Chamblee54

One of the blogs I read everyday is “Puntabulous”. Written by a self described dork named Craig, Puta Punta is good, lightweight fun.
Earlier this week he posted “Why I hate Politics”. He listed the usual suspects. The hype, the cattiness, and the hypocrisy were all mentioned.
One time a man told a preacher, “I don’t like to go to church. There are too many hypocrites there” “There is always room for one more”
I add a comment.
1- Politics gives bloggers plenty to write about. 2- When two cars crash with bloody results, you can’t look at it and you can’t look away. 3- The system of bribes campaign contributions is what is really putrid. The corporate media loves this mess, because they can sell overpriced commercials to the criminal candidates. 4- There is equality. Black politicians are just as rotten as white politicians. 5- With state and local governments, there is no limit to the fun. I would say something to you about New York politicians, but I am from Georgia. 6- Two wrongs don’t make a right. Even if the wrongdoer is Ted Kennedy. 7- Just like amerikan politics, this comment is three items shy of a top ten list.

The phone rang at 1:45. All PG had to do with his blog post was add the pictures, hit publish, and look at the results. He knew it was Uzi calling about their sunday afternoon walk.
I looked for a nature preserve behind briarcliff high school, and i found another one over off north decatur. you must really hate the thought of going to piedmont park After a few minutes deliberation, the hikers agreed to meet behind the waffle house, and go down to the park.

This is as far as I got Sunday. Before I finished this, I made a trip to Buckhead. On my way back, I heard a radio commercial. “The concert is free, with a donation to help keep Smyrna Beautiful”

“So this friend of mine has a blog. He has a post about dragon con, with lots of pictures. Then he had a post about the Republican Convention. My comment was, comparing Dragon Con and The Repub convention, which group had the better grip on reality? I like what Rush Limbaugh said. God, Guns, and Babes, we got us a candidate Lets go walk over here, there is more shade and I have an idea for a picture. I hear that dragon con has gotten republican anyway, with greedy owners squeezing every dime they can. Of course, I have never been to it This monument is neat. You can pose next to it and paste in whatever you want where the sign used to be. you know, people always seem to like it when you take pictures of their dog What are you going to do with all those dog pictures? Paste them onto that picture of Sarah Palin. The one with her in a bikini holding a rifle There had been irresponsible talk about taking the long route around the softball fields by Grady High School. The reality is that the first sunday of september is pretty hot in Georgia. The two humans then passed the doggie park, and decided to go for a walk, sans canines. The doggie park had big rocks for dogs, and a few benches for people. The dogs and the people were very well behaved. Where do we go from here? The most direct route to your car, with the most shade

The big four candidates are known. It is time to look at the names.
All four are named for someone. The three men are two juniors and a third. The lady has the same first name as her mother.
Both Demoze are Juniors, and both have award winning middle names. Barack Hussein Obama Jr. has been loudly noted. His running mate is Joseph Robinette Biden Jr. There is no word on the origin of Robinette.
Mr. Biden has a son, who is J. R. Biden III. Mr. Obama has two daughters, neither of whom is named Barack.
On the Repub side, John Sidney McCain III is the Presidential pick. He has a son, J.S. McCain IV.
The Vice Presidential choice is Sarah Louise Heath Palin. Her mother was Sarah Sheeran Heath. Wikipedia, a valuable resource for this article, does not say where Louise came from. None of Mrs. Palin’s children are named Sarah.
Spell check suggestions for this feature:
biden- widen, bidden, bide, bidet, boden
orgin- origin, organ
wikipedia- pediatric, cyclopedia, stipendiary

There is a stack of cds I am going to take back to the library today. If nothing else, this is something I can talk about other than Sarah Palin.
I give McNapalm credit…he has gotten excitement for his campaign. People are paying attention now, and a star is born. I saw the speech that hockeymom gave Wednesday, and she is quite a performer. If you don’t fact check, it is impressive.
In many ways, the Repubs have taken what the Demoze started and done better. BHO is a Reaganesque triumph of style over substance. Hillary has taken a sledgehammer to the glass ceiling. And now hockeymom has driven a snowmobile through the opening. She will be with us for a while, regardless of the outcome of this election.
I hockeymom credit for one thing. She did this on her own. Hillary is famous because of her husband. Hockeymom is famous for what she has done, and her husband is the decorative spouse.
Back to the cds. The first was “Doc at the Radar Station” by Captain Beefheart. CB is some kind of sidekick to Frank Zappa, who enjoyed moderate success. He has since retired from music and is a painter. “Doc…” was released in 1980, and is a bit past his prime. His shtick gets a bit tiresome after a while, and I probably won’t miss this much after I return it.
He did a show at the Great Southeast Music Hall after they moved to Cherokee Plaza. In those days, I would stop by if there were cars parked outside, and if the second show had started, then I could often get in free to see what was left. I saw a lot of music this way in the seventies. So, the magic band was playing, and I showed up. There were people hanging out in the parking lot, and I talked to someone I knew in high school. You needed to show a ticket to get into the hall, so I went home. Such is life.
I timed it a bit better with the next artist, Patti Smith. The cd is got is her first, “Horses”. The cover is by Robert Mapplethorpe, who was once Ms. Smith’s bf. ( This was when the expression ms. was becoming popular. Someone, who may have been Patti Smith, said in print that ms. Sounds like a sick bumblebee).The music sounds great 30+ years later, and it is easy to see why she created such a buzz. The fact that she still performs…with two kids in her band…is astonishing. That might surprise some people who knew her then.
She played a show in 1979 at a venerable buckhead facility, which was still known as the Capri. It was summer, and the side door was open. I walked in and saw a few numbers. Her current album was “Wave”, and she did that, and “So you want to be a rock and roll star”. Lenny Kaye stood tall and seemed to be in control.
Her bass player, Ivan Kral, was in the band for Iggy Stooge the next year at 688. He came on stage with this white thing coming out of his nose. He did not play the entire show.
There are three more cds, but I am tired of writing. If you want to read more, there are 100 million blogs to satisfy your craving. If you have not had your fill of Palintudes, go here and especially here. People who know her in Alaska seem to have things to say.
This feature may never get posted. Here is more about hockeymom. There is a picture of Todd Palin’s former business partner. He is trying to get his divorce records sealed.
I will return this music in a while, and I WILL GET A CHECK IN RECEIPT. Once I returned some cds, and the scanner did not catch one. I got a phone call later saying that I had not turned in “Shake your Booty”. Yes, it couldn’t be Patsy Cline or quixie’s golden oldies…it was a disco collection called “Shake your Booty”. Fortunately, the cd was on the shelf when I went to straighten out the mess, and the county was no longer mad at me. I learned my lesson…when you return cds to a library, GET A CHECK IN RECIEPT.
Spell check suggestions for this feature:
demoze- demote
reaganesque- romanesque, grotesqueness,  arabesque, kafkaesque
cd- cad, cod, cud, cpd, ed, id, rd
kral- karl, koral, oral, aral, ural,
palintudes- amplitudes, platitudes,  palindromes, altitudes

A friend of mine likes to say that life is bad fiction. He could be thinking about Sarah Palin.
Lets go over this. On the morning after BHO’s moment of triumph in Denver, JSM announces his choice for Vice President. He chose the Governor of Alaska, Sarah Louise Heath Palin. Mrs. Palin is a former beauty queen and a staunch conservative. The reactions tell more about the pundit than the politician…Repubs think she is pretty cool, (both puns intended), and Demos are not so sure.
There was the story about her youngest son, Trig. Mrs. Palin was told during the pregnancy that he had down’s syndrome, but she chose to keep the baby. Who is going to care for a four month old baby while mother is running for Vice President? This looks good to the “Pro Life” crowd. It is a tough call either way, and this is nothing I would hold against her. The following story I am not so sure about:
In April, reportedly 36 weeks pregnant, Palin flew to Dallas to give a speech. Before the speech, she began to leak amniotic fluid. Tough Alaska moose-hunter that she is, she gave the speech anyway. She called her family doctor, who is not an OB-GYN, who allegedly told her it would be OK to fly back to Alaska. For the record, there are hospitals in Dallas.
Having given up the governor’s private plane, Palin flew commercial, not telling Alaska Airlines that she was in labor and that her water had broken. No airline personnel seemed to note her as a woman about to give birth.
Her looooong Dallas to Alaska flight had a stopover in Seattle. There are also hospitals there.
So Palin finally arrived in Anchorage, where the airport (ironically named after Alaska Sen. Ted “Bridge to Nowhere” Stevens) is six miles from possibly the best medical facility in the state, Providence Hospital. Providence is one of two hospitals in Anchorage that has a NICU unit, which could come in handy for a 40-plus woman, just off a long flight, about to give birth to a premature baby with Down syndrome.
Palin, however, drove (or was driven) approximately an hour to the much mediumer Mat-Su Regional Hospital in Palmer, Alaska, which does not seem to have a NICU unit.

Before long, a rumor began to spread about the maternity of Trig. Thats right, maternity. Usually it is paternity that is open to discussion. It seems some were saying that Trig was really the offspring of Bristol, the 17 y.o. daughter of Sarah. The story quoted above has some comments about this, and there do seem to be strange things going on.
But, there was an answer to these rumors. Bristol Palin was indeed five months pregnant, and could not have been the mother of Trig. Sarah Palin is a social conservative. She is opposed to abortion even in cases of rape and incest. She favors “abstinence only” sex education. There would seem to be a disconnect here. Life is bad fiction.
All of this raises questions about the decision making ability of JSM. One of the most important jobs the President has is appointing people. This is his first big appointment, and apparently it was not a good one.
The press continues to say more about the pundit that the subject. The Demos are saying that they do not approve, that Mrs. Palin was poorly vetted, and that this is a mistake. The Repubs are calling this a high tech lynching, and are in full victim mode. The “MSM” is once again the villian. This tells me that the Repubs know they have made a mistake.
The last thing in this feature is a letter from Wasilla, Alaska. The author is not fond of Mrs. Palin, and does not paint a flattering picture. To be fair, the author notes ” she has hated me since back in 1996, when I was one of the 100 or so people who rallied to support the City Librarian against Sarah’s attempt at censorship” Is this fair? Maybe not, but the woman might have her hand on the trigger that fires the bomb. JSM is 72 y.o., and has had cancer. If Mrs. Palin gets to be vice president, she may very well get to be President.

Spell check suggestions for this feature:
palin- patin, plain, paling, pain, pal
sarah- Sarah, tarah, Zarah. saran
BHO’s- hbo’s, rho’s, who’s bo’s
looooong- woolongong, onlooking, looming, flooring. loosing
abstenience- convenience. provenience, abstention. lenience, abstinence
Wasilla- fusullade, drusilla, sibilla, willard

The old courthouse in Decatur is nice inside, but not terribly ornate. Aside from the marble walls and stairs, and a spiffy exterior, it is just another old building. It is a reminder that Dekalb used to be a mostly rural county, rather than the neighbor of World Marketing Headquarters. The booths were lined up on N. McDonough, Ponce de Leon, and the plaza by the Marta Station. People were everywhere, especially on the Marta Plaza. There was a children’s stage there. Someone was reading some awful poetry when I walked by. During the questions for the authors, the subject of obituaries was discussed. I got to thinking about the differences in “funeralizing” between white and black. I got to looking around the room, and could not see a single dark face. Later, when the crowd was leaving, I did see a black woman. Self publishing a book is an act of faith. I wonder if people make it worthwhile. There were a bunch of authors who had booths to sell their self published work. I talked to a lady who was telling the story of the courthouse shootings. A publisher told her, I will publish your book if you put in four chapters about Brian Nichols. That wasn’t the story the lady wanted to tell. I hope she sold enough books to justify spending labor day weekend in a booth outdoors. There was people watching galore. People of all ages, colors, and description were there. There were even a few dogs. The dominant type did seem to be the middle aged woman who goes belongs to a book club. There was a booth promoting a place called the Wrens Nest. It was the home of Joel Chandler Harris, who wrote the Uncle Remus books. At one time, the Wrens Nest was a tourist attraction, but has fallen on downhill times. Now, people are trying to bring it back. I mentioned “I have lived here all my life and never been to the Wrens Nest” “I wish I had a dollar for every time I have heard that”

At first the idea of a book festival sounded very boring. Then I saw the ad announcing an appearance by Mary Kay Andrews.
Miss Andrews ( you always use Miss when referring to a pen name) has been my favorite author this summer. I found “Hissy Fit” at a yard sale, and have gotten three others at the library since then. Maybe she can sell something to Hollywood and make money on it.
I got to Decatur about noon, and parked at the First Baptist Church. It was my duty as a recovering Baptist. The old courthouse was easy to find, and as I walked in, I realized that I had never been in that building. By the time I was old enough to get traffic tickets, the county business had moved into a boring building across the street.
Going upstairs with minutes to spare before the lecture, I saw the author in the back of the crowd. I said ” you are my hero. I got Hissy Fit at a yard sale and four others at the library” Soon it was time for her to speak.
Her first comment was that it felt funny to be speaking in a courtroom. You can stop writing mysteries, but you are still a murder mystery writer.
While discussing where she got ideas for her stories, she told of the time she was driving kids to school in a carpool. There was a crew of convicts picking up trash by the road. She she realized if she had a gun, she could kill one and no one would know she did it.
Her love of “junking’ and antiques got a working over. There was the time when Miss Andrews and her friend Celestine Sibley were going to a funeral in South Carolina. The two ladies stopped repeatedly to look at antiques, and missed the service. They did arrive in time to eat some funeral food.
While plugging discussing her latest book “Deep Dish”, she mentioned the time she looked in the obituaries ( Irish sports page), and saw Ellen Kate Picklesheimer. The name made an impression on her, and she used it in her book, without the standout last name.
After Miss Andrews was through, a lady named N.M. Kelby read from her book “Murder at the Bad Girls Bar & Grill”. It was about a man who owned a bar in front of a housing development in Florida, and discovered a body one day in a dumpster. Miss Kelby had a freebie, a temporary tattoo advertising the Bad Girls Bar and Grill.
After the two ladies spoke, it was time to take questions. Miss Andrews told the story of how she wrote mysteries under her “real” name, and wanted to try something new under a different handle. That way, if it flopped then no one would be the wiser.
This was too predictable, so this reporter raised his hand. “Why do so many people in the obituaries have funny names?” “Well, that is a question to ponder” It should be no surprise that Miss Andrews said this is the south, and we like funny names here. A man in the back of the house raised his hand. ” I work at a funeral home, and I have seen thousands of obituaries. We should get together and let you see them” ” Miss Kelby chimed in, and talked about ninety year old men who use childhood nicknames in their obituary.
Before much longer, this subject was exhausted, and the authors went into the Clark Harrison room to sign books.

It is with the saddest heart that I must pass on the following news. Please join me in remembering a great icon of the entertainment community. The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and trauma complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71. Doughboy was buried in a lightly greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs.Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and Captain Crunch. The grave site was piled high with flours. Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy and lovingly described Doughboy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded. Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times, he was still a crusty old man, and was considered a roll model for millions. Doughboy is survived by his wife, Play Dough, two children, John Dough and Jane Dough, plus they had one in the oven. He is also survived by his elderly dad, Pop Tart.The funeral was held at 3:50 for about 20 minutes. I am not clever enough to compose the above piece. Credit is hereby given to whoever wrote it.

One of my blog heroes is Large Tony. He is going to retire soon, and will be missed.
He stays with his Granny in the hills of Tennessee. Yesterday, he was talking about once when he was up at Granny’s house as a young boy. They got up early one morning to see the wedding of Charles and Diana. I dare say the bond between them is more genuine than the bond between Charles and Diana.
I saw an earth changing event at my Gran’s house one day. ( And why do people say Granny, or Nana, or Gran? Its not like I remember having a choice ). Gran lived in a little apartment in Mrs. Stuckey’s house on Virginia Avenue. This was a few years before Virginia Highlands was  trendy. I was staying with her one summer day when I was ten years old.
We walked down to the granite house, next to the golf course in Piedmont Park. Gran’s friend worked there. This was the summer of Beatlemania, and Gran’s friend made a point of telling me that she DID NOT LIKE THE BEATLES. ” If The Beatles were playing for free across the street, I would not waste the energy to walk across the street to see them”.
Gran and I walked back to her apartment to see “As the World Turns”. The show was interrupted for a news bulletin. Walter Cronkite came on the say that a North Vietnamese boat had fired on an American boat in the Gulf of Tonkin.We did not know, at the time, that this was a world changing event.I doubt Gran ever thought much about it. But our Congress used that incident… which turned out to be largely fabricated… to justify our sending many more troops to fight in Vietnam. That war was a world changing event. We are still dealing with the effects of that conflict.

You can find out the doggonest stuff on the internet. Having google not like you is not that much of a handicap.
It started out when made my daily visit to Centurion. “Scent” is a Jesus Worshiper who has banned me from commenting. I have forgiven him, but I remain persona non grata. Such is life.
His blog has a place where you can do a google search. I appreciate such facilities, as google, for some reason, will not let me use their search engine. I find that I can access their algorithmic wonders through a third parties, and I wanted to see if “Scent” was good for that.
The phrase I entered was “thrunombulax”. Thrunombulax is a phrase I have used to describe my planet of origin. It can be handy to have an alternate planet as a place of birth.
Well, google via “Scent” does not work. I went to another google proxy, WGST radio. WGST is the Atlanta home of Rush Limbaugh. Googleproxy does work there, but today the phrase thrunombulax produced this result: Your search did not match any documents. My curiosity was whetted. I entelime the word thrunombulax into MSN and Yahoo search and I got the same result. A blogger called PiersGavestonJr had once used thrunombulax The passage in question went like this: Am I being called back to thrunombulax (the planet of my birth)?
6- My giving advice about depression is like Cynthia Mckinney (my representative in congress) giving advice about hair care.
What makes this so fascinating…this business of finding one usage of the phrase thrunombulax on the internet…is the fact that thrunombulax originated with Frank Zappa. He put out an album once called “Live from L.A.”, and there was a song called “Cheepnis” on it. There was a giant poodle dog which the peasants of the valley called thrunombulax . Or so I thought. You would think that with all the song lyric sites, one of them would have “Cheepnis” and thrunombulax .
Back to MSN. Google can take their algorithms and do unspeakable things to Perez Hilton with them. A search for Frank Zappa lyrics landed me on a songlyric site. Before I could get to the goods on “Cheepnis”, there was a popup ad for Parental Internet Controls. I have a strong anti popup device on my computer, and it takes a strong popup to popup here. But I digress. After a few bandwidth crunching minutes , the lyrics to “Cheepnis” came up.
Frank Zappa spelled it “Frunombulax”.
Spell check suggestions for this feature:
fushcia- eustachian, auschwitz, katuscha, fustian
thrunombulax- perambulation, ambulatory
www- wow
parenting.htm- parenthetical, parenthesis, implementing
cheepnis- cheeps, sheepish, cheerios, cheeriness, cheekiness
google- goggle
grata- grate
McKinney- Mckinnon
frunombulax- perambulation, amubulation, thrunombulax

In more disreputable parts of the blogosphere, this is known as HNT. That stands for Half Naked Thursday. Now, this is a family blog, and Gomez and Morticia think I should keep it clean.
This picture was taken under the bridge behind Cherokee Plaza. I went there to take pictures of graffiti. Under a bridge is a good place to wear clothes.
This bridge was rebuilt before the MARTA line went through there. The old bridge was a lot of fun. It had a steep drop off after you went over the center of the top. If you were not driving slow your car would leave the ground, and fall back down with a lot of noise and busted parts.
Getting back to the HNT theme…even though it is Friday GMT now…we have pictures of some people who need to keep their clothes on, at least when they are in public. In the case of Senator Haircut…bless his heart…that man is a piece of work. This is not the first time he has been caught.
It is suggested that the Demos may be suffering from buyers remorse, and think that BHO is an unelectable turkey. The people I hear saying this are mostly wingnut radio whiners, who are about as neutral as the rasmussen poll.
The only problem with the BHO doubters is the prospect of Hillary making a run for the White House. Did anyone really want her in the oval office? AGAIN. America is much better off without hearing that laugh . And for those who would have her as the Vice Presidential selection, I have two words…Lyndon Johnson. LBJ as President was no accident.
The last selection in this collection is possibly photoshopped. Just like the 2000 election.

PG was busy in the studio when the phone rang. His friend Uzi usually called on Sunday, sometimes before noon. Lately the calls had been coming earlier and earlier. The absence of slack is disturbing.
“I got an idea for something we can do this afternoon. The zoo is letting county employees in free today. I will call between one and two”
PG had not been to the zoo since he was a kid. On one of those visits, he had gone with some neighbors. On the way back, they rolled up the windows, locked the doors, and drove through Underground Atlanta. This was before it was developed the first time.
At two, PG and Uzi met at behind the Waffle House on Piedmont, and took PG’s honda to the zoo. They went through the tunnel on Boulevard, and on down to Grant Park. Turning off Boulevard, they saw a line of cars pulling out of the lot. There were no empty spaces in the first section of the lot, and the two decided to look for parking on a side street. Then, as if by magic, there was an empty parking spot.
The first non human animals that PG saw were flamingos. He thought they were made of pink plastic, but saw that they were more white than fuchsia. There were lots and lots of two legged animals, which was to be expected with county employees admitted free. Elephants were next, and then it was on to the pandas.
The pandas were in a chinese looking house. There was a fifteen minute wait to get in, and then you were encouraged to keep moving so others could get in for a look. The big panda was asleep, and looked like he was sleeping off a rough night. The baby panda was 110 pounds, and nibbled on bamboo leaves.
The orangutans were a bit more showmanlike, mugging for the multitudes. Then it was onto the reptile house. At the reptile house, PG saw a ten foot snake in a four foot box, and realized that this was an animal prison. The rest of the reptiles only served to make PG appreciate what freedom he had.
The rest of the outdoor animals had it a bit better. The faux wilderness on Cherokee Avenue was not the same as home. The fact that much of Africa is developed, civilized and torn by civil wars does not make it right.
The Lions were tending to some cubs, while the short noisy people crowded against the fence. Later, PG and Uzi had a discussion about this. “Did you think about throwing one of those kids over the fence and feeding the lion? “ “Do you ever NOT think that?”
Before long, PG and Uzi had seen enough animals. The trip to the zoo was worth what they paid.