TV News LIES

A battle over Irish agrarian tenants' rights 132 years ago, in 1880, contributed a valuable concept to the world, adding a noble word into the language, from an ignoble affair: Boycott.  It would surface again, 90 years later, strongly so, with Cesar Chavez in the 1970s, in nonviolent protests once galvanizing and unifying farm workers.

Chavez's birthday is coming up, by the way, March 31st, and is celebrated and observed in a handful of states.  It is one more good and fine day worthy of keeping alive in the hearts of everyday working people.

Can we please activate the Z-ray, or whatever, and right now, puh-leeze, so the nation will take a break from being so incontrovertibly insane? We find re-fishing these foul and fetid political waters disgusting.  We really dislike disturbing the decorum with, well, anything Santorum.

But, Mr. Ricky can't seem to shut his face, has to bite at the air everywhere, like a crazed snapping turtle, trying to find a flipper-hold, trying to get a hold of something.  So, here we are again, trolling these waters, holding up some more trophy whoppers we've pulled out of Liars' Lake.  Mostly, we're just perplexed at the run of little fish in this big pond.  Don't let any of this slop get on you while you're taking the pic.

Progressives believe in the redistribution of wealth, so we're not usually too upset by this state of affairs. That’s what it means to be one country. E pluribus unum, and all that. We’re happy to help, because we think we’ve got a stake in making sure kids in rural Alabama get educations and seniors in Arizona get healthcare.

What’s good for them is good for all of us. We also like to think they’d help us out if our positions were reversed. It’s an investment in making America stronger, and we feel fine about that.

In the song, it's ten lords a-leaping.  Outside that tune -- where people live remarkably full lives without hens, swans, geese, turtle doves, and partridges underfoot -- it's seven billion or so left a-leaping today, almost the whole planet now doing it, and doing it by decree, called a bull, by a pope, long ago. So, Happy Papal Bull Day!

Pope Gregory XIII gave his name and breath of life to the Gregorian calendar we now automatically use, back in February of 1582.  It built its fanbase from there, eventually becoming the accepted secular calendar for the western world -- slow adoption and Protestant Reformations not withstanding, in which papal edicts were given cold-shouldered snubs.

Georgia's not been herself lately.  Could be from hitting 280, being born way back in 1732, last of the lucky 13 colonies to get going.  Georgia lately seems liable to put reading glasses in the 'fridge, and the milk jug into the oven.  Haven't seen the cat lately, but the clock's in the catbox, and the newspaper's right here, in the microwave. Hmmm. Something's not right.

Of course, there are all sorts of reasons events might seem inexplicable to someone not acclimated and acculturated to the art of goings-on in the peanuts-pecans-and-peaches state. Some things defy the ordinary belief that we all have our own peculiar ways of doing this and that, and that one should make some allowances for that.  Here's one comes to mind:

Stop making sense with Republicans:  Studies are showing you're just wasting your time, trying to be reasonable with this group of humanoids in our family, all the while hoping facts will illuminate the path, facts will help turn the corner, facts will help reveal the righteous path we all need to walk.

Ain't gonna happen. Clouds won't be parting, there will be no shafts of penetrating sunlight appearing on non-fact-believer foreheads, no sudden appearance of brightening light bulbs overhead, no swirls of St. Elmo's Fire ambling through to expose Republican minds to instantaneous and thunderstruck activation.