OldSouth really has no idea where to invest his vote.
After twenty years or so of Democrat ownership, TN 8 is finally being abandoned by John Tanner, who decided to get out while he could.
So, we have three Republicans seeking the seat, in alphabetical order.
Stephen Fincher
George Flinn
Ron Kirkland
Fincher runs his large family-owned farm operation in Frog Jump, Tennessee. Really, no joke, there is a Frog Jump, Tennessee, although OS wonders why one would admit to it, much less boast of it. However, running a successful farming business is no small feat. It has very little to do with those pastoral distance shots with the music of Copland hovering in the background. He did announce his run before Tanner bowed out, and may have helped the blessed event occur. He travels with his family gospel-singing group in his spare time. The Southern Gospel Music culture is a world unto itself in many ways. OS knows more about it than he cares to admit, and don't ask him how he knows...
Flinn is a physician and businessman, with an engineering degree as well. He is a radiologist, and owns a series of radiology facilities, as well as a firm that owns some forty radio stations, Flinn Broadcasting. The man definitely knows how to organize things and make money, which OS considers a virtue.
There is an oddity here, though. Under Tennessee law, one does not need to live in a particular Congressional district in order to run for the seat. Given the imaginative manner in which the usually-Democrat-controlled state legislature cheerily gerrymanders districts to protect Democrat Members of Congress, this is not truly surprising, even though it is creepy. Flinn has taken advantage of that fact, and lives in Memphis (its own Congressional district, forever Democrat) while running for office in District 8, which stretches almost to Nashville. All very odd, but one has to admire his chutzpah, perhaps.
Ron Kirkland is a physician and businessman as well, practicing and managing a large medical practice in Jackson, TN, that provides most of the medical services for most of rural West Tennessee. He undoubtedly has prospered as well, again a virtue, assuming the earnings are acquired virtuously. One of the downsides of private-enterprise medicine is the same as public-sector medicine: large practices like this can tend to be anti-competitive, making life hell on any provider who may create competition. OS was recently regaled with just such a story, emanating from (you guessed it), Jackson, Tennessee. It may or may not have been Kirkland's outfit that screwed that provider, but it is illustrative of the problem.
The counties these firms serve begin to resemble plantations. OS lives in a county that was long dominated by such a practice, and the results were tragic in many cases. Fifth-rate medical care, fortunes built, patients regularly injured. OS is a capitalist, and thinks that rigged markets are evil.
All three candidates have formed the requisite circular firing squad, each accusing the other of secretly sleeping with Nancy Pelosi, worshipping Obama, and enthusiastically promoting abortion, while simultaneously assuring the voter 'I'm more conservative than THOSE GUYS!!'
OS is, well, not impressed.
Given the fact that each campaign probably has some snot-nosed kid working in the office whose job it is to scour for bloggers who write about the upcoming primary, OS hereby issues the invitation for someone from each camp to state, in fifty cogent words or less, why his guy merits a vote. Only rule is, no one can say anything remotely nasty or snide about the opponents.
Play nice, boys.
OS is curious to see if any of these gents is up to the linguistic task...
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The Barack And David Show: 'Special Relationship, Special Relationship, Special Relationship'
OS grinned broadly over his lunch sandwich, watching The Winner of the 2010 Nobel Peace Prize diffidently read copy to open the joint press conference with David Cameron this afternoon.
The copy had obviously been prepared for him, and he read it with all the passion of a hen-pecked husband reciting the 'HoneyDo' list that would occupy the Saturday he had planned for a fishing trip.
Within the first twenty seconds, we hear the words 'Special Relationship' (C'mon Barry, sell it! Sell it! Aw, jeez, why won't He sell it?) Followed closely by mention of common language, history, sacrifice, interests, values, etc. Ending paragraph contained the magic phrase 'Special Relationship'.
(OK, Barry--sell that beer thing, at least pretend to be hospitable! Aw, jeez, no!)
It was David and Barack referring to one another by first name, in addition.
Cameron came off much better than Himself, much more at ease, with a much better command of clear, unequivocal, English. He took pains to pin the decision to free the Lockerbie Bomber on the Scots, and he took pains to be friendly without being obsequious.
Obama looked like he wanted to slip out back for a smoke, could not wait for the event to end.
At least there's a moral to the tale. Amoral types like Obama do respond to one kind of stimulus, that being the prospect of public humiliation. A lot of people were watching, and no doubt The One had been thoroughly beaten about his ears and endlessly coached about HowToAct. Especially in the presence of the one man who can make one phone call, and pull his troops out of Afghanistan by next week, make another phone call and deny the US Navy access to British ports; make a few more, and make life miserable for American interests in many parts of the world.
The UK is a small island that casts a long long shadow, still. Somebody must have had a Come-To-Jesus with The One about that simple fact, 'cuz he's too ignorant and arrogant to figure out that not all the world is a Chicago ward.
Unlike Barry, David has a Rolodex, and knows how to use it. He also has more class on his worst day ever than Himself will muster in a lifetime. And, given the shabby treatment shown his country by the present occupant of the White House, no one on his side of the pond would begrudge him placing a few phone calls.
The copy had obviously been prepared for him, and he read it with all the passion of a hen-pecked husband reciting the 'HoneyDo' list that would occupy the Saturday he had planned for a fishing trip.
Within the first twenty seconds, we hear the words 'Special Relationship' (C'mon Barry, sell it! Sell it! Aw, jeez, why won't He sell it?) Followed closely by mention of common language, history, sacrifice, interests, values, etc. Ending paragraph contained the magic phrase 'Special Relationship'.
(OK, Barry--sell that beer thing, at least pretend to be hospitable! Aw, jeez, no!)
It was David and Barack referring to one another by first name, in addition.
Cameron came off much better than Himself, much more at ease, with a much better command of clear, unequivocal, English. He took pains to pin the decision to free the Lockerbie Bomber on the Scots, and he took pains to be friendly without being obsequious.
Obama looked like he wanted to slip out back for a smoke, could not wait for the event to end.
At least there's a moral to the tale. Amoral types like Obama do respond to one kind of stimulus, that being the prospect of public humiliation. A lot of people were watching, and no doubt The One had been thoroughly beaten about his ears and endlessly coached about HowToAct. Especially in the presence of the one man who can make one phone call, and pull his troops out of Afghanistan by next week, make another phone call and deny the US Navy access to British ports; make a few more, and make life miserable for American interests in many parts of the world.
The UK is a small island that casts a long long shadow, still. Somebody must have had a Come-To-Jesus with The One about that simple fact, 'cuz he's too ignorant and arrogant to figure out that not all the world is a Chicago ward.
Unlike Barry, David has a Rolodex, and knows how to use it. He also has more class on his worst day ever than Himself will muster in a lifetime. And, given the shabby treatment shown his country by the present occupant of the White House, no one on his side of the pond would begrudge him placing a few phone calls.
'Scuse Me While I Whine, Ever So Briefly
He really does attempt to avoid it, but some days...
This morning, he was on the receiving end (not completely unexpected) of a diatribe from an academic colleague, whom he's known for some forty years now. OS had to deliver some mildly unpleasant news yesterday. It was very mild stuff, but OS had to do his job and be the bearer of less-wonderful-tidings.
No one had lost a job, a house, a spouse, a child, received a diagnosis of cancer, suffered a stroke or heart attack. None of the above, not even close to that sort of level of severity. The reaction was, shall we say, disproportionate.
Then he got to talk with a caterer who told him they could pack soft drinks into box lunches with no problem, but to make up a crock of lemonade would be prohibitively expensive, as in, eight dollars per pitcher expensive. OS responded, 'This really beggars belief; this is why your hotel has a chef. Crush lemons, add sugar, add water, stir, adjust, add ice, serve. Just like iced tea, no?'
No, sir, we can't do that.
OS passionately believes that profits are good, but rape is bad.
His beloved United States seems to be in the grip of a few of pernicious attitudes.
1. We deserve to be successful, to be told that we are successful, and feel good about it--all the time, whether we actually did the work to accomplish that success. Failure is not an option, so we just won't allow anyone to tell us about it. (Think university grade inflation. Parents of twenty-one year old students raise Cain if their special child earns and is awarded a 'C'.)
2. We get to decide what is and aren't academic standards of expectation, from here in our corner of the world. 'Cuz it's us that sez so. If Professor Doolittle at Bugtussle State College has been teaching the same syllabus since 1987, then (ByGod!) that is the heart of the body of knowledge, and don't-chew-dare tell me otherwise. (Like I said, the reaction was disproportionate...)
3. We deserve to sell you a pitcher of lemonade for eight dollars, or (as in the hotel in Indy earlier this month) a shot of Jack for nine. 'Cuz it's us selling it to you. We be makin' money, honey, and it's your job to fork over. OS saw a story on Fox Business earlier today that convention venues in Chicago were charging exhibitors $1200 to connect electricity and internet access to their booths, and then marvelled that the trade shows decided to take their business elsewhere. That bar was deserted, by the way. Wonder why?
It's as if we have arrived at the firm belief that we can create our own reality, that the laws of gravity, math, ethics and mortality are mutable.
By us. 'Cuz it's, well, us!
There is a weird Christian heresy that floats through the culture here, called 'Name It And Claim It'. It posits, that because you are an adherent to this brand of the faith, God loves you better than that poor schlub Baptist down the street. God wants you to have all the goodies, all the time. (HAL-le-looooh-YAH!) Just decide what you want (Name It), pray real hard and donate generously via our TV ministry, and God will give it to (Claim It). 'Cuz it's you, and He really really really loves you better. It's you He's thinking of, 24/7/365 into eternity.
It sounds ridiculous, but it is sooooo beguiling. You don't even have to be an adherent of an heretical cult to fall for it. It's like it's in the water here. Think about what that sort of societal attitude might do to a culture, and its economy, over the long pull.
Wait a minute, it already has...
OS will stop whining now. But he just wants to say for the record that he is on the receiving end of unimaginably wonderful things in this world, including the ability and will to work like a Trojan for sixteen hours a day. And he doesn't deserve a bit of it. He still wakes up to the fabulous Mrs. OS every morning, shocked that she tolerates him, much less loves him like she does.
Whine ended, thanks for your indulgence.
This morning, he was on the receiving end (not completely unexpected) of a diatribe from an academic colleague, whom he's known for some forty years now. OS had to deliver some mildly unpleasant news yesterday. It was very mild stuff, but OS had to do his job and be the bearer of less-wonderful-tidings.
No one had lost a job, a house, a spouse, a child, received a diagnosis of cancer, suffered a stroke or heart attack. None of the above, not even close to that sort of level of severity. The reaction was, shall we say, disproportionate.
Then he got to talk with a caterer who told him they could pack soft drinks into box lunches with no problem, but to make up a crock of lemonade would be prohibitively expensive, as in, eight dollars per pitcher expensive. OS responded, 'This really beggars belief; this is why your hotel has a chef. Crush lemons, add sugar, add water, stir, adjust, add ice, serve. Just like iced tea, no?'
No, sir, we can't do that.
OS passionately believes that profits are good, but rape is bad.
His beloved United States seems to be in the grip of a few of pernicious attitudes.
1. We deserve to be successful, to be told that we are successful, and feel good about it--all the time, whether we actually did the work to accomplish that success. Failure is not an option, so we just won't allow anyone to tell us about it. (Think university grade inflation. Parents of twenty-one year old students raise Cain if their special child earns and is awarded a 'C'.)
2. We get to decide what is and aren't academic standards of expectation, from here in our corner of the world. 'Cuz it's us that sez so. If Professor Doolittle at Bugtussle State College has been teaching the same syllabus since 1987, then (ByGod!) that is the heart of the body of knowledge, and don't-chew-dare tell me otherwise. (Like I said, the reaction was disproportionate...)
3. We deserve to sell you a pitcher of lemonade for eight dollars, or (as in the hotel in Indy earlier this month) a shot of Jack for nine. 'Cuz it's us selling it to you. We be makin' money, honey, and it's your job to fork over. OS saw a story on Fox Business earlier today that convention venues in Chicago were charging exhibitors $1200 to connect electricity and internet access to their booths, and then marvelled that the trade shows decided to take their business elsewhere. That bar was deserted, by the way. Wonder why?
It's as if we have arrived at the firm belief that we can create our own reality, that the laws of gravity, math, ethics and mortality are mutable.
By us. 'Cuz it's, well, us!
There is a weird Christian heresy that floats through the culture here, called 'Name It And Claim It'. It posits, that because you are an adherent to this brand of the faith, God loves you better than that poor schlub Baptist down the street. God wants you to have all the goodies, all the time. (HAL-le-looooh-YAH!) Just decide what you want (Name It), pray real hard and donate generously via our TV ministry, and God will give it to (Claim It). 'Cuz it's you, and He really really really loves you better. It's you He's thinking of, 24/7/365 into eternity.
It sounds ridiculous, but it is sooooo beguiling. You don't even have to be an adherent of an heretical cult to fall for it. It's like it's in the water here. Think about what that sort of societal attitude might do to a culture, and its economy, over the long pull.
Wait a minute, it already has...
OS will stop whining now. But he just wants to say for the record that he is on the receiving end of unimaginably wonderful things in this world, including the ability and will to work like a Trojan for sixteen hours a day. And he doesn't deserve a bit of it. He still wakes up to the fabulous Mrs. OS every morning, shocked that she tolerates him, much less loves him like she does.
Whine ended, thanks for your indulgence.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Planet Obama: Today's Rose Garden Pronouncement
OS hardly knows whether to laugh or cry while reading this.
To that end, we all have to continue our efforts to do everything in our power to spur growth and hiring. And I hope the Senate acts this week on a package of tax cuts and expanded lending for small businesses, where most of America’s jobs are created.
What planet does he inhabit?
Enough already...not worth going through the litany...
Hat-tip to JDA, who always knows what to say while the rest of us just splutter in frustration.
To that end, we all have to continue our efforts to do everything in our power to spur growth and hiring. And I hope the Senate acts this week on a package of tax cuts and expanded lending for small businesses, where most of America’s jobs are created.
What planet does he inhabit?
Enough already...not worth going through the litany...
Hat-tip to JDA, who always knows what to say while the rest of us just splutter in frustration.
Hmm...More Than Meets The Eye in Gaza: New Shopping Mall Opens
When OS hears 'Gaza', he thinks 'mud huts, rockets firing at Israel, and neighborhoods blow to Perdition by the IDF'. And, apparently, there's a lot of that, except the rocket fire seems to have abated after the early 2009 thrashing administered to Hamas.
And, then again, there are scenes of true prosperity, even opulence, in Gaza as well.
Hmmm...somehow, the whole story is not being accurately told.
OS doesn't think this is some conspiracy one way or the other, but perhaps too many years of blood-curdling passions on one side or the other have totally skewed everyone's view.
Hmmm...
And, then again, there are scenes of true prosperity, even opulence, in Gaza as well.
Hmmm...somehow, the whole story is not being accurately told.
OS doesn't think this is some conspiracy one way or the other, but perhaps too many years of blood-curdling passions on one side or the other have totally skewed everyone's view.
Hmmm...
Wry Humor Kudos: NYTimes 'Little Wayne' Update
Let's hear a cheer (of a sort...) for entreprenurial ambition.
(and he had those tats done before he went to jail...)
(and he had those tats done before he went to jail...)
Oh Nooooooooooh Mister Bill!: Columbia U's President Calls for Government Underwriting Of The Press
What is it about people high in academia that causes them to simply abandon common sense?
Both the Federal Communications Commission and the Federal Trade Commission are undertaking studies of ways to ensure the steep economic decline faced by newspapers and broadcast news does not deprive Americans of the essential information they need as citizens. One idea under consideration is enhanced public funding for journalism.
Bollinger briefly bows in the direction of those who fear the implications of a state-funded media, but soothingly assures mere uninformed proles like me that there is nothing to fear.
Just leave it to ThePeopleInChargeOfSuchThings.
It's worked so well to date, right?
Both the Federal Communications Commission and the Federal Trade Commission are undertaking studies of ways to ensure the steep economic decline faced by newspapers and broadcast news does not deprive Americans of the essential information they need as citizens. One idea under consideration is enhanced public funding for journalism.
Bollinger briefly bows in the direction of those who fear the implications of a state-funded media, but soothingly assures mere uninformed proles like me that there is nothing to fear.
Just leave it to ThePeopleInChargeOfSuchThings.
It's worked so well to date, right?
More On Pena Esclusa: Video Posted Shortly Before His Arrest
Evidently, he saw events coming.
OS doesn't pretend to be an expert in the politics of South America, but this incident is troubling.
Comments and insights welcomed, in both English and Spanish.
OS doesn't pretend to be an expert in the politics of South America, but this incident is troubling.
Comments and insights welcomed, in both English and Spanish.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Oosthuizen Takes His Walk Up 18 At St. Andrews
And finally allows himself that smile of relief. A brief hug with his caddy as he walks off the tee, after seeing his tee shot land safely on the right side of the green, well away from the Valley of Sin. No need for heroics with a seven-stroke lead.
The wife, holding the baby daughter, daubing tears from her eyes. The occasional South African flag waving. The put for par drops, the big smile, the big kiss from his bride, and the kiss for his baby girl. The warm applause. The engraver adding his name to the Claret Jug. The calm, smiling young man, modestly talking with the BBC interviewer. Credit given to Ernie Els for mentoring the young champion.
The bookies had him at 200-1 on Wednesday, and here he is on Sunday.
Polite, cheerful, sober crowds in the stands. No vuvuzelas! No riots. No storefronts smashed. No one, on either the field of play or in the stands, injured. No players cursing at referees, no ejections, no yellow cards, no grudge matches, no controversies about the score. No vitriol from the runners-up, and no gloating or trash-talk from the winner. No multi-million dollar long-term contracts from teams that use municipal bonds to build stadiums that will be abandoned long before the term of the debt issue.
The low amateur, Mr. Jang, is recognized first, with a silver medal.
The runner-up, Mr. Westwood, is recognized with a silver tray.
Mr. Oosterhuizen gets the gold medal, the Claret Jug, and begins his remarks by wishing Mr. Mandela a happy 92nd birthday. Thanks to the R&A, his mom and dad, to his mentor Ernie Els, to the fans, Mr. Gary Player, and his wife and baby.
It's a great game. It's everything the NBA, NFL, NASCAR, and Premiere League aren't.
The wife, holding the baby daughter, daubing tears from her eyes. The occasional South African flag waving. The put for par drops, the big smile, the big kiss from his bride, and the kiss for his baby girl. The warm applause. The engraver adding his name to the Claret Jug. The calm, smiling young man, modestly talking with the BBC interviewer. Credit given to Ernie Els for mentoring the young champion.
The bookies had him at 200-1 on Wednesday, and here he is on Sunday.
Polite, cheerful, sober crowds in the stands. No vuvuzelas! No riots. No storefronts smashed. No one, on either the field of play or in the stands, injured. No players cursing at referees, no ejections, no yellow cards, no grudge matches, no controversies about the score. No vitriol from the runners-up, and no gloating or trash-talk from the winner. No multi-million dollar long-term contracts from teams that use municipal bonds to build stadiums that will be abandoned long before the term of the debt issue.
The low amateur, Mr. Jang, is recognized first, with a silver medal.
The runner-up, Mr. Westwood, is recognized with a silver tray.
Mr. Oosterhuizen gets the gold medal, the Claret Jug, and begins his remarks by wishing Mr. Mandela a happy 92nd birthday. Thanks to the R&A, his mom and dad, to his mentor Ernie Els, to the fans, Mr. Gary Player, and his wife and baby.
It's a great game. It's everything the NBA, NFL, NASCAR, and Premiere League aren't.
The Open Championship: Final Day
OldSouth freely admits it: Golf gets in the blood, and he's got the bug.
The first groups tee off in less than an hour from this posting--no, he's not going to force himself to stay awake for the moment, just to say he did it. He'll need some sleep to tune in to the early afternoon groups. Luis Oosterhuizen (who dat?) has come from obscurity and wrestled St. Andrews to the mat for three days in a row. All he has to do stay focused, come in at a couple under, and not worry about Casey and Kaymer and Westwood turning on the afterburners to catch up. And the weather has to cooperate.
That's all.
It should be entertaining. Someone may yet ace the 18th hole. Woods came tantalizingly close on Friday, and a number of tee shots blew past the hole this week. OS cannot imagine a 300+ yard drive through the wind...but that's why he's watching it on TV, not out there doing it himself. Alas, he caught the bug some forty years too late.
And, speaking of TV, OS has truly enjoyed his DirectTV service this week, as they feature four channels of coverage--the normal ESPN feed, 1st and 18th holes, Road Hole, and the International Feed, which wins hands down. No commercials, and jolly, wonderfully informed narration of the story of the tournament by the crew that broadcasts the European Tour every week. The camera work is less detailed, with lots of tower shots, and very little whiz-bang-computer-generated stuff like helicopter shots down the fairway. But the cameras do capture the sweep of the course, and the grandeur and atmosphere of the event.
The Open is like no other event, especially at St. Andrews. Time stands still, and genteel competition and good will rule the day.
The Open Championship site here.
It features video and audio links, live scoreboard, and more, in case you can't get the TV broadcast.
Enjoy!
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