Chamblee54

The Cost Of Football

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on August 24, 2011






Football is just around the corner. The teams are busy with the pre season, and soon weekends will be full of hitting and drinking. Perhaps this is a good time to wonder whether football is worth the human cost. Especially now, with a national debate raging about the future of our health care. Football injuries keep hospitals hopping during the autumn.

This is a recycled post. There is a helping of hypocrisy here, as PG enjoys watching the hits. Pictures are from The Library of Congress.

Football season is here. While the games are fun to watch, the players are paying the price. Your health insurance premiums just might be affected.

Football is a contact sport. On every play, the linemen block other lineman to keep them from tackling a back. Someone gets hit on every play. Most of these hits are “clean” and cause only bruises. Some are “dirty”, and cause injuries. Even the clean hits can hurt someone.

It is estimated that 187,000 emergency room visits every year are due to football. What if an illegal drug sent 187k to the er annually? There would be a hue and cry to kill the pushers.

Knee injuries are especially prevalent. An estimated 45,000 knee operations are performed each year due to football injuries. Arthroscopy is a wonderful invention.

With all those helmets slamming into each other, head injuries occur.
“The researchers found that there is approximately one catastrophic head injury per every 150,000 athletes playing, or 7 catastrophic injuries yearly. There were 0.67 injuries per 100,000 players at the high school level and 0.21 injuries per 100,000 for college level football players.” Often, the coaches get caught up in the do or die spirit of a big game, and don’t get the player the medical attention that he needs. “Football is a very macho sport. Athletes are taught to play through pain,” …“But concussions range in severity and symptoms, so all a player may experience is a headache several hours after impact. High school players need to be educated in these symptoms and encouraged to self report.”
Even cheerleading squads are reporting more injuries, due to botched stunts.

When you see the players in their youthful glory, you don’t think what they will look like after they quit playing. Many players know this, but the lure of today’s glory justifies the pain of tomorrow. The heroes of yesterday often walk with pain today.




Robert Frost

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on August 22, 2011






Fire and Ice
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.


The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


After Apple-picking
My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound 25
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it’s like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.






Putting in the Seed
You come to fetch me from my work to-night
When supper’s on the table, and we’ll see
If I can leave off burying the white
Soft petals fallen from the apple tree.
(Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,
Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea;)
And go along with you ere you lose sight
Of what you came for and become like me,
Slave to a springtime passion for the earth.
How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed
On through the watching for that early birth
When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,
The sturdy seedling with arched body comes
Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.


Mending Wall
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbour know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
“Stay where you are until our backs are turned!”
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, “Good fences make good neighbours.”
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
“Why do they make good neighbours? Isn’t it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That wants it down.” I could say “Elves” to him,
But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father’s saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, “Good fences make good neighbours.”

Poems written by Robert Frost. Text by Public Domain Poems.
Pictures from The Library of Congress .




Richards

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on August 22, 2011








A comment at a recent post mentioned “Jenning’s Rose Room, a classic poor white juke and dance hall … where Trader Joes now sits.” PG had been in that building when it was called Richards, and knew   stories. Pictures  are from ” The Special Collections and Archives,Georgia State University Library”.

There is no telling what the original use of the building at 931 Monroe Drive was. It was across the street from Grady Stadium, and adjacent to Piedmont Park. The railroad tracks that became the beltline ran behind it. The parking lot was primitive, with a marquee sign built at some point. ( PG drove by that sign several nights and saw that  Lynyrd Skynyrd was playing. Somehow, he did not make it inside.)

There was another nightclub building on the hill behind JRR. One night, PG went to see a jazz band there, accompanied by someone who lived in a nearby house. After seeing the band, PG was led to a horse stable behind the bar. The horses were not well maintained … you could see the ribs sticking out. There is a story of a goat getting loose from the stable, and being chased out of the jazz bar during happy hour.

Jennings Rose Room was before PG’s time. There is a story that some men had lunch there, and made a bet. The idea was to hit a golf ball from the JRR parking lot, and putt it into a hole at Piedmont Park. A biscuit was used as a tee. The first shot went across the street, onto the field at the stadium. Eventually, the ball was hit across Tenth Street, onto a green, and into the cup.

At some point, Jennings Rose Room closed. A gay club called Chuck’s Rathskeller was opened in that location. A rock and roll club or two did business there. Then Richards opened.

The first time PG was in the house was after a Johnny Winter concert at the Fox. There were rumors of visiting musicians dropping by Richards to play after their shows. Mr. Winter was only onstage for a couple of minutes after PG got there.

The most memorable trip to Richards was during the summer of 1973. The headliner was Rory Gallagher, who was ok but not spectacular. The opening act was Sopwith Camel, one of the forgotten bands of the seventies. They performed a novelty hit, “Hello Hello”. Someone in the audience liked it, and paid them to do it again. The band wound up doing “Hello Hello” five times, and said that was the most money they made on a show in a long time.

Average White Band was making the rounds that fall, and had a show at Richards. A lot of the audience was black, and they hit the dance floor in unison when “Pick up the Pieces” was played. Fellow Scotsman Alex Harvey was in town, and joined AWB to sing ” I heard it through the grapevine”.

Muddy Waters played at Richards one night. The band did most of the playing, with Mr. Waters tossing in a few licks on bottleneck guitar. He might have sang a couple of times.

About this time, Iggy Pop played a few shows at Richards. One night, someone snuck up on him, and gave him a hug. It was Elton John, wearing a gorilla suit.

PG saw two more shows (that he can remember) at Richards. Soft Machine played in the winter of 1974. Larry Coryell played a show that summer, with the Mike Greene Band opening. PG got to talk to Mike Greene that night. The National Association of Recording Arts and Sciences ( who do the Grammy Awards) had a President named C. Michael Greene at one time. PG thinks this is the person he talked to that night, but cannot find confirmation.

Two friends of PG went, as their first date, to see Spirit at Richards. They were married a few years later. Towards the end of 1974, Richards was running out of steam. They advertised a New Years Eve show starring B.B. King, and sold high priced tickets. When the crowd showed up for the show, they found the doors locked. Richards had closed.

The next tenant for 931 Monroe Drive was going to be Cabaret After Dark, a gay club. There was a fire the night before the grand opening. The building was never used again. Eventually, a shopping center was built on the site.
UPDATE: Here is a article from the Great Speckled Bird about the Richards.





As The War Turns

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on August 22, 2011






This is a repost from three years ago. (It was repeated  last year. ) Large Tony has a new blog, but doesn’t post very often. The house on Virginia Avenue is still there. The granite building by Piedmont Park is part of a restaurant. Paul McCartney played a show (not for free) in the field behind it.

On September 10, the last episode of As the world turns will be broadcast. This is episode #13,858. It was the first soap opera to be a half hour, instead of fifteen minutes.

Pictures for today are from The Library of Congress
One of my favorite blogs is Large Tony. He is going to retire soon, and will be missed. He stays with his Granny in the hills of Tennessee. Yesterday, he was talking about the time when he was up at Grannies house as a young boy. They got up early one morning to see the wedding of Charles and Diana. I dare say the bond between them is more genuine than the bond between Charles and Diana.
I saw an earth changing event at my Gran’s house one day. ( And why do people say Granny, or Nana, or Gran? Its not like I remember having a choice ). Gran lived in a little apartment in Mrs. Stuckey’s house on Virginia Avenue. This was a few years before Virginia Highlands was uber trendy. I was staying with her one summer day when I was ten years old.
We walked down to the granite house next to the golf course in Piedmont Park. Gran’s friend worked there. This was the summer of Beatlemania, and Gran’s friend made a point of telling me that she DID NOT LIKE THE BEATLES
” If The Beatles were playing for free across the street, I would not waste the energy to walk across the street to see them”.
Gran and I walked back to her apartment to see “As the World Turns”. The show was interrupted for a news bulletin. Walter Cronkite came on the say that a North Vietnamese boat had fired on an American boat in the Gulf of Tonkin.We did not know, at the time, that this was a world changing event.I doubt Gran ever thought much about it. But Congress used that incident… which turned out to be largely fabricated… to justify our sending many more troops to fight in Vietnam. That war was a world changing event. We are still dealing with the effects of that conflict.




Living Walls Part Two

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on August 21, 2011







PG and Uzi went back downtown Sunday, to see the rest of the Living Walls. The journey started at Paris on Ponce, an antique store across from Green’s liquor store. The mural had a few cars parked in front, and was a colorful assortment of shapes.

The next wall was on nearby Somerset Terrace. There was an open gate, with a freshly painted wall behind it. PG took a few shots, and was amused at the homeland security vehicle overturned by native americans. A man pulled into the lot, and told Uzi that this was private property. As it turns out, there is a mural on a building behind Somerset, on Angier Springs. Google says that this is the mural for the Living Walls project.

There were two murals in Little Five points. One was behind Junkman’s Daughter . PG looked for a place to park, couldn’t find one, and wound up driving through an alley that came out on Colquitt Avenue. PG didn’t know this alley was there, and considered driving through it to be a cool move. Uzi felt the need to go to Zestos, and get a chocolate ice cream cone. PG parked there, and walked across the street to photograph the mural in front of Criminal Records.

The next two were on Edgewood Avenue. The first was on the side of an apartment building, as Inman Park was morphing into urban pregentrification. PG drove by it, and was turning around in a parking lot when Uzi spotted it. The next one was on the other side of I75/85. Again, PG drove by, and Uzi spotted the image. PG found a *creative* parking spot, and went over to capture the mural. This was an impressive image, and had a vacant lot beside it, which made photography easy.

The next three were at the corner of Pryor Street and MLK Blvd. PG found an empty parking spot, and went out to capture the images. These were all adjacent to Underground Atlanta. A number of policeman were standing around, for some reason.

The next stop may be the high point of the afternoon. There is a large, brick hotel at the corner of Mitchell Street and Forsyth Street. At one time, when Mitchell Street went from the train station to the State Capitol, this was a fine establishment. Today, it is way, way past it’s glory days. To compensate for the ravages of time, someone painted a large aligator on the side.

When Uzi was a kid living in Cascade Heights, Peters Street was the way home. Today it is part of the Castleberry Hill neighborhood, which allegedly is making a comeback. The next stop was on Murphy Avenue, near the beltline, and the West End Marta station.

A few raindrops were coming into play by this point. PG drove to East Point, looking for one more mural, but never did find it. Dinner at the Piccadilly cafeteria on North Druid Hills road was next, with PG making it home as the serious rain started. Uzi was left to drive to his place in the storm.






Unicorn Farts

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on August 20, 2011






PG is a sometimes reader/commenter of peach pundit . Friday, head peachpit Erick Erickson was a guest announcer on WSB radio. The station is now simulcast on an fm outlet, which was an important announcement on the show.

Mr. Erickson is getting to be versatile. A Macon city councilman, blogger, and CNN commenter, he was replacing Herman Cain. At the start of the show, he said he didn’t want to talk about the “Ground Zero Mosque”. Mr. Erickson proceeded to spend the majority of his time talking about that very issue.

After a while, PG decided to see if he could get on. After a string of busy signals, the phone rang. The call screener answered “the herman cain show”. She asked for a name, and PG said Chamblee54. She said that is not a name, so PG said Luther, which is his “real” name.

The screener asked what he wanted to talk about, and PG said water. Atlanta had a drought three years ago, and almost ran out of water. The screener said that the host has not been talking about that. PG asked if he could wait on hold while she asked the man if he could discuss water. A few minutes later, at 8:26, the screener said he could talk on the show, please turn the sound down on your radio. PG wished he could have talked to Belinda, the ace screener for Neal Boortz.

PG listened to Mr. Erickson rant about liberals for twenty minutes, while awaiting his turn. Finally, it was his turn to talk. Starting out by mentioning that he comments at Peach Pundit, PG quickly asked Mr. Erickson what we should do to ensure a secure water supply for Atlanta.

There was a bit of a chuckle, and the announcer said it would be easy to solve this problem. Just elect competent officials. If you want to get a good water supply for Atlanta, shave your legs, paint your face, and offer to show state officials a good time.

PG had a follow up question, on the lines of what specific you would want these newly elected officials to do about the water crisis. There was a clicking sound on the line, and suddenly no sound was coming out of the telephone.

This discussion shows a few things that are wrong with America. With the problems facing America, we should not have time to worry about an Islamic Community Center being built in Lower Manhattan. When the water shortage was getting worse, the hot topic in the local arena was the State Flag. Until our leaders…both elected and electronic…address serious issues, and put aside name calling about those who disagree with you, we are in a world of trouble.

After PG switched back to the speaker radio, Mr. Erickson was ranting about twenty somethings that don’t want to grow up. The question of what Mr. Erickson’s excuse for not growing up, as a thirty something, was not addressed.

PG was also hoping to talk about blogging. There is a saying, Blogging is talk radio without the busy signal. The cutoff was not the end of the comment, as it would be for most people. Pictures for tonights entertainment are from ” The Special Collections and Archives,Georgia State University Library”

The commentary above is a repost. In the past year, Herman Cain has quit radio to run for President. After a good early showing, his campaign is running out of steam. Rick Perry and Michele Bachmann have much better hair.

Erick Erickson has replaced Herman Cain as the host of the 7 pm talk show on WSB. ( AM750 and now 95.5FM News/Talk WSB ) PG listened to EWerickson for a couple of minutes last night. He said BHO was trying to fund our economy on unicorn farts. This is the intellectual level of his show.




Tubby Boots

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on August 19, 2011







PG found Classic Television Showbiz while reserarching a recent feature about the late Sherwood Schwartz. The site is a treasure, with youtubes of classic tv shows, and interviews with “entertainers”. Somewhere in the sidebar was a link to a story about Tubby Boots.

Charles “Tubby” Boots was born around 1926 in Baltimore MD. He was a nightclub comedian. Mr. Boots weighed 375 pounds, had bleach blond hair, and often performed without a shirt. He wore pasties on his boobs, and would twirl them simultaneously in opposite directions.

The parts in blue are borrowed from Classic television showbiz.
Tubby’s parents were a vaudevillian dance team called Boots and Barton. At the age of seven this youngster was clocking in at an astounding two hundred pounds, a constant target of ridicule in his Baltimore schoolyard….During his childhood, Tubby managed to witness a performance by comedy’s greatest cult icon, Lord Buckley … Tubby Boots recalled shortly before his death, “[Lord Buckley] was like a father figure to me. I met Buckley when I was seven years old when I was working at the Hippodrome in Baltimore, Maryland, and I was in awe of him. I saw his act every time he would come back to play the theater … I would sit in the theater all day and watch the shows. I’d stay out of school for the whole week – my mother would pack me a lunch – she knew what I was doing because I wanted to learn about show business. Buckley would do his hat-switching act. Every other show he would get me to do it with him. I’d hang out with him backstage, we’d go out for lunch or dinner, he’d sneak me back into the theater and I’d watch the whole stage show again. I started working nightclubs when I was eleven. I weighed 250 pounds and passed myself off as twenty-one. I got arrested in a strip joint and the police said: ‘We’re not going to throw you in jail but you’re not going to work in this town again – you’re too notorious.’ So they actually put me on a train and said ‘Where you wanna ticket to?’ I said, ‘New York.’ I didn’t run away – I was forced to leave. So when I got to New York I called Buckley and, pretending to sob, said, ‘My mama died in a car crash…my father was with her…’ Unbeknownst to me, he called my mother and told her, ‘He’s with me.’ So he got me a job at The Three Deuces, passing me off as twenty-one.” The Three Deuces was one of Manhattan’s major jazz holes in the thirties and forties, regularly featuring Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker. Lord Buckley was connected to the jazz world for most of his career, performing in their clubs and utilizing a great deal of the Black hipster vernacular in his act.”
Mr. Boots got a job as the emcee for burlesque shows, frequently in traveling carnival shows. He was doing well, when Lord Buckley called him from Hollywood. Supposedly, there was a movie job waiting for Mr. Boots. When he got to California, he found out otherwise.
“Tubby became affectionately known as Princess Lily. “He used to call me Princess Lily but Prince Charles of Booth was my title. Buckley used to say: ‘Lil! You had the misfortune to be born with the beautiful body of a woman in the ridiculous body of a man!””
In 1959, Mr. Boots was in a bizarre accident. He was taking a bath, and the controls for the hot and cold water were in another room. Lord Buckley was handling these controls, and poured scalding hot water into the tub. Mr. Boots was stuck in the tub, and was badly burned. He spent a week in the hospital, and was not friends with Lord Buckley later.

After he recovered, Mr. Boots moved to Miami Beach. He performed in motel lounges for many years, and developed a following. Comedy albums were becoming popular, and Mr. Boots contributed “Thin my be in but fats where its at”. The albums were sold at his shows. The legend is that no copies exist that were not autographed.

The various search engines are sketchy about Tubby Boots. A comment or two refers to his death, but there is no date available. The Lady Bunny tells about going to see Mr. Boots in a supper club on Long Island in the eighties. Reportedly Mr. Boots did well during the comedy club explosion of the eighties.

PG saw a show by Tubby Boots. It was December 1974, at a dingy Atlanta bar called The Cove. PG was hanging out with someone we will call McClain, who liked the drag shows at The Cove. The bar was a former electronics warehouse, with a sign for Ballantines Beer by the front entrance. Ballantines had not been sold in Georgia for a long time, but the sign stayed. This was on Monroe Drive, behind Piedmont Park. Evidently, Tubby Boots was a friend of somebody, and did a show at The Cove one night.

If you can stand to look at the embedded video, you get an idea about his show. Thirty seven years later, PG can remember a few of the jokes. There was a one liner about an *African American* who took a shit, and thought he was melting. There was a routine based on the role Katherine Hepburn played in “Suddenly Last Summer”. My boy is not queeyer, he’s carnivorous. After a while, the shirt came off, and he twirled pasties from his boobs in different directions.

After the show, PG talked to a black friend, who did not want to meet the comedian. Meanwhile, Tubby Boots and McClain were making out. Before long, McClain came over to PG, and said he wanted to go somewhere else. Tubby Boots died in August, 1993. Pictures are from The Library of Congress.




X20 And The Ten Commandos

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on August 19, 2011






1 And G-d spake all these words, saying, 2 I [am] the LORD thy G-d, which have brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. 3 Thou shalt have no other G-ds before me. 4 Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness [of any thing] that [is] in heaven above, or that [is] in the earth beneath, or that [is] in the water under the earth: 5 Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the LORD thy G-d [am] a jealous G-d, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth [generation] of them that hate me; 6 And shewing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my commandments. 7 Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy G-d in vain; for the LORD will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain. 8 Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy. 9 Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work: 10 But the seventh day [is] the sabbath of the LORD thy G-d: [in it] thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that [is] within thy gates: 11 For [in] six days the LORD made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them [is], and rested the seventh day: wherefore the LORD blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it. 12 Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy G-d giveth thee. 13 Thou shalt not kill. 14 Thou shalt not commit adultery. 15 Thou shalt not steal. 16 Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour. 17 Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that [is] thy neighbour’s. 18 And all the people saw the thunderings, and the lightnings, and the noise of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking: and when the people saw [it], they removed, and stood afar off. 19 And they said unto Moses, Speak thou with us, and we will hear: but let not G-d speak with us, lest we die. 20 And Moses said unto the people, Fear not: for G-d is come to prove you, and that his fear may be before your faces, that ye sin not. 21 And the people stood afar off, and Moses drew near unto the thick darkness where G-d [was]. 22 And the LORD said unto Moses, Thus thou shalt say unto the children of Israel, Ye have seen that I have talked with you from heaven. 23 Ye shall not make with me G-ds of silver, neither shall ye make unto you G-ds of gold. 24 An altar of earth thou shalt make unto me, and shalt sacrifice thereon thy burnt offerings, and thy peace offerings, thy sheep, and thine oxen: in all places where I record my name I will come unto thee, and I will bless thee. 25 And if thou wilt make me an altar of stone, thou shalt not build it of hewn stone: for if thou lift up thy tool upon it, thou hast polluted it. 26 Neither shalt thou go up by steps unto mine altar, that thy nakedness be not discovered thereon. A The ten commandos are not meant to be believed. They are meant to be practiced.  B If you take away the religious whoopdeedoo, the ten commandos hold up as common sense rules for living. C If you ever meet someone who claims to practice all of the commandos, then you are dealing with a liar. D We are all G-d’s children. She gave you a heart and a mind. When in doubt, trust your heart. E The first commando is powerful and under appreciated. It does not include books about G-d, or the so called son of G-d. F There is an ongoing controversy about the public display of the ten commandos. Some say such displays violate the second commando. PG wonders if having a sign forbidding lying and stealing is going to work in a courthouse. G The third commando is more than G-d’s last name. It is about the proper use of a sacred name. In a perfect world, the word G-d would only be used for worship and respectful discussion. A “pledge of allegiance” to a nationalist symbol is not an appropriate use of a sacred name. H Sunday is too fine of a day to spend inside a church house. I When you are discussing religion, it is normal to be a hypocrite. If you disagree with someone, the easiest argument to scream hypocrisy. J Whenever possible, show kindness to your neighbor. K The text for Exodus 20 is courtesy of King James Bible Online. Pictures are by Chamblee54.





She Always Carries Jonquils

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on August 18, 2011








PG found Archival Atlanta: Electric Street Dummies, the Great Stonehenge Explosion, Nerve Tonics, and Bovine Laws : Forgotten Facts and Well-Kept Secrets from Our City’s Past at the Chamblee library. There are always more stories to be heard. Pictures today are from ” The Special Collections and Archives,Georgia State University Library”.

In the 1840s, the Western and Atlantic railroad wanted to hook up with the Central of Georgia railroad. The spot for the meeting was called Terminus. One idea was to name the town for William Lumpkin, a former Georgia Governor and a railroad executive. Lumpkinville sounded bad in the mouth, and the new town was named “Marthasville”, after the daughter of the Governor. (Martha is buried in Oakland Cemetery.) Few people liked this name, and someone decided that the feminine form of Atlantic was Atlanta. Unlike the state flag, this is unlikely to change.

The new town prospered, and recovered from the unpleasantness of 1864. In 1875, there was a problem with stray cows. The answer was the “1875 Cow Ordinance”. The law required that cows be kept in a pen at night. A fine of two dollars was assessed for every stray cow that was caught.

About this time, there were a few very busy railroad tracks going through downtown. People were getting tired of waiting for the trains to go through. One by one, viaducts were built over the tracks, creating a forgotten ground floor. This was built up into Underground Atlanta in the sixties, which was red hot for a while, then cooled off, and is now so so.

In 1897, J.W. Alexander was the first person in town to own a “horseless carriage”. One day, he decided to take a ride to East Point. A mule objected to the device, and kicked man and machine into a ditch.

It is a rule that all history books about Atlanta have to discuss Coca Cola and Gone With The Wind. There are only so many stories to go around. This book tells of an Alpharetta farmer who bought the Tara set from MGM. He stored in a barn, the location of which was a secret. Betty Talmadge wanted to buy it, and the price went from $375k to $5k. After a while, the sale was finalized. There was only one problem…the farmer died, and never told anyone where the barn was. Mrs. Talmadge got the money from her husband’s overcoat, went to Alpharetta, and found the barn. The set was moved into another secret location, where it was in 1996, when this book was published.

Sam and William Venable owned Stone Mountain, and had a quarry there. (The Ku Klux Klan held meetings on the mountain.) Sam built a large granite house at 1410 Ponce de Leon Avenue, and stocked it with ammunition. He thought a race war was on the way, and wanted to be prepared. One night, a chimney overheated, and set the roof on fire. The explosives in the attic exploded, and took the roof off. The house was repaired, Mr. Venable died, and the house became part of a Lutheran church.

One of the few ante bellum houses in Atlanta is near Grant Park. It was once owned by Lemuel Grant, who donated the land for the park. He stays in a large marble house in Oakland Cemetery now. The Grant Park house was purchased by Mr. and Mrs. John Marsh, in partnership with Boyd Eugene Taylor. After the death of Mrs. Marsh (also known as Margaret Mitchell), she was known to visit the house.
“Margaret just wanders through the house, looking things over. She never talks, and she always carries jonquils. The first night she came I was very shocked. I went out to her grave at Oakland Cemetery the next day. I’d never been to the house before. But I was almost certain of what I’d find. The plot is covered by a bed of jonquils.”






Un-Civil Slanderous Trollish

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on August 17, 2011







These guidelines are very general and cannot cover every possible situation. Please don’t assume that ##### management agrees with or otherwise endorses any particular comment. We reserve the right to filter or delete comments or to deny posting privileges entirely at our discretion. Please note that comments are reviewed by the editorial staff and may not be posted immediately. If you feel your comment was filtered inappropriately, please email us …. I don’t make the rules Madam. I just think them up and write them down.” – Eric Cartman … there is a limit in balance. actually two of them, one on each side. where the tear cliffs exist. I miss edging so closely on the brinks of the ocean’s waves … Everything belongs and everything comes along when I’m ready and not before. Thank God I am not in control… “Ah, that is a perfume in which I delight; when they roast coffee near my house, I hasten to open the door to take in all the aroma.”… THIS IS A SCAM – DO NOT OPEN IT! AND I BET BRUCE DIDN’T SEND IT EITHER! … not some preset essence that determines what a human becomes…. what means death in this rude assault?… during this four-year period there were still past issues that barb and i had to deal with individually as well as issues in our relationship. we had our disagreements and our differences but we wo as no relief from the terror as day after day i felt i was going to die; i felt i was in hell. i also felt anger, rage, terror, and the heartbreak of the utter hopelessness of it ever changing … To paraphrase Schopenauer: Man always does what he wills, but he cannot will what he wills… It’s frightening how the advance of freedom, human rights and equality draws such vermin out of Tea Party and Fundamentalist cesspools. … Live so that you wouldn’t be ashmed to sell the family parrot to the town gossip…Will Rogers ,,, Friends are like underpants.. Some crawl up your butt. Some snap under pressure.. 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This prevents automated programs from posting comments. … “Fear of danger is ten thousand times more terrifying than danger itself.” — Defoe … “You are absolute scum, the only factor which stops me feeling angry is pity, you are NOTHING, and you always will be. I hope you rot in hell motherfucker.” – Libby Jagger … “Groucho Marx had many stories about Berle. “You’re not funny,” he once told Berle. Berle’s reply, “Everything I know, I stole from you, Grouch.” Groucho, unplacated, shot back, “Then you didn’t listen.” … “It is nobler to declare oneself wrong than to insist on being right – especially when one is right.” -Friedrich Nietzsche … “Happiness is the meaning and the purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence.” -Aristotle … “Every passing minute is a chance to turn it all around.” -Vanilla Sky … “I Dont like Quotes” ~Doguls Franklin … Integrity has no need for rules. ~ A. Camus … i have an eating disorder, i have ocd, i need things to be fucking perfect. 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More people have been brought into the church by the kindness of real Christian love than by all the theological arguments in the world, and more people have been driven from the church by the hardness and ugliness of so-called Christianity than by all the doubts in the world. …“There is all the difference in the world between treating people equally and attempting to make them equal.” …“Writers end up writing stories–or rather, stories’ shadows–and they’re grateful if they can, but it is not enough….Nothing the writer can do is ever enough” — Joy Williams …Jesus wears a WWRPD bracelet. … “It’s not a coma, she’s the opposite of numb. Some people soak pain up, and your sister is a sponge.” …It’s not that I don’t like subtlety so much, it is indirect communication that drives me bonkers.I don’t understand it and it makes me feel manipulated. …”Wisdom is much better than weapons of war”(Ecc 9:18), and, I would add, resorting to weapons of war reflects a lack of wisdom …. pictures today are from ” The Special Collections and Archives,Georgia State University Library” … selah






Calamus Part One

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on August 16, 2011





In Paths Untrodden

In paths untrodden,
In the growth by margins of pond-waters,
Escaped from the life that exhibits itself,
From all the standards hitherto publish’d, from the pleasures,
profits, conformities,
Which too long I was offering to feed my soul,
Clear to me now standards not yet publish’d, clear to me that my soul,
That the soul of the man I speak for rejoices in comrades,
Here by myself away from the clank of the world,
Tallying and talk’d to here by tongues aromatic,
No longer abash’d, (for in this secluded spot I can respond
as I would not dare elsewhere,)
Strong upon me the life that does not exhibit itself, yet contains all the rest,
Resolv’d to sing no songs to-day but those of manly attachment,
Projecting them along that substantial life,
Bequeathing hence types of athletic love,
Afternoon this delicious Ninth-month in my forty-first year,
I proceed for all who are or have been young men,
To tell the secret my nights and days,
To celebrate the need of comrades.

Scented Herbage of My Breast

Scented herbage of my breast,
Leaves from you I glean, I write, to be perused best afterwards,
Tomb-leaves, body-leaves growing up above me above death,
Perennial roots, tall leaves, O the winter shall not freeze you delicate leaves,
Every year shall you bloom again, out from where you retired
you shall emerge again;
O I do not know whether many passing by will discover you
or inhale your faint odor, but I believe a few will;
O slender leaves! O blossoms of my blood! I permit you to tell
in your own way of the heart that is under you,
O I do not know what you mean there underneath yourselves,
you are not happiness,
You are often more bitter than I can bear, you burn and sting me,
Yet you are beautiful to me you faint tinged roots, you make me think of death,
Death is beautiful from you, (what indeed is finally beautiful
except death and love?)
O I think it is not for life I am chanting here my chant of lovers,
I think it must be for death,
For how calm, how solemn it grows to ascend to the atmosphere of lovers,
Death or life I am then indifferent, my soul declines to prefer,
(I am not sure but the high soul of lovers welcomes death most,)
Indeed O death, I think now these leaves mean precisely the same as you mean,
Grow up taller sweet leaves that I may see! grow up out of my breast!
Spring away from the conceal’d heart there!
Do not fold yourself so in your pink-tinged roots timid leaves!
Do not remain down there so ashamed, herbage of my breast!
Come I am determin’d to unbare this broad breast of mine,
I have long enough stifled and choked;
Emblematic and capricious blades I leave you, now you serve me not,
I will say what I have to say by itself,
I will sound myself and comrades only,
I will never again utter a call only their call,
I will raise with it immortal reverberations through the States,
I will give an example to lovers to take permanent shape
and will through the States,
Through me shall the words be said to make death exhilarating,
Give me your tone therefore O death, that I may accord with it,
Give me yourself, for I see that you belong to me now above all,
and are folded inseparably together, you love and death are,
Nor will I allow you to balk me any more with what I was calling life,
For now it is convey’d to me that you are the purports essential,
That you hide in these shifting forms of life, for reasons,
and that they are mainly for you,
That you beyond them come forth to remain, the real reality,
That behind the mask of materials you patiently wait, no matter how long,
That you will one day perhaps take control of all,
That you will perhaps dissipate this entire show of appearance,
That may-be you are what it is all for, but it does not last so very long,
But you will last very long.

Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand

Whoever you are holding me now in hand,
Without one thing all will be useless,
I give you fair warning before you attempt me further,
I am not what you supposed, but far different.

Who is he that would become my follower?
Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections?

The way is suspicious, the result uncertain, perhaps destructive,
You would have to give up all else, I alone would expect to be
your sole and exclusive standard,
Your novitiate would even then be long and exhausting,
The whole past theory of your life and all conformity to the lives around you
would have to be abandon’d,
Therefore release me now before troubling yourself any further,
let go your hand from my shoulders,
Put me down and depart on your way.

Or else by stealth in some wood for trial,
Or back of a rock in the open air,
(For in any roof’d room of a house I emerge not, nor in company,
And in libraries I lie as one dumb, a gawk, or unborn, or dead,)
But just possibly with you on a high hill, first watching lest any person
for miles around approach unawares,
Or possibly with you sailing at sea, or on the beach of the sea
or some quiet island,
Here to put your lips upon mine I permit you,
With the comrade’s long-dwelling kiss or the new husband’s kiss,
For I am the new husband and I am the comrade.

Or if you will, thrusting me beneath your clothing,
Where I may feel the throbs of your heart or rest upon your hip,
Carry me when you go forth over land or sea;
For thus merely touching you is enough, is best,
And thus touching you would I silently sleep and be carried eternally.

But these leaves conning you con at peril,
For these leaves and me you will not understand,
They will elude you at first and still more afterward, I will certainly elude you.
Even while you should think you had unquestionably caught me, behold!
Already you see I have escaped from you.

For it is not for what I have put into it that I have written this book,
Nor is it by reading it you will acquire it,
Nor do those know me best who admire me and vauntingly praise me,
Nor will the candidates for my love (unless at most a very few) prove victorious,
Nor will my poems do good only, they will do just as much evil, perhaps more,
For all is useless without that which you may guess at many times and not hit,
that which I hinted at;
Therefore release me and depart on your way.

For You, O Democracy

Come, I will make the continent indissoluble,
I will make the most splendid race the sun ever shone upon,
I will make divine magnetic lands,
With the love of comrades,
With the life-long love of comrades.

I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers of America,
and along the shores of the great lakes, and all over the prairies,
I will make inseparable cities with their arms about each other’s necks,
By the love of comrades,
By the manly love of comrades.

For you these from me, O Democracy, to serve you ma femme!
For you, for you I am trilling these songs.





These I Singing in Spring

These I singing in spring collect for lovers,
(For who but I should understand lovers and all their sorrow and joy?
And who but I should be the poet of comrades?)
Collecting I traverse the garden the world, but soon I pass the gates,
Now along the pond-side, now wading in a little, fearing not the wet,
Now by the post-and-rail fences where the old stones thrown there,
pick’d from the fields, have accumulated,
(Wild-flowers and vines and weeds come up through the stones and partly cover them,beyond these I pass,)
Far, far in the forest, or sauntering later in summer,
before I think where I go,
Solitary, smelling the earthy smell, stopping now and then in the silence,
Alone I had thought, yet soon a troop gathers around me,
Some walk by my side and some behind, and some embrace my arms or neck,
They the spirits of dear friends dead or alive, thicker they come,
a great crowd, and I in the middle,
Collecting, dispensing, singing, there I wander with them,
Plucking something for tokens, tossing toward whoever is near me,
Here, lilac, with a branch of pine,
Here, out of my pocket, some moss which I pull’d off a live-oak
in Florida as it hung trailing down,
Here, some pinks and laurel leaves, and a handful of sage,
And here what I now draw from the water, wading in the pondside,
(O here I last saw him that tenderly loves me,
and returns again never to separate from me,
And this, O this shall henceforth be the token of comrades, this
calamus-root shall,
Interchange it youths with each other! let none render it back!)
And twigs of maple and a bunch of wild orange and chestnut,
And stems of currants and plum-blows, and the aromatic cedar,
These I compass’d around by a thick cloud of spirits,
Wandering, point to or touch as I pass, or throw them loosely from me,
Indicating to each one what he shall have, giving something to each;
But what I drew from the water by the pond-side, that I reserve,
I will give of it, but only to them that love as I myself am capable of loving.

Not Heaving from My Ribb’d Breast Only

Not heaving from my ribb’d breast only,
Not in sighs at night in rage dissatisfied with myself,
Not in those long-drawn, ill-supprest sighs,
Not in many an oath and promise broken,
Not in my wilful and savage soul’s volition,
Not in the subtle nourishment of the air,
Not in this beating and pounding at my temples and wrists,
Not in the curious systole and diastole within which will one day cease,
Not in many a hungry wish told to the skies only,
Not in cries, laughter, defiancies,
thrown from me when alone far in the wilds,
Not in husky pantings through clinch’d teeth,
Not in sounded and resounded words, chattering words, echoes, dead words,
Not in the murmurs of my dreams while I sleep,
Nor the other murmurs of these incredible dreams of every day,
Nor in the limbs and senses of my body that take you
and dismiss you continually—not there,
Not in any or all of them O adhesiveness! O pulse of my life!
Need I that you exist and show yourself any more than in these songs.

Of the Terrible Doubt of Appearances

Of the terrible doubt of appearances,
Of the uncertainty after all, that we may be deluded,
That may-be reliance and hope are but speculations after all,
That may-be identity beyond the grave is a beautiful fable only,
May-be the things I perceive, the animals, plants, men, hills,
shining and flowing waters,
The skies of day and night, colors, densities, forms,
may-be these are (as doubtless they are) only apparitions,
and the real something has yet to be known,
(How often they dart out of themselves as if to confound me and mock me!
How often I think neither I know, nor any man knows, aught of them,)
May-be seeming to me what they are (as doubtless they indeed but seem)
as from my present point of view, and might prove (as of course they would)
nought of what they appear, or nought anyhow,
from entirely changed points of view;
To me these and the like of these are curiously answer’d by my lovers,
my dear friends,
When he whom I love travels with me or sits a long while holding me by the hand,
When the subtle air, the impalpable, the sense that words and reason hold not,
surround us and pervade us,
Then I am charged with untold and untellable wisdom, I am silent,
I require nothing further,
I cannot answer the question of appearances
or that of identity beyond the grave,
But I walk or sit indifferent, I am satisfied,
He ahold of my hand has completely satisfied me.

Poems are from Leaves of Grass, Book V: Calamus by Walt Whitman.
Text is courtesy of Project Gutenberg.
Formatting of text, and pictures, by Chamblee 54.





The Life After Death Post

Posted in Uncategorized by chamblee54 on August 16, 2011






This post has been in the works for a long time. It is about life after death. This is a big deal to Jesus worshipers. It is fair to say that the entire religion has devolved into a scheme for life after death. Either you agree, and go to heaven, or disagree, and go to hell. PG has thought long and hard about this, and has a few thoughts.

One problem with this concept is human nature. When you have a religion based on broadcasting a message, some of the believers go overboard. Some will let their pride get in the way. They enjoy the power that seems to come with spreading this message. When a person hears this “good news,” shouted by people who are bad news, then it is natural to doubt the message.

A facebook friend supplied this quote
“More people have been brought into the church by the kindness of real Christian love than by all the theological arguments in the world, and more people have been driven from the church by the hardness and ugliness of so-called Christianity than by all the doubts in the world. ” . The $64 question becomes: Do people who have been repelled from Jesus go to hell?
There is also the matter of people who simply do not agree with the scheme for life after death. Of all the standards to use, why would G-d use the doctrine of one branch, of one religion? Does G-d even exist? Are the billions of people who never even heard of Jesus destined for hell? Many good people ask a lot of good questions.
They are not happy with the answers, no matter how much others may believe.
PG was raised in the Southern Baptist tradition. For various reasons, he resisted the pressure put on children to “make a profession of faith”, and be baptised. When he was 17, he quit going to church. In 1979, there was a week in a Moonie camp in California. There have been many books read, a bit of thinking and talking, and a few odd meetings attended. There were 7 years working closely with an abusive professional Jesus worshiper. After a while, PG got tired of worrying about it all, and just wanted to enjoy the time he has on this planet.

Which brings us to today’s post. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. These men were Union soldiers in the War Between the States. In no particular order, here is the product.

1- G-d does not write books. The Bible was compiled by the Council of Nicea from a variety of texts. These texts were written in a multitude of languages, and copied by hand. It is possible that the scribes copying them made mistakes. It is possible that errors in translation were made. It is probable that texts were not included in the Bible, for various reasons. The Bible is the product of man’s labor, with possible inspiration by G-d.

The first commandment says Thou shalt have no other gods before me. When you call the Bible the word of G-d, you are, in effect, making a G-d out of a book. When you violate this common sense commandment, you are going to have problems.

2- The first commandment… Thou shalt have no other gods before me. .. does not make an exception for the so called son of G-d.

3- Jesus was killed because he was a trouble maker. His death, and reputed resurrection, have nothing to do with what happens when you die.

4- What happens to people after they die is none of your business. Living people should be concerned with life, and not worry about what will happen when you die.

5- You should have faith in G-d to take care of you when you die. Period. Don’t scream about Jesus. Don’t kill the infidel. Don’t worry about your soul. G-d took care of you before you were born, and she will take care of you after you die.

6- What you say does not become more true the louder you say it. The way you say something is more important than the words you say. It is more important to show kindness to your neighbor, than to scream the so called truth.

7- The decision to end a life is G-d’s job. You are better off when you let her make this call. This applies to war, abortion, captal punishment, and euthanasia, and other forms of humans ending life.

8- G-d should be enjoyed. G-d should bring nourishment to life. G-d should NOT be fought or argued over. The third commandment…Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy God in vain; for the LORD will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain. … is another common sense rule that is shamelessly violated by those who claim to be “saved”. When you forget this rule, you cause trouble.

9- When copying some commandments for use in this post, PG found this. 23 Ye shall not make with me gods of silver, neither shall ye make unto you gods of gold. PG has heard about the ten commandments all his life, and yet has never heard this line. It is just 6 verses after the tenth commandment, which is about coveting.  The tenth commandment  is obsolete in this era of wealthy churches.