Want to know about the real “Fake News”?
Watch THE SOCIAL DILEMMA. New on Netflix.
Want to know about the real “Fake News”?
Watch THE SOCIAL DILEMMA. New on Netflix.
Getting closer to reorganization. The third edition of THE LITTLE GREEN BOOK of TENNIS is done. It is the first third of the new blog site. Hopefully the new ordering of blogs will make it easy as it goes from beginners, to high school and tournament players, to talented juniors, to college tennis aspirants, and up. Help for coaches and teams.
We are still working on the mechanics. The next third comes from PLAY IS WHERE LIFE IS. Town lore and people from five small North Carolina towns at the core of this third.
The final source is largely from A LEVEL OF THINKING. From dark to light, serious to entertaining. This material concludes the twenty some “columns or categories” each of which reads as an independent “chapter”. Now one is able to skip from chapter to chapter by choosing and clicking on the preferred column located to the right on the website home page.
My friend was one of 5 boys, most younger than their six sisters. In rural North Carolina in the 50’s there was little air conditioning. One night with the Father already in bed, two of the oldest girls were doing their homework at the kitchen table. Window open.
Strangely the oldest child told her sister that”….I’’m going to take Daddy his cigarettes”. Though knowing Daddy didn’t smoke, daughter two said nothing. The older girl went to her Father and reported a “Peeping Tom” right outside the open window.
The Father got out of bed, took up his rifle and crept around the house. And shot the peeper.
Father was actually friends with Sheriff, who soon was on their phone.
“A man in the hospital said you shot him in the leg” said the constable. “Yeah, but I meant to hit him in the head” Father admits.
The Sheriff then tells Father he’ll pick him up and both will go to the hospital. The Sheriff somehow did not notice Father put his rifle in the cop’s car!
The Sheriff was in the hospital lobby when he turned and saw Father with his rifle.
“What in the hell are doing bringing that rifle in here?”
“I may shoot him again!”
The Sheriff called his friend by name saying “…if you shoot him in here I’ll have to arrest you.
Now come on in here to see him.”
Father however was carrying his rifle out the door.
Sheriff: “Where are you going?”
“If I can’t shoot him I don’t want to see him!”
Trump to end virus? He can’t stop Robocalls.
I watched both conventions. The Republican show left several impressions:
At least Trump doesn’t stutter, or his speech would have lasted 5 hours.
STRATEGY: GAME PLAN. HOW TO WIN.
TACTICS: THE TOOLS USED TO ACHIEVE YOUR STRATEGY
In 2008 Barack Obama’s success was credited, in no small part, to the campaign’s use of “social media.”
2020 has seen the fact emerge that there is a camera everywhere. Personal phones to professionals. The amount of footage is staggering. The old saying of “don’t say anything you wouldn’t want to see in the newspaper” now includes actions.
There is no shortage of such in the political arena. The president and cronies have put it out there for everyone.
Visual evidence daily. The crap is out of the bull.
Brian Stetler’s book, HOAX, DONALD TRUMP, FOX NEWS, AND THE DANGEROUS DISTORTION OF TRUTH records the staggering times Trump, et. al. use the word, hoax.
The most damning use was in regard, early on, to the virus. Combine the film of all the mistakes and oversights, and then contend that his actions prevented American deaths is chilling. Do not let him contend that his actions did not cause the large percentage of the soon to be 200,000 American deaths between the “hoax ” rants, and the flip-flop “oops”, or “nevermind!”
‘Want a real hoax? “W” Bush and gang began this hoax with a war, or two. Wrote them off the books. Lost control of the economy and led America from a budget surplus to the trillions we now have no idea to repay. The kicker is that Obama did the heavy lifting to begin to turn it all. Here is a football comparison. When coaches take over a 0-10 program they are given about four years. “W” left us 2-8, 1-9, 0-10. In our business if you see a JET-JOB (a team goes from 1-9 to 7-3 in one year) somebody is probably cheating. The Obama Administration did it right and the foundation for steady improvement was handed to Trump. His reaction? Within literally weeks he started the “I the greatest ever”” daily.
News flash for non-coaches: If you are handed a 7/3 team, win the first three and lose the next seven—–? (NFL–NOT FOR LONG).
GOP-YOU GOTTA COUNT THOSE LOSSES. NO EXCUSES. ADIOS. 2018 numbers don’t matter. 200,000 is a real number. Unemployment today, GNP- today, etc.
Tons of video. Books about all the lies (one cites more than 3000 and it was published before the virus), blood, money and treasure, esteem.
Hard to cover it all. Can’t begin to begin to address the “I AM THE BLACK MESSIAH” hoax. Wow.
It is the Democrat’s campaign’s task to use it effectively. Don’t let them “p” on your leg and tell you its raining”.
Did I get this right?
Recently we hosted a good friend who had just lost his Father. I asked if he had done anything to disappoint his dad? He said “…my brother took care of that”, alluding to a sibling who hadn’t missed a chance to embarrass the whole family. Often.
Another guest suggested his Father took him to a Klan rally. Works both ways.
Later I turned the question inward and out popped a latent event.
At 17 years old little league and pony league baseball were past. Small town summers were “boring” and we now had those car keys.
Between puberty, time, and Pabst Blue Ribbon, one oft time goes astray.
Being 80 years, 1958 was a long time ago…memory fades. Some moments of the “outing” are vague, some totally blank, some quite vivid.
There was no tryout for our football at my high school. Anybody willing gets a suit. Mine was way too big as I weighed 104 lbs as a freshman QB aspirant. No other underclass men, pre-puberty and starry eyed, made the first practice.
We barely had enough to scrimmage. I had no way to get to practice. Now the seniors were driving hand me down Studebakers, Hudson Hornets, Kaiser-Fraziers, pickups, etc. They gave me rides to practice, then to their other more mature practices.
Being new in town, these older guys were my early teen friends and teammates. One they called Bruno.
Robert Worth Brown had gone noticeably unnoticed till adolescence. Puberty hit him hard. He was among the very smartest kids the town had ever turned loose, yet he began to unravel. Substance abuse they call it now. Then it was mostly beer and concoctions he dreamed up from the drug store where we both played Fonzie. Oddly enough paregoric and ammonia were just a squirt away from the soda fountain.
During the summer of 1958 and already finding new ways to occupy ourselves, Bruno (“Bobby”) was older, fearless, and creative. Often I chickened out when he proposed creative adventures, fueled by boredom. All the older guys cut me some slack, because of my age, and I was a preacher’s kid. I did all the cussing and smoking I could, but still I often felt I let them down, mainly Bobby.
As stated my now memory varies from vivid to vague to blank. I vaguely remember that the following was initially my way to gain favor with these older guys. Why my parents were out of town I am not sure. I am relatively sure the idea of a summer lawn party at the Baptist parsonage was my idea. Bruno was impressed and embellished my imagination with visions of party lights, champagne, a jazz band, etc. Someone on the “planning committee” suggested tuxedos. Go to blank.
I don’t remember the party only we had one, less some amenities. I do remember after the party, riding with Bruno who had realized he needed more to drink. He of course knew where to access moonshine. We headed at midnight to a man’s home. After awakening the guy, Bruno said “…he gave me a contact in Biscoe (13 miles west). 30 minutes later, plus some bootleg blended whiskey, we are back on Plank road when Bruno sees a man walking on the road.
The town mayor ran a railroad cross-tie business. His nephew was with us and recognized the walker as a cross-tie loader for his Uncle, the aforementioned mayor.
“That’s Tootie “ said nephew , Charlie. so, we picked Tootie Simmons up, 250 lbs of tie loader, all black and half drunk. Tootie piled in.
Vaguely we wound up at the parsonage. Charlie slept in my mom’s bed. I must have slept in the front room by the door bell. It rang long and loud till I answered it.
‘Is Charlie here? He was supposed to meet his ride back to Appalachian (State) an hour ago”! I
went and got Charlie, but not the employee of the Mayor, Tootie, who snored on the floor next to Charlie in Mom’s bed. The town soon enough would dig out the details.
The next week was agony. When the confrontation? Who knew what? How in the hell did I think this would turn out okay? These fears fit the vivid category.
Strange? Nothing mentioned for several days, a week, two weeks.
In the third week a member of the church choir called me over for a private conversation. She told me she was in the “beauty shop” when a customer asked My mom about the lawn party. And she relayed some of the rumors.
Later I realized during this time period my dad was quite ill.
I like to think my mom would do anything to protect my Dad. He would have been so “disappointed” in me.
I think, too, my mom got a chuckle.
I HAVE DECIDED TO NOT ARGUE ABOUT RELIGION OR POLITICS OR RACE OR WAR. THAT DOES NOT MEAN I DON’T HAVE OPINIONS RELATED. WHAT I HAVE DECIDED TO DO IS TO WRITE DOWN HOW I FEEL FOR ANY ONE WHO IS INTERESTED IN WHAT I BELIEVE. THE ARTICLE “the manifest” ON MY BLOG BEST EXPRESSES CONCLUSIONS AND BELIEFS I HAVE ARRIVED AT LATER IN MY 80 YEARS. DURING COVID AND REHABS I HAVE TRIED TO READ PEOPLE WHO SEEM TO SHARE HOW I SEE IT ALL.
TO ACCESS THE BLOG AND ARTICLE GOOGLE “THE LITTLE GREEN BOOK of TENNIS “. WHEN TO BOOK COMES UP CLICK ON THE TITLE. THEN SCROLL DOWN TO THE 9TH ARTICLE, “the manifest”. t. parham
“…you see it from your side and I see it from mine.” (Bob Dylan- One too Many Mornings and a Thousand Miles Behind. )
“…you are right from your side and I’m right from mine.” ONE TOO MANY MORNINGS by Dylan.
Both sides are amazing at arguing. The problem is nothing changes or gets done. BLACK LIVES MATTER say defund the police. Really?
In Malcolm Gladwell’s latest book, TALKING TO STRANGERS, his chapter 11 (Case Study: The Kansas City Experiments) describes the City’s various attempts to lower the murder rate. Much like many American municipalities.
Several plans, or experiments, failed. Two factors were “coupled” that resulted in an approximate 50% success rate, compared to all others flat failing. The police found the crimes were almost totally committed in small, off the main drag streets. The flaw with other experiments too often was the need for search warrants, to enter abodes. Traffic stops did not require a search warrant.
Gladwell details the success of these methods in KC, and then in 300 other American police departments.
From a layman’s perspective: It seems that the discovery of these police “successes” coincides with the pronounced rise of police/black conflicts. So often sparked by the frequency of police arresting black drivers.
While the police would contend these techniques were a godsend to successful arrests, were there police policies that created havoc among black citizens. Are changes that both sides can make to make this an American “win/win”?