Truthing

I had to get up very early this morning -- 7:30 -- to appear at the Oklahoma Bar Association and testify for a friend who is seeking re-admission to the bar association.  I hadn't been up that early since 1995.  Luckily, I didn't oversleep, I fit into my suit, and I was on time.  I hate being under oath because my mind processes information differently than the brains found in normal people.  Plus, sometimes I just want to lie.

It went well, my testimony, and I like to think it may have helped a little.  I hope so.  In ten years, every living human will be an attorney, which means there will really be too many lawyers.  I don't care, as I'm planning to take off with the Mayans in December.  But we can always use more decent, honest, and moral attorneys, like the fellow for whom I spoke this morning.

Yet I am a great believer in Forgiveness and Redemption, and I was honored to be part of the proceeding.

***

At this point in the summer of 1979, I was working at Reagan for President in Los Angeles, the national headquarters, and where all the big shots of the campaign were located.  I was lucky to have that summer job, as I met a lot of people who'd go on to be famous and powerful in the Reagan Administration.  Lots of memories from that period of my life.  

One, I almost destroyed the entire campaign one afternoon when I hauled John Sears, Mike Deaver, Martin Anderson, and Jim Lake to the airport.  I wasn't paying much attention, I suppose (and that was before texting), and I came very close to getting us in a wreck.  Embarrassing, but it could have been much worse.

***

Lyn Nofziger was in charge of finance, or raising money, a task most of us would rather not do.  Lyn wasn't cut out for it, and he hated it, but he did it because he believed in the cause.  There was in those days a big time car dealer in California named Cal Worthington.  His commercials were famous because they were so cheesy and goofy, they were entertaining.  They also played all the time.  In most of the ads, Cal introduced us to his latest dog, who was always named Spot.  "I'm Cal Worthington, and this is my dog, "Spot."  However, Spot was always a tiger, an elephant, or any other animal BUT a dog.

In the 1980 campaign, people could give up to $1,000.00 to a presidential campaign.  That was the limit.  I was in Lyn's office one day when he opened an envelope from Cal Worthington.  It contained a check for a thousand bucks.  As was his custom, Lyn read and then answered the Worthington letter by scribbling his response right on the letter, which he mailed back to Cal.

Lyn's response, "The governor thanks you and I thank you, and do you think your dog Spot could send a thousand?"

*** 

 And this, of which I am kind of proud.  Follow me on the Twitter.

©2012 Randall P. Hodge, Esq., and Morningwood Enterprises, Ltd.

Cheese Whiz

Follow the link to see some nice pics.

Yes, this came from hideous facebook.

21 Pictures that will restore Your Faith in Humanity

Fun with Facebook

At the website from which this post originated, hundreds and hundreds of people left nasty comments about the Bible, God, Christians, Jesus, and The Waltons.  Countless F Bombs, spelling errors, and a wanton and reckless disregard for proper grammar. These people probably hate water.  I wanted to leave my own comment, "Why do you care?  YOU don't read it."  But I didn't, because angry people would say unkind things to me.  I'll say it again, atheists are the angriest people on earth.

At the website where this post originated, there were hundreds and hundreds of comments from people who believe in God, and who believe the Bible is His Word.  They are convinced they have been blessed by their faith, and particularly by studying the Good Book.  It may not be perfectly translated, but it will more than do in a pinch, or a foxhole, or in time of trouble.

The engineers and designers have tweeked facebook so many times, they've finally managed to ruin it.  It is now possible to miss a great deal of the great stuff people often post or share.  Until two re-designs ago, one could start at the top of the page of what was commonly referred to as the "feed," and then scroll down as far as desired.  Everything said, liked, or posted by your facebook friends would be there.  For some reason, only some of the items now appear in the feed, and I'm not sure where it all went.  They ruined a good thing, and that's that.

I caught a couple of posts today, one by our angry atheist friends, for whom the internet has been a lifeline to crawl out of hiding.  The other was about the Bible.

Atheists are always angry and fussy.  They tend to think Believers are the dumbest people in the world.

I was in a class once, and the topic had something to do with God or spirituality.  One person offered his assessment that atheists are the angriest people he had ever known.  He was cut off in mid-sentence by an atheist who wanted to know why this man had the gall to say such a thing.  He was angry.  I've left out the bad words.  His anger might have had something to do with him being fat, but I'm not sure.  He was angry.

Now the happiest, most well adjusted, accepting, and successful people I've ever known are people who believe in God, or a Supreme Being.

Facebook is a spectacular waste of time.  It has become a playground for people who like to offend, annoy, shock, or just make a mess.  In rare instances, though, it is a place to see uplifting, and often moving photos, comments, or links to inspiring articles. 

I've been fed up with facebook several times, and I've even de-activated my account.  Others I know have quit and then come back.  A few will stay quit.  After this latest round of changes, I concluded the web designers went too far.  They messed it up.  Facebook does not listen to its users.  They never fix it back.  

If all I'm going to see when I log into facebook are a bunch of photos posted by angry atheists, then I'd just as soon get on Twitter.  There I find lots of angry little people like me, who like to join hands, hum, and hate on President Obama.  Guess for whom atheists will vote?

I dunno.  Atheists annoy me because most are so "in your face" about it.  It isn't enough for them not to believe in God.  I'm not sure why, but it bugs me the same way it would bug me if someone insulted a dear friend, or a relative.  I think they know that, but it doesn't matter; it's all part of the angry thing they have.

Don't get me started on atheists, especially fat ones.

Or facebook.

By the way, the internet ruined the world.

(c) 2012 Randall P. Hodge, Esq., and Morningwood Enterprises, Ltd.

In which a Cat.

I am a big fan of pets that were rescued from shelters.  I lucked out when I adopted the best cat who ever lived.

I picked her out because she was so friendly and purry, even at the adoption place.  I also picked her because she had perhaps the least desirable markings.  Who would want this cat?  No idea what breed(s) were mixed in, but she was a mutt.  I like mutts, and the colors grew on me over time.  

I thought she was beautiful.  Beautiful in every way a cat can be beautiful.  

I used to loathe cats.  This one taught me to love and appreciate them.

Most cats don't like to be picked up.  She didn't especially like it, but she'd let me, and I could hold her for a little while if I didn't overdo it.  Some cats aren't big on being petted.  Mine was, and she sort of forced me to notice her and pet her, no matter what I was doing.  

All the time I had this cat, I could never think of a name for her, so she was "Big Kitty," which is so dumb I always hated to provide her name to the vet.  Yeah, her name is Tabby or Fluffy.  I hate naming cats, as it isn't as if they come when I call.  I settled on Big Kitty because she was big, and that is about as inventive and creative as I get. 

All the time this cat lived with me, she never scratched me. Not once. That is unusual.  Somehow she knew about the claws, and to retract them.  

She was almost too affectionate. She had no vices -- unlike her human. She was just there with me.  My friend.  She did her job every day, and into the dark quiet hours of the night.  Whatever I was doing or up to, she was there.  In the picture below, one of my favorites, she was helping me in the yard.

The cat taught herself to talk, but she only spoke German.  She did this because she loved getting treats. She correctly concluded that speaking German is the way to get things from me. Whenever I went into the kitchen, she followed, and she'd pester me for a handful of them.  Her accent was a tad Bavarian, which was appropriate, albeit not particularly relevant.

She was only four or so.  I know nothing about her past life.  I only know she was such an awesome cat, I tried to make her life with me as swell as possible.  She never exhibited any symptoms or issues.  I always had her doctored and vaccinated as needed.  She was always alert and active and playful -- until very early Sunday morning.   

She died, as they do.  I don't know what was wrong with her.  She was panting, which is something I'd never seen her do.  I hoped she'd get over it, but there wasn't much time for contemplation.  Her breathing became more labored, and then she was gone.

My pets like to die on Sundays for some reason.

Whatever happened to her, she was gone so quickly there wouldn't have been time to take her to the emergency veterinary hospital.  Whatever it was, it was bad enough I doubt they could have saved her.

She brought so much good stuff to my life.  I hope she is somewhere, if there is somewhere.

And so another bad thing in 2012, my own Annus Horribilis.

December 21st can't get here quickly enough.  Bring it on, Mayans.

(c) 2012 Randall P. Hodge, Esq., and Morningwood Enterprises, LLC

Memorial Day

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.

Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.

They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,

They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

We will remember them.

From Ode to Remembrance, by Laurence Binyon (1914)