this had to do with anything. That is where I blew it. I had the audacity
to question the authority. Remember, Cheney made it a corporal sin to question
authority! The supervisor grabbed the center stage. He went on do defend the
low-life, expanding on the fact that with a name like mine, Mick and Irish, I
had to have a record and I was lying to them! I was pissed. The next thing you
know I was being escorted to some room off to the side. Now all the time,
people that couldn’t speak English and who fit the perfect terrorist
stereotyping, they were going through without the slightest hesitation. Had
something happened while we were gone overseas? Was there an invasion upon the
Red, White and Blue? It was mind-boggling. Now my wife was pissed, as we sat
amongst a bunch of other, Americans! This is where people either made it or
were herded off to an awaiting paddy wagon. Many were denied access. Man, this
room was the bad news room. Finally, I knew the camera was on me. I didn’t give
a damn. I knew the microphones were also analyzing my speech pattern. My wife
told me to settle down. I yelled that the best thing that could happen is for
me to make a scene and get arrested. That is when I noticed the security
commander motion to another guy. I quieted down, as for a second I thought it
was slammer time. But I was quickly given the stamp of approval and with a
smile allowed to enter, AMERICA! Now I needed a drink. Could have used a
six-pack. Next we were going through security once again, all at the same
airport. This time, I had to once again take off my shoes. There was a young
guy in front of me, with shaggy hair and a week or so growth on the chin.
Anyway, they signaled him out, for the full body raid. It had to do with his
shoes. The high-top black Converse. Hey, those were my shoes! Next thing you
know, there is an argument. See, Homeland guy thought the shoes belonged to the
hippy. I told the guy he was wrong. Next thing you know, they think we have
something going and that I was trying to cover by admitting that the shoes were
not his, but mine. They probably thought that a 50’s guy should not be wearing
Converse. Anyway, what a hassle. I needed another drink. So “Welcome to
America”! Land of the “once” free, and home of the? The verdict is still out!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Terrorist Hangout ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Following
the attacks on NYC and the Pentagon, boundless and strong-arm scrutiny was
placed on sources of information that the enemy had most likely used and would
use in efforts to once again derail our peace and tranquility. One place that
received a whole lot of notoriety and J. Edgar Hoover attention was the public
library system, that which stretches from the mountains to the prairies to the
oceans! This public domain institution - which doesn’t lack useful information
about our ways and means - is also pretty well wired, so the Internet could be
used to research information that could weaken a facility to become a readily
available target of interest. Now Anchorage has a pretty nice library. But like
most, book funding is slow coming, so much of the data is outdated. But the
availability of the wire, along with free usage, it could be a tool that could
give out the wrong information. So library records, which at one time were
protected under privacy rights thought to exist under the Constitution, such
are now subject to scrutiny. Hess’ sanctuary has ceased to exist! We can thank
Ted Olson for thwarting that right. Maybe that is rude. Ted lost his wife
during the attack. Ted is a great lawyer, to bad he was on their side.
Following the attacks, he petitioned the U.S. Supreme Beings and argued that
the Constitution does not guarantee such a right. That was confusing news to
most Americans, but it was true. Privacy is granted by state statutes and state
constitutions. Alaska is one of the few states that guarantees such a right.
Anyway, library records around the country were confiscated. Internet use at
public libraries was also hijacked by G-men raiders and dissected for evidence.
Soon enough, the libraries became a place terrorist had to stay away from. So
where do they hangout now? Well just recently I had the opportunity to visit a
big city. I thought Anchorage was big. Only kidding! A good scale of worth
recognizing size could be ordained by the size of amenities, like the local
bookstores. Now I never imagined that a bookstore the size found in this
“other” city could be profitable. In fact, it was so big that it had a
Starbucks at both ends! This outfit with a cast of employees, whose presence by
now figured into dozens, was like a city. Now browsing had taken me to a
section that seemed to be of interest. To just as many customers, dozens. Maybe
it was the girly magazine section, but that wouldn’t be allowed in a city
controlled by More Men would it? And it wasn’t on a shelf tucked away, but
occupied one of the main isles, like it was vogue! This was a section on
military everything. Seems everybody is writing books these days, even the
jarheads. And such publications could be at a price to be made and a price to
be paid! Most of the books contained all kinds of useful information. Several
picture journals contained the routes some of the specialized troops had used
during their pilgrimage to up-route the enemy, in Afghanistan. Hey, nothing
like giving the goods away. I found books with blueprints, structural
footprints. I found books with glossy photographs of the terrain, that made for
an easy giveaway to a terrorist who was familiar with the area. Remember, our
war is on their homeland. One particular photo of interest was that of a group
of “Special Forces”, gathered together like it was a reunion picture. In fact,
several of the scruffy looking guys were identified as “soldiers for hire”. Now
I am sure that’s a dead giveaway, especially for revenge seekers. Isn’t there a
law of common sense in effect that prohibits giving away anything that could
give the enemy an edge up, especially during a time that we are engaged in a
conflict that is turning into a war. What an ugly word! Lets face the facts to
why this breach happens. People like to boast the fact that they may be privy
to something “secret”. We like to brag in efforts to polish our egos. I left
the store, in disgust that some selfish military mentality was taking advantage
of thy fellowman. Angry I was, questioning as to where the hell the government
oversight was sleeping. That’s right, at the library! A few hours later, I was
on a plane ride headed back to Alaska. In Alaska, we have more then a fair
share of military facilities. During that flight, which was under-booked, I had
the opportunity to sit next to an individual who looked young and
well-respected in his dress. Through conversation, I was made aware that he was
employed by a sub-contractor responsible for maintaining radar equipment, for
the military. I threw out some “buzz” words, like I knew what I was talking
about. That is all that was required to get this guy to spill the beans.
Military spiked beans! The buzz words caught his interest, and soon I was
gathering even more information about military hardware. Now I don’t know if
the information being divulged was confidential, but it sure wasn’t layman’s
trivia. Halfway through the flight, another guy started enjoying our
conversation, from across the isle. I believe he was eavesdropping on our
previous conversation, as he sipped Jack Daniels. Now this guy was decked out,
easily identified as an executive. Then the conversation went three ways. These
two guys both knew their stuff, especially with military happenings in Alaska,
so competition soon played into who knew more about what. I wish I had a tape
recorder. In fact at one time during the conversation one guy mentioned something
about national security, looking around as if to see if a terrorist - the
stereotyped terrorist - was listening in on this conversation. But this is what
happens when the entire security of this once Great Country is outsourced! It
is a crime that we do such things, with a little help from Jack, to compromise
the troops, to compromise our own security and destiny. We are our own worst
enemy! Getting back to that ugly word, “War”. We have in this country the
intelligence, the means and the ways to be the “model” government. Not from
might, but from compassion. Compassion to feed and shelter the masses. To teach
other about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That should be our one
and only mission. We wrote the song about brotherly love, but that seems to
have been lost in the fog of evil upon us. Buddy can you spare a dime has
become a waste of time. This is not my “country tis of thee”. It is a country
boiling in controversy. It is not to late for all Americans, regardless of
race, religious affiliation or party line to step back and take a breather.
Each individual must redefine where we are going as a country. If we don’t, the
lemming theory reigns in victory, again!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Got Blue ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Performed my own poll the
other day, during a four-hour caffeine binge. Of the ten different vehicles
that pulled up to the handicapped curbside parking, not one person was
handicapped. At least it didn’t look that way. Obese? Yes. Is that really a
handicap? There exists more and more interest in a tax upon the obese. Anyway,
why do people think it is OK to screw their brothers and sisters. That is
exactly happens when simple laws are abused. It is well known that there exists
far fewer handicapped individuals in Anchorage then what the books have
recorded, as it is easy for an individual to get a certificate of un-fitness.
Yes indeed, with that blue certificate, easy parking! Hey, there are truly
handicapped individuals out there that need easy access. So how to we fix this
infringement problem? Easy, we have “no child left behind”. So kids, read the
signs for your parents. It says handicapped. Self test time! Parents, ask
yourself, “Do I believe that Hussein had Weapons of Mass Destruction”? If the
answer is “yes”, you are intellectually handicapped. An alternate question,
“Did GWB lie about this WMD bull-crap”? If your answer is “yes”, call the
impeachment “Hotline”. It is my understanding that many of the “obese” citizens
that abuse the system also feel inclined to beat the system, if they get a
ticket for abusing the privilege. I guess because they have the time to fight
back. I once fought a parking ticket. Yes indeed, it was easy. But I was not
breaking the law, just testing the system. It had to do with a ticket for
parking in a loading zone. The building had burned down to the ground. What was
left was a vacant lot over-run by rats. There wasn’t any loading zone, but the
sign remained. I lost! Here is an idea. Why not paint all handicapped vehicles
that putrid blue. Then when these “out of site eyesores” are found in the
privileged parking areas, the parking authority can do what they do best. Donut
talk. Things haven’t changed all that much. Donuts are still America’s fastest
selling thrill pill to obesity. That first bite, Nirvana want more! Hey, those
breakfast things that are sold at the fast food outlets are basically donuts,
with a hunk of fat stuck in between. It smells like meat, but what happened to
the beef? That reminds me of something, what happened to that lady? Remember the “beef” lady. She was tough. I
was hoping she would have made a run for the presidency. That was during the
first bushwhack. Now this writer’s aspirations for aberrations upon society are
by no means intended to discriminate, but we need to fix the big problem before
we attack the other problems. For the obese, we should have designated parking
places, painted the color of the golden arches. These spots should be located
as far away as possible with respect to the destination. It is called exercise!
You want that donut, work for it. We should also provide “obese” parking in
congested downtown areas. But it should be available at a rate that is
proportional to the amount overweight. Hey, if we have too, install scales.
Really, I am getting down on the obese because it will be a sad day in America
when the obese population sets the see-saw heading in the other direction – the
majority swing I am talking about. What’s that I heard? Damn, we are already
there. Time to get into the scale business. So forget everything. With a
majority vote, I am sure an obese “special interest” group is meeting
somewhere, to further their agenda, getting bigger. It may indeed cause another
revolution in this country. Hey, if tea can ignite a revolt, I am sure we will
soon see Big Mac attacks. What’s that? It is already happening. There is a
so-called “disease” by that name. It is described in the American Journal of
Prescription Giveth. So I was wrong, I guess “obesity” is a bonafide handicap.
The unfortunate thing, it handicaps the entire nation. But here is one thing to
remember. People who watch their weight, also have enough energy left to give a
smile. How often do you see a smile coming from an obese person? They are
miserable within themselves. So maybe it is a medical problem. But a handicap
it is not, it seems it is more a choice. In America, we cherish the choice.
That is what made this country great. But as “special interest” groups form for
just about everything, the emergence that one has to belong to a group as a
“guppy”, well it provides an insulating buffer before our government. With
that, Goliath will be well protected and David will loose his identity of
individuality. America’s “with liberty and justice for all”, which sounds in
individuality, where one citizen, one vote has meaning, it will become
handicapped in the furtherance of freedom! So “freedom at last”, will become
“freedom not too fast”.
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Humiliation ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Something
I always wanted to participate in was election as a candidate for jury
selection. Everybody expresses the same sentiment towards this honor, as it is
a civic duty that exemplifies our own direct contact constitutional right. I
finally had that opportunity. First came the Alaska Superior Court
questionnaire. Now it doesn’t take a scientist to fill out this preliminary
test that tries to filter out biases, but maybe training as an optometrist
would help. Really, I had to resort to a magnifying glass to read the questions
and not because my eyesight has weakened over the years. The text size was all
so small, in efforts to fit all the questions on one form. Maybe that is why my
daughter was excused most recently from such duty. She received a response back
that she had been dismissed from the process due to her military status? She is
only away at college! I called the court clerks office to question why the
questionnaire was borderline unreadable. In actuality, I first asked if it
would be considered contempt of court if I didn’t respond. Well of course it
would be, was the response in a stupid like tone, like I was asking a stupid
question. What if I can’t read it? To that I was offered assistance. I didn’t
need assistance. I just wanted a readable questionnaire! I was told it would
have taken a larger form to make it readable. A larger form costs more money to
mail. Now the mail routine in Alaska is one of those subjects of peculiar
interest. It is costly to send things to the outlying areas, as all cargo must
go by air. Lucky bush pilots retire young and rich. Some die! And in efforts to
pass on the savings as required by direct taxation “pork” we are talking about
here, all the villages have designated zip codes. So to mail a letter from
Anchorage to a village way up on the Yukon River, it costs no more or less then
sending a complaint from Anchorage to Washington. I must correct myself. In
some cases, it is cheaper to send mail to the bush. Not the president, but the
third world nation called Alaska. Anyway, I filled out the questionnaire to the
best of my ability and about two months later I received the invite. It was
something I was really looking forward too getting involved in. I had
represented myself in a non-jury civil trial some years ago - I lost, the other
lawyer was hot tub friends with the judge - so I had become familiar with the
rules of the court. First off, the nasty sounding invite warned that due to
lack of funding from the legislature, parking was not free! Now the court
system would provide free bus transportation, but only for the first day. Bus
service wouldn’t be all that bad if it were the summertime. But it was winter.
The sidewalks that lead to the un-heated shelters are the last thing on the
snow removal crews’ list of priorities. I think it is on the day 4-list. And it
snows about every three days. That was definitely out of the question. No
wonder it was for free, most likely no one uses it for that purpose. So the
night before the first day of my weeklong incarceration away from work, I
called the “clerk of the court” recording to see if my group was being asked to
show-up. Goopy, it was a go. I arrived at the courthouse early. I am one of
those individuals that likes to show up early. It was humiliation right off the
get go. The first security guard said I was early. So what I thought. Then
several other security personnel surrounded each entering individual as if we
were all on some security hit list. You thought Homeland security was bad,
these guys at the Nesbet Court House have them beat by miles. This is a very
interesting courthouse, maybe 5-years old at the most. For years, where now
sits this modern day architectural marvel made from granite, there was nothing
put a sink-hole. The old courthouse is situated across the street on stable
ground. Anchorage is earthquake country. All across the city there exists pockets
of unstable soil, unsuitable for building. This once vacant block was not even
fit for a parking lot! Then somebody elected a governor who had an interest in
the property. His family owned the property. It wasn’t worth beans. Not until
the engineers at Stanford University stepped in. Hey, these guys just look for
challenges like this. Especially if someone else is paying for their expert
services. The governor couldn’t have approached the local university, as that
would have raised the flag of suspicion. And sure enough, the Stanford guys
came up with a design that allowed for a “floating” foundation. So the
sink-hole could support construction, but the cost of a specially designed
“floating” foundation would be twice to three times the cost of the building
itself. So instead of turning the block of un-usable land into a park or
something, the plot was sold to the state, fetching market value for the
downtown area. In the millions! And once the state had the land title, then
came the plans for some hi-tech foundation and wal-la, a new courthouse was
funded, by signature of the governor. He made out pretty good in this deal.
Very few people realize what went on here. Anyway, soon I was directed to a
room that was filled with what looked like second hand furniture. I am sure it
wasn’t the judges’ chambers! First on my complaint list, there wasn’t even a
damn coffee pot. Secondly, it was unbelievably hot. It started to stink, as the
heat from what sounded like a malfunctioning heating system and sunlight infiltrated
the room through the glass faced windows. It smelled like someone had urinated
in the corner. It was once a sink-hole, maybe they meant it was a stink hole!
Soon the group I was part of was directed to another room. Another
questionnaire. Then the waiting game started. Nobody told us what was going on.
Hearsay gossip indicated that the lawyers for the plaintiff and defense were
going over the questionnaires to see if an un-biased jury could be dissected
from the fifty or so people that were included in this group. Up to this point
in time, nobody knew anything about what kind of trial was before us. Was it a
murder trial? Or maybe something that would make its way to the news media!
Soon though, we were excused. I decided to grab a cup of coffee right across
the street from the courthouse. I guess this is a place frequented by the
lawyers and judges. I felt out of place! I eavesdropped on two individuals who
looked the lawyer type. They were talking about a case and a situation that was
of interest, because of the timing. It sounded like the lawyers involved in the
case that I had just wasted some valuable time with, being treated like a leper
more then a possible juror. These guys were complaining how a judge could
decide to take off and go skiing while others waited around. They both smiled
and dreamed about becoming a judge! As I approached my vehicle, I could see
that I had been tagged. I thought I had placed enough quarters in the parking
meter, I was wrong. In fact, the parking police was just two cars up. I asked
him about a grace period, he said that wasn’t allowed because then he may have
to give up his job. He headed for the donut shop. I like that joke about the policeman and the driver. A police pulls
over a driver and asks the guy if he has been drinking due the fact that the
driver’s eyes were glossed over. The driver then asks the policeman if he
himself is under the influence of donuts, as the drive noticed that the
policeman’s eyes were “glazed” over. Anyway, I was free now from jury participation
because the judge decided to go skiing! So we were released and told to show up
the next day. We were told to call the court clerk’s recording to see what time
to appear for a re-show, as it may be a different time. Maybe the judge had a
donut date in the morning, or a skier’s hangover planned. I guess judges can
make people’s lives miserable, even without a sentence! That night I called the
clerk. I called again to make sure the time was correct. This time the
recording said to show up at 8:15am. Now, I showed up early again. To see if
indeed I would be once again treated like a leper from the leper’s in uniform.
I was right. Anyway, at 8-o’clock sharp, the judge came to the waiting room
where the clerks ate donuts. He was mad, as he wanted to get going with the
trial. He went ballistic and told the clerk to hold everyone that was late in
contempt. I was the only show so far. Then the clerk informed the judge that he
had called in to tell the jurors to show up at 8:15, not the usual 8 appearance!
He calmed down. Potential jurors started to show up. Soon the group was herded
into a court room and interrogation started, as the judge was here today. Each
lawyer had the opportunity to question the jury. Questions like, “Do you know
the defendant? By now the defendant was seated in the courtroom, next to her
lawyer, like she was a criminal! The questions continued. Do you have any
teenage daughters, and so on? There was one lady who seemed really involved in
the process. She answered each question with dignity. You could tell that she
was truly taken by this civic duty. She radiated truth in justice, she smiled,
she was a proud America. Then the defendant lawyer asked her a question that
turned the tides. That question had to do with why she hadn’t mentioned her
divorce in the questionnaire. Right off you could tell it was about to get
ugly. This is private! This one lawyer was using it as an intimidation scheme.
He was a dirty bastard and nobody in their right mind could say he was at
liberty to ask such personal questions, as if he had a duty to his client. The
lady soon burst into tears, like this divorce was a thing of the past and
better left alone Soon, the judge excused her. But all during this ordeal, one
could see that this was a system that had turned for the worse. It was a joke.
But it didn’t affect the lawyers. It didn’t affect the judge. It seems as
though it was business as usual. I was pissed. The judge should have intervened
and told the lawyer that he was out of line with such a question, personal in
nature. But this judge was too busy. He was engrossed in an Eddie Bauer
catalog, making an order. We were once again excused for the day. This time,
the judge told everyone to show up at 8:15 the following day. That was good, as
it allowed me to go to work. I was working the night shift, so it was possible
to get to the courthouse on time. See, the company I worked for would only pay
my wages if I were selected for jury duty. So all this preliminary stuff, it
was on my dime! In the meantime, we were told about the case. It involved a
“hit and run” act of violence between a lady and a teenager. I remember seeing
the lady, she was seated in back with her leg propped up, like it was really
hurt. It was all bandaged up. Looked really fake like. She was a big lady. The
defendant, she was just a tiny little girl that most likely couldn’t hurt a
fly. Next day, I arrived late. Maybe purposely as I was in no hurry to witness
more abuse. I guess they had already called out my name, and put me down as a no-show.
But with my arrival, it was back to business. Soon it was my time at the podium
of distrust. For that cross-questioning or cross-examination bull-crap. I
noticed the young girl who was under trial. She looked so innocent. Evidently,
an argument had broken out at the apartment where these two individuals lived.
It occurred on a Saturday night. The young girl invited a few friends over and
had the music turned up. No other residents complained. The lady plaintiff was
upset, so instead of contacting the landlord - who lived in the same complex -
or the police, she decided to take the law into her own hands. An argument
turned into a confrontation. I guess the young girl stepped on the big ladies
foot. She was claiming that it was intentional. Really now, do we have time and
resources to waste on something like this? What was the plaintiff expecting to
get out of this? With lawyers involved, it had to be money. What a waste of
justice. I thought about it as one of the lawyers sipped his latte’. Jurors weren’t
allowed to take coffee into the chambers. This scene of a good old boys’ “club”
mentality provoked the American spirit within me, that somebody has to question
wayward authority. Actually, I had flashbacks when I witnessed a lawyer and a
judge attack my per se case, it happened at one of the local work-out clubs. As
I showered, these guys enjoyed each-other’s company in the hot-tub and
proceeded to strangle the system of justice. I wasn’t a bonafide member of
their elitist “club”. I am not a fool! The first question came my way, as if
the lawyer was trying to catch me off guard. I responded back, something to the
effect that it wasn’t an answerable question. You can’t lie in a court of law
can you? My response woke the judge, who had fallen asleep or looked dazed, it
was still early in the day. I know the lawyer became irate. Now dear you
question his majesty! Dear you upset his court! I am only a peasant! The judge
ordered me to answer the question, I refused. I invoked the 5th.
Then the lawyer asked me why I was late. I responded back, what does it matter.
That pissed this guy off to no end. I know I had a valid excuse. I was working
to keep the runway lights on at a nearby Air Force base. The judge was starting
to get really irate, that body language. Mr. Kelley, why were you late? I
responded back, why were you late. Somebody in the audience laughed. I asked
the judge why he thought it was more important to take a day off to go skiing,
at this group’s expense. I told him about my predicament. That I was required
to work a 12-hour shift then come to this house of ill-repute. The gavel fell.
I was excused. Hey, the plaintiff was a whore in my book. The sleazebag lawyer
representing the whore was also a whore. And the judge, he was a whore. There
was no way in hell this judge was about to hold me in contempt. I was hoping
for that. The news media would have eaten this story up. When I was leaving, I
could tell others were also scamming ways to get out of this sad state of
affairs. Maybe if the defense lawyer could not find innocent victims to help
his client, then maybe the case would be dismissed. Something the judge should
have done before it ever came to this venue. From this experience, I don’t know
if I will ever fancy another opportunity to become a juror. The gavel fell,
that was my justice! I was soon on my way to freedom. I cared about the freedom
of the defendant. She was a young girl trapped in a failed system. If this is
any indication of the norms behind our present day judicial system, then it is
corrupted. Since then, I don’t even bother to respond to the questionnaires.
Why? Well first off, I can’t read the fine print. Maybe it mentions something
about subjecting potential jurors to ridicule and abuse. Secondly, a good
friend informed me that local lawyers get themselves exempted form jury duty.
So do state representatives. So do our representatives in D.C. So if they think
their business is more important, then let the system fail all of us. Let the
judges find me in contempt of treason, or whatever they think is just
punishment for placing their system under ridicule. It is not my system of
justice, anymore! It is nothing more then a passion of fashion for the wealthy!
As a matter of fact, when and if another devastating earth tremor inundates this
northern city and all the other downtown structures tumble, the still standing
courthouse will be testament that at least suffrage from erectional dysfunction
comes with a warranty.
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Distemper ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Mention the word “distemper”
and the majority of the educated public acknowledges the fact that one is
talking about the so named disease that infects young dogs. In Alaska, this
disease is pretty common. We have our above and beyond share of the four legged
creatures, man’s best friend! In fact, many in the know will tell you that
present day taxpayers’ appropriations are directly proportional to a state’s
dog population. According to the taxpayer regurgitations heading “North to
Alaska”, it is a pretty accurate estimate! The extra money is required to keep
the environment safe. See, in Alaska we get air quality warning alerts, as the
wind blown dust contains an abundance of particulate matter, that’s the
scientific jargon for dried feces! Sled dog racing is the wintertime pastime
that runs the population of this species up into the thousands. There are more
dogs in Alaska then humans. Especially come winter, as many would be residents
retreat to warmer climates and make a show just to collect their welfare check,
money from the oil companies. Yes, Alaskan’s receive a yearly bonus from the
exploitation experts. Of course we also have a variety of other wild animals
that roam all about, besides dogs. Like bears, moose, caribou, musk-ox, deer
and a monster akin to the Loch Ness serpent we call the “Hulk”. It is hard to
say whether this latter beast it is an offspring of the abominable snowman,
bigfoot or Moby Dick. I stand corrected, the whale is in the governor’s
ancestry tree. Regardless, the “Hulk” is an animal. This state’s fossil used to
be the Woolly Mammoth. Now though, it is TED. Some think that TED and the
“Hulk” are one in the same. The jury is still out on an official reading. It
needs continued study. Unfortunately that program is about the only research
project that refuses year after year to receive Federal funding. Maybe after
the funding dries up for studying the “oosik”, the penis of a walrus, then
maybe our senator can steer money towards researching the “Hulk”. Unless it is
a conflict of interest! This state has a fetish when it comes to studying the
male organ. Really, we have spent millions of pennies on studying whether or
not size counts, on animals like the musk-ox. And there is a tree growth that
is called penis knob, also studied. Knock on wood! It supposedly has something
to do with erectional defects. Maybe our motto should be the “Penis” state. As
far as the sport of dog mushing, it is not unusual for a racer to care and
provide for a kennel totaling some 100 canines. So an infected puppy can raise
havoc on a once healthy canine population, and the distemper disease can spread
to other kennels. But herein I am talking about another form of distemper, when
it takes on a human quality. According to Webster, distemper can also be
defined as civil disorder or turmoil. Now the extent of civil disorder and
turmoil can be defined by the familiar presidential popularity rating. A rating
between 80 to 100 means America is good and orderly. Below 80 means the
terrorist are still out of order. Below 40, well that makes Tricky Dick Nixon
smile and one can see earth tremors around his gravestone! Saw a bumper sticker
the other day. It was a picture of Dick along with his trademark smile that
used to say, “Try to Dick Nixon before I dick you”. And the head bust picture
was highlighted by the quote, “Lying Counts, Vote Bush”. Now the only thing
about this caption, well Dick and George show no physical resemblance. They are
both sinister. So maybe it works. Hey, it did work, the lying I am talking
about. When a guy has to lie to stay popular, it is “snake-oil” relief. In
actuality, George looks more and more like Mad, alias Alfred E. Neumen. We
indeed have republican disorder and turmoil, so instead of being on the look
out for a bird-flu pandemic, maybe we need a vaccine against distemper. I bet
Swartznagger is smoking a “shit” cigar after Californians defeated all of his
“Hey Arnold” agendas. This guy is trying to be Ronald Reagan. But George is
also trying to be like Ronald. It causes distemper. Arnold, go back to reality
TV. They are both pretty good at being Ronald “clowns”. But it may be too late,
as the distemper pandemic has infected the balls of congress. I mean “halls”!
We need a way to interrogate suspected representatives carrying this disease.
So I recommend the following. All of our representatives should be required to
subject themselves to a “fit for duty” test. Basically, a fit for duty test has
nothing to do with physical condition or ability. That would be a
discriminatory tactic, as most of our senators look like they were Mad-Mac
attack taste testers before vacancies required their unethical ways and means
to support the threat of distemper. I once had to subject myself to one of
these tests. I worked for a company that sold natural gas to residents of
Anchorage. It used to be a good ethical company. Then it was sold to some
sleazebag outfit out of Michigan. Things changed! The DOT had become concerned
that natural gas pipelines were being run by unqualified operators. So the
G-men insisted on a qualification program. I was tasked to design a test
program, as I was the most qualified pipeline controller within the company. I
had worked for many years on the Trans-Alaskan-Pipeline, so my credentials
spoke for themselves. But nobody within my department could pass the test. It
was getting down to the deadline. I was told to give the controllers the
answers to the test, so they could all get a passing grade. I refused. I was
told that I was being difficult and that my behavior was a detriment to the
continued safe operation of the pipeline. Dah! Bottom line? If the
qualification test didn’t meet the DOT’s mandate, the pipeline could be shut
down, or fined. It was about to really hurt this company’s “bottom line”. So I
went for this “fit for duty” test. It is basically a psychological evaluation.
A few minutes into the test, the psychiatrist asked me why I had been sent over
for the test. He was dumfounded, as he saw no need for such a test. I actually
enjoyed it, as it was the first time I had ever opened up to a “shrink”. But
the test can also be utilized as a covert “lie detector” test. It is illegal
for an employer to insist on an employee taking a lie detector test. On the
other hand, it is permissible to request an employee take a “fit” test. To
deny, an employee can be terminated. It is called insubordination. So the
underlying reason for this kind of test is to determine if a person is a liar.
See, penis shaped pencil erasers were showing up at the work site, so the gas
company management was looking for the pervert! It was a female, I think? There
was a picture of the pervert with the “Hulk” that mysteriously showed up in the
gas company’s control room. Hey, Alaskan’s love their animals. That’s where the
“I think” comes into play. It was a signed picture, so we had to re-think
whether the “Hulk” was man or beast! Actually, the main reason that the company
insisted on the “fit” test was in hopes that I would refuse. With termination,
they could have a piss-ant give out the DOT Operator Qualification tests with
the answers. Then the guys testing wouldn’t be offended using a penis eraser to
correct their mistakes. I eventually quit, and that is exactly what happened.
The only problem, the DOT inspectors found out about the cheating and the
company was fined big time! Anyway, each representative should be required to
take this “fit for duty” test. Not to determine whether or not they are liars,
as that is a prerequisite in efforts to get to the “hill” in the first place.
And that quality is polished after a few years, as a necessity in efforts to
get re-elected. The test should be required to provoke a violation of privacy.
It may scare some of these baboons away, as it can open up the “skeleton
chest”. Hey, the baboon is another animal of rarity that migrates to Alaska
come the holidays, when the “hill” becomes silent. To date, a population of three! Now if a potential candidate
agrees to the test, then they will have a first hand experience of a privacy
violation. From there the test results can be used to determine if a candidate
has distemper. Anyway, requesting a “fit for duty” test is a way to filter out
the diseased. Why allow infected individuals to ruin the fun, as over time and
with seniority, that disease becomes un-quarantined. And maybe such a test
should be part of a representative’s yearly physical. Maybe it will promote
term limits by choice and necessity. I am serious with this matter. Oh, I stand
corrected again! A senator can write a book on character, and get away with it!
Maybe the publisher has been overcome by distemper, in this case, the disease
defined as a “dilution” of righteousness!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Pony Express Alaskan
Style ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
I can send a complaint to my
state representative in D.C. for the cost of a postage stamp. That is some 2500
raven flying miles away. Thank God! Oh not for the few pennies it takes, but
for the distance that separates our opinions. But maybe that is not such a good
idea – the separation means out-of-sight out-of-mind shenanigans. One day the
Internet will take care of policing politics. It will become the special
interests’ poison. There “shall” one day arrive a time in history where
the populace can all represent themselves. In reality, our representatives are
shooting themselves in the foot. They are pushing and selling the Internet and
not realizing that this technology, this revolution, may put them out of
business. Maybe they do realize it and are counting on early retirement. Wish I
had a guaranteed pension plan like they receive. And they don’t have to worry
about some other government entity bailing out their custom made plan for
40-cents on the dollar, as it comes right from your pocket, you the taxpayer
pay for their golden years of enjoyment and indulgence. Do you really think
they deserve such special treatment? They make the rules. They can do anything
they want, as we are not watching very carefully! We should be able to make the
rules, the Internet allows direct involvement. I should be the one that yays or
nays the distribution of my captured wages held hostage by somebody who thinks they
know what is best. These outlaws - just ask Mark Twain - they use my money to
make it look like they are doing good just so they can get re-elected time
after time. I work hard for my money, representatives sit around and argue all
day. Or play behind the scenes games of manipulation. They take more trips then
Timothy Leary did when he was experimenting with LSD. They aren’t doing
anything worthwhile that warrants such fringe benefits. We have high oil prices
and a war that is sucking the coffers dry. The only thing they are good for is
destroying democracy. They are good at creating a class system. Most
representatives in the house and senate are “millionaires”. And they are all
for democracizing the world, so they can move and live off their retirement
somewhere else that allows slave like labor conditions. If you don’t think they
support slavery, just look at the minimum wage these clowns voted for! They
voted on something like $5-dollars per hour. They voted on a wage increase for
themselves that fetches in the neighborhood of $80-dollars per hour. So they
eat filet mignon and we eat spam. The original reason behind representation was
to corral all representatives in one central location. It was like the Pony
Express. Our couriers would be elected by the masses, minus any “injun” vote.
Just like “blacks” are treated today! The elected in turn would take our
concerns to this central location for debate and resolution. It all had to do
with limited communications. Why liken it to the Pony Express? Well, way back
when, if something of interest needed attention, the representatives would be
quick to assemble, no matter what the weather was like. This new generation of
lawyers, they stay put and get crotch rot and cheek sores, afraid of the
weather I guess. So they hang around the “hill” and make our lives miserable.
That wasn’t the intent. It was supposed to be a “part-time” job, as a courier!
Now with hi-tech communications making instant contact more then a reality but
a common practice, the lack of communications thing is indeed a thing of the
past. So is the weather. It is time to retire the couriers. Anyway, I was
talking about postage costs to send mail. Now even though I can send a letter
to D.C. from Anchorage, at one time it was almost impossible to do the same
from a few miles down the road, right here in the state of Alaska, intra-mail
deliveries I am talking about. Alaska has very few roads. Most of the small
villages and towns are located along the major river systems, like the mighty
Yukon. The river has been the highway for the village people for many, many
years. Oil discoveries didn’t change the lacking roads system, so getting mail
in and out of the bush is a costly venture. A majority of the mail has to go by
air. Now we all now how expensive airmail is. So if someone in the bush wanted
to send his or her representative in D.C. a complaint, it would cost dollars.
So it wasn’t worth getting upset over what was coming out of the chambers.
That’s an interesting word, “chambers”. We have the Senate and House
“chambers”. We have Judge’s “chambers”. Now isn’t a chamber the room that death
row candidates have their last meal? Didn’t Marilyn have “Chambers”? Or some
movie called, “Behind the Senator’s Door”? Glad I don’t have a chamber! So
something that came out of D.C. was a program to subsidize the mail into and
out of bush communities, towns and villages. With that enacted, no longer did
residents have to rely on air-mail, as they could send a complaint from a
village way up on the North Slope to D.C. for the cost of a first class stamp.
No different then anywhere else in the country. Now there exists an entity that
is looking out for you and I. They scan the horizon and every bill that comes
from the lawmakers’ “chambers”, looking for loopholes. Because they find the
holes, they feel they must take advantage of such. First class mailing was
originally allowed only from “hub” offices, like found in Alaska’s “big”
cities. Where zip codes could be found. Without the zip, no mail! Now since the
mail must go through, once each and every village received a zip code, it meant
a plane had to make a daily trip to each and every authorized post office. In
some places, it meant the only store in town, sometimes just a tent! It was the
first step in the government’s interest in getting rid of the “honey” bucket.
See if people weren’t complaining, - by letters to their couriers - then it
stalled the “pork” for researching the penis size of the Musk-Ox. It started
working. If there was no outgoing or incoming mail, planes need not fly. But
all it required was to have one stamped envelope going either direction and the
propellers were turning. So to eliminate waste, the weight restrictions for a
first-class letter were lifted, so the planes could make trips worthwhile. It
worked rather well. Soon planes were hauling all kinds of things. Diapers,
take-out-orders from Kentucky tried Chicken - a hanging - all at the taxpayers’
expense. No big deal. So with the weight restrictions lifted, soon came no
restrictions on size. But that didn’t last long and soon new size requirements
were put into place, as it started to get a little out of control. The weight
restrictions were never amended, as it seemed that size was what mattered.
Getting back to the Musk-Ox tentacle testing. The planes going back and forth
were full. And like I mentioned before, if there was mail, there was a plane
ready to haul it. It was pretty lucrative all around. The villagers received
and sent mail, and a few bush pilots became the new age Pony Express! Now comes
the good part. The size restrictions were somehow amended once again back in
the late 70’s. Why? It was anybodies guess, but suspicious. Well one
enterprising entrepreneur found that “golden” loophole. With oil revenues at
the max, the state had boodles of loot. It called for building new schools, all
around the state, including many of the villages. Now construction in the
village is no different then construction elsewhere, especially with the
materials of choice. It means concrete footings and concrete block walls. Now
concrete is too heavy to fly as is roofing materials. So it is barged in as a
bulk shipment. But low and behold, the concrete blocks just happened to find
the “friendly skies”! So for a first class postage stamp for each block, this
guy was sending pallet loads to the villages. Now he had bid on and won the
block contract. His contract afforded a nice chunk for transport costs,
averaging about $1 dollar per block. Many other seasoned merchandizing outfits
and transport companies that worked ethically laughed at this guy’s bid. Their
experiences said more like $3-dollars per block, by land and water transport.
They really didn’t know what he was up too. He was going to use and abuse Uncle
Sam. For those not in the know, all said he would never meet the requirements
and that he was going to go broke before the first block was set. Wrong they
were. So he purchased the blocks at cost. He put a postage stamp on each one
and delivered the shipment to the local Post Office by the airport. At first
the officials laughed, but this thief produced the policy that said do it!
Thousands of blocks were sent to the bush in this fashion. This guy made a
mint. You paid for it. Can this guy really call himself a true American? I
guess he is no different then those that make lucrative rules and regulations
that benefit but a few. This guy was smart, just another enterprising
entrepreneur, who is probably a millionaire by now, as he found a way around
some rider that was not scrutinized by those responsible to make sure this type
of abuse is not allowed. So, should true American’s be taking advantage of
loopholes if such abuse becomes a burden on the taxpaying population? No they
shouldn’t. Big deal! And like anything that is abused, there was no way to immediately
change the rules. Not for one year, not for two years. In fact, it was some
5-years later before the rules were changed to ban such means of abuse by
taking advantage of Uncle Sam – the taxpayer. So some idiotic stroke of the pen
that allowed such abusiveness, that milli-second dunderheading, well it is just
another nightmare from the “chambers”. Maybe we should rename it the “crypt”!
How about a new movie, “Couriers of the Crypt”? So for many years in Alaska,
one could send a concrete cinder block through the mail and all it cost was a
postage stamp, back then, probably 23-cents. But that is only a part of it. So
this guy made 77-cents on each block. And to send it by air, that required
subsidies from the treasury department which sent money to the commerce
department which in turn sent money to the defense department which sent money
to the FAA which sent money to Alaska, that’s why such freebies are called a
“rider”. It rides along until it is so far removed from any system of
accountability, it is gone forever. Not even an IRS auditor can find out what
happens to some of our money that is earmarked as a rider. But the action buys
time - through re-election votes - for the “Courier”. In Alaska, we have
representatives that win the distinguished “Courier Award” year after year
after year. Oh, and how about sending a bottle of booze for the price of a
postage stamp? Why not? Then we have another problem. It is called alcohol
abuse. And those that represent the victims - practicing attorneys, I mean couriers
in the making - well they claim it was Uncle Sam that made it possible, by
subsidizing the transport costs. Sure enough, a first-class postage stamp and a
fragile label, it was party hardy time. So along came another government
sponsored program, to stop the booze abuse. But now we have migrated from the
Pony Express “rider” to the Medical Express “free-ride”, all again at the
taxpayers’ expense. Yes indeed, the original rider has been amplified to a pot
of gold for the modern day gold-seekers, as it is considered an atrocity once
again upon our Native population. All because of our “couriers” that hide away
in the “crypt” in efforts to seclude themselves away from true American
reality! Our “couriers” have enacted programs that grow a cancer. These
programs are not necessary and promote an ever-ending black hole. It sucks the
treasury dry and has violated the rules of perpetual motion. Imagine a courier
proving physicists like Einstein may have been wrong! Maybe it is that time in
history for the “couriers” to get in the un-employment line. Give me the
Internet with a link to the real “hill” and we will once again make American
the land of the free and the home of the brave and the place we the citizens
are really in control of own destiny, without the free ride! Seal the “crypt”
door closed! Oh, don’t forget to disconnect the couriers’ link.
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Government Style
Latrines ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Recall the 1980’s story that
blew the whistle on out of control government spending, something about gold
plated toilet seats? To whom does the blame really target, for this kind of
wasteful atrocity? You know dam well that some government official, like the
one who controls the purse-strings, isn’t asking for this kind of abuse. So
maybe the fault exists with the supplier - with us citizens that is - taking
advantage of the situation upon too big a government with deep pockets. To
begin with, who fills those pockets? Lets face it, there is a citizenship
behind the mask of business. This mask can be that of the CEO, a stockholder
all the way around to the janitor. Now maybe it is the current business climate
that allows ripping off Uncle Sam. We can’t continue to steal from the hand
that protects us, so maybe it is time for a refresher on ethics, that
self-policing attribute within all of us that begs for respectfulness. But
isn’t this what capitalism is all about? If it is, this type of society is
doomed! Just think of a society that steals for survival. Hey if it is OK to
steal from Uncle Sam, what makes it not OK to steal from your neighbor, when
uncle doesn’t have what you want? Capitalism is based on what you want, not
what you need. Have we passed the point of no return? Some twenty-five years
has expired since the “gold” toilet seat scandal was made public. Have things
changed? Or has this type of behavior just taken on a new face of coveted evil?
I work at a government location that received some “pork” to renovate the
building, an old and decrepit looking facility. Pork comes in all types of
shapes, forms and flavors up here in Alaska. Ted, our senior senator whose goal
is to trump Strom as the oldest representative to haunt the Halls of Congress,
well he is known as the “Pork King”. He even provides funding - courtesy the
taxpayer - so sport fishermen can buy new outboard motors. It has something to
do with the environment. Yes indeed, somebody did a study of the world renowned
Kenai River. The Kenai is known for its King Salmon. The study was funded by
“pork” and the results were manipulated to get more “pork”. Sometimes it comes
in barrels! At issue was the amount of oil that small outboard motors
discharged into the river, some ten thousand gallons. It all goes back to what
I am trying to get at. If that kind of abuse were true, it would be a dead
river. The only abuse here is the fact finder and those that take advantage of
the boat motor replacement program. As far as the building that is my place of
mediocre employment, there is no problem spending a few bucks for a new coat of
paint or even some plumbing that doesn’t sound like a freight train moving down
the tracks when the heater is engaged. I didn’t pay too much attention to
details of the re-model project, except for one peculiar facelift. The bathroom
stalls were really “motif” outdated. Four walls and a toilet is all one really
needs to do “the business”, but the amount of time spent in the throne away
from home throne warrants some degree of comfort – especially with privacy and
air exchange! So it was time to upgrade the stalls. Everything the government
does seems to follow a time tested ritual. Here it meant a contract for the
painter, a contract for the plumber, a contract for the bathroom expert. That
is good business practice. It basically spells out what the buyer expects from
the supplier. The bid that went out for the bathroom upgrade was typical. It
was specific as far as what materials were required for the remodeling job and
had more to do with fire codes then style. So the contract called for ceramic
tiles wall-to-wall and ceiling to floor. Ceramic tiles have come a long way,
especially with textures and colors. Now the contract also stated that the
successful contractor would receive the prevailing rate for applying the new
tile. That is how Uncle Sam does business. Prevailing rates are determined by
many socioeconomic factors. It is especially beneficial up here in Alaska, as
everything takes on horrendous transportation costs. In this case, the contract
spelled out the prevailing rate of $3.58 per installed stall tile. That rate
was supposed to include the tile materials - required to be manufactured in the
U.S. - the wall and floor surface preparation and grouting. A visit to the
local “Home Depot” verified that the advertised price was in-line with what a
contractor would charge a homeowner. And the contract definitions and language
were specific in pointing out a set profit margin for the contractor.
Unfortunately, the contract did not specify the size of the tiles required to
be installed by the contractor, re-iterating the fact that the remodeling
contract had to only follow something called the BICSI standards. So the
contract was let-out. Now contractors are pretty shrewd when it comes to
ripping off Uncle Sam, screwing you and I over that is! The 5’ by 8’ stall
could have been remodeled with approved tile at a reasonable cost, when using
normal sized tiles. But remember, the contract only mentioned that the
contractor would be paid the prevailing rate of $3.58 per tile. So the
contractor decided to use the smallest tile size available. Yes indeed, 1”x1”
tile was this scoundrels choice. So what would have cost a meager $10,000.00
dollars - as there existed ten stalls to be re-modeled - and netted the
contractor a fixed fee somewhere in the neighborhood of $600.00 dollars, it
cost the taxpayer twelve times that amount! Sure this creative manipulation
allowed Joe “Greencard” Stone-Setter a few extra days wages, and it netted the
contractor Hal I. Burton a golden goose! This guy made out. The bottom line,
this contractor threw ethics out the bathroom window. Would he do the same at
his own home? I really doubt it. Small tile looks pretty ugly to begin with.
Would he get away with it with the homeowner? He could try but he may find
himself in the un-employment line or the threat of a new pair of concrete
shows, a deep river to boot. So when we hear the entire world getting down on
Tom Delay, maybe we best look at ourselves and how we present ourselves. Are we
role models for our representatives or should it be vise-versa. As citizens, we
should be the leaders and our elected officials should follow our desires. If
we are just all followers, then we may as well begin following the lead of the
rip-off artists. Monkey see, monkey do! Oh one thing before I end. The bad
thing about the remodel project was the fact that it was fishing season. So
this contractor and his crew showed up only when it was raining out. I heard
one of the stone-setters talking about Hal getting a new boat motor for his
sport fishing boat! I would wager my next paycheck that the motor was courtesy
of Uncle Sam!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Classical Gas? NOT ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
Question from local reporter:
It
seems all internal correspondences from within your company indicates a
tendency to favor the transport of North Slope natural gas from the Prudhoe Bay
oil field via a controversial northern pipeline route. Could you or would you
confirm this rumor and explain why that route is favored over an all-Alaskan
land route? One that could create hundreds of jobs and bring natural gas to
towns and villages along the proposed route?
Answer
from Oil Company Big Wig I.M. Anonymous:
There is a reason for an
interest in the northern route as opposed to an all-Alaskan land route. Bottom
line is contamination. The natural gas in the North Slope formation is
contaminated. It is still marketable, but at an increased cost adjustment.
After some 30 years of what we in the explore to exploit industry call tertiary
oil recovery, the BTU energy content of the natural gas has sunk some 12 to 15
percent, caused by dilution. Many different recovery fluids were incorporated
as a sweeping agent, in efforts to extract more crude oil. That’s the “black”
gold we’re after. The business for us on the slope is crude oil, not natural
gas. Crude oil, from well to market, has many unknown and hidden costs. Such
costs are beneficial as it favors our top line. It allows big profit recovery.
But not the same with natural gas! We keep looking for loopholes, but its
tough. Natural gas is useable right out of the well. You could take a campfire
stove and plug it into a well and boil water. So we opted to contaminate the
natural gas in efforts to extract every drop of crude oil out of the formation.
Here it is in a nutshell. Take a barrel of crude oil that sells for $60.00 dollars.
Now multiply that figure times one and a half.
That is what we get for a barrel of oil. See what I mean, $90. Look at
those beautiful numbers. I bet Dick Cheney wish he had stayed in the oil
business, so true with George! I’m rich again today. So with that in mind, that
is why there has been for so many years a non-interest to extract and export
natural gas from the North Slope of Alaska. But now there is an interest, due
in part to escalating costs of natural gas to the consumers. In order to competitively
market the contaminated North Slope natural gas, considering the lower BTU
energy content, the gas would have to be treated or BTU enhanced through mixing
with large volumes of otherwise un-contaminated natural gas. And we’re talking
massive volumes. So where does one find such a means? Well, Canada! That is
what we get from a northern transport route. The gas from Prudhoe Bay will be
co-mingled with higher BTU gas from fields in Canada. By market, it will be
sellable at the price and profit margin we need. You see, we already have
interests in that foreign country. It’s convenient. We can also take advantage
of some hidden costs afforded with the northern route. Allowances that wouldn’t
be available with an all-Alaskan land route. So we favor the most profitable
route. And right now, it’s the northern route. Unless of course the Alaskan
lawmakers come forward with incentives! Maybe that could happen with Frank
calling the shots in Juneau. If not, it will be the northern route or no gas.
Now as far as your question about jobs with a land route? Job creation is not
our business. And neither is getting gas to the consumers. Were the big fish in
this business. We leave enough for the little guys, that’s how we share the
wealth!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
~ Green Snot NOT! ~
From the Chinook Journal of S. Pam MaGee
I am sure that most of you
readers have heard about the 10-second rule. Be honest! This restaurant rule
has been around as long as baked beans have soaked in the crock. It is used by
every one when working in the kitchen and in the security of one’s own home.
For those that may need a refresher, it deals with the allowed time that food -
such as chips and other munchies - can be dropped and remain on a rug or floor
and still be edible upon “quick response” retrieval. What’s a little cat hair?
Basically, it follows the “who knows, who sees” rule. The same rule from a set
of like rules used by individuals that like to pick their noses when in the
security of tank like SUV’s with tinted windows. How do I know they are picking
their nose? Come on now, it is that activity that has meaning when exercising
one’s constitutional right. It is one of those things that signifies unabated
freedom. Uncle Sam can’t see me! You don’t think George picks his nose when
sitting in the oval office? You don’t think he does the cheek shuffle and lets
out gas? Think about it, George can
hide a bugger where his dad put a bugger! Did you here about George’s first
desk when he moved into the Wicked House upon being selected to ruin the
country with Chief Un-Justice Rehnquist’s non-unanimous decision to derail the
people’s vote? The choice of desks bears a historical significance. There is Abe’s
desk. There is Dwight’s desk. I don’t remember exactly which one sat there from
the previous administration, as there wasn’t really time to move furniture
around, not with the 2000 election process in a stalemate. And the way the new
administration attacked the office - like first come, first to serve - well
George got stuck with the same desk that Bill had become comfortable with for
the past 8 years. Not to long into the term of office, George realized the
significance behind this desk, or should I say underneath this particular desk.
No it wasn’t dried up buggers, it was where Monica used to hang out, or take
charge of what was hanging out. That’s why I refer to this place as the
“wicked” house. Should have torched it and started over. Anyway, that desk was
quickly removed! Another anyway, the 10-second rule has been whittled down to
about 5-seconds. It has to do with food servers being forced into more and more
bang for their buck. My daughter recently accepted a job as a server in a first
class restaurant in Anchorage, Alaska. This city is the big time for Alaska. It
is also upbeat and cosmopolitan. Who’s laughing? Good food and spirit is
readily available here as would be found walking down one of the main streets
in New York City, the Big Apple. Anchorage is called the Big Cabbage. Did you
know that labor laws don’t protect waiters and servers? Maybe if the law did,
the food retrieval rule could be relaxed. It has to do with being in a hurry.
This is a time critical business, tighter then NASA constraints. Hey, you can
squash a launch, but not a lunch! Accidents happen. But servers can’t slow
down. See, if something falls off a plate, that one particular thing could
cause the entire course to be delayed under the sun lamps. It may mean a
prepared gourmet meal less satisfying then a Big Mac. It could upset people.
Let’s face it, a good steak has to be plated and ready to eat in 3-minutes. So,
the rule to retrieve airborne goodies from the floor of rest, it is acceptable.
It happens all the time. What’s a little mice hair anyway? Restaurants have
mice! Servers are on their feet the entire shift. They get no breaks. The
hourly wage for this trade goes lower and lower. Restaurantrepreneurs want more
of the take because they think the tips will offset the greed factor. That
would be acceptable and equitable if people weren’t so stingy with their
tipping. It is easy, 10% of any number is easy. Double that and you have 20%.
No adult left behind should have a problem with this math. Cheapskates deserve
not only mouse hairs, but mouse shit. Thought that was pepper did you! Waiters
and servers rely on the tips from satisfied customers to cushion the blow from
low hourly wages. So if a food order gets to the table on time, it means good
service. It should mean good tips. “You get what you pay for” doesn’t always
cut it in this business. It’s a reversal phenomena. What if tips were provided
before the meal was delivered and consumed? It could make a difference, it
would truly be a reversal of the reversal. Figure that out! But servers and
waiters continue to get screwed. Did you realize that any food order that
doesn’t cut it and ruins the entire meal, that can come as a penalty. That
happened to one server. The party refused to pay for the meal. And even though
no dedicated breaks are allowed, workers are allowed some semblance of a break
on their feet eating restaurant food, which is deducted from their hourly
wages. Well this one particular night there remained a negative balance for
this server. The no-paying party minus the diner and low tip count did him in.
I get a kick out of these individuals that will eat half the meal then complain
and refuse to pay. Like they work off of some halfway plan that is legally
justified and ethical. It is just like those dog owners that place their pet’s
shit in a plastic bag but leave the bag for somebody else to pick up. This is
mental thinking. Another thing, I don’t know why Americans waste money at
high-end establishments. They are always in a hurry. They only eat a portion of
what’s on the plate. And believe me, food cooked by a good chef has no place in
the annuals of leftovers. Maybe if everyone had the opportunity to spend 4 or 5
hours on their feet busing from here to there, it could easily mean a calorie
deprivation and maybe a clean plate. So the next time you find a green thing
that doesn’t taste like much, or a piece of hair, don’t complain and just move
on. Don’t hold a grudge. And don’t worry from where it came from as it is of
the servers and waiters own legal system. And go one step beyond, think of that
server or waiter as your own son or daughter trying to make a decent living!
Don’t be a Scrooge!
Copyright 2005 MSK Media
THE END AGAIN,
for now!