Eight Feet Deep

Just how gullible do you think I am?

Such a question should be asked of each American citizen before he or she enters a voting booth. Unfortunately, if that was a hard and fast rule our low voter turnout would be even more dismal. But maybe not because our fellow United Staters keep seeming to buy a pig in a poke — or a cat in the bag if you prefer — when it comes to picking their elected officials.

By and large, Americans can be pretty dupable. One only has to listen to the local news to hear of what new scam is being played upon otherwise unsuspecting, and most often elderly, citizens.

But others who know better but are hindered due to some chemical form of stupidity or the other and find themselves on the end of a trick that winds up putting money in others’ pockets. Probably the most memorable scam I can remember hearing people speak of is the great Angelina River jump that never was.

Now I wasn’t living in Nacogdoches, Texas, at the time this happened but according to local hippie/college-hangers-on lore, during the late 1970s a guy — I wish I could say his name but I am afraid if the guy actually exists he might see this one day and sue me — spread the word around town that he was going to jump the nearby Angelina River in his car.

The kind of car — be it a GTO or Nova or Gremlin or Pinto — escapes me as do other details. But this guy allegedly went around town telling folks about his proposed feat all of which was to take place during the era of the great daredevil exploits of Evil Knievel.

Apparently, this fellow collected money under the guise of building a ramp or perhaps it was for admission or whatever. Nonetheless, he supposedly collected some money and told the populace where to be and at what time for his great river jump.

As the story goes, the East Texas daredevil showed up at the appointed time and place, his breathless — well, probably more like beer breath — fans awaiting with eager anticipation. The backwoods Knievel told his audience: “Okay, let me just back up a little more so I can get a better start.”

So back the GTO or Nova or Pinto the driver did. And did some more. And some more. And more. More. And … You guessed it, the driver fled the scene leaving nothing but a dusty trail and a bunch of folks scratching their heads, saying: “Huh?” Reportedly, our daredevil scammer used the money he collected to buy a bunch of kegs for a party that night. The details start to get foggy as to whether any of those the daredevil took for a few bucks showed up at the guy’s party that night for repeated cups of Old Milwaukee and perhaps too open up a can of Whup Ass.

Thus one sees that if people can get excited enough to throw away good money on a good trick then they probably won’t worry much if they get fooled by what the candidate for president, county commissioner or dog catcher promises and will ultimately not deliver. So just a word of warning this election year. If a candidate comes to town to make a speech and then starts slowly backing up and up and up some more … I think I might consider voting for his or her opponent.

If I could trust that everyone would know what the saying: “Like a broken record” means then I might use that phrase to describe how Prez Gee Dubya sounds when he speaks of fixing the economic/oil crisis/thingy. Thingy. That’s a technical term meaning “something or other.”

But a lot of people probably have never seen a phonograph record which tends to “skip” and repeat what it’s playing when it is broke. Compact discs also do this — and quite remarkably — with what is an even more annoying effect than vinyl.

To get to the point, however, Bush repeats the same mantra the GOPs in Congress have chanted: “Drill more, drill offshore, drill more, drill offshore … ” And, oh yeah, let’s take out a few polar bears to drill in ANWR (pronounced Ann-WARR as in Sadat, kind of).

Now having a little mineral property that has been yielding very little wealth lately, I have no opposition to more domestic drilling or drilling offshore for that matter. What is kind of galling is that the oil companies already have shiploads of mineral rights in areas which can be drilled in such as off the Texas and Louisiana coast that are currently dormant exploration-wise.

And let us not forget that more drilling in offshore areas where exploration is now will not make gasoline decline to 99 cents per gallon anytime soon if Congress authorizes such action next week.

I guess Gee Dubya and his boys believe that if you say it enough times it will come true. Maybe I will give it a try.

A billion bucks. A billion bucks. A billion bucks. Catherine Zeta-Jones. A billion bucks …

It is that time again where I reside, which is on the Upper Texas Coast. That time would be looking out at every little tropical wave between here and the western coast of Africa and wondering if that wave will turn into something bigger and badder.

Right now a little piece of atmospheric energy is being watched although it is currently just a low pressure system located about 1,200 miles east of the Lesser Antilles. That location itself is probably 2,500 miles away from where I sit and thus has a lot of water and even island land to cover before it is something that could possibly hit us.

But since we have been hit by two hurricanes during the past three years after experiencing few such storms over the last half-century or so it is something we all have to think a bit about in these parts. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get some canned goods and some batteries and some water together, and perhaps save up a few bucks for gasoline. Of course, by the time a hurricane heads toward us the offshore rigs in the Gulf of Mexico will be emptied and gas will probably hit $6 per gallon.

Ah, there is nothing quite like hurricane season to make one’s insides churn with concern. Of course, you can take the Bush administration approach: “Don’t worry. Be happy.” Whichever makes you feel the safest I suppose.

It is astonishing that before this moment I hadn’t changed for almost 10 months the old sayings appearing below my blog title. This marks the 22nd time I have left different words of wisdom by others for all to see and I believe the late Adm. Stockdale’s quote is quite appropriate for the way I feel today.

Stockdale, whose Washington Post obit notes, is both a Medal of Honor recipient and a former vice presidential candidate for Ross Perot’s failed run. And as his final hurrah points out Stockdale came off rather goofy in the 1992 vice presidential candidate debate when he asked those rhetorical words I quote above.

But brainiacs often appear dumber than they really are while people who exude intelligence are many times in reality as stupid as a football bat. The late admiral was no dummy and the questions he ask are as timely as they are thoughtful. Especially today, as I mentioned because this has been one crappy day.

Ah, one might ask however, what is one crappy day amongst hundreds of days which are great, good or even mediocre? It’s one crappy day. That’s what it is. All of which points toward a moral: If you ask the right question, you get an answer if you are lucky.

For some reason the library computer system doesn’t like me or my political opinions because the piece I just spent almost an hour on turned out looking like Paris Hilton on a 3-day binge complicated by a case of the blind staggers. I shall try again tomorrow.