Las Vegas: Daze Two And Three

After the bus ride of Tuesday, I was fairly certain that Wednesday and Thursday could not match that adventure.  But really, it was not Wednesday's and Thursday's fault.  On Wednesday I decided to simply stay around the hotel and "veg" while my lovely bride was in her seminars.  Vegging is hard work, and before I knew it I had vegged right into lunchtime.  I was supposed to have lunch ready for my lovely bride, so I raced out of the hotel, finally escaped the Twilight Zone (see Day One Half) and made it to the Strip.  I then began walking in search of a Chipotle's I had seen the day before while on the (infamous) bus ride.  I walked several blocks from the Mirage and began to believe that the Chipotle's I had seen was also a mirage!  So I did what few male humans are brave enough to do.  No...don't be silly...I DID NOT ASK FOR DIRECTIONS!  Even I would not do THAT!  What I did was cross the street (at great risk to myself) and then I backtracked in the opposite direction.

Several blocks later I found the Chipotle's!  And even better, there was still time to order food and get back to the hotel room, arrange the food, and sit down at the table as if I had been waiting for my lovely bride for at least half an hour.  All I had to do was walk out of Chipotle's and find the Mirage.  So, gathering my food and drinks, I stepped out the door and looked to my right.  Uh...no Mirage!  That was okay because I could still look to my left.  So I did.  No MIRAGE!!  I was just about to do the unthinkable, that is, ask for directions, when I looked (for lack of any better plan) STRAIGHT ACROSS THE STREET, and there right in front of my eyes, was the Mirage!  All I had to do was cross the street!  So I went the ped crossing, pushed the "walk" button, and waited...and waited...and waited...and waited...Gazooks, was this light EVER going to change?! 

Three light-cycles later I realized it was NOT going to change.  The crowd on both sides of the road had built to over 15000 or so by now.  And I had only about ten minutes to get to my room, arrange dinner, and pretend I had been waiting all this time.  So, watching the FOURTH light cycle, I realized that when certain red lights came on, it was safe to cross the street whether or not the "walk" sign came on.  So when the cars stopped I STARTED walking.  Fifteen thousand other people saw me take that first step and the result was amazing.  Almost in unison, the fifteen thousand all took their first step in time with my second step.  And I raced through the Mirage lobby, up the elevator, and to our room.  I got all the food arranged, the drinks set up, and took my chair.  I had just managed to get a bored look on my face when the door opened, and there was Sweetie.  She was so happy to see that lunch was waiting!  I said, "Of COURSE I had lunch ready!"  (wink wink)

After lunch I did more vegging, then we were off to Bubba Gump's.  We ordered seafood and drinks.  I had some kind of weird drink whose name I can't recall.  I selected this one because I usually drink margaritas when I drink (at restaurants).  It had a strange flavor that was OK but I decided it would not be my favorite.  But this weird drink had a somewhat unexpected (er...STRONGER than expected) effect on me (thus this post's title) and started the dining room slowly rotating, which I did not know Bubba Gump's did.  But it was not an unpleasing sensation.  My lovely bride had sampled another weird drink.  Her drink tasted much different than mine but had a similar effect on her.  Suffice to say that by the time we had woven...er, walked to our room, we were in somewhat of a daze.  Where did the night go?  For that matter, where did my cell phone go?  Oh, there it is on the floor....

Next morning my lovely bride was gone before I fully regained consciousness.  This was an indication to me that I needed to "veg" again.  Next thing I knew, the phone was ringing.  My lovely bride wanted me to have lunch ready again.  It was a repeat of yesterday, except that I had plenty of time.  Next thing I knew the phone message signal beeped again and I realized I had dazed...er, dozed off again!  Like I said, vegging is hard work.  I raced to Chipotle's (which I very astutely remembered was straight across the street) and ordered the same meal we had the day before, which was so tasty we wanted it again.  I then raced back to the hotel and nearly ran right over my lovely bride, who was making her way to the elevator.  What timing!  So we had our lunch, then she went back to her seminars, and I went back to...vegging.  What a rough day!

A couple of hours later we met my cousin at the front door.  He took us to a Mexican food restaurant that had tasty food.  I think it did.  They said it did.  It was just that by the time we decided to order food, after a couple of hours of imbibing margaritas, my taste buds were...er, vegging.  So I took their word for it that the food was excellent.  It turns out that this particular restaurant uses the slogan, "Save our water, Drink more Margaritas."  So we finished dinner, and this also finished our second and third daze in Las Vegas.  It was straight home and to the rack.  We had a lot of driving waiting for us Friday morning.

Viva Las Vegas!  (SHUT UP...My head HURTS!!)

Las Vegas: Day One Full Day

On Tuesday, the first FULL day of our Las Vegas trip, my lovely bride had to register for her conference first thing in the morning.  After that she hung her poster in the presentation room.  I have to brag on her here.  She is becoming a nationally recognized stroke expert and nurse education expert as well.  Her poster was selected for presentation here, so that is a pretty good feather in her bonnet.  Soon we left the convention center and were off on our day's adventure.  We purchased two bus passes good for the remainder of the week.  Most likely our vehicle will stay safely squared away on the 6th level of the parking garage all week, as we make our way around town on the bus.

So our first mission was to go to the Premium Outlet Mall South, out on South Grand Central Parkway.  I proudly held my bus pass and waited for the express bus that would take us to our destination with just a couple stops between, according to the informative sign.  Our bus arrived about 11:OO AM and we were off.  I have to complement Las Vegas city management.  The buses were clean and mostly free of less than reputable citizens, although more about that later!  Within a few minutes I had figured out (very cleverly so, I believe) that the upcoming "stop" appeared on a display screen just before the stop came up.  I very happily explained this system to my lovely bride, but it appeared that she had mastered this system much sooner than had I, and was merely observing me as I tried to figure it all out.  But, she pointed out, she was not laughing AT me....

I was still a little nervous about possibly missing our appointed stop, thus revealing to my lovely bride that I maybe had not mastered the system as well as I was letting on, when she explained to me that she had observed that a certain passenger was wearing a t-shirt with the logo of the Premium Outlet Mall on the front.  She further informed me that she had deduced that she would be more likely to get off at the correct location if she observed this female get off the bus, since the lady had told someone in Spanish that she was on the way to "trabaja."  I asked how far from Las Vegas was Trabaja.  Here my lovely bride informed me that the lady had said she was on the way to "trabaja," to WORK.  Then she told me again how she was laughing WITH me....

A few blocks later the bus stopped, and sure enough the lady in the gray t-shirt got out of her seat and exited the bus.  I turned to my lovely bride to let her know this, when I noticed that my lovely bride was already halfway out the door.  So I fell in line and we walked across a 145 degree parking lot (did I mention that once the moon sets in Vegas the temp immediately hits 125 degrees?) to the Premium Outlet Mall - South.  I only point out that this was the SOUTH outlet mall because this will become relevant a little further along in this very truthful and unembellished account of the day's travel.  Anyway, at a temperature of 145 degrees, ones Adidas(s) become somewhat gummy as one races across the parking lot to the 135 degree cement outside the shopping mall.  Fortunately the air temperature at "nose level" has cooled to a brisk 130 degrees by the time a standing or walking person inhales.  I feel very sorry for the little children who only stand a couple of feet off the ground, for they do not benefit from the cooling effect of the rising air.

Once inside the Premium Outlet Mall my lovely bride immediately heads for the Dooney and Bourke Outlet Store.  Unfortunately after a short fifteen mile stroll we fail to locate said store.  Finding a nearby directory sign, my lovely bride scans the map for the Dooney and Bourke Store.  Guess what?  There was not such a store here.  Trying to be a hero, I told her that I would search the directory...but I wound up a zero since I had to report that there did not appear to be a Dooney and Bourke Outlet Store in this mall.  My lovely bride said she KNEW that!  Guess what?  She was definitely not laughing WITH me now...in fact she basically was not laughing at all.  It turned out that the Dooney and Bourke Outlet Store in question was at the Premium Outlet Mall NORTH...that is to say at the OTHER end of Las Vegas.  It was here that I suggested a meal might be in order.  My lovely bride agreed, because I sometimes get cranky when I go for prolonged periods without food.  Plus, it was possibly MY error that had sent us to the SOUTH Premium Outlet Mall.  I just saying that was a possibility, not that that was by any means a certainty.  Er...ah hem.....

So after having partaken of the noon meal, we once again boarded the bus and headed North.  I was proud of myself THIS time.  I was able to get us off the bus at the correct stop WITHOUT the aid of an employee going to "trabaja."  My lovely bride did not seem all that impressed, and really, I could hardly make a mistake since this was the last premium outlet mall in town.  But, heroes are as heroes do!  We made our way to the Premium Outlet Mall North and quickly made two discoveries.  First, the cement temperature had now risen to 145 degrees, and second, THIS mall had outdoor sidewalks.  But, regardless of those two obstacles, we made our way to the middle of the shopping center where we finally located another directory sign. 

This time there WAS a Dooney and Bourke Outlet Store listed on the map, and lucky for us, it appeared to be only about a four mile hike from our present location.  But my lovely bride was undeterred now.  A Dooney and Bourke purse awaited her.  So we headed off in the direction indicated.   Only a couple of hours later...I mean only about five or ten minutes later (time seems to crawl when the temp is over 150 degrees) we arrived at the Dooney and Bourke Store.  And we were in luck: All the purses in most of the display areas were 40 percent OFF!  My lovely bride was elated.  I had a more somber view, thinking to myself that even 40 percent off the average D and B purse left a balance of three to five hundred dollars!

We entered the Dooney and Bourke Store and my lovely bride, forgetting the seared flesh at the tops of the soles of her shoes, began shopping in earnest for a new Dooney and Bourke purse, and possibly one or two accessories (also forty percent off) to go with the purse.  After all, what is a purse (even a Dooney and Bourke purse) with no accessories?  I simply stayed out of the way, offering an "ooh" or "ah" as appropriate when my lovely bride showed me this or that purse.  And wallet.  And smaller purse.  And smaller wallet.  And finally something even SMALLER than a wallet that apparently went INSIDE the wallet which then went inside the purse.  And one could mix or match colors and patterns as one desired.  And the beauty of it was that all of this was 40 percent OFF!!

While my lovely bride was thusly engaged (and I was standing VERY out of the way) an elderly couple walked in.  The female of the couple went immediately to a very LARGE D and B purse and exclaimed over it with much exclaiming.  I could understand all the exclaiming; however, for this purse looked like it would definitely hold a wallet, the little thing that went in the wallet, plus the purse that the wallet went in, plus two grandkids and a Chihuahua.  And it was available in four colors and two prints.  Then something unusual (at least to me) happened.  The male of the couple walked over to his spouse (I am making the assumption here) and pointed out to her that the purse she was so excited about did not feature some kind or other of pocket that would make it practical.  The woman said she really liked the purse but her husband INSISTED that she look at OTHER purses first.  I have to admit here that I wondered to myself who was actually going to USE the purse that this lady might purchase. 

Leaving the lady looking disappointed and still holding the very cavernous, but apparently pocketless, purse the husband walked to another part of the store, selected a NEARLY as cavernous purse and began examining the interior of the purse with the selective eye of a diamond buyer.  He apparently found that there were a suitable number of pockets or zips in the purse and thus began an inspection of the exterior of the purse.  He ran his fingers along the outer material and the leather corners.  He then opened the purse once again and pulled out the included shoulder strap, apparently examining it for craftsmanship and imperfections as well.  Across the way, his spouse finally surrendered the huge purse back to the display and walked to her husband, who had by now picked out three purses that he felt suited HER needs. 

I was still watching this couple arguing over purses for the lady when my lovely bride announced that she had made her final selections, and what did I think of them?  It was a smallish purse (by HER standards) and a small, matching wallet.  I issued the appropriate "oohs" and "ahs" and said I believed they suited her well.  Yes, I liked the colors. Once I would have called this color purple, but these days, for all I know the color could be called egg plant or, who knows, shale.  Maybe lavender, except lighter (Shhhh...I still think it is purple).  So my lovely bride took her selections to the check out, where the clerk announced that the forty percent off would be deducted "during the purchase transaction."  While the clerk was still pushing buttons and the computer was whirring away, my lovely bride suddenly hit me with a surprise.  "Honey, YOU are buying THESE!  It's my birthday!"

Gadzooks! As a male (slower at thought than the female of the species) I was still processing the probable cost that my lovely bride would pay for the purse set, even with forty percent off when she hit me with this bombshell!  But it WAS soon to be her birthday, and she loved that little ensemble so much I just could not turn her down.  Plus I still had to ride all the way from Las Vegas back to Midland with her, so I thought what a great birthday gift it would be...AND it was forty percent off!  So the birthday girl was pleased...but I am not so sure about the older lady.  Her husband was just not letting her get the purse she wanted.  I hope for his sake it was not HER birthday!

I gathered up my lovely bride's treasure and we made our way back to the bus stop.  Little did we know how interesting this ride was about to become.  We had to ride the bus back to the south end of the Strip so that we could meet my lovely bride's cousin for dinner in just about thirty minutes.  Even with the bus stopping a couple of times we planned to be there and waiting for him.  Just about this time the bus, which was stopped on a hill waiting for the red light, began rolling backward.  Then it lost all power.  With the power went the air conditioner.  Did I mention it had just topped 145 degrees or so?  The driver tried to start the engine several times, but only succeeded in vapor-locking the engine while nearly crushing a car that was stopped behind the bus.

Suddenly things got bad!  A guy at the back of the bus began saying rather loudly, but with a bit of humor, "Seriously?  I'm baking alive back here!  You need to get the AC running again because we're(expletive) burning alive back here!"

Then as a second thought he added, "Can you let me off the (expletiving) bus?!"

A muted voice came over the public address system and said something like "the door will not be opened while the bus is disabled."

Suddenly the gentleman who used colorful but humorous language was no longer full of humor.  He started walking quickly toward the front of the bus.  Here I should point out that the City of Las Vegas, possibly foreseeing such situations, had coated the cockpit with thickened, bullet-proof, shock-proof to three atmospheres, and probably pressure-cooker bomb proof plexiglass.  In this case, the City's wisdom proved prophetic.  The now quite angry gentleman was beating on the glass and loudly (with many expletives) demanding that the driver open the door for him.  The driver told the man she could not open the door for him.  He turned around and said "I'll (expletiving) show you what I can (expletive, expletive, expletive) do with this (expletiving) door!"  He began frantically searching around the doors presumably looking for an emergency opening switch, which apparently was not provided on this model bus. 

The man then shouted, "Where are those (expletive, expletive, expletiving) removable windows at?!"  Someone pointed to the front emergency exit window.  I am telling the truth, the man went to the window, told someone to move out of the (expletive) way, and quicker than you could write it, was out the window and stomping away down the sidewalk, casting expletives over his shoulder at the highly relieved bus driver.  Truth be known, most everyone on the bus was relieved that he was gone!

As he jumped out the window I yelled, "Have a great day, my friend!" 

My lovely bride whacked me on the shoulder and said that I should not yell at him and that he was not my friend.  Well, that is not exactly the way she said it but that is the general drift.  She was afraid I would enrage the man who might come back and open fire on the bus.  I told her that was silly, we did not know for sure that he was armed!  She did not see the humor here.  Plus it was about 155 degrees inside the bus now because someone had closed the emergency exit, presumably so the angry bus customer could not get back in.  We sautéed and grilled in the bus for another fifteen minutes or so when suddenly the doors opened.  Mind you, the bus was still without power.  Apparently the bus driver really COULD open the door when the power was off.  As we melted out the various exits, the driver announced that we would have to catch the next bus, which was about five minutes away.

The next bus did in fact stop to pick us up, but it was crowded beyond any pretext of capacity.  It was now rush hour so the buses were crowded anyway, and now the load was nearly tripled.  With no further ado we began the trek back across town.  In the meantime, my lovely bride's cousin was getting a little antsy while waiting for us at local pizza house.  But in a short while we were there and reunited with a cousin we had not seen in several years.  There was lots of lively conversation, particularly about our lately unpleasant bus ride.  After a fine dinner we went on a tour of Cousin's workplace, then it was time for him to do some homework and time for us to get back to the hotel.

It was a rather interesting bus ride after a day of shopping, but even with the troubles we had, it was still a bargain and not really that big a hassle to ride the bus around the Strip rather than to risk our car and be lost on the way to every destination, as well.  And it was sure nice to get back to the hotel.  We were both still recovering from the convection oven bus we had been trapped in for about thirty minutes.  Surely tomorrow's adventures will be anticlimactic.

Here's to a fun day tomorrow, and Viva Las Vegas!

Las Vegas: Day One/Half

My lovely bride (a registered nurse), is attending a nurse convention in Las Vegas this week, and I went along for the ride.  That's right, we drove, leaving Midland early Monday morning.  Not only do I love driving and seeing different places and things along the way, I also seem to do better when all the wheels of the vehicle I am in remain in close contact with the ground.  Granted, flying from Midland to Las Vegas takes roughly negative one hour (due to time zone changes), but why fly only negative one hour when a person can drive sixteen hours and get there the same day?  Plus, there are all the attractions and distractions along the way.

We made great time through New Mexico, although I was very disappointed because we did not see a single flying saucer while we were in the Roswell area or any other area for that matter.  There were not even any aliens walking the streets of downtown Roswell.  But all of that was forgotten because of all the hawks (one of my favorite birds) spread throughout the state all the way up to Cline's Corner.  Of course once we were on Interstate 40, there was very few birds of prey.  But I was watching other things.  I must have been because my lovely bride kept telling me to watch the road!  But I say why watch the road when there are so many things to watch OFF the road.  Don't worry, though, because my lovely bride almost ran us off the road several times in retribution for my less than professional driving.

Then we entered Arizona.  That's when the drive went a little more sour.  It seems like there was a construction zone every four or five miles, and the zones stretched five or ten miles in length.  The speeds were reduced in these zones from seventy-five miles per hour all the way down to fifty-five.  Then we hit the "reduced speeds" signs, in which zones we could only travel forty-five miles per hour.  I confess at one point that Southwest was looking good to me.  But I got over that pretty fast when we stopped at Winslow at the Flying J.  I must confess here that due to the increased travel time because of road construction, I did not stand on a corner in Winslow, Arizona but instead RAN to the men's room at the Flying J.  Probably it was while I was in the men's room there that I missed the "girl, my lord, in a flat bed Ford slowin' down to take a look at me."  By the time I got out the flatbed Ford was long gone.  And we were back on Interstate 40 once again.

Just outside of Flagstaff we relived the accident we witnessed this time last year, when a Tahoe went airborne right beside us and flew out into the median, rolled end over end, and came to rest upside down with the nose buried in the mud.  This time, though, it was not raining and there was no accident.  We just went on through to Kingman and made the turn toward Las Vegas.  Seventy miles later we were at our hotel.  I was so happy to be here even though it was a rather uneventful drive, as far as MY drives go. Then...we went out to eat, as it was well past seven o'clock by now.

I had waited until I was really starving before mentioning that supper would be nice.  My lovely bride sensing that I was somewhat "cranky" also suggested that we go eat, too, and quickly.  So we left our room, took the elevator to the Lobby, and went to get dinner.  Except that instead of leaving to get dinner we found ourselves lost in an endless circle of card tables, slot machines, convention rooms, and bars.  And there were some restaurants in the hotel, too.  I know there were because we passed the Japonais FOURTEEN TIMES!  I was hearing a familiar music theme in my head by now, you know the one...do do do do...do do do do...do do do do....then that voice....

"Picture, if you will, a man and woman, both starving, and trying to find their way OUT of a casino.  And picture as well, a hotel lobby/casino purposely designed so that once inside, no mortal could ever find his or her way out of...the Twilight Zone."

I turned off the music and the Rod Serling and then approached two men in suits, pistols clearly outlined in their coats, and asked them..."Please, how do we get out of here?!"  They both laughed, and one of them said, "You obviously do not understand the design of casinos.  They DO NOT WANT you to get out.  That's beauty of this casino!"

The other armed guy said, "That's right.  You can check out any time you Like, but you can NEVER leave!"

(do do do do...do do do do...do do do do)

Then he said, "Just kidding.  All you have to do is walk straight through the slot machines and out THAT door."

I looked, and sure enough there was sunlight coming through what appeared to be a doorway only about two miles across the casino floor.  "Ha ha ha ha ha..." was all we heard as we fled across the floor and out the doorway.  And then I saw it...the Outback Restaurant. 

My lovely bride said, "Are you sure THAT'S where you want to eat?"

I said, "Yes."  There was not much else to say, especially since I was salivating and growing faint.

But once inside the Outback, even though the line was long, we were seated in just a few minutes.  My grilled porch chops arrived in a timely manner.  My bride was not hungry, but did imbibe in a drink called "Iwallabydanged."  I myself opted for a margarita.  Keep in mind I had not eaten in several hours.  Perhaps that is why the margarita seemed a little more powerful than those I usually drink at our hangout in Midland.  And perhaps that is why I felt it necessary to intervene in a situation going on at our neighboring dining table.

Across the aisle from us a large group of tourists were seated at a table for six.  Okay, so I guess there were six of them since each of them had a chair.  But, the reason I felt it necessary to involve myself with them even though I was perhaps not totally in control of all of my mental facilities was because four of the six people at the table had ordered hamburgers.  The other two had entrees.  Here I would like to point out, by way of further information for my reader(s) that this group of people were speaking what appeared to be (to a somewhat toasted Texan) French.  So I pegged them for tourists and persons not familiar with American customs.  That is why I felt my assistance was needed.

You see, the four of these tourists who were eating hamburgers were using their KNIVES AND FORKS to do so.  I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP (and I know my readers KNOW I would never make something up just to enliven my blog post)!!  So I did what ANY self-respecting Texan would do (even in Las Vegas).  I turned to these French tourists and said "No, no!"  They all quickly looked at me.  Once I had their undivided attention, I made the motion of holding the burger in both hands and taking a hearty bite out of the burger.  They just looked at me.  So I smiled then made the same signs again.  "Like that," I said.  They were all just looking at me strangely, and it was here that I noticed that my lovely bride had left our table and appeared to be headed for the door.  It was also here that I noticed that two of the French MEN did not appear to approve of what they must have perceived as my chastising of themselves and their women.  It was also about this time that the waitress returned from having ran my debit card.  So...I got up and faced the two French guys.

I took both of them on...no, not really.  What I really did was say "excuse me," point to the margarita glass, then make the crazy sign with my finger pointed at the side of my head.  "Too much tequila," I said.  The guys looked at my glass, looked at me, then started laughing.  Then I was given to understand by one of the French ladies that they NEVER picked up a hamburger and ate with their hands.  Never!

It was about this time that my lovely bride was visible just about to exit the establishment, so I followed suit, and thus did not get involved in a physical altercation with guests of our nation and of the great State of Nevada.  It was funny, though, that my lovely bride seemed a little...well...upset with me.  But I promise I had the best of intentions.  I mean, who would not immediately come to the aid of a person who thought it was proper to eat a hamburger with a knife and fork?

Viva Las Vegas!!

A Special Kind Of Stupid

My friends, there are times if someone calls you stupid, that person is inadvertently paying you a complement. I do not support and have never supported B O's policies (with VERY VERY RARE EXCEPTION) and do not believe every line published on ANY news service whether its Fox, CNN, NBC, or whatever. If this makes me "a special kind of stupid" I very proudly wear that title. If believing in the Constitution is a special kind of stupid, I am there. If agreeing that people have the right (on their own property, homes, vehicles, etc.) to fly whatever flag or bumper sticker or poster or whatever, makes me a special kind of stupid, I am there.

 As a police officer I had to guard a Black militant group as they held a rally, AND as a police officer I had to guard and protect a Klan group. Both groups had the right to assemble peacefully and say the things they wanted to say. Our soldiers have died and paid for that right over and over. The Klansmen sported swastikas, a very offensive symbol if it is used in the Nazi context. I did not LIKE protecting these people...and the funny thing was that BOTH groups spouted the same hate gospel, just with different targets. But, they had the right no matter whom they offended.

Now we are in this age of hypersensitivity, so that really no matter what we say, we are apt to offend SOMEONE. This is "a special kind of stupid" that I hope we can all recover from someday. The United States of America should be the example to rest of the world that different people of different opinions can still be one nation, a great nation, that can exist and thrive and be still be a shining beacon of Liberty instead of a nation of victims, wanting a corrupt and over-reaching government to "protect" them and eventually take ALL responsibility for their well-being.

God Bless (and HELP) America.

I AM OFFENDED

I am offended by a bunch of Muslim extremists around the world dealing out their hate and death, even to children and the elderly. I am offended by a supposed leader of the free world who places representatives of this group into high places in the government. I am offended by the Westboro Baptist Church holding themselves out to be representatives of the Christian faith. I am offended by people who must use their wealth, power with the media, or whatever other means they have, to tell Americans what is offensive and what is not...and that Americans MUST agree or risk offending others. I am offended by man who is not even strong enough in himself to leave the Confederate flag painted on what is an iconic part of television history. I am particularly offended by the fact that the tragedy of an obviously deranged, delusional person who murdered several beautiful, innocent people was used to force an idea on the nation, and that anyone who did not accept that idea was placed in the status of "supporting slavery, hatred, and racism." I am offended MOST by the fact that Americans now are less free than EVER in the history of this nation to express their many opinions. No, the Government is not censoring us...we ourselves are doing it. We "tolerate" differences and diversity in ANY FORM OR FASHION EXCEPT TRADITIONAL VALUES. A comedy like "The Dukes of Hazzard" is cancelled, while EVERY SUNDAY you can find on the Internet "Reverend" Wright's hate-filled messages that our Leader apparently follows. For instance this message (below) from that great Christian preacher. I find this pretty offensive, but Reverend Wright had the right to say it, and I have the right to disagree. But it appears that in present day America (two terms into Obamistan) if ANYONE says ANYTHING that OFFENDS ANYONE, that person can be and is branded racist, a hater, a "redneck," 
 

As for me, I firmly believe that my right to my own opinions, expressions, flag-waving, car bumper-stickering, is STILL INVIOLATE, and I am strong enough in myself to post those things I want to post. If that makes me a racist and a "hater" (definition: someone who disagrees with someone else), than feel free to slather me with all the insults, labels, threats, or whatever you want. I am not a Confederate, but I am a Texan, and proud of my heritage. I am not a slave-owner and I had NOTHING to do with owning slaves. I am proud of Texans, old and new, as a whole. And I am proud of America....proud to be an American first, then a Texan.
 

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Obama's Pastor: God Damn America

Sen. Barack Obama's pastor says blacks should not sing "God Bless America" but "God damn America." The Rev. Jeremiah Wright, Obama's pastor for the last 20 years at the Trinity United Church of Christ on Chicago's south side, has a long history of what even Obama's campaign aides concede is...

abcnews.go.com|By ABC News

 

I guess what is MOST OFFENSIVE is that we have sat back and let the nation come to this.  That is that we are afraid to have opinions anymore here in America because someone MAY be offended by an opinion.    No, we should ALL be free to have and express our opinions, whether others are offended or not.  This is STILL America, and America is STILL the LAND OF THE FREE.