Political (in)Correctness

Freedom's Just Another Word For Nothing Left To Lose...


Have I mentioned that I’m really allergic to bee stings?

No?

Well, I am—although things seem to have settled down a little in my old age.

Of course I haven’t been stung in nine or ten years now, so the next encounter might be my last for all I know, but the more recent reactions were relatively mild. Over-the-counter antihistamines like Benadryl provide the necessary relief to keep my heart beating and my chest rising and falling.

I’ve had a love/hate relationship with my winged nemesis my entire life—I love to hate them. We had practically every single form of bee and wasp on the planet living within 50 feet of my bedroom where I grew up. Bumble bees, Honey Bees, Carpenter Bees, Red Wasps, White Faced Hornets, Yellow Jackets, Dirt Daubers—if it had wings and a stinger, we had it buzzing around between May and November.

Just try pushing a lawnmower around your back yard and run across a Yellow Jackets’ nest some time. You will gladly GIVE the lawnmower to the Yellow Jackets. Those sons of bitches come up out of the ground in massive numbers and it is virtually impossible to not get stung at least a half dozen times in a single encounter.

I used to get stung at least once every summer because I couldn’t resist tossing a rock or can or shooting a pellet gun at the giant paper wasp nests that hung under the eves of the outbuildings on my Mother’s Father’s farm in “lower” Alabama.

I knew that I got sick as hell when I got stung, but I couldn’t leave the little bastards alone because I believed that some day I would beat them at their own game. Finally the bug spray companies came out with the Wasp/Hornet spray that shoots a potent, deadly stream of liquid 20’ feet long and I revel in killing everything in sight at my Mom’s house every spring. It is much easier to kill them when the nest is small and there are only three or four flying menaces hanging around, than to wait until the nest is the size of a saucer or dinner plate and there are two score of them in their “air force.”

My approach to political and social issues in life runs a parallel course to my interaction with flying insects. Fraud and injustice always seems to irritate me, and within fifteen minutes of arriving on the scene I tend to run afoul of the hierarchy and I end up in an “us versus them” conflict with the governing authorities.

In my recent past I’ve found myself in direct conflict with published “ethics codes” where I knew that organizational leaders were selling illegal steroids, management was having illicit sexual relationships with subordinates, subordinates were homosexually involved with other subordinates, and I was contractually obligated to turn the whole miserable crowd in to someone (if I could find someone that wasn’t involved in the corruption) else face expulsion for aiding and abetting the debauchery.

Let’s just say that they threw the baby (that would be me) out with the bath water.

I’ve recently tripped over a substantial situation going on here in the Golden Isles. Someone of significant importance would be in real trouble with the Federal Authorities on several levels if things were ever to be made public. The problem is, said individual has more money and influence than God and Satin put together and if it were ever to come to light who (or whom) was responsible for the revelations there probably wouldn’t be enough remains left to do a DNA analysis.

I’m still thinking about making a few phone calls.

We can always move…and there’s always the witness protection program…right?