I would like to say I hate it when I'm right but, jiminy crickets, I am right so much that if I spent all that time hating myself I wouldn't have time to hate broccoli. And I really hate broccoli.
Case in point: I went out on a limb last week predicting the political platforms of all the candidates for all of the offices in the upcoming election in Georgia. I said I thought they would all promise to: Lower our taxes. Reduce crime. Shrink the size of government. Create jobs. Stand up to powerful special interests groups. Fight bureaucracy. Secure our borders. Take care of our veterans. Improve education. Fix Medicare. In watching the debates last week, it was pretty clear all the candidates are firmly committed to (Inhale): Create jobs. Stand up to powerful special interests groups. Fight bureaucracy. Secure our borders. Take care of our veterans. Improve education. Fix Medicare. (Exhale). Am I good or am I good?
The one exception among the candidates is the mud wrestling going on between businessman Rick Jackson and Lt. Gov. Burt Jones for the Republican gubernatorial nomination. They have collectively taken negative advertising to a new low (or high.) Jackson has spent some $47 million and Jones has spent roughly $26 million in ripping each other to pieces. All of this for a job that pays $182,000. My two cents worth? I'm tired of both of them and their ads. . . .
One of the perks of my job at BellSouth Corporation was that I had a staff in Washington and that got me the opportunity to attend the annual White House Correspondents' Dinners. It is no cliché to say everybody who was anybody was there, including the president. The media roasting the president in good fun and then the president responding with a few zingers of his own was what the evening was all about. Much fun. I was surprised and pleased that the thinnest-skinned president in the history of our Republic finally agreed to attend. I couldn't wait to see how it turned out. And then, suddenly, the surreal attempted assassination. There is talk of perhaps rescheduling the event. I hope they do. The nation could use a little healing and laughter is the best medicine. . . .
I will have more to say about this later but be forewarned that our Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge is still a target for those who wish to mine the site for titanium dioxide in order that this world never runs short of toothpaste whitener. Yes, the Conservation Fund purchased the 8,000 acre Twin Pines tract and, yes, the state Department of Natural Resources bought almost 4,000 acres of that land and will create a new Wildlife Management Area, but there is still a lot of land along Trail Ridge available for mining and companies who have shown an interest in doing just that. As Yogi Berra said, it ain't over until it's over and this threat isn't over by a long shot. Stay tuned. . . .
I saw a clip on TV recently showing three police officers in the Queens area of New Yok City responding to a domestic dispute at 3 a.m. As they approached the door, the house suddenly blew up. Their body cameras showed the three being knocked to the ground. Later, it was revealed they had suffered injuries. So, what did they do? They got back up and rescued survivors. (The explosion was deliberately started by a family member who died in the explosion.) That is what police do, and the next time I hear some Gen-Whatevers talking about defunding the police, I am going to throw up on their Birkenstocks. We need the police more than we need that bunch of ungrateful ignoramuses. . . .
Finally, in the you-can't make-this-stuff-up department, it turns out that former UGA and Miami quarterback Carson Beck will have to take a pay cut after being drafted by the woeful Arizona Cardinals in the recent NFL draft. Beck made a reported $6 million at Miami. As a rookie in the NFL, he will make $1.34 million. As my sweet mama would say, bless his heart.
You can reach Dick Yarbrough at dick@dickyarbrough.com at P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta, GA 31139 or at www.facebook.com/dickyarb.