The Commander In Chief Has The Vapors.... Again

The Forty Second (42nd) President of The United States of America and his loving spouse must remember that although they currently reside in New York and rub elbows with high society they are the Clintons from Arkansas - not the Kennedy's from Massachusetts.

Bill Clinton having made the point, speaking on the stump in the 2008 Presidential campaign, that he cannot make Hillary younger and that he can't make her male, must surely understand that he can't bequeath her Presidential experience or powers by osmosis or any other means.

The lady from Arkansas who would not bake cookies found herself playing a stewardess on "Hill One" and serving donoughts to the press minions. So she may have limited experience as a waitress, and that could serve her well in the future.

At least, she has proven herself to be a mediocre actress who just might have the ability to weep on cue.

Perhaps it can be put in terms the Clintons can understand if they can visualize the Razor Backs. The Arkansas football team has an equipment manager and a water boy among others, and these kids rub elbows with the coaching staff, the real players, and the quarterback but in the final analysis irrespective of their team and personal pride they are easily replaceable support staff - not the team stars.

Occasionally these kids get caught up in the whole heady experience and forget their place. Caught up in the moment they imagine themselves kings and king makers; and thinking they run things, they begin to usurp those titles and powers that belong to others. Finding it easier to usurp work accomplished by others and assume their accolades than to earn your own, they at least try to do just that until the young lady who is unlucky enough to be the object of their affections is forced to put them in their place.

Having pushed, intimidated, and bullied their way through life the Clintons apparently actually thought they had replaced the Kennedy's as America's premier political family. They assumed and usurped Jack Kennedy's mantle until his brother Ted Kennedy, the Senator from Massachusetts publicly anointed another.

Suddenly the would be Commander In Chief who insists she wears the pants suits in her house suffers from the southern lady syndrome and suffering from the vapors comes out weeping appropriately to evoke the heart stings of any gentleman. It is inconceivable to the Tennessee Mountain Man that one can simultaneously be both the tough experienced Commander In Chief of the earth's only super power and a wilting violent in need of a woman's wiles to get her way. Itis nothing short of illusion and witchcraft.

Twenty Eight (28) years of Bush and Clinton are more than enough for the computerman. America is ready for and wants a new direction... new blood... new leadership. If they were running again for the highest office in the land in any other country, America (democrats and republicans alike) would be up in arms. The Computer Man is reminded of the fire storm surrounding the George and Lurleen Wallace comedy hour. Does America want that scenario for the nation? Have we learned nothing? Or, are we simply so politically correct and self loathing that we can't help ourselves?

No matter which way the country goes, it is back to the future! The remote help desk team believes the question to be, do we want Kennedy's Camelot or Clinton's chicanery. Does the United States want the visionary Kennedy's hope or Clinton's divisiveness with no inspiration? On the other hand there is a grumpy, angry, old white man for those who don't know who they are or where they stand on any particular issue from day to day.

Perhaps if Hillary would just buck up and stop whining to MSNBC and the public. She could take a lesson from the Tennessee Mountain Man's girlfriend who on coming across the Mountain Man in a lounge with another young lady and reading too much into the situation, swayed up to the bar and placing her hands on his leg thrust her tongue into his ear. Then whispered, "Honey, make me jealous. If I get jealous, I get hurt and then I get over it. But, please, don't make me mad. Because if I get angry, I will snatch that bitch off that bar stool and mop up the floor with her. Then I will jerk her up by hair of her head and beat you with what is left." No matter what your politics, that is the "the straight talk express".

How many times must the world see Hillary melt in her mint julep suffering the vapors to plead her case and persuade the masses?

Surely Mahmoud Ahmadinejad (محمود احمدی‌نژا) and Osama bin Muhammad bin 'Awad bin Laden ( أسامة بن محمد بن عوض بن لادن‎; ) were duly impressed.

Publication of Burk Pendergrass, J.D., a Cherokee Indian and Viet Nam Vet specializing in computerman website design computermanwebsitedesign.bravehost.com/ and remotehelpdesk1.com/ specializing in online computer repair. Reprint authorized with credits.

Super Delegates vs. Electoral College

Grand Pa's Republic

All of his life, the Tennessee Mountain Man has heard the call to exercise your right to vote. Even fighting in one of the country's wars was not sufficient in the eyes of many. Voting was some how more than a right, it was a constitutional requirement of any and every son of the United States.

That worked well while America's back room whiskey swigging, cheap cigar puffing, wheelers and dealers enjoyed an illiterate voting public. Then along came Sam! No... not the cartoon character, Yosemite Sam, nor the gunslinger immortalized in song, but our Uncle Sam. The uncle fed prodigiously by President Lyndon B. Johnson in pursuit of the Great Society.

Forget a chicken in every pot! What America needed was a new car in every drive, money in the hands and pockets of everyone to buy the junk food they craved... forget the government cheese. Every day of his senior years the Computer Man's maternal grand pa asked grand ma for some jingling money, and having received same set off for the county square.

Grand pa made sure he had in his pockets his sharpest folding knife, his old old pocket watch which he set at noon everyday with the sounding of the surrounding factory lunch whistles, a stick of cedar for whittling, a twist of King-B for chewing, and a little pocket change for jingling... grand pa was now prepared for his day, indeed for the remainder of his days.

Wearing his worn out gray felt hat, grand dad would set out walking down the street. The state had long ago taken his drivers license and his children had finally taken all of his automobiles. Not that anyone wanted them. The last one the computerman recalls had the startling ability to be hand cranked. One need not necessarily be concerned with the state of the battery. It represented the old man's last ditch effort at his brand of freedom and to have a car no one would take from him. It didn't work. He was simply not safe on the road nor was anyone on the road with him safe.

As he walked along his way, grand pa jingled the little bit of coins grand ma had provided for his pockets and sang old book songs from the Hardshell Baptist Hymnal. You know... they only sang the notes, not the words... yours truly never understood that, but I digress.

Upon arriving at his destination, grand pa took a seat along side the other old timers gathered outside the Jackson County Courthouse in Scottsboro, Alabama, just before dawn, and producing his pocket knife and a newly split piece of cedar that cost him two bits he began to smooth off the edges of the stick preparing for a full day of "visiting, reminiscing, conversation and piddling". Oh! The smell of that cedar, and the sound of his booming voice which reverberated around the square.

What does grand pa have to do with anything? Well, he was not always an old man ignored by most and simply forgotten by others. No, grand dad, a Justice Of The Peace in his day, was one of those back room shakers and movers in one party or the other in the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s. He knew the system inside and out. He was a ward captain. He decided who run for what office and made sure however he had to, including a little well placed hooch - and just maybe some of that walking around or as he called it jingling money, who got elected.

Grand dad used to say he was a republican for one reason and one reason only. I just can't remember what that reason was. Shades of the old man, I suppose. What I can be sure of is grand pa's generation never conceived of super delegates for either party. Not withstanding the republican and democratic parties are both private entities, and as such they can allow and restrict membership as they see fit. They can nominate and withhold as they wish. They and they alone decide who their power base, movers and shakers, and insiders are.

What has this to do with a democracy? Not nearly as much as grand dad had to do with politics in Alabama. As the Tennessee Mountain Man perceives the democrats since the days of LBJ to slide more and more toward socialism and the republicans to move more and more to fill the democratic shoes of yore he feels the need for independent involvement in the American Political process. A painful and foreboding journey to be sure.

Grand pa, although a self professed republican, always believed President Lyndon Johnson to be on the right track although improperly executed. He long wanted to abolish the electoral college in favor of the popular vote - the nemeses of professional politicians. Today, I often wonder how many times the old man has rolled over in his grave considering how dumb Americans have become as the state has spent more and more to educate the masses. It seems, the more we learn about less and less, the more we dumb down.

Along with the computerman, grand pa's question, today, I believe, would be "super delegates!... where in heaven's name (like that phrase? It stops the holier than thou crowd's sausage grinder dead in it's tracks!) did my republic go?".

Burk Pendergrass, J.D., a Cherokee Indian and Viet Nam Vet specializing in computerman website design and remote online computer repair