Random Thoughts While Watching It Rain

As I write this, I am sitting out on my porch swing watching it rain. I had planned to be playing golf about now. But Rick, my personal attorney and former golf partner who has represented me in the past on various delicate matters of potential difficulty, and whom I have been forced to retain again in order to refute the numerous baseless claims of libel currently lodged me and this blog, brought the rain with him when he and his wife returned from their vacation in Utah. It hasn't rained here in 3 solid weeks. And just as soon as the sonuvabitch sets foot back in Little Rock, the bottom drops out.

I also refer to him in the past tense golf-wise as while he was over in Mormon country, I played three of the best rounds of golf I have ever played in my sorry career. Likewise, I attribute this burst of relative competence on my part on the fact that he has been nowhere to be found the last 10 days.

Before anybody brings it up, let me acknowledge that to blame Rick for the rain and to assign my recent golf scores to the salubrious effect of his absence from the state would seem to be a textbook example of the Doctrine of False Cause, first articulated by Plato. My response to that is something my mother always fell back on whenever it was pointed out to her-generally by me-that whatever sermonette she happened to be delivering at the time had no basis in fact or was otherwise devoid of internal logical consistency. She would always say, " You don't know it isn't true." Which, of course, is an Argument from Ignorance, another one of the logical fallacies articulated first by "you know who." What the hell. If it was good enough for Mom it is good enough for me.

His Yoke is Easy and His Burden is Light : If you ever had any doubts that Pat Robertson is completely nuts one only need go to his website at http://www.cbn.com/communitypublic/shake.asp . Evidently, he has grown weary dispensing the usual hokum, bad religion and politics of paranoia. Now he is claiming that he has developed a "protein shake" that is sufficiently energizing that after ingesting the shit he is able to leg press 2000 lbs. with ease.

As I have said on many occasions, I struggle from time to time with what I believe. But what I don't believe gets to the top fairly quickly. I don't believe for 5 minutes that God revealed unto Rev. Robertson that a tsunami was going to strike the East Coast in general and New York in particular as he claimed last month. Look. Everybody knows God hates New York seeing as how it is home to gay folks, Jews, the New York Times, George Steinbrenner and the Clintons. If God, in His mercy, intended to strap a big ole honkin' tsunami on New York's sinful ass why would he warn it ahead of time? And if He intended to warn it of the wrath to come, why would he choose someone as his messenger who was 100% guaranteed to be ignored by virtually anyone with an IQ above 50? You would think God might be more sportin' than that. If He were so inclined that is.

No. I don't believe any of that shit. But I would believe that God speaks to Pat Robertson about meteorological matters before I would believe that an elderly man not named Jack LaLanne http://www.jacklalanne.com can press 2000 pounds. With or without a performance enhancing "protein shake."

But Pat Robertson Will Lift 2000 lbs. Before THIS Happens : An otherwise sensible friend of mine has made bold to predict that New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin will eventually be elected Governor of Louisiana. The State of Louisiana will elect a black person Governor about the time that Keith Richards becomes a Mormon. But even if you leave race out of it, New Orleans is Louisiana's problem child. The rest of the state feels about New Orleans the way Michigan feels about Detroit: that it is a money-sucking repository of every conceivable social ill known to man.

Granted, you could say the same thing about Lake Providence which is over by the Arkansas line. But LP is about 10 times smaller than New Orleans and it has no good restaurants. And Louisiana ain't gonna elect another redneck from up there after what the Longs did to the damn place.

But neither will the "Gret Stet" put a pol from NOLA in the Governor's Mansion. And besides, Ray Nagin is black, not to put too fine a point on it. He will be elected Governor about the time that Britney Spears does a recital at the Met. During a tsunami. Whether of not Pat calls it or not.

Ain't no way in hell.

Barry from San Francisco is our next caller, Bro. Robertson : Barry Bonds finally did it. He hit number 715 yesterday, thereby officially making him baseball's second all time home run hitter. This leaves him 40 shy of Henry Aaron's record of 755. It is highly doubtful that Bonds will pass Aaron this year. He has pretty much struggled at the plate so far this season. It is equally doubtful that he will catch Aaron, if indeed he does, in the uniform of the San Francisco Giants. He is virtually immobile at this stage of his career due to a balky knee that is exacerbated by the bulk that he put on through the probable use of illegal steroids.

I think we can say "probable use." I mean c'mon. He came into the league semi-built like me. This is not a compliment. I mean to suggest that at one time he resembled a normal human. Like his father.

It would not surprise me if he finished his career in the American League where they have the Designated Hitter rule and where he could semi-thrive as the second coming of Gates Brown or something. Of course, this would incite the stats geeks. You know, the kind of people who know who Gates Brown is.

But, unlike Gates Brown, who built up his arms in the joint, Barry clearly is in need of special help. My suggestion to him is to call Rev. Pat. Get on some of that "protein shake" now that you are cut off of "the clear." I think we can attribute your anemic numbers this year to the fact that you are now street legal. You need an edge.

Get on Pat's protein shake. Surely a man of the cloth wouldn't cut corners to give himself an advantage over similarly situated weight pumping con artist evangelists. Besides, if that shit can help a semi-deranged old peckerwood leg press a Honda, surely it will help you turn around on the rare inside fastball that isn't aimed at your enlarged head.

Hey Rick, I'm sorry that our golf partnership is splitsville over what you undoubtedly perceive to be irrational reasons. When I was in college, I acquainted my mother with the Logical Fallicies of Plato so that she might better ground her arguments in fact and logic. She told me that Plato wasn't paying for Hendrix College or for any of the other bills in the house and that she would appreciate it if I would keep my education pretty much to myself.

You aren't paying for my golf lessons. You are out of here.

But if the lawyers for Pat Robertson, Barry Bonds, Ray Nagin, or the Mayor of Lake Providence call me I will send them your way.

It is good to know that some things in a relationship never change.