With only a year to decide for whom to vote in the presidential election, I've been doing some research. I still have no idea who will get my vote, but I sure discovered who will not.
Be afraid of this column. This column is toxic to inflammatory rhetoric and could cause spontaneous outbursts of critical thinking and common sense.
As I rewrote this column on Thanksgiving, my grandmother came to mind. More accurately, she's why I rewrote it.
For at least eight years now, I have covered the annual Relay for Life events that honor cancer survivors, promote awareness of cancer issues, memorialize those who lost the battle against the disease, and raise funds for cancer research to hopefully find a cure some day.
I struggled a bit this week with the topic I wanted to cover. I've been so caught up in the middle of this city election fiasco, my mind is a bit muddled. Both sides of this thing are slinging so much mud, we could have a monster truck rally in the middle of town.
In light of recent events, I feel the overwhelming need to make light of recent events. But my editor doesn't let me do that – wouldn't want to taint my objectivity.
It's been brought to my attention that by writing this column every week, I have some sort of influence over my readership.
I'm a fan of talk radio. Unfortunately, here in the Boro we don't really have that much variety.
Almost all the things I write about here on Friday come from one of three situations. Sometimes its a personal experience I've had here in Statesboro - a business transaction of some sort. Also, there are the keen observations I make about the inadequacies of government in order to dispel the ridiculous notion that the federal government is, in any way, here to help you. Then, there are those bits of random conversation that happen to stick with me after the talk stops and I walk away.
A friend of mine has a cell phone that plays a song instead of ringing. The song, "Who Your Friends Are," is by country star Tracy Lawrence and every time I hear her phone ring, the song stays in my head for hours.
As I sit, listen to and read statements from today's politicians, one thing is absolutely certain: these guys and gals like to promise American's loads and loads of free stuff.
They made her eat rat feces. They forced her to drink from a toilet when she was thirsty. They beat her and kicked her and kept her captive in a small shed, fearing for her life. They cut her with knives and sexually assaulted her. She was only 20.
The in-laws were in town last weekend.
I was reading the Jan Moore story, this past Monday, about the gentleman who owns the KFCs in the area. It reminded me of a time recently when I patronized one of his establishments.
He came all the way from Washington, D.C., to attend a family reunion, a gathering of people he had never met, except a few. Some he knew through e-mail, but for the most part, he would be among strangers.