It’s now officially summer, and The Sun now dominates every move I make.
Wednesday our air conditioner decided to go on strike. A call to our AC-MD resulted in the discovery of a broken motor. The part was delivered this morning, and hopefully by the end of the day we’ll be blasting cold air throughout the house again so that I may reopen our blinds and not feel as if we live in a cave.
I understand our Midwest and Northeast friends have fared no better this week. I feel your sweaty pain. Yesterday I succumbed to throwing rocks at the sun much as my ancestors did thousands of years ago.
All that did was get me sweaty and stinky. And it reminded me my right rotator cuff ain’t what it used to be.
So, make sure the house is closed up tight, turn the thermostat to 74, and let’s take a look at the past week, filled with inventions, indignities, and worthless politicians (redundant - I know) in all their OWN stinky splendor.
Let’s begin in Mississippi, where Law Enforcement just keeps on giving itself a black eye.
Really, there MUST be personality tests that weed out sociopaths like this baby-faced Martin Bormann. Just a few questions, like: Have you ever killed a small animal and enjoyed it?
Perhaps officials should have introduced Mr. Green to this beehive:
These bad boys are known to be really aggressive…like Pearl City, Mississippi deputies.
In my homestate, we turn to the Department of Just Plain Creepy Behavior.
Maybe he was thinking she’d find it endearing that he’d go so far as to live in her vermin-and-recluse-spider-infested crawlspace to keep tabs on her? MmmmNah.
In Mississippi’s Grenada Lake, a couple dozen dogs got themselves outfoxed.
You can’t call 27 swimming dogs a pack. How ‘bout a Pool of dogs?
The Miami Herald has reported just one more reason besides Governor I-Love-My-Wellies DeSantis to never move to The Sunshine State.
Yesterday I read an interesting report that suggests the burgeoning cost of storm damage can’t be directly connected to climate change. The suggestion is that it’s merely because hurricane-prone area’s population has increased exponentially in the last 25-30 years. You can’t fault the logic. You CAN however point out the illogic of people continuing to swarm to hurricane prone areas and then whining about the cost of insurance.
Not quite convinced of Florida’s great need of electro-shock therapy, Nebutal drips and hourly whippings with Dad’s belt if-I-have-to-tell-you-one-more-time?
Boozy Yacht Fight - ANOTHER great band name, no?
In hurricane-prone Texas, Juneteenth celebrations took on a different dimension, and provided a fascinating history lesson.
I’m a history nerd, and these stories of Black Seminoles, along with the relatively recent stories on the surprising number of Black cowboys in the old American West, are important in painting a more thorough and accurate picture of American history. I get discouraged when people feel additional stories of Black history erase the history they grew up with. History isn’t finite. If it was, we wouldn’t have archeologists and historians digging into archives, bringing new perspective to our heritage.
Down in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, here’s a fascinating story of a guy who quite literally created his own market and customers from scratch. You could say he played it safe:
Yeah, terrible pun. But it was screaming to be used.
In need of comic relief? We can always count on the State House in Baton Rouge.
Governor Landry knew what he was doing. “I can’t wait to be sued” he said earlier this week. But overall this might not be a bad idea. I mean, kids could learn a thing or two from the Ten Commandments. Example: the one about having no idols. Like, oh, maybe posters of the Ten Commandments in schools.
Damn, now I am depressed. Usually happens when I think of the Mentally Frail like Landry, DeSantis and Abbott. So let’s read some good news:
Now if they can figure out how to strap a silencer on whiny neighbors.
Uh-Oh…
Now that you’ve poked out your mind’s eyes, let me share a local story, some inspiration from one of my favorite bluegrass musicians.
Becky Buller is a quiet, sweet, incredibly talented fiddler/singer/songwriter from Manchester, ten minutes from Carpetbagger HQ. And like many quiet creative types, she sometimes struggles with depression. Her very practical observations about what they used to call “melancholy” are worth the read.
Friday night, Rickwood Field in Birmingham, Alabama was the site of an historic MLB game. Rickwood was home of the Black Barons, a Negro League team for many years prior to baseball’s integration. As a part of the coverage, Fox Sports interviewed Hall of Famer Reggie Jackson, who played in Birmingham after it became a minor league affiliate for the Kansas City Athletics. A much more contemplative and wise Jackson reflected on being back there. Forward to the five minute mark.
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Thanks as always for reading - you’re always welcome to offer feedback, too!