BallPoint, The Beaufort Observer
Allen Ball
June 27, 2009
With the advancement of medical technology comes the prediction that people may live to be 150-years old in the future. Whoop-dee-doo! That's just wonderful! If you live to be 150, instead of having a few nieces and nephews who ignore you, you'll have many nieces, nephews and many great-great-great nephews and nieces who ignore you. And instead of swallowing 14 or more prescriptive medicines a day, like my parents do now, in the year 2005, when you're 150, you lucky scamps, you'll probably be scarfing down 40 a day.
I don't want to live to be 150-years old. Here are a few of the reasons why:
The entertainment world ignores everyone over 30. With the exception of the O, Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack and Norah Jones, in the last four years, what new music is there for adults to listen to. I mean, when was the last time your grandmother bought a Snoop Dog CD? When was the last time you saw your parents boogie down to an Eminem song on the radio? What new movies can they watch at the movie theater?; they are all aimed at a teenagers and people under 30.
I was born in 1948 and I was privileged to witness the Golden Era of pop music, television, and the tail-end of the Golden Era of Hollywood. Today's world of entertainment for adult audiences is pathetic. Thank God for Stephen Spielberg, Woody Allen, and Clint Eastwood who, among a short list of others, make wonderful movies for adults looking for culture and intelligence in cinema. When I grew up the following mega-superstars of music, art, and the silver screen were living: Picasso, Stravinsky, Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Elvis, The Beatles, John Wayne, Cary Grant, Clark Gable, James Stewart, James Cagney, Ava Gardner, Katherine Hepburn, Lucille Ball, Charlie Chaplin, Betty Davis, Ingrid Bergman, Marilyn Monroe .... It was a wonderful time.
With the appearance of Elvis, but more importantly, The Beatles, on the world-wide stage, came a consumption explosion among teenagers. With unparalleled prosperity in America, parents now had more money to dole out to their children so they could "have what we didn't have when we grew up." Young boys and girls and young adults alike started spending millions of dollars on music provided by English musicians and bands that were part of what was dubbed the "British Invasion." The success of The Beatles became the inspiration for not only new British bands but many new American bands, as well. The impact on world-wide culture was phenomenal and everlasting, ushering in and influencing new fashions and styles of dress, new art forms, psychedelic music, the new drug culture, and a "do your own thing" mentality.
Influential singers of protest songs, most prominently Bob Dylan, now had a huge platform from which to address controversial world issues. These artists and their music imbued the younger generation with a sense of empowerment from which grew an activist movement among young people which theretofore had never existed.
That new generation and the ones which have succeeded it have continued to grow significantly in power in terms of how the market place caters to their needs and desires. So, the rest of us old fogies over thirty must resort to listening to our favorite old songs and singers, over and over again, at home and tune in to TCM and AMC on cable-TV to see our favorite old movies with John Wayne, James Cagney, Maureen O'Hara, Sophia Loren ... And, since I already despise 99% of contemporary pop music, 99% of contemporary films and 99% of all television programs, and about 99% of all country music, I can't imagine how repulsive music of tomorrow will be, to me. I cannot fathom what it will be like if I lived another 93 years! to be 150-years old!
Since the 1950s civilians have become increasingly uncivil, forsaking the Christian world for the material world. Jesus slept in the hills, by the rivers and under bridges while present-day televangelists own the hills, build million-dollar homes by the rivers and oceans, and drive BMWs over the bridges.
News broadcaster and commentator Paul Harvey predicted in the early 1990s that, due to the enormous influx of Hispanics, the color of America will be tan, by the year 2050. After 9/11, a militant Muslim, on TV, had the gall to lay the blame of that horrible disaster on the Jews and Americans, proclaiming that, "in 100 years from now, America will be a Muslim nation!
Adapting to cultural changes would be a traumatic experience for any of us who managed to live to the ripe, old age of 150, as the medical community has predicted.
To put it all in perspective, imagine you were born in 1861, the year the civil war began, and you lived to be 150-years old, to the year 2011. You would live through the Civil War, the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, the invention of the telegraph, automobile, airplane, radio, and television. You would live through World War I, the Great Depression, World War II, the development of the atomic bomb, the invention of the computer, the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, Robert Kennedy, Martin Luther King, the first landing on the moon by a manned spacecraft, the Vietnam War, the Persian Gulf War, the destruction of the World Trade Center twin towers, the attack on the Pentagon, the related airline crash in Pennsylvania, the war in Afghanistan, and the War in Iraq (the beginning, if not the end).
From a musical perspective, you will grow up to the songs of Stephen Foster (who died in 1864, three years after you were born) -- songs like "Camptown Races," "Oh, Suzanna," "My Old Kentucky Home," and "Beautiful Dreamer."
You will be 46-years old before Irving Berlin's "Alexander's Ragtime Band," "God Bless America," and "White Christmas" are written. You will be 56 when Igor Stravinsky's controversial Rite of Spring makes its debut in 1917; 63, when George Gershwin debuts his classic Rhapsody in Blue, at Aeolian Hall, at 34 West Forty-third Street, February 12, 1924, and you will be 100-years-of-age before the Beatles appear on the Ed Sullivan show, in the early '60s. You will witness the emergence of jazz, swing, bop, rock, disco, rap, and hip-hop music.
You will hear music from Stephen Foster to music by performers and songwriters Al Jolson, Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, Jerome Kerns, Duke Ellington, Glenn Miller, Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Hank Williams, Sr., Elvis Presley, the Beatles, Michael Jackson, Celine Dion, and Eminem. In 2003, the year country singer Toby Keith becomes a super star, you will be 143-years old, singing along with his big hit "I Like This Bar."
In art you will see the emergence of Picasso and Cubism. In movies and television you will see all the greats from Charlie Chaplin, Orson Welles, James Cagney, Jimmy Stewart, Katherine Hepburn, Lawrence Olivier, Jackie Gleason, Clark Gable, Jack Benny, Judy Garland, Mickey Rooney, Ava Gardner, Betty Davis, and Marilyn Monroe to Julia Roberts, Tom Cruise, Jerry Seinfeld, Tom Hanks, Clint Eastwood, Steve Martin, Paul Newman Barbra Streisand, Robert Redford and Woody Allen.
Politically, you will live through the years from the administration of Abraham Lincoln to the Presidency of George Walker Bush and the first three years of the administration of the man or woman who succeeds him in the White House.
Who needs or wants to live to be 150-years old. Not I; I get tired just thinking about living through all of that. Just give me my 80 years or so -- or as many years as I'm happy and healthy -- and then let me go quietly into the bye and bye.
--From Earthlings Are Crazy As Hell, by Allen Ball-- Saturday, April 16, 2005
Reader Feedback
Life and Death Decisions
July 02, 2009 | 10:45 PM
I wouldn't want to miss the 1940's and the 1950's. I was born in 1935 but I loved the music of the /20's and 30's (heard often because my father was a piano player.) You've outlined my kind of music -- especially my all-time favorite, Bing Crosby. On the issue of living longer, you might want to look at the piece I did for HubPages: http://hubpages.com/_wft/hub/Life-and-Death-Decisions
William F. Torpey
Bing Crosby
June 28, 2009 | 12:55 PM
I enjoyed this article and it's good to see Bing Crosby get some recognition. He was certainly great!
Lachlan
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Monday, July 27, 2009
THE TAUNTING OF THE DADDY-LONG-LEGS
Daddy-long-legs are the most poisonous spiders in the world, however, their mouths are too small to bite humans. So, I taunt them. I taunt them by saying things like: Oooo---big, bad daddy-long-legs, I'm sooo scared. Why don't you bite me? Open that tiny little pie hole and bite me, why don't cha? What? You can't? Could it be that your teenie-weenie pie hole is too teenie-weenie to bite me, O, poisonous one? Come hither! Open wide! Stick them there fangs in me Mr. arachnoid, tough guy. I dare you, spider-brain. I double-dare you. Still can't bite me can you, big daddy? You punk....
Is it true, as they say, that if I pick you up by all of your legs, but one, your free leg will point me in the direction of my lost cattle? It is?! Well, if I had some lost cattle I'd do that.
Fret not, O, big daddy-long-legs; I'm not going to kill you, because I don't want it to rain tomorrow. EARTHLINGS ARE CRAZY AS HELL!, by ALLEN BALL-- Tuesday, July 8, 2003
Is it true, as they say, that if I pick you up by all of your legs, but one, your free leg will point me in the direction of my lost cattle? It is?! Well, if I had some lost cattle I'd do that.
Fret not, O, big daddy-long-legs; I'm not going to kill you, because I don't want it to rain tomorrow. EARTHLINGS ARE CRAZY AS HELL!, by ALLEN BALL-- Tuesday, July 8, 2003
UDAY AND QUSAY
Uday and Qusay were the sons of evil tyrant, and part-time veal cutlet salesman, Saddam Hussein. Although they lived in constant fear of having their testicles removed for the slightest perceived offense against their father, being the sons of a dictator had its perks. They were never punished for raping women and pillaging men, or vice versa; they were never held accountable for cold-blooded acts of murder; and they were never audited. Parking violations were routinely ignored. And, their medical and dental plans were the envy of all Baghdad.
Most of us poor schleps must drop a "twenty" for drinks on a strange woman at a bar, wine and dine a female in a highfalutin restaurant, or sit through a boring evening of a production of La Boheme, before finding out whether or not we're going to get "lucky" at the end of the night. Not so with Messrs. Uday and Qusay. They had only to cruise the streets of Baghdad, in their Kias, to fulfill their lustful desires, selecting the objects of their sexual desire, like picking out guacamole at a produce stand. [ It is interesting, though irrelevant, to note here that sudden outbursts of laughter, by selected partners, during sex, were met with infliction of unspeakable horrors. Comical and derogatory references to "size" were immediately followed by summary execution of the offending party.]
The downside of being the sons of an evil despot included never sleeping in the same bed two nights in a row, living with the ever-present fear of being blown to smithereens, and having to shell out big bucks for things like hiring a "taster" to taste their "Happy Meals" for poison.
Punishment for acts of the sons deemed offensive by the father usually involved not losing privileges, but, instead, entailed either a stern reprimand, a vigorous spanking, or the loss of a testicle or appendage. The latter being a harsh penalty considering the affinity Iraqis develop for their body parts, however unsightly.
In the end, Uday and Qusay met their inevitable fates in a shoot-out with American soldiers in the Northern Iraqi city of Mosul. News reports indicated the bodies of the regime's No. 2 and No. 3 figures were badly damaged and, despite the expenditure of three rolls of duct tape to "patch 'em up", the bodies were still unrecognizable. Several sources, including dental records and stool samples, were needed for conclusive identification because, as one observer stated: "The sum bitches' heads were the size of melons." Pictures of the mangled bodies were taken and 5x7's, 8x10's and wallet-size photos were soon made available for purchase on the internet at Baghdad.com. just in time for the holidays.
Invitations to the funeral service for Uday and Qusay were posted on Iraqi television. Recipients of invitations included members of the Saddam regime, still at large, and Saddam himself. Only two members of the regime showed up, but, then, only after hearing that there would be refreshments.
At the end of the chapel service, an Iraqi man sang a stirring rendition of "For The Good Times", by Kris Kristofferson, accompanied by an old Iraqi woman on the banjo.
The service was followed by the serving of refreshments--hot dogs, potato chips, and Dr. Pepper. Roasted marshmallows, a last minute suggestion by Dr. Ibrahim Al Basri, were included, since Uday and Qusay were being cremated.
--EARTHLINGS ARE CRAZY AS HELL! by ALLEN BALL
Most of us poor schleps must drop a "twenty" for drinks on a strange woman at a bar, wine and dine a female in a highfalutin restaurant, or sit through a boring evening of a production of La Boheme, before finding out whether or not we're going to get "lucky" at the end of the night. Not so with Messrs. Uday and Qusay. They had only to cruise the streets of Baghdad, in their Kias, to fulfill their lustful desires, selecting the objects of their sexual desire, like picking out guacamole at a produce stand. [ It is interesting, though irrelevant, to note here that sudden outbursts of laughter, by selected partners, during sex, were met with infliction of unspeakable horrors. Comical and derogatory references to "size" were immediately followed by summary execution of the offending party.]
The downside of being the sons of an evil despot included never sleeping in the same bed two nights in a row, living with the ever-present fear of being blown to smithereens, and having to shell out big bucks for things like hiring a "taster" to taste their "Happy Meals" for poison.
Punishment for acts of the sons deemed offensive by the father usually involved not losing privileges, but, instead, entailed either a stern reprimand, a vigorous spanking, or the loss of a testicle or appendage. The latter being a harsh penalty considering the affinity Iraqis develop for their body parts, however unsightly.
In the end, Uday and Qusay met their inevitable fates in a shoot-out with American soldiers in the Northern Iraqi city of Mosul. News reports indicated the bodies of the regime's No. 2 and No. 3 figures were badly damaged and, despite the expenditure of three rolls of duct tape to "patch 'em up", the bodies were still unrecognizable. Several sources, including dental records and stool samples, were needed for conclusive identification because, as one observer stated: "The sum bitches' heads were the size of melons." Pictures of the mangled bodies were taken and 5x7's, 8x10's and wallet-size photos were soon made available for purchase on the internet at Baghdad.com. just in time for the holidays.
Invitations to the funeral service for Uday and Qusay were posted on Iraqi television. Recipients of invitations included members of the Saddam regime, still at large, and Saddam himself. Only two members of the regime showed up, but, then, only after hearing that there would be refreshments.
At the end of the chapel service, an Iraqi man sang a stirring rendition of "For The Good Times", by Kris Kristofferson, accompanied by an old Iraqi woman on the banjo.
The service was followed by the serving of refreshments--hot dogs, potato chips, and Dr. Pepper. Roasted marshmallows, a last minute suggestion by Dr. Ibrahim Al Basri, were included, since Uday and Qusay were being cremated.
--EARTHLINGS ARE CRAZY AS HELL! by ALLEN BALL
SCARLETTE
I met Scarlette in the frozen food department of the Piggly Wiggly; and, after thirty minutes of being seduced, by her wit, charm, and beauty, I barely noticed the humongous, hairy mole over her upper lip. She was everything I'd ever wanted in a woman--the rare combination of beauty, intellect, and breasts requiring a 38-D cup. I asked her out.
Dining at my favorite restaurant, "Earl's Eatery", we began to explore one another's past. Scarlette had recently gotten a divorce prompted by the discovery, after coming home early from work one afternoon, that her husband, Winslow Tew, had an inordinate and unnatural fondness for woodchucks.
Winslow swore to Scarlette that the woodchuck meant nothing to him. Scarlette, devastated, departed. All of Tew’s attempts at reconciliation failed. Spiraling into a fit of depression, Winslow made a half-hearted attempt to take his life by watching a 72-hour marathon of televised fishing. Plagued by thoughts of suicide, still, he made a second attempt by staring at a Cubist painting by Picasso until he started mumbling the words to the Canadian national anthem, vehemently demanding a meeting with The Price Is Right host, Bob Barker.
There was a quiet dignity about Scarlette that could not be masked by her go-go boots, hot pants and Led Zeppelin T-shirt. Though Philippine, she had an awe-inspiring command of the English language, albeit her conversation was often peppered with phrases like: "Dis mackeral don't smell right" or "Dat waiter looks queer.”
There was a mutual attraction between us that could only be described as mutual. A chance meeting in a Piggly Wiggly had blossomed into a passion-filled, sexually-charged romance. Our love knew no bounds. Things, however, would soon change. A twist of fate would alter our lives forever --- or at least until Tuesday.
Scarlette, on the fourth night of our relationship, met a banjo player, Seymour Melnick, at a tent revival on the outskirts of town. They carried on a torrid secret love affair behind my back for fifteen minutes in the back seat of his Oldsmobile. Distraught, but determined to move on with my life, I relocated to Lizard Lick, North Carolina and wrote a book on the culinary arts entitled: One Hundred Ways To Cook Bald Eagle.
After much reflection on the tristful turnabout of events in my relationship with Scarlette, I've reached the conclusion that, if there is a moral to my story, it would have to be: Always accompany your wife to a tent revival.
Dining at my favorite restaurant, "Earl's Eatery", we began to explore one another's past. Scarlette had recently gotten a divorce prompted by the discovery, after coming home early from work one afternoon, that her husband, Winslow Tew, had an inordinate and unnatural fondness for woodchucks.
Winslow swore to Scarlette that the woodchuck meant nothing to him. Scarlette, devastated, departed. All of Tew’s attempts at reconciliation failed. Spiraling into a fit of depression, Winslow made a half-hearted attempt to take his life by watching a 72-hour marathon of televised fishing. Plagued by thoughts of suicide, still, he made a second attempt by staring at a Cubist painting by Picasso until he started mumbling the words to the Canadian national anthem, vehemently demanding a meeting with The Price Is Right host, Bob Barker.
There was a quiet dignity about Scarlette that could not be masked by her go-go boots, hot pants and Led Zeppelin T-shirt. Though Philippine, she had an awe-inspiring command of the English language, albeit her conversation was often peppered with phrases like: "Dis mackeral don't smell right" or "Dat waiter looks queer.”
There was a mutual attraction between us that could only be described as mutual. A chance meeting in a Piggly Wiggly had blossomed into a passion-filled, sexually-charged romance. Our love knew no bounds. Things, however, would soon change. A twist of fate would alter our lives forever --- or at least until Tuesday.
Scarlette, on the fourth night of our relationship, met a banjo player, Seymour Melnick, at a tent revival on the outskirts of town. They carried on a torrid secret love affair behind my back for fifteen minutes in the back seat of his Oldsmobile. Distraught, but determined to move on with my life, I relocated to Lizard Lick, North Carolina and wrote a book on the culinary arts entitled: One Hundred Ways To Cook Bald Eagle.
After much reflection on the tristful turnabout of events in my relationship with Scarlette, I've reached the conclusion that, if there is a moral to my story, it would have to be: Always accompany your wife to a tent revival.
LUCRETIA
Lucretia received a thunderous round of applause from the males in the bleachers whenever she performed her high-leg kicks during her debut as a cheerleader for the opening game of the new basketball season at Remo Leatherwood High. A member of the Honor Society and the drama club, Lucretia was a staunch, vocal opponent of "barbaric high-heel shoes" and any kind of restrictive underwear. --"EARTHLINGS ARE CRAZY AS HELL!", by Allen Ball
BEAM ME UP, SCOTTY!
In the late ’70s, a friend of mine, Terry Williams, a fellow musician known for his quit wit and humor, was driving home early one morning, after our band finished playing at "Tom's" in New Bern, North Carolina. In his rear-view mirror Terry saw the flashing blue light of a patrol car signaling him to pull over to the side of the road. The patrolman walked up to the driver's window as Terry rolled it down. "May I see your driver's license?", he asked. After extracting his folding wallet from his pocket, Terry leaned over sticking his head out the window. Looking up toward the heavens, he flipped open his wallet with a quick jerk of his wrist and said: "Kirk to Enterprise! Kirk to Enterprise! Beam me up, Scotty!” The patrolman burst into laughter saying: "Get outta here---and watch your speed!"
BOB
Bob, when told by his new boss, that "Bob" spelled backwards spells "Bob", was not amused and summarily punched his new boss in the nose, knocking him out cold. The arch bishop was then taken by paramedics to the emergency room of the local hospital where his nose was reset and bandaged. --ALLEN BALL, EARTHLINGS ARE CRAZY AS HELL!
CAPTAIN UNDERPANTS
Like most children, my 11-year-old step-son, Cory, hated homework. The disturbing prospect of having to read sent him into a state of gloom and despair. One day, after reading Chapter Four (consisting of only four pages!), in his A&R (accelerated reader) book, he looked at me and said: "I've finished. How much more do you want me to read?" I said: "You really hate reading don't you?" "I like reading Captain Underpants," he replied.
CELEBURTEES
CELEBURTEES
By Allen Ball
Sunday, August 3, 2003
I shor do like celeburtees coz dey is so purtee an ever thang. But I dont much understan sum of dem doe. Dey seem ta like prezidents dat cheet on dair wivs an hate da wuns dat dont. An whin I say cheetin I aint talkin bout havin one gal on da side like ole FDR or ole Ike. Im talkin bout tryin ta hav sex wif ever feemail on da darn planut like dat ole Bill Clintun.
Ya no, a lotta dem celeburtees didunt like Sik Willee jest coz de econumee wuz good dey liked him coz he made em feel good about awl dat sneekin around dey wuz doin on dair own husbunds an wivs. Ya no I kin understan a man slippin up wun time an bein week whin a purty littl thang struts up to him an puts dat thang right up dair under his nose, but I caint respec no man hoos mairreed an got childrins to boot hoo keeps on doin it an hurtin his pore ole wife an childrins over an over an over agin. In de ole daze he wooda got da crap beet outta him by da wifes bruthers or her ole pappy.
But yoo take a guy like ole Jorg W Boosh an dem dair celeburtees like Jorg Cooney, Marvin Sheen, Dannee Clover, Harree Hagman, Janeen Garagalo an Barber Strisan -- dey awl hate dat littl booger. I no sumtimes he haz a hard time sayin what he wants to say an peeple make fun of him for dat, but da boys a good boy. He luvs da Lord an he luvs peeple. So for cryin out loud why in da devil are dey sayin he is lik anuther Hitler an he is a facis like wuz in Italee whin ole Moosaleeny wuz in charg durin Werld War 2. What did dat boy do dat makes dem awl hate him so much?
Hav ya ever notissed how dair is so much moor sex on tellavishun since ole Bill wuz prezident? Ever time I turn da tv on sum yung girls liftin her blowz for ever bodee ta see her breastasis. Mosta dat stuf is on dat dair e chanul on kabul tv. Dey oughta cawl it da c chanul, as in lookee here, c what I got under my blowz. I see da girls a kissin wun anuther an bitin wun anuther on da bee hind. How far are dey gonna go wif it? What is tv gonna be like in tin years? An how bout dat Howord Sternum sho? Is he a perv or what? Yoo jest no he is gonna gro old, lonelee an unhapy by himself. Peeple lik him mess around on dair wivs til dey git old an uglee -- corse he is uglee alredy -- then nobodee wants em excep for dair munny.
I remimber da days whin women wuz modust about dair bodees. Dey woodunt sho a woman frum da neck down on da Jonee Carsun sho if she wuz wairin a low cut dress. Now all dem Holleewood wimen wil sho ever thang dey got for free on tv. Dair boyfrins an husbunds must reely feel good nowin ever bodee an his bruther haz seen his gal necked in da moovies. I wood take one Moreen OHara over tin Jenifer Lowpezes inny day. Now she wuz a woman. A clasee woman. Yoo new she ain't been rode like a race horse by ever guy in da cowntee.
Ya no anuther thang I dont understan is why sum of dem Holleewood peeple luvs dat ole Castrow down dair in Cuber. I meen dey go down dair ta meet da guy an talk about how much dey like him whin da guy haz had peeple killed for years an years an years jest so he kood stay in power. I meen, he is a dick tater for cryin out loud! An ole Dannee Clover hoo stars in awl dose moovies wif Merl Gibsun an ole Kevin Cawsner hoo danced wif a wolf --- dey all luv ole Castrow. I jest dont git it. I meen, dey luv ole Castrow an dey hate ole Jorg.
Ya no, it remines me of sum of dem ole moovees an books bout da royul peeple an da ole dick taters wher dey wuz jest a few of dem in charg an dey ran ever thang. Dey didunt beleeve in relijun, dey jest beleeved in bein in charg an havin a lotta sex an munnee. I meen dey wuz havin sex awl da time wif dair bruthers wivs an dair daddees wivs, dair mades, an sum of dem even had sex wif dair own kinfolk! Dey wood hav sex orgees wher a buncha peeple wood git necked an sexed up wun anuther jest lik dey do on dose daytime sope oprys on da tellavishun. Yoo caint turn on chanul 7, 9 or 12 in da afternoon wifout seein sum bodee necked layin on top of sum bodee else hoo is necked. Grown ups talk about da way yung peeple are havin sex dese daze but awl dey see is grown ups havin sex on tv an in da moovees so why shood dey think dat havin sex wif everbodee an his bruther is rong?
Dem celeburtees liv in a werld of dair own. Dey dont reelies how minny peeple like me think dat dey are so foolish an so stuk up an cunceeted. Dey dont reelies dat we think dat dey are a bunch of sillee no it awls. Its funnee how quik dey git relijun awl of a suddin whin dey git sik or dey git cawt wif dair hand in da til or dey git arested for snortin da kokane or da moovees run out whin dey git old and rinkulled. Its funnee how uncockee dey git whin dey ain't so famus inny moor an de munny aint cummin in like it yoos to.
I remimber da daze whin da celeburtees an da littl guys were awl on da same side. Dey awl pulled togethur for da prezident an da cuntry. Celeburtees lik Bob Hope, Bing Crawsbee, John Wane, Jimmee Stuwert, James Cagnee, Loocille Ball, Carry Grant, Judee Garlund, Jack Binny an a lot moor dat I cain't remimber right now --- celeburtees yoo luved coz yoo felt like dey wuz yore frind not yore enamee. It's sad to no dat dey dont like inny prezident jest coz he is a republican. An it is sad to no dat dey dont care what da prezident duz as long as he is a demacrat. He kin lie to us. He kin hav sex in da clawzit or in da swimmin pool or in da ovul awfis at da white house wif a woman dat aint his wife but its ok if he is a demacrat.
I never thawt I wood liv ta see da day whin so minny peeple in dis cuntry wood hate wun anuther. I never emagined dat peeple wood blame uther peeple whin dey eat to much or smoke to much or drink to much an dey git sik an want sumbodee to pay dem for abusin dair own bodees. An I never thawt da day wood cum whin I wood not like so miny moovee stars coz dey are so imorul an so stuck on dem selfs an think dey no moor dan inny bodee else hoo aint a star or a demacrat.
I shor hope dat Tom Hanks an his wife Reeta are as nice as dey seem. An Merl Gibsun an Tom Sellik an Barbera Wallters an Reegus Filbin an Kirt Russul an Goldee Hawn and Bonnee Hunt. Dey make me feel good whin I see dem.
Celeburtees -- God bless dem coz whin da big un cums dey awl gonna be washed out in to da Pacifik Oshun. I hope dat da nice wuns find a raft or an inner toob or a peece of drif wood to flote on til sum bodee kin cum an git 'em.
Sneed Hearn
Lizard Lick, North Carolina
Written by Allen Ball
Sunday, August 3, 2003
By Allen Ball
Sunday, August 3, 2003
I shor do like celeburtees coz dey is so purtee an ever thang. But I dont much understan sum of dem doe. Dey seem ta like prezidents dat cheet on dair wivs an hate da wuns dat dont. An whin I say cheetin I aint talkin bout havin one gal on da side like ole FDR or ole Ike. Im talkin bout tryin ta hav sex wif ever feemail on da darn planut like dat ole Bill Clintun.
Ya no, a lotta dem celeburtees didunt like Sik Willee jest coz de econumee wuz good dey liked him coz he made em feel good about awl dat sneekin around dey wuz doin on dair own husbunds an wivs. Ya no I kin understan a man slippin up wun time an bein week whin a purty littl thang struts up to him an puts dat thang right up dair under his nose, but I caint respec no man hoos mairreed an got childrins to boot hoo keeps on doin it an hurtin his pore ole wife an childrins over an over an over agin. In de ole daze he wooda got da crap beet outta him by da wifes bruthers or her ole pappy.
But yoo take a guy like ole Jorg W Boosh an dem dair celeburtees like Jorg Cooney, Marvin Sheen, Dannee Clover, Harree Hagman, Janeen Garagalo an Barber Strisan -- dey awl hate dat littl booger. I no sumtimes he haz a hard time sayin what he wants to say an peeple make fun of him for dat, but da boys a good boy. He luvs da Lord an he luvs peeple. So for cryin out loud why in da devil are dey sayin he is lik anuther Hitler an he is a facis like wuz in Italee whin ole Moosaleeny wuz in charg durin Werld War 2. What did dat boy do dat makes dem awl hate him so much?
Hav ya ever notissed how dair is so much moor sex on tellavishun since ole Bill wuz prezident? Ever time I turn da tv on sum yung girls liftin her blowz for ever bodee ta see her breastasis. Mosta dat stuf is on dat dair e chanul on kabul tv. Dey oughta cawl it da c chanul, as in lookee here, c what I got under my blowz. I see da girls a kissin wun anuther an bitin wun anuther on da bee hind. How far are dey gonna go wif it? What is tv gonna be like in tin years? An how bout dat Howord Sternum sho? Is he a perv or what? Yoo jest no he is gonna gro old, lonelee an unhapy by himself. Peeple lik him mess around on dair wivs til dey git old an uglee -- corse he is uglee alredy -- then nobodee wants em excep for dair munny.
I remimber da days whin women wuz modust about dair bodees. Dey woodunt sho a woman frum da neck down on da Jonee Carsun sho if she wuz wairin a low cut dress. Now all dem Holleewood wimen wil sho ever thang dey got for free on tv. Dair boyfrins an husbunds must reely feel good nowin ever bodee an his bruther haz seen his gal necked in da moovies. I wood take one Moreen OHara over tin Jenifer Lowpezes inny day. Now she wuz a woman. A clasee woman. Yoo new she ain't been rode like a race horse by ever guy in da cowntee.
Ya no anuther thang I dont understan is why sum of dem Holleewood peeple luvs dat ole Castrow down dair in Cuber. I meen dey go down dair ta meet da guy an talk about how much dey like him whin da guy haz had peeple killed for years an years an years jest so he kood stay in power. I meen, he is a dick tater for cryin out loud! An ole Dannee Clover hoo stars in awl dose moovies wif Merl Gibsun an ole Kevin Cawsner hoo danced wif a wolf --- dey all luv ole Castrow. I jest dont git it. I meen, dey luv ole Castrow an dey hate ole Jorg.
Ya no, it remines me of sum of dem ole moovees an books bout da royul peeple an da ole dick taters wher dey wuz jest a few of dem in charg an dey ran ever thang. Dey didunt beleeve in relijun, dey jest beleeved in bein in charg an havin a lotta sex an munnee. I meen dey wuz havin sex awl da time wif dair bruthers wivs an dair daddees wivs, dair mades, an sum of dem even had sex wif dair own kinfolk! Dey wood hav sex orgees wher a buncha peeple wood git necked an sexed up wun anuther jest lik dey do on dose daytime sope oprys on da tellavishun. Yoo caint turn on chanul 7, 9 or 12 in da afternoon wifout seein sum bodee necked layin on top of sum bodee else hoo is necked. Grown ups talk about da way yung peeple are havin sex dese daze but awl dey see is grown ups havin sex on tv an in da moovees so why shood dey think dat havin sex wif everbodee an his bruther is rong?
Dem celeburtees liv in a werld of dair own. Dey dont reelies how minny peeple like me think dat dey are so foolish an so stuk up an cunceeted. Dey dont reelies dat we think dat dey are a bunch of sillee no it awls. Its funnee how quik dey git relijun awl of a suddin whin dey git sik or dey git cawt wif dair hand in da til or dey git arested for snortin da kokane or da moovees run out whin dey git old and rinkulled. Its funnee how uncockee dey git whin dey ain't so famus inny moor an de munny aint cummin in like it yoos to.
I remimber da daze whin da celeburtees an da littl guys were awl on da same side. Dey awl pulled togethur for da prezident an da cuntry. Celeburtees lik Bob Hope, Bing Crawsbee, John Wane, Jimmee Stuwert, James Cagnee, Loocille Ball, Carry Grant, Judee Garlund, Jack Binny an a lot moor dat I cain't remimber right now --- celeburtees yoo luved coz yoo felt like dey wuz yore frind not yore enamee. It's sad to no dat dey dont like inny prezident jest coz he is a republican. An it is sad to no dat dey dont care what da prezident duz as long as he is a demacrat. He kin lie to us. He kin hav sex in da clawzit or in da swimmin pool or in da ovul awfis at da white house wif a woman dat aint his wife but its ok if he is a demacrat.
I never thawt I wood liv ta see da day whin so minny peeple in dis cuntry wood hate wun anuther. I never emagined dat peeple wood blame uther peeple whin dey eat to much or smoke to much or drink to much an dey git sik an want sumbodee to pay dem for abusin dair own bodees. An I never thawt da day wood cum whin I wood not like so miny moovee stars coz dey are so imorul an so stuck on dem selfs an think dey no moor dan inny bodee else hoo aint a star or a demacrat.
I shor hope dat Tom Hanks an his wife Reeta are as nice as dey seem. An Merl Gibsun an Tom Sellik an Barbera Wallters an Reegus Filbin an Kirt Russul an Goldee Hawn and Bonnee Hunt. Dey make me feel good whin I see dem.
Celeburtees -- God bless dem coz whin da big un cums dey awl gonna be washed out in to da Pacifik Oshun. I hope dat da nice wuns find a raft or an inner toob or a peece of drif wood to flote on til sum bodee kin cum an git 'em.
Sneed Hearn
Lizard Lick, North Carolina
Written by Allen Ball
Sunday, August 3, 2003
EVIL BANKS
A Note From The Writer:
This is not the country Alexis de Tocqueville spoke of when he said: "America is great because she is good. If America ceases to be good, America will cease to be great." What politicians and government institutions are doing to this country makes me sick. Since it would be ill-advised to slap the politicians or burn down the institutions, I resort
to venting so I won't explode.
*****
BANKS: PARASITES AND LEECHES
He that stoppeth his ears at the cry of the poor, He also shall cry himself, but shall not be
heard. -PROVERBS 21:13I
It was my fault. I switched to "bill pay," on line, with First Citizens bank. It was my fault. I mistakenly made an overdraft, resulting in $459.00 in overdraft fees, in one month! It is my mom and dad's bank account.
Dad, 86, a retired minister, died on July 10th this year. Mama has been sickly for years. Most recently, she had a hemorrhagic stroke. She uses a walker; and I push her in her wheelchair when we leave the house.
My mother raised two boys and two girls while my dad went from town to town preaching, as an evangelist, at any church that invited him. She started
having seizures on Saturday, September 11, 2004. I was there when she had
her first one. After finding her lying face down, immobile, between her bed
and the bedroom wall (she'd been there four or five hours) I made the
decision to watch over my mom and dad for the rest of their lives (I
promised my mom, in the '80s, that she'd never go into a nursing home if I
could help it). As attested by her family doctor, my mom needs
around-the-clock care.
Mom lives on dad's social security: $638.00. After subtracting overdraft
fees for September 2008, she had $179 left to pay bills. Just as a sidebar,
after my brother called me around 10:30 pm one night, in September, to tell
me there was a Hurricane Ike gas-hike scare in town I drove to the Hasty
Mart (where gas was usually available 24-hrs. a day, with a credit card) in
La Grange. I started pumping gas at 11pm or a minute or two past 11, when
the station attendant, after shutting the pumps down, ran out saying that
the station was not allowing 24-hr. service that night. I had already pumped
$.09 worth of gas. My mom's account was billed $35 for that 9-cent purchase!
I talked to Liz Dixon at First Citizens in Pink Hill, where my parents
opened their checking account in 1983. Liz is a nice person and had helped
me in August when a "Free Credit Report" web site billed us for a Credit
Diagnosis account and a Credit Protection Account that I was unaware I had
signed up for. It turned out that the credit report cost was $.99; and
that's how they were able to withdraw money from my mom's account without my
knowledge. It was a scam. Liz removed the overdraft fees after I complained
to the web site and told them to cancel the accounts.
I pleaded with Liz to remove the overdraft fees. She said she could not. I
asked to speak with manager, Steve Oliver, he said he would cancel $175 in
overdraft fees. I sent "Thank You" notes to Mrs. Dixon and Mr. Oliver. I
pleaded further, however because our situation was, and is dire. Our utility
bill alone was $312. Mr. Oliver's attitude from the beginning, I felt, was
one of indifference to my mom's plight. I felt that he felt that I was just
an annoyance. So, I asked who else I could talk to about the matter. He said
I could call Bill Whaley at the main office in Kinston, on Queen St.
Like Mr. Oliver, Bill Whaley, too, had all the compassion of the Berlin
Wall. He assured me that nothing else could be done to help us out.
Banks function according the principle that 'you can make the most money
from the people who can afford it the least' (meaning the average
family). --EDWARD F. MRKVICKA, Jr., The Bank Book (1991). Edward F.
Mrkvicka, Jr. is a former president and CEO of a national bank.
Now here is what really is unconscionable, detestable, and immoral:
How much do they (banks) spend processing an overdraft (OD-overdraft)? Most
bank cost-analysis surveys indicate a cost of 35 cents to 75 cents. I
believe it's closer to a dollar, based on the following:
Computer cost per OD (overdraft) $0.25
Employee's processing cost 0.46
Mailing cost of OD notice 0.29
(*Mailing cost is now $0.41) $1.00
--EDWARD F. MRKVICKA, Jr., The Bank Book (1991).
He that oppresseth the poor to increase his riches, and he that giveth to the rich,
shall surely come to want.
-PROVERBS 22:16
"The order in which banks process checks and other debits determines the
overdraft fees they charge. Those fees make up 90% of service charges on
deposit accounts, and they're expected to yield a record $53.1 billion for
financial institutions this year, research firm Moebs Services says.
--Smart Banking, MARC HEDLUND, USA TODAY
I would say that if your bank is making money off of you by waiting for you
to make a mistake or have a bad month, they're not looking out for your best
interests. --Smart Banking, MARC HEDLUND, USA TODAY
He that oppresseth the poor reproacheth His Maker: But he that honoreth Him hath mercy on the Poor. ---PROVERBS 14:31
Dixon, Oliver, and Whaley all said they didn't know the bank cost of
processing overdrafts. Well, they are lying or they're ignorant of and
uninformed about, the largest source of bank revenue: overdraft fees. I don't
believe they are bad people, however; in their tacit approval of wrong, they
are complicit in wrongdoing.
Now that you know the truth, you also know that the motto of First Citizens
Bank--"We value relationships" --is only empty rhetoric and hypocrisy. The
only thing First Citizens Bank and all the other banking institutions care
about is the relationship they have with your overdraft fees.
From Earthlings Are Crazy, by Allen Ball.
© Copyright ALLEN BALL ENTERPRISES 2008
This is not the country Alexis de Tocqueville spoke of when he said: "America is great because she is good. If America ceases to be good, America will cease to be great." What politicians and government institutions are doing to this country makes me sick. Since it would be ill-advised to slap the politicians or burn down the institutions, I resort
to venting so I won't explode.
*****
BANKS: PARASITES AND LEECHES
He that stoppeth his ears at the cry of the poor, He also shall cry himself, but shall not be
heard. -PROVERBS 21:13I
It was my fault. I switched to "bill pay," on line, with First Citizens bank. It was my fault. I mistakenly made an overdraft, resulting in $459.00 in overdraft fees, in one month! It is my mom and dad's bank account.
Dad, 86, a retired minister, died on July 10th this year. Mama has been sickly for years. Most recently, she had a hemorrhagic stroke. She uses a walker; and I push her in her wheelchair when we leave the house.
My mother raised two boys and two girls while my dad went from town to town preaching, as an evangelist, at any church that invited him. She started
having seizures on Saturday, September 11, 2004. I was there when she had
her first one. After finding her lying face down, immobile, between her bed
and the bedroom wall (she'd been there four or five hours) I made the
decision to watch over my mom and dad for the rest of their lives (I
promised my mom, in the '80s, that she'd never go into a nursing home if I
could help it). As attested by her family doctor, my mom needs
around-the-clock care.
Mom lives on dad's social security: $638.00. After subtracting overdraft
fees for September 2008, she had $179 left to pay bills. Just as a sidebar,
after my brother called me around 10:30 pm one night, in September, to tell
me there was a Hurricane Ike gas-hike scare in town I drove to the Hasty
Mart (where gas was usually available 24-hrs. a day, with a credit card) in
La Grange. I started pumping gas at 11pm or a minute or two past 11, when
the station attendant, after shutting the pumps down, ran out saying that
the station was not allowing 24-hr. service that night. I had already pumped
$.09 worth of gas. My mom's account was billed $35 for that 9-cent purchase!
I talked to Liz Dixon at First Citizens in Pink Hill, where my parents
opened their checking account in 1983. Liz is a nice person and had helped
me in August when a "Free Credit Report" web site billed us for a Credit
Diagnosis account and a Credit Protection Account that I was unaware I had
signed up for. It turned out that the credit report cost was $.99; and
that's how they were able to withdraw money from my mom's account without my
knowledge. It was a scam. Liz removed the overdraft fees after I complained
to the web site and told them to cancel the accounts.
I pleaded with Liz to remove the overdraft fees. She said she could not. I
asked to speak with manager, Steve Oliver, he said he would cancel $175 in
overdraft fees. I sent "Thank You" notes to Mrs. Dixon and Mr. Oliver. I
pleaded further, however because our situation was, and is dire. Our utility
bill alone was $312. Mr. Oliver's attitude from the beginning, I felt, was
one of indifference to my mom's plight. I felt that he felt that I was just
an annoyance. So, I asked who else I could talk to about the matter. He said
I could call Bill Whaley at the main office in Kinston, on Queen St.
Like Mr. Oliver, Bill Whaley, too, had all the compassion of the Berlin
Wall. He assured me that nothing else could be done to help us out.
Banks function according the principle that 'you can make the most money
from the people who can afford it the least' (meaning the average
family). --EDWARD F. MRKVICKA, Jr., The Bank Book (1991). Edward F.
Mrkvicka, Jr. is a former president and CEO of a national bank.
Now here is what really is unconscionable, detestable, and immoral:
How much do they (banks) spend processing an overdraft (OD-overdraft)? Most
bank cost-analysis surveys indicate a cost of 35 cents to 75 cents. I
believe it's closer to a dollar, based on the following:
Computer cost per OD (overdraft) $0.25
Employee's processing cost 0.46
Mailing cost of OD notice 0.29
(*Mailing cost is now $0.41) $1.00
--EDWARD F. MRKVICKA, Jr., The Bank Book (1991).
He that oppresseth the poor to increase his riches, and he that giveth to the rich,
shall surely come to want.
-PROVERBS 22:16
"The order in which banks process checks and other debits determines the
overdraft fees they charge. Those fees make up 90% of service charges on
deposit accounts, and they're expected to yield a record $53.1 billion for
financial institutions this year, research firm Moebs Services says.
--Smart Banking, MARC HEDLUND, USA TODAY
I would say that if your bank is making money off of you by waiting for you
to make a mistake or have a bad month, they're not looking out for your best
interests. --Smart Banking, MARC HEDLUND, USA TODAY
He that oppresseth the poor reproacheth His Maker: But he that honoreth Him hath mercy on the Poor. ---PROVERBS 14:31
Dixon, Oliver, and Whaley all said they didn't know the bank cost of
processing overdrafts. Well, they are lying or they're ignorant of and
uninformed about, the largest source of bank revenue: overdraft fees. I don't
believe they are bad people, however; in their tacit approval of wrong, they
are complicit in wrongdoing.
Now that you know the truth, you also know that the motto of First Citizens
Bank--"We value relationships" --is only empty rhetoric and hypocrisy. The
only thing First Citizens Bank and all the other banking institutions care
about is the relationship they have with your overdraft fees.
From Earthlings Are Crazy, by Allen Ball.
© Copyright ALLEN BALL ENTERPRISES 2008
I WANT ...
I want every member of Congress who’s jerking us around, to be jerked out of office--and that also applies the President of the United States. I'm sick and tired of Barack Obama, Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, John Kerry, Chuck Schumer, and the rest of the democrats and republicans, who put party before country; who lie, who cheat, who are unfaithful to their wives, children and constituents. I want to snatch a knot in their heads.
I want term limits for all of the bums in Congress. I want their pay docked, for every day they go into the Capitol building and do nothing!
I want to kick Barbara Boxer in the seat of the pants, for reprimanding a courageous American General, on national television, for calling her "mam".
I want the American people, not the politicians in Congress, to decide whether or not members of Congress should get a pay raise. The only raise I want them to get is the one they'll get when I kick them in the seat of the pants. They should not receive raises collectively; they should be given raises, individually, based on merit.
I want philandering Republican Governor Sanford to catch a plane back to, and stay, wherever he went, for six years, to have sex with that floozy who, like himself, does not recognize, nor respect, the sanctity of marriage.
I want you to know that I'm sick and tired of seeing Obama on television every time I turn it on. If he wants to be on television all the time he should audition for a reality show or a soap opera on TV.
I want to see Rush Limbaugh, Newt Gingrich, Fred Thompson, and Sarah Palin in the Oval office.
I want a National Day of No Complaints, established to recognize the beautiful, healing, restorative power of not complaining every freekin‘ minute of every freekin‘ day!. I've heard minorities complain until I feel like freekin’ throwing up ---- on them!
I want you to know that one of my best friends in the army was a black piano player, in the band I played with at the El Morocco Kasbah Lounge, on Bragg Blvd., in Fayetteville, N.C., in 1969. I gave him a ride home from the club many nights.
I want you to know that I am not a racist; and I have never been a racist. I love black people. I love all "ese's": the Japanese, Chinese, Vietnamese, and Pekinese. I love all the "cans": the Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Africans, Texicans, and pecans.
I want you to know that my ancestors never owned slaves; but they WORKED like slaves. In the 1920's, my widowed grandmother told her four boys to stay in the house, on a Saturday, while she walked down the dirt road, in front of her house, looking for work to earn money to feed them.
I want you to know that my daddy and his brothers were placed in homes until my grandmother could afford to bring them back home. Where my dad stayed, the husband forced my dad to do chores and the sorry-excuse-for-a-human being beat the living hell out of my dad---a lonely, frightened, dispossessed 9-year-old away from home and everyone he loved. While carrying two pales of milk, that my dad had just milked from a cow, a dog ran up from behind and started licking the milk. For that, my dad received another beating from this beautiful human being.
I want to line our southern border with half-starved pitbulls, Rottweilers, and German Shepherds and watch illegal aliens try to cross over into the United States.
I want to tar and feather the next jerk who makes another stupid, hate-filled remark about Sarah Palin and her children.
I want to know that, like the Tin Man, in The Wizard of Oz, David Letterman, too, will someday find a heart.
I want you to know what I think about the latest feel-good cause. Go green? Go suck on a pine tree!
I want you to know that Halle Berry is freekin' beautiful. Michelle Obama freekin' ain't!
I want you to know that Nancy Pelosi always looks nervous like a chihauhau that just got its gonads slammed with a screen door.
I want you to know that Michelle Obama should spend the hundreds of dollars she spends on single meals, in hotels, on a decent dress.
I want Al Gore to shut up about global warming. Global warming? Ask some of the people in areas of the U.S. where they've experienced record-breaking low temperatures in winter. They'll tell Al Gore and Obama where they can stick their globes.
I want to meet a politician with that rarest of traits---humility.
I want to hear a minister pray to God instead of to the congregation.
I want to see, just for the heck of it, Barack Obama’s birth certificate.
I want to, uh, see, uh, President, uh, Obama, uh, make a speech, uh, without, uh, a teleprompter, uh.
I want to live long enough to see another phenomenom like Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, the Beatles, and Michael Jackson.
I want to see a comedian, like Jack Benny, Red Skelton, and Johnny Carson (who were as funny as funny gets), who doesn’t use rapid-fire expletives every time he opens his mouth.
I want to see all the members of ACORN in a nut vise.
I want to see a cure for cancer, in my lifetime.
I want to sit in a doctors waiting room and see a well-mannered child. One who’s not tossing toys across the room, not screaming, and not walking, ceaselessly, throughout the waiting room, touching everything and everyone in sight.
I want to see more parents acting like adults rather than acting like their children.
I want to see a modern movie without the name of the Lord taken in vain---over and over and over and over.
I want to thank Glenn Beck and ask God to bless him for the work he is doing to (1) expose Obama's campaign and determination to make America a Socialist nation, (2) to expose the corruption of ACORN, (3) to try return America back to the way it was before Obama and the democrats starting turning it upside by grabbing power through stimulus packages, and (4) to spread the word that Obama is doling huge amounts of money and favors to the same businesses that made large donations to his presidential campaign.
I want to see Obama do one thing to make me believe that he is, as he has claimed, a Christian.
I want to see Obama go to church, just once, when he is not campaigning for an office.
I want to know if the people who opened their purse strings to pay for Obama’s Harvard education are now pulling HIS strings.
I want people -- especially young people -- to stop looking -- every four years --for a pop-star celebrity to be the President of the United States. Celebrities make bad celebrities for goodness sake! And you want one as your president?!
I want you to know that our government could not care less than it does about us, the American people. If it did, it would not allow Sonia Sotomayor to become a Supreme Court justice, after the many revelations of her hateful, bullying behavior and racist speech on the bench.
I want you to know that, if we could convert Sonia Sotomayor’s rapid eye-blinking, while she’s lying to the country, into electricity, we could power New York City for a week.
I want to follow the lead of black Americans, in creating a (1) Miss White America pageant (like the Miss Black America pageant), (2) a WET network (White Entertainment Television network, like the BET network (Black Entertainment network), (3) a White History Month, like the Black History Month, and lastly, (5) a national shut-down-the-government-for-a-day holiday, for a person of color-- a white person--like Michael Jackson, or George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, currently celebrated annually, with mattress sales. Or how about that white slacker Albert Einstein (gained US citizenship, in 1940), or slain John Fitzgerald Kennedy and Robert Kennedy. Maybe Ronald Reagan who is responsible, in part, for the fall of the Berlin Wall. What about Audie Murphy, most decorated soldier in America history. Let us have one, please, pretty please.
I want to thank all the girls I’ve loved, who loved me in return.
I want to thank all of the musicians and singers, with whom I’ve shared the love of music, with whom I’ve played music, throughout the years.
I want to thank God for my parents, sisters, and brother, and my extended family of relatives, who love/loved me unconditionally.
I want to thank my parents and grandparents for instilling in me a love, concern, compassion, and respect, for my fellow man.
I want to thank God for giving me the sweetest mother in the world.
And --- I, Allen Ball, want to thank you all -- the readers of my column. Though we may not often agree, I still love you, brothers and sisters, of this planet called earth, in the Spirit of God Almighty. Atheists won’t understand this. It is part of the heritage of the righteous.
© Copyright ALLEN BALL ENTERPRISES 2009
I want term limits for all of the bums in Congress. I want their pay docked, for every day they go into the Capitol building and do nothing!
I want to kick Barbara Boxer in the seat of the pants, for reprimanding a courageous American General, on national television, for calling her "mam".
I want the American people, not the politicians in Congress, to decide whether or not members of Congress should get a pay raise. The only raise I want them to get is the one they'll get when I kick them in the seat of the pants. They should not receive raises collectively; they should be given raises, individually, based on merit.
I want philandering Republican Governor Sanford to catch a plane back to, and stay, wherever he went, for six years, to have sex with that floozy who, like himself, does not recognize, nor respect, the sanctity of marriage.
I want you to know that I'm sick and tired of seeing Obama on television every time I turn it on. If he wants to be on television all the time he should audition for a reality show or a soap opera on TV.
I want to see Rush Limbaugh, Newt Gingrich, Fred Thompson, and Sarah Palin in the Oval office.
I want a National Day of No Complaints, established to recognize the beautiful, healing, restorative power of not complaining every freekin‘ minute of every freekin‘ day!. I've heard minorities complain until I feel like freekin’ throwing up ---- on them!
I want you to know that one of my best friends in the army was a black piano player, in the band I played with at the El Morocco Kasbah Lounge, on Bragg Blvd., in Fayetteville, N.C., in 1969. I gave him a ride home from the club many nights.
I want you to know that I am not a racist; and I have never been a racist. I love black people. I love all "ese's": the Japanese, Chinese, Vietnamese, and Pekinese. I love all the "cans": the Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Africans, Texicans, and pecans.
I want you to know that my ancestors never owned slaves; but they WORKED like slaves. In the 1920's, my widowed grandmother told her four boys to stay in the house, on a Saturday, while she walked down the dirt road, in front of her house, looking for work to earn money to feed them.
I want you to know that my daddy and his brothers were placed in homes until my grandmother could afford to bring them back home. Where my dad stayed, the husband forced my dad to do chores and the sorry-excuse-for-a-human being beat the living hell out of my dad---a lonely, frightened, dispossessed 9-year-old away from home and everyone he loved. While carrying two pales of milk, that my dad had just milked from a cow, a dog ran up from behind and started licking the milk. For that, my dad received another beating from this beautiful human being.
I want to line our southern border with half-starved pitbulls, Rottweilers, and German Shepherds and watch illegal aliens try to cross over into the United States.
I want to tar and feather the next jerk who makes another stupid, hate-filled remark about Sarah Palin and her children.
I want to know that, like the Tin Man, in The Wizard of Oz, David Letterman, too, will someday find a heart.
I want you to know what I think about the latest feel-good cause. Go green? Go suck on a pine tree!
I want you to know that Halle Berry is freekin' beautiful. Michelle Obama freekin' ain't!
I want you to know that Nancy Pelosi always looks nervous like a chihauhau that just got its gonads slammed with a screen door.
I want you to know that Michelle Obama should spend the hundreds of dollars she spends on single meals, in hotels, on a decent dress.
I want Al Gore to shut up about global warming. Global warming? Ask some of the people in areas of the U.S. where they've experienced record-breaking low temperatures in winter. They'll tell Al Gore and Obama where they can stick their globes.
I want to meet a politician with that rarest of traits---humility.
I want to hear a minister pray to God instead of to the congregation.
I want to see, just for the heck of it, Barack Obama’s birth certificate.
I want to, uh, see, uh, President, uh, Obama, uh, make a speech, uh, without, uh, a teleprompter, uh.
I want to live long enough to see another phenomenom like Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, the Beatles, and Michael Jackson.
I want to see a comedian, like Jack Benny, Red Skelton, and Johnny Carson (who were as funny as funny gets), who doesn’t use rapid-fire expletives every time he opens his mouth.
I want to see all the members of ACORN in a nut vise.
I want to see a cure for cancer, in my lifetime.
I want to sit in a doctors waiting room and see a well-mannered child. One who’s not tossing toys across the room, not screaming, and not walking, ceaselessly, throughout the waiting room, touching everything and everyone in sight.
I want to see more parents acting like adults rather than acting like their children.
I want to see a modern movie without the name of the Lord taken in vain---over and over and over and over.
I want to thank Glenn Beck and ask God to bless him for the work he is doing to (1) expose Obama's campaign and determination to make America a Socialist nation, (2) to expose the corruption of ACORN, (3) to try return America back to the way it was before Obama and the democrats starting turning it upside by grabbing power through stimulus packages, and (4) to spread the word that Obama is doling huge amounts of money and favors to the same businesses that made large donations to his presidential campaign.
I want to see Obama do one thing to make me believe that he is, as he has claimed, a Christian.
I want to see Obama go to church, just once, when he is not campaigning for an office.
I want to know if the people who opened their purse strings to pay for Obama’s Harvard education are now pulling HIS strings.
I want people -- especially young people -- to stop looking -- every four years --for a pop-star celebrity to be the President of the United States. Celebrities make bad celebrities for goodness sake! And you want one as your president?!
I want you to know that our government could not care less than it does about us, the American people. If it did, it would not allow Sonia Sotomayor to become a Supreme Court justice, after the many revelations of her hateful, bullying behavior and racist speech on the bench.
I want you to know that, if we could convert Sonia Sotomayor’s rapid eye-blinking, while she’s lying to the country, into electricity, we could power New York City for a week.
I want to follow the lead of black Americans, in creating a (1) Miss White America pageant (like the Miss Black America pageant), (2) a WET network (White Entertainment Television network, like the BET network (Black Entertainment network), (3) a White History Month, like the Black History Month, and lastly, (5) a national shut-down-the-government-for-a-day holiday, for a person of color-- a white person--like Michael Jackson, or George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, currently celebrated annually, with mattress sales. Or how about that white slacker Albert Einstein (gained US citizenship, in 1940), or slain John Fitzgerald Kennedy and Robert Kennedy. Maybe Ronald Reagan who is responsible, in part, for the fall of the Berlin Wall. What about Audie Murphy, most decorated soldier in America history. Let us have one, please, pretty please.
I want to thank all the girls I’ve loved, who loved me in return.
I want to thank all of the musicians and singers, with whom I’ve shared the love of music, with whom I’ve played music, throughout the years.
I want to thank God for my parents, sisters, and brother, and my extended family of relatives, who love/loved me unconditionally.
I want to thank my parents and grandparents for instilling in me a love, concern, compassion, and respect, for my fellow man.
I want to thank God for giving me the sweetest mother in the world.
And --- I, Allen Ball, want to thank you all -- the readers of my column. Though we may not often agree, I still love you, brothers and sisters, of this planet called earth, in the Spirit of God Almighty. Atheists won’t understand this. It is part of the heritage of the righteous.
© Copyright ALLEN BALL ENTERPRISES 2009
ELITISTS ARE GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF US ALL
ELITISTS ARE GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF US ALL!
This is America Hispanic dude and dudette. Speak English! Me no understand. Me no speaky Spanish.
If America is a Muslim nation, Mr. Obama, I want to see some of your Muslim buddies enlisting in the United States Army, fighting for America, instead of trying to blow her to shreds.
Nancy (Chihauhau) Pelosi: Did you really say?: “You don’t need God; you have the democrats now.”
Shame on you, Sen. Barney Frank, for your complicity in forcing banks to give loans to unqualified applicants. Oh, by the way, how’s that thang going on with your boyfriend at Freddie Mac. Ya’ll still gittin’ it on?
Oh, shame on you, Johnny, ye embarrassed your fellow North Carolinians, didn’t you? You smug, arrogant, little twit. How’s the hair thing going?
Brian Williams …. the way you fawn over Obama. Why don’t you just ask him if he wants to get a room?
Oh, and Charlie Gibson. I still cannot forget or forgive the condescending arrogance you displayed while interviewing Sarah Palin. You’re the kind of prissy, eye-glasses-on the-tip-of-your-nose guy who, in a John Wayne movie, would have been punched out by John Wayne before the beginning credits stopped rolling.
David Letterman. Your mama seems sweet. What the hell happened to you?
Okay. I love you guys who voted for Obama. I really do. But don’t the recent revelations about the insidious criminal activities of ACORN and Obama’s silence on the issue give you pause --- and a tinge of regret?
I believe in term limits for politicians. How does “One-Term Obama” sound?
O.K. you all-knowing, Conservative-bashing liberals. You never did shut up about Bush’s so-called “arrogance“. Well, he got nuthin’ on Barack Obama when it come’s to arrogance, conceit, and swagger.

Check me hat out, mon, and me ciggy, mon. And the dainty
way me holds me ciggy, mon.
Mr. Obama. If you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen. You just can’t take criticism -- you spoiled brat! It’s tit for tat, with you, Sean Hannity, Rush Limbaugh, and South Carolina Sen. Jim DeMint. Got to thicken that skin, Bro.
O.K. Barack. I’m willing to accept any healthcare plan you propose, if you, Michelle, the kiddies, and members of Congress are on it, too. If I gotta wait a year for cancer treatment; you gotta wait, too.
You doofuses in Congress remind me of the movie: Revenge of the Nerds.
Funny how the alchemy of time alters one’s perception. Edward Ted Kennedy, once remembered for the Chappaquiddick incident involving Kennedy and his companion Mary Jo Kopechne in 1969, is now regarded as a kindly, old, respected patriarch, and liberal icon. God bless Sen. Kennedy, but remember: Chappaquiddick was part of a story that attracted international notoriety on July 17, 1969 when the dead body of Mary Jo Kopechne was discovered inside an overturned car in a channel on the island. The car belonged to Senator Kennedy, who did not report the incident to police authorities until the following morning. Kopechne's body was recovered from the submerged vehicle, and Kennedy entered a plea of guilty to a charge of "leaving the scene of an accident after causing injury." He received a sentence of two months in jail. The sentence was suspended.
Mr. Pres-o-dent. When, if ever, will members of Congress be allowed to read new thousand-page legislation before you sign it into law? And when will you follow through on your promise to post proposed legislation on the internet for all of your loyal minions to peruse. And when will you learn to throw a baseball like a guy?
Let me be the first to express my sentiments to Osama (towel-head) Bin Laden, on the death of his son, Saad Bin Laden. Good riddance! Monkey-boy! Sayonara! Terrorist dead guy! Ariverderce! Beaver-face! Could-a told ya there’d be no virgins waitin’ for ye … you stupid son-of-a gun!
We live in a truly crazy world my friends. Read the following:
“Animals should be permitted to bring suit, with human beings as their representatives, to prevent violations of current law … Any animals that are entitled to bring suit would be represented by (human) counsel, who would owe guardian like obligations and make decisions, subject to those obligations, on their clients’ behalf….Hence some people urge that certain animals, at least, are persons, not property, and that they should have many of the legal rights that human beings have. Of course this does not mean that those animals can vote or run for office.”
The previous excerpt is from The Rights of Animals: A Very Short Primer, 2002, by Obama’s newly appointed “regulatory” Czar, Cass R. Sunstein. Sunstein is an extreme “progressive,” a socialist, and an adversary of the U.S. Constitution as actually written; an Animal Rights activist, extremist, and an idiot!. He has argued in favor of bans on animal cosmetics testing, hunting, greyhound racing, and meat-eating!
Another wing-nut, Van Jones, Obama’s Green Jobs Czar is a racist Communist? If you take him at his word he is. His official title is Special Advisor on Green Jobs, Enterprise and Innovation for the White House Council on Environmental Equality.
Jones was a founder and leader of the communist revolutionary organization Standing Together to Organize a Revolutionary Movement, or STORM. That organization had its roots in a grouping of black people organizing to protest the first Gulf War. STORM was formally founded in 1994, becoming one of the most influential and active radical groups in the San Francisco Bay area.
My friends, your No. 1 consideration for supporting or opposing Obama’s healthcare plan should be: Will you receive treatment for cancer and other life-threatening illnesses in time to save your life. Listen to what Europeans and Canadians have to say about their healthcare---healthcare like Obama is proposing---before you make a decision to support Obama’s plan.
Obama‘s health plan is not about healthcare. It’s about control.
We, the American people, need to act now, before it’s too late. We need to propose legislation to prevent the institutionalization of nut bars like Harry Reid, Nancy Pelosi, Ted Kennedy and Robert Byrd, in Congress: we need term limits. We need to control the performance of Congressmen by controlling their purse strings. No work! No pay! We need to propose legislation that disallows special perks Congressmen enjoy, such as (1) automobiles provided (their choice of auto) for Congressmen at expense of taxpayers, and (2) obscene lifetime pensions.
Lastly, some nimrods are now proposing that warning labels now be put on hot dogs, like cigarettes. I know what goes into hot dogs! I love hot dogs! Leave my freekin’ hot dogs alone! Is nothing in the world sacred anymore?
See you in the by and by.
Written by: Allen Ball
Thursday, July 23, 2009
© Copyright ALLEN BALL ENTERPRISES 2009
This is America Hispanic dude and dudette. Speak English! Me no understand. Me no speaky Spanish.
If America is a Muslim nation, Mr. Obama, I want to see some of your Muslim buddies enlisting in the United States Army, fighting for America, instead of trying to blow her to shreds.
Nancy (Chihauhau) Pelosi: Did you really say?: “You don’t need God; you have the democrats now.”
Shame on you, Sen. Barney Frank, for your complicity in forcing banks to give loans to unqualified applicants. Oh, by the way, how’s that thang going on with your boyfriend at Freddie Mac. Ya’ll still gittin’ it on?
Oh, shame on you, Johnny, ye embarrassed your fellow North Carolinians, didn’t you? You smug, arrogant, little twit. How’s the hair thing going?
Brian Williams …. the way you fawn over Obama. Why don’t you just ask him if he wants to get a room?
Oh, and Charlie Gibson. I still cannot forget or forgive the condescending arrogance you displayed while interviewing Sarah Palin. You’re the kind of prissy, eye-glasses-on the-tip-of-your-nose guy who, in a John Wayne movie, would have been punched out by John Wayne before the beginning credits stopped rolling.
David Letterman. Your mama seems sweet. What the hell happened to you?
Okay. I love you guys who voted for Obama. I really do. But don’t the recent revelations about the insidious criminal activities of ACORN and Obama’s silence on the issue give you pause --- and a tinge of regret?
I believe in term limits for politicians. How does “One-Term Obama” sound?
O.K. you all-knowing, Conservative-bashing liberals. You never did shut up about Bush’s so-called “arrogance“. Well, he got nuthin’ on Barack Obama when it come’s to arrogance, conceit, and swagger.

Check me hat out, mon, and me ciggy, mon. And the dainty
way me holds me ciggy, mon.
Mr. Obama. If you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen. You just can’t take criticism -- you spoiled brat! It’s tit for tat, with you, Sean Hannity, Rush Limbaugh, and South Carolina Sen. Jim DeMint. Got to thicken that skin, Bro.
O.K. Barack. I’m willing to accept any healthcare plan you propose, if you, Michelle, the kiddies, and members of Congress are on it, too. If I gotta wait a year for cancer treatment; you gotta wait, too.
You doofuses in Congress remind me of the movie: Revenge of the Nerds.
Funny how the alchemy of time alters one’s perception. Edward Ted Kennedy, once remembered for the Chappaquiddick incident involving Kennedy and his companion Mary Jo Kopechne in 1969, is now regarded as a kindly, old, respected patriarch, and liberal icon. God bless Sen. Kennedy, but remember: Chappaquiddick was part of a story that attracted international notoriety on July 17, 1969 when the dead body of Mary Jo Kopechne was discovered inside an overturned car in a channel on the island. The car belonged to Senator Kennedy, who did not report the incident to police authorities until the following morning. Kopechne's body was recovered from the submerged vehicle, and Kennedy entered a plea of guilty to a charge of "leaving the scene of an accident after causing injury." He received a sentence of two months in jail. The sentence was suspended.
Mr. Pres-o-dent. When, if ever, will members of Congress be allowed to read new thousand-page legislation before you sign it into law? And when will you follow through on your promise to post proposed legislation on the internet for all of your loyal minions to peruse. And when will you learn to throw a baseball like a guy?
Let me be the first to express my sentiments to Osama (towel-head) Bin Laden, on the death of his son, Saad Bin Laden. Good riddance! Monkey-boy! Sayonara! Terrorist dead guy! Ariverderce! Beaver-face! Could-a told ya there’d be no virgins waitin’ for ye … you stupid son-of-a gun!
We live in a truly crazy world my friends. Read the following:
“Animals should be permitted to bring suit, with human beings as their representatives, to prevent violations of current law … Any animals that are entitled to bring suit would be represented by (human) counsel, who would owe guardian like obligations and make decisions, subject to those obligations, on their clients’ behalf….Hence some people urge that certain animals, at least, are persons, not property, and that they should have many of the legal rights that human beings have. Of course this does not mean that those animals can vote or run for office.”
The previous excerpt is from The Rights of Animals: A Very Short Primer, 2002, by Obama’s newly appointed “regulatory” Czar, Cass R. Sunstein. Sunstein is an extreme “progressive,” a socialist, and an adversary of the U.S. Constitution as actually written; an Animal Rights activist, extremist, and an idiot!. He has argued in favor of bans on animal cosmetics testing, hunting, greyhound racing, and meat-eating!
Another wing-nut, Van Jones, Obama’s Green Jobs Czar is a racist Communist? If you take him at his word he is. His official title is Special Advisor on Green Jobs, Enterprise and Innovation for the White House Council on Environmental Equality.
Jones was a founder and leader of the communist revolutionary organization Standing Together to Organize a Revolutionary Movement, or STORM. That organization had its roots in a grouping of black people organizing to protest the first Gulf War. STORM was formally founded in 1994, becoming one of the most influential and active radical groups in the San Francisco Bay area.
My friends, your No. 1 consideration for supporting or opposing Obama’s healthcare plan should be: Will you receive treatment for cancer and other life-threatening illnesses in time to save your life. Listen to what Europeans and Canadians have to say about their healthcare---healthcare like Obama is proposing---before you make a decision to support Obama’s plan.
Obama‘s health plan is not about healthcare. It’s about control.
We, the American people, need to act now, before it’s too late. We need to propose legislation to prevent the institutionalization of nut bars like Harry Reid, Nancy Pelosi, Ted Kennedy and Robert Byrd, in Congress: we need term limits. We need to control the performance of Congressmen by controlling their purse strings. No work! No pay! We need to propose legislation that disallows special perks Congressmen enjoy, such as (1) automobiles provided (their choice of auto) for Congressmen at expense of taxpayers, and (2) obscene lifetime pensions.
Lastly, some nimrods are now proposing that warning labels now be put on hot dogs, like cigarettes. I know what goes into hot dogs! I love hot dogs! Leave my freekin’ hot dogs alone! Is nothing in the world sacred anymore?
See you in the by and by.
Written by: Allen Ball
Thursday, July 23, 2009
© Copyright ALLEN BALL ENTERPRISES 2009
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