The state wants to be my personal manager and I say Go To Hell. Just what is it that makes these people debate a bill to legalize hemp oil and only hemp oil for epileptics. What detail.
What about the cancer patients fighting nausea. Or glaucoma patients. But the bigger question is, “do we need a personal manager?”
As in last night’s discussion on this blog about job shadows, you mean people can’t be expected to see a need and search for options and decide what would work best for them?
As I listened to the news about that disgusting piece of human garbarge, Terry Branstad, wanting to be our personal manager and thinking he can control the world like a mini Henry Kissinger it just angered me so much I knew it had to be here on this blog. Hey Terry! It isn’t about drugs and medical uses. It’s about freedom and critical thinking. It’s about a whole society turning into a mass of stupidity constantly seeking permission from a central authority and never being responsible for anything. The buck stops nowhere.
“The ultimate effect of shielding men from the effects of folly is to fill the world with fools”
…. Herbert Spencer said that in 1891
This video was posted on this blog in its very early days but I met a likable fellow tonight at Hampton’s microbrew, where his fiance was belting out some tremendous folksy music and told him this story (because he once lived in Memphis): I saw Albert King play about 4 times at the Ash Grove on Melrose Ave. in LA. I took My Nana, Mom and sister to see him there too, on Mothers Day. He offered Nana champaigne because she complained about not being allowed by the fascist state to have a bourbon and water in a beer and wine joint. Albert was a kindly gent.
Anyway, on my way home from work one evening at a stoplight next to my Fiat was a big white Cadillac convertible, Albert at the wheel. I yelled, “hey Albert.” He called me Fritz. How cool is that? He asked directions and after he took off from the stop and go light I realized he was in a lane that must turn, taking him the wrong way. I zoomed up and caught him and set him straight. This was in 1967. Little did I know he was at the Maintainance Shop in Ames, Iowa the year our little Muck was born (1981). Woulda been fun to yell at him again.
This song is from his Stax release, Born Under a Bad Sign, with backup band, Booker T and the MGs. He plays a Gibson Flying V upside down and left handed.