I Told You So!

  

Over the last few years, I’ve ranted and raved about the folly of Obamacare. From the beginning, I claimed it was being jammed through without enough time to peruse thoroughly the 2700 pages. That was enough to make me skeptical.

And then when you turn around and realize the document is written in such a manner as to be open to interpretation depending upon the mindset of those making the final decisions.

I caught some flak from those who disagreed. Nothing wrong with civil discourse. Some wasn’t quite so civil, but you and I both know that’s the level to which ignorance stoops when it is backed into a corner.

I’m just an average guy trying to make it from day to day, hoping for the best. Neither Democrat nor Republican, I want what is best for my family and our country. And I have always believed that the health bill, as written, is not good for us.

Before you pull out the tar and feathers, I hasten to add there are parts that are super for all of us. You know them, no one will be denied insurance; folks get help on medicines; and many others. There are those who need help, and in all decency, we should help.

No, what I’m talking about is the errors brought about by a fanatical rush to pass the law without proper discourse. Sometimes, maybe we can discuss our president’s true motives for jamming it through Congress, but now, let’s talk about a couple mistakes in the monster bill that could make the ‘affordable’ ‘unaffordable’ or that would permit couples making up to $60,000 eligible for Medicaid.

Yep, I said Medicaid, M-E-D-I-C-A-I-D. You know, that federal insurance designed to aid the less fortunate.

The New York Times, a predominant liberal newspaper, stated “a glitch in the language of Obamacare could make the “affordable” health plan unaffordable for millions of American workers.”

Let’s take a look at the ‘glitch’.

Of course, where Obama is concerned, even a full-fledged disaster is only a ‘glitch’.

But, let’s get serious. Obamacare says insurance provided by an employer is not affordable and thus eligible for subsidies if the employee’s premium is more than 9.5% of the household income.

So far, so good, Right?

Now, here’s how the bill sticks it to the average American.

IRS (and remember, the government hired 16,000 more agents to handle Obamacare), states this 9.5% is based solely on the individual coverage of the employee, not the cost of covering his family. I shouldn’t have to explain to anyone family coverage is considerably more.

For example, a family has income of $40,000. The employee’s premium is $200 a month, $2400 annually, but his family’s premium is another $2,400. That’s $4,800, around 12% of the family income. On the surface, they are eligible for help with premiums.

Now, here is the glitch.

Since the employee’s premium is less than 9.5%, he is not eligible for subsidies, but what about the additional $2,400 for his family? That puts him over the 9.5%. His family should be eligible for subsidy, but he is, according to Obamacare, not eligible for subsidized help on his premiums.

If you remember, last week I wrote about how complicated the bills were written, and now you can see why. The more confusing, the more lawyerish, the less the average Joe Sixpack wants to mess with them.

Hey, and there’s more.

“The Mail Online’, a political watchdog, reported that up to three million people could qualify for Medicaid in 2014 because Obamacare includes a clause that Social Security benefits would no long be counted as income for determining eligibility for the program.

For Medicaid, the law states an eligibility of 133% of poverty level ($22,350.), which comes out right at $29,700 for a family of four in 2011. Say the retired husband and wife have a sum total of 2,500 SS benefits. That’s another $30,000 for a grand total of almost $60,000.

Extreme case? I hope so, but can you imagine the games the welfare cheats will play with this?

In all fairness, The House of Representatives passed a bill to rectify this mistake and sent it on to the Senate where nothing, as far as I can discover, has happened except they’re all on five weeks vacation now.

Doing nothing must be mighty tiring.

In forty-one years of teaching, I worked with thousands of youngsters. I tried to teach them to think for themselves, avoid dogma, and to always think though their decisions.

I wish those folks in Washington had done the same thing.

rconwell@gt.rr.com

http://www.kentconwell.blogspot.com/

 www.goodreads.com/author/show/13557.Kent_Conwell

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www.kentconwell.blogspot.com

Time to Speak Out

I can remember decades back how surprised I was when I discovered how political parties, unlike leopards, have changed their spots over the last couple hundred years. Their political philosophies did an almost 180 degree turn.

At first I puzzled over it, then I realized such is the natural course of any endeavor in which individuals participate for their beliefs and philosophies will affect their decisions involving the venture.

That’s one reason you often hear remarks such as ‘this is not the Democratic (or Republican) party of my grandfather’.

You’ve heard similar comments.

So it is no surprise that over the last three years, the current administration has been changing the philosophical premises of the Democratic party. Some of these changes, however, are so subtle as to have slipped past many of us. While I was aware of some of the obvious changes, others passed by me like the proverbial ship in the night.

What opened my eyes was an article by Steve McCann on The American Thinker, an online political site with conservative views. I repeat, ‘conservative views’, not Republican, not Democrat, but views held by a majority of Americans--the same kind of Americans that stood up for Chick-fil-A.

I, as Mr McCann and just about everyone I know, recognize the upcoming election as one of the most important in the history of our country. I firmly believe if Obama is re-elected, America will change dramatically in that it will no longer be the dominant country in the world.

And what is wrong with being dominant?

We are dominant because of the free enterprise system. Free enterprise and capitalism has made America a world leader. Work you butt off and you succeed.

But if you are one of the ignorant who believe we should lower our own standards of living so those who take advantage of welfare won’t feel slighted or have their poor feelings hurt, then while I wish you no harm, I hope that your car breaks down, or the bus doesn’t run, or a wheel falls off your bicycle when you go to vote in November.

Obama, during his first term, put in place, says Mr. McCann, executive powers that enables him in his second term to fulfill the campaign promise of transforming America, regardless of which political party controls Congress.

During his first term, he has made Congress irrelevant.

Don’t believe me?

Look what Congress has done. Nothing.

Cleverly exercising executive orders, Obama continues making decisions that alters the direction we are going, and Congress sits on its collective thumb.

During his election honeymoon, he was clever enough to pass a wide variety of laws that transferred vast, almost unlimited powers to the executive branch.

If you say, ‘so what?’ then please don’t vote.

You see, the Executive Branch (Obama), the Judicial Branch (Supreme Court) and the Legislative Branch (Congress- ha, ha! What a joke!), by our Constitution have equal power.

He has taken those powers and established them in the Executive Branch

Why do you think the health care plan was 2700 pages long?

A Chicago political move, it was deliberately written in vague terms so that Obama’s bureaucrats appointed to interpret the laws could place just about any interpretation they wanted on them.

No? Then why did House Speaker Nancy Pelosi imploring the House to pass the bill  screech out to pass it ‘so we can read it and see what is in it.”?

In this 2700 pages, the Secretary of Health and Human Services is referenced 2,500 times; he is instructed he ‘shall’ do something 700 times; he ‘may’ take some action on his own discretion 200 times; the law states ‘the Secretary ‘determines’ 139 times.

In essence, Mr. McCall concludes, one person, appointed by the present, will be in charge of the health care of 310 million Americans once Obamacare is fully implemented in 2014.

Look at the way the Secretary of Health and Human Services is ordered to be in charge. He ‘shall’; he ‘will’; he ‘may’; he ‘determines’.

Where, I ask, is there room for our input, for our doctor’s input?

Are we back to the Middle Ages where a landlord ‘shalls’, or ‘wills’ or ‘determines’ what we do?

And if that isn’t enough, the same holds true for the 2,319 pages of the Dodd-Frank Financial Reform Act, which confers almost unlimited power to control financial, banking, and investment sectors; and create new agencies not subject to any control by Congress.

“This overall process,” concludes Mr. McCann, “Was repeated numerous times with other legislation all with the intent of granting unfettered power to the executive branch that is controlled Barack Obama and his radical associates.

It’s time for America to stand up and reclaim the inalienable rights guaranteed us in the First Amendment.

I can’t help thinking of that mournful soliloquy regarding the holocaust.

First they came for the communists,

And I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists,

And I didn’t peak out because I wasn’t a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews,

And I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a Jew.

Then they came for me

And there was no one left to speak out for me.

Right now, folks, there’s enough of us left to speak out. It’s time.

rconwell@gt.rr.com

http://www.kentconwell.blogspot.com/

 www.goodreads.com/author/show/13557.Kent_Conwell

www.amazon.com/-/e/B001JPCK26

www.kentconwell.blogspot.com

Dog Heaven on the Neches

Dog Heaven on the Neches

I heard about an old East Texas bachelor who had a small cabin on a few acres near the Sabine River. Seems like the last two fingers on his left hand were frozen shut from a boyhood accident. His only companion was an old mongrel hound, Barney.

Well, the old boy was out hunting one day when he got snakebit by a fat cottonmouth. After tending the bite best he could, he headed home, but along the way, he grew dizzy and sat to rest, He closed his eyes. His old hound lay at his feet.

When he opened them, he struck out for home once again, but the trail was different. Puzzled by the changes about him, he paused at a strange road with a fancy gate. Up the road a piece sat an elegant two-story house with music coming from the windows. A well-dressed gent opened the gate. “Welcome. Come in.”

The old bachelor asked where he was. “Things look different. And I feel different.”

“Why, you’re dead. Remember? The cottonmouth?” He smiled. “Don’t believe me. Look at your crippled hand.”

The old gent wiggled his frozen fingers in surprise. He looked up at the man. “Is this heaven?”

“What do you think?”

He reached down and patted his dog. “Come on, Barney. Let’s go in.”

But the well-dressed man stopped him. “No dogs allowed. Only humans.”

“Then I ain’t going in. If heaven ain’t good enough for my old hound, it ain’t good enough for me.” So he struck out along the unfamiliar road.

Around the next bend, he came upon another road that led up to a plain log cabin like his own. A jasper dressed in overalls sat on a fallen log. “See you didn’t take old Luke up on his invite.”

With a snort, the old feller replied. “Not without my hound.” He nodded up the road behind the smiling man. “What’s this place?”

“Why, this is heaven.”

“Heaven?” He eyed the undistinguished road curving through the forest. “What was that place back there with the fancy house and loud music?”

The grin on the younger man’s face grew wider. That was Hell.” He nodded to Barney. “Come on in. And bring Barney with you.”

Now, there was no sign on the second road, but if there had been, I figure it would have read ‘Port Neches,’ for our little city welcomes dogs of all breeds.

A regular dog heaven.

No, I didn’t know it either, and I’ve lived in the area for over forty years. I’m just dumb, I suppose.

Even before we built our house, we constructed a fence for our little dog, Cim. That was what we had been told the city required. Fences for dogs. So we complied.

But I kept seeing loose dogs. I’d call about them, thinking the city would appreciate knowing about the canines. Nothing.

I puzzled over it while I kept seeing more and more of various breeds roaming the neighborhoods--free and unhindered, chasing cats, eating garbage, and leaving ample evidence of their cavorting behind to help fertilize our yards.

Then it hit me, like the proverbial ton of bricks. A dog heaven. The city wanted to keep it a secret so Nederland and Port Arthur wouldn’t take credit for the idea.

But why the idea in the first place?

The only answer was that previous city fathers wanted to lessen the stress on its hard-working citizens so they decided to provide a entertaining service not offered by any other community, a haven for dog owners to give their beloved pets free rein and let the citizenry enjoy the frolicking of the happy animals.

What better way to wake up each morning than to see the different breeds of canines running the street and yards. Just the other day, I saw a Jack Russell terrier gamboling with the rare and elusive Basenji, but that was nowhere as memorable as watching a rare Bearded Collie and a Boston Terrier chase cats up my neighbors’ pecan trees.

Our city fathers have come up with a remarkable idea to help the city grow with this dog heaven business. They ought to change our city sobriquet from ‘Sapphire City of the Neches’ to ‘Dog City of the Neches’ or maybe ‘Canine City of the Neches.’

Visitors will flock in, and we won’t have to bother with a riverfront park project that’ll put Kemah to shame.

At the base of the sign, we should inscribe the words, "Give me your Rottweilers, your Malamutes, your Yorkies, your huddled mongrels yearning to breathe free."

A catchy slogan might be “A Dog in Every Garage!”

Who says our city doesn’t have vision?

rconwell@gt.rr.com

http://www.kentconwell.blogspot.com/

 www.goodreads.com/author/show/13557.Kent_Conwell

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www.kentconwell.blogspot.com

Football Fever

Football fever? I don’t have it. Not like many folks here in Southeast Texas where all levels of football are taken very seriously.

When I came to this area forty years back, I was surprised at the intensity of support football enjoyed. Having come from the Fort Worth area, I thought I knew something about football fandom, but SE Texas’ unbridled and enthusiastic support puts the northern metroplex to shame.

Now, I enjoy football, but as a benign observer rather than participant. Years back, I played, but as in most of my sporting endeavors, I never made first team. I was lucky to make the last team, and in fact, a couple times—well, I won’t go there.

In addition to my PN-G Indians, I watch the Cowboys and the Texans, but if I miss a game, I don’t lose any sleep over it.

My athletic shortcomings in no way reflect my enjoyment of the game so when all of the Penn State news exploded across the country, I was as stunned as the majority of readers, whether football fans or not.

I cannot even begin to imagine the pain and suffering of all involved so consequently, it is difficult to judge the appropriate steps to bring closure to all of the affected.

Last Sunday, I read where Paterno’s statue was taken down. I halfway expected demonstrations or sit-ins if the event took place, but fortunately, the removal was peaceful.

 Now, no one can deny the guy built a great well-known that produced hundreds of solid citizens. But then no one can deny that the guy also made an error in judgment many years ago, an error worsened by years of silence.

While to some, it might seem unfair to say as much, but that mistake will always be remembered instead of the 409 wins he racked up. Correction, 298 wins since 112 were vacated. Instead on the winningest football coach in the NCAA, he is now 12^th on the list; 5^th on the FBS list.

One of the unpleasant facets of life is there are many decent people who have a lifetime of good work destroyed by a careless or thoughtless decision.

Should life be that way? I don’t know. All I can say is each of us has a moral compass that should always point us in the right direction. Most of us at one time or another have experienced difficulty in heeding the direction the needle points, but that’s where faith comes in.

And character.

There is not a person reading this who can honestly say the Penn State/Sandusky cover-up was legitimate. Consequently, as wrenching as the problem is to the Paterno’s family, the victims and their families are given a modicum of satisfaction although the pain will be with them forever.

In addition to vacating wins, Penn State took a four year ban on postseason play, fours of year scholarship reduction, five years probation for football, and a 60 million dollar fine.

Well, at least it wasn’t the death penalty, but it comes as close to it as the actual sanction.

The death penalty was pronounced once in NCAA football history--SMU back in eighties. Sixteen players were paid over $61,000.00 over a period of time, a payout acknowledged and approved by the SMU Board of Governors on which Bill Clements served. Clements if you remember served as Texas Governor from 1979-83 and ’86-‘91.

The fallout from that death penalty led not only to the eventual dissolution of the old Southwest Conference, but the complete destruction of what had once been one of the most storied football programs in the county.

Since then, SMU has lost around seventy-five percent of its games.

SMU deserved the punishment.

They lied to the NCAA about maintaining slush funds to pay players. Bill Clements served as chairman of the SMU board of governors between his terms as Texas Governor. It was during his tenure the payments were approved, so it is obvious the practice was wide spread and well known among the school’s administration.

As horrendous as the Penn State shame might be, I can’t see destroying a program when it was the administration not the players who perpetrated the situation. At SMU, players were involved. I’ve heard nothing of player involvement in the Penn State mess.

I think the NCAA wanted to make a statement to football, but naturally, with what little wisdom the NCAA possesses, it punishes the innocent with the guilty.

Whether you like the fact or not, college football is big business. And it will always be such.

This decision will send financial difficulties surging through the university and community like a tsunami.

I wholeheartedly agree that justice must be done. So do it. Clean house of those involved; prosecute if necessary those who kept quiet so Sandusky could continue to sate his evil lust.

But don’t persecute the players, the university students, the community, or any of the attendant businesses relying on the business of football.

We all have feet of clay. That’s why none of us can walk on water. And that is also why we must always pay attention to that little moral voice in our head. Ignore it that one time too many, and like a building imploding, our life will come tumbling down about our ears.

rconwell@gt.rr.com

http://www.kentconwell.blogspot.com/

 www.goodreads.com/author/show/13557.Kent_Conwell

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Old Dogs, New Tricks

Whoever says old dogs can’t learn new tricks is wrong. They can learn. It might be painful, but they can learn. Here’s how I know.

As much as we enjoy the beach, come the Fourth of July, we usually just hang around the house. Maybe barbeque under the live oak and enjoy a dip in the pool. Done it for the last twenty or so years.

This year was a little different, and upon reflection, I understand a little better the relationship between the expressions ‘growing old’ and ‘wisdom’ and ‘pain’.

You see, our younger daughter and her husband rented a cabin down around Crystal Beach for the week of the Fourth. We couldn’t decide when to go down. Bask in the sun, spend one night, then maybe visit Galveston for lunch the next day.

Now we knew the Fourth would be jammed along the beach, but we’d never been on that holiday, and remembering way back—way, way back to those halcyon days of blistering sun, sweat, cold beer, sand between the toes, we decided to give it a shot.

The day dawned bright and clear, an ideal beach day.

We arrived around ten. Our son-in-law, Jason, was there to meet us. I headed back to the car for the last of our items. As I made my way across the yard, I heard what sounded like ‘Pa, Pa.’ I looked around, but all I saw was Jason’s pickup. Then came the words again. “Pa, Pa, Pa.”

All of a sudden, a grinning face popped over the windowsill and my little granddaughter, Kenli, laughed.

Of course, grandpa had to pick her up and play with her.

Someone suggested walking to the beach. We were only in the second row back. I eyed the hot sand, the blistering sun, and opted for the pickup. Besides, someone had to hold Kenli.

My eyes popped out when we reached the beach. That sucker was jammed. There wasn’t enough room for a greased goose to squirt through.

As far as I could see up and down the beach, gaily colored canopies were sandwiched shoulder-too-shoulder with only enough space between them for one or two vehicles.

Now, Jason is one of those who guys likes to get everything in place. He’d gone down early to set up two ten-foot square canopies side by side, drop off several ice chests as well as lawn chairs and, not forgetting the little ones, a couple of canvas cots for naps.

All that was missing was a TV, and I’ve no doubt he could have probably figured out how to do that if we’d demanded one—or if LSU were playing.

The little ones played in the sand and water. Keegan and Mikey used their little boogie-boards and actually were growing somewhat adept at riding them. From time to time, Mikey or Keegan would run up and ask me to ‘boogie’. I begged off.

I was sitting in the shade sipping on a cool beer. Sand between the toes and sweat somehow had lost their appeal.

The kids’ parents enjoyed the sun, gathering at the water’s edge, laughing and telling stories. I couldn’t help remembering how I once did that, way back when. Way, way back when.

My wife, Gayle, braver than me, sat in the sun at the edge of the canopy with Susan, our older daughter. But I was content, relaxing in a lawn chair in the shade of the tent, nursing ice cold beer to combat the heat.

We had a nice breeze, and couple times, I started to take off my tee shirt and straw hat, but opted not too. Don’t misunderstand. The fact Jason and his friends’ bodies looked sculpted out of granite had nothing to do with my own physique. I was sculpted. When my chest dropped to my waistline, it left the smoothest sculpted little curve.

Gayle and Susan stayed out in the sun.

After a few hours, Kenli, the granddaughter, grew sleepy.

I’ll be honest For some inexplicable reason, I was tired. I’d had enough heat and sand for a while so I volunteered to stay with her a the cabin. Besides, I had a new mystery to read, and the idea of peace and quiet, a good book, an air-conditioned room, and a cold beer was like playing four aces on a pair of threes.

No way could I lose.

Later, we went back to the beach.

We planned on a lazy evening, and a relaxing night watching fireworks.

But age has a way of creeping up on a body.

I never realized how tired you can get sitting in a chair in the shade drinking beer. Now, I have noticed over the years, I can’t take the sun like I did when I was just a younker. I can wear shorts eight months a year, but my legs seldom tan. Oh, they might grow one or two shades darker, but a couple days out of the sun and they’re lily white once again.

So, when I say my wife had just a wee bit too much sun, you know what I mean. Remember what it was like to get a sunburn and can’t stand anything to touch your skin?

That’s how she felt., And I was exhausted. Don’t kid yourself, sitting in the shade an be tiring.

By six o’clock, we were headed back to Port Neches for baggy clothes and a handful of lysine for fever blisters.

We missed the fireworks.

Keegan said they were fantastic and he could even see the Galveston firework display across the channel.

All in all, it was a great day even though Gayle hurt for a couple days. Me, I was still tired the next day. Seems like it always takes me longer to recuperate than last time. You know what I mean?

rconwell@gt.rr.com

http://www.kentconwell.blogspot.com/

 www.goodreads.com/author/show/13557.Kent_Conwell

www.amazon.com/-/e/B001JPCK26

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The Day the Lights Went Out in America

Most of you who are reading this are intelligent enough to realize just how severe the consequences for our country to be so deeply in debt.

Unfortunately, you’re in the minority. Such a small percentage of knowledgeable readers sometimes makes me wonder what’s the use to constantly point out the draconian future that lies ahead of us if we maintain our present course.

But that in itself, is the reason to keep trying. There are dreary times ahead unless you don’t mind paying seventy or eighty percent of your income as taxes.

As you know by now, the Supreme Court ruled that Obamacare will be funded by taxes—taxes—IRS—that sort of thing to the tune of 16,000 plus new IRS hires to make sure we pay up. Got it?

I ran across a little explanation the other day that rips all the flowery rhetoric from the political ‘rose-covered-glasses’ discourses and gives a simple account of just where America is today financially.

You know, and if you don’t you should, that recently, the United States credit rating was downgraded by Standard & Poors from AAA to AA, a first in our history.

And that isn’t the kind of first of which we can brag.

Why did this happen?

Simple. Too much debt.

If you have lousy credit, you pay more to borrow.

And that’s where we’re heading, No, that’s where we are.

Look at the following figures.

U.S. Tax Revenue     $2,170.000,000,000

Federal Budget       $3,820,000,000,000

New Debt             $1,650,000,000,000

National Debt       $14,271,000,000,000

Recent Budget Cuts      $38,500,000,000

If you’re like me, all those zeroes are confusing. The author of this little matrix made it simple by removing eight zeroes from each line to approximate an average family’s budget.

Annual income           $21,700.

Family budget           $38,200.

New credit card debt    $16,500.

Balance on credit cards$142,170.

Total Budget Cuts          $385.

Now that’s sobering, and the figures are constantly changing, and not downward—except maybe budget cuts.

Right now, I can hear folks nodding and saying, “Yep. That blasted Bush. He done it all.”

Well, maybe we need to look at it from a little different perspective.

Before you grunt and figure I’m making excuses for him, figure again. There were events in his administration of which I didn’t approve; there were events that gave him no choice unless some of you think he should have asked the radical Muslins to forgive us for putting heavily populated buildings in front of airplanes they had stolen.

The last quarter of 2006, the country under the Bush administration had a quarterly GDP of 3.2 right on the heels of another 3.2 and 4.4. From 2001 to 2007 (his administration), the Gross Domestic Products grew from 2.45 to 4.4 then dropped to 3.2. This last GDP was with both chambers run by Democrats.

The Bush economic policies set a record straight 52 months of job growth according to Meet the Press.

The Dow closed at 12,600.

In December, 2006, the unemployment rate stood at 4.6%

Then came January, 2007- the day the lights went out in the United States.

That’s when Democrats took over. For the first time since 1995, the Democrats controlled both chambers, although under a Republican president. That was the 110^th Congress.

In January, 2007, Barney Frank, Democrat, took over the House Financial Services Committee and Chris Dodd took over the Senate Banking Committee, Nancy Pelosi the House, Harry Reid the Senate.

Take a look at the political makeup in Washington at that point.

Democrats controlled both chambers; Democrats headed up Financial Services and Senate Banking.

Bush faced a hostile Congress the next three years

Now you tell me.

Whose fault was the economic meltdown that came 15 months later, the lame duck president or the two chambers controlled by a hostile party that opposed Bush until they could get their own president? Remember, Congress controls the budget.

Then there was Fannie and Freddie, and the blame was placed on Bush. But look again at what Congressman Artur Davis, D-Al had to say on September 30, 2008. “Like a lot of my Democratic colleagues I was too slow to appreciate the recklessness of Fannie and Freddie. I defended their efforts to encourage affordable homeownership when in retrospect I should have heeded the concerns raised by their regulator in 2004. Frankly, I wish my Democratic colleagues would admit when it comes to Fannie and Freddie, we were wrong.”

In 2003, Bush urged Congress to tighten regulations on Fannie and Freddie, but Congress did nothing. In fact, Barney Frank suggested the administration had a ‘sky is falling’ wish.

Congress and Obama as a young senator fought against reform of Freddie and Fannie.

That doesn’t surprise me nor would it you if you knew that Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae paid off politicians for their support. John Kerry was given $165,000; Barack Obama $126,000. and Chris Dodd, $120,000.

Congress is responsible for budgets, not the president. Using continuing resolutions, Reid and Pelosi bypassed Bush those last years while waiting for Obama to take over.

From 2008 on, Democrats in both chambers had complete control of budget and the spending.

Whatever Obama inherited from 2007 came from two Democrat chambers. Whatever he’s inherited since came from him.

rconwell@gt.rr.com

http://www.kentconwell.blogspot.com/

 www.goodreads.com/author/show/13557.Kent_Conwell

www.amazon.com/-/e/B001JPCK26

The Great Horned Toad Escapade

A couple weeks we attended the closing session of our two grandsons’ Vacation Bible School at Proctor Street Baptist Church.

It’s a fine church, led by a dedicated minister, supported by committed staff members, sustained by tireless volunteers, and blessed with faithful parishioners.

Now, VBS today isn’t a whole lot different than when I was in vacation bible school back in the Middle Ages. I guess the big difference is in the music today. It’s sort of what I’d call hip-hop. For all I know it might be ‘rip rap’ or ‘slip-slap’, but whatever it is, the little ones really get with it, and the message remains the same. And I have no doubt Jesus is tapping His toes right along with them.

Sitting out there in the sanctuary, I looked on as grade by grade sang their little songs they’d worked so hard on throughout the week.

I have to say, the youngsters put on a good show, and to a single one, they were all well behaved, not like some of us when we were in the spotlight.

And that brings me around to one of the worst, but most deserved spankings I ever got. Vacation bible school was right in the middle of it.

That’s right.

Now Dad was not a church-goer. Mom dutifully pulled my brother and me out of bed every Sunday and out of the mud holes on Wednesday and headed out for church.

Now up in the Texas Panhandle, horned toads abounded.

For those who have no idea what a horned toad (we called they horny toads) looked like, they were miniature creatures from Jurassic Park. Sort of light brown in color, they sported two spiked horns protruding from their heads and several smaller spikes covering their backs.

They were gentle creatures. You could turn them on their backs and rub their tummies and they’d go to sleep. There was rumor that they would spit blood in your eyes and blind you, but I never saw any evidence of it. At the same time, even when I was rubbing their bellies, I was mighty cautious to keep the little guys at arm’s length.

Biggest one I ever laid eyes on was about five or six inches long and four wide. Real old timers. Come spring, tiny horny toads were everywhere, little one-inchers, and those are the ones that caused Jerry and me all the trouble.

No, truth is Jerry and me caused Jerry and me all the trouble. For seventy years I’ve put the blame on those little horny toads, but the truth is, we two mischievous boys were the blame.

Now at our vacation bible school, we sang traditional hymns, never venturing into different types of music. For two eleven-year-old boys, standing before a congregation and singing half-a-dozen hymns gets sort of boring.

Now I had an uncle who smoked Bull Durham cigarettes. He always had empty tobacco bags around, so Jerry and I stashed a dozen or so horny toads in a bag, and he slipped it in his pocket.

We figured on turning them loose among the girls when we kids all gathered for refreshments after the service, but to our horror, the little toads slipped out of the bag while we were singing. Jerry later claimed some of the horns were sticking him through the thin cloth and he was trying to move them around. Whatever the reason, twelve or thirteen little horny toads shot out of his pocket and scattered like a covey of quail right under the feet of the choir.

Best I can recollect, we were in the middle of “Jesus Loves Me” when the screaming broke out. The word ‘loves’ turned into shrieks.

The girls in the choir clambered over the chairs, Two or three of the smaller boys shouted with glee and scrambled to catch a toad, the preacher’s face grew red, the congregation roared, and Mom fainted.

A couple little fellers must have made it into the congregation for half-a dozen or so little old white-haired ladies all around the sanctuary popped to their feet and screamed.

If today’s Child Protective Services had seen my rear and legs after my spanking, they’d probably have tried to arrest Dad, which would have been s dreadful mistake on their part.

Things were a heck of a lot different back then.

Strange isn’t it. There I was in Proctor Street Church, listening to the little ones I cherish so much and at the same time, remembering the past with sweet nostalgia.

The only thing the VBS kids turned loose at Proctor Street was the Spirit of the Lord and a lot of fun.

My younger grandson, Mikey, is shy. The first couple songs, he sort of laid back, but when the third came along, the kids were swinging their arms and bouncing around like rubber balls, the little squirt jumped feet first into the singing and dancing. I was proud as punch of that boy.

Keegan, the older of the two knows no stranger. He stood out in front of all of them, although I don’t think he was supposed to. He swung his arms and danced to all three of the songs.

But the little guy who stole the show looked to be about four or so. He bounced back and forth across the stage in time to the beat of the music, fell to the carpet, twirled on his back, leaped to his feet, did some break dancing, and dropped to the floor again.

If any of us had done that as a kid, all of our moms would have fainted and our fathers would have reached for belts.

Afterward we visited their rooms, saw their work, then drifted over to the gym for ice cream.

And there’s no doubt in my mind the Good Lord was looking down with a big smile on his face just like He did that time when a four-year-old, dressed in a black western outfit, stepped through the back doors of the sanctuary of the Wheeler Methodist Church during offering with two cap pistols in hand and told everyone ‘this is a hold-up’.

But that’s another memory for another time..

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