As I write this column, the good ol’ USA is suffering the indignity of a 3-week partial government shutdown because Congress and the President can not hammer out a workable national immigration policy.
That’s serious business, but last week I had to chuckle out loud when the Democrats aired their TV response to the President’s national address from the White House.
Why the chuckle? Because within two seconds of seeing the Speaker of the House and the Minority Leader in the Senate standing together for the response, my mind boldly blared: “The re-creation of a modern political American Gothic.”
You’ll recall that American Gothic is a famous painting by Grant Wood of an elderly Iowa farm couple standing wrinkled, non-smiling and serious-faced in front of a Gothic rural home. Both are dressed mainly in black. He’s wearing a pair of overalls and a black coat and holding an erect pitchfork in front of them. The farm wife is wearing a black probably-gingham dress. Their appearance is such that the casual viewer would think the couple is facing the guillotine.
I’m surprised that some wag hasn’t already photoshopped the democrat leaders into an American Gothic picture with the Capital Building as the backdrop.
To me, the appearance of the Dynamic Duo says more to the need for legislative term limits than anything about government shutdowns and illegal immigration.
In a related thought, the television coverage of the Prez and the Dynamic Duo made me wonder: Does CNN now stand for the Chuck/Nancy Network?
Okay, I’ve made enuf political enemies so far in this column, so I’ll get off my soapbox.
Television was on my mind in more ways than one the first week of the new year.
Our flat-screen TV worked fine one evening, but the next morning it would come on, but not put a picture of any kind on the screen. It soon became clear, we’d be buying a replacement.
That we did, plus a little flat-screen TV for ol’ Nevah’s sewing room. After a few adjustments, and a drive to town for a new wiring cable, we’re in the TV biz once again.
My encounters with wildlife has been mixed in 2019. Last week I mentioned that I’d missed a point-blank shot at a marauding coyote.
Then I embarrassed myself again in the field hunting for a deer. My friend, ol’ Lon G. Horner, flushed four deer that ran right past me as full speed and I could not get a shot with my rifle and scope because they were too close. After that experience, I put aside all thoughts of venison for this season.
Then, the weather wuz so nice one day that I ventured to go bait fishing in January. I had worms in the old fridge that were still alive from October, and the watershed I was fishing still had live minnows that I stashed there in October.
So, I baited one pole with worms and another with a minnow and plunked them into the water. I sat on the dock or in the pickup for more than two hours with nary a bite. Then the landowner, ol’ Finnen Fethers, showed up and we visited for a half-hour.
When I said I was gonna head home, Finn glanced at my poles and said, “You might wanna catch that fish before it pulls your pole into the water.” Sure enuf, it had unspooled at least 100 yards of line, but when I set the hook, I wuz sure I’d hooked a snapping turtle. But, lo and behold, t’was a channel catfish and it weighed 10 pounds to the ounce.
That was the earliest and biggest fish I’d ever caught in January. I emailed by fishing buddies and informed them that I’d already set the bar pretty high for the biggest fish caught in 2019.
But, that wuzn’t my last wildlife encounter for the week. When my above-mentioned friend Finn came to the Old Boar’s Breakfast Club this week, he brought along his setter bird dog and after breakfast we went quail hunting.
We hunted two places. I walked way beyond my years. And we harvested only three quail from three coveys, but we had a world of fun — especially for early January.
My financial advisor advised me that I needed to be more creative in finding ways to improve my income in my old age. So, I thought about it and I came up with an idea. I put this message out on the internet:
“I am a Transfinancial, which means I am a rich person born in a poor person’s body. I can only be helped if you send me money to resolve my Financial Identity Disorder. I really need your help,”
I rented a P.O. Box to received all the money sent in, but so far not a single envelope has arrived.
Here’s my financial gem of wisdom for the week: A hundred years ago a $20 bill and a $20 gold piece were interchangeable. Either one would pay for a wild night on the town. The $20 gold piece will still do that. The $20 bill? Not so much.”
Have a good ‘un.