Who doesn't like free stuff? I know I do. Yet, it's not that easy to come by. Or at least it wasn't. That was before retailers instituted what are known variously as Reward or Loyalty Programs. I am an avid user of such programs.
My attraction to R&L programs probably started in the 90's. An avid reader of military history, the forlorn Military History Book Club used to have a come-on that allowed you to buy four books for a penny each (unless otherwise noted; the exceptions were never anything I wanted) and shipping and handling, with no obligation to buy another book. I signed up, bought a bargain book or two, and then quit the club. Remarkably, a few months later, the MHBC wanted me back...for the same deal. I mean, they'd send basically the same offer as the first one, with only the language we want you back being the difference, so I signed up again. I would find the four most expensive books that I could get for a penny each -- all books that interested me -- pay the shipping and handling and then quit the club. It was like a combination of Groundhog Day and Christmas Day. This went on for a few years. I think all told I got over $1,000.00 worth of books (retail) for around $100.00 shipping and handling (plus the penny a book, of course).
As if this weren't bad enough, the venerable Book of the Month Club followed suit. So of course, never one to pass up a bargain, I signed up with BOMC...and quit...and signed up...and quit...and signed up...it was ridiculous.
Eventually, the clubs hired someone with functioning grey matter and the terms of membership were changed. No longer was there no obligation to buy a book at club prices; I haven't been a member of either club since.
So that's how I ended up getting hooked on R&L programs.
Nowadays, there are as many R&L programs as there are businesses. But not all R&L programs were created equal. Nay, I tell you. Some are downright frustrating.
Take Outback, for example. Great food, horrible R&L program. What's wrong with it? I wish I could tell you. I can't even explain it, much less benefit from it. Some programs are so chintzy that you have to spend $150.00 to get a $5.00 coupon. That's neither a Reward Program nor a Loyalty Program. That's a Tuppence Program or a Fool Program, because there's not much offered for being so stupid.
Sometimes, the programs can be really frustrating. For example, the closest Culver's was in a town about ten miles from our house, so I signed up for it and put that as my frequent Culver's. No sooner had I joined that R&L program but one opened in our home town less than a mile from our house. I called corporate, explained the problem and was assured that my hometown Culver's was now my primary sport. So the next time I got an offer for a free custard it was good only at the Culver's ten miles from my house. Luckily, I don't like custard enough to complain about it.
Chili's has a decent R&L program. The only problem is that they keep moving the goalposts. Karen and I dined there one night and saw that we had 300-odd points on our way to a free meal at 420 points. When next we returned, it was 520 points we needed. We complained to the manager, whose hands were tied (he was sympathetic). So the last couple of times we've been there we wanted to check on the Ziosk what our points balance was, only to see that we couldn't see what our balance it. I still don't know what it is.
Red Robin became frustrating because I changed my email. I doubt most people think about changing the email with which they signed up for R&L programs. I know I didn't. So a year later, when I thought about it, I couldn't remember it...and RR acted like I was asking for the nuclear launch codes when I wanted to get into my R&L profile. Believe me, I don't like endless French fries that much.
Some, though, are exceptionally run. Speedway's is so easy. Not only do I have to use my rewards card (because I can punch in a code instead) but they give free stuff away all the time. Each seventh drink is free. Right now I can earn 7,000 points if I use my card to purchase something ten times before the end of the month. Why would I want that? Because I can reduce my price per gallon at their pumps by twenty-five cents with 4250 points. That's not a bad savings on a long trip.
All told, I probably have around fifty rewards cards. My wayward brother and his even more senseless fiancée bought me a Blackhawks wallet (a wallet with an Indian head on it) as if I'd ever be caught dead using it. Since I didn't have a use for it, I decided to store all my rewards cards in it (because some programs still require the cards for benefits) and the thing is almost two inches thick. I know, it's a little sick, but I just think of all the free stuff I get by using the stupid things.
R&L programs continue to evolve, getting easier to use and offering bigger benefits. I'll keep doing it even after I qualify for the senior discount (I wonder if I can stack senior discounts with R&L programs...). It's like a game to me, almost, although sometimes it drives Karen nuts.
I'm sure once she reads this she'll curse the guys who came up with the overly generous membership offers at MHBC and BOMC. O' well.
But I do wonder where they've gone...
(c) 2017 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Friday, March 24, 2017
Friday, March 3, 2017
Surgery
My absence from this blog was due to the first real surgery I've had in my life. Sure, I had a double hernia replaced when I was a month old, but how many of us remember anything from that time in our lives? I can't remember much from before I was five-years-old, although Karen remembers things from an earlier age, perhaps three-years-old. Girls, as they say, do develop faster than boys.
While I was home recuperating from this first adult surgery, I was pretty bored in between the therapy sessions designed to rehabilitate my hip. Sleep was a difficulty for the first two weeks, contrary to what some would think. Between having to be attached to a device designed to prevent blood clots from reoccurring and to ice my surgical scar and the pain of not being able to sleep comfortably on my side as is my wont, it was pretty miserable. Just recently I've begun to sleep through the night -- five weeks after the surgery.
Add to that having to use a walker, which then became a cane, and one can imagine the fun. The best part about it is that I get to do this again come May.
Despite the relative difficulties which, by the by, were far worse for Karen than for me -- I'm not the world's easiest patient simply because I don't like the thought of others having to do things for me -- I was able to take notice of some things during my recovery:
-- I love war movies. I own plenty of them. They never get old. But there are only so many war movies I can watch over a two week period. I watched the following movies during my recovery at home: Lone Survivor, Zero Dark Thirty, Sahara, We Were Soldiers, Band of Brothers, Zulu, Platoon, Gettysburg, and a few more I can't remember. I would have watched The Pacific as well if I hadn't misplaced it.
-- Carrying plates of food or glasses of beverages is possible with a walker or a cane if one practices.
-- Likewise, putting on pants or socks even with surgically repaired legs is possible is one is careful.
-- I've noticed I have a unique problem with food. No, I've actually lost weight over the past month, not gained it. But once when I went to the freezer for the ice pack for my hip, I noticed a package of sausages I'd bought before my surgery. They're still good -- Karen wouldn't eat them, but she wouldn't eat them if they were freshly made -- but for some odd reason, I'll buy food I want to eat and put it away, as if for a rainy day. We're not in wartime conditions, nor is food being rationed, so there's no logical reason not to eat it. It's as if I'm storing nuts away for the winter that never gets here. The sausages are on my menu for the weekend.
-- A few years ago, someone circulated one of those games that people with too much time on their hands devise: Thirty corporate logos that we all see everyday -- name them. Well, I've come up with a twist on this game: After sitting home watching endless hours of television, I've noticed the pharmaceutical industry could be used for the same purpose: We've seen all these drugs advertised -- Xarelto, Movantix, Osphena, Humira, Lyrica, Viagra, Eliquis, Xeljanz, Celebrex, Restasis -- but how many of can remember what the drugs are designed to treat? Unless one is taking the drug, it's unlikely someone can name with accuracy what each of these drugs is used to treat. What's more, there seem to be new drugs every week! A far more difficult test would be to list the potential side-effects accurately.
-- Having the love and support of a person whom one cherishes is humbling. Listening to Karen take over the chores while I sat on my keister, helpless, was beyond frustrating. In fact, the memory of it saddens me to my core. At the same time, I realize just how fortunate I am to have her. I think about so many people who don't have someone who, thoughtfully and selflessly, would do for them what Karen did for me. In some ways, I had two surgeries, one actual -- my hip -- and one virtual -- my heart. Everyone should be as lucky as I am.
(c) 2017 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
While I was home recuperating from this first adult surgery, I was pretty bored in between the therapy sessions designed to rehabilitate my hip. Sleep was a difficulty for the first two weeks, contrary to what some would think. Between having to be attached to a device designed to prevent blood clots from reoccurring and to ice my surgical scar and the pain of not being able to sleep comfortably on my side as is my wont, it was pretty miserable. Just recently I've begun to sleep through the night -- five weeks after the surgery.
Add to that having to use a walker, which then became a cane, and one can imagine the fun. The best part about it is that I get to do this again come May.
Despite the relative difficulties which, by the by, were far worse for Karen than for me -- I'm not the world's easiest patient simply because I don't like the thought of others having to do things for me -- I was able to take notice of some things during my recovery:
-- I love war movies. I own plenty of them. They never get old. But there are only so many war movies I can watch over a two week period. I watched the following movies during my recovery at home: Lone Survivor, Zero Dark Thirty, Sahara, We Were Soldiers, Band of Brothers, Zulu, Platoon, Gettysburg, and a few more I can't remember. I would have watched The Pacific as well if I hadn't misplaced it.
-- Carrying plates of food or glasses of beverages is possible with a walker or a cane if one practices.
-- Likewise, putting on pants or socks even with surgically repaired legs is possible is one is careful.
-- I've noticed I have a unique problem with food. No, I've actually lost weight over the past month, not gained it. But once when I went to the freezer for the ice pack for my hip, I noticed a package of sausages I'd bought before my surgery. They're still good -- Karen wouldn't eat them, but she wouldn't eat them if they were freshly made -- but for some odd reason, I'll buy food I want to eat and put it away, as if for a rainy day. We're not in wartime conditions, nor is food being rationed, so there's no logical reason not to eat it. It's as if I'm storing nuts away for the winter that never gets here. The sausages are on my menu for the weekend.
-- A few years ago, someone circulated one of those games that people with too much time on their hands devise: Thirty corporate logos that we all see everyday -- name them. Well, I've come up with a twist on this game: After sitting home watching endless hours of television, I've noticed the pharmaceutical industry could be used for the same purpose: We've seen all these drugs advertised -- Xarelto, Movantix, Osphena, Humira, Lyrica, Viagra, Eliquis, Xeljanz, Celebrex, Restasis -- but how many of can remember what the drugs are designed to treat? Unless one is taking the drug, it's unlikely someone can name with accuracy what each of these drugs is used to treat. What's more, there seem to be new drugs every week! A far more difficult test would be to list the potential side-effects accurately.
-- Having the love and support of a person whom one cherishes is humbling. Listening to Karen take over the chores while I sat on my keister, helpless, was beyond frustrating. In fact, the memory of it saddens me to my core. At the same time, I realize just how fortunate I am to have her. I think about so many people who don't have someone who, thoughtfully and selflessly, would do for them what Karen did for me. In some ways, I had two surgeries, one actual -- my hip -- and one virtual -- my heart. Everyone should be as lucky as I am.
(c) 2017 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Thursday, March 2, 2017
State of the Union Address
First of all, I'm back. Surgery kept me away from the keyboard for nearly six weeks, but that didn't mean I wasn't chomping at the bit.
Ordinarily, I don't pay any attention to the State of the Union Address (or SUA). It's nothing more than political theater for me. Sure, we want to hear the right things, and typically, the SUA is designed to do just that. But it's nothing more than grandstanding by the POTUS and the members of Congress. I suppose that it instills the necessary backbone in citizens and puts some hesitation in our enemies' hearts.
Everyone wanted to see whether President Trump would revert to his old campaign self or show a more presidential side. There are, of course, differences of opinion on how Mr. Trump was perceived, but generally the reports are favorable. Within the MSM, there were detractors, but there were even some who, by any measure, are his foes who accorded him favorable marks.
Personally, I thought he was very presidential in his SUA. He didn't revert to those verbal ticks where he repeated phrases, editorialized his own words and other things that were evident on the campaign trail. If I have a criticism of his speech, it was that he spent far too much time looking to his left at the Republicans and not nearly enough time glowering at the Democrats to his right, who deserved to be talked to directly. His cadence was measured, his verbiage crafted for the common man and his demeanor anything but haughty. He showed he can be presidential when he wants to be.
I'm not a fan of all the standing ovations Congress gives our POTUS, whoever it may be. Applause is fine, but do they all really need to stand so much?
There was one thing, however, that irked me to no end. I understand partisan politics, and I understand the phrase loyal opposition. There's almost an obligation to oppose a member of the other party, I suppose, but I lose track of the argument when the beneficiaries of the discussion, whether it be the country or the citizens, are at issue.
The Democrats acted for all intents and purposes like spoiled teenagers who had been grounded and not allowed to use their electronic devices for a week. I've never seen such unnecessarily petulant behavior in the Congress. It's one thing to be opposed; it's quite another to display one's disapproval like a child.
The white clothing, the thumbs down, the sour faces while Mr. Trump spoke. Looking at one's PDA, not shaking his hand when he entered the chamber, refusing to applaud even those segments of his speech that agreed in principle with their own -- how childish! And then leaving the minute his speech ended like fans of a team that was just destroyed in an athletic contest. Never have I seen such puerile behavior from a political party.
Disagreement is fine. It's even encouraged when it's genuine. But this manufactured disapproval and its infantile manifestations were ridiculous. It's almost as if the Democrats wanted to validate Plato's reservations about democracy.
It was a sad dressing to an otherwise unexpectedly good SUA. It's a shame that partisan sensibilities overcame commonsense.
To be fair, there were a couple of notable exceptions to this criticism, chief among them being Senator Joe Manchin of West Virginia, about whom it's been rumored he's going to switch parties.
And this is without even commenting on the woeful Democratic response to the SUA. That was nothing more than a rotten cherry on top of the squalid sundae the Democrats crafted.
Hopefully, Mr. Trump will follow through on his SUA. There are lofty goals within that speech. I'm not sure he's going to be able to accomplish all that is confidence believes he can. I hope I'm wrong.
But I know I'm not wrong about the Democrats.
(c) 2017 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Ordinarily, I don't pay any attention to the State of the Union Address (or SUA). It's nothing more than political theater for me. Sure, we want to hear the right things, and typically, the SUA is designed to do just that. But it's nothing more than grandstanding by the POTUS and the members of Congress. I suppose that it instills the necessary backbone in citizens and puts some hesitation in our enemies' hearts.
Everyone wanted to see whether President Trump would revert to his old campaign self or show a more presidential side. There are, of course, differences of opinion on how Mr. Trump was perceived, but generally the reports are favorable. Within the MSM, there were detractors, but there were even some who, by any measure, are his foes who accorded him favorable marks.
Personally, I thought he was very presidential in his SUA. He didn't revert to those verbal ticks where he repeated phrases, editorialized his own words and other things that were evident on the campaign trail. If I have a criticism of his speech, it was that he spent far too much time looking to his left at the Republicans and not nearly enough time glowering at the Democrats to his right, who deserved to be talked to directly. His cadence was measured, his verbiage crafted for the common man and his demeanor anything but haughty. He showed he can be presidential when he wants to be.
I'm not a fan of all the standing ovations Congress gives our POTUS, whoever it may be. Applause is fine, but do they all really need to stand so much?
There was one thing, however, that irked me to no end. I understand partisan politics, and I understand the phrase loyal opposition. There's almost an obligation to oppose a member of the other party, I suppose, but I lose track of the argument when the beneficiaries of the discussion, whether it be the country or the citizens, are at issue.
The Democrats acted for all intents and purposes like spoiled teenagers who had been grounded and not allowed to use their electronic devices for a week. I've never seen such unnecessarily petulant behavior in the Congress. It's one thing to be opposed; it's quite another to display one's disapproval like a child.
The white clothing, the thumbs down, the sour faces while Mr. Trump spoke. Looking at one's PDA, not shaking his hand when he entered the chamber, refusing to applaud even those segments of his speech that agreed in principle with their own -- how childish! And then leaving the minute his speech ended like fans of a team that was just destroyed in an athletic contest. Never have I seen such puerile behavior from a political party.
Disagreement is fine. It's even encouraged when it's genuine. But this manufactured disapproval and its infantile manifestations were ridiculous. It's almost as if the Democrats wanted to validate Plato's reservations about democracy.
It was a sad dressing to an otherwise unexpectedly good SUA. It's a shame that partisan sensibilities overcame commonsense.
To be fair, there were a couple of notable exceptions to this criticism, chief among them being Senator Joe Manchin of West Virginia, about whom it's been rumored he's going to switch parties.
And this is without even commenting on the woeful Democratic response to the SUA. That was nothing more than a rotten cherry on top of the squalid sundae the Democrats crafted.
Hopefully, Mr. Trump will follow through on his SUA. There are lofty goals within that speech. I'm not sure he's going to be able to accomplish all that is confidence believes he can. I hope I'm wrong.
But I know I'm not wrong about the Democrats.
(c) 2017 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Wednesday, January 18, 2017
Hollywood and the Inauguration
It's almost here. January 20, 2017, is the date on which eight years of mediocrity ends and a new administration takes over the country. Glory, glory Hallelujah.
Of course, that perspective is in the distinct minority, if one listens to the proclamations coming out of Hollywood. To hear them tell it, the world is ending on January 20. That's right, the Mayans had it all wrong: When Donald Trump takes the oath of office, the world is coming to an end.
Anxious to prevent the world from ending, Hollywood is mobilizing because, as we all know, Hollywood is so adept at making the right choices come to life. It's never wrong, it's beyond reproach. Because people who play make believe for a living are more qualified than the rest of us to determine what's best for us, what's best for the country and what's best for the world.
As we near January 20, the protests and outcries are ramping up. Meryl Streep used the Golden Globes as a platform to audition for the remake of Joan of Arc (whenever that's made). A group of concernedcitizens actors recited or sang lines to Gloria Gaynor's I Will Survive as they emoted for the cameras. Luminaries such as Rosie O'Donnell and Michael Moore are trying to stop the inauguration. It's all so worrisome that production in Hollywood must have come to a halt considering how many ad hoc PSA's these folks are making.
A week ago Kerry Washington took this hysteria to a different level, averring that I was in the Obama administration and that less than a quarter of the country voted for the President elect. I had to reread the article a couple of times to make sure I'd read it correctly. First of all, I wasn't aware that she was ever in the Obama administration. I know her leanings and her activism on his behalf, but I was unaware that she gave up making a dopey show and became a politician in real life. I checked her Wiki page but couldn't come up with anything other than her participation on a couple of program's boards. An online search also proved fruitless for proof that the self-important Ms. Washington was in fact in the Obama administration.
More troubling, from a Common Core perspective, is her assertion that Mr. Trump received less than a quarter of the electorate's vote. I suppose that's true in a vacuum, but the unspoken assertion is that his opponent, Cankles, received more than a quarter. And although that may be true, mathematically, she barely received more of the popular vote -- barely over a quarter of the electorate -- with nearly three quarters of the country choosing not to vote for her. This implied landslide in favor of Cankles just won't wash; moreover, it ignores the Electoral College entirely. Smoke and mirrors, people, make believe. That's what these people do.
So as the gnashing of teeth, rending of garments and tearing out of hair builds toward its expected apogee this Friday, remember that the people leading this see themselves as heirs of the Lauren Bacalls, the Charlton Hestons, the Humphrey Bogarts and other actors who defied a real demon, Joe McCarthy. They think that just because they inhabit Hollywood, they are imbued with knowledge the rest of us can't possess. Their views are the correct ones; the views of us who support the PEOTUS (I love that acronym!) must either rise up and sing La Marseillaise at a barricade or sit in our homes with the doors and windows shut, truly deplorable.
Let them have their tragedy. Let them have their agony.
I'll pop more popcorn and put my feet up.
This will be the first inauguration I'll actually watch.
(c) 2017 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Of course, that perspective is in the distinct minority, if one listens to the proclamations coming out of Hollywood. To hear them tell it, the world is ending on January 20. That's right, the Mayans had it all wrong: When Donald Trump takes the oath of office, the world is coming to an end.
Anxious to prevent the world from ending, Hollywood is mobilizing because, as we all know, Hollywood is so adept at making the right choices come to life. It's never wrong, it's beyond reproach. Because people who play make believe for a living are more qualified than the rest of us to determine what's best for us, what's best for the country and what's best for the world.
As we near January 20, the protests and outcries are ramping up. Meryl Streep used the Golden Globes as a platform to audition for the remake of Joan of Arc (whenever that's made). A group of concerned
A week ago Kerry Washington took this hysteria to a different level, averring that I was in the Obama administration and that less than a quarter of the country voted for the President elect. I had to reread the article a couple of times to make sure I'd read it correctly. First of all, I wasn't aware that she was ever in the Obama administration. I know her leanings and her activism on his behalf, but I was unaware that she gave up making a dopey show and became a politician in real life. I checked her Wiki page but couldn't come up with anything other than her participation on a couple of program's boards. An online search also proved fruitless for proof that the self-important Ms. Washington was in fact in the Obama administration.
More troubling, from a Common Core perspective, is her assertion that Mr. Trump received less than a quarter of the electorate's vote. I suppose that's true in a vacuum, but the unspoken assertion is that his opponent, Cankles, received more than a quarter. And although that may be true, mathematically, she barely received more of the popular vote -- barely over a quarter of the electorate -- with nearly three quarters of the country choosing not to vote for her. This implied landslide in favor of Cankles just won't wash; moreover, it ignores the Electoral College entirely. Smoke and mirrors, people, make believe. That's what these people do.
So as the gnashing of teeth, rending of garments and tearing out of hair builds toward its expected apogee this Friday, remember that the people leading this see themselves as heirs of the Lauren Bacalls, the Charlton Hestons, the Humphrey Bogarts and other actors who defied a real demon, Joe McCarthy. They think that just because they inhabit Hollywood, they are imbued with knowledge the rest of us can't possess. Their views are the correct ones; the views of us who support the PEOTUS (I love that acronym!) must either rise up and sing La Marseillaise at a barricade or sit in our homes with the doors and windows shut, truly deplorable.
Let them have their tragedy. Let them have their agony.
I'll pop more popcorn and put my feet up.
This will be the first inauguration I'll actually watch.
(c) 2017 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Monday, January 16, 2017
Hate Crimes Revisited
I've touched on this topic before, but we've reached a new level of absurdity. Last week, four thugs in Chicago kidnapped and tortured a developmentally challenged young man and broadcast their crime on Facebook. Leaving aside the stupidity of what they did by broadcasting it live on the internet, the crime is about as heinous as it gets: They beat and cut the man up, using a box cutter to scalp him, in a way, and broadcast their misdeeds live on the internet. Certainly, by any measure, these four miscreants committed crimes.
But the hang-up centers on whether the four should also be charged with a hate crime. By virtue of the races involved -- the four criminals are black, the victim white -- there isn't enough to go on. Yet in the video -- no one ever claimed these were criminal masterminds -- the criminals can be heard yelling, among other things, Fuck white people! Given that the victim is white and the criminals black, that sure seems like enough with which to charge them with a hate crime.
Yet, the dithering began almost immediately. The Chicago Police Department spokesman, when asked whether the four would be charged with hate crimes, equivocated. Worse yet, however, was the reaction of the reliably tolerant -- when whites or police are the victims -- MSM, who bent over backwards in some quarters to explain why this crime wasn't inspired by racial hatred.
Foremost among the naysayers was Don Lemon of CNN, who didn't think what these four criminals did was evil. No, he insisted, this wasn't evil. It was, he averred, the product of bad home training.
Yes, you read that right.
Bad home training.
Almost equally as obtuse was Symone Sanders, late of the failed Bernie Sanders presidential campaign and a CNN contributor. Apparently, learning how to deflect reality into theory is a class taught at CNN, because Ms. Sanders used twisted logic to declare: We can’t callously call things hate crime,” Sanders said. “Is this hate for Donald Trump or pure hate of white people? That matters.”
That's right, people, just because someone says Fuck white people doesn't mean there's hatred of white people involved.
Of course, Ms. Sanders left herself wiggle room by stating that it has to be pure hate of white people, whatever that means (wouldn't it be impure?). No, this could be tied to hatred of Donald Trump, and using this very convoluted logic, the four would be exempted from hate crime charges if they can tie their crimes to hatred of Donald Trump and not hatred of white people in general.
Isn't this getting just a little bit silly?
But more importantly, when is it all right to charge a minority with a hate crime? Would it have made any difference were the victim a fellow minority, say a Latino, and the criminals shouted Fuck Latinos? Is there ever a scenario in which minorities -- blacks, specifically -- can be charged with hate crimes, or are they exempt somehow?
What certain people fail to realize is that if they want to be considered equals in society -- which, frankly, they are already -- they have to be equal not only with the good things but also with the bad things. They can't pick and choose equality. For whatever reason, they seem to want only the good things equality brings. When things like this case occur, they must be held to the same standard as their white brethren. The crime was a shameful and hideous example of man's inhumanity to man.
The attempts by these wannabe sociologists and criminologists are shameful and hideous examples of mans stupidity and idiocy toward their fellow man.
(c) 2017 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
But the hang-up centers on whether the four should also be charged with a hate crime. By virtue of the races involved -- the four criminals are black, the victim white -- there isn't enough to go on. Yet in the video -- no one ever claimed these were criminal masterminds -- the criminals can be heard yelling, among other things, Fuck white people! Given that the victim is white and the criminals black, that sure seems like enough with which to charge them with a hate crime.
Yet, the dithering began almost immediately. The Chicago Police Department spokesman, when asked whether the four would be charged with hate crimes, equivocated. Worse yet, however, was the reaction of the reliably tolerant -- when whites or police are the victims -- MSM, who bent over backwards in some quarters to explain why this crime wasn't inspired by racial hatred.
Foremost among the naysayers was Don Lemon of CNN, who didn't think what these four criminals did was evil. No, he insisted, this wasn't evil. It was, he averred, the product of bad home training.
Yes, you read that right.
Bad home training.
Almost equally as obtuse was Symone Sanders, late of the failed Bernie Sanders presidential campaign and a CNN contributor. Apparently, learning how to deflect reality into theory is a class taught at CNN, because Ms. Sanders used twisted logic to declare: We can’t callously call things hate crime,” Sanders said. “Is this hate for Donald Trump or pure hate of white people? That matters.”
That's right, people, just because someone says Fuck white people doesn't mean there's hatred of white people involved.
Of course, Ms. Sanders left herself wiggle room by stating that it has to be pure hate of white people, whatever that means (wouldn't it be impure?). No, this could be tied to hatred of Donald Trump, and using this very convoluted logic, the four would be exempted from hate crime charges if they can tie their crimes to hatred of Donald Trump and not hatred of white people in general.
Isn't this getting just a little bit silly?
But more importantly, when is it all right to charge a minority with a hate crime? Would it have made any difference were the victim a fellow minority, say a Latino, and the criminals shouted Fuck Latinos? Is there ever a scenario in which minorities -- blacks, specifically -- can be charged with hate crimes, or are they exempt somehow?
What certain people fail to realize is that if they want to be considered equals in society -- which, frankly, they are already -- they have to be equal not only with the good things but also with the bad things. They can't pick and choose equality. For whatever reason, they seem to want only the good things equality brings. When things like this case occur, they must be held to the same standard as their white brethren. The crime was a shameful and hideous example of man's inhumanity to man.
The attempts by these wannabe sociologists and criminologists are shameful and hideous examples of mans stupidity and idiocy toward their fellow man.
(c) 2017 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Thursday, December 29, 2016
Jews and the Democratic Party
Sonny and Cher. Paulina Porizkova and Ric Ocasek. Either President Bush and Slick Willy.
There are in the universe imponderable pairings that, in my mind at least, are irreconcilable. In love, the heart wants what the heart wants. Politics makes strange bedfellows.
But Jews and the Democratic Party? Can someone explain this to me? Please.
The recent travesty of the United States abstaining instead of vetoing the United Nations Security Council vote condemning Israel's settlements in disputed territories and the follow-up speech by our feckless Secretary of State John Kerry immediately struck a chord with me. Given the longstanding relationship between the United States and Israel, it would have been expected that the United States would veto the resolution, Resolution 242. Instead, the United States abstained, which in normal-speak merely means that we stuck our heads in the sand and stabbed an ally in the back.
Kerry's speech was an insult. For a man who's more Tin Man/Cowardly Lion/Scarecrow than stalwart politician, it was his typically underwhelming performance delivered in his usual stentorian tone. But it underscored the true intent behind the administration's abstention.
All that aside, what bewilders me is the response of the Jewish bloc -- unfair, I know, but still -- to this news. Had this been Ireland that was thrown under the bus, there'd be such an outcry. Were South Africa to have been betrayed, there'd be riots. But Israel? Betrayed by the Democratic Party that is supported, largely, by the Jewish bloc?
Whimpers.
Sure, Alan Dershowitz has chimed in; when doesn't he pipe up? But where are the Harvey Weinsteins, the Barbara Boxers, the Michael Bloombergs? Where is the outrage, the cries of Sellout!, the demand for an investigation?
It's nothing but crickets.
I spoke with a good friend of mine, a longtime supporter of the Democratic Party and a Jewess. She told me that as far as she was concerned, Israel wasn't that important to her although, ironically, it was vitally important to her grandmother, who would always ask if something being done was good for Israel. For my friend, there are more pressing, local issues -- drug enforcement, education, war on poverty -- that hit closer to home. I can't disagree -- these are very important issues that affect daily life more readily. But this is the State of Israel, the home that for so many years Jews fought and died, born finally in 1948, that's at issue.
Another thing my friend said struck me: She said that for many Jews, Israel is across the ocean -- in other words, beyond their immediate concern -- and therefore low on the list of priorities. My retort was that the concentration camps were across the ocean too; should they have been low on the list of priorities?
Along with this is the idea long flouted by Jews relative to the atrocities of World War II: Never again. How exactly is that maxim factored into this equation? Are we to allow the Democrats to sell out the State of Israel and its Jewish citizens while at the same time pointing at the Iranians, the Palestinians, the Saudis and the rest of the Arab world and tell them not to touch Israel? And why support a party that would destroy the Jewish homeland? It is inconceivable to me that a party that would offer up the homeland of a voting bloc could continue to rely its political support. Jews in this country are either selfish and only care about their day to day needs or they give lip service to the issue of an independent and sovereign Israel. If I were a Jew, I'd be livid, and I wouldn't be voting for the Democrats any time soon. That doesn't mean I'd be voting Republican necessarily, but I sure wouldn't be voting for the party that's willing to sell my homeland down the river.
I'm not a Jew. Perhaps I've overstepped. But I just don't understand any of this.
(c) 2016 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
There are in the universe imponderable pairings that, in my mind at least, are irreconcilable. In love, the heart wants what the heart wants. Politics makes strange bedfellows.
But Jews and the Democratic Party? Can someone explain this to me? Please.
The recent travesty of the United States abstaining instead of vetoing the United Nations Security Council vote condemning Israel's settlements in disputed territories and the follow-up speech by our feckless Secretary of State John Kerry immediately struck a chord with me. Given the longstanding relationship between the United States and Israel, it would have been expected that the United States would veto the resolution, Resolution 242. Instead, the United States abstained, which in normal-speak merely means that we stuck our heads in the sand and stabbed an ally in the back.
Kerry's speech was an insult. For a man who's more Tin Man/Cowardly Lion/Scarecrow than stalwart politician, it was his typically underwhelming performance delivered in his usual stentorian tone. But it underscored the true intent behind the administration's abstention.
All that aside, what bewilders me is the response of the Jewish bloc -- unfair, I know, but still -- to this news. Had this been Ireland that was thrown under the bus, there'd be such an outcry. Were South Africa to have been betrayed, there'd be riots. But Israel? Betrayed by the Democratic Party that is supported, largely, by the Jewish bloc?
Whimpers.
Sure, Alan Dershowitz has chimed in; when doesn't he pipe up? But where are the Harvey Weinsteins, the Barbara Boxers, the Michael Bloombergs? Where is the outrage, the cries of Sellout!, the demand for an investigation?
It's nothing but crickets.
I spoke with a good friend of mine, a longtime supporter of the Democratic Party and a Jewess. She told me that as far as she was concerned, Israel wasn't that important to her although, ironically, it was vitally important to her grandmother, who would always ask if something being done was good for Israel. For my friend, there are more pressing, local issues -- drug enforcement, education, war on poverty -- that hit closer to home. I can't disagree -- these are very important issues that affect daily life more readily. But this is the State of Israel, the home that for so many years Jews fought and died, born finally in 1948, that's at issue.
Another thing my friend said struck me: She said that for many Jews, Israel is across the ocean -- in other words, beyond their immediate concern -- and therefore low on the list of priorities. My retort was that the concentration camps were across the ocean too; should they have been low on the list of priorities?
Along with this is the idea long flouted by Jews relative to the atrocities of World War II: Never again. How exactly is that maxim factored into this equation? Are we to allow the Democrats to sell out the State of Israel and its Jewish citizens while at the same time pointing at the Iranians, the Palestinians, the Saudis and the rest of the Arab world and tell them not to touch Israel? And why support a party that would destroy the Jewish homeland? It is inconceivable to me that a party that would offer up the homeland of a voting bloc could continue to rely its political support. Jews in this country are either selfish and only care about their day to day needs or they give lip service to the issue of an independent and sovereign Israel. If I were a Jew, I'd be livid, and I wouldn't be voting for the Democrats any time soon. That doesn't mean I'd be voting Republican necessarily, but I sure wouldn't be voting for the party that's willing to sell my homeland down the river.
I'm not a Jew. Perhaps I've overstepped. But I just don't understand any of this.
(c) 2016 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
Friday, December 23, 2016
Puppy Update
Come January 4, it will be three months since we lost Sherman. His loss is still being felt on many levels, since he was such a good dog. But life goes on.
For as badly as I took his passing, Karen and Custer suffered more. They both suffered in silence, at least around me, but Custer moped. I mean, the dog was listless at best, morose at worst. He'd play for a time, but then he'd lie down with his head on the floor and not move. It was getting bad.
Karen and I had, eerily, been discussing getting a dog in the event of Sherman's death around the time that he passed. We both knew we had limited time with him, although we thought we had at least a year more. So in a sense we were prepared for it, at least in the sense that we'd discussed it. Our talks did nothing to lessen the impact of his passing.
About a month after Sherman's passing we began exploring options to replace him. We checked in with various rescue outfits, but either we were barred (who knew there was territoriality in dog rescue?), or the rescues all had severe health issues (not uncommon in bulldogs) or they were older than we wanted. Having just lost a dog, and with Custer getting on in years himself, we weren't steeled to losing another dog so soon.
Through her myriad connections in the bulldog world, we were able to locate a person willing to let go of a former show dog that had already been bred and that would be available at the beginning of December. The price was right, and after some fits and starts that only life can cause, we picked up the little girl, named Margo, the second weekend in December. We brought Custer along so we could see how he interacted with her, just to be sure, and since there were no apparent problems, we brought Margo home with us (in a snowstorm, but it wasn't too bad).
We quickly learned that Margo had never been socialized, nor had she ever been out of her own house except to be at shows or go to the vet. Upon arriving at her new home, Margo ran to the end of the dark hallway and sat looking out at us. If either of us approached her, she'd zip buy on the side and run to the kitchen, where she'd look out from behind the kitchen table. It would only be after much coaxing that she'd come into the living room and lie in the bed we'd lain down for her. Otherwise, she'd race to get behind the coffee table and hide there.
Getting her to eat was nearly impossible. I'm not sure she ate much the first three days, although in truth, she could stand to lose a couple of pounds. Karen was finally able to get her to eat a piece of raw meat and a couple of pieces of raw chicken. We were then told that if we put her in a crate with her bowl of food, she'd eat, and this turned out to be true. We're still working on changing that so we can feed her at the same time as Cus, but at least she's eating now.
Taking her out to potty was an experience in and of itself. First of all, to encourage her to go out, she first had to be lassoed with the lead. Then she had to be made aware that opening the door with her standing immediately behind it wasn't effective. Then she had to be made comfortable going down the ramp. Then she had to be cajoled to go outside (admittedly, it is cold out there). Then she had to find the proper spot around the huge conifer that's the unofficial toilet of Bulldog Nation. More often than not, it turns into a game of ring-around-the-rosey, with her scampering playfully if unhelpfully from one side of the tree to the other, without me being able to verify that she actually did anything. Then she'd wander around aimlessly in front of the tree, unsure of what her next move was to be.
But that was just the first few days. Now she helpfully stays back from the door, ambles down the ramp, bravely goes outside, runs to the tree, darts from one side to the next but always stays where she can be seen as she does her business and then happily comes to me jumping and pawing me for approval, which I give her, effusively.
One constant that has happened from Day One in the bathroom routine was the sight of Margo pushing Custer out of the way to get through the doors back into the house. Whereas it as always Custer bustering Sherman out of the way, now the little one is nudging Custer out of the way none too gracefully. He seems unconcernedly confused by the happening, but it's interesting to watch.
The other day Karen wrote me from work asking if I liked the name Margo. I don't. What's more, I'm so tired of using it to prod her to eat, come here, go out the door, do her business, etc., that I've come to dislike it even more. We bandied about a number of names -- only one of which would have kept with the Civil War theme -- and we finally decided on Maisie. It's a pretty name for a pet that's turning out to have quite the personality. And I don't mind hearing it as often as I heard Margo which, thankfully, isn't nearly as much as it used to be. So now Margo is Maisie. She seems to like the name herself.
We are now back to a starting five, Karen, me, Custer, Maisie and Bupkes, who seems particularly unmoved by the new arrival. In fact, for as dyspeptic as he can be with new people or things, he has been surprisingly calm with Maisie's introduction to the family. We're still working out the kinks. Every once in awhile Maisie reverts to Margo and gets a little neurotic. Thankfully, the other two just take it in stride, even if Karen I don't.
We'll always miss Sherman. Maisie, though, has some of the same traits as he did: Sweet, gentle, playful. She also has his coloring and her face reminds us of him.
Welcome, then, to our family Maisie.
(c) 2016 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
For as badly as I took his passing, Karen and Custer suffered more. They both suffered in silence, at least around me, but Custer moped. I mean, the dog was listless at best, morose at worst. He'd play for a time, but then he'd lie down with his head on the floor and not move. It was getting bad.
Karen and I had, eerily, been discussing getting a dog in the event of Sherman's death around the time that he passed. We both knew we had limited time with him, although we thought we had at least a year more. So in a sense we were prepared for it, at least in the sense that we'd discussed it. Our talks did nothing to lessen the impact of his passing.
About a month after Sherman's passing we began exploring options to replace him. We checked in with various rescue outfits, but either we were barred (who knew there was territoriality in dog rescue?), or the rescues all had severe health issues (not uncommon in bulldogs) or they were older than we wanted. Having just lost a dog, and with Custer getting on in years himself, we weren't steeled to losing another dog so soon.
Through her myriad connections in the bulldog world, we were able to locate a person willing to let go of a former show dog that had already been bred and that would be available at the beginning of December. The price was right, and after some fits and starts that only life can cause, we picked up the little girl, named Margo, the second weekend in December. We brought Custer along so we could see how he interacted with her, just to be sure, and since there were no apparent problems, we brought Margo home with us (in a snowstorm, but it wasn't too bad).
We quickly learned that Margo had never been socialized, nor had she ever been out of her own house except to be at shows or go to the vet. Upon arriving at her new home, Margo ran to the end of the dark hallway and sat looking out at us. If either of us approached her, she'd zip buy on the side and run to the kitchen, where she'd look out from behind the kitchen table. It would only be after much coaxing that she'd come into the living room and lie in the bed we'd lain down for her. Otherwise, she'd race to get behind the coffee table and hide there.
Getting her to eat was nearly impossible. I'm not sure she ate much the first three days, although in truth, she could stand to lose a couple of pounds. Karen was finally able to get her to eat a piece of raw meat and a couple of pieces of raw chicken. We were then told that if we put her in a crate with her bowl of food, she'd eat, and this turned out to be true. We're still working on changing that so we can feed her at the same time as Cus, but at least she's eating now.
Taking her out to potty was an experience in and of itself. First of all, to encourage her to go out, she first had to be lassoed with the lead. Then she had to be made aware that opening the door with her standing immediately behind it wasn't effective. Then she had to be made comfortable going down the ramp. Then she had to be cajoled to go outside (admittedly, it is cold out there). Then she had to find the proper spot around the huge conifer that's the unofficial toilet of Bulldog Nation. More often than not, it turns into a game of ring-around-the-rosey, with her scampering playfully if unhelpfully from one side of the tree to the other, without me being able to verify that she actually did anything. Then she'd wander around aimlessly in front of the tree, unsure of what her next move was to be.
But that was just the first few days. Now she helpfully stays back from the door, ambles down the ramp, bravely goes outside, runs to the tree, darts from one side to the next but always stays where she can be seen as she does her business and then happily comes to me jumping and pawing me for approval, which I give her, effusively.
One constant that has happened from Day One in the bathroom routine was the sight of Margo pushing Custer out of the way to get through the doors back into the house. Whereas it as always Custer bustering Sherman out of the way, now the little one is nudging Custer out of the way none too gracefully. He seems unconcernedly confused by the happening, but it's interesting to watch.
The other day Karen wrote me from work asking if I liked the name Margo. I don't. What's more, I'm so tired of using it to prod her to eat, come here, go out the door, do her business, etc., that I've come to dislike it even more. We bandied about a number of names -- only one of which would have kept with the Civil War theme -- and we finally decided on Maisie. It's a pretty name for a pet that's turning out to have quite the personality. And I don't mind hearing it as often as I heard Margo which, thankfully, isn't nearly as much as it used to be. So now Margo is Maisie. She seems to like the name herself.
We are now back to a starting five, Karen, me, Custer, Maisie and Bupkes, who seems particularly unmoved by the new arrival. In fact, for as dyspeptic as he can be with new people or things, he has been surprisingly calm with Maisie's introduction to the family. We're still working out the kinks. Every once in awhile Maisie reverts to Margo and gets a little neurotic. Thankfully, the other two just take it in stride, even if Karen I don't.
We'll always miss Sherman. Maisie, though, has some of the same traits as he did: Sweet, gentle, playful. She also has his coloring and her face reminds us of him.
Welcome, then, to our family Maisie.
(c) 2016 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
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