I sent away for the National Geographic Genographic Project DNA kit a couple of months ago. Just recently, I have found out some things about the migratory route of my ancestors. It seems that all non-African men in the world share a common male ancestor, who lived in what is now modern day Kenya or Tanzania about 60,000 years ago. My ancestors traveled from Africa to what is now Iran, then onto the Balkans and into the Iberian Peninsula. They were probably forced there by the Ice Age. My most recent ancestor identified in the project, was among the people who left the Iberian Peninsula and populated Europe after the Ice Age. I have a DNA marker called M253, which is still found in high frequency in Northwest Europe. Something like 50% of all Scandinavian men share M253. Of course, if you are among the anti-evolution, New Earth crowd, all this is just bogus. Here's something else. There are a lot of reason to vote for Obama over McCain, but Wesley Clark's assessment of McCain's military record is not among them. According to Clark, McCain's long naval career, his service as a fighter pilot and his five-year incarceration as a POW, don't qualify McCain to lead this country. Hogwash. Wesley Clark is the same asshole who claimed that John Kerry's service in Vietnam made him especially qualified to be President. What a bag of crap. How about we have an election about the issues, not surrogates running around trashing the other guy? Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Sister Mary Joseph was delighted, to say the least. A nun comes into a hardware store dragging a floor lamp. Sounds like the first line of a joke, but it isn't. Sister Mary Joseph came in a few days ago with the aforementioned lamp. It seems that the on/off switch was in a permanent state of off, leaving the good Sister unable to enjoy her nun-related reading materials. Now Merle Sneed does not go out of is way to encourage reading such nun-related stuff as the Bible or the Nun's Guide To The Universe, but when a four-foot nun plants herself and her lamp directly in your path, there's no escaping. They possess special powers unknown to regular mortals. She started by telling me a woeful tale of her attempts get the lamp fixed, with a special emphasis on how she was just a poor nun, with little in the way of liquid assets. It seems the lamp repair guys want a hefty fee (at least by impoverished nun standards) to even look at the thing. She tossed out an estimate of forty dollars, plus parts. Sister Mary Joseph told me completely unashamedly that it finally dawned on her to drag the lamp to the hardware store and throw herself on the mercy of an unsuspecting hardware schmuck. That's where I come in. When I explained that we didn't have the right part to fix the lamp, she confidently assured me that, "you will figure it out". "And by the way,", she added sweetly, "when you get it fixed, would someone be able to drive it to my house?" These nuns are real manipulators. The lamp sat for a couple of days and yesterday I finally thought to ask my buddy at work, Bill, to take a look at it. Bill has worked at the store forever and he knows all. He took a look and said that he thought we might have the switch "somewhere". After a bit of rooting around, he found it. It only took about ten minutes to change out the switch and test the lamp. No sooner had I finished, than I got a call from the Sister, asking if it was done. Like she didn't already know. I told her that she could come and pick it up. She hemmed and hawed for a bit, hoping I would offer to deliver it, it think. Finally she said she would be right over to get it. I steeled myself so that her powerful nun mind control could not get to me, but I found myself thinking that I could drop it off after work. I forced myself to slam down the phone's handset. Sister showed up later in the morning to pick up the lamp. She feigned surprise that the repair was only ten bucks, the cost of the part. "No labor charge", she asked? I wasn't sure if it was a question or a command. Merle Sneed cannot be manipulated by some pint-sized nun. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

I missed posting on Transportation Thursday because I was busy with the usual suspects playing golf , going out to lunch and a bunch of other stuff. I could have used a bit of transportation at the golf course in the form of a golf cart yesterday. We are at the beginning of our rainy season and it was hot and muggy. The Seafood King and I walked the course which struck me as idiotic. He insists on walking and following him around the course in a cart is reminiscent of the famous O.J. Simpson low-speed chase.  So I walked.

Our fourth player yesterday was an 88-year-old guy named Nick.  He was a character.  I hope I'm still playing at eighty-eight.  Hell, I hope I'm still here at eighty-eight.

Transportation Thursday reminds me of when my old dad bought the Honda Civic that I now enjoy.  Dad grew too old to drive and sold it to Son Sneed.  When Son Sneed's medical issues rendered him unable to legally drive, I bought the car.

I took my dad to the local Honda dealer to make the big purchase.  My dad was not what you would call a savvy shopper.  Mostly he paid full sticker for everything.  He didn't want to insult the salesman and dealer by trying to lowball them.  As if they can be insulted.

Dad picked out the Civic, we test drove it and the negotiations were on.  I told him that the first rule of these negotiations was that he was to keep his big trap shut.

The dealer wanted $15,200 for the car.  I countered with an offer of $12,900 (the invoice price was $12,700).  The salesman went away and returned with a counter-offer of $14,200.  Before I could say a word,  old /dad blurted out, "Sold!".  If looks could kill.

My dad loved the car, thought he had hit the jackpot on the price and had several years of happy motoring.  A good deal no matter the few bucks I might have still wrangled out of the dealer.

Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

I was waiting by my mailbox for the mailman to deliver Kurt's fine publication when I was attacked by desperadoes and who smashed my lawn chair. I'm hoping to have it repaired by tommow so I can resume my vigil.

More excitement today on the new plan at work. They put up a giant white board in the break room that will be used to communicate with the little people. This should prove invaluable. How could it not?

I did a little calculation in my spare time. Our store has six people whose job it is to wait on customers. Cumulatively we work about 230 hours per week. The store is open 75 hours per week, meaning that on average there are 3 sales people working at any given time. Is it me or is a plan to better utilize three people seem a bit odd? Oh well, it is not for me to understand.


Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Attentive readers will recall that we are in the midst of a major training initiative at the hardware store. An initiative, that if successful, will increase profitability five percent. That is a noble and exciting goal if your name is Mr. and Mrs. Owner. If you are Merle Sneed, hardware schmuck, the eager anticipation is more restrained. After all, as Janis Joplin once sang, "Retail's just another word for nothing left to lose". Or she would have if she hadn't died an early death. For the rest of us, and by us, I mostly mean me, the main focus of concern is having to endure the crush of new buzz words associated with the new program. To be sure that these bits of organizational jargon take root and grow, the store manager and assistant manager have made it a point to really work them into their daily store chatter. The main focus of the plan is to "work smarter", so that we have more time to spend with the customers. The old "work smarter". That's code for squeezing the last bit of life out of the little people. Luckily, I've been to this battle many times over the last forty years and I know what the bosses don't know. That their war is not my war. So, I will continue to do my best, despite the meddling from headquarters. Most of the time they are so busy administering the new plan, that the results get lost. A guy who keeps his head down and his nose clean, largely goes unnoticed. Now that's a plan.

Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

George Carlin

"Religion convinced the world that there's an invisible man in the sky who watches everything you do. And there's 10 things he doesn't want you to do or else you'll to to a burning place with a lake of fire until the end of eternity. But he loves you! ...And he needs money! He's all powerful, but he can't handle money!"--George Carlin.

One of the funniest things that I ever heard Carlin say was in speculating on why the murdering scum, O.J. Simpson, killed his wife and Ron Goldman.  According to George, "Maybe they had it coming."

That quote is outrageous, insensitive and ridiculous.  It is trademark Carlin.

Do yourself a favor and go to YouTube to walk down memory lane with George Carlin.






Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Well, things are back in full swing here at Sneed headquarters, following our vacation. I had to attend the monthly meeting at our store this morning. We had a talk from a corporate big shot about how we can make the store more efficient and thus more profitable. What was missing from the discussion was how this was going to translate into more moolah for the little people. Some people might argue that the payoff for the little folks is that they get to keep their jobs, but since retail work is not hard to find, that isn't really isn't much of a motivator. Have you ever met someone with a noble idea that you just know will end badly? My mom used to tell us that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. My mom could be a downer. Yesterday I had a customer, an old lady, who came into the store dragging a beleaguered 'old lady' shopping cart. The kind that you can push to the store and bring home a couple of grocery bags in. It was old, beaten up and missing one wheel. She told me that she retrieved it from the trash and had a plan to use it, assuming she could find another wheel. It seems that she lives in the old folks complex around the corner from the store and she is troubled that many of the residents bring home their groceries in the store's carts, which they dump outside her building. It is up to the store to come and retrieve them, which she thinks is unfair and inconsiderate. Her plan is to fix up the discarded cart and leave it outside her door for the use of shoppers in the complex. Her only condition is that they return it when they are done. I wasn't able to find a matching wheel for her cart, so she decided to buy two new ones and by the time she left the store, she had spent about $25 to repair the old cart. A new cart costs about $40 to $50, so I guess it was still a good enough deal. I hope her plan works for her, but knowing human nature, I suspect her cart will be pilfered in short order. You have to admire her intentions. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

One Hundred and Plenty

Is there anything more fun than a boatload of nuns?




Back in the fifties, right after Disneyland opened, I can recall my mother telling her friend that she would like to take the four kids to see the Magic Kingdom but it would cost at least a hundred bucks and required two days to fully see it. To put that into perspective, a hundred bucks in 1959 is worth $709 today, when adjusted for inflation. Needless to say, we never made it to Disneyland. Luckily, I've been about a hundred times since we have had kids and their kids.

I came back to the torture that is our summer. It is in full swing. The high temps are between 105 and 110, it is 107 at the moment. Fortunately, the humidity is only four percent, which makes 107 feel like, well 107. This dry heat business is bullsh*t, you can't put a positive spin on 107, except that it is going to be 109 tomorrow.

The first thing that I noticed as I drove up to the house was the sad conditions of my roses in the front. This mystified me because they are on drip irrigation. The roses in the back look great, so I knew something bad was up. The something bad turned out to be a break in the irrigation line to the front yard, right under the driveway. Right where is can't be fixed. I have a temporary line run on top of the ground, but this is going to be a mess to fix.

Also it was back to work today and after seven days off, it was a challenge to drag myself there. The heat is making the customers grouchier than normal. I walked over to a guy today to ask if he needed help and he shouted at me to get away from him, because he was "sick of being bothered." Only the famous Sneed restraint kept the situation from escalating. I didn't even tell him that he looked like a jackass with his little cellphone thingy on his ear.

I predict that my hardware career will crash over something I tell a customer to do with himself.





























Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Well, we made it home from the Happiest Place On Earth and I have to say it was a pretty swell vacation.

I noticed some things while walking or standing behind people.


I'm not sure that this is this guy's best look.

The Merle Sneed blog questions the value of pain as an instiller of pride. "I got hit six times with that hammer and still finished out my shift. That's pride, Dude."

Sneed blog policy prohibits staff members over 21 from wearing sports jerseys. Evidently this fellow works at a less prideful organization, as painful as that is to say.

This is what the Disneyland traveler hopes to avoid. These 'class of ' people travel in unruly packs.

Horrible accident or birth defect? Either way, it was sad to see.

Pull to open.


If you can't see it...


I apologize to the Mohawk guy.


I'm running out of skin!


Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

My favorite little guys are I are off to see friends for a few days. Be back on Wednesday.


Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Tim Russert

From Emily Dickenson's poem Death

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

My son just called me to tell me the news that Tim Russert had died. I feel sick over the news.

I considered Mr. Russert to be the most level-headed voice in public media and an American icon. Who can forget Tim and his white board on election night? He was an old-time, New Deal Democrat, a vanishing breed.

On a personal note, I am 37 days older than Russert, so this hits close to home for me. It is one thing to brag that you don't care about dying, but it is quite another to have such a close contemporary die, especially so suddenly and without warning. It is a stark reminder that time marches on.


Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Bridge Over Troubled Water

The theme for today was bridges. Here in our part of the desert we have no real bodies of water that need bridging, but we do have bridges over the dry washes and rivers for those occasions when we are deluged. This is the First Avenue Bridge over the Rillito River taken a couple of summers ago. It's all I got. Even though I am legendary for my mild-mannered disposition, sometimes trouble just finds me. Usually in the form of some insufferable ignoramus. I was out with the usual suspects this morning playing a friendly round of golf. The sky was blue, the weather hot, but not terribly so. I was playing pretty good by my standards. Nothing to mar the day, or so you would think. On the fifteenth hole, I pushed my second shot slightly right and while the ball was in the air, a fellow on the next hole stepped from behind a tree and into the line of the flight of the ball. I immediately yelled "fore" as did Some Guy Named Bob, The Seafood King and Seafood's brother who is in town for a visit. Fortunately, the ball landed short of where the fellow was standing and rolled harmlessly toward him. Being a gracious sort of guy, I walked over and said, "Sorry, I hope I didn't hit you." Him, being less gracious than me, replied, "You need to learn to yell "fore" quicker. You yelled just as the ball got to me." Those who know Merle Wayne Sneed, also know that sentences beginning, "You need to learn...", are not well received by Merle Wayne Sneed. I suggested that he 'bite me', since 'sorry' had proved inadequate. Perhaps, upon reflection, I could have been more diplomatic. Well, this just made him indignant. He could not fathom why I would be offended by my apology being answered with a lecture from a wagging nitwit. Before you know it, everyone was yelling at everyone. Luckily, it was contained to a bunch of hollering. I think the moral of the story here is, there's no pleasing some people. That's the moral, right? Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Roses

Some days it seems like the only good news is that the roses are blooming.

Iceberg floribunda. Floribunda roses flower in clusters. This rose has very little scent.


One of my favorites, Granada, a hybrid tea rose. Pink with just a tinge of yellow.


I got this rose with Mrs. Sneed in mind. It is another hybrid tea called, Diana, Princess of Wales. Mrs. Sneed like millions of other women, loved Diana.

One of the down sides to working is that I don't have time to fool with the flowers as much as I would like.

Yesterday was the funeral for Officer Erik Hite, a Tucson police officer killed in the line of duty a few days ago. Officer Hite, age 43, was a twenty-one year Air Force veteran and a four year police officer.

If you have ever seen a police funeral, you know that they are hugely attended affairs. Even by police standards Officer Hite's funeral was big. It was attended by hundreds of officers from various agencies, former colleagues, friends, family, our governor, mayor and other public officials.

Yesterday on my way to work I passed along the route to the cemetery where Officer Hite was buried and there were already people in lawn chairs lining the route his funeral procession would take five hours later. Our high yesterday was 104.

Officer Hite's funeral procession stretched eleven miles. The last car leaving the church left just as the hearse carrying his body reached the cemetery. That is an amazing tribute to Officer Hite.






Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Nan Patience made a good point in a comment. Since my golf gets worse the more I play, she suggests that I would be fabulous if I didn't play at all. She may be on to something. Maybe I can just ride along with the Seafood King and Some Guy Named Bob and tell them how I would do it, if I was actually golfing. Plus that would be way cheaper. Speaking of being fabulous, it turns out that my boss thinks I am awesome and that is better than fabulous. The reason I know this is that she gave me a thank you card for going above and beyond at work. The card read in part, "You're awesome!" So it must be true. Unless it's not true, because she also posted a mistake I made on the employee bulletin board, for the world to see. Talk about your mixed messages. The mistake was this. I ordered something for a customer and gave her a pickup date. Unbeknownst to me, I missed some deadline or another for ordering and the item didn't arrive on time. It will be three days late. The boss already told me all of this, but she evidently felt the need to post the offending order form on the bulletin board, perhaps in case I had forgotten. She wrote, "Must be in by 2PM!", across the form. I wrote, "OK!!" on it, so she would be sure that I understand and that I take this gaffe seriously. I'm glad that's cleared up, it would be a shame were this to scar my permanent record. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Somehow I forgot to post anything on Saturday or Sunday. I guess I was busy. I seems the more golf I play, the worse I become. This has always been my pattern and today was no exception. Play once a week and I'm not too bad. Twice a week and I get worse. It makes no sense. Me and the usual suspects went to play this afternoon after lunch, because apparently we enjoy the heat. It was 101 degrees this afternoon, but luckily for us the humidity was only six percent. One-oh-one is still hot, but it is not the oppressive heat the East is currently suffering through. The Seafood King insisted upon walking the course, leaving Some Guy Named Bob and me free to ride a cart. The Seafood King seems to have the need to prove he is more manly than Bob and me. I cannot speak for Bob, but I will gladly stipulate that fact. I don't need to die of heat stroke trying to disprove it. The excitement is building here at Casa Sneed. This coming Saturday, the Lovely Mrs. Sneed and I, along with Noah, Aiden and Aiden's parents will be jetting off to a major theme park in the Souther California area for five days of family fun. Blogging may be sporadic. Stop cheering. I am in the process of trying out a bunch of techniques for increasing the gas mileage that my Civic gets. I read an article in our local paper about something called high miling. Nan Patience also posted about this recently. High miling involves things like driving more slowly and coasting where possible. Some people report getting up to thirty percent better mileage by consciously developing gas saving habits. Mrs. Sneed claims that this is just more evidence that I am a kook. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Dude

One of the things that I struggle with in the hardware store are the indignities of the job. Most people who shop with us are pleasant and grateful. After all, they usually have an immediate problem and are grateful a solution, usually anyway. But not everyone is pleasant and grateful, after all, this is retail sales.

Some people are condescending, thinking that the hardware guy is just some dead end doofus who can be abused with impunity. Some people are pissed off at the world and bring that anger into the store. We get people who can't fathom why we don't carry every hardware part known to humankind and get miffed about that. But mostly it's a fun job.

I had a couple of little stoners come in today looking for a deadbolt. No doubt to secure their stash.

My introduction was when one of them shouted at me, "Hey, dude, can we get a little help here?" I'm a dude, who knew? Is that a good thing?

After I got them a good lock at a cheap price, their criteria, the same kid looked at me and said, Thanks, dude." Who said stoners are impolite?

I gave him a long, hard stare and he must have reconsidered my dudeship, because he added, "I mean thanks, sir." Little victories.














Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Red Bird of Paradise



Lantana





I have no idea why Ched is promoting orange today, but here's my contribution. Maybe she made a bet with someone that she can get her blog friends to do something odd, through the use of her advanced mind control techniques.














Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Life has a lot of details that we never notice.



This gerbera daisy flower has a lot to see beyond it's striking yellow petals.




This lowly coleus leaf reminds me of an elephant's skin.


Enough about mayhem and guns. On to something even more depressing...politics.

I was pretty sure that I had a post in which I predicted Obama/McCain in the general election. Unfortunately, I can't find it, so I may be misremembering. Although I do recall ducking sniper fire while I typed and that's something you just don't misremember.

I have opened the betting on the fall election. Since I cannot legally accept wagers on the outcome here in Hooterville, I would appreciate it if you keep this under your hat.

The odds for each candidate are as follows.

Obama - 100% likelihood of winning.
John McCain - 0% likelihood of winning.

If Bob Barr makes good on his threat to enter as the Libertarian nominee, McCain's chances drop to less than zero.

One last thing. Maybe you have seen Father Pfleger's rant on Hillary, but in case you haven't, here it is.



Some Catholic Cardinal in Chicago has his panties in a bunch over Pfleger's remarks and has asked him to cool it for a bit. Personally, the most offensive thing I find about Pfleger is his affectation of a black preacher, not his message. Just saying.




Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

The shooter from his MySpace page.


Hindsight is a funny thing. If we had the benefit of hindsight before things happened, a lot of bad stuff would never happen. Of course, sometimes we have the benefit of foresight and still manage to screw things up. Take the case of the guy who went on the shooting spree here in our city.

What is apparent is that the shooter, David Nickolas Delich is a very sick guy. He is profoundly mentally ill and this isn't a recent revelation. He's been this way a long time.

He was mentally ill when he threated friends, neighbors and strangers. He was mentally ill as he assembled his arsenal of weapons. He was mentally ill when he threated to kill a lot of policeman.

Lots of people had reason to believe that Delich was dangerously deranged and capable of violence. Some of the signs were very obvious and some were more subtle, but they were clear enough. In the context of what happened, a bunch of people are kicking themselves in the behind for not stopping this character before he killed Officer Erik Hite. There will be serious fallout over how everyone missed or ignored the signs.

By all accounts, friends and family knew the shooter was getting crazier and crazier. Acquaintances report that he suffered from feeling of persecution, anger and revenge. He reportedly had delusions that he was supernatural in some way, god perhaps. He was angry with the world.

According to the news reports, he posted on his MySpace page that he intended to kill a bunch of cops. On February 22nd he wrote, "Soon, I plan to kill many police officers." I'm pretty sure that a bunch of people saw that. Where's Homeland Security when you need their swell surveillance? Or the FBI or even our own police department?

We now know that he threatened a former girlfriend from high school via email, repeatedly over a long period of time. Her report to the police evidently was not taken seriously. He said in emails that he was going to create a holocaust, that she should paint a target on her head and that he had a surprise for her family that he would deliver in person. He also threatened others that he thought had slighted him from his high school days, in the same way.

The weird part is, that like many of these crazed shooters, he was able to assemble an arsenal. Most of these guys don't get their weapons from master criminals or gun suppliers to the drug cartels, they get them through perfectly legal channels. Only in America can profoundly mentally ill person arm himself to the teeth and no one bothers to intervene.





Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

More Gun News

We had a very tragic event here in our fair city yesterday. One that is tied directly to the ease with which people can obtain firearms. The events began with a man firing indiscriminately at some houses on the northwest side of town. Police spotted the gunman at an intersection, where he shot a Sheriff's deputy in the shoulder and fled the scene. Both City police officers and Sheriff's deputies chased him across town, as he continues to shoot at the pursuing officers. A Tucson policeman was killed and two Pima County Sheriff's deputies were wounded. The gunman was apprehended unhurt and is being held in jail. The gunman didn't have much of a prior criminal record. He was found guilty of criminal trespass and was arrested for drugs violations, but those charges were dismissed. His motives in this shooting spree are unknown. Police found a large cache of guns and ammunition in his car. I'm not sure what drives a person to the point where he begins shooting at people indiscriminately, but I do know that the ability for the average person to arm themselves to the teeth is not constructive for society. The mantra of the Second amendment knuckleheads is that criminals will always have guns, so why disarm the public? That line of reasoning could be extended to lots of things criminals do and have. That doesn't mean we should all have them, does it? Anyway, Officer Erik Hite, age 43, lost his life doing his job. He leaves behind a wife and children, including a son serving in the military. A senseless tragedy. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

MLK Day

Two of our former chief executives.



I would like to clear up a point of confusion about Arizona and the MLK holiday. Arizona does celebrate MLK Day, although we were dragged kicking and screaming to the celebration. It took the threat of losing the Super Bowl and conventions to convince us to see the light. We are now fully on board with the whole idea.

The opposition to MLK Day in Arizona was lead by Evan Mechan, a Mormon car dealer, who was also a proud member of the John Birch Society. Mechan was impeached and removed from office for obstruction of justice and illegally using state money for his personal use.

The next elected governor was Fife Symington, who was also forced out of office because of some shady real estate business. Our current governor, Janet Napolitano remains proudly unindicted.

Arizonans have a limited attention span, which causes problems with so many people to hate. Now that MLK Day is firmly ensconced in our lives, we have moved on to making sure that the Mexicans stay in their place, preferably Mexico. That is unless they are cleaning our houses or yards. We also have the Mormon battalions mobilizing in the east valley suburbs of Phoenix, to insure that the wickedness that is gay marriage, doesn't get a foothold here in our state. With the recent California court decision declaring gay marriage constitutional, they are at Defcon-4.

If the new millennium wants Arizona to join in, it will have to come and get us.







Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky