About Me

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Birmingham, Alabama, United States
43 Years old Born in Wilson, North Carolina. Work in Law Enforcement / Patrol, married I am a Political Conservative without a party to represent my vote. I dislike liars, especially the type who are politicians and preachers. I oppose abortion of any type at any stage. The baby is innocent and deserves life regardless of the mothers circumstances. I also dislike racists. Especially the kind that always scream racism at others when life doesn't go there way! Get a life, it's only skin color and God made idiots in all colors. I also dislike Democrats, they wouldn't know the truth if it bit them on the ass. I dislike Republicans, they are truly the most spineless creatures on God's green earth. I dislike arrogant environmentalist who think we can destroy what God created. If your homosexual, I don't dislike you, but please keep it in your own bedroom behind closed doors for the sake of the untwisted.

Monday, November 07, 2005

Road Rage!

Road Rage

So, your driving down the interstate, no doubt thinking on the events of your day or what you have on the agenda tomorrow. Your minding your own business, traveling between the posted speed limit of 70 mph and 80 mph. Then all the sudden your vehicle interior fills with blinding light. You glance up at the rearview mirror to see an 18 wheeler's radiator grill just off of the bumper of your car. No warning, no idea he snuck up on you so quickly. Before you are even able to change lanes, he is flashing those huge bright lights in your eyes. You want to check over your shoulder to see if the middle lane is clear to merge over into the next lane, but you can't see behind you for the blinding lights.

Suddenly, you are now thinking about the movie Maximum Overdrive, the movie that featured vehicles taking on a life source of their own with a lust for running over anything and everything in their path. But this is not a movie, you have 20 tons of metal bearing down on the trunk of your car traveling at 80 mph.

Road Rage sets in.

This is the unexplainable urge to take the situation personal. We as drivers of our vehicles now become as territorial as lions, tigers and dogs. My lane is my lane by God, and nobody will bully me into giving it up. What gives that trucker the right to rule the road? He is probably from out of state anyway, I live near here. Pride is also an important factor involved with road rage. You rationalize the situation. I was already doing the speed limit, maybe a little bit more, what gives him the right to be driving faster than me? I'll show him. I'm not going to merge over, heck no, I'm going to slow down. This will chap his backside. So you slow down. 80 mph, 75, mph, 70 mph, 65 mph. There, you think to yourself, I bet that got his panties in a wad. Sure enough, the trucker abruptly changes lanes almost kissing the back bumper of your vehicle. Now he is gaining on your right side. Now enters competition, this is the compelling urge to hold your ground, keep in the lead ahead of the truck. As the cab of the truck moves along side where you can see the front of his rig through your passenger side window, you step on the accelerator. Slowly you progress forward, watching with pleasure as the front of the rig falls behind. A giddy feeling of excitement and payback encourages you continue to put distance between you and the truck. Now who is the King of the road? You watch the trucks headlights fade smaller in the rearview mirror. You ease back in your seat with a smug feeling of victory, after all, you showed him who was boss. He needs to go down the interstate a bit further to find a driver who has no backbone. Maybe as far as Mississippi you think to yourself.

Now the traffic picks up a bit more and slows you down. You scan the lanes in front of you in order to choose which lane will give you the best possible strategic advantage over the trucker who has gained momentum. Yes, a slower vehicle just merged into the middle lane, you merge back to the far left lane. The trucker confirms your wise calculations by getting back into the far left passing lane. A smile brightens your face. You know round 2 is about to begin. You judge your speed against the slower middle lane driver, making sure he doesn't spoil your plans by merging in front of you. You accelerate to the point that you are side by side with the middle lane driver. All lanes blocked momentarily. Here he comes. The truck advances on your rear rapidly. You accelerate just enough to appear that you will overtake the middle lane driver and merge over in front of him, allowing the truck to gain the fast lane.

Just as the truck has built up enough speed to gain on you and maneuver around you in front of the middle lane driver, you lift your foot from the accelerator, rapidly losing ground to the middle lane driver. The trucker continues his speed until he is back on your bumper again. Success, you have boxed him in again. There they are, the high-beams flashing inside your vehicle again. You smile, you know the trucker's blood pressure has boiled over. He is at your mercy. You decide it is time to cruise at a leisurely pace for a few miles or 5. The trucker cannot get over due to other traffic that has caught up. You are in the drivers seat.

You have grown accustom to the bright lights and closeness of the 18 wheeler on your behind. It doesn't strike fear in you anymore. He can kiss my 4-wheeling, 4 cylinder butt, you think with pride. Besides, driving a big heavy truck like that is dangerous. He could hurt someone. Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud air-horn and more flashing headlights. Well, what do you know, your exit is coming up, and now you must gain enough speed to overtake both lanes of traffic to the right of you. You accelerate full speed ahead, leaving the group of travelers behind. now you take the exit lane and slow down enough making sure the trucker can catch up to you. As he pulls along side, you lift your hand to give him a 1 fingered salute. You see his brake lights flash on as you laugh knowing that he has no chance of making the exit lane. He gives up and continues on with his travels. You sit back and marvel at the nerve he had to challenge your right to drive however you see fit.

Now the excitement ebbs. You replay the whole experience from start to finish. After the joy of irritating this trucker goes away, you start to wonder why you even bothered with it in the first place. After all, that isn't how you normally react in your everyday life. You question yourself, why did I not just get over and let him go about his business? It wouldn't have hurt anything, I was in no hurry. Why did I let it get to me that way? You think to yourself, maybe he had a family emergency and was just trying to get home in a hurry and dint realize he was driving rude. You also realize that chances are that if you had met that same truck driver during the course of your day, you may have liked him enough to buy his lunch.

Now guilt sets in. The truth of the matter is that you as a responsible and courteous driver should have just merged over and given him the fast lane. Wow, you think to yourself. IM the inconsiderate driver. How did that happen? Is it the fact that when your in a car, your really anonymous to all others? Do you really feel safe in the surroundings of your vehicle to the point that you will act in a manor that is normally not your personality? This is something to think about the next time you are driving. You never know who is in the next car, and what they are capable of doing.

The useless philosophy of:


Tuesday, November 01, 2005

What's Wrong With Wal-Mart?

What's wrong with Wal-mart?

I happened to read an AOL news story featuring Wal-mart and their quest to improve their self image. Hey, I can help here! I can tell you everything you want to know and more about what's wrong with Wal-mart.

First, out of kindness I'll say this, Wal-mart provides a place you can go to shop and get anything you need in one trip, from groceries, underwear, and Rolaids, to getting an oil-change for your vehicle. Okay, now that I said that, I'll tell you what I really think about Wal-mart.

The commercials on Wal-mart show the hard working women who juggle being a mother and a career woman. They express their glee of being able to go to Wal-mart, get everything they need in one place, while saving big money hand over fist for their effort. Well, that's the idea and genius of Wal-mart. Now, let me tell you what happens when you enter the doors of your local Wal-mart for this one stop shop experience.

After choking out the second hand cigarette smoke from all the Wal-mart employees gathered around the entrance, smoking like a tar pit, usually you are greeted by an older employee wearing a blue vest and a smile. (the first and last smile you will see from a Wal-martster) you choose a shopping cart that least resembles a dumpster. At this point, most families split up and go different ways in search of their priority products. The lone shopper decides which way to navigate first.

You then begin browsing a particular section in search of that must have item. Well, darn, there it is, but the only package left has been torn open. It's still there, but even if it is something you wont be eating you don't dare buy it because it has been opened already. After all, we all remember the Tylenol tampering. So off to find that Walmartster you saw wearing a blue vest with "How can I help You? " written on the back. There she is putting something back in place on a shelf. You ask her if she knows if there is any more of what you can't find somewhere else in the store. She stares, blinks. And then lets you know with pride that she does not work in that section. Now you stare, Blink. After a moment of déjà vu (surely ive been here before, in this same situation) you watch the blue vest with (How can I help You?) disappear to the next isle. Great! after a moment of suppressing your skyrocketing blood pressure, you say the heck with it and move on to continue your one stop shop experience.

As you navigate past a small group of bluevester's arguing about when their next break is, and guide through a pickup game of Nerf football on isle 5, you find your next destination. You are browsing at some ties or bra's, whichever you wear, and suddenly you hear a loud voice over the intercom screaming code 7 in zone 4, code 7 in zone 4. You think to yourself, their looking for shoplifters, everybody knows that! You look around forgetting about the tie (or bra) to see if your being followed by secret service bluevester's (undercover of course). You fantasize about being tackled by Secret Agent Bluevester so you can sue the great Wal-mart Machine for false arrest. You grow bored with this thought, and this one stop shop experience and head towards the check-out counters with your buggy load of impulse buying you managed to collect while looking for what you needed.

Then you find yourself searching for a cashier that has less than a dozen customers. You notice that they have at least 40 cash registers, but only 5 of them with a cashier. Then you remember you needed a tobacco product. So you go to the one and only line that will provide you with this commodity only to find fifteen angry buggy pushers waiting for the one and only cashier allowed to provide you with this commodity to return from behind the Great Wall of Tobacco with a pack of Lucky Strikes. Now the bluevester cashier rings up the other 60 products the man had to go with the Lucky Strikes. 1 down and 14 to go. You thumb through a few gossip rags featuring the Freak Hollywood Star of the month to fill the precious time Wal-mart loves to detain you with in the store. (Best chance for that last minute impulse buy). 8 down and 7 to go. Oh no, the register light on the pole turns on as the cashier stops checking items and begins picking the nail polish from her register worn fingernails. After a few minutes you see Sergeant redvester stroll up to the register to insert her key card in and like magic the bluevester is checking items again. Finally only 2 to go. "This cannot be happening!" you hear yourself scream inside your head. A fresh bluevester walks up with an empty register tray in hand.

The nightmare continues. The bluevester's tally up the take for the Walton family in ever so slow fashion, after all, they are paid by the hour. finally it's your turn to experience the charm of a bluevester cashier. In your attempt to speed up this one stop shop experience, you place the big bag of dog food on the conveyor belt table top. Forbid waiting on her to do it, after all your just another paying customer. Now you use your debit card to make the purchase (another attempt at saving time) praying there is no malfunction while you remember shopper number 8's child pushing all of the buttons on it. Now, at last you get your receipt. At this point you clutch it as if it's a winning lottery ticket. You quickly head to the door, you cringe. You guessed it! the friendly bluevester greeter has been replaced by the receipt-Nazi. Yes, you must prove your an honest shopper by showing your proof of purchase. You smile because all she has left to do is place that silly orange smiley face sticker on your bag of dog food. As you leave the bluevester thanks you for your prolonged visit, and once again you are a free citizen with all your rights restored.

If Wal-mart can correct these problems with their earned self image that surely all shoppers experience, they will no doubt continue to dominate the retail world.

The Useless Philosophy of:


Sunday, October 30, 2005

Always Opinionated! Posted by Picasa

Saturday, October 29, 2005

Defending Condoleezza Rice!

Eugene Robinson is a columnist for the Washington Post.

Mr. Robinson, in your Thursday, October 27th, 2005 column you wrote of how you have long wondered what the deal was with Condoleezza Rice and the issue of race. You pose the questions, "How does she work so loyally for President George W. Bush, whose approval rating among blacks was measured in a recent poll at a negligent 2 percent? How did she come to a world view so radically different from that of most black Americans? You then question Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice mental state of mind and intelligence by asking "is she blind'? "Is she in denial"? "Is she confused or what"?

Eugene Robinson, are you suggesting that black Americans are unable or not allowed to think and choose for themselves? Are you suggesting that black Americans are unable to develop their own point of views on the issue of race due to the color of their skin? Are you suggesting that the 2 percent of black Americans must be blind, in denial or confused if they do not agree with you and the rest of black America?

I also have to ask if you expect Condoleezza Rice to be unloyal in her work as Secretary of State just because she is an African American appointed by President George W. Bush? How ridiculous and unprofitable would that be to the American people and their nation, to have the Secretary of State to be disloyal in her work under the President?

You then suggest that during your whole three day tour of duty following Condoleezza Rice and her entourage as she toured her hometown of Birmingham, Alabama that you have discovered a partial answer to why she thinks and believes the way she does. This is no doubt an amazing skill you possess. You first determined that she grew up in a protective bubble as the tumult of the civil rights movement swirled around her. Your asinine partial answer is that Condoleezza Rice is still closeted in her beloved Titusville, the neighborhood of black strivers where she was raised in Birmingham, able to see the very different reality that all (except Condoleezza, mind you) other African Americans experienced, but she herself was unable to reach outside of her protective bubble, not able to touch that other reality (racism), and thus not understand it. Incredible, you were able to come up with a theory of how it must have been for a young black girl to be raised in Birmingham during the civil rights era and develop a mindset and belief system different from your own! How arrogant. Maybe it is the reality of the fact that an African American woman could be raised by decent, loving, and dedicated parents that you refer to as a Protective Bubble, during that most challenging era and still achieve the third highest position in American government without using the race issue as a platform to her success. I bet that upsets you most of all.

You accuse the parents of Condoleezza Rice for sheltering her against Jim Crow racism, and thus allowing their daughter to show no bitterness (Hate) when she recalls the warm memories of her childhood in a town whose streets were ruled by the white segregationist public safety commissioner Bull Conner. I noticed there was no praise in your column for the Rice parents for raising their daughter to love and not hate a person due to the color of their skin, but to judge someone by their character. There is also no mention of the fact that her parents taught her the value and importance of a good education. They were also most successful in this area of child development.

Condoleezza Rice was quoted of saying, " Ive always said about Birmingham that because race was everything, race was nothing." In other words she saw that racism could hold no power over her and keep her from achieving success, only she could do that. She chose to consider the race issue a non-issue for her life. Maybe Condoleezza Rice could teach all the rest of America, black and white her understanding. Maybe then racism and bigotry would end if we appreciate each other for who they are, not by what they look like.

You stated that when Condoleezza Rice reminisces, she talks of piano lessons and her brief attempt at ballet, not of Bull Conner setting his dogs loose on brave men, women and children marching for freedom, which is the Birmingham that other citizen's you met still remember. Is this what you ponder on when you reminisce of your childhood? Maybe Condoleezza had stronger memories of love, family, and personal interests that burned more deeply into her mind. You are suggesting that Condoleezza shares no part in the African American's Struggle for equal rights. This is an absurd assumption, an unfair at best.

You do grudgingly admit that that Condoleezza Rice lost her childhood friend to a white racist who planted a bomb in the little girls church, yet because she can speak of her loss without visible emotion to your approval, you doubt she suffers true emotional scars. You are quite a judge of other's personal grief and emotions.

You write that Condoleezza doesn't deny that race makes a difference. She stated, "We all look forward to the day when this Country is race blind, but it isn't yet!" I believe this statement is half wrong and half right. You do not wish this Country to be raceblind, you wouldn't have anything to write about in the press to keep hate and strife alive and well between the blacks and whites. The half right part of the statement is true, " It isn't yet!" (raceblind) because their are too many people with your world view who refuse to see anything but race in every issue. Condoleezza added, " The fact that our society is not colorblind is a statement of fact!" I agree, except that it must be mentioned that white and blacks are not colorblind in our society.

You wrote "but then why are the top echelons of her state department almost entirely white?" Only a question someone who is not colorblind could ask. Her answer, " That's an artifact of foreign policy, it's not been a very diverse profession. You translated that into, " in other words, there are aren't enough qualified minority candidates, you then added, " I wonder how many times those words have been used as a lame excuse"? Counting yours Mr. Robinson? It seems to me that if you believed that yourself you would encourage the type of raising you described earlier as a protective bubble. Maybe each parent in America should adopt this protective bubble theory for raising their children, then there would be more Condoleezza Rice's in the upper echelon positions. Great idea!

Again you knock Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice for not reaching back to her home neighborhood to bring others to the same status. Just how many people from your hometown neighborhood did you reach back for that currently work with you at the Washington Post? I bet I could answer that for you!

You also mocked Condoleezza's interpretation of the history of civil rights being fought from inside the institutions, such as Martin Luther King demanding that institutions live up to what they said they were, challenging America to be what it said it was, the land of the free. You wrote, " I know very few black Americans who think of themselves fully as insiders in this society, no matter how high we may rise, [How inspiring!) there is always that reality that rice acknowledges: The society isn't colorblind, not yet its not always in the front of your mind, but its there. Well, no wonder when there are African Americans as yourself on the inside of American institutions such as the free press who constantly remind all Americans the color of their skin and offer an excuse for their failures in life.

Your last assault on Condoleezza Rice and her upbringing was, " When Rice was growing up, her father stood guard at the entrance of her neighborhood with a rifle to keep the Klan's night riders away. But that was outside the bubble, inside the bubble, Rice was sitting at the piano in pretty dresses to play Bauch Fugues. It sounds like a wonderful childhood, but one that left her able to see the impact that race has in America-able to examine it and analyze it-but not able to feel it. If there is a "rosebud" to decode the enigma that is Condoleezza Rice, It's Titusville." I believe I know Condoleezza rice better than you do Mr. Robinson.

It seems to me that you are green with envy that you were not raised in this same "rosebud" of a protective bubble. After all, Condoleezza Rice overcame, your still struggling obviously with the fact that a black woman on her own merit rose to the top, and has placed herself in position to realistically being elected the first black and the first woman ever to occupy the oval office as President of the United States of America. She will have my vote when the time comes! What an inspiration to all races and genders. May God Bless You Mr. Robinson and open your blind eyes to the fact that we are all Americans.


Insults from Bama Bubba's & Homers!

IM sorry, I was reading the posts and wouldn't you know an Alabama fan would be calling an Auburn tigress White Trash!

People, if you have ever visited the great state of Alabama, you have been exposed to what the Darwin Theory believers call the Missing Link. This is the type of human being that appears to be stepping out of the crouch from Ape to man in your 5th grade science book explaining evolution. If you do not understand what I am trying to explain, pay close attention to the next "person" you see wearing an Alabama T-shirt, Cap, or Jersey. Notice the extended forehead and deep set eyes that are almost always set too close to each other. Listen to this "person's" Speech, notice not only the slurred and simple words spoken, but also the structure or lack thereof of the speech pattern. Also notice the element of fantasy mixed in with facts. Please try not to focus on obvious distractions such as "Tide" Washing Detergent boxes or Rolls of toilet tissue worn as a cultural Headdress. If the offensive odor emanating from these "person's" does not prevent a closer look you will no doubt see a Dale Jr. #8 or a Houndstooth hat tattoo somewhere on this "person's" body. Right now is a great time to find one of these "person's" strolling through Wal-Mart or K-Mart stores, Since the Alabama football team has actually won Seven games in a row. In the past few years you had to spot one of these "Person's" by their similar facial features as noted above, mostly wearing overall's, Greasy Jeans and Dale Jr. Ball caps due to their embarrassment in associating with the Crimson Tide when they have losing seasons. Just in case the Tide drifts out to sea again you can always find any local trailer park, flea market, state fair or even a quick trip out to the Talladega speedway to find this common breed of "person's".

A word to the wise, please do not provoke these "persons" by shouting a War Eagle! Or Go Vols! Within earshot of them, they have not advanced enough to overcome the animalistic urge to throw Jack Daniels bottles while cursing wildly, slash tires, and using obscene body language in their frustration to communicate as we do. Being called White Trash or any other insult from a Tide fan can only be a compliment.

Weight Loss Infomercials

Lets be honest, we all have been fooled at least once by these weight loss commercials, ads and infomercials that promise extreme weight loss in 30 days, 60 days or even in just two weeks. All you have to do is pick up the phone, or log onto the net and by next month you will look like you did your junior year in high school. whether it be a pill, a cookie, an exercise contraption that looks like a Nazi torture device, or a jogging suit guaranteed to destroy your self esteem when your neighbors see you jog around the block in what they think is a rescue worker in a Hazmat space suit. Really, take a look at one of the commercials (every fourth commercial, any channel) and see what they are promising. Don't you just love the actual before and after (use of their product) photo's? Like the ever present fat man in a Hawaiian shirt with the sun glasses on? and the picture next to him that looks like Sylvester Stallone. I have always been particularly fond of the gorgeous women who are exercising on the machines in perfect stride and harmony, and yet they maintain a smile that stretches from ear to ear the whole time they are working out. This is supposed to mean, Hey, this is fun! maybe, just maybe if I get one of those machines for only four easy installments of $49.95 I too can have fun and achieve a super model body in only twenty minutes a day, three days a week, in two months. But really the reason they are smiling so brightly is because they are being paid to pose on this machine for just a few camera shot minutes while a group of overweight people admire their body. I mean come on, have you ever seen one drop of sweat on their pretty little faces during these commercials? Why don't they have honest commercials, say like an overweight guy like me with his shirt off, pouring sweat onto his gym shorts and grimacing with agony? I mean really, that's what I do when I ride my exercise bicycle! And the pills, my favorite is this one, "when is a diet pill worth paying over a hundred dollars for, when it works! really works!". Plus it is guaranteed or a full refund less shipping and handling. OK, lets figure this up. I pay $125 bucks for the bottle of pills, plus $12 dollars for shipping and handling. That's $137dollars. OK, I take the pills, lose the weight, everyone is so happy. Or I take the pills and remain the slob that I am. No problem! I mail the empty pill bottle back, if I can find the address. I wait several months and receive a check for $125 bucks. OK, I still lost $12 bucks shipping and handling, they gained at the least $10 off of me. That's if I bother with the refund. And have you seen the one with the Ski type motion? you know the one. You can use this machine and make believe your in Colorado skiing the slopes, and lose weight doing it. I have to admit, I tried one of these at my neighbors house. I know fat people are not known to have great balance anyway, but when I got on this machine, I almost lost a leg to its scissors like motion. I mean it is made of wood and metal after all. I guarantee you Mary Lou Redding would have had trouble staying on that wild ride for more than two minutes in her prime Olympic days. One more thing should throw up a red flag if your bright. Ever noticed the quick little warning on the commercials for diet pills that say, " use of this product alone or in conjunction with any prescribed medication may cause minimum to severe side effects or reaction, including runny nose, heart palpitations, headaches, rash, temporary blindness, hair loss, vomiting, liver failure, or dizziness?" OK guys, this is a red flag! I mean what good is being slender if your walking around holding on to a rolling IV stand?

The useless philosophy of: