Fringeville #209: Every time I think I’m out…

…they try to pull me back in.

While I occasionally get nibbles to come out of hibernation and back into politics, it's the garbage from government itself that tempts me the most to get back into the fray.

So far, it’s not working.

I firmly believe my days in organized politics are over. I'm a small government guy with conservative leanings. My kind is an endangered species.

But occasionally I see something on social media and I can’t hold back:

Government is encroaching on every aspect of our lives. You pretty much can’t do a damned thing without it touching you. Fees for this, permits for that, rain “taxes”, fuel taxes, property taxes, multiple auto registration taxes… the list is endless. If it exists, someone is looking for ways to tax it.

Kids can’t even run lemonade stands in some places without permission from some peon in government.

 

I’m starting to think more like my radical little brother:  When will government realize that all most people want is to be left the hell alone? (He used another word for hell, but I retain a small bit of class. Not much. Just a smidge.)

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Be good to each other. So far there is no tax on that.

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Fringeville #208: A NEW FEATURE! ...AND A DOUBLE-DOUBLE SHOT-SHOT

Tonight is the debut of “Ask the Fringe” here at Fringeville. The advice is absolutely free, and hence very likely useless. But it was doing this or a feature on politics.

The first and mercifully only question this week is from Bert in Cumberland County, who doesn’t want his last name released so that customers of his bait shop, located across from the Taco Bell on SR9999 and next to Lou’s Quality Used Cars, are unaware of the embarrassing situation he finds himself in.

Confidentiality rules on Fringeville.

Dear sir:

I am in a romantic pickle with my wife. I’m writing you because my buddy Roy said the French know a lot about romance. He told me about this “Ask the French” column, so I packaged up a bunch of bait, closed up the shop, and sat down to email you my plea for help.

Bessie and I have our 50^th wedding anniversary coming up in two weeks. We started dating in high school, and we’ve never been separated from each other by more than a day (fishing, hunting, golfing trips and a dozen or so gambling cruises excepted.)

I was sitting down for a fine meal of her sloppy Joe’s (she kicks ‘em up with diced jalapenos, and that’s two days of the runs but lord they’re good) and I says to her, “Bess, the 50^th anniversary is coming up. What do you want?”

Now I figured, maybe a new dishwasher or washing machine with a nice dinner out at Perkins. Good turkey dinner there. Lots of mashed potatoes, and they’ll put the gravy on the side if you ask.

Well, she looks at me and she says, “You know what I want, Bert? After fifty years, I want you to find my clitoris.”

Well, son, I damned near fell off’n the chair. But I kept my calm and promised her I would.

After dinner, I flat-out panicked. I obviously lost the thing long ago, and after half a century the sumbitch, whatever it is, could be anywhere. We’ve also moved twice, so good luck if it’s in the old house on Maple because that got leveled for a parking lot. We had that cute apartment on Main street but it burned down when that blimp hit it. There’s a damned tattoo joint there now.

Well I looked everywhere. Her jewelry box. My tool box. All the drawers in the kitchen (found my good pair of vice grips). I went through every box in the attic and cellar. I even emptied out the medicine cabinet. Found an old bottle of Mercurochrome, Lavoris, but no clitoris.

Well, now I needed one and I don’t even know where to get them. I called her best friend, Babs, and asked if she could help me get one. She shrieked and hung up on me. That’s when I realized it must be some really personal woman thing.

The only place I could think of that might help me was the drugstore downtown. I walked up to the counter and told the fellow I wanted a clitoris.

He leaned in close and said, “So do I.”

He gets out his wallet, gives me a doctor’s card and says, “She’s the best. She’s giving me one.”

Well, I called this doctor after the Phillies game on Monday and she starts off right away by telling me I’d need surgery. She started to go into details, and I hung right up. This woman is a psychopath, and that fellow at the drugstore needs to be warned. I’m fixing to do that tomorrow after I stock the shelf with fishing line.

Well, anyway, and sorry for the rambling, but can you help me find one of these things?

I am desperate, and you’re my last hope.

--Bert

Dear Bert:

Two things.

First, this feature is “Ask the Fringe” not “Ask the French.”

Next, I’m not qualified. I’ve been told a number of times I can’t find the damned thing either.

Good luck.

Jimbo

(Editor’s notes. Future “Ask the Fringe” columns are cancelled, largely because the columnist is a nincompoop.)

* * *

I’m easing back into posting as the busiest part of my summer ends. To celebrate, I’m having a double-double-shot-shot.

No, it’s not a beverage that will knock me on my backside. It’s four videos from my favorite band, The Beatles.

I discovered them late in their career. I really didn’t pay a lot of attention to their early work until years later. My loss.

How good was the old stuff?

There’s a great scene in The Sopranos " episode "A Hit Is a Hit" where a band Christopher is pushing, "Visiting Day," is recording a demo. Their song sucks. The guy at the mixing board gives Christopher a free lesson on song structure using She Loves You as an example. (Someone on that writing team was a huge Beatles fan.)

Enjoy.

* * *

If I Fell

Mark Williams and I recorded a version of this back when I could still sing. It’s a truly lovely song, and it was a sign of the genius to come. You don’t hear it these days, but someone ought to take a shot at it.

* * *

I Feel Fine

A big deal was made at the time of the feedback that starts this one. It still has that early Beatles sound and structure, but they were clearly growing.

* * *

We Can Work It Out

 

This is a mid-career piece that really showed how far they’d come in a few short years.

* * *

Lastly, I’m going back to the big hit that started it all in Britain: Please Please Me.

At the time The Beatles biggest achievement was Love Me Do, which cracked the bottom third of the top twenty in the UK (and didn’t even have Ringo on the drums).

They were pitched “How Do You Do It” and told it would be a number one hit.

The boys weren’t impressed (John Lennon thought the song was ‘crap’ and would get them labeled as sellouts).

They promised to come back with something better.

 

That’s the definition of having balls, folks. (How Do You Do It would, in fact, hit number one… for Gerry and the Pacemakers.)

The Beatles did come back with something better: Please Please Me. The rest is history.

How powerful was this song?  The version here is from Paul McCartney’s 2006 tour. Watch the crowd. Some of these folks were babies (or not even born) when the song originally came out. And they smile. And sing along. Perhaps you’ll do the same.

* * *

...Be good to each other.

* * *

Fringeville #207: We’re Doing It Wrong

Have we reached a tipping point on gun violence in America?

Maybe.

But we have a curious capacity for tolerating the slaughter of others. The pattern after each mass shooting is the same: Shock. Calls for thoughts and prayers. Demands for action. Then comes time, that unstoppable thing that puts distance between the last horror and the next. Hence the “maybe.” If nothing has changed a year from now, you’ll have the answer.

* * *

On thoughts and prayers: I offer them. Every time. I also believe the Lord is wondering when we’ll hold up our end. People are slaughtered. We pray. Then we do nothing. The cycle repeats as it has for as long as I can remember.

* * *

We are divided on gun ownership, as we are on almost everything in America, and the extremes cancel each other out. Nothing gets done. We seem incapable of finding middle ground; a place to start from which, over time, real change can come.

The 2nd Amendment is here to stay.

Here in Pennsylvania, the state constitution states is plainly worded: "The right of the citizens to bear arms in defense of themselves and the State shall not be questioned."

That doesn’t mean nothing can be done to slow the slaughter.

A starting point would be banning high capacity magazine (HCM).

Only a handful of states ban them, and the definition on what HCM’s are vary. It is, to me, a logical place to start a serious discussion. Start simple. Define HCM’s. Next, buy them back, no questions asked. They are not firearms. They are attachments. You can’t buy certain cold medicines in some places without ID, yet you can purchase HCM's in most states.

Pennsylvania does not prohibit the sale or possession of large capacity magazines. The PA House and Senate couldn’t even agree on the definition of HCM’s the last time legislation was introduced in 2013 (the House bill said greater than 15 rounds, the Senate 10). If the United States Congress is content to let the slaughter continue, let Pennsylvania take the lead.

Perhaps banning HCM’s will be an inconvenience to some law-abiding firearm owners. Better to be inconvenienced than to have a trooper at your door telling you a family member has been lost in a mass shooting.

I’ve read articles that state smaller magazines wouldn’t affect rate of fire, and that changing magazines requires just 2-4 seconds. It is also not uncommon for a mass shooter to have multiple weapons. But if they must change magazines more often, a few extra seconds may save lives. If a shooter's long-gun jams, and they switch to a pistol, that also levels the playing field for anyone nearby who may be armed, be that law enforcement or civilians.

Anything that buys time for potential victims is a good starting point.

I’m not going any deeper into the weeds on this. My point is that something must be done because what we’re doing right now clearly isn’t working. Banning HCM’s will open the discussion.

Banning guns altogether will always be a non-starter in America. Throwing up our hands and saying nothing can be done should be a non-starter as well.

I know I’m going to upset some of my friends on the right and left with this post.

So be it. I’d rather have you alive and mad at me than dead after a mass shooting.

The fact is, again, we’re doing this all wrong. We go into the weeds, time passes and then there’s another mass shooting. Over. And over. And over again.

 

Change must come and it must come now.

* * *

Please, please, please…. Be good to each other.

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