Truth About Opinions
Chamblee54 is normally a profanity free blog. However, for this piece, certain cuss words are essential to the free flow of information. In other words IF YOU DON’T LIKE CUSS WORDS, YOU DO NOT NEED TO READ THE TEXT.
Once, when his blog was active, a radio whiner referred to a study, that said that one third of all people were not qualified to have opinions. This was said before a commercial break, without saying why this percentage should be without opinions. Possible reasons would be lack of education, inability to think critically, or a disturbing tendency to disagree with the person doing the study.
Opinion is derived from “1250-1300; Middle English < Old French < Latin opīniōn- (stem of opīniō), derivative of opīnārī to opine.” In other words, the verb for sharing these thoughts is the namesake of the idea. The anagram of opinion is onion pi. The Power Thesaurus has 1,326 synonyms for opinion. Many are notoriously anal, like assumption. Or the sister of suppository, supposition.
“Opinions are like assholes, everybody’s got theirs .” The truth is, opinions have more in common with the waste that comes out of the anal sphincter, than the port of exit. Feces (thesis) is the product of food fed into the digestive system. Opinions are the result of information (and misinformation) fed into the thought system. Doodoo is influenced by the digestive system, like opinions are influenced by the attitudes, and thought patterns, of the individual. They all stink.
“Four Jews, Five opinions” is another crowd pleaser, like “You are entitled to your opinion.” The latter is usually said when you disagree with what you have just heard. When a Court of Law issues a ruling, it is called an opinion. Sometimes, a justice will write a dissenting opinion. When getting a provider to pay for a procedure, you often need to get a second opinion.
Opinions are frequently more valued by the giver than by the receiver . Some opinions are best kept to the owner. You should be wary of someone who feels that his shit does not stink, because he will usually feel the same about his opinions. You don’t have to have an opinion about everything. Many things are beyond or control, or do not interest you. Also, you should be wary of those who try to “fire up” your opinions. Often these people do not have the best of motives.
Opinions are seldom humble, no matter what the owner of the opinion might say. In fact, the act of holding an opinion is often self aggrandizing, and contrary to humility. Opinions are seen as a way of asserting ones individuality. Many people have lives of quiet desperation, full of struggle and turmoil. There are many situations where what the individual thinks is simply useless to the powers that be. In times like this, having opinions can restore a sense of self worth to the individual. I am somebody. I have my opinion. This does not mean that anyone is listening.
This is a repost with pictures from The Library of Congress. U.S.S. Brooklyn, after supper Edward H. Hart was the photographer, working for Detroit Publishing Co. The picture was taken between 1896 and 1899. The pictures are more reliable than the text.
May 10
May 10 is roughly halfway between the Spring Equinox and the Summer Solstice. May 10 is often Mother’s Day. In fact, the first Mother’s Day celebration was May 10, 1908 in Grafton WV. Other noteworthy events have occurred on this day.
1774 – Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette become King and Queen of France.
1924 – J. Edgar Hoover is appointed first Director of the FBI.
1933 – In Germany, Nazis stage massive public book burnings.
1940 – Winston Churchill is appointed Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.
Germany invades France, The Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg.
As with all days, there are notable births and deaths. Births include:
John Wilkes Booth (1838) Fred Astaire (1899) Mac McKinnon (1956) Sid Vicious (1957)
If people are born, then other people have to die. Notable departures include:
Stonewall Jackson (1863) Joan Crawford (1977) John Wayne Gacy (1994)
Pictures are from Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library
#NationalDayofPrayer
Good Morning God. Please give me the slack I need to make it through this life. I have a birthday soon, and am getting older. Please give me less pain, both above and below the neck. Thank you for letting me get this far. Thank you for the gift of sobriety, and the memory of inebrience. The gift of moderation would have been helpful. Help me to overcome body chemistry telling me to be unhappy. If this doesn’t work, help me hide it better.
Please tell Christians to make less noise, joyful or otherwise. Please help me forgive Christians for their good intentions. Please give Christians the gift of humility. Let us know that a real man keeps control of his temper. Please tell those praying today that it is better to listen than to talk.
Please find a happy medium for Atlanta water. Let us have neither drought nor flood. It would help if the developers would move to North Carolina, and the politicians would develop a conscience.
God, please try to get along better with Allah. Please help White people and Black people to show kindness and respect for one another. Please be good to the people who have already lived, and are now deceased. Please understand that I am not in a hurry to join them.
Please help Mr. Biden with the mess this country is in. Please help Israel get along with her neighbors, and live within her borders. Please help the world resolve the carbon dioxide problem.
Thank you for the birds that sing. Thank you for dogs, and dog owners who clean up. Thank you for earth, air, fire, and water. Thank you for people who enjoy this prayer. Please help those who are offended to get over it. Namaste, amen, all my relations, Good Bye.
Today is the #NationalDayofPrayer. This is a repost. Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.
Stacey Does It Again
This is a repost from 2019. In 2022, Stacey Abrams was defeated in her second attempt to be elected Governor. … Stacey Abrams went hardcore bless-her-heart in the New York Times yesterday. The opening line was a doozy. “In the mid-1960s, when my father was a teenager, he was arrested. His crime? Registering black voters in Mississippi.”
This is news, to anyone who has been following Ms. Abrams. Her campaign bio does not mention this incident. Nor does at least one article from Mississippi. Google is little help. The arrest story may turn out to be true. Why it is only turning up six months after the election?
PG asked the readers at GeorgiaPol if they knew anything about an arrest. There was an illuminating response. “Being obsessed with Stacey Abrams, you might have missed some of these other Georgia stories: – Georgia governor postpones Los Angeles trip as film industry protests … ” The pundit listed seven more news items. None of the items concerned an arrest for voter registration.
The New York Times did not fact check the article. Ms. Abrams dropped a few more whoppers into the order, to go with the fries and Pepsi.
“Although “exact match” lacks the explicit racial animus of Jim Crow, its execution nonetheless betrayed its true purpose to disenfranchise voters of color. Georgia’s secretary of state held 53,000 voter registrations hostage under exact match last year, 70 percent of which came from black voters, who made up only around 30 percent of Georgia’s eligible voters.” (Voters are registered by the counties, not the state.)
“We demonstrated the immensity of the problem, yet opponents to voting rights responded with the specious claim that increased turnout was somehow proof that no suppression had occurred.” (No link was provided, to show who made this claim.)
“The state’s top elections official, former Secretary of State Brian Kemp himself — functioning simultaneously as the scorekeeper, referee and contestant in the gubernatorial election — was caught revealing to supporters that he was “concerned” about record absentee ballot requests from voters of color.” (Votes are counted by the counties, not the state.)
“Across the country, voter purges employ an easily manipulated “use it or lose it” rule, under which eligible voters who exercised their First Amendment right to abstain from voting in prior elections can be booted off the rolls.”
The last item was a spectacular show of sophistry. The First Amendment mentions religion, press, speech, assembly, and petitioning the government. Yesterday, logicians at GeorgiaPol and facebook contend that not voting, and keeping your registration, is covered by the right to free speech. If Stacey says so, it must be so. This is what some people like to argue about.
The uncritical adoration of Stacey Abrams by the press is part of the problem. She receives little of the scrutiny that most politicians face. If Ms. Abrams is going to grow as a leader, she needs to be taken seriously. This includes questioning her rhetoric. Don’t expect The New York Times to cast the first stone. The yankee media adores poor widdle Stacey, and her sad tale of having the election stolen through “malfeasance, misfeasance and mismanagement.” Will long suffering Georgia voters continue to feel the magic?
Chamblee54 has written about Stacey Abrams too many times. Pictures for this celebration are from your big government buddies at The Library of Congress.
April 30, 1992
Doug Richards is an Atlanta tv news reporter. He writes a blog, live apartment fire. He was on the scene thirty one years ago. There was a riot downtown. Mr. Richards had a bad night.
PG was working in the Healey building that day. He ran an RMS, or reprographic management service, in an architects office. He had a blueline machine, ran jobs for the customer, and had free time. PG did a lot of exploring, and enjoyed the various events downtown. On April 30, 1992, there was an event he did not enjoy.
The day before, a jury in California issued a verdict. Four policemen were acquitted of wrongdoing in an incident involving Rodney King. The incident had been videotaped, and received widespread attention. The verdict of the jury was not popular. The dissatisfaction spread to Atlanta.
Sometimes, PG thinks he has a guardian angel looking over him. If so, then this thursday afternoon was one of those times. PG went walking out into the gathering storm. He was a block south of the train station at five points, when he saw someone throw a rock into a store front. The sheet metal drapes were rolled down on the outside of the store. PG realized that he was not in a good place, and quickly made his way back to the Healey building.
A group of policeman were lined up in the lobby of the building, wearing flack jackets. One of the police was a white man, who was familiar to workers in the neighborhood. A few weeks before the incident, he had been walking around the neighborhood showing off his newborn baby.
There was very little work done that afternoon in the architect’s office. Someone said not to stand close to the windows, which seemed like a good idea. Fourteen floors below, on Broad Street, the window at Rosa’s Pizza had a brick thrown threw it. There were helicopters hovering over downtown, making an ominous noise.
There was a lot of soul searching about race relations that day. The Olympics were coming to town in four years, and the potential for international disaster was apparent. As it turned out, the disturbance was limited to a few hundred people. It could have been much, much worse. If one percent of the anger in Atlanta had been unleashed that day, instead of .001 percent, the Olympics would have been looking for a new host.
After a while, the people in the office were called into the lobby. The Principal of the firm, the partner in charge of production, walked out to his vehicle with PG. The principal drove an inconspicuous vehicle, which made PG feel a bit better. PG took his pocketknife, opened the blade, and put it in his back pocket. It probably would not have done him much good.
PG usually took the train downtown. As fate would have it, there was a big project at the main office of redo blue on West Peachtree Street. That is where PG’s vehicle was, in anticipation of working overtime that night. The principal drove PG to this building. PG called his mother, to let her know that he was ok. The Atlanta manager of Redo Blue talked to him, to make sure that he was not hurt.
If PG had not gone back downtown the next day, he might not have ever gone back. He was back at the West Peachtree Street office, and was assured that it was safe to ride the train into town. The Macy’s at 180 Peachtree had plywood nailed over the display windows. A gift shop in the Healey building had a sign in the window, “Black owned business”. Friday May 1, 1992, was a quiet day.
Pictures for this repost are from “Special Collections and Archives, G.S.U. Library”.
Judgement Day
Judgement Day (with an e) is the story of Tanner. He is staying with his daughter in New York City, until his body can be shipped back to Corinth GA. JD is the last story in Everything That Rises Must Converge, a book of short stories by Mary Flannery O’Connor.
The modern reader does not appreciate MFO’s racial attitudes. She writes about what Lester Maddox called “little people.” Tanner is described, with some justification, as a “wool-hat red-neck son-of-a-bitch peckerwood old bastard.” Never mind that Tanner shares his Georgia shack with Coleman Parrum, a black man.
Tanner uses a 6 letter word (6LW) to describe Coleman, and people who look like him. 6LW appears 31 times in JD. In 2023, I am strongly encouraged to not see, hear, speak, smell, taste, or feel 6LW, and feel morbid shame if I do. Unfortunately, I wind up reading JD, where 6LW appears 31 times in 7852 words (.39%). After a while, 6LW becomes boring.
JD drags along at first. Many MFO stories take a while to get going. The fun starts when a black man moves into the apartment next door. Tanner decides to make friends with him.
“This time Tanner advanced squarely in his path. “Good morning, Preacher,” he said. It had been his experience that if a Negro tended to be sullen, this title usually cleared up his expression.
The Negro stopped abruptly.
“I seen you move in,” Tanner said. “I ain’t been up here long myself. It ain’t much of a place if you ask me. I reckon you wish you were back in South Alabama.”
The Negro did not take a step or answer. His eyes began to move. They moved from the top of the black hat, down to the collarless blue shirt, neatly buttoned at the neck, down the faded galluses to the gray trousers and the high-top shoes and up again, very slowly, while some unfathomable dead-cold rage seemed to stiffen and shrink him.
“I thought you might know somewhere around here we could find us a pond, Preacher,” Tanner said in a voice growing thinner but still with considerable hope in it.
A seething noise came out of the Negro before he spoke. “I’m not from South Alabama,” he said in a breathless wheezing voice. “I’m from New York City. And I’m not no preacher! I’m an actor.”
Tanner chortled. “It’s a little actor in most preachers, ain’t it?” he said and winked. “I reckon you just preach on the side.”
“I don’t preach!” the Negro cried and rushed past him as if a swarm of bees had suddenly come down on him out of nowhere. He dashed down the stairs and was gone.
Tanner stood here for some time before he went back in the apartment. The rest of the day he sat in his chair and debated whether he would have one more try at making friends with him. Every time he heard a noise on the stairs he went to the door and looked out, but the Negro did not return until late in the afternoon. Tanner was standing in the hall waiting for him when he reached the top of the stairs. “Good evening, preacher,” he said, forgetting that the Negro called himself an actor.
The Negro stopped and gripped the banister rail. A tremor racked him from his head to his crotch. Then he began to come forward slowly. When he was close enough he lunged and grasped Tanner by both shoulders. “I don’t take no crap,” he whispered, “off no wool-hat red-neck son-of-a-bitch peckerwood old bastard like you.” He caught his breath. And then his voice came out in the sound of an exasperation so profound that it rocked on the verge of a laugh. It was high and, piercing and weak, “And I’m not no preacher! I’m not even no Christian. I don’t believe that crap. There ain’t no Jesus and there ain’t no God.”
JD does not have a happy ending. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress.
Confederate Memorial Day








Today is Confederate Memorial Day in Georgia. It is an ancient question…how to honor the soldiers from the side that lost. They were just as valiant as the Union Soldiers. Considering the shortages of the Confederate Armies, the Rebels may have been just a bit braver.
The issue of Federalism is a defining conflict of the American experience. What powers do we give the Federal Government, and what powers do we cede to the States? The Confederacy was the product of this conflict. The Confederate States were a collection of individual states, with separate armies. This is one reason why the war turned out the way it did.
This is not a defense for slavery. The “Peculiar institution” was a moral horror. The after effects of slavery affect us today. Any remembrance of the Confederacy should know that. This does not make the men who fought any less brave.
It is tough to see the War Between the States through the modern eye. It was a different time, before many of the modern conveniences that are now considered necessities. Many say that the United States were divided from the start, and the fact the union lasted as long as it did was remarkable. When a conflict becomes us against them, the “causes” become unimportant.
The War was a horror, with no pain medicine. Little could be done for the wounded. It took the south many, many years to recover. This healing continues today. Remembering the sacrifices made by our ancestors helps. This is a repost. Pictures are from the The Library of Congress.







Democrats Go Wild
This is a repost from 2018. The incident described here is the first time I was aware of Stacey Abrams. Many of the playground bully tactics employed by Democrats are seen here. The most recent example is the shameful antics of the #Tennessee3. … Until Thursday, PG had been in blissful denial of the Georgia Governor’s election. Except, that is, for the clown car antics of the republicans. The Democrats had Stacey Abrams, aka black Stacey, opposing Stacey Evans, aka white Stacey. The Republicans are almost certain to win in November, even with a certified idiot like Casey Cagle.
The happy ignorance was interrupted by facebook on thursday. A FBF posted a link to this article, Statement … on the vulgar hit piece against Anoa Changa. The vhp, posted by the notorious white supremacists at WABE, was titled Atlanta Activist Uses Russian-Backed Media To Spread Message. It seems as though a local activist, Anoa Changa, utilized a Russian owned broadcast outlet to spread her message. This was news to PG, as well as people who never listen to Sputnik.
PG did not see what was so horrible about the WABE piece, and was prepared to ignore it. Then he saw something in the article. “Changa helped lead a protest last year at the progressive Netroots Nation convention drowning out the speech of Stacey Evans, a Democratic candidate for governor in Georgia. Changa and the other protesters chanted “trust black women.” Evans is white, while her Democratic primary opponent Stacey Abrams is black. Changa supports Abrams.” A bit of research turned up a video, Protesters Harass Stacey Evans Candidate Gov. Georgia Aug 12, 2017.
This incident was noted on facebook. “Yup, don’t see what the problem is. Was Evans run out of town? Silenced? Is she still in the race?” “I fully support activists of color disrupting any centrist white person running for office. Stop ignoring the fundamental power dynamic in play because of white supremacist patriarchy.” “Good luck winning the election”
Others are grossed out by this type of behavior. Is this what happens to people running for public office? To be shouted down in public forums, and say “this is what democracy looks like.” Maybe smells like is more appropriate. Maybe we are not mature enough to allow the luxury of free speech. Maybe an election campaign is a time to shout down your opponent … and call those who do not applaud your playground bully tactics a racist.
Stacey Abrams And Stacey Evans had a discussion of the incident. Stacey Evans condemned the protest. Stacey Abrams did not. “I do not believe that you silence those who feel they are voiceless, because the minute we do that we are no better than those who tell people they can’t kneel in protest.”
Anoa Changa is far from voiceless. She is not going to be silenced by waiting until someone else is through speaking. To compare this abusive protest, to pro football players and the national anthem, is ridiculous. Stacy Abrams has no business being Governor of Georgia. Pictures are from Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library
Lewis Grizzard
In the time between 1980 and 1994, if you lived in Atlanta you heard about Lewis Grizzard. Some people loved him. Some did not. He told good old boy stories about growing up in rural Georgia. Many of them were enjoyable. Lewis also made social and political commentaries, which upset a few people. This is a saturday morning repost, with historic pictures from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.
PG had mixed feelings about Lewis. The stories about Kathy Sue Loudermilk, and Catfish, could make your day. His opinions about gays, feminists, and anything non redneck, could get on your nerves. His column for the fishwrapper upset PG at least twice a week.
In 1982, Lewis (he reached the level of celebrity where he was known by his first name only) wrote a column about John Lennon. Lewis did not understand why Mr. Ono was such a big deal. PG cut the column out of the fishwrapper, and put it in a box. Every few years, PG would be looking for something, find that column, and get mad all over again.
The New Georgia Encyclopedia has a page about Lewis, which expresses some of these contradictions. “If Grizzard’s humor revealed the ambivalence amid affluence of the Sunbelt South, it reflected its conservative and increasingly angry politics as well. He was fond of reminding fault-finding Yankee immigrants that “Delta is ready when you are,” and, tired of assaults on the Confederate flag, he suggested sarcastically that white southerners should destroy every relic and reminder of the Civil War (1861-65), swear off molasses and grits, drop all references to the South, and begin instead to refer to their region as the “Lower East.” Grizzard also wore his homophobia and hatred for feminists on his sleeve, and one of the last of his books summed up his reaction to contemporary trends in its title, Haven’t Understood Anything since 1962 and Other Nekkid Truths.
In the end, which came in 1994, when he was only forty-seven, the lonely, insecure, oft-divorced, hard-drinking Grizzard proved to be the archetypal comic who could make everyone laugh but himself. He chronicled this decline and his various heart surgeries in I Took a Lickin’ and Kept on Tickin’, and Now I Believe in Miracles, published just before his final, fatal heart failure.”
As you may have discerned, Lewis McDonald Grizzard Jr. met his maker on March 20, 1994. He was 47. There was a valve in his heart that wasn’t right. The good news is that he stayed out of the army. At the time, Vietnam was the destination for most enlistees. The bad news is that his heart problems got worse and worse, until it finally killed him.
Sixteen years later, PG found a website, Wired For Books. It is a collection of author interviews by Don Swaim, who ran many of them on a CBS radio show called Book Beat. There are two interviews with Lewis Grizzard. One was done to promote My Daddy Was a Pistol and I’m a Son of A Gun. This was the story of Lewis Grizzard Senior, who was another mixed bag.
PG found himself listening to this chat, and wondered what he had been missing. The stories, and one liners, came flowing out, like the Chattahoochee going under I 285. Daddy Grizzard was a soldier, who went to war in Europe and Korea. The second one did something to his mind, and he took to drinking. He was never quite right the rest of his life. His son adored him anyway. When you put yourself in those loafers for a while, you began to taste the ingredients, in that stew we called Lewis Grizzard.
PG still remembers the anger that those columns caused … PG has his own story, and knows when his toes are stepped on. The thing is, after listening to this show, PG has an idea of why Lewis Grizzard wrote the things that he did. Maybe PG and Lewis aren’t all that different after all.
Georgia Democrats
This is a repost from 2021. … Georgia Democrats did not do well in the recent controversy over voting access. The over-the-top rhetoric makes it difficult to believe anything they say. “Jim Crow on steroids” takes crying wolf to a new low. Democrat media enablers lost control cheering them on.
Maybe it started August 12, 2017. Candidates for Governor were speaking. When Stacey Evans spoke, audience members started to chant “trust black women.” One of the other candidates, Stacey Abrams, defended the disruption. “I do not believe that you silence those who feel they are voiceless, because the minute we do that we are no better than those who tell people they can’t kneel in protest.”
What happened next is well known. Miss Abrams won the Democratic primary, and almost won the November election. Her number one campaign issue was voter suppression. When Miss Abrams lost the November election, she claimed that the election was stolen. This claim was uncritically accepted, and repeated ad nauseam.
After the election, a rally was held inside the State Capitol. State law clearly forbids disruptive rallies inside the Capitol. (O.C.G.A. 16-11-34.1 (g)) State Representative Nikema Williams decided that the law did not apply to her, and got arrested. Rep. Williams was praised for this arrest, and elected to the US Congress in 2020.
Republicans legislators proposed a law governing voting access. Democrats went into hysterical disruption mode. A rally inside the Capitol was dispersed, but not before Rep. Park Elizabeth Cannon was physically removed by authorities.
A few weeks later, Rep. Cannon succeeded in getting herself arrested. SB 202 passed, and Governor Brian Kemp decided to sign it immediately. Rep. Cannon got into a confrontation with State Troopers outside the Governor’s office, and got herself arrested. This arrest was over a ceremonial bill signing. Rep. Cannon may be the first legislator in history to get arrested at a bill signing.
What does all this say about the Democrats? They do not seem to be interested in the orderly process of running the state. The Democrats think it is proper to engage in juvenile confrontations. The Democrats do not appear to be capable of governing the state, if they should be elected to power. Pictures for this feature are from The Library of Congress.
SB 202
This is a repost from 2021. … Last week, PG wrote a post about SB 202, the much maligned Georgia law about voting access. The post focused on a shameful stunt, by a Democratic legislator.
There is a personal connection to SB 202. “PG has his story from 2020. He applied for an absentee ballot in the July primary. An unsolicited AB was sent for the next three elections, along with dozens of unsolicited AB applications. SB 202 will prohibit this. How will not sending out unsolicited AB applications suppress the minority vote?”
“The NPR story does not mention AB applications requiring a copy of the voter’s ID. This requirement would impose a logistical burden on the counties, as well as inviting fraudulent ID copies. This requirement, if it is imposed, would be a mistake.”
Send-in-a-copy-of-your-id may have been in an early version of SB 202, and dropped later. This is was in the final bill: “Page 57: In order to verify that the absentee ballot was voted by the elector who requested the ballot, the elector shall print the number of his or her Georgia driver’s license number or identification card … in the space provided on the outer oath envelope.”
When the voter applies for an absentee ballot, they must write down the number of the drivers license/photo id. This can be confusing. PG got a time sheet rejected one time. He put his Social Security number on the sheet, instead of the DL number. However, it is difficult to see how this requirement impacts People of Color more than People Without Color.
Part of the problem is overkill rhetoric. SB 202 is a flawed piece of legislation, and probably will be thrown out by the courts. Unfortunately, Democrats see this as an opportunity to kick up a fuss. They are making the most of the situation. The fawning corporate media goes along.
Biden falsely claims the new Georgia law ‘ends voting hours early’ One exception is the Washington Post, usually a dependable cheerleader for the Democrats. They note that a claim made by the President is simply not true. “The president earns Four Pinocchios.”
This article came out before President Biden encouraged Major League Baseball to move the All Star Game. The game had been scheduled for Truist Park, before the President said that SB 202 was “jim crow on steroids.” MLB agreed, and will take the game elsewhere. In the 2020 elections, Georgia gave her electoral votes to Joe Biden. This is how your President returns the favor. Pictures today are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.
Manley Pointer
Good Country People is a Flannery O’Connor story. Manley Pointer is a Bible salesman in rural Georgia. He calls on the Hopewell family. Manley doesn’t sell any Bibles, but he does get a date with Hulga Hopewell. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress.
“O’Connor portrays a one-legged, unemployed female with a Ph.D. in philosophy, who has nothing to do but stay at home and irritate her mother. When a Bible salesman, Manley Pointer, … arrives at the Hopewell house, Joy, who has changed her name to Hulga, much to the annoyance of her mother, joins her new friend in an excursion to a nearby barn, complete with a romantic hayloft.” source
The first few minutes of the Hulga-Manley date are special. “Smiling, he lifted his hat which was new and wide-brimmed. He had not worn it yesterday and she wondered if he had bought it for the occasion. It was toast-colored with a red and white band around it and was slightly too large for him. He stepped from behind the bush still carrying the black valise. He had on the same suit and the same yellow socks sucked down in his shoes from walking.”
“He crossed the highway and said, “I knew you’d come!” The girl wondered acidly how he had known this. She pointed to the valise and asked, “Why did you bring your Bibles?” He took her elbow, smiling down on her as if he could not stop. “You can never tell when you’ll need the word of God, Hulga,” he said. She had a moment in which she doubted that this was actually happening and then they began to climb the embankment. They went down into the pasture toward the woods. …”
“Wait,” he said. He leaned the other way and pulled the valise toward him and opened it. It had a pale blue spotted lining and there were only two Bibles in it. He took one of these out and opened the cover of it. It was hollow and contained a pocket flask of whiskey, a pack of cards, and a small blue box with printing on it. He laid these out in front of her one at a time in an evenly-spaced row, like one presenting offerings at the shrine of a goddess. He put the blue box in her hand. THIS PRODUCT TO BE USED ONLY FOR THE PREVENTION OF DISEASE, she read, and dropped it. The boy was unscrewing the top of the flask. He stopped and pointed, with a smile, to the deck of cards. It was not an ordinary deck but one with an obscene picture on the back of each card. “Take a swig,” he said, offering her the bottle first. He held it in front of her, but like one mesmerized, she did not move.” …
“Mrs. Hopewell and Mrs. Freeman, who were in the back pasture, digging up onions, saw him emerge a little later from the woods and head across the meadow toward the highway. “Why, that looks like that nice dull young man that tried to sell me a Bible yesterday,” Mrs. Hopewell said, squinting. “He must have been selling them to the Negroes back in there. He was so simple,” she said, “but I guess the world would be better off if we were all that simple.” source (This is the only time Black people are mentioned in “Good Country People.”)
Erik Langkjær is the possible inspiration for Manley Pointer. A Russian-Danish young man, Mr. Langkjær worked as a textbook salesman. “Klaus Rothstein, a literary critic and commentator for the national Danish newspaper Weekendavisen” got Mr. Langkjær to tell his story.
“I searched for a job in publishing, in the hope that I would be hired as an editor. I did get a job, but it was as a sales representative in the South. During these travels, I met a professor at the University of Georgia. She suggested that I pay a visit to a local woman who had had her first book published by Harcourt, Brace & Company, where I was now a sales agent in the education branch. The professor believed that this author would enjoy meeting me because of her affiliation with the publishing firm. Weakened as she was by her disease, lupus, she wasn’t in contact with many people, so it would be nice to receive a visit from outside. A few years back, her father had died from the same disease, but the doctors had told her not to worry. …”
“Flannery and I quickly became friends. I made an effort to plan my sales route in a way that made it possible for me to visit her every two or three weeks. I would arrive in my own car, and then suggest going for a ride in the surrounding countryside. She was always up for it. We talked about our family backgrounds, and she was excited to hear about my mother’s Russian heritage and my father’s career as a consul general … Flannery herself was a devout Catholic, highly conscious of living in the Protestant South. She considered it a great challenge to be surrounded by Protestants, and to belong to a minority. She had a church to go to on Sundays, but she was aware of the growing secularism, which she considered a threat.”
“I was not really in love; I simply enjoyed the company of women during my lonely travels in the South. Although Flannery was both conventional and religious, we eventually became so close that she, while the car was parked, allowed me to kiss her. At that moment, her disease revealed itself in a new way: there was no strength in her lips. I hit her teeth with my kiss, and since then I’ve thought of it as a kiss of death. …
“I visited her twelve to fourteen times, and later we started exchanging letters. As I returned to Denmark to settle down, she wrote that she would like to hear more from me, and her first letter from June 1954 ends with a reference to our drives around Milledgeville: . . . I haven’t seen any dirt roads since you left and I miss you. I think Flannery was hoping for it to be the two of us. Between April 1953 and June 1954, when my visits were frequent, there was indeed enough contact between us for her to envisage something more. Her letters might also contain a certain disappointment in the fact that the contact wasn’t as strong on my part. …”
“When I later read one of Flannery’s short stories, ‘Good Country People,’ I noticed that the main character was a travelling Bible salesman. I didn’t sell bibles, but I used to call my binder with the records of the publishing firm ‘my bible.’ Also, the salesman in the story is named Manley Pointer, which has an obvious erotic connotation.”source
Miss O’Connor wrote Mr. Langkjær many times. 13 June 54 “My mother has just attended a dairy festival in Eatonton. The governor attended and Miss America. All the cows were in rope stalls around the Courthouse and Miss America, very sunburned, my mother said and in a white strapless evening dress (11 A. M.) had to pick her way among them and admire each one while she kept the tail of the dress out of the little piles of manure. She also had to kiss a calf. Universal suffering.” 18 July 54 “Everything here is busy electing the Governor. There are 9 candidates and the ones I have heard over the radio all sound like hound dogs that have learned to declaim. They are all but one running on keep-segregation platforms and everything is geared to the boys who sit in front of the wooden stores and tell you not to run into a street car down there. (On acct. of the rotten borough system their vote is worth three or four of a city vote.”) source
“Flannery first met Erik in April 1953, she was clearly taken with him and relished their time together, especially their drives through Baldwin County in his car. When he decided to break off their friendship and return to Europe a little over a year later, O’Connor, then using a cane, felt betrayed, as revealed in their short-lived correspondence. In early 1955, O’Connor took only four days to write this story; her intense feelings about Langkjær quickly found their outlet.”source
“Unfortunately, while she may have had romantic feelings towards him, they were not reciprocated. This was especially noticeable after he returned to Denmark in 1954. Flannery would write to him, and it would be weeks before she would hear back. … Eventually, she received a letter from him stating that he had met another woman and they were intending to get married. Flannery was devastated. However, instead of wallowing in her grief she threw herself into her art, writing one of her best short stories, “Good Country People.” Shortly after this story came out, Langkjær wrote Flannery and said that he recognized himself in the character of the salesman, Manley Pointer. Flannery responded with the epistolary equivalent of Carly Simon’s You’re So Vain, telling him in essence not to flatter himself so.” source
29 April 56 “I am highly taken with the thought of your seeing yourself as the Bible salesman. Dear boy, remove this delusion from your head at once. And if you think the story is also my spiritual autobiography, remove that one too. As a matter of fact, I wrote that one not too long after your departure and wanted to send you a copy but decided that the better part of tact would be to desist. Your contribution to it was largely in the matter of properties. Never let it be said that I don’t make the most of experience and information, no matter how meager. But as to the main pattern of that story, it is one of deceit which is something I certainly never connect with you. In my modest way, I think it’s a wonderful story. I read it over and over and nobody enjoys it as much as I do—which is more or less the case with all my productions.”source


















































































































































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