Archive | March, 2012

Coked-out cookies and the Rise of the Girl Scouts

15 Mar

Several weeks back, Indiana State Representative Bob Morris faced ridicule from around the nation for inflammatory statements he made regarding the Girl Scouts of America. According to news sources, such as MSNBC, Morris stated in a letter that he believes the organization aids in “the destruction of traditional American family values.”

Finally, someone has had the courage to stand up to those pesky cookie-selling criminals! But Morris still doesn’t see the whole picture. Rotting away the moral fabric of America is only the beginning to what these heartless little hoodlums have planned. If you examine their rituals and training closely, you will see that, like North Korea and the Kardashian sisters, their ultimate goal is to take over the known universe.

Yes. All the conspiracy theorists that have blamed secret organizations, such as The Bilderberg Group and The Illuminati, for wanting to control all of mankind have been wrong. Do those secret groups teach young women how to shoot a bow or live off the land? No. Do they educate and empower half of our civilization? Negative. Do they dress in paramilitary colors of brown and green, wear membership stars, and don Army Ranger berets? Nah. Do they control most of the world currency and capital? Well, yes, but not for long. Not if the Brownie Brigade and their minions have their way.

How can an organization of sweet, innocent little girls ever hope to achieve world domination? Why, one small badge at a time, of course. Let’s review some of the titles of these insane insignia.

*Power of Team Award.

(Indoctrination into a group-think setting, more like it.)

*Reach Out.

(And conquer Canada.)

*Citizen- Inside Government.

(How many subversives have already infiltrated the upper echelon of the military, judiciary and executive branches? Being only 16.8 percent female, at least we know the legislature is safe.)

*Camper.

(How was the American Revolution won? Guerilla warfare, or as I like to say, naturalists that wear combat boots instead of Birkenstocks.)

*Medal of Honor.

(Grandpa Joe received one of these for fighting in WW II. Enough said.)

*World Thinking Day.

(Learning is half the battle, according to GI Joe. For Girl Scouts, it’s thinking about how to take over foreign lands.)

Not enough proof? Let’s look at the most condemning piece of evidence… those delectable cookies. Most people find it hard to resist the yummy morsels. News flash. It’s the trace amounts of cocaine baked inside. Yes, the Girl Scouts also have a working relationship with South American drug cartels. Remember Evita? Immoral women have no allegiances.

Through a growing dependence on the coked-out cookies, the organization hopes to enslave the American public. If for some reason the addiction doesn’t weaken our citizenry, the increased caloric intake into our daily diet will. Dastardly.

So thank you, Representative Morris. Like the cat bearing your name, you’ve represented America well. Through your Internet research, you’ve exposed the inner workings of the foremost all-female secret society. Some might call you crazy, idiotic or even an extremist male chauvinist pig. But I call you a hero. Oh wait, they also called you an uneducated nut job with too much time on your hands. Forgot that one. Anyway, so onward toward the renunciation of other brazenly belligerent female militias like the League of Women Voters, the Daughters of the American Revolution and the collective castoffs of the “The Bachelor” series. As the Girl Scouts say, be prepared. Indeed. 

All we need is love

6 Mar

Below you’ll find my column this week from newsandtribune.com. With the devastating tornados that ripped through Southern Indiana last Friday, I wanted to share so of their stories. Please, if you could, give to our local Clark County Chapter of the American Red Cross.

 

Sometimes, life isn’t fair. In fact, at times, it’s downright horrific. That’s the only answer I had for the horrendous damage caused by the tornados that rumbled across rural communities in Southern Indiana last week.

On Sunday, I drove into Henryville to cover the devastation of the twisters and tell the stories of the families affected by their haphazard path. The photos do not convey the destruction. Debris fields everywhere you turn. Children’s dolls maimed, covered in mud. Random pieces of indiscernible cloth billowing like a flag in the breeze. Old photos of loved ones encrusted in a dirt frame. And then, there was all the rubble where sturdy houses and barns and buildings once stood. So much rubble that only a short time a go was another Hoosier’s life.

These were only the material things. But their broken images stung. The stories of the survivor’s heartbreak stung more.

How many people lost everything they owned? Tales of sacrifice and pain and destruction filled the Internet. When I interviewed people for the stories, my eyes watered. I’m no grand journalist. Most reporters don’t choke up on the news when they talk to the victims. I did.

Yet somehow, throughout all the stories, a sense of awe arose. Not of the damage caused by the cyclone, but of the resilience and kindness of all those affected. In almost interview, the disaster survivors and their families smiled. Most even laughed. One man searching through the rubble of his cousin’s farm told me how his wife had found some old Maxim magazines. When he thought about saving them for resale, she responded that the paper would make better use as kindle for the fire burning outside their tent at night. Especially the issue with the saucy cover photo of Danica Patrick. He chuckled.

Another young boy helping with a different search in a leveled house shouted up to the homeowner that a piano mostly under debris still played amongst the ruin. The man smiled and asked him to play him a tune. Shortly thereafter, a friend handed the man an intact beer that came from a buried fridge. Even with many of his possessions gone, his lips managed to curl upwards once more.

On more than one occasion, family members offered me a drink, even a bite to eat. One sweet woman tried to insist that I take one of their warm hats. The pastor of Mount Moriah, his church crumbled before us, worried about my thin jacket. He tried to give me hand warmers as we talked. After all the devastation, amazing generosity still prevailed.

Time after time, I started to see a pattern. Something connected each story that emerged from those debris fields. Something that almost every human shares. Love. A mother sacrificing her own body to protect her beloved children. A neighbor risking his life to bring the family next door into his better protected home. A husband holding his wife as their home swirls around them during the wind and hail. A community who reaches out with food and money and time to help people they do not know.

To me, all these things are based on love. Call me naïve, but if anything, that’s what this disaster has taught me. Yes, sometimes life isn’t fair. Sometimes it’s even horrific. But in the end, if you look hard enough underneath the rubble, you can discover love in almost everything. And if you find that love, you can find that life, even in a terrible tragedy, might not always be so horrific after all.

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