Foster Child

This is "pretty girl." She's been roaming our neighborhood this whole week with no collar, and Bookie and I have stopped to say hello every morning as we passed on the morning walk. No one I've talked to has seen her around before. Well today, she came home with me. I gave her a bath and fed her and let her lie down in the air conditioning all evening. Gonna do everything I can to find her family. I've put messages up on all the local websites, and I'm printing signs tomorrow, but I got a bad feeling she was dropped off, abandoned, at the Mount Holly Cemetery last weekend, where she's been hanging out for the most part. I think she's uh-oh-prego...

I promised her when I took her in that if her family is up tonight crying and missing her, we're gonna find them and get them back together. But if some sorry joker dumped this sweet, beautiful, smart, pregnant dog at the cemetery, we're gonna take real good care of her.

Moderate Gains & Losses

The summer has been good to me here at Dirt Bombs. I've managed to turn some things around that needed some turning around. I've dropped some things that needed to be dropped. I've picked up some stuff that have added joy to my life. Here's a little "wellness fiscal report."

Summer losses:

• 24 lbs. and counting
• attachment to a couple of bad habits
• the dark cloud, doubt
• bitterness toward some of my life history

Summer gains:

• a brilliant nephew, Matthew
• Chipper "Bookie" Jones as gun dog, loyal companion
• doable and healthy lifestyle routine
• Mama and wife back home for good (no travel for work)
• hope
• a banjo and a smile
• the desire to write

It's been a good one. Let's keep it rolling, folks. When you're doubting it, remember two things:

1) You're capable of more than you think you are.

B) It all starts with a brisk walk and some good tunes.

Love you guys.

Here's the Letter I Would Write

August 19, 2011

To Whom It May Concern:

I am a dependable, conscientious, spirited teacher. There is plenty of data to back it up. Any given year, my students’ standardized test scores over my thirteen-year tenure with the school district have been comparable with or better than any other teachers in the state of Arkansas in my disciplines and subject areas. During that tenure, I have taught eighth grade, ninth grade, and twelfth grade Regular English. I have taught Pre-AP Physics to ninth graders and Pre-AP Biology to tenth graders. Now, I teach Creative Writing, a twelfth grade elective course, and I teach AP English Literature and Composition—the two highest-level English courses that our school district offers. Former students, many of which I wrote, and continue to write letters of recommendation for, are currently attending or have graduated from the finest universities in the nation. They have travelled the world on prestigious fellowships to study and to explore. They are graduate students, teachers, lawyers, popular culture celebrities, scientists, artists, and military officers. They are my tennis teammates, adopted family to my wife and three year old son, fellow band members, hiking partners, and confidantes. They have been featured in news publications for scholarships that they have received as a result of hard work, determination, and the stellar guidance and interdisciplinary instruction that they received at a fine high school with the finest administration.

This year, at the pre-school in-service sessions I was unimpressed by the organization, preparedness, and relevance of the professional growth seminars that were offered to the English teachers in the district. At the high school English meetings this year, my experience was a living nightmare—set in a circus. Day one was almost intolerable. But the most specific and apt proof I can give was the day two presentation for AP English teachers in the district. We were told in advance that we would receive training on the new textbooks we had adopted for the coming school year. I was eager to see the new materials and to learn how they could be utilized in my classroom. And this was important. Adopting a new textbook means extra preparation: new syllabi to prepare; new works of literature to annotate; page numbers to log; units of study to create; lectures to write; activities and assessments to design. In short, I needed this P.D. It was supposed to be valuable.

When I arrived at 8:15 for my 8:30 a.m. meeting, I was met at the door by a supervisor who informed me that I needed to behave in a more professional manner today than I had the previous one. I was cordially warned that I was being watched. (I must say here that day one, I listened to every piece of information that was presented, and I completed every task that was asked of me with due diligence, if not enthusiasm.) That was how my day started. When I reported to the classroom where AP teachers were to meet, I immediately learned that the presenter was there to provide a full, six-hour workshop on the textbook that the AP English Language and Composition teachers adopted this year. The presenter was disoriented, rattled even. She didn’t have the materials that she had been promised. There were NONE of the new English Language books or the new English Literature books to be found anywhere in the building! We searched; trust me. She had prepared for and was expecting a room full of AP Language teachers. In that room were ten AP English Literature teachers and two AP Language teachers. We were furious, disheartened, and deflated. The morning session was a two-hour, slow motion train wreck while we sorted out the confusion. The AP Language textbook expert apologized profusely and assured us that she had been told she was there to present to AP Language teachers. I felt horrible for her. What’s more, she was one of the authors of the textbook!!! There she stood, the supreme authority on the subject matter, and the district could not get its act together enough, pay her the professional courtesy to have the materials that she needed to present an effective, informative workshop?! I think I speak for everyone in that room, and I think it is an understatement, when I say that we, the teachers, were embarrassed and exasperated.

The books were delivered around 10:30. We all agreed to take a short break, gather ourselves, and to come back and make the best of the situation. We did that, and no thanks to the planning and foresight and intentions of the powers that be, we had a reasonably good and productive afternoon. The author/presenter, bless her sweet, brilliant heart, gracefully answered questions we had about the AP Language curriculum. We learned some differences between what she teaches (Language and Comp) and what the vast majority of the people in the room teach (Literature and Comp). We discussed the differences and similarities between her experiences in private education and ours in public education and the commonalities and individuation between Arkansas teachers and New York teachers. (She had not experienced the same level of frustration and contention that we had with her school’s P.D. opportunities, by the way. She is given enormous freedom to fulfill her continuing education requirements as sees fit.) So the day wasn’t a complete waste. Mind you, that’s not what she had been hired and paid good money to do.

In my thirteen years with the district, there have been a dozen in-service, professional development training workshops like the one I have just described for every organized, appropriate, or illuminating district workshop in which I have participated. And the problem has only gotten worse. Ask. Any. Teacher. They will echo that sentiment. Simply put, this is unacceptable.

I am in a certification year. My licensure expires December 31^st. Because of the school district’s P.D. policies, I am being forced to prove to the ADE that I served as an AP Reader in 2007 and 2008. (I received credit with the the district for participating in 2006, before you changed your rules—therefore the ADE has a record of those hours.) The ADE and College Board and AP Central certify and endorse 42 hours of professional development for high school teachers and college professors who attend these ten-day, summer training and exam grading sessions. EVERYONE who participates agrees that it is the single most valuable professional growth opportunity that they have the honor and privilege to be a part of every year. But you, school district, don’t acknowledge this training as worthy and valuable, and as a result, I will have to go to great lengths to insure the security of my livelihood this fall. I have all of the documentation on file, and I should be recertified with little formal hassle from the ADE. But it should not have come to this. As a result of your P.D. policies, I will have to make appointments with state education officials, deliver documents to the capital, and hope that the powers that be there follow through and issue me the recertification that I have earned and that I deserve. I should have received an automatic renewal, but that is not what has happened.

It is my hope, my dream, that one day you will finally listen to the classroom teacher—the true expert—and allow her the professional courtesy and respect that she has given you for years. There has to be a change. We are dying out here. You are sucking out our souls every year, slowly, a little more and more and more. The highest ranking officials in the P.D. division, quite frankly, have been inaccessible and condescending. I do not charge any one individual with guilt or responsibility or ineptitude in these matters. The entire professional development system is fundamentally flawed—from the top, down.

I do appreciate your time and attention. I would never intentionally disrespect my authorities unless their behaviors and policies disrespected and threatened my professional abilities, my family’s financial security, my livelihood. This means too much to me to float idly in the eddy of organizational mediocrity any longer while a broken, archaic system ruins it for everyone involved. I am paddling.

There are new leaders in place this year. There is a new organizational structure in our administration. Now is the time to do something new and something better. It is never too late to acknowledge and identify our problems, make new priorities, find common ground, and chop away at our weaknesses—together. That is the essence and beauty of education. Do not let ignorance or blindness define you.

Sincerely,

Dirt Bombs

Obama or Bust

It appears to me as if President Obama's just waiting, like a tiger in the high grass. He can't start too early. And he's got a job to do; he's a little busy. He's waiting patiently and the dude's gonna pounce. And when he does, his people are going to be ready to go with him.

Reagan/Mondale-esque landslide in 2012? An Independent, conservative friend of mine said that to me yesterday. As crazy as that sounds at this point in time-------------just remember where you heard it first. I will, C.D. I don't think it will be a landslide of that magnitude, but I am starting to think the American people are just voicing their valid frustrations with politicians, and he is their whipping boy right now--as he should be as the leader of American politicians. As it gets closer, and Americans begin to face up to the real facts and the real-life choices they are going to have, sensibility and pragmatism are going to prevail. To some, he may be the most accurate incarnation of the "better of two evils" line that we hear so often. To others, he may be the most qualified and noble President they've ever had the opportunity to vote for in an election. I'm with the latter. Regardless, I'm growing more and more optimistic with each passing day.

The more I've thought about this, and the more I'm reading people I have a great deal of respect for, the better I'm starting to feel about everything. At this point. But I never underestimate the power of the Karl Rove-dark side. That's why I'm getting prepared now.

Sing a Song of Sixpence

Rome, Mama, and I have been reading nursery rhymes these last two days. We found a damaged (illustrated) book that's just FULL of great ones at the bookstore last weekend, and they sold it to us for three dollars. A poet-friend of mine had said recently that they are ominous and even frightening sometimes--especially when you're an adult and you understand the imputations. I had no idea what she was talking about until last night when the three of us sat down and started reading them together. Mama and I were shooting wide-eyed looks at each other over the cover of the book.

Like Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater, who had a wife but couldn't keep her. So he put her in a pumpkin shell and there he kept her very well. What the heck's going on here? Seriously. Did he, like, dice her up and stuff her in there or something? (My first thought.) I read that she was unfaithful so he improvised a chastity belt out of a pumpkin. Makes perfect sense. No, Mommy, that's siiiiiiilly.

Look at the old man that went to bed and snored through some rainy weather. He bumped his head and couldn't get up in the morning. He's dead right? (I didn't find any analysis or history of this one. Tell me, please.)

I guess I haven't thought about these stories since I was Rome's age. Do they teach us the tough lessons that no one else really wants to talk about? They're just another form of myth or something like that--cautionary tales--morality plays? I mean, what were Jack and Jill doin' on a hilltop looking for water? Shouldn't they have been in a low spot somewhere? And why did they fall? It's just a hill. They weren't climbing a cliff. Are Jack and Jill Adam and Eve? Or maybe they were gettin' it on and got caught. So if you're somewhere you shouldn't be, doin' something you shouldn't be doin', you're gonna fall too? Supposedly the earliest, Scandinavian versions were about Jack and his buddy Gill--both boys. That really throws me for a loop.

I just don't know. This is probably old news to most of you. Please, tell me what these stories are about. Anyone?

I'll sign off tonight with my favorite one in the book. I don't think I read or heard this one more than a couple of times when I was a kid. I just LOVE it.

Sing a song of sixpence,

A pocket full of rye;

Four and twenty blackbirds,

Baked in a pie.

When the pie was opened,

The birds began to sing;

Now wasn't that a dainty dish,

to set before the king.

The king was in the counting house,

Counting out his money;

The queen was in the parlour,

Eating bread and honey.

The maid was in the garden,

Hanging out the clothes;

When down came a blackbird,

And pecked off her nose.

They send for the king's doctor,

Who sewed it on again;

He sewed it on so neatly,

The seem was never seen.

Analyze that.

I'm gonna have to include a few of these nursery rhymes in one of my first lessons this year on literary analysis. I need to hear what my brilliant, new seniors can do with some of this stuff. I can't wait.

Oh the lessons of parenthood. They keep coming and coming and coming.

Ernie Johnson, Sr.

Ernie Johnson passed away Friday night. I grew up listening to Skip and him on the radio and on TBS. If a game was televised nationally, we'd often turn down the volume on the television and listen to the radio. Dad and I would get so tickled at 'dem boys sometimes.

After serving 3 years in the U.S. Marine Corps, Ernie pitched, primarily as a reliever, for the Boston Braves, the Milwaukee Braves, and then with the Baltimore Orioles during the 50's. He went 7-3 and had 4 saves for the World Series Champion Braves in 1957. Ernie went on to become a legendary play-by-play announcer and color commentator for the Atlanta Braves from 1962-1999.

I'd like to think that he and Skip are hanging out and catching up at this very moment--in the big broadcast booth in the sky. Maybe they'll get to call the World Series this year for God and all His angels.

If I were to draw up a list of the most influential men in my life, he'd be on it.

Big John and Matthew

Uncle Matt

I'd like to take this opportunity to welcome my nephew, Matthew, into this wonderful world. My li'l sis had a precious baby boy on August first. All of us who love her and her fantastic husband are bustin' buttons with pride. Especially me. I'm gonna be the best uncle--since ever (to use a line from my favorite new music group). I know I have some tough competition out there.

Take a minute to send some love out to your family today.

I'm a Teacher, man?!

McCourt's memoir Teacher Man is a great read. I blew through it in about 3 sittings. Anyone who wants an unblushingly frank, funny, and heartwarming look at the teaching life should check it out.

For the last two weeks, I've been attending professional development classes, working in my classroom, reading, organizing, despairing and praying in preparation for the school year. It's one of the strangest times every year. I'm well-rested, relaxed. I feel optimistic and hopeful and inspired, determined to attack some weak spots, holes in my repertoire. Then we go to these meetings--these meetings that I describe as soul-sucking meetings--and in about 12, maybe 15 hours, it's as if they try to kill any ingenuity, passion, or motivation that we might have cached away over the summer. I'm positive that this is not any one person's intention or motivation. But these meetings rarely fail and just to be frank, they are excruciating more often than not. Some years, I've had a horrible attitude. I've sat through these things grumbling expletives, fidgeting hot-faced and teetering on the cusp of mental breakdown, cardiac arrest. I tried calling-in well, saying, "I feel entirely too good to come to work today! Doh!" Other years, I've tried getting involved in order to control some of my own destiny--presenting little workshops for my colleagues. I've usurped other workshops, standing to proclaim in front of anyone who would listen that what we were doing was not a valuable use of our time--and that I intended to use my valuable time in a way that was productive. It only took once or twice to learn that these were both bad ideas.

I'm not here this morning to write an expose on professional development in public education. Maybe later. Probably never.

I'm just saying that this year I'm trying yet another mindset: it is what it is. And to use one of my colleague's lines, this is what we do. And so far, it's gotten me through cleaner than any other methodology to date. As a result, it seems as if all I have to do now is make it through 3 hours of "Nuts and Bolts" this morning and I'll be home free. I got this afternoon after lunch and tomorrow in my classroom to do everything I really need to do, and then the kids arrive Monday. I'll close my door and teach and everything will be fine.

Hey, I'm a teacher, man! It's what I do.

The Iron Horse: Lou Gehrig's Farewell Speech

For the last two weeks you have been reading about the bad break I got. Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of this earth. I have been in ballparks for seventeen years and have never received anything but kindness and encouragement from you fans.

Look at these grand men. Which of you wouldn't consider it a highlight of his career just to associate with them for even one day? Sure, I'm lucky. Who wouldn't have considered it an honor to have known Jacob Ruppert? Also, the builder of baseball's greatest empire, Ed Barrow? To have spent six years with that wonderful little fellow, Miller Huggins? Then to have spent the next nine years with that outstanding leader, that smart student of psychology, the best manager in baseball today, Joe McCarthy? Sure, I'm lucky.

When the New York Giants, a team you would give your right arm to beat, and vice-versa, sends you a gift--that's something! When everybody down to the groundskeepers and those boys in white coats remember you with trophies--that's something! When you have a wonderful mother-in-law who takes sides with you in squabbles with her own daughter--that's something! When you have a father and mother who work all their lives so you can have an education and build your body--it's a blessing! When you have a wife who has been a tower of strength and shown more courage than you knew existed--that's the finest I know!

Gehrig died within a year of his retirement from baseball. His speech, one of the finest I know, was pieced together using first hand accounts, brief audio clips and video footage, notes that people scribbled down on the spot. The fans and writers who were sitting in the stands, in attendance on that glorious day, heard what Gehrig said and passed it along.

This is the stuff myths are made of.

Bookie Jones

We have a new member in our family since I last wrote. His name is Chipper Jones, or "Bookie Dawg" if R.L.'s being silly. He's an 8 month old Flat-Coated Retriever from Cahaba Flat-Coated Retrievers in Birmingham.

Last year, I read the novel The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski. The story is a retelling of Hamlet set in rural Wisconsin and revolves around a family of 2nd generation dog breeders and their mythic, "homemade" breed of dogs. Their son, Edgar, is a mute boy, especially gifted in "dog whispering," who runs away after his father dies, escorted by a litter of loyal puppies that he has raised and trained all by himself. Edgar, like Hamlet, suspects that his Uncle Claude has murdered his father, Gar, to be with his mother, Trudy, and to take over the family business. (Personally, I love the character names.) If you've read Hamlet, it's not a big secret what happens, but it's still riveting and even surprising how it all unfolds. I highly recommend it. The book is FILLED with beautiful and insightful characterizations of dogs--their movement , their motivation, even their thoughts and intuitions.

I loved the novel, and the more I read it, the more I missed having a dog in the family. I'm talking about a strange sort of deep, inner tug-toy desire for a new dog. H and I have had a dog or dogs for the vast majority of our nineteen years together, and after a year and a half of dog free living--a nice break by the way--that void was starting to howl. So by the end of the novel, I had researched every breed known to God and man, from the Nova Scotia Duck-Tolling Retriever to the weenie dog, and settled on FCR's. All the info out there sounded too good to be true. I read How to Raise the Perfect Dog by Cesar the Great cover to cover, twice. I got all the props ready--crate, bully sticks (one of Cesar's favorite tricks), Kongs. I started saving tennis balls left over from matches and tournaments. I bought squeeky toys. H and I brainstormed the "name list" for a couple of months. (Chipper wasn't even on it.) I interviewed veterinarians. I mapped out and practiced walking routes in the neighborhood, and I designed my own, original training and thinking exercises. I left no water dish unturned.

We've had Chipper Jones for over six months now, and he's been a dandy addition to our home and family. I don't think I've invested this much of myself into any family pet ever--and that's probably saying something. And after several rough patches through puppyhood and puberty (like the time I ran over him on the four-wheeler at the cabin--he wasn't hurt...), the hard work is starting to pay off. Chipper is turning into the mature, responsive dog that I had envisioned. He's R.L.'s best friend and companion, sparring partner and mischief accomplice. And H has only just begun to work her special brand of magic with him. (She has a way with dogs that I can only attribute to her Cherokee side. It's a marvel to witness her when she gets down on the floor to caress and whisper in a dog's ear.) He's even helped me lose twenty pounds.

So, Chipper and I have started preparing for dove season. I've been shooting .22 blanks off at every meal before he eats and taking him out on the boat a lot to make sure he's cool on Labor Day weekend. My buddy even stuck a dove in the freezer for me for live retrieving and "lost bird" exercises. He's coming along nicely and should be ready to go Saturday, September 3rd. It's gonna be a big day for us. Hopefully one where we begin to establish a bond only understood by very few, lucky hunters and their good ole dogs. I've observed it between my Dad and his Yellow Lab, Wheat, and between Dad's friend Nathan and Jack the pointing English Setter, but I've never had it myself.

Last week, on Lake Maumelle during an early morning fishing trip/dog training session, I let him jump out of the boat for a refreshing dip, and he swam all the way UNDER the boat--went down on the starboard side and came up on the port side. I kid you not. Damnedest thing I've ever seen a dog do in my life.

I've thought for a while that when he gets a little more distinguished and mature that I'm gonna start calling him Mr. Jones. You're well on your way Bookie Buke.

We're Talkin' 'Bout Taxes?! Taxes?! (Insert Allen Iverson's voice here.)

• • My old friend Ron and I reconnected a couple of years ago on Facebook. We were inseparable, best buds in middle school before he moved away to another town. It's been neat getting to know him as an adult. He's got a beautiful family and a great life.
    
    
    It didn't take long, however, for us to learn that we come from opposite sides of the political spectrum. Neither of us have much of a filter when it comes to telling people what we really think about things. We've had a couple of spirited exchanges over the span of our Facebook friendship. I've developed an admiration and respect for the way he handles himself in debates and discussions. He listens and he is courteous. It made me realize how rare these qualities are these days--in the current national political environment.
    
    
    The other day, Ron saw an article that I shared on Facebook from abcnews.go.com about some millionaires that didn't have to pay any federal income taxes last year. Very soon after I posted it, I reconsidered and pulled it down--I've been staying away from politics on Facebook lately because I've been so frustrated. I had kind of hoped no one had seen it, but Ron was on it. Here's how it went down:
    
    
    Ron: What happened to your article??? I had a GREAT rebuttal and now it's gone???
    
    
    Me: Dude, I pulled it down. I just can't get my thoughts together on all this business. What is your rebuttal?
    
    
    Me: Every time I think I'm ready to engage in discussion, I change my mind... But I'd like to hear what you have to say.
    
    
    Me: Speaking of taxes. It's a sales tax "holiday weekend" in AR for back to school shopping. Think I'll go cash in like a big ballin' high roller! Lol.
    
    
    Ron: I had the presence of mind to hit copy before I lost it. So, [below] was the exact post that I was going to put on the article. What do you think?
    
    
    Ron: I'm sorry, but good for them. They have been smart with their money and have chosen investments that have gotten them the lowest tax burden. Do you have a ROTH IRA? If you don't, then you should. It just makes good investment sense. I myself do everything I can to pay as little to the govt as possible. What do they want to do, stop deductions for charities? That would just doom the charities. The real issue is the 46% overall that don't pay taxes. You can't vilify the millionaires without pointing the finger at them as well. Most of the millionaires enjoy the protection of the [government] and enjoy the roads they provide, but they are not taking advantage of all the entitlements that most of the others that don't pay taxes use. This is why a flat tax or a national sales tax is so attractive. A national sales tax would even get money from illegal revenue (drug dealers don't pay taxes) as this money still has to be spent. I just think blaming some people who are fortunate enough to make millions without paying taxes should be the bad guy. They should be admired by the rest of us. Don't we all want financial success?
    
    
    Me: In a perfect world, good for them. Unfortunately, wealth reciprocates wealth and poverty reciprocates poverty. Wonder how many of those 1500 millionaires that didn't pay taxes were born into poverty and climbed out to claim their tax free American dream? It is possible though--as we are constantly reminded. Highly unlikely, but possible.
    
    Heather and I both have a Roth IRA. We contribute as much as we can on our "fixed budget" every month. We purchased a new home last year in time to receive a 6000 dollar tax credit--not deduction--a credit. So I agree with part of what you said: it is wise to take advantage of tax credits and deductions every chance you get. I think we saved ourselves 10K or 12K last year alone by taking advantage of these "tax incentives." We still paid near a third of our income to the government. I also understand that the government provides goods and services for me and my family and my fellow citizens that we need. Things that make America what it is--the awesome home that it is to so many citizens.
    
    I commend the millionaires that donated enough of their money to charity to avoid taxes. (The article indicated that someone who made 2 million dollars, for example, could have donated 1 million and avoided federal income tax). Forgive me for being cynical, but I doubt that was the case very often. On the other hand, many of the tax-free millionaires paid significant income tax in other countries but not here. I have a hard time wrapping my mind around that one. It wasn't their money paying for handouts like basic medical care, food, and shelter. Let's be honest, the millionaires who did all those "smart" things with their money to avoid taxes were playing by rules that they got to write. It is corrupt--immoral. There is nothing fair or noble or admirable about it. Please tell me you know and understand that.
    
    There is no doubt, your mentality will make you and other people like you rich. Good for you. I'd like to see more people with that kind of money with a little more compassion and concern for others. I don't admire wealthy people because they are wealthy. I admire them when they use their wealth to make the world a better place. Castles, and yachts and diamond rings don't. Polo shirts and Gucci purses don't. Trust fund babies don't. Food, shelter, and basic medical services do. Clean drinking water does. Pot-hole free interstates and energy efficient cars do. Computers in public school classrooms do and qualified, passionate, well-compensated teachers do. Disaster relief funds and other emergency services do. College scholarships and the Peace Corps do. Etc., etc., etc.
    
    I'm afraid the ideological divide in this country has become insurmountable. It's not a good situation. I'm at a loss...
    
    
    Ron: I guess where we agree is that the system is hopelessly broken. Is it fair for someone to make massive amounts of money and pay no taxes? No. Neither is it fair to me for someone to make moderate amounts of money and pay no taxes. I guess that is my point. Most of the tax breaks in the tax code are there for a reason. The mortgage deduction was put in place to spur spending in realestate (though many would say it is a bad idea and encourages people to purchase homes more expensive than they should and helped cause our current economic problem). Charitable deductions encourage charitable donations and billions are given every year to organizations that do a much better job at helping the poor than the government does. The problem is when the govt does stupid stuff like making large trucks deductible for companies as "farming equipment" just to spur spending for new cars (done under Bush) or cash for clunkers which was ment to spur new car purchases and get old vehicles off the road (Obama). But cash for clunkers only artificially increased used car prices and got more people into debt that they couldn't pay.
    
    My problem is that making these 1,200 millionaires the bad guys will do nothing to fix our current problem. They are beating the system and there will always be people that are able to do that. The way we fix our problem is by getting more people to pay a share of the load. We have far too many people that do not contribute; they just take. We also need to stop spending. We need to fix entitlements and shut down parts of the govt that have outlived their usefulness. Have you ever heard of a government program that has ended? They don't. They just go on. Programs are created to fix a problem. The problem is that if they succeed, they fix the problem but don't go away. They continue. If they don't fix the problem, they continue. This mentality has to change. If it works, end the program. If it doesn't work, END THE PROGRAM and do something that does fix it. The truth is that most of what our federal govt does, it was not intended to do. Those of us that are paying taxes are asked to do too much for too many. We need to stop creating programs for what they are "intending" to do (though the intent may be admirable, i.e. Obamacare) and look at what we are truly able to do and what will be successful.
    
    Many difficult decisions are on the horizon. We have made a culture of people that live off of a few. That is not fair. We should get the govt out of the way and let people make and spend their own money. That in turn will increase revenue for the govt. For example, no one who has a TV with cable and a DVD player should be on food stamps. I don't want to pay for your food if you are spending your money on "wants" instead of "needs."
    
    Well, I could rant forever, but that would just make me late for church. Also, I due to the length of this note, I can't go back and proof what I wrote, so forgive me for typos and poor grammar. (I hate writing to you educators:)
    
    Btw, if you aren't going to church this morning, you can watch our service (I am singing) on calvarynow.com. I will be at the west campus at 11a. Have a great day.
    
    
    
    
    We ended it with some small talk and my request to publish this little dialogue on my suffering, neglected blog. He graciously and enthusiastically agreed. And he's looking for a debate. If you're interested, have at it!
    
    
    Ron's a good friend. I like having someone out there that I can talk to about these things without getting blood-spitting angry--someone who I actually like that can give me insight into what the other side is saying and thinking. At the very core, there are some things we can agree on. We're gonna have to find these things and talk about them if any of us want to have any *hope* for the future.
    
    
    Thanks old buddy. To use one of my dad's old jokes, you're alright I don't care what Dina says about you!