You Ain’t So Smart

For many years now, citizens of the United States of America have been begging for criminals to make them victims.

Growing up, the populace of America has had its common sense removed to create a nation of sniveling sheep.

Although sheep are good for keeping meadows trimmed and producing wool, they also serve as food for wily wolves.

Allow me to explain.  Colleges and universities began teaching love and acceptance throughout the 1960’s and ‘70’s.  Included in that brain-washing era was the fact that criminals who committed horrible crimes should be spared the death penalty.

The simple reason for this nonsensical wave of humanity was that the criminals might be innocent.  Although they were subjected to numerous trials and re-trials and appeals, they needed to be spared.

Along the way, methods of executions have been altered, too.  Some effective ways to exact a quick death upon people have included a firing squad, hanging, and electrocution.  Because these tried and true exercises in the reduction of recidivism were criticized as “inhumane,” they were eliminated.

Super-smart human rights activists then decided it was time to make those miscreants’ trip to see God a painless one.  In an effort to eliminate the death penalty altogether by hamstringing the legal system, they offered an idea.

Why not use lethal injection?  The same way family pets are “put down,” those dangerous, non-repentant killers would be injected with a cocktail of drugs that would stop body functions – including heart pumping – to effectively and painlessly exterminate society’s vermin.

But after years of legal wrangling, those activists that so desperately wanted this method employed now want it rescinded.

The good news is that sane people insist it remain as a viable way to exact permanent justice upon the undesirable; the bad news is that the pharmaceutical companies that provide those drugs are now refusing to supply them for such purposes.

What to do?

Throughout those decades when America’s sheep felt everyone – EVERYONE – has a right to life (except innocent aborted babies,) and they were going to flex their muscles to demonstrate their power.

Part of that power display included forcing people to wear seatbelts, install fire alarms, wear helmets while riding bicycles, and quit smoking.

All are noble efforts that use the carrot and stick approach to change behavior, alas intrusive.

Being the problem-solver of most social issues, I see a simple and effective solution to this elimination of criminal problems.

To circumvent our nation’s sheep herds, I suggest the guvment wheel pallets of cigarettes into the cells of death row prisoners.

It seems the guvment has been crying about the gravity of cigarette smoking on both the smoker, and second-hand inhaler, alike.  In other words, if you smoke you’ll die.

This way, even if the prisoners don’t smoke, everyone on death row will be long deceased, first of second hand smoke, long before the appeals process is nearly complete.

You’re welcome, America.

Chock Full o’Baloney

Americans are chock full o’ facts, albeit wrong.

Not all information spouted by self-anointed experts is wrong; it is just overly massaged to fit their agendas.

When I was in school, back when we were taught things such as history, English, mathematics, and geography, we also learned science.

Science is the study of varying disciplines regarding the mechanics of life itself.  Chemistry, biology, and physics, are the top three basic sciences that every child should learn, but don’t.

Since the 1970’s “kinda scientists” began to mismanage science lab work.  Guys and gals who could get the attention of politicians discovered outlandish claims regarding science could actually garner taxpayer-funded grants that appealed to the weak minded and non-thinkers.

For instance, for decades, people have been misusing or misunderstanding data as fact.

Too many times I’ve heard the fact: “Most automobile accidents occur within 25-miles from home.”

This statement is used to demonstrate how dangerous it is to drive in cities, where the majority of people reside.

While true, it is not an accurate depiction of road danger.

Most city folk don’t need to drive more than a handful of miles to shop, go to school, or work.  And in the city, it is rare to travel more than a few miles to go anywhere.

Of course most accidents will occur nearby home given those proximities.  On the other hand, rural people must travel upwards of 12-miles to buy gasoline and foodstuffs, making their travel in excess of 25-miles, daily.

Official News Filter

Since there are far more people in the city areas than rural portions of America, the statistics are slanted to make a point.

And now the media are playing fast and loose with the truth to make a point rather than simply report news.

Anarchists who protest with violence are being cheered as protectors of the First Amendment, while protesters on the Right are being fingered as dangerous radicals.

And because of the stupid citizens being produced from today’s schools, this misinformation is being sold as the hard truth.

Most graduated high schoolers can’t provide a definition of Socialism, something the Left desperately want.

Information consumers need to decipher the words they are being fed.

Reader, beware.

Time for an Education

Always attempting to be timely, EasternShoreFishAndGame.com is here to serve.

Today we are beginning with an ever-popular quiz.

Q:  What occupation earns a low salary of $450,000?

Q:  What occupation pays a median salary of $1,900,000?

Q:  What occupation has its highest earner binging in $37,000,000?

These annual incomes are meager, to be sure.  I’ll wager living off of nearly two-million dollars a year is tough, since listening to these employees would demonstrate most of them cannot even speak English.

Even the lowest salary of nearly half-million bucks should be able to push these guys to the front of the welfare line, they have the audacity to complain about how bad their lives are.  Boo hoo.

If you haven’t already guessed, these are the obscene salaries of the National Football League whiners.

Yes, these are the clowns whose skills do not include life saving, financial planning, or even reading.  Their claim to fame is that they are largely over-sized, ill-educated, and arrogant – a bad combination, so say the least.

For several years now, these narcissistic douchebags have been giving Americans the middle finger.  Not realizing they are biting the proverbial hand that feeds them (likely because of their weak mental capacity,) their normal fans are switching the television off when the NFL is playing.

The answer to why the average Joe is turning to yard work instead of watching these poor examples of athleticism is because that offensive middle finger is in the form of kneeling during the playing of the National Anthem.

The National Anthem is played before each and every sporting event to pay respect to the flag and all Americans who have given their precious lives to allow these non-Mensa members the right to reside in this great country.

Rather than display honor and reverence, this self-aggrandizing bunch of losers are taking this solemn two minutes to proverbially spit upon the nation and its inhabitants. Some misperceived ideas to justify this offensive behavior is that they are victims of racism, their criminal cohorts are being killed in inordinate numbers by the racist police, they didn’t receive a quality education, and they dislike Nazis, are among other stupid, lame reasons.

All of last season this display of fake nerve had been both cheered and jeered.  The cheering crowds are the equally simple minded who feel sixty-years of integration isn’t enough, while the jeerers are those whose actually love this country over showmanship.

While it’s only pre-season, the NFL minstrels are at it once again, with the team owners and League Commissioner all hand-wringing in a circle.

They so badly want their TV audience back, but they also want to appear as though they side with their bad boy employees. 

Here’s a thought: Maybe, just maybe, all those No Fun League players – and there are 1,696 of them – who really want to effect change, would pony-up a couple of hundred thousand bucks for this poor excuse of phony care, during the off-season.  No, they would rather moon their fans and make this hot mess the problem of their fans; it's not.

Anyone too cowardly to stand up to the NFLers gets what he or she deserves.

The high-priced nabobs were given everything except an education about America, Americans, and sacrifices associated therewith.

It seems as though it’s time these slackers got real jobs and learned how to get along in the workplace, much as the rest of us did for a lot less money.

Use that knee to clean toilets and scrape gum off the floor, you whiners.  That and a minimum wage ought to humble you.

Dreadful and Such

A conundrum, for all you Canadians, is not a percussion instrument used in Latin music.  Rather, a conundrum is a confusing and difficult problem or question.

For several years now, the media has been spinning tales bordering on humorous “facts” and blatant lies.  This mash-up could be referred to a conglomeration betwixt The New York Times and CNN.

The result is sort of a goat-baby hybrid – not unlike Whoopie Goldberg – that crosses the line of too hideous to look at, but not too hideous to look away.

Before long, this wild fusion of false information and fake news takes on a life of its own with no apparent way to snuff the life out of it to preclude further breeding.

For example, the current wails are coming from self-righteous liberals, and doting followers, carrying signs and bullhorns calling for the immediate release of illegal aliens and their progeny.

Upon arrival at an official point-of-entry, migrants complete forms and associated paperwork that aids in the process of becoming American citizens.  Those people that arrive at non-official gaps in the Mexican-American border are sometimes captured by federal authorities.

Immigration and Customs Enforcement, abbreviated ICE, are some of those charged with this protection of our proverbial front door.

People arriving with small children are separated from those children for the protection of the kids to ensure the illegal entrants are not human smugglers, by ICE Agents.  Verification of both the alleged parents and accompanying children is a must for the safety of those youngsters-in-question.  Liberals insist more families come into the United States without question.

It’s all pretty simple, actually.  Except the Left insists the possible smugglers remain with the children they illegally brought in through this American home invasion.  No Democrat can succinctly explain why, they simply say no one should be separated from their children.  Simply put, America is much too appalling in which to live.

And soon upon us will be National Professional Whiners, also known as the NFL, who seem to believe they have any credibility.  They don’t.

A poor example of a quarterback, Colin Kaepernack, knelt down during the National Anthem ceremony before a game, a few years back.

Most of the other brain trust of the NFL thought that was a great idea, and within a few weeks they followed suit.  Soon there were too many football clowns to make sense of the issue.

Some kneelers claimed they were kneeling to protest police brutality, some were protesting racism, one was even protesting Nazis.  No lie.

America, according to this group of stupid malcontents, is too dreadful in which to live.  Yet, they do, with their exorbitant salaries, exotics cars, and equally stupid trophy wives.

And the president, Donald Trump, is – well, you fill-in-the-blank.  Racist, homophobe, misogynist, bigot, stupid, racist, racist, and all around bad guy, must be impeached, then forced to listen to Joy Bahar tapes!

Once again we are told America is terrible, quickly approaching the point-of-no-return.  All this blather is squarely blamed upon President Donald Trump and anyone who voted for him.  We are witnessing the opening scene of The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, according to the weak-minded Democrats.

Less-than-legal border crossing

Yet after all this horror and mayhem being thrust upon citizens and non-citizens and illegal aliens alike, they insist on staying in the greatest country on the planet, the United States of America.

My conundrum is why would anyone with such dismay and hate of a country and its citizens want more people to come here, and why would so many insist on remaining here just to kneel?

If things are that bad, please leave.  I like life here, and I’m tired of conundrums.

Bye.

Fool Me Twice

Neighbors packing to skip out on their rent woke me with annoying noise at 4:00 AM.  After tossing about the bed for fifteen minutes, or so, Smokey and I got up to begin the day.

To drown out the snoring from my still-sleeping sainted wife, I switched on the television.

World news berating President Trump for inching closer to world peace forced me to surf through the remaining 914 satellite channels desperately searching for something to watch.  Pickin’s were slim.

Eventually, after developing a callous on my channel button thumb, I discovered I received something called Animal Planet, aka.: APL.

APL is critter-oriented with shows about everything from gerbils to whatever eats them and what eats the eaters.

The show had already begun when I came upon a guy with a British accent in search of the elusive “gbanai.”

According to repeated recaps, a gbanai is a seldom seen aquatic creature that lives on the land, floats on the water, has lots of teeth, and eats well.  This expedition was being conducted in a location I missed because of my thumb cramp causing me to miss the opening information.  Evidently, this gbanai thing is a living dinosaur.  Wow!

This British fellow was making his way down some sort of river that closely resembled a cesspool – chocolate colored water with debris that could have popped out of a garbage disposal.  He was seated in an inflatable rubber raft.

The description of this gbanai called to mind a crocodile, but I’m certain the drama level would be far less if a spade was actually called a spade.

This guy and his entourage stopped to spend the night on land with a witness who had seen this gbanai thing on several different occasions.  In pretty good English, this jungle dweller explained they needed to travel another hour down-river to reach the infamous gbanai home turf.

At the crack of dawn, the crew was making their way through swirling dirty eddies in primitive canoes and that previously-mentioned pool toy.  Of course, one of the canoes sprung a leak, sinking the already questionable vessel along with some cameras and cheez crackers.

This river parade continued in the name of science.

In between the four-minute portions of the show were interlaced countless five-minute commercials for the SPCA, trying to guilt viewers into submitting only $20 per month to save starving, mistreated animals.

Realizing this show could have been run in roughly a third of the time, I began thinking about the reality of this reality program.

Since I am a news junkie, I catch copious amounts of information on pretty much everything, including royal weddings and cashew farm watering regulations.

Maybe a gbanai?  Maybe not.

In all my years I have never heard of the discovery of a gbanai, or any dinosaur, by a British man, in some third-world country.  I’m certain even the New York Times couldn’t suppress that news.

It was an epiphany that I had been duped into wasting all this time watching and waiting for a bunch of hapless river hunters look for a crocodile.

I switched it off promising myself to never watch another one of these half-baked sensational shows.

You’ll need to excuse me because now I’m looking for an educational program on bigfoot.

Too Much For Too Old

When I was a kid I occasionally mustered up enough money for a rock concert to attend.  Rock concerts featured musicians with loud guitars, amplifiers, drums, and vocalists. 

Not to be confused with rap, whose venue includes gaily prancing about a stage with a microphone inside their mouths, facial scowls, while reciting bad poetry, rock was very entertaining.

Many years ago, one of the themes of rock was corporate America and the hold it had on the poor.

Songs about the Vietnam War, homeless people, drugs, making love, and overthrowing everyone in a blue corporate suit, were making the rounds.  And those blue corporate suits were referred to as “da man.”

We, as a young people with vision, were expected to join together to protest anything and everything our parents held dear.

My parents worked, and worked hard, for what we had.  My Dad toiled in a hot factory in order to put food on our kitchen table and a roof over our heads.  My Mother worked outside the home, too.

To figuratively spit in their eyes because some musician suggested we do so would have been counterproductive for me, to say the least. 

Antique show

One of these popular bands spouting hate for da man was The Eagles.  They had such great insight into America accompanied by mellow lyrics set to appropriately catchy tunes.

They often talked about da man and how he had too much money, too much power, too much control, and something needed to be done.  Now.

Just as most of my generation did, they grew up, kind of.  A few years ago, these geriatrics – just as the Blues Brothers did – “got the band back together.”  They found new musicians to fill the voids left by old members who were unfortunately incarcerated or deceased.

This newly reformed bunch of has-beens felt compelled to hit the road and do a tour for all their deserving fans.

They were ready to perform their noted works about not enough money for the working man and how everyone should be able to use drugs-of-choice with impunity.

Their venue was near Manassas, Virginia, and my sainted wife felt it would be nice to see them perform live.

She is a huge Neil Diamond fan – another one of those ‘60’s musical greats.  She searched for tickets, only to discover the cheap seats were reasonably priced at a mere $195.

Approaching the arm-and-leg price of an artificial heart transplant, we both decided it was a bit much for poor people like us to pay to listen to these relics carp about da man making too much money.

We opted for a rental VHS movie, cheap wine, and a bowl of popcorn.

Maybe, just maybe, The Eagles should have saved and invested their money for their twilight years rather than gouging poor folks like me.

I’ll wager da man could’ve helped them with financial advice.

Too Convoluted

Some years ago, while traveling on business with several colleagues, our group voted to head out for some morning coffee.

Because I enjoy my coffee just like my women – hot, black, strong, and bitter – I am not very particular from whence it comes.

This overpaid entourage decided their coffee-shop-of-choice would be some little java joint called Starbucks.

At this point in the era of fashionable coffee beverages, Starbucks was competing with Peet’s, San Francisco Coffee, and Dunkin Donuts, to be the number one vendor of coffee in America.

I’m sure my group decided on Starbucks because they were selling a $1.50-cup of coffee for $4.50.  And this group was not the most frugal; they were exceptionally trendy, though.

Upon arrival, we were met with a long line extending outside their forest green doors.  Cell phones were relatively new so, the majority of potential patrons were carrying, and pretending to read – the latest novels.

While waiting to enter to give my simple order to the coffee girl, I was appropriately informed they were referred to as baristas.  Because I never made it through the “A’s” in the dictionary, I looked up the word “barista” and discovered it was a word for someone who dispenses coffee in a coffee shop.  By the way, I’m currently making my way through the “C’s”.

This is not any different than airlines calling their airplane staff “stewardesses,” rather than the appropriate “flying waitresses.”

The line inched forward permitting ample time to read the overhead menu.  This giant board offered more new words, giving me the impression I had re-entered sixth grade.

Items listed for sale were latte, espresso, ristretto, cascara, macchiato, and frappucino, all listed as legitimate drinks.  Sure.

To clarify things, I grew up in a Polish household where we ate things called gołąbki, pierogi, bigos, and pączki.  Yes. I know these are spelled correctly because I studied Polish for eight years.

And in living in this Polish home, I had a simple personal rule: ‘Never put anything in your mouth that you cannot spell.’

As an aside, I could always spell hamburgers, hot dogs, and French fries, with aplomb.  But I digress.

In any case, my position in the Starbucks line was the number three position.  The number one yuppie demanded some sort of blonde latte mascara decathlon.  Then the next person in the cue asked for a frappucino with a double shot of licenzo camellia.

As I was nearly at-bat, I carefully listened to the patron directly ahead of me.  This guy didn’t even have to think about his order of Cinnamon Dolce Latte.  I craned my neck to see what this foreign drink was, with little luck.

My colleagues were well off to the side, sipping their overly complicated concoctions, patiently waiting my return.

It was my turn when the barista looked into my bespectacled eyes and, without saying a word, asked me what I wanted.

“A cup of black coffee, please,” was what I ordered.

She shook her bleach blond hair and looked-for a clarification.

“Black coffee, please,” was that clarification.

I realized I had finally stumped this barista who would likely be demoted to coffee server status.

After a small Starbuck barista huddle, a few nods and furtive glances proved successful. 

My coffee arrived just like my women – except expensive.