I won’t just shut up and sing

  

Because I’m part of the Nashville music community, my mostly conservative views do not make me the anomaly or oddity I would be in the more urbane entertainment capitals. As many of my compatriots expound the value system of God, family, country and work just as I do, and as I tend to spend my off time among a mostly blue-collar crowd, I have very few face-to-face confrontations.

Most of my more vocal critics tend to hide behind Twitter avatars and email names, and most of them make ridiculous assumptions, such as if you oppose Obamacare, you want to sit back and watch all the poor people in the nation die, or if you want to see sanity at the border, you hate all Hispanics.

A while back, there was a lady who just couldn’t understand why I don’t think it is my obligation to pay for her contraception, as if it were an American woman’s right to assign her responsibility for getting pregnant to somebody who didn’t even participate. In my book, if you’re going to play, it’s your place to pay, and if she wants to stand at the door of a men’s room at a service station and hand out coins for the boys to use in the condom machines, that’s her business. I’m just not going to give her any quarters.

Sometimes I’ll receive valid, courteous questions about why I feel the way I do about certain issues. I respond in kind, and there is potential for constructive conversation. There are always two sides to every story, and nobody is wrong all the time, with the possible exception of a few people on Capitol Hill.

Of course, I ignore the “I hope you drop dead with an incurable virus” kind of comments because responding only fans the flames, and you may as well try to reason with a cement mixer.

Some people really seem to think they’re insulting me when they call me a redneck, but I don’t think those people even know what an honest-to-goodness redneck is. You see, a redneck is not somebody riding around in a pickup truck shooting at road signs with a handgun and throwing empty beer bottles on the side of the road. Where I come from, a redneck is just a hardworking man who gets up before the sun does and spends the day working outside, getting the back of his neck rosy in the process. I happen to think those folks are the salt of the earth, and I’m honored to be considered one.

I’d say one of the most appalling things about America today is the lack of original and informed opinion, as some of the most vocal of the amateur pundits quote verbatim something they’ve heard or read. When they’re asked to explain, their position fades away into cyberspace, and they’re unable to put up even a cursory defense of something they’ve stated vehemently just a few moments before.

I am not a man of letters and have no claim or ties to academia, no degrees and actually feel extremely blessed to have made it through high school. But my opinions are all my own, based on 75 years of experience and what I call cowboy logic, which is 2 plus 2 is always 4, water never runs uphill, and if there’s smoke, there’s a fire somewhere.

I personally believe that man-made global warming is an international scam; I happen to think the United Nations is an anti-American, corrupt and toothless debating society that has violated its charter and its very name, for that matter; and I’m firmly convinced that the Southeastern Conference is the greatest football organization ever instituted by mankind.

So you probably can see where I have a few detractors.

With all her wrinkles and warts, the United States of America is still the most exciting place in the world. Waking up in a nation where every day a cure for cancer, a workable biofuel or a mind-numbing discovery at the bottom of the sea could be announced is unparalleled. We live in a place where a new technology or computer chip could propel the economy into hyperspace all over again, and that can’t happen just anywhere.

This is a place where diversity makes us colorful but unity makes us strong, and when we reason together, it becomes stronger still.

Let your voice be heard. I know I’m going to.

Charlie Daniels is a country music legend and author of “Ain’t No Rag” (Regnery, 2003) and “Growing Up Country” (Flying Dolphin Press/Broadway Books, 2007).

 

                                                                                     

  PICTURES TO MAKE YA GRIN  

---

 I told you NOT to give me that last beer…
  
 
 Who used the last roll of toilet paper again??
  
 
 What does it take to get a walk around here?
  
 
 Yep, I peed
 

 Bring me a little umbrella darling.

 
 If you want something done right around here…

 
 When I said my ears were cold I had no idea you'd take it so seriously

 
 Cat headband. Comes in 3 colors.

 
 When I said I wanted a little brother, I meant a DOG...

 
 Do I look like a chew toy to you??

 
 
 This ISN'T in my job description!!

 
 This isn't in MY job description either for pete's sake!!

 
 And then, snort, snort, the bartender says to the horse.....

 
 Wait, wait…

 
 
 Who is writing these job descriptions???

 
 So this is where you live, eh?

 
 Who says "three's a crowd"??

 
 Give me some sugar, hotlips!

 
 Air flossing!

 
 Darn it Gladys, you blinked again....RE-TAKE please!!

                       

3 Good Arguments

  

There were 3 good arguments

that Jesus was Black:

1.. He called everyone brother

2. He liked Gospel

3. He didn't get a fair trial

 

But then there were 3 equally good arguments that Jesus was Jewish:

1. He went into His Father's business

2. He lived at home until he was 33

3. He was sure his Mother was a virgin and his Mother was sure

He was God

 

But then there were 3 equally good arguments that Jesus was Italian:

1. He talked with His hands

2. He had wine with His meals

3. He used olive oil

 

But then there were 3 equally good arguments that Jesus was a Californian:

1. He never cut His hair

2. He walked around barefoot all the time

3. He started a new religion

 

But then there were 3 equally good arguments that Jesus was an American Indian:

1. He was at peace with nature

2. He ate a lot of fish

3. He talked about the Great Spirit

But then there were 3 equally good arguments that Jesus was Irish:

1. He never got married.

2. He was always telling stories.

3. He loved green pastures.

But the most compelling evidence of all - 3 proofs that Jesus was a woman:

1. He fed a crowd at a moment's notice when there was virtually no food

2. He kept trying to get a message across to a bunch of men who just didn't get it

3. And even when He was dead, He had to get up because there was still work to do

 

 Can I get an

AMEN?

 

 Hi Guys, this will be my first blog here, so please excuse that it may not look as great as the blogs I have been doing at Multiply for several years or the ones I did on Yahoo 360 before that. Anyhoos I need to start somewhere, so here goes -     I LOVE MY JOB   This is even funnier when you realize it's real! Next time you have a bad day at work think of this guy.  Bob is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana.  He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs.  Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent it to radio station 103.5 on FM dial in Indiana, who was sponsoring a worst job experience contest.  Needless to say, she won.  Read his letter below. ______________________________________________________  

    

Hi Sue,  Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother.  Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all. Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job. As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit to the office. It's a wet suit. This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrial water heater. This $20,000 piece of equipment sucksthe water out of the sea. It heats it to a delightful temperature... It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose.  Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used it several times with no complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wet suit.  This floods my whole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi.  

Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch. So, of course, I scratched it.  This only made things worse. Within a few seconds my ass started to burn. I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done. In agony I realized what had happened. The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it, however, the crack of my ass was not as fortunate.  When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my ass.  I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically. 

Needless to say, I aborted the dive.  I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression. When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet.  As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt as soon as I got in the chamber. The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't shit for two days because my ass was swollen shut.  

So, next time you're having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your ass. Now repeat to yourself, 'I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.'  Whenever you have a bad day, ask yourself, is this a jellyfish bad day?  May you NEVER have a jellyfish bad day!!   Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.