The Honeymooner

Politically speaking, I have always considered myself a Liberal, mainly because of how Conservatives have tried to defame this ideology. Turns out, I may be a Libertarian. Yep, same ideology as Rand and Ron Paul. At least according to a test I took on facebook. Now you know why I am constantly bringing up Rep. Ron Paul and H R 1866, the proposed amendment to the 1939 Controlled Substances Act. If adopted by Congress, this would stop identifying hemp as marijuana.

Ron Paul is the quintessential Libertarian. His son, Rand Paul, has played on his father’s reputation and landed the gig as the Republican nominee for U. S. Senate, shredding, in the process, the reputation of Mitch McConnell as a king maker. Mitch, if you will recall, bet the farm on Trey Greyson, the refugee from the Democratic Party.

I had some high hopes for Rand Paul. I saw in Rand a potential sponsor in the Senate for H R 1866, and the possibility that common sense would once again reign in this country. Turns out those hopes may have been somewhat misplaced.

Rand Paul and I must be different breeds of Libertarian. I would like to see the people of this country given power, at the expense of both government AND big business. Big business was responsible for defining hemp as marijuana, keeping ordinary Americans from cashing in on this crop.

Rand sees things somewhat differently. Take the dustup about the provision in the 1964 Civil Rights Act that forbids businesses to practice discrimination based on race. Rand is on record as saying that while he is personally opposed to racial discrimination (I believe him), private business should be able to exclude any potential customer, for whatever reason, including the color of one’s skin.

In defending this belief, Rand cites the right of a business to exclude armed customers, even in states that allow you to possess a weapon. Except that in this instance, an armed customer can leave that weapon in the car, and get service. Those excluded because of their race have no such recourse. They can do nothing that will get them into a business that won’t serve, say, African Americans.

Rand goes further than that. He has said that the Obama administration has its “boot heel on the neck of B P.” That little oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico? He says that sometimes these things are “accidents”. He then cites the death of those 29 miners in Montcoal, WV, as “an accident.” Accidents, says Rand, happen.

And sometimes these scenarios aren’t accidents. Sometimes they are the result of a corporation pushing the envelope. A business might, for example, forgo the little things that will ensure that a blowout in an oil well 5000 feet under the sea won’t result in an oil spill the likes of which have never been seen. Or a business might decide that its miners time is better spent producing coal than rock dusting and seeing to the ventilation system.

We can only hope that Rand will seek out his inner Libertarian, and conclude that, when the interests of the individual clash with the interests of big business, the correct side to take would be that of the individual. This should be uppermost in any Libertarian’s heart.

Hemp History Week (May 17-23)

Suppose you could trace your lineage to the very beginning of recorded human history, and further you could show that without you, the progress of humanity would have been considerably slower. 

Take paper, and the written word. From the very first writings of the Chinese, to the Guttenberg Bible, to the Magna Carta, to our own Declaration of Independence and Constitution, ideas and concepts were put down on your paper and preserved for the betterment of all.

Then there is the fabric you made possible that allowed people to adequately clothe themselves. This sturdy cloth also allowed the production of sails, and sails allowed trade and travel over wide distances.

If you haven’t guessed by now, we are talking about hemp. Yes, that oldest of cultivated crops that is now illegal to even grow in the United States, because hemp is equated with marijuana, in spite of the fact that marijuana and hemp cannot be grown together. Hemp won’t give you a buzz, and robs marijuana of that quality.

In the early years of the Republic, it was illegal NOT to grow hemp. Without hemp, this country might not have gotten off the ground. Hemp was even used as currency at one time, before the nation was able to get its banking system up and running.

Later on, when Rudolf Diesel invented the engine that bears his name, diesel fuel wasn’t yet refined from oil. His fuel of choice was hemp oil. In addition, hemp oil can also be used for cooking. It is rich in omega 3 fatty acids, a substance that raises the good cholesterol in your blood.

Better than that, an acre of hemp will produce as much paper as 10 acres of trees And, while trees may take up to twenty years to grow back, hemp is ready again every year.. Hemp paper can also be produced without the chemicals needed to produce paper from trees. By switching to hemp, we could also forestall the unsustainable pace of deforestation currently taking place the world over.

In 1939, hemp was declared persona non grata in the U. S. Then the U. S. entered WW2, and suddenly discovered it needed hemp again. So the feds suddenly not only discontinued enforcement of this ban, it actively encouraged farmers to grow it.

Once the war was over, though, hemp was quickly forgotten, as forgotten as those who once benefited from its production. Native Americans, such as those on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota, where unemployment rates are as high as 85%, or Kentucky farmers who must soon find a replacement crop for tobacco, are just two of these groups.

We can no longer pretend that the ban on hemp makes any sense. We need this crop now more than ever. But we must wake up our elected officials. H R 1866 has languished in the Congress for over five years now. This proposal by retiring Congressman Ron Paul, would reverse 71 years of nonsensical policy and allow American farmers join their counterparts in other countries, and freely produce a very profitable crop without fear of prosecution.

Help celebrate Hemp History week. Join Vote Hemp on line, and work with this group of dedicated individuals to reject the policies of the past seventy-one years.

From my pen to Ricky Nielsen's ears

Around the end of March or the first of April, I got a letter from the Nielsen Rating Co., asking me if my household would like to participate in their attempt to glean info on what the unwashed masses watch on television.

Well, they had me there, in the unwashed part, I mean. So I dutifully followed their instructions by going on line, and filling out some forms. I would have sweated out the waiting process, but they said not to, that they would go over my application, and get back to me ASAP. In the meantime, to thank me for my participation, they included two dollars in the letter, which I spent on a losing lottery ticket.

Days, then a couple of weeks went by, and nothing from the Nielsen people. I had finally decided they wanted someone more highbrow than me to do their bidding. I was at the point of saying "Who wants anything to do with the Nielsen's anyway! I never liked them, anyhow. Well, except for Ricky Nielsen. He could sing pretty good!"

When I had all but given up on being a part of the television industry, I got a phone call. It was from the Nielsen's. A lady with a pleasant-sounding voice asked for me by name, and then inquired if I was still interested in the gig. Sure, I says. Sounds like fun. Great, she says. You'll be keeping a diary, and since you indicate that you have 2 tv's, we'll send you one for each.

If I had had my wits about me, I would have asked for some extras. I know that I have a bad habit of making uncorrectable mistakes that make me look, well, special. But I lose what wits I have when I talk to ladies with pleasant-sounding voices, so I didn't.

The lady with the pleasant-sounding voice told me that we were scheduled to keep a diary for the week beginning on May 6, and that I should receive my diaries a couple of days before then.

She also told me that I should take care to read the instructions in the front, and be sure that I followed them. Heck, I've done some desperate things in my life, but reading, and then following instructions? Never. But I didn't think to tell the lady with the pleasant-sounding voice anything. All I could think of was "I'm talking to a lady with a pleasant-sounding voice." Not only that, but she laughed at my witty remarks. I wonder how much she had to train for that?

I got the diaries on Tuesday, two days before any actual posting in them was to take place. The first thing I noticed was it had a page on which I was to list the channels we get from my cable company. It had room for around 40.

Dang, I thought, because we get 72 channels. What to do? Then I decided that since I had two diaries, I would list the first 40 on one, and the remainder on the second diary. I am quick on my feet when I am faced with a quandary. I would need this trait before my week was up.

The log on which you list the shows you watch have a time line that is divided into 15 minute increments. Each day is separated into four parts, the morning, the afternoon, the evening, and late night. To be sure you don't get lost, there are watermarks on each segment that read, going down the page m o r n i n g s, e v e n i n g s, etc.

Each day has two pages allocated to it, in order, of course, the morning, then the afternoon, etc. Funny thing is, I had no trouble with the first day, Thursday. I got everything where it was supposed to be. I do remember wondering, though, what those letters were that were barely visible on each page.

It was on Sunday morning, three days into the thing, when I discovered that I had been posting my viewing habits on the wrong pages. In going from Thursday evening to Friday morning, I passed up Friday morning, and started posting Fri. mornings log on Friday evenings. I did the same thing when transitioning from Sat. evening to Sun. Morning. Dang!

Again, when faced with impending disaster, quick on the feet. I did the only thing I could do. I went back to those empty pages, and relabled them, in the same manner I did with those I had already posted. I took a jovial attitude. What's the harm, it's all there, just not in the correct order. Like a week that goes, Thurs, Sun., Sat. Fri. Mon. Wed., Tues.

I did vow to watch myself, though. But I did the same thing with Mon. morning's log. It went on Mon. Evenings. So I relabled again, and at least got the last two days right.

I did get one more phone call from the lady with the pleasant-sounding voice. She asked me if I had my diaries, and I said yes, that I had them. She then asked me if I had read the instructions, and I said yes. I didn't tell her "not until I had already messed the thing up". No need in unnecessarily alarming her. She'd find out the truth soon enough.

The whole thing eventually did come to an end. Tues. and Wed. passed quietly enough, and finally the day came to mail the diaries back to the Nielsen's. I did get another dollar when I got the diaries. It got me another losing lottery ticket.

I still harbor hopes another bribe might be on the way, you know, a little sumpin'-sumpin' for my trouble, but considering the mess I made of my diary, I have my doubts. The thing of it is, keeping a diary cramps your surfin' style. Kickin' back with the idiot box was a job, now, even if it only paid three dollars. The only thing I could think of, as I mailed my raw data off was, "I hope they have as much fun trying to decipher my chicken scratches as I had making them!"

Fight on (choke), U of L (Sob!)

I’d less than honest if I said I was overjoyed to hear that Elisha Justice will be wearing red and white next year. Of course I wanted to see him keep the blue and white color scheme he’s been used to for practically all his life. But then, if he’d got a more timely offer from John Calipari, he could have taken his Wildcat tee-shirts with him to college without looking out of place.

Well, what the heck! I’ve got used to seeing Rick Pitino in the Derby City, so I guess… .

Seriously, now that Elisha is going to play for Denny Crum’s successor, I plan on being a much bigger Cardinal fan. He’s a Cardinal because he gave Rick Pitino his word, and he had enough character to keep it. And I don’t need to add that a lot of people would not have been so honorable. So to him, I say “Good luck! May you soon have an NCAA Championship ring to go with those KHSAA titles!”

Not a lot of players from the mountain region have been successful at Division 1 schools. Call it culture shock. Life in Lexington or Louisville ain’t like the smaller towns in Eastern Kentucky. But there are a couple of notable exceptions; John Pelfrey and Richie Farmer.

If Elisha wanted to emulate any player from the 15th Region after he enters college, he could do no worse than to model his behavior after John Pelfrey. Of all the outstanding players from our region who ever made the trip to Lexington, Pelf was the only one who ever stayed.

Yes, there was the great season the Wildcats had during Pelf’s senior year. They won in the SEC Championship game. The team also made the Elite 8 in the NCAA tourney. We will forgo any mention of the team they lost to, or the player who made that winning shot in OT. The thing is, if you went by his last year, you might not be so impressed with Pelf for staying put.

But when you consider what Pelf (and Farmer) put up with to get to that last year, then the feat becomes even more impressive. Pelf’s freshman year was the bluest (not in a happy U. K. way, either) year in the history of this storied program. Hey, this is pretty much all bad memories, but it is also a lifetime ago for Elisha, so, here goes:

Scandal, turmoil, illegal payments, NCAA investigations, losing season, injury, and general unrest among the few U. K. fans who even showed up for the games, and them are the highlights!

I think Pelf would have stayed at U. K., no matter what. He’d have stayed if they had demoted him to waterboy. He had determination. And he had loyalty, to his school, and to his teammates.

Seems to me like I’ve heard those words used to describe someone else lately. In fact, there were even more glowing words thrown in. Yeah, that was Elisha Justice.

You might think it’d be easy to heap praise on Elisha. He’s a winner, after all.
 
But Elisha wasn’t born halfway between third base and home. Like Pelf, he put in some work. And like Pelf, he’ll come out on top, too!

Rationalize, baby, rationalize!

Coal and oil have a good deal in common. Both provide energy derived from fossil fuel; are defensive when reacting to the idea of transitioning the world economy to cleaner, more abundant sources of energy; are adamantly opposed to “cap and trade” legislation, designed to limit greenhouse gas emissions; just as both are quick to deny that global warming is even taking place.

And both have politicians a ‘plenty to defend them and their more controversial practices. They’re controversial, of course, because they’re destructive, but neither industry intends to cease and desist, no matter what is said, or happens.

Here in the coal fields, mountaintop removal (MTR) is all the rage. You know, clear cut the forests, such as they are, blast away the tops of the mountains to expose a seam of coal, take the overburden to surrounding valleys and streams and dump it, then rinse and repeat.

The arguments made for are MTR are many and varied, but the most interesting one is that it creates useful land, for, say, hospitals or factories. Except that in Pike Co., the only factory I know of is Kellogg’s, and it didn’t need MTR for its land. Likewise Pikeville Medical Center, the largest hospital south of Ashland and east of Lexington didn’t need MTR either. In fact, both were built before MTR became as prevalent as it is, today.

The idea would seem to be that if we supply enough flat land, factories will spring up like the vegetation used to on the mined-out hills. And yet, if you will but go west a little, you will find flat land from the Gulf of Mexico to the Canadian border, and all the way west to the Rocky Mountains, most also waiting for factories of some sort.

Oil has its myths that are perpetrated by Members of Congress, Governors, etc. Here we are all encouraged to forget that we are addicted to oil, and instead we are told it is “imported” oil that is the real threat. “Drill, baby, drill” is the catchphrase of the industry. Go off shore, to sensitive wildlife areas in Alaska, because we need the oil, and what’s the worse that can happen, anyway?

How about an ecological nightmare? Turns out the Gulf of Mexico is good for more that the oil that is found under its seabed. There are the fishing and tourism industries, and each of these are threatened with decimation, because British Petroleum (BP) drills for oil the way Massey mines metallurgical coal, with no thought of what to do if disaster should strike.

That disaster has struck, of course. An oil rig exploded, workers were killed, and oil is now being released into the Gulf waters at a rate that will eclipse even that amount spilled by the Exxon Valdez, and BP informs us that it can’t shut off the well. Yes, it had a cut-off valve in place, but the silly thing is stuck open, and is under 5000 feet of water.

The good news is, you don’t hear “Drill, baby, drill!” so often these days. Even politicians like Sen. Mary Landrieu, D.-La., is taking on politicians who defend off-shore drilling, such as Sen. Mary Landrieu, D.-La., did before the latest oil spill.

At least all the news isn’t bad.