I grew up in the small desert farm town of Blythe, California. Blythe was very isolated because no freeway existed and the nearest town is a hundred miles away. At age fifteen, I became a disc-jockey on the local radio station. The station didn’t mind hiring squeaky-voiced high school kids because… it’s Blythe. Blythians have a reputation for being unsophisticated, uneducated, and unsmart. I am guilty on all three counts.
Happily, my niece Clarabelle, who still lives in Blythe, plans to escape long enough to join all of us at our big Thanksgiving family gathering in Houston this year. I suspect she needs family comforting to soothe her romantic pain. For several years Clarabelle had a boyfriend with a wooden leg, but she broke it off.
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EXCUSE ME, UNK. MAY I CUT IN?
Well, good morning Edseldirt! Ladies and Gentlemen give a warm welcome to our travel reporter, Edseldirt Bumperlink. Whazup, man?
WELL UNK, IT’S NOT EXACTLY TRAVEL, BUT… TRAVEL-RELATED. I GOT A GREAT DEAL ON A TECHNOLOGY-THEFT, CHINESE KNOCK-OFF, MOBILE PHONE LABELED A SAMDUNG MANDROID, WITH ITS OWN HACKED AND RE-NAMED VERSION OF GOOGLE. IT PRODUCES INTERESTING RESULTS. MAY I DEMONSTRATE?
Sure. Go for it.
HEY GERBIL… WHAT IS THE PAST TENSE OF THRIVE?
“. . . THE PAST TENSE OF THRIVE IS CALIFORNIA.”
HEY GERBIL… WHAT IS VENEZUELA?
“. . . VENEZUELA IS A FORMERLY WEALTHY STATE TAKEN OVER BY RADICAL LEFTIST SOCIALISTS WHO DESTROYED THE ECONOMY AND IGNORE ELECTION RESULTS BECAUSE THEY KNOW BETTER THAN THE PEOPLE.”
HEY GERBIL… WHAT IS CALIFORNIA?
“. . . SEE VENEZUELA.”
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UERT readers Loel and her husband Gil emailed me their comments regarding my last blog post, Blind Spots:
“I wish the media, leaders, pastors and all others could read this, or at least learn to confront their attitudes and thinking.
“I wasn’t raised with prejudice. I was surrounded by whites as a small child (guess it’s where you lived). But, I had a black substitute teacher in kindergarten. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell my mom we had a ‘chocolate lady’ for our teacher that day!! Was pretty special to me.
“All through school I had Hispanic friends, and except for their Spanish, I saw no difference. I’ve worked with many wonderful black colleagues. Gil and I have ‘mixed’ grandkids. Their skin color is not important. We love them all. God doesn’t see skin color. We’re all the same without skin. It’s what’s in our hearts that’s important!
“So, we loved Blind Spots. Blessings my friend.”
Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Loel and Gil. Now I have a favor to ask anyone reading this. Please send the link below to everyone you can, especially the media, leaders, and pastors. It may be good for our country and—on a personal level—the publicity may be good for my romantic-comedy novel WILD BLUE: Saving the World with Duct Tape and WD-40. Thank you!
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The following bit of information is not intended to denigrate our 42nd president, William Jefferson Clinton in any way. Aside from his lasciviousness, I thought Bill Clinton was a pretty good President. But, I recently stumbled across this interesting factoid: His actual birth name is not Bill Clinton. His birth name is Bill Blythe!
This is a true thing. (Wonder if we’re somehow related.)
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Home improvement is my personal dysfunctional contribution to our family. I am not a handy man to have around. Seriously. I thought a nail file is where a carpenter keeps supplies. I’m afraid to even imagine what a monkey wrench might be used for.
I did once help my buddy, Kona Jack, install a laminate floor. My job was merely to hit the edge of the planks with a rubber hammer. The only skill required was to move my fingers out of the line of fire, at which I was not successful. My one attempt at clearing a clogged sink created a flood, so I no longer do drain surgery.
Recently, my wife asked me to erect a wall of ceramic tile in our kitchen. I didn’t even try. I am erect tile dysfunctional.
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Democrats are among my family and friends population. We sometimes disagree on solutions, but we’re still buds. (And sometimes drink Buds.) When I refer to “radical liberal leftists”, I’m not talking about your normal, every-day, law-abiding, America-loving Democrat. I’m referring to the communist looney-birds. Recently, some notable folks stated, “I did not leave the Democratic party. It left me.” So… when you read the piece immediately below, please don’t get mad at me. It is not aimed at you.
The star of my novel is Kevin “Oxman” Oxley, a goof-off rocket scientist who makes homemade bumper stickers. He just emailed me his latest:
FIFTY-YEAR HISTORY of the RADICAL LIBERAL LEFT
1969: Radical liberal leftists spit on our soldiers and call them baby killers.
2019: Radical liberal leftists spit on our constitution and kill babies.
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