Speaking at a Konrad Adenauer Foundation-sponsored event
titled “Parliamentarianism Between Globalisation and National Sovereignty”,
Angela Merkel urged countries to surrender sovereignty and allow a common,
shared body to govern. She supports a "One World Government".
Chancellor Angela Merkel.
Chancellor of Germany, Angela Merkel: "In this day
nation states must today – should today, I say – be ready to give up
sovereignty." She continued by chastising countries who think “they can
solve everything on their own” are simply nationalistic and not patriotic
because they “only think about themselves.” (13 NOV 2018)
We have seen how UK Prime Minister Theresa May has done
everything in her power to thwart the British Exit from the European Union,
BREXIT.
President Emmanuel Macron
Back home in the US, the Liberal Left has established
"Sanctuary Cities" protecting Illegal Aliens and other lawbreakers.
They want an easy path to citizenship and essentially no borders. We lose our
border, we lose our identity and sovereignty. What does "sovereignty"
mean? Autonomous. Self-rule. Self-government. Freedom.Our Country, a Republic, was founded on the premise that our
Sovereign Creator, the one true God, gave each of us inalienable rights. Inalienable
means, non-transferable, indefeasible, and sacrosanct. These Rights are not given to
or even granted to us by man or by any function of man, i.e., government, and
therefore the
government cannot void or limit these Rights. Only one's actions can
cause a limitation or revocation. If we willingly give up or surrender our
sovereignty, then "they" determine "our" rights.
God established Nations and each had marked boundaries. He
also told us to obey the rulers of those nations. (Acts 17:26, Romans 13:1-5)
Some like Merkel, Macron, and May push the globalist agenda
even when they clearly see the negative impact on each country. Each supports
"no borders" and as such has suffered multiple terrorist attacks.
They posit true patriotism is only attainable when you reject nationalism and
embrace globalism.
Paris 2024, XXXIII
Imagine the games of the XXXIII Olympiad in Paris, France in
2024 where the five interlocking rings are no longer assorted colors, instead, they are one single color. All the athletes walk in en masse, no longer separated by
Country wearing their Country’s National Colors. Instead, all are dressed alike.
They march in under a common flag, a flag like their uniforms containing all the
visible colors, White—a White Flag. Quite symbolic because it would indicate
the Ultimate Surrender.
White Flag
We must never yield to the globalists. Even if, in the eyes
of Merkel et al, it makes us unpatriotic.
From one man he made all the nations, that they should
inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and
the boundaries of their lands. Acts 17:26 (NIV)
For the 1988 Sugar Bowl, my wife along with her older sister & husband, the youngest sister, and parents arrived three days before the game that was on New Year's Day. We were excited to see our 6th ranked Auburn Tigers take the field in the Super Dome against the undefeated 4th ranked Orangemen of Syracuse. We had rooms at the Sheraton overlooking Canal Street and enjoyed all the sinfully fun activities the Crescent City offered. The daughters took the parents to all the required food stops. There was the obligatory “Breakfast at Brennan’s”, a leisurely beignet at Cafe du Monde, dinner at Commander's Palace, and the night before the game, Arnaud's. What could be more exciting than Auburn, Arnaud’s, and New Years in New Orleans?
New Orleans, Louisiana.
For those few that have not heard of Arnaud's, it offers the quintessential New Orleans fine dining experience featuring a French and Creole menu. They offer several signature dishes and are renowned for their table-side presentations. We were having Bananas Foster prepared for us and the table behind us was having Café Brûlot. Preparing Cafe Brûlot table-side is an event unto itself. Steaming hot strong coffee, lemon strips, cloves, peel of one orange in one intact strip, etc. All are prepared with the finest silver service and of course, the lights are lowered for the flaming finale. The server drizzles flaming brandy into the coffee bowl by way of the long, spiral, orange peel.
Entrance to Brennan's.
Since we were having Bananas Foster, which also required flame, these two guys were back to back. For the first few minutes, all was going well. All eyes from both and other tables were on our servers. The noise of the room also appeared to quieten as if the light dimmer also controlled the room's volume.
Now before I continue, I must tell you my Father-in-law has sinus and allergy issues and is prone to sneezing attacks. His sneezes are loud, but they are "sensed" before it happens. Much like the way a tornado sucks the air from around you, he inhales a moment before the cocaphonous concussive and violent expulsive explosion. Many of his neighbors have jumped from their recliners with quite a startle on still, summer evenings when he commenced to sneezing.
Entrance to Arnaud.
Cafe du Monde
As fate would have it, the spices tickling his nose was more than he could handle. For some of us at the table, time slowed down. When I replay this in my mind, it is much like the Zapruder film of the JFK assassination. Blurred images, jerky movements, all in silent progression. In my heart I know he tried to stop but could not. The first sneeze caught nearly everyone unaware. Our server, whose head was facing the opposite direction of my father-in-law, jumped, spilling Bananas Foster on the floor. He turned to face my now horrified father-in-law who was now on his way to another sneeze when the server scrunched his head and neck as if receiving an impact. I believe to this day he said, "I'm Hit!". Perhaps it was some spittle or “some magic loogie”. The impact knocked him into the server behind him, who at the precise moment of the initial sneeze, lit the brandy-laced orange peel as he began his ladle pour. Our server slams into the other's back, causing him to drop the flaming orange peel into the bowl of spiced brandy while also ending the lit ladle into the air. The ladle and its contents were last seen traveling towards the kitchen, with a flame following behind as if it was rocket-propelled. By now a server, laden with a tray full of entrees, exits the kitchen to find the smoldering ladle with his foot. He slips and falls causing the server behind him to do the same. Somewhere across the dining room, a woman screams "We're all going to die!". Although later, when pressed on her outburst, she claims she said, "We're all going to see Coach Dye!"
Café Brûlot ladle pour.
By now my father-in-law has stopped sneezing. His face is a lovely shade of purple; part blue from lack of oxygen and part beet red from embarrassment. For a moment, there was complete silence throughout the restaurant. No one moved. Time stood still. Then, as if on some unseen cue, busboys, servers, front-end managers, and hostesses all appeared and cleaned the mess, tended to the diners, and offered heartfelt apologies. Our server managed to salvage the Bananas Foster and we even ordered Café Brûlot. However, we told him we preferred he hold on to the ladle. He forced a smile.
When our check arrived, we scrutinized it looking for any charges not related to our meal. We decided to pay cash for the meal, so we broke out the Benjamins—we did not want our full names known to management. I could not resist and wrote on the check, "Best Dinner Theater in NOLA!" signed "Orange Nation—SU", in hopes they would think we were "Damn Yankees" from New York.
Coach Dye autographing Ties.
What a way to ring in 1988. It was a fun night. One that gave us many laughs, even during times of duress or mourning, memories of that evening always brings a smile to our faces.
As for the game, it was a Tie, 16-16. In response, Syracuse sent hundreds of ugly "ties" to Coach Dye. (Tie Dye. Get it?) In return, Auburn fans sent "sour grapes" to their coach. To have the last laugh, Coach Dye autographed each one of them, then sold them for $100 each. More than 2000 Syracuse fans unknowingly became Auburn University donors with the proceeds going to the General Scholarship Fund. Those “sour grapes” were sweet as Sugar. War Eagle!
Could the Alabama Senate run-off election beeee MOORE Strange? (Okay, re-read that sentence in your Chandler Bing of "Friends" voice.)
Judge Roy Moore and "Big" Luther Strange
We have "Big" Luther Strange who received a basketball scholarship to Tulane, appointed by the "Luv Guv" Robert Bentley--former Alabama Governor who was forced to resign for sexual misconduct--to the Senate seat vacated by Jeff Sessions. His opponent is the (Dis)Honorable Roy MOORE, twice removed as Chief Justice of the Alabama Supreme Court.
Steve Bannon and Sebastian Gorka
Senate Majority Ldr. Mitch McConnell (R-KY)
Each has its own list of supporters. On Senator Strange's "team," we have President Donald Trump, who like Santa Claus is "coming to town" tonight. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY) who was born in Alabama, Senator Richard Shelby (R) Alabama's other Senator, Senate Leadership Fund, and The National Rifle Association. In Judge MOORE's "court," we have gun-totin' Momma Bear Sarah Palin, former Trump inner circle members Steve Bannon and Sebastian Gorka, Alabama Congressman Mo Brooks, former Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee (R). Hold on, there's MOORE. Political commentators, Ann Coulter, Sean Hannity (his wife is from Montgomery and he had the afternoon talk show on WVNN in Athens, AL), Laura Ingraham, Family Research Council founder Tony Perkins, Duck Dynasty Patriarch Phil "Happy, Happy, Happy" Robertson, and the person depicted on Super Man's pajamas--Chuck Norris.
Chuck Norris
Not since the "Seinfeld" finale has a MOORE eclectic and Strange group of people come together for an event. None of it makes sense. Trump ran as an anti-establishment outsider, yet he is backing an establishment-backed candidate. FurtherMOORE, many Alabamians are angry with Trump for his comments and treatment of his favorite son Jeff Sessions--the man's seat we are filling. Judge MOORE has anti-establishment written all over him.
While the attention has been on the Republican run-off, the Democrats are licking their lips. They smell blood in the water. The winner will face Doug Jones, a Democrat who once worked for Senator Howell Heflin. They have to decide who they want to run against Jones. In Alabama, we allow cross-party voting. There could be MOORE Democrats voting next week than Republicans. That would be Strange.
Sarah Palin
I do not know who will win, but in the short term, the USPS might just operate in the black with all the political fliers they are delivering. This week, I received 12 pieces of mail. Yesterday, five pieces; three for MOORE and two for Strange. Read the fliers if you want, but please research the issues then go out and Vote. If you want to bitch, grip, complain about politics, you have to buy a ticket. You get that ticket at the Polls in the form of a sticker--I Voted. I do not care if you are funny lookin', good lookin', or just plain Strange lookin' I want to see MOORE people voting. In this election, we do not use the Electoral College to determine a winner. Whichever candidate receives MOORE votes, wins.
Hold on a moment. Got to turn the volume up. One of my favorite songs is playing. "How do you like it? How do you like it? MOORE! MOORE! MOORE!"
As Chandler would ask, "Could I beeee MOORE subliminal?"
Dear Actors, Actresses, Recording Artists, Entertainers, Sports Figures, et al.
I do not have any desire to hear your thoughts or opinions on any subject other than your specific field of work when I invest my time and money to watch and listen to you ENTERTAIN me. It does not matter if you agree with my positions and views, whether you are Conservative or Liberal; sing your song, play your game, act your part, then go home. If you are accepting an award, express your gratitude, shut up, then sit down. Preferably before they play you off the stage.
Save your comments for your social media, late-night shows, and media interviews. For those that continue to do the above, please know, I shall not buy your music, movies, or memorabilia.
I do have one question for you. Why is it acceptable for you to turn down a paying customer who wishes to pay for your services, such as the 45th peaceful transfer of power, because you disagree with PEOTUS views, but a Christian Baker/Florist/Wedding Planer cannot turn down a paying customer because they disagree with their sexual preferences based on religious beliefs? They, like you, have the right to choose where they want to use their talents and services.
Your inability to recognize the hypocrisy of your actions continues to speak volumes well after you are played off the stage.
I have
been asked a couple of times, why “For
What It’s Worth” as a blog title? So, I thought I might take a moment to
explain and also give a few insights into some of the symbology I use within
it.
First, every blog must have a title or name. It should be
something, catchy, memorable, and provide an idea of the content. Based on the
purpose of my blog, I wanted to share “my thoughts on current events and items
of interest to me”. I did not want anything like “My Two Cents” or any cute
variation, such as “.02” or “2¢” or even “$0.02”. Also, I did not want my name or
moniker to appear in the title, such as “Eddy’s Views On…” or “A Marine’s Take”.
I did consider for a while naming it “A Redneck Marine’s Guide To Life, Love, and Liberals”. I thought I might attract the wrong crowd so I decided against it.
After a bit of thinking, I remembered a phrase my Dad used
to say when he wanted to voice his opinion, normally in an unsolicited manner.
He would say, “If it means anything,” then add his comment. People tended to
listen when my Dad “added his .02”. At times, Dad must have felt like E. F.
Hutton. If you do not recognize the name, then you probably need to read my
blog so I can help fill your brain housing group with useful information. To
that end, E. F. Hutton was a brokerage powerhouse. Commercials and
advertisements had the phrase, “When E. F. Hutton talks, people listen”. In
other words—also an idea for a blog title—produce something that people will stop
what they are doing and “listen to what you have to say” or more literally, in
this case, read what I have to write.
"For What It's Worth" cover in 1967.
While kicking around a few ideas, I was listening to a
Spotify station playing music from the 60s and 70s. I heard a song by Buffalo
Springfield, a Folk-Rock band. Buffalo Springfield had several well-known
musicians. Richie Furay, who went on to form the Country-Rock band Poco.
Stephen Stills and Neil Young would get together with David Crosby and Graham
Nash to form Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. Jim Messina would later partner
with Kenny Loggins forming Loggins and Messina and Jim Fielder moved on to Blood,
Sweat, & Tears. Needless to say, there was a lot of talent in this group.
In the mid-60s they wrote and recorded a protest song that
was untitled. When Stills gave it to the band’s agent he said, “I have this
song here, for what it’s worth, if you want it”. Based on the phrasing of the
sentence, the agent believed the title to be “For What It’s Worth”. They cut it
as the A-side to a single. For those inquiring minds, the B-side was “Do I Have
to Come Right Out and Say It?”. However, the song title to the A-side song is
nowhere in the lyrics of the song. You might assume the protest song was about
the Vietnam War that was just getting in high gear in 1967. Well, you would be
wrong. While it is a protest song, it is not about war. If you want to learn
about this, do a little research. It won’t hurt.
When I heard the song, I recognized it and I immediately
knew this was my blog title. The band had something to say, “Hey what’s that
sound?” it got everyone’s attention. Like E. F. Hutton, people stopped and
listened. Having decided on my blog title, I was going to do something
different. Every individual post or entry I publish to my blog will have the
title of that post appearing somewhere in the text.
With the exception of “The World Is Black, The World is White” published on 24 AUG 13, the blog title For What It’s Worth, and the first letter in each post is purple. I
chose not to use any color in the aforementioned post because it is about race
relations between blacks and whites. The post is all black and white except
when referencing bloodshed and violence. Here I use red in an attempt to
illustrate we may have different skin colors, but we all bleed red. Back to the
reason for using purple.
Purple is my favorite color. It is the color of royalty.
However, that is not why I chose it. I have a wonderful, sweet friend whose
favorite poem is “When I Am An Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple” by Jenny Joseph.
She encouraged me to write years ago. She reminded me of my gift and that I
need to share it with the world. This is my homage to her; my way of
recognizing her impact on and importance in my life. To this person, PEAS.😉
Because of my health, my writing is sporadic. Trying to
think in a coherent manner when all you want to do is yell, makes it difficult
to capture your thoughts. This situation is compounded by the dulling effect of
pain meds. Regardless, I try to write something each week. Most of what I write
is never published; never read by anyone but me.
I write a lot of political posts or entries but have a fair
amount of military stories as well. I have tried to tag or label each published
post with pertinent identifiers to aid readers find a post or something to
read. Posts that are not political, historical, or about the military, are what
I call “Fun Zone”. These are posts, much like this one, that allow the reader
to escape reality for a moment and mentally check out. Maybe a ten-minute break
while having a cup of coffee. Fun Zone posts include, “Cheers!”, “Battle of Ed’s
Shed”, “Where Dreams Come True”, “LabCorp Comedy Club”, etc. Just use the drop-down list on the top left “All Labels”
If you have read this far, I hope by now you are interested
enough to read some of my other posts. If you like it, disagree with it, or
just have something to say, please let me know. Don’t be surprised if you come
across some EDDYoms (idioms). I have made several, such as NERDvana—a mental
or emotional state of Utopian bliss as a result of doing anything “nerdy”;
Palate Party—a tasty bite of food that is a “taste bud treat”; Premature
Exclamation—being in such a hurry to reply, you fail to fully compose your idea
before you speak or hit Send/Enter; Electronic Erection—sort of
self-explanatory, but any form of excitement brought about by electronic
gadgets. To clarify, it is far short of NERDvana.
Who knows, you might read something here and find yourself
in a conversation later in the day beginning with, For What It’s Worth…..
I went to Waffle House on Christmas Eve morning. I was hungry and ready to strap the feed bag on. A few employees holler'd 'GaMornin'—that is a one-word Southern contraction of 'Good Morning' as I made my way to a booth listening to "Christmas in Dixie" by the boys from Ft. Payne. The windows were fogged and had condensation running in rivulets because of the temperature differential. It was unseasonably warm with the temperature over 65 degrees F at 0600, with a slight drizzle. Inside, well, it was hog-killing time. Perhaps, they wanted to make it feel "a lot like Christmas". You could hang meat in there, and not worry about spoilage. To be blunt, it was a bit nippy. I suddenly became self-conscious and felt like a girl wearing a white bathing suit stepping out of cold water, only it was a rain-dampened white Guy Harvey t-shirt in a meat locker.
In addition to the temperature, I noticed I was customer number three. Not too many people hankering for the "Steak-n-Eggs, $7.99 special". The girl waiting on me was in her mid-30s and for clarity purposes, henceforth referred to as 'Smitten 1'. After exchanging a few pleasantries she asked, "Are you on the radio?" I inferred she was asking if I was a radio personality and secretly hoped she did not ask because she thought I had the perfect face (and body) for radio. I clarified by asking, "As in a DJ?". She shook her head in affirmation. I told her no. She then said, "You have the BEST voice. It's nice and deep, and whew!" She was now fanning her face. Red streaks and blotches were appearing on her neck. Perhaps she was standing too close to the grill. No. That doesn't make sense; the grill was empty. She looked too young for hot flashes. Having eliminated ambient temperature, I concluded she enjoyed the quality of my voice. Or, needed extra tip money to buy Christmas gifts.
To prevent any sort of embarrassment, I gave her a smile and a wink along with my order. For some reason, my voice is now an octave deeper than Barry White’s and a bit more velvety than an Elvis Presley painting. She moved to the 'mark' just right of the grill—called out my order then brought my black coffee and water. After thanking her she rejoins her female coworkers. I notice them looking towards me and I cross my arms over my chest. Why did I wear white?
Soon my order is up and she places it in front of me. A coworker, let's call her 'Smitten 2', refills my coffee and asks if she could get me anything else. "No, thank you." Smitten 2 asks how my holiday is going and what I had planned. After a few more questions she exclaims, "You DO have a sexy voice."
Me: "Oh, you are too kind. It is just my voice."
Smitten 2: "No. I am serious. When Smitten 1 told us, I had to come over and see for myself". I am sure she meant "hear" instead of "see". Anyway, I exhaled a sigh of relief realizing they weren't talking about my chestal region.
Me: "What makes a voice sexy?"
Smitten 1: "The way it sounds."—[My bad. I should not have asked such a difficult question.]—"I could listen to you talk all day."
Smitten 2: "Please say my name-just once." As she said this, she thrust her chestal region towards me, presumably to allow me to read her name tag. For fear I might see signs of her being cold, I chose to look her in the eye. I felt it only polite to do what she asked so I said, "My name-just once." With this, both Smittens 1 and 2 started laughing and walked away.
While finishing my breakfast, I smiled thinking something about my old, broken body--albeit, nothing external--was attractive to a couple of girls. I was not interested in reciprocating their flirtations. I was tired, and the neuro pain down my legs was demanding my attention. Regardless, it was flattering and made me think of the number of times women had the reverse experience. Guys flirting with them. Complimenting them. Perhaps even ogling. This exchange was nowhere near any of those. Just two girls complimenting my voice.
Album Cover "It's A Waffle House Christmas", 2001.
Their compliments, while concealed in flirtatious banter, lifted my spirits. For a moment I did not feel pain in my back and down my legs. I stood without my usual deep breath then made my way to the cash register where I paid my bill leaving a 35% tip. For the Christmas gifts of course. I picked up my cell phone, and wished all a Merry Christmas as another song was playing, "It's A Waffle House Christmas". With a chuckle in my throat and a smile on my face, I walked to the door with a bit more pride in my stride; a new found pep in my step, my head held high, and my chest puffed out. I opened the door to allow a couple to enter. She looked at me, then cast a sidelong glance at her husband remarking, "It must be cold in here".
Well, this week went out with a "Big Bang". We all witnessed and engaged in coitus.
"The Big Bang Theory"? Oh, no. Well, yes. Amy has longed for the moment when Sheldon's "force awakens". Shamy finally decided to go "where no man has gone before". They forego Star Wars worldwide release for foreplay and a release of their own.
While the world was distracted by the new Star Trek movie--Star Wars, what's the difference? New Speaker Paul Ryan led a Republican-controlled House and Senate to pass the $1.1 TRILLION Omnibus Spending Bill.
Amy thoroughly enjoyed Sheldon's birthday genitals. For the most part, "experiencing coitus" is pleasurable. Except when it is forced upon you by a trusted friend. Yeah, we were screwed. I believe reciprocity is in order. Ryan and the other 315 House members plus the 65 Senators that voted for this Bill should have a lightsaber inserted deep into their black holes.
