SOME POLITICAL COUNSEL from my friend, Bob Tinsky in Oblong, Illinois...
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� � � � Have you ever compared two people who were very similar and said the difference between them was like Tweedledum and Tweedledee?� I recently got to wondering, "Where did those names come from?"� I did some research and here is what I discovered.
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� � � � Tweedledum and Tweedledee were characters in the novel written by Lewis Carroll entitled: "Through the Looking Glass".� Some people have erroneously referred to them as brothers but actually they were cousins in the story. � You may recall that Disney made Carroll's book into a movie entitled, "Alice in Wonderland." In the movie there were the two little fat men name Tweedledum and Tweedledee.�
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� � � � Lewis Carroll, however, was the not the originator of this term.� In 1725 a poet by the name of John Byron made fun of two quarreling composers, Handel and Bononcini, and said there was little difference between their music since one went "tweedledum" and the other went "tweedledee."�
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� � � � If you are a fan of Batman you may know that two of the villains in that series were cousins named Deever and Dumfree Tweed.� They were also referred to as Tweedledum and Tweedledee.�
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� � � � The dictionary gives this definition for this expression: "two things or parties that are identical or nearly identical."� Another definition is: "Two groups or two people resembling each other so closely that they are practically indistinguishable."
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� � � � Ani Difranco's 1998 album contains a song entitled: "Fuel."� In it he asks the question: "And I wonder who's gonna be president, Tweedle Dumb or Tweedle Dumber?"�
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� � � � I have written all this to reveal my frustration with the choice we have for president this year.� I am not sold on either candidate and it seems that our choice is between "Tweedledum" and "Tweedledee."� I know there are some differences between the two candidates but I wish there was a stronger contrast between the two. What George Wallace said several years ago is still true: "There is not a dime's worth of difference between the Democrats and the Republicans."� Don't get me wrong.� I certainly was not in favor of Wallace's segregationist policies and feel he leaned too far to the right to suit me.� But there is still some truth to what he said about how little difference there is between the two major parties.
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� � � � As an American I believe it is my patriotic duty to vote.� But I sure do wish we had a better choice than between "Tweedledum" and "Tweedledee."� You may not agree with me.� That's OK.� Let's just pray that whoever gets elected will do a good job as leader of the United States and as the leader of the free world.�

*****

THANKS for your help, Bob -- now back to making decisions...yeah.
THE WORDWRIGHT

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“WELCOME back” to Harry T. Spence of Norwood, Massachusetts, as a guest essayist for THE WORDWRIGHT. Harry expresses himself in his unflinching straightforward manner leaving no doubt as to his personal feelings about those in stardom and their political views of America.

SUSAN SARANDON

The title actress has been of star quality since the mid-80’s. I have enjoyed her performances much. Recently, she made a political statement on the subject of the 2008 Presidential Elections. In short, she said that if John McCain were elected to the office, she would “leave the country,” move to Italy or Canada. My initial response was “Goodbye!”

Miss Sarandon has not been original in respect of her position. I recall that Barbra Streisand and Alec Baldwin made similar statements in earlier presidential contests. So far as I know both are still here. Too bad!

As Yul Bryner’s King of Siam would say, “I have a puzzlement!” Why would play actors believe that anyone could possibly care if they left the country? Maybe they are playing a role: show outrage!

In the United States we have fringe “left-wingers,” and fringe “right-wingers,” read: NUT cases! At one time, in a more realistic time, these “types” would be ensconced in loony bins. But the ACLU got them all out on the streets, so we, the rest of society, must find a way to cope. Perhaps some of the loonies became actors.

This piece, then, is a coping mechanism. I could care less who chooses to leave the United States and live somewhere else. If they can afford it, fine, go do your thing. But, the threats they make. Do they seriously believe anyone cares? I do believe they are serious believers that their “followers” will understand their frustrations and applaud their statements and actions.

So, I ask myself, what is going on here? Basically, it is very simple. These people hate their country. They hate The United States of America! Moreover, they love Cuba, Venezuela, North Korea, North Vietnam, the Soviet Union, Red China, ad infinitum; if any country hates the United States, these lefties love those countries.

Why do you suppose this is? What can have been their experiences that they bear such venom? They all look healthy and they smile a lot (except Alec Baldwin); they dress expensively; they drive expensive foreign cars;they eat in expensive restaurants. It would appear, outwardly at least, that their country has treated them very well. So, why the venom? As I said, it is a puzzlement!

To this point, I have singled out the acting profession. The hating of America goes far beyond just that ilk. It seems rife on college campuses, both at the student and teacher level. This phenomenon is not difficult to understand. Did you ever wonder what became of the radicals of the 60’s and 70’s? They all ended up teaching in our learning institutions of today. Do you suppose any of their radicalism found its way into their teaching of the classics? (Oh, right. They don’t teach the classics anymore.) But, I’m sure you get my meaning. Here they are, facing a roomful of heads full of mush, and who could resist the temptation? Fill the void with your own head full of mush.

Now, in a way, I applaud these ingrates. They are sincere in their hatred and after all they were born here, so don’t they have the right? Yes, they do! But, how about imports, such as George Soros? Where does he get off, bad-mouthing America? In his case, I would say, definitely: “Go back to Hungary (or wherever), we don’t want you!”

Is the United States above criticism? If one looks at the history of the world in the context of what the United States represents, then I say resoundingly: YES! Never, in the history of the planet, has any country, save the United States, tried consistently to better its people's way of life, to help where disaster strikes, produced inventions that have raised the standard of living of countless millions; I could go on, but, I’m sure you get the point.

Has the United States made some mistakes? I guess I’d have to say that such is inevitable. But, they were mistakes! Never, have we used our power except for good. There has never been an Attila or a Hitler or a Stalin or a Mao Tse Tung or a Castro or a Pol Pot or an Idi Amin, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera!

Lately, we hear a lot of: Is there a God? And I respond: There is a U.S. There is indeed a God!

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THANKS for some challenging thoughts, Harry. THE WORDWRIGHT

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THE WORDWRIGHT WELCOMES back his friend in Cincinnati, Ohio, BILL VOLKART

BLUE LAWS 2008
by Bill Volkart
Copyright 2008

In these uncertain times the cost of energy has become a tipping point for most Americans. A do nothing Congress, no new drilling, no new refineries etc. etc. wow. No wonder the price of gas and electricity and lots of other stuff is so high. May a humble citizen of the Realm make a suggestion that no one will like but would certainly work? Bring back the Blue Laws.

Those younger readers may already be googling the term but I will save you the trouble. The original intent of the Blue Laws were dictated by the influence of the church, in a vain attempt to hold onto the concept of 'keeping the Sabbath holy', which dictated that all businesses would close on Sunday. This did not involve services such as hospitals, police, fire and other needed services, just retail mainly. It assured a quiet Sunday when people stayed at home and enjoyed their families and aside from a trip to church, people seldom went anywhere.

Today the same thing without the religious overtones could be applied once again. Imagine the savings in gasoline and electricity taking one day off could do. One seventh of normal gasoline consumption would be largely eliminated, the huge electric demands of shopping centers and strip malls and a thousand smaller retail outlets would cease for a day, saving untold millions of kilowatt hours and the fuel needed to generate said kilowatts. Best of all, people would still have six days to get their business done and be all but guaranteed of a day off once a week. With people all complaining about the lack of free time to unwind and the high cost of energy it seems like a win win situation to me.

Of course the naysayers will be all over this idea with their doom and gloom predictions of business failures, public resistance to not being able to shop on Sunday, ad nauseum. Had the same attitude existed in World War II we would likely be speaking Japanese or German now. You have to have faith that the American people would suffer the pain of having to take a day off once a week and watch TV or grill some burgers. Not so much to ask compared to ration stamps.

I will be the first to admit this simple idea might not work in the modern American society but it costs little to try it and no bureaucracy to run it, all we have to do as a nation is agree to stay home on Sunday and not go to work, shopping or adventuring. Just stay in a nice comfy chair with a cold beer and a ham sandwich (with ham bought one of the other six days) and don't go out. That is all you have to do. Is your life so screwed up that you can't manage to do such a simple thing? I hope not or we are all going to be picking trash piles for scrap metal and uneaten Big Macs.

So what will it be America? Can you manage to take one day off a week to save the life you live on the other six days? Can you find it in your heart to listen to the radio on the front porch drinking lemonade and watching the children play? If you can we might just all get through this with our skins. If not we deserve whatever happens to us. But I for one will not feel guilty if it does. I warned you.

THE WORDWRIGHT SAYS, "THANK YOU, BILL"

MORE ESSAYS BY BILL VOLKART

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HELPER TO MILKMAN – by Bill Venrick (in the middle 1940's)

Remember when? Books and stories are written every day taking us back to yesteryear so why should we at THE WORDWRIGHT be any different? When I was in high school I had a job helping a milkman. My job was simple—in fact so simple, to this day it seems I may have been just a slight extension of energy available to the milkman to go up to every porch and pick up empty bottles and take them back to the truck. I got a whopping 50 cents a day and free milk to drink while on the truck. I just happened to work with brothers – both worked for the Home Dairy and had separate routes which helped me by having a spare route in case one brother was off.

Milk was delivered house-to-house every other day as ice boxes were still in use by some homes while others had refrigerators and milk came in three sizes of bottles: ½ pint, pints and quarts. Chocolate milk and cream were usually reserved for half-pints but cream may have been bottled in pints as well, if my memory is correct. There were no gallon glass jugs delivered when I worked on the milk truck, gallon jugs became popular later when refrigerators became more popular and also stocked and sold at larger stores. Some dairies even bottled what was called Half & Half (half cream and half milk) as a richer milk for cereal. Other dairy products like cottage cheese and butter were delivered to the houses as well.

Back then, milk was sold in glass bottles and the product container had gone through different shapes of bottles. In the winter time these tall bottles often provided a real treat to the first person who brought in the milk – the cream in the top of the bottle would often freeze and push the cap right off the bottle and there was nature's treat: frozen cream! When I worked on the milk truck the dairy I worked for had square shaped bottles and a different cap than the older tall bottles and the winter treat of frozen cream was gone because of the “new idea” of homogenized milk -- a processing method that broke up the cream, thoroughly mixing the cream and milk by shooting it through a very fine nozzle breaking up the fat globules. Then the cream did not separate and rise to the top and thus the milk was creamier. Homogenized milk was touted as being easier to digest.

My job was definitely short-lived for a reason I never gave much thought which was probably a no-brainer—a kid just finds a better job! One experience that sticks in my mind was the time the brakes grabbed on the truck and the milk crates stacked behind us came smashing against the front of the truck breaking bottles all over the place. The shame was the crates involved were buttermilk! Not exactly the most pleasant fragrance to me at the time and my old army field jacket got soaked and bits of broken glass were in my pockets, like forever. Let's face it, “forever” didn't really last long and I got over that job and the spilled buttermilk.

Somehow I envied my buddies who had paper routes and made “real money”, at least compared to the 50 cents a day I made helping the milk truck driver. Later when I got my driver's license I drove a truck for a dry cleaner. Made a good bit more money than the milk route helper's pay for sure.

MY NEWSPAPER ROUTES by Robert J. Tinsky (in the middle 1930's)

When I was only about 9 or 10 years I started selling newspapers on the street corners. My first job as a newsboy was to stand at the end of the street car line and offer papers to people as they emerged from the trolley. This was during the big depression and the newspaper sold for only one cent. Half of that was my profit.

My next job as a newsboy came when I owned my first bicycle. That job required me to ride up and down several streets in the evening selling a newspaper that always had the first page printed on green paper. It was called the Evening Journal. I think it sold for three cents. I was always told the most exciting headline and I would yell this out as I rode along to entice people to come out of their houses and get their hands on the latest bit of news. If something really spectacular happened that day, they would publish an extra edition and I would go up and down the street yelling, “Extra, extra, read all about it” followed by some sentence to persuade people to buy this special edition of the newspaper.
I was probably about 12 years old when I got my first paper route. Each day I would faithfully go to a little shack called “the station” where I would pick up my supply of newspapers. We had a bench in the station just the right height where all the boys could fold their papers before heading out on their routes.

Sundays were the hardest days for me since the newspapers were so large. I had a little wagon that I used to haul the papers home. There I would divide my supply for the day in half so I would not have to carry such a heavy load all at one time. The Sunday papers all had to be delivered before 6:00 A. M. Some people would be on the porch waiting for me to come and they were not very happy if something happened to make the delivery of their Sunday paper late.

I not only had to deliver the paper but I had to collect from them each week. If someone failed to pay, it came out of my profits. Most people, however, were very honest and nice to me and at Christmas time I could expect some nice tips from most of my customers.

Since we lived near a university campus I also had the job of selling newspapers to people on Saturdays after football games. If our team won, I could expect to sell a lot of papers and to receive some big tips. When we lost it was an entirely different story.

We had some big contests to pick up new customers. We earned points for each new customer we signed up and won some neat prizes. The one I remember the best was a live turkey. I will save the saga of that incident for another article.

When my two sons got old enough I felt they should follow in their father’s footsteps, so both had paper routes at different times. Although no one got up and drove me around on Sunday to help deliver the newspaper on cold snowy days, for some reason my boys had it a lot easier than I did since they insisted that Dad had to roll out of bed before dawn on Sunday mornings to help them deliver their newspaper in his heated automobile.

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THE WORDWRIGHT
and his friend, Robert J. Tinsky, in Oblong, Illinois

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