Senators and NASCAR

This sign says it all. It doesn't need any clever, snarky, or smartass remark from me.

An Incident with the American Flag

It was an interesting story from a poky little college town in southern Georgia: some students at Valdosta State University decided to hold a protest by walking on the American flag. The nature of their protest was not defined; but somehow they adopted walking on the flag as a huge way of getting attention for whatever protest they were having. No leaflets, no cue cards, no signs, nothing. They were not the most articulate of protesters, methinks. 

Along comes a young woman, identified as a veteran, who snatched up the flag to rescue it from this sort of defilement. The campus police cometh; and try to take the flag away from the irate vet. She resisted, and they have to wrestle her down to the ground to de-flag her. Anyway, neither the protesters nor the campus cops file charges. Let bygones be bygones; but they cited her for criminal trespass, meaning don't come back to V.S.U. period! Kind of harsh.

The veteran in question was Michelle Manhart, formerly an Air Force training Staff Sergeant at Lackland AFB. Reading further in The Air Force Times, Staff Sergeant Manhart apparently left the Air Force back in 2006 because she had been demoted due to having posed for Playboy magazine! And that televised paragon of rectitude, Montel Williams, criticized her on television. Oh, don't have a cow, Montel!

I admit a lot of sympathy with her with this episode in Valdosta. The protesters were deliberately trying to set off a response of some kind. As for the campus cops, they could wear giant condoms for headgear!

The Valdosta story is not over. A large "Flags Over V.S.U." rally" attracted about 4,000 people to protest the actions of the protesters and the cops. The school canceled classes for a day. 

We Go Postal

The United States Postal Service does sell commemorative stamps that people buy to augment their stamp collections or as souvenirs, a goodly percentage of which are not actually used as postage. In effect, they are selling pretty (or less) miniature pictures! But, hey, it's all to the good, isn't it? It's win-win both for collectors and the USPS. Now last year in the Music Icons series Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix went into that Postal Valhalla. John Lennon and Jim Morrison might make it soon as well! And country legend Johnny Cash and soul singer Ray Charles are already enshrined on stamps! Soul legend Otis Redding unequivocally deserved a stamp, as "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" surely demonstrated!

Yes, we in America honor at least some of our artists. Now, it is my understanding that the USPS issues only 20 new stamps per year, and some of those must be given to patriotic themes, anniversaries, and various whims that are officially indulged. And let's not forget the centenary of America's involvement in The War to End All Wars© coming up in 1917!

You must admit, though, that this is a winning thread for boosting stamps and encouraging American culture through philately. (Yes, I know, John Lennon wasn't American; but he did get killed in NYC.) Now since a commemorative stamp cannot be issued for a living person, we have to wait for later times to send our Barry Manilow, Britney Spears, or Mariah Carey stamps. However, maybe the USPS could ignore its rule of 20 and issue supernumerary stamps to honor others that music fans might deem worthy. And, hey, if controversy does occur, then this could provide exercise of the indignant muscles of those who love to harp on things and generates oodles of publicity! Or if they wanted publicity without strident controversy, they could issue stamps for famous doo-wop or schmaltzy singers. Or, hey, Eydie Gorme or Dean Martin!

Seriously, I think that Fats Domino rates a stamp!

But let's expand the concept of Icons, and have Great Sex Icons: Surely Jean Harlow, Marilyn Monroe, and Jane Russell deserve stamps, not to mention some of the legendary strippers of the old days. Give some guys a shout too: maybe honor the epitome of manly cool in Robert Mitchum and Steve McQueen! And how about an American Scientists series, much expanded from the one in the 1940's? Or, maybe we could issue a Notorious Outlaws Series -- Who wouldn't like to see Jesse James, John Dillinger, or some of the junk bond traders on stamps? It may be a PG stamp category in the making, but Great American Manure Spreaders would be a great category to honor tabloids, some mainstream newspapers, and members of Congress!

Dr. Tichenor's Antiseptic

Here is an old ad for Dr. Tichenor's Antiseptic, an antiseptic sold in the South Louisiana and Mississippi area, including the label. The Confederate theme came from the fact that it was first developed during the Civil War by a Confederate soldier. Nowadays, sadly, it has a rather plain label.

While it was specifically marketed as an antiseptic, some people drank it as an inexpensive drink or as a way to dodge prohibition laws in some dry counties in Mississippi. In Louisiana, it was regarded merely as a panacea of sorts.

The old radio ads featured a faux Cajun Pete singing jingles like,

"Since he gargled him with Tichenor's,

His voice you cannot drown.

Good ole Dr. Tichenor's,

Best antiseptic in town."  This product still has surprising ads:

Naming Subdivisions

Real estate subdivision developers have something of an arms race going on when it comes to selecting names of their subdivisions. They try to come up with the toniest, most distinguished names possible! Now all is supposed to be fair in war, politics, and real estate; but sometimes subdivision nomenclature reaches absurd heights or depths.

Here are a few that I've encountered: Brookshire, Sheffield Heights, Fartscove, Copper Creek, Vinegaroon, Cypress Mill, Eagle Bluff, Poverty Point, Hunter's Point, Bluffhaven, Bonita Grove, and so on. Obviously, some are seemingly more distinguished than others. Would you really want to live in Fartscove or Poverty Point? Biologically-inclined people might know or discover that a vinegaroon is a nasty spider, lending an ick! association to the place! Hunter's Point might dissuade the animal rights people, and so on.

One property development near Birmingham was named Chateau Manor Estates, coupling no less than three commendatory names in one without including any fourth element that might detract from their splendor! Is that an example of the hat trick in naming something?

Anyway, here are some of the more successful ones in Raleigh: Oakwood, Stonehenge, Briefcreek, Five Points, and North Hills. You will look in vain for a real deal Sequoyah Redwood in Sequoyah Hills, though!

In Knoxville, there's Sequoyah Hills, Fourth and Gill, West Hills, Forest Heights, and Farragut. For some reason known only to them they named a neighborhood after a minor Civil War character.

In New Orleans, there's Lakeview, Metarie, Uptown, Carrollton, Gentilly, and Lake Terrace.

However, real estate people sometimes are an unimaginative lot, and they come up with examples like these. Perhaps they need some creative person's help, as Marianne Moore was supposed to have provided (and ignored) when it came to choose the name of what became known as the Edsel.

For some reason or other, developers feel that using a faux olde tyme spelling adds to the class of the setting:

Feline Bootlegging

Apartment owners with their talented legal help have managed to come up with an amazing number of restrictions built into leases that discourage certain objects or creatures from the rented apartment. One of the most common of which is felis catus, the house cat.

Now there are other no-nos: no making large nail holes (even to hang that huge ikon of Drew Brees), no loud music, no parties after 12 AM, no pot or pot-bellied pigs, no subletting.* Apparently we are supposed to be content with stuffed animals.

I can affirm that Tarheel willfulness and individualism, not to mention a paranoia against rodents, prompts several students to take in bootleg pets. Now usually cats are furtive and keep a low profile. They simply like to be catered to, have a place to sleep, and some time at night to roam. It's only when the queen is in estrus that there's much kitty ado. The smart cat lady servant may park her at the vet's office when this is going on, for the sake of everybody's sleep.

A successful strategy of bootlegging cats requires some knowledge of the habits of apartment owners: do they make regular checkup visits, and why. (One leaser in Baton Rouge came at odd hours of the evening, hoping to see me in my nightie, or maybe to detect a contraband cat!) However, the great mass of apartment owners in student neighborhoods tend to have a laissez-faire strategy for keeping up with things, including repairs. Therefore, by early October, the renters have settled into a comfortable routine of no Gestapo visits by landlords desirous of sticking them with extra penalties or fees, and the feline population of the apartment building has grown to its fullest extent.

However, the feline bootlegger should follow a few tried-and-true means to slip under the radar. (1) No cat litter boxes out in the open in the apartment; (2) No cutesy Louis Wain prints as decorations; (3) Hide your copies of Cat Fancy under other magazines; (4) No Hello Kitty items, even the vibrators. Ooops, especially any Hello Kitty vibrators! [There is such a thing.]

Naturally, apartment renters adopt a conspiracy of silence: no one knows anything about weed, wild parties, or contraband critters! It helps if you're a good ole boy or girl and not standoffish. Go along and get along.

Or you can go the semiferal cat friend route: kitty sleeps and is fed, and is allowed inside on a now-and-then basis. But, that's no fun! And any underage drinking college student is not going to take leaser's rules too carefully. Who knows; buy the time one's senior year rolls around, one might get a pet llama as an apartment mate!

*There is a Sublette County in Wyoming. II suppose subletting is okay there.

A Louis Wain picture of cats playing musical chairs.

Phideaux the Wonder Dog

Phideaux* the Wonder Dog was Tee Boudreaux's pet dog. Now before he went to high school in Terrebonne Parish, little Boudreaux had a lot of time on his hands in between running trap lines and crawfishing, so he trained his dog Phideaux.

Now Phideaux was a scent hound, He was really into scents. As a matter of fact, he lived to smell. He also smelled to others; but it was okay, because he smelled like a dawg!

Doggies can have moments when they embarrass humans, like when they sniff crotches or get overly friendly with legs. Boudreaus knew this, and trained his dog Phideaux to sniff from the other side, but only if someone was wearing a swimsuit.

(Dogs are very trainable. And early teen boys can be single-minded when it comes to mischief. Even the parish priest or the deputy can rein them in.)

Actually, his cousin Marie and his sister Chantal helped too. He would tape a small dog treat in the cleft of their butts to provide Phideaux with a variety of targets to practice on. After thirty trials Phideaux became a skilled butt hound -- ready for the National Trials for Butt-Tracking!

Came the day to reveal the dog's skills! The Boudreaux family went to the Mississippi Gulf Coast for a day of fun and sun, and took Phideaux along. Now Papa and Mama Boudreaux was unaware of Phideaux's skill.

The girls on the beach oohed and ahhed over the cute doggie with the soulful eyes. Phideaux was a chick magnet of sorts, and enjoyed the attention. Then they went on to play a little volleyball on the beach. When they turned the other cheek, ol' Phideaux sprung into action. The second one he snuck up on jumped four feet with a squawk. Not a sexy sound, but when you have been goosed by a dog, your vocabulary is somewhat limited. One of the older Boudreauxes laughed; can you guess which one?

Phideaux did not give all his attention to girls in bikinis; no, he investigated male butts too, including one of a Harrison County deputy.

Phideaux became known as Phideaux the Goose Hound after that!

*Pronounced "Fi-doh."