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J.P. Doodles

J.P. Doodles


Rogersville
THE BOOKEND: A damsel in distress

Dear Readers,

Hi, how ya’ll? I’m good ... I’m talkin’ Tennessee. That is a Morgan Wallen (Sneedville native) quote from one of his best songs. We should all be proud of our southern heritage. Talk it, sing it, shout it.

What do you think about when you think about the South? Why a damsel in distress of course! I rely on men to help me out of distress. I believe in equal rights for women, but I just flat need too much help getting by to be a feminist.

And I like and respect men. Even when I’m making them crazy. Like my poor husband.

Well see, I have these real pretty pink suede high heels that I wear to our Bible meetings. And I absolutely cannot buckle them. Cannot. When I put them on, I ask my husband to buckle them for me. He’s usually looking good in his suit anyway, and this is probably one of my favorite moments in the week. He takes my foot in his beautiful hands and buckles it. Shew wee lord, ya’ll go on and be a feminist ... I’m liking this damsel in distress stuff!

Now some of the reasons I am sometimes a damsel in distress are because of silly things that I do. In fact, this is usually the case. Here’s an example ... whenever I visit my Aunt Zada out in the country on the family land we’ve been on forever, my cousin, Tom, insists that he teach me how to shoot his high-powered gun. He says I’d be safer if I carried a gun and learned how to shoot it.

He has the targets set up. He instructs me just exactly how to hold the gun. Now this gun can shoot straight through a cast iron pan, he tested it out on one of Aunt Zada’s old cast iron skillets (not her cornbread skillet mind you, that’d be a death sentence for sure ... you do not touch Aunt Zada’s cornbread skillet ... ask me why I know this sometime).

Anyway, one day Tom was showing me just how to hold the gun, I was terrified, but I was trying my best. I had on the headset to protect my ears, and I squeezed the trigger just like he said to do and BOOM, I shot a hole right through Aunt Zada’s carport. Well that didn’t go over to well with Aunt Zada, no sirree, she said, “Teresa the last thing you need is a gun!”

Sorry, cousin Tom, I can’t be rescued this time.

Well ya’ll you’d think my damsel in distress days with guns were over, but no, I can’t seem to learn. It happened at the attorney office I worked at over the winter.

I’ll tell ya’ll all about it in my next column. In the meantime, I pray that you’ll have a happy, safe and sweet day. I mean every bit of it. And have a literary day too.


Rogersville
STORIES OF A WORLD GONE MAD: Season change and so do I

I love fall. It has become my favorite season.

The shadows become longer.

The sky looks bluer and the trees seem greener as the humidity begrudgingly drops and eventually takes the temperature down with it.

We live near a high school as the crow flies. And at the risk of sounding like a Kenny Chesney song, I like to hear the band practicing during the week and the PA announcer’s voice over the loudspeaker on Friday nights during home games.

When it’s a particularly big play I can hear the crowd sometimes.

Fall also marks the rebirth of the foods I love.

We make chili a lot. It’s to die for.

I like to grill on Saturday nights in the fall while listening to the Vol Network guys do their post-game wrap-up about whichever team Tennessee trounced earlier in the day.

I like to grill when they lose, too, but it’s not nearly as much fun.

I would not have always waxed poetic about fall, however. Except for football, I didn’t care for it too much when I was in school because it meant the end of summer vacation.

Labor Day weekend was always a three-day wake for me.

Don’t get me wrong. I liked school fine. I was a pretty good student. I participated in my share of activities, and I had lots of good friends.

But I never liked sitting still, and as you know, school is the ultimate exercise in sitting still.

I never really liked homework, either. I don’t guess many people really ever did.

No matter how much I was caught up on my studies, I always felt like there was something I could be working on.

I remember wanting to be out of school and getting a job so when quitting time came I could forget about whatever I was doing and not give it another thought until the next morning.

Oh, well, we all see how that worked out.

When we were kids, summer always meant riding our bicycles or playing baseball or basketball somewhere in the neighborhood until the streetlights came on.

We spent countless hours on scalding tennis courts. I don’t know what kept us from dying of heat stroke.

One summer, a couple of friends and I turned a Radio Flyer wagon into a rolling lemonade stand and pulled it behind our bikes in the subdivision where we lived. We made enough money to ride downtown and each get a burger and fries.

On the weekends, we always found water to get in somewhere.

I kept my love of water into adulthood. We’ve had a pool for 30 years.

We would spend the entire weekend floating or sitting beside it.

But it’s simply too hot to swim these summers, it seems.

And regardless of how hot and dry it is, the weeds somehow still continue to grow.

I think they like it better that way.

So, bring on sweatshirt weather. Bring on fall festivals, apple season and the SEC Network.

As I sit outside in the shade right now writing about sweatshirt weather, it’s 93 degrees. But, the breeze feels just a little drier than it would’ve felt a couple of weeks ago.

That tells me fall is coming. I can feel it.

But it isn’t here yet.

(Barry Currin is founder and President of White Oak Advertising and Public Relations, based in Cleveland, Tennessee. Readers can mail him at currin01@gmail.com.)


Rogersville
MY VIEW: A Trump victory for unborn babies

I want to say a heartfelt public THANK YOU to President Donald Trump and — if you can believe I am writing this — to the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals.

You who read my columns regularly know that I am an pro-lifer who believes that abortion for the sake of convenience is morally wrong, unconstitutional, and should be illegal except in those extremely rare cases where the life of the mother is in danger.

I will unashamedly defend that belief until I no longer have a breath in my body.

My heart cries for the more than SIXTY MILLION unborn children who have been slaughtered since Roe v. Wade became the law of the land in 1973.

SIXTY MILLION babies. And yes, they ARE babies, NOT blobs of tissue, fetuses or whatever some may choose to call them to create a smokescreen to cover up the fact that they are living human beings from the moment of conception.

It’s approaching the number of souls who perished in WWII, and amounts to the total population today of the states of Wyoming, Alaska, Vermont, North Dakota, South Dakota, Delaware, Rhode Island, Montana, Maine, New Hampshire, Hawaii, Idaho, West Virginia, Nebraska, New Mexico, Kansas, Mississippi, Arkansas, Nevada, Iowa, Utah, Connecticut, Oklahoma, Kentucky and Oregon, with the District of Columbia tossed in.

That’s more than the folks who live today in HALF of the states.

Let that number sink in.

Does that not send a cold chill up your spine?

One of the precepts embodied in the U.S. Declaration of Independence is the right of all Americans to LIFE, and Biblical truth teaches that LIFE begins at conception. God says in His word that he knew us while we were still in our mothers’ wombs, even though that fact, by their own admission, was “above the pay grade” of many former U.S. Presidents and liberal, pro-choice justices who have dominated the Supreme Court for the past five decades.

The pro-abortion argument that it is all about “choice” and someone’s “rights” pales in comparison to what a Higher Authority says.

I wonder: what about the “rights” of those unborn babies?

Where is his/her “choice” in the matter?

Well, last week, a chain of events set into motion months earlier by President Trump and pro-life members of Congress (including our own Tennessee Senator Marsha Blackburn! — THANK YOU, TOO, MARSHA!!) came to a head, one that, literally and figuratively, rattled to its core one of the largest provider of abortions in the U.S. today, Planned Parenthood.

In an astonishing eyebrow-raising ruling in June, the normally liberal 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals lifted a nationwide injunction that had prevented the Trump administration from enforcing the so-called “Title X Gag Rule”, which mandated that participants in the federal family planning program would henceforth be prohibited from referring their patients for abortions.

As part of that “gag” rule, providers can still talk about abortion, they just can’t tell a client where to get one. It also requires that tax dollars received from that Title X program be accounted for separately from funds used for abortion purposes, calls for abortion counseling to be declared “optional” instead of standard practice, and puts strict limits on which staff members can talk about abortion with patients.

Those providers that continue to receive federal funding must, by March of next year, separate their office space and examination rooms from those facilities where abortions are done.

Well, whatdaya know, on Monday of this week, Planned Parenthood said that it is pulling out of the Title X program rather than abide by the new Trump administration rule.

Whooohooo!

If that’s not a red-letter day for unborn children, I don’t know what is.

Now, understand, the 9th Circuit is still mulling a lawsuit by PP seeking to overturn the “gag” rule, but, in the meantime, that normally far-left “pro-choice”-leaning three-judge panel has said the administration can move forward with enforcement of the “gag rule”, which, in my mind, is a pretty dang good indicator that the Trump administration should win on the merits of the case.

Oh, they will never admit it but if I were a betting man, I’d wager that there were hissy fits, hysterical screaming, pounding on tables, and gnashing of teeth in corporate boardrooms of abortion providers nationwide after all of this hit the fan, because, make no mistake, what the 9th Circuit did was (even if temporary) hand President Trump one of the biggest victories in the past 40 years for the pro-life movement.

A spokesperson for PP said on TV the other night that many low-income women “who rely on Planned Parenthood”, will “delay or go without care.”

The federal tax dollars that PP gets amounts to only four percent or so of its annual budget, so please, don’t give me that lame B.S. excuse.

Most every “health service” (except abortion) that PP provides for women is available at county health departments in every state in the country, free of charge, so tell me how this is depriving ANY person of ANY necessary health service?

Make no mistake about it ... abortion is an ugly, sick, bloody industry ... a very lucrative, high-dollar business that results in the loss of more than 3,000 babies every week in America. And you can rest assured that those involved will fight tooth and nail to protect it, so this isn’t over yet ... they won’t go down without a fight.

And yes, we will have to wait to see what the 9th Circuit’s final ruling is, but for now, anyway, I’m celebrating this as some of the best news I’ve heard in years, even though it may be only temporary.

President Trump, during the 2016 campaign, was a vocal opponent of giving tax dollars to groups that provide abortions, and he promised, if elected, to do something about it.

And do something he has.

ANOTHER PROMISE KEPT, so THANK YOU and GOD BLESS YOU, President Donald Trump!!!!

That’s my view.