You don’t see a lot of television while full-time RV-ing. It’s limited to over the airwaves reception, but in populated areas there’s way more TV than you would expect. We are in Texas in political campaign season, blessed with 30 stations: We’ve always been lucky.
Kat and I lived near Dallas between 1995 and 2001. I felt like a duck in the desert there: I tried to root for the Cowboys and failed; was never comfortable with the Dallas/Houston School of Kamikazi Driving, and eventually realized only tranquilizers could keep away my hives. The onliest things about Texas I enjoyed were A&M (friendliest school in the WORLD), barbecue, and gone but not forgotten political writer Molly Ivins.
Back in Texas I’m amazed at the level of local hate for this President. Here even Democrats trash talk Obamacare (if they’re up for re-election). And Lord have mercy: Republicans really drop their gloves. Our boy Senator Ted Cruz, who is staying out of state politics, endorsed Ken Paxton for Texas Attorney General on three points. To paraphrase the Senator “Ken’s fought against Obamacare” (he wants to keep the uninsured uninsured), “supports voter ID” (Ken doesn’t want the young or the poor to vote), and “supports our religious rights” (sees no reason for separation of church and state). Obviously, my italics are my personal interpretation of Ted’s viewpoint.
Bill Kugle was one of Molly Ivins’ heroes. Bill was a lawyer, a one-term member of the Texas legislature, a tireless defender of the poor and powerless, and in the Texas State Cemetery he has an epitaph to die for. It’s lengthy on the front, but the back is what Molly and I admired most: “Never voted for a Republican and had little to do with them.” Other points of view are represented in that graveyard. Miriam “Ma” Ferguson’s marker does not mention her most famous quote, but it its inclusion would speak volumes: “If English was good enough for Jesus, it’s good enough for the children of Texas.”
Today’s title comes from page 210 of that great book, Blue Highways, 12th edition, hardback version, by William Least Heat Moon. A couple of pages were about a WW I veteran and his perpetually angry wife who had her fun writing threatening letters to the electric company (or “hollerin’ down rain barrels”) which might be me in this rant. Another key character was their Pekingese dog named either Bill, or White Fong. To appreciate the latter name, you have to be up on your Jack London.