Monday, March 24, 2008


I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt. For some strange reason I couldn’t quit thinking about Kris Kristofferson and Johnny Cash.
But it was Easter, and I could smell bacon frying, so I thought I’d get up and give it a try.

“What’s for breakfast?” I asked the little woman as I stumbled into the bathroom.

“Bacon & eggs”, she said, disappearing back down the hall with an armload of dirty clothes.

When I caught up to her in the kitchen there was bacon…and biscuits… on the counter, but that’s all.

“Where’s the eggs?” I grumbled.

She looked up from the paper for a moment and said “Outside. You gotta find them.”

Not being one to be contrary, I took the little wicker basket she handed me, grabbed a piece of bacon for the trip, and sauntered out the back door to gather up my morning meal. There were some in the half whiskey barrel. Some in the opening to the pool skimmer. Some more under the lid to the grill.

I brought in my booty and tossed it into the trash, washed my hands and made a bacon and cheese sandwich.

“Not gonna eat ‘em?” she asked.

Funny. They were blue and green and red, with little stripes across them in various other colors. And they were dirty.

“You’re not s’posed to do that with scrambled eggs.” I told her, as something out the kitchen window caught my eye.

I walked out the front door, then around to the side yard, and there was a rabbit, just sitting there. As I got within 10 feet or so, it scampered off under the neighbor’s outbuilding. But, it left behind something there where it had been sitting. A white, spherical object there in the grass I mowed yesterday.

“No way.” I said out loud, walking toward it.

Nope. Don’t tell the youngins, but rabbits don’t lay eggs. Even on Easter.

It was a ping pong ball one of the kids down the street had been playing with yesterday. No chocolate inside or nuthin’. I guess the rabbit just stopped there by chance. What are the odds? Ruined my whole morning.

Later, surfing through the TV channels from my favorite prone position on the couch, I came across a special holiday presentation of “The Ten Commandments”.

On Easter? Really?

That didn’t make much sense to me. Do you think the program director for that channel had any idea what he was doing? I wondered if the special holiday presentation of “The Odyssey” was coming on next.

That Charlton Heston sure made a good looking Moses, though, didn’t he? I noticed that, all through the movie, there were no guns hanging from his warm, live fingers. If he would have had one then, he could have done a number on that Pharo and his boys. They really must not have known who they were messing with – kind of like the program director, I guess.

It got me to thinking that holidays sure are strange times. And that brought my headache back. So I went back to bed.

Monday, I got fried eggs at Waffle Hut. They were white and yellow, just like eggs are supposed to be.

Wednesday, March 05, 2008


Last week I saw on the TV news that, for the first time in American history, one out of every 100 of us are presently incarcerated. A full one percent. And, further, the rate of incarceration is growing faster than the population. Right now, we have a higher percentage of people in prison than any other country in the world. 2.3 million of them.
And there’s another four million or so currently on parole or probation.

Understand, this includes all Americans. So, if you were to factor out, say, everybody under the age of, I dunno, ten, and assume that none of those were in jail (with the possible exception of a few in Texas & Florida where they consider those kids to be “adults”), then that takes that percentage even higher. And growing.

If this trend continues, sooner or later, everybody will be in jail. I gotta wonder: When that happens, who’s gonna feed the prisoners? Furthermore, that just shoots the heck out of your chance for a parole or early release, because there won’t be anybody outside the bars to let you out. A week, tops, and everybody’s going to starve to death. That’s cold, man.

Say we get down to a dozen un-imprisoned people in the country. How are they going to make up a judge, jury, prosecutor and defense attorney for those last folks? Then, you’ve got to have somebody to take them down to the jail and lock ‘em up. I just don’t see how this could work.

Wha’d they do?

In 2004 – the last year for which I could find statistics – only about 52% of those folks in the orange jumpsuits were there for violent crimes. 21% were there for property crimes, and 20% were there for drugs. I have to assume, since they list them separately, that those “druggies” were there for non-violent drug offenses. If that 20% figure is current, we’re talking about 460,000 people in the slammer for buying, selling, or doing them. A big chunk of those (I couldn’t find the stats, because, frankly, I’m too lazy to look too hard for them.) includes folks involved with a recreational weed that is purported by many to be less dangerous than tobacco or alcohol. But those are legal. Go figure.

Seems like we’ve just got a thing about locking people up. You know, to rehabilitate them. Because everybody knows those people who finally get out of prison become model citizens. Prison fixes them. This may be why the town of Brattleboro, Vermont has passed a resolution to arrest George W. Bush and/or Dick Cheney, should they ever show their faces in town – for war crimes. Personally, I don’t have a problem with that one, but I really don’t see how it’s doable either. The town has something over 12,000 population (meaning, I guess, that about 120 of them are in jail), so how many cops could they have? Can you see Barney walking up to the Secret Service dudes in the dark glasses, telling them to step aside so they can snag the Dubyuh and cart him off to the pokey? But, say he prevails. GWB goes to jail, court, and then to the Big House. Cheney comes to town to rescue him and they grab him too. Now they’re both making license plates. Eventually, by the numbers, the rest of us join them.

Would they still be President and Vice President? Couldn’t they just pardon themselves? Who’s going to use those license plates? This is so confusing.

My goal, at this point, is to hold out and be the guy who slams the door on the next-to-last guy. Then, when everybody else is in there banging on the bars with tin cups, I’m going to go to all your houses and steal your stuff. What are you going to do about it?
Once I’ve got it – having nobody to sell it to – I’m going to let everybody out again.
Except Bush & Cheney, Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, Bill O’Reilly, Ann Coulter, one little fat guy I used to work for, and that puppy-chucking soldier from YouTube. And maybe, out of the goodness of my heart, I’ll leave a few of those really mean violent bad guys in there to keep them company.

It’s good to be king.

© 2008 Rick Baber