Apr 122017

Last night (well, early this morning, because Lea told me it was 4 or so when I mumbled something about the dream to her) I dreamed that in exchange for some announcing and DJ work I had done, I had been given four tickets to an ABBA concert in Birmingham. Yes, the boys would enjoy that, and it was a schoolnight, but surely this was worth it, blah blah blah.

Except I was also standing around having this incredibly vapid argument with a bunch of people about the nature of the power outage we were having. (For some reason this part of the dream was set roughly in the Martin’s parking lot, across from Quintard Mall, at 78 and Quintard in Oxford.) Nothing electrical was working, whether it ran on mains electricity or not.

“It’s the substation. They’ll have it back on in a minute,” some idiot looking over his glasses at me sniffed. “Then why did your car quit?” I replied. “Why won’t your cell phone power up?” “What happened to her iPod?” “Only an electromagnetic pulse would take all of this out simultaneously, which may well mean the country has been attacked with nuclear weapons,” I said. Laughter all around.

I shook my head, walked away, and pulled my ABBA tickets out of my pocket. I smiled, but then I thought “well, if there’s a nuclear war, then there probably won’t be an ABBA concert.” Then I woke up.

 Posted by at 10:37 am
Apr 102017

Governor Robert Bentley is expected to resign this week, possibly after negotiating a plea for lesser charges than those outlined in his articles of impeachment. (UPDATE: He has done exactly that this evening. Robert Bentley is no longer governor of Alabama.)

Sadly, I expect just about anyone who makes it in Alabama politics to be a crook. Mostly, I yawn. (And I do hope there is a shining exception who will run for governor sometime soon.) But, though it is the crook aspects of this debacle that will have ultimately brought Bentley down legally, it is mostly a tale of adultery.

And you know what? The adultery itself is not even what ultimately enraged me. In the first place, all fall short of the glory of God. In the second place, he would hardly be the first old, powerful man who got an attractive woman several decades his junior to play with his pee-pee and let it confuse him into thinking stupid things.

No, what kept me furious was that he was so defiant and unapologetic. There would be no morning of clarity; no reconsideration by a sound, responsible mind of such a highly questionable course. At the end of his life, having apparently jettisoned every shred of honor and dignity he ever had, there would be no “my God, what have I done?” moment.

Instead, he would rub our noses in it—most shamefully, that of Dianne Bentley, his wife of 50 years. Who but a true monster could subject such a person to such sustained cruelty and humiliation? Who but a delusional fool could look the electorate in the eye and tell us we’re just going to have to get over it, because he’s not resigning?

Oh, Governor? You wanna bet?

Hey, next let’s make a wager on how long you hang onto your mistress when you’re just a nasty duplicitous old man and not the governor!

Get out of our house, you miserable old creep.

 Posted by at 10:13 am
Apr 042017

When I was 12 years old, I don’t remember what I said I wanted to be when I grew up. I remember what my classmate Shannon said, though. He wanted to be a bulldozer owner/operator. He had it all worked out. He was going to get a secondhand dozer, live in a trailer, and work […]

 Posted by at 2:45 pm
Mar 282017

There is a thoughtful piece on Rocket City Mom about how to talk to your kids about pornography. Obviously, that’s a different discussion now than it was thirtysomething years ago when I first hit puberty. My “pornographic” education was rather tamer. At 12 I saw the video for Don Felder’s “Bad Girls,” and just…whew. Wow. […]

 Posted by at 10:01 pm

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