Eight Feet Deep

This afternoon I have been plagued by the thought of someone named Mitt was running for president. The Mitt to whom I refer is, of course, former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney. The candidate for the Republican presidential nomination is the son of the late George Romney, a former Michigan governor and presidential candidate who lost to Richard Nixon for the GOP nomination.

Not a whole lot comes to mind when I think of George Romney, other than I wonder why he named his son after a baseball glove and that I once knew from my work as a reporter the person who wrote a biography of George Romney. I never read Dr. Dan Angel’s book — George Romney: A Political Biography — but perhaps if Mitt Romney wins the GOP nomination, I will. That is provided I can find one as I saw only two copies for sale on Amazon.com.

Oh, and there was that unfortunate gaffe the elder Romney made about being “brainwashed.”

Actually, I doubt that George Romney named his son after a catcher’s mitt although I don’t know that for a fact. However, the Romney family does have an interesting background including grandparents with multiple wives.

Of course, just because someone’s great grandparents or great-great grandparents did something doesn’t mean a person is going to take up that particular trait or activity. All I am saying is that if polygamy was still legal in the United States, just think of what a business florists and greeting card companies might do with anniversaries and Valentine’s Day.

Even if polygamy was legal I would have trouble remembering one anniversary date much less 12.

This morning I walked across the street to get my morning coffee for 17 cents but it ended up costing 64 cents. The reason was the clerk was on the phone and I decided not to bother her and tell her I had brought my own cup which would have normally cost $0.17 (US). I had the money though and I like the lady working there and so I just paid the full price. My generosity aside, I looked up at the sign near the counter and saw prices for packs of Marlboro and Camels, or whatever, it wasn’t like the really cheap cigarettes. Nevertheless, the highest price for the smokes were $4.25 a pack. I am just grateful each time I see those signs and the month of October rolls around that in October 2000, I quit smoking, as far as I know, for good.

Although I have had some edgy times over the past two years, I have only had millisecond flashes of wanting to smoke a cigarette and in my dreams I have always resisted them. After smoking for about 27 years, I think that is cig-nificant. Okay, just shoot me for that one.

Hidee Ho! It’s Friday and it seems really strange working a 40 hour week. But that is what I am doing this week on my part-time job. I would like to say I have nothing profound to say, but that would be a lie since I am a walking-talking-shaking nuclear time bomb of profundity. Sez who? Nonetheless, I must finish up with work matters, grab my tin helmet, lunch pail and Thermos then head for home where I know the Mrs. will have me a great, home-cooked meal awaiting but not before she has brought me a couple of my favorite cocktails. If you know me, you know all of the above (except for working 40 hours) is total bulls**t. So who says I can’t have a little fun once in awhile?

Da ta, or data. Have a nice weekend. And if you are a federal employee like me, albeit I am part-time, enjoy your 3-day Columbus Day weekend.

… out of chicken s**t.

My palsy, no matter how slight, doesn’t gel well taking a quick snapshot with my little digital camera. So, part of the photo is blur effect with InfanView but most is my horrible original. Nonetheless, it perhaps gives a view of what the girl saw — if she saw anything — when the paramedics took her to the hospital.

First of all, yes, I’m still living in the damn motel. But at least it isn’t always dull here.

Opinions vary as to how the girl got here and why. But the reason she was carted away appeared to be some kind of OD, or “That would be my guess,” said a paramedic as he was about to take the girl away.

When I first saw her on the stretcher I thought she was one of the little niños who run around the driveway at all hours of the night. I keep worrying some ano estúpido will come barreling around the driveway and hit one of them.

But this was, according to witnesses, a 16-year-old girl. A guy, 30ish or 40ish maybe, in a pickup truck said he picked her up across the street at the store where he, allegedly, said he found out that she lived here at the motel. My neighbors said the girl was “out of it” and one of my Homes told me he called the police because she appeared to be barely breathing. Whether the story of the guy who picked her up actually picked her up at the store across the street and drove her here while she traveled into some sort of semi-to-un-conscious state, remains to be seen. One has to think of human behavior and how someone acts in such a situation. That, and the fact that people both young and old are out on the streets in various parts of this area doing whatever and whomever if you get my drift, and you have reasonable doubt.

But I have little doubt she will be out of the hospital, probably by about sun-up, feeling like she got into a rumble with a sack of s**t and the sack busted.

Live and learn. That is, provided you live at all.

Perhaps the greatest act of the Texas Legislature in recent yearss was the walkout in 2003 of House Democrats who fled to Oklahoma to stop a quorum and Republican-favored redistricting. It was only too bad the Republicans only tried to track down the Dems and did not follow them across the state line. Oklahomans — instead of Texans — could have then had the worst legislature that money can buy.

So am I trying to say the Texas Legislature is for sale? I don’t have to. All you need to do is read this latest report from my friends at Texans for Public Justice. The latest in their “Watch Your Assets” report chronicles how a gusher of political contributions from oil tycoon and corporate raider T. Boone Pickens found their way to state lawmakers. This time, however, the booty isn’t being spread around because of oil. No, the contributions are for water. And who said water and oil don’t mix?

Pickens has for several years now set his sights on mining water from the Olagalla Aquifer — which is a huge underground water source in the Great Plains extending all the way from South Dakota down to the Texas Panhandle — and shipping it some 320 miles via pipeline to Dallas. So what’s wrong with that, you might ask, especially if you live in the D-FW Metroplex? Well, Pickens has taken advantage of recent legislation passed by those he so generously showered with moolah which would allow him and several people who bought land from him and make their living off Pickens to form a water district over the 8-square-mile area Pickens and these people own. The district, according to TPJ, would have the power to raise cheap money using tax-free bonds as well as have land condemned through eminent domain along the pipeline’s right-of-way many miles beyond the water district’s boundaries.

The TPJ report is very illuminating. It spells out just how valuable an asset water has become (and will become) as well as the implications facing millions of Texans who could one day have their home taken away by some small, greedy entity hundreds of miles away. If you are a Texan and don’t think that such an issue matters, just ask some of the people in Arlington, Texas, whose homes were grabbed to make way for a new Dallas Cowboys stadium. And lest we not forget, there were the people whose land was taken so the George W. Bush-run Texas Rangers baseball team would have a new home which is now called the Ballpark in Arlington.

Folks better start paying attention to these things before the sheriff comes dragging you out of your house in the name of progress. That is, if you care about such matters.