Fields of Dreams

A hundred years ago, on 11/11 at 11 in the morning, the Treaty of Versailles ended World War One. Through a few iterations, 11/11 eventually became what the United States calls Veterans Day.

If you are privileged to be a citizen of the greatest and freest country on earth, thank a veteran. And please pray for his or her family.

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The first candidate to attract my attention in the 2016 debate was Donald Trump, because he was the first candidate to bring up the serious need to fix deplorable conditions at the V.A. (Very Awful) Veterans Administration.

Please consider:

  • 20 Veterans commit suicide everyday
  • 23% of America’s homeless are veterans
  • Veteran “emergency medical care” is an oxymoron
  • V.A. officials give themselves huge bonuses for doing a terrible job

Here’s the quick, easy, simple way to clean-up that particular swamp bilge water…

My proposed new law: While in office, all elected federal officials (Senators, President, etc.) must receive their personal health care solely through the Veterans Administration, getting the exact same health care veterans receive. No other government health plan allowed. No private health care allowed. It becomes part of their job description. (They work for us, remember?)

The above will fix the V.A. situation quicker than you can say, “No more graft.”

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I like baseball. Although my skills could never be considered more than barely adequate, I played briefly for the Altoona Curve, a Double-A affiliate of the Pittsburgh Pirates. Video of me playing is at the end of this blog post. I turned pro when I was fifteen years old. That’s pro radio DJ, not pro baseball player. Because of geography (where I live or used to live) I’m a fan of the Angels, the Dodgers, the Kansas City Royals, and the Minnesota Twins.

Grain Belt beer sponsored my show on KDWB radio in Minneapolis/St. Paul. (Perhaps illegal, since I was only eighteen.) You may recall Harmon Killebrew, a great Twins slugger who, at the time of his retirement, was second only to Babe Ruth in American League home runs. One afternoon during my radio show, a Grain Belt beer commercial ran and the Twins had a game that night. So, I came out of the commercial saying, “Hey that sounds great. I’m gonna go see the Twins, grab a Grain Belt, and kill a brew.”

Almost got fired.

And the truth is, I didn’t even drink an alcoholic beverage until I was almost 25.

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My wife made a surprise post-World Series present for me. She contacted Dodger Stadium groundskeepers and bought the spit-out sunflower seed shells from all around the dugouts. She used them to stuff a custom-made Dodgers-logo mattress. The shells are still very moist, so it’s like sleeping on a crunchy waterbed. Nevertheless, at my age, I sleep like a baby. Which, of course, means, I suck my thumb and wake up in a wet diaper.

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I was really surprised by the mid-term re-election of Massachusetts Democrat Senator Elizabeth Warren, the wealthy liberal white lady who decided to become part Indian. She arbitrarily changed her ethnicity at both the University of Pennsylvania and Harvard. She even told a story about her parents having to elope because her mother was part Indian.

I don’t get it. Why do people vote for people who lie to them?

Under intense scrutiny, Mrs. Warren finally released a ton of “evidence” to prove that she really is Indian. Yessiree. She proved that  she is 1/1024th Indian. Less than your average white man. I could become more Indian than her by just eating a big plate of Tandoori chicken.

“SORRY TO INTERRUPT, UNK. THIS IS TREVER NUMP REPORTING. ELIZABETH WARREN WAS TALKING FEATHER, NOT DOT. SHE CLAIMED TO BE CHEROKEE.”

Thanks for the clarification, Trever. Well, okay, then… I could become more Indian than Elizabeth Warren by eating a loaf of squaw bread.

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If you’re a new subscriber, you may not know that the entire purpose of the UERT blog is to promote my forthcoming novel, WILD BLUE: Saving the World with Duct Tape and WD-40. You can read a “sneak preview” of Chapter One on the website: http://www.earltrout.com

You can also read a different brief preview below. This is an excerpt from Chapter 52:

Audrey wrapped the hard news segment saying, “Stay tuned for continued SoCal tsunami updates here on channel eight, your tsunami station. But right now, we return you to the Dodgers game, in progress. Go Dodger Blue.”

On high ground, far from the tsunami, Dodger Stadium still had a hot, dry, sunny afternoon in the bottom of the eighth, with a score of thirteen to one, the Dodgers sticking it to the Giants.

As he came out of his wind-up, an ear-piercing thunderclap startled the Giants’ pitcher. He threw the ball straight into the ground in front of the mound. A downpour followed, so heavy, the catcher could not see the pitcher, and fans couldn’t see anything. In less than ninety seconds, water three-feet-deep covered the field.

The TV baseball announcer described the action: “A torrential deluge here at Dodger Stadium has players running for cover. We just looked it up and, this is—officially—the heaviest rainfall in major league history to come in the bottom of the eighth with two outs, a full count, a lefty on the mound, two runners in scoring position, during a day game, prior to the all-star break, with the home team leading by more than nine runs, and neither team having green or yellow in their uniforms.”

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Here’s that link to the video of me playing for the Pittsburgh Pirates AA team. I’m the one in the center of the screen, wearing the gray shirt and Altoona Curve baseball cap. Enjoy. https://youtu.be/l9gEATwG5Oc

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Finis

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