Last week I mentioned two reports that showed up in the newspaper:
Assuming our Representative to Congress is correct, the effect of the spill won't actually be that bad: it may dissipate, he said to the local newspapers. Perhaps. People on the coast are complaining about an awful smell in the air.
Nevertheless, the Coast is preparing for the worst. If I understand an article in the Sun-Herald correctly, some officials have claimed that their discussions with federal officials have implied that Mississippi's coast is to be offered as a "sacrificial lamb" because it would be the easiest to clean. Supposedly, that which doesn't dissipate will emulsify, becoming a peanut butter-like substance.
Up north, of course, they're still recovering from the record tornado from last week. There were some concerns that this week would be pretty bad, too, but Mississippi was let off pretty lightly this week—certainly in comparison to those poor souls in Arkansas.
And it isn't even hurricane season yet…
According to US News & World Report, Mississippi is the second-best state at giving as many students as possible an above-average education.
Well, no, not really. But it can look that way if you don't pay attention to too many details. On page 75 of the January 2010 issue, we find a table that ranks schools. When sorted by the column, "Silver or better (% of total)", the list looks like,
| 1. Connecticut |
| 2. Massachusetts |
| 3. California |
| 4. New Jersey |
| 5. New York |
| … |
| 45. Mississippi |
| 46. Kansas |
| 47. (tie) Hawaii, North Dakota, Montana |
| 1. Hawaii |
| 2. Mississippi |
| 3. West Virginia |
| 4. New Mexico |
| 5. Arkansas |
| … |
| 45. Florida |
| 46. (tie) Maryland, Minnesota |
| 48. Ohio |
| 49. Nevada |
According to Wikipedia, the average low for Hattiesburg in January is 36o. Last year, the first week's highs were in the 60s and 70s, which is actually not far off the average. This year, many of our highs are lower than the average low, and our lows are in the teens. I feel like Minnesota's weather decided it was too cold up there, and moved south.
All of this surely means one thing: since Brett Favre is from these parts, having attended USM even, and since Minnesota weather is moving down here: he's going to win another Super Bowl ring.
This scientific prognostication is provided free of charge. YOU READ IT HERE FIRST.
The constant drumbeat of news telling people how bad life is in the South never seems to end. In case you haven't been paying attention: we're poorer, fatter, sicker, dumber, and more violent than the rest of the country. We're also more "conservative"*, have fewer labor unions, virtually no public transit, get pregnant out of marriage more often, etc. So say all the media outlets based in… uhm, help me out here… ah yes: New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Washington, D.C., and so forth.
(Hmm, Yankees. What a coincidence.)
Anyway, there's a new study out which was not conducted from up north, but from across the pond, and it's quite something. According to this British Study, the happiest states in the Union are New York, California, Illinois, and D.C. Right? Wrong, actually.
Of all places, Louisiana is the happiest state in the Union. Before you jump to the conclusion that Governor Jindal should thank all those sinners in New Orleans who will surely regret this come Judgment Day, let me point out that
Alabama, Florida, Mississippi, South Carolina, and Tennessee all appear in the top ten States. I mean, the only states of the Bible Belt missing from that list are Arkansas and Georgia, and they're ranked 17 and 19, respectively. The top ten are rounded out by Hawaii, Arizona, Montana, and Maine, states that everyone will recognize as centers of cosmopolitan culture.
Weirder yet, the authors of the study say that they don't base their conclusions merely on a survey, but on studying "objective factors" as well: things that include—I am not making this up, I swear! read the article!—environmental "greenness", violent crime, student-teacher ratio, and local spending on education and highways.
I don't get it. The easiest way to get happy is fire water, right? I mean, that's what college students do to get happy, ain't it? That's why they call it happy hour, ain't it? An' if you're fixin' to buy some fire water in this state, then unless it's your run-of-the-mill horse pi—uhm, beer, you have to visit a Wine & Liquor establishment. And they ain't even open on Sundays, so you know people around here have got to be dyin' from depression at least one day every week!!!
So what do people around here have to be so happy about? After all, it's not as if there is a relationship between religiosity and happiness.
Or something.
Anyway, what about those earthly paradises in D.C., Illinois, California, and New York? I wouldn't move there anytime soon if I were you; they were ranked 36, 45, 46, and 51, respectively. Imagine that: New York is the unhappiest state of the Union. Damn, that explains a lot.
*conservative: Whatever that means, considering we receive a disproportionate amount of federal outlays compared to our taxes. Southern senators have a well-deserved notoriety for their ability to direct federal dollars this way, which is why virtually every government installation is named for some Senator: the Trent Lott Center for Entrepreneurial Excellence, the Thad Cochran Center for Agricultural Research, NASA Stennis Space Center, etc., etc. ad nauseam. As if Trent Lott knows anything about entrepreneurship, Thad Cochran knows anything about agriculture, or John Stennis knew anything about space exploration. Say what you will about the Russians; at least they name scientific and academic installations after people who actually, you know, contributed something to the field.
Edit: Sorry, forgot to thank the First Thoughts weblog, which is where I found it. Their take on it is pretty funny.
I went biking along the Longleaf Trace at midday today for a good hour. That took me out past my normal route, but on my slow bike only 4 miles out from the university.
In that hour, I spooked four critters: two deer, a fox squirrel, and a box turtle.
I'd never even heard of a fox squirrel before.
Today I spotted on one of the chalkboards in a hallway,
Wake up America, before you lose all your freedoms! How can the "Fed" fix your grandmother's heart when it can't even fix the pothole in front of your driveway?I could be wrong, but I was under the impression that the "Fed" doesn't fix potholes on local roads: that would be the state and local governments.
California, which is struggling to close a $24.3 billion budget gap, faces the prospect of a "multi-notch" downgrade in its credit rating if the state's legislature fails to act quickly to produce a budget, Moody's Investors Service warned on Friday. …The state's current A2 credit rating is Moody's sixth-highest investment grade and makes California the lowest rated of the 50 states.(emphasis added) ... Read More!
The A2 rating is just five notches above speculative status and Moody's raised the potential for the rating to tumble toward "junk" status…
When the childlike view of the world went, nothing replaced it… nothing replaced it… nothing replaced it… —Pink Floyd, "Signs of Life"
Last Sunday's paper informer me that the dealer who sold me my current vehicle has closed shop. That surprised me, since I thought they were healthy. I reckon the economic environment is taking its toll.
I won't mourn the passing of the dealer's sales division; I wholly reviled their high-pressure, strong-arm tactics. I do regret losing the service division, since (a) I never found them to be anything but polite and competent; and (b) the closest dealer is now 71 miles away!
Too bad I didn't buy a car manufactured by GM or Chrysler. Their dealers remain open, and offer ridiculous financing deals to boot.
I wish I could put in a plug for Saturn here, but according to Consumer Reports' latest annual automotive issue, Saturn's reliability is very nearly the worst in the business. That's a loooooong way down from the good ol' days, when an SL carried an impressive number of patents, and lasted more than ten years. (One of my brothers is still driving my 96 SL.)
I raise nevertheless a Cherry Coke toast to the Saturn of yore, and to the engineers, American and foreign alike, who already are inventing tomorrow.
The other day, my brother emailed me,
How are things in the worst state in the union?He was referring, of course, to the fact that I live in Mississippi, generally disdained as the poorest, fattest, unhealthiest, least educated state in the Union.
In pursuit of refinancing to lower my fixed-rate interest, I recently talked with several lenders, both banks and credit unions, ranging from Virginia to North Carolina to Mississippi. All of them say that they're still making loans, pointing out that they didn't make bad mortgage deals. All of them were happy to discuss doing business with me. Sadly, it looks as if I'll have to wait a while longer, since I haven't paid off enough of the house to lower my rates by anything more than a trivial amount—unless I switch to an adjustable-rate mortgage. Fat chance of that!
On the other hand, the Hattiesburg American reported Sunday that the apparent end of the subprime market is starting to affect Mississippi. We now lead the nation in delinquent mortgages, although the bankers say some of that is due to fallout from hurricane Katrina. Here's a fun quote:
The foreclosure rate for subprime ARM loans in the state is 11.23 percent while prime ARM loans in foreclosure are at 4.26 percent, according to the MBA. The MBA also found that 29 percent of Mississippi borrowers are nonprime, or borrow with FHA or subprime loans, compared to 19 percent nationwide.... Read More!
Gustav didn't exactly spare southern Mississippi. The coast was flooded by a storm surge, power has gone out in many locations, and the National Weather Service reported quite a few tornados in the area, many with visual confirmation. One may have passed near my residence, or it may not. WDAM maddened me by reporting a possible tornado that had Hattiesburg in its sights; after reporting that it had the potential to impact 66,000 residents, they subsequently broadcast an interview of the Jones County Emergency Poobah something-or-other. It was maddening, and came after hours of nothing but weather news. I don't know of anything happening around here, and the Hattiesburg American isn't reporting anything, so apparently it was one of those sky tornadoes that rotates in the clouds without deigning to descend.
Of course, I could just be hyperventilating. I tend to do that sometimes. I saw some teenage neighbors pass those very same minutes jumping noisily into a giant puddle that had formed in their front yard. Oh, well.
What has been providential for southern Mississippi has been disastrous for southern Louisiana. The scale of the damage there likely isn't known, so it's a little early to breathe the sigh of relief that I see many people doing. The urban/rural divide makes it harder to report on rural Louisiana, just as it made it harder to report the effects of Katrina in Mississippi. There are many parts of southern Mississippi that still have not recovered from the storm: emtpy slabs bereft of houses that once gazed over the Gulf line Highway 90 in Gulfport. I hope the media won't neglect rural Louisiana.
My son and I were on the roof this afternoon when we spotted the first serious clouds from Hurricane Gustav to the southwest. They darkened a yellow sky and sunk it down to grey. I finished caulking the vent for the hot water heater, helped my son down the ladder, then followed him. We had a number of things still to do before heading inside. The rain did not come immediately, but it arrived in a fury.
Then it disappeared, to be replaced by a light rain that passed shortly thereafter.
Today's developments on the hurricane have struck me as nothing short of miraculous. Yesterday evening meteorologists maintained that Gustav would develop into a Category 5 hurricane that would exhaust itself within 24 hours into a Category 4—much as Katrina, a Category 5 at one point, diminished to a Category 3 before striking land. As of now, however, Gustav remains a Category 3 hurricane and I haven't seen any recent forecasts that suggest it will strengthen. Dry air from the west appears to be cutting into its water supply, and air pressure in the eye is rising. All of these bode well; the risk of hurricane force winds in the Hattiesburg area has remained at low levels (5%-10% according to NOAA), and
Returning from Mass today, I noticed that US-98 (Hardy Street) was full of cars. To my dismay, the Sun-Herald had already sold out from the gas station where I buy it, so I had to settle for a copy of the Clarion-Ledger in addition to my usual Hattiesburg American. I later learned from the news that the very route I had found so peaceful yesterday became a bottleneck today, primarily because gas stations along the interstate had run out of fuel, prompting drivers to explore their options along US-11. Despite the contraflow, the interstates were choked with cars, and I understood that MDOT contemplated closing some exits, although I don't know how many. A woman interviewed on the news said that her trip to Hattiesburg took twelve hours. Ordinarily, she claimed, it requires only three. That reminds me of a late winter snowstorm I endured in southern Virginia twelve years ago: a four-hour drive from Franklin County to Newport News took twice as long—but I didn't encounter any snow until halfway through the trip, south of Richmond.
Another million people abandoned the coast today, and many of them are staying in local shelters. The local high school, for example, had about 150 refugees, and the coordinator said they could take another 350. I observed no shortages of milk or other items in the supermarket—indeed, there was a lot more than I usually see on an ordinary day—but there were also more shoppers than I recall from Sabbath mornings, so who knows how long that lasted.
The local news station breaks into NBC's programming at the top of every hour to update viewers. That group has been more helpful than the websites of either the Weather Channel or NOAA, and has provided interesting graphics that helped me make a decision whether to stay or head out. The most important one, which I can't find on any website, has been a wind forecast. They also showed a new graphic generated by a computer model that predicts the likelihood of of power outages. They discouraged us from trusting this latter graphic too much, but I found it fascinating nevertheless. If their model be trustworthy, we'll have no troubles with electricity where I live, but Louisiana will be a disaster.
If Providence continues to bless this area, I will write tomorrow that absolutely nothing of consequence occurred aside from a tornado or two—and if God should truly smile on us, we won't have any of those, either. I appreciated the prayer made at Mass: that God protect us and our neighbors from the ravages of hurricanes, especially of Gustav. With Gustav currently remaining at Category 3, it's looking as if God may just answer that prayer for us and for our neighbors.
My sister-in-law was scheduled to return to Russia today. For various reasons, we had her fly in and out of New Orleans rather than Gulfport. I left at 7.30 this morning and drove south on I-59, then turned east on I-10 until I came to Louis Armstrong International Airport. Traffic was very light in the direction I was traveling, but the opposite direction was already busy at 7.30am. The I-10 bridge east out of New Orleans was backed up for miles—it was also backed up the last time I drove there for some reason, but today was much worse—and the airport parking garage was more or less full.
Police at the airport directed anyone who wasn't catching an outbound flight away from the parking garage. I drove immediately to the top level and found a spot by virtue of Providence's sending someone out to their car at about the same time.
Once inside the airport I noticed a large number of uniforms. I talked with one who confirmed for me that TSA has flooded the place with out-of-towners in order to free up the locals for other duties; I also noticed a large number of police and military. They hadn't set up checkpoints and it didn't resemble a war zone, but I managed to get my sister-in-law checked in and through the security line quickly, then waited to make sure that her plane left with her on it. Another virtue of leaving when I did was that the security line was short; only twenty or thirty minutes later it grew to three or four times its previous length.
While waiting, I sat next to a couple of women. One of them was leaving after having flown in for an interview; the company had made an offer, and she had accepted. She's in her fifties I think, and her children have grown and asked her in bewilderment why she would want to move to New Orleans, especially at a time like this. It turns out that New Orleans is her hometown; she grew up there, left as a teenager, and has missed the place ever since. She and the other woman agree that there's no place like home,* and definitely no place like New Orleans; it's always in your blood.
The other told the first that she would have liked to leave, but her husband wouldn't be able to carry certain things, so they were going to try to ride it out. (This second woman looked middle-class. Remember that I was in an airport.) Her teenage son was watching a couple of large dogs in cages, and he wanted her to stay near him—I didn't catch it all, but he finished with, I'm gonna go off on him in a minute, referring to some man, presumably a uniform, who was apparently expressing displeasure with the cages' location. The woman stood up and followed her son, so I didn't learn more.
On my way out, I avoided I-10 and took the Ponchartrain Causeway, the longest bridge in the world.** Traffic there was remarkably light; in Covington I subsequently took LA-21 through an amazingly small town named Bush. In the wonderfully named Bogalusa I turned east into Mississippi, then followed US-11 most of the way home. There was no traffic to speak of on this largely rural route. It took me almost three hours, much longer than following the interstates.
I went that way because I wanted to avoid high traffic along the interstates. I already mentioned the long backup on I-10; what about the other interstates? In Hattiesburg I-59 had light traffic. The Hattiesburg American reports that one million residents are estimated to have fled the Gulf Coast today. The Governor will open contraflow patterns tomorrow morning on the Interstates, so they must be expecting a lot more tomorrow.
I mentioned yesterday the bus driver's remark that local hotels were full; I also wrote that I had heard various reasons for this, starting with the hurricane but including Southern Miss' football game this evening. It's the first game for the new coach, and the university's marketing department has whipped everyone into a frenzy. My entire Honors Calculus class—with a handful of exceptions—had donned yellow shirts as a show of school spirit.***
The Hattiesburg American's online website tells us more. The combination of the football game and the approaching hurricane are making it impossible for evacuees to find a place to stay.**** Shelters are opening around town and throughout Mississippi; the 10pm news showed fire trucks that had arrived from places as far away as Indiana, Pennsylvania and New York.***** The hurricane has grown to Category 4 and my neighbor, who works for the police, is being called to 24-hour duty Monday morning. His wife and daughter leave for Jackson tomorrow with friends.
According to the nightly news, Hattiesburg will endure nothing worse than tropical storm winds. I haven't decided yet if I'll leave, but I know that weather is mathematically chaotic, so I'm keeping an eye on things and have studied two routes already.
*No place like home: I sympathize with the women somewhat. I stopped in Raleigh a month ago and experienced a strong nostalgia. I wake in a strong melancholy from dreams where I am telling acquaintances in North Carolina how much I miss the place. Strangely, North Carolina isn't my home, and I didn't much care for the place my first two or three years there.
**Back when I lived in Rocky Mount or after I first came to Hattiesburg, I dreamt that I was driving my family on a bridge across an enormous body of water. The skyline of a city eventually materialized in the hazy distance. I remember nothing else about the dream, and I had quite forgotten it until I glanced in my rear view mirror while on the Ponchartrain Causeway. Deja vu, the image resembled the bridge, the water, and the skyline in that dream. The details differed substantially, but the general outline was exactly the same.
***yellow shirts: I asked them why, and they told me school spirit for the football game, so it must be true. I told them I never understood that, even when I was in college myself. To put this in perspective: I entered college before they were born. Dear God, I'm getting old… for which I thank you.
****Incidentally, why does it occur to no one to cancel the football game in order to free up resources (like hotel rooms) on the eve of a major hurricane? Well, it occurred to me. I thought about it, and realized that the risk of the hurricane's striking here must not be high enough to justify the immense loss of money that would follow from canceling the first game of the season. Yet there is a certainty of refugees looking for hotel rooms, regardless of the risk of the hurricane.
*****The station subsequently showed an amusing political commercial paid for by the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee, using Republican presidential nominee John McCain's well-known and harsh criticism of earmarks to attack Republican Senator Roger Wicker, who gave hundreds of thousands of dollars, or maybe even millions, to unnamed special interests. I won't comment further except to note that Southern Miss has a building named after Senator Thad Cochran and another after former Senator Trent Lott, and on my drive back from New Orleans today I passed an agricultural research institute run by Mississippi State University named after Cochran, who probably knows as much about agricultural science as I do. Wicker was named to replace Lott, who retired last year, so he hasn't been in office long enough to have anything named after him, but I don't expect I'll have to wait long. What I find amusing, aside from the clear irony that both McCain and Wicker are Republicans, is the rank hypocrisy of the DSCC in doing this:
Hurricane Gustav may come this way, and those who lived through Katrina have the jitters. Colleagues at the university have told me that even though Hattiesburg is ~70 miles from the coast, Katrina's winds were 100 mph even here. Water wasn't safe to drink for nearly a week in the city; in the suburbs it was worse. Likewise electricity was out, so there was no air conditioning to mitigate the heat and humidity that settled in Katrina's wake. Trees were down everywhere, including the interstates, making it nearly impossible for supply trucks to pass through.—And again, that's here in Hattiesburg. You can imagine that many people are praying fervently that Gustav will pass elsewhere, else not grow too strong.
This morning's bus chatter was primarily about Hurricane Gustav. I'll add some other comments that I found amusing. I'll try to spell the words the way they sounded, rather than following proper rules of spelling. I decided to write "I" properly, but it sounds somewhere between a northern "I" and an "Ah".
Hep me out, Jesus.
He is, Babra. Today's Friday!
…
People think a hurrican's somethin' bad. I don't. A hurrican's a blessin'. …People on the coast, they see a hurrican as a vacation. …They be sayin', Yeah we gettin' our paychecks early! (This rider claimed to have grown up on the coast.)
…
(The bus driver, who in the evenings delivers pizza:) Every hotel hee' (here) been booked. …Plus, first checks come out taday. So you know I'm gonna be out there tonight. (At first I thought she meant that the hotels were booked because of Gustav; this conversation was in the temporal vicinity of a remark on mandatory evacuations from New Orleans. I learned in the afternoon however that the reservations are for tomorrow's college football game.)
…
My daughter belongs in Mississippi Mental Health. (guffaws of laughter) She do! That girl is crazy. This was followed by more sentiments that the man's listeners agreed with, but I can't repeat them.
The buses in Germantown, MD and Raleigh, NC were never like this. Few riders talked with others; few even recognized or knew each other. Riders usually sat quietly.—No, that's not true. At night, the buses in Raleigh carried a couple of garrulous gentlemen. Even I made a habit of talking with them, and antisocial folk such as myself don't loosen our tongues easily. (A habit of reading on the bus contributes to this public aloofness.)
My son and I have started taking the bus to and from work and school. Even with the reduced price of gasoline, we're more or less breaking even on the cost of fuel. It's more relaxing, and the car gets less wear and tear.
The bus drops us off at the mall at different times. Yesterday (that would be Friday) he was walking home from the mall, facing traffic while he walked. There's no sidewalk, so he walked on the grass at the edge of the road.
An oncoming car slowed to a stop beside him. The window slid down, revealing in the driver's seat a white lady who looked to be in her 60s.
What the f— are you doing? she demanded of him.
Walking, he answered quite simply.
The window slid back up, and she gunned the engine.
He swears this is the truth. I would love to hear her side of the story.
* The title for this post is also the theme of a commercial that Blue Cross Blue Shield of Mississippi runs on the local TV stations, which apparently is based on a public relations campaign they're running.
Methinks that not everyone has gotten the message.
Mississippi has no state lottery yet, but southern Mississippi has been friendly to gambling for quite some time. The coast features a number of casinos like the Beau Rivage, the Island View (with Emeril!), and a bunch of others. Originally it was illegal for gambling to take place on land, so the casinos built their hotels on the beach and the actual casino over the water (I am not making this up). After Hurricane Katrina I understand that the legislature in Jackson relented and allowed the actual gambling to take place on land, so long as it was coastal. A Native American tribe wanted some of the action, too, but they're have trouble because (a) their reservation isn't coastal, and (b) the other casinos are trying to keep them out. Methinks that (a) is just an excuse to cover for (b).
Anyway, this culture of gambling appears to have inspired the local fire ants. Some alarmingly large mounds are springing up all over the neighborhood. My wife's description of one such mound cannot be beaten: Look, they built a casino hotel under that mailbox. It was indeed an impressive mound.
A few days later, they tried to do the same thing in our yard, strategically placed between two of my wife's mums. I can't fault their choice of location; with yellow mums on one side and purple mums on the other, the view would have been impressive.
I nevertheless remained firm in my opposition to gambling, regardless of the eloquent entreaties of their lobby. Two days and one blister later, I paid a surprise inspection with some mound destroyer. A lot of ants were in that mound. Piles of them poured out short after the granules began to tumble onto the mound.
A few minutes later, it was all over. I watched for a while, trapped in a perverse mixture of pity and glee. I find it hard not to pity the agony of God's creatures, but I had acquired one blister already and another one while treating the mound. Quite frankly, better them than me. A bunch of winged ants were among the dying, so I figured I had hit a major headquarters.
Today I was looking at it again, though, and to my surprise a few fire ants were rummaging among the corpses of their fallen comrades. Some seemed to fall prey to the remaining granules; others appeared to stroll around undeterred. Where did they come from? What was going on there?
Fascinating creatures.
One of the great ironies of life is that for nearly all of human history, being fat was considered a sign of health, wealth, and (if you were female) fertility. Here now come modern times to correct old superstitions. The wealthy pay doctors to make them look as if they haven't had a decent meal in years, while the lower classes fret over the fact that they eat healthier than kings of old, and look it, too. Even pregnant women today worry that their husbands will be displeased with the amount of fat that they've put on, and will be tempted to sample other options. I don't know what's worse; that our culture breeds that fear, or that I've known enough men to know that women are very often right.
Here in Mississippi, where (with one exception) my wife and I are still the only people over 15 years old that I've seen walking around a neighborhood, obesity is a real problem, blamed for pretty much every health problem the state has. Poverty is blamed for the obesity. That sounds really weird if you stop to think about it long enough; only in these modern American States would someone think to classify poverty as a cause of obesity.
Comes now a triumvirate of Mississippi legislators, Messieurs Ted Mayhall from Southaven, John Read from Gautier, and Bobby Shows from Ellisville, to introduce a bill into the legislature that would prohibit restaurants from serving obese people. In the immortal words of Dave Barry, I am not making this up.
By his own admission, Rep. Read is no lightweight politician, in the non-metaphorical sense of "lightweight", so he himself would be banned from such restaurants. The point isn't to actually pass the law, but to draw attention to the problem. That hasn't stopped anyone from complaining that this offensive bill perpetuates discrimination against the obese. Apparently they've confused our politicians with those of New York City.
I don't see why people are so upset. This is precisely the sort of mischief that State governments should be getting into. If they're going to collect a 7% sales tax, very nearly the highest in the nation, with no exemption for food, they very well ought to combat rampant obesity with symbolic, meaningless gestures. At least Governor Barbour goes walking in a commercial with his wife and bunch of children.
What could they really do to fix the problem? That would make for a good family discussion one day while we take the 5 minute leisurely stroll to the mall. Unfortunately, we can't take that walk. The mall really is only a 5 minute walk away, but there is no sidewalk on the potholed road that leads there, and cars fly by quite a bit faster than the 35 mph speed limit implies.
I'm still trying to figure out what they do in Jackson with all that money. They're not building sidewalks, and they're not paying policemen to watch for speeders along Weathersby Road. I don't even feel safe in my vehicle sometimes, let alone on my feet at the side of the road. Don't even get me started on the sparsity of streetlights or the lack of serious bus service.
It's too bad these three men don't represent my area. Two are Republicans and one is a Democrat, which in Mississippi tells you nothing more than the lawyers' club they hang out with. In any case, these men have my vote. Anyone un-serious enough to think that obesity can be tackled by introducing a bill that would forbid restaurants from serving the obese deserves a seat in the state legislature no less than Caligula's horse Incitatus deserved his seat in the Roman Senate.
Yes, dear reader, the best part of having a weblog is knowing that my writings leave a legacy that guarantee I will never be elected to anything.
Really, am I the first to remark on the fact that we are facing a once-in-a-lifetime event? Super Tuesday and Carnival/Carneval/Mardi Gras are both on the same day this year, and they're only two days after the Super Bowl. The entire Western world is wallowing vice right before Ash Wednesday this year. If that doesn't correspond to one of the seven seals in the Apocalypse of St. John, someone should correct it.
You read that right! I hold indeed no higher esteem for dancing around in skimpy outfits, pigging out on sweets like King Cake, and collecting plastic beads to hang from one's rear view mirror than I hold for participating in a presidential primary election. I'd swear off voting for Lent, but I might actually have to vote once Mississippi's primary rolls around.
One thing at a time, though. About Carnevale/Carnival/Mardi Gras, I can't wait until it's over and done with. Here in southern Mississippi the Protestants get more fun out of it than Catholics in Venice do, and that's saying something.
I think we're all too scared to be good Catholics here. I visit Holy Mass and the deacon hammers us about the importance of having a personal relationship with Jesus Christ; I turn on the nightly news and see a bunch of Protestants engaging in the most lascivious behavior imaginable. Even the university has given us two days off, but we have only one day off for Good Friday and Easter. Sorry, but that's just wrong.
Today's newspapers featured several people dressed up in king and queen outfits for their Krewes. The king of the Krewe of Zeus is a Methodist; his queen, a Baptist. Once again, that's just wrong. If these clowns aren't sporting ashes on their foreheads come Wednesday I'm going to quit blogging for Lent in addition to giving up sweets and taking a walk every day. (Trying to take the President's advice and lose some pork.)
Speaking of fat and of Fat Tuesday, why isn't there a Carnesalve/Dimanche Gras festival once Lent ends? It seems odd that we should say goodbye to meat with such licentious glee, but hardly think to welcome it back on Easter Sunday. There are some things about people I will never figure out. Isn't it someone's job to figure out questions like that? If not, why not? Questions like this keep one awake at night.
Back to the primary, another comedy in the making. I'm out of the country come March 11th, so I called up the county clerk to find out what I have to do about an absentee ballot. The answer is that I'll have to drive 30 minutes to the county courthouse to fill one out in person. Yes, sir, you read that right. Virginia and North Carolina had no problems sending me an absentee ballot, but Mississippi's too cheap to spend the $0.41 to send me an absentee ballott if I'm actually in the area when I request it. That there's one of the benefits of the higher sales tax we pay in this state; I'm still trying to figure out what they do with it in Jackson. (I have my suspicions, but it wouldn't be appropriate to write them down here.) If only I had a graduate student; then I could send him or her to go vote for me. If that isn't one of the benefits of graduate students, it should be.
The best that can be said about primary politics in this country is that it beats the way people have gone about choosing leaders pretty much anywhere and anywhen else. By the time everyone's done backstabbing, denouncing, and misrepresenting each other, I doubt anyone is left to vote for one candidate instead of against another. Still, it does seem less nasty than having the parties spill rivers of blood on the fields of Antietam or, for that matter,Hastings.
Personally, I'd rather write in a candidate than vote against someone, which is what I did in 2004. However, if President Bush is on the ballot again this fall I am voting against him. I favor term limits for Presidents, Senators, Congressmen, Governors, Supreme Court Justices, and fathers. As a matter of fact, the sooner my term as father expires, the better; I miss the quiet life and can't wait to get back. Sometimes I wish my kids would impeach and be done with it; alas, they seem blissfully unaware of this option. I wonder if it's ethical to campaign for my own impeachment.
For all the trouble we have with elections in this country, and for all our dissatisfaction with the end result, we should be grateful for a few things.
I went to confession today. The priest absolved me of my sins and gave me detailed instructions on how I should vote. Knowing that I am a faithful Catholic, he showed me a letter signed by the bishop of Opus Dei, noting which candidates had promised to subvert liberty by swearing fealty to Pope Benedict XVI and his successors in perpetuity. I dutifully memorized the list (what do you think we do in confession, talk about our sins? LOL) before I headed out to the precinct.
If you believe all that, you may be reading too many Chick comics. Or you might just have voted for Theodore "the Man" Bilbo one century ago.
Whatever you can say about modern mudslinging, today's mudslingers are rank amateurs compared with Bilbo, and he got as good as he gave. I have never seen a contemporary headline* like this one from the Jacskon Daily News**: (source)
WAR HORSE OF YAZOO BROKE GOOD WALKING STICK OVER THE HEAD OF POPLARVILLE PERVERTI'll give you three guesses as to which term refers to Bilbo, and it's neither "war horse", nor "good walking stick", nor "Yazoo".
Fred Sullens, the editor of the Jackson Daily News suggested in print that with Bilbo as governor the eagle on the dome of the state capitol should be replaced with a "puking buzzard."Today's newspapers are perplexed as to why they don't command the subscriptions that they used to command. I respectfully submit that if they wrote headlines like those, they might just recover readers from the weblogs. It's not as if anyone reads Daily Kos or Instapundit for their careful, thoughtful analysis of the issues.
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