In trouble wif' The Law

"Sarah Jean, youse out early aint'cha? Is anything the matter, Sugar?" I asked the pretty college girl whose Basset puppy, Festus, was sniffin' round mah porch steps when I went to open the front door to a cooler Fall mornin'.

" I am, Aunty, an' I was hopin' you'd be up early too. I'se in trouble wif' The Law."

Sara Jean is the dream chile of her Daddy. The boys got their mama's stumpy laigs, but Sarah Jean is long-legged filly with a mane of dark molasses colored hair like her Daddy had afore he went to silver. She is one of our brighter young'uns, an' she went off to Sewanee. Now her was workin' on a Masters at Vandy in somethin' worthless like Social Theory.

I smiled an' said, "Yore Mama is the onliest lady in these parts whose straighter and stiffer than me. What in the world has ya' done, Puddin', to rile up Louella? "

Louella Mae Morgan had a reputation fer stickin' to the letter of the law. Behind her broad backside, folks call her The Sheriff. Even her kids calls her "Louella the Law" in the same sing-songy tone as "Cruella DeVille."

"All I done, Aunty, was to say the truth that ever'body knows-- but nobody will admit it out loud no more. I mean, I came home fer Randall's engagement party, to meet his in-laws-to-be, ya' know? When I could be knockin' out some work at school. An' all I have to show fer mah pains is Mama-Law gunnin' fer me ever move I make." The chile' hung her haid low.

"Well, Darlin', c'mon on in heah an' let's unravel yore vexation. Aunty cain't stand in the door in a nightgown frightenin' the squirrels. Cawfee is made, let's git'cha cup."

"Aunty," Sarah Jean as't, "ain't I a pretty good edition? Mama ain't got no cause to take a shame over mah name. Why does she nit pick ever' thought I have? "

I jes' held quiet an' patted her shoulder. She took a biscuit, slathered on the mayhaw jelly that Uncle loves an' sighed.

"It all got started when I mentioned I knowed how this economy got stuck in a ditch because I'se studyin' Charles Murray's book, Real Education. Murray say that plain good sense oughta tell us not everbody is equal in ability. All I said was thar' warn't no point in sendin' the bottom 50 % of the Stanford Binet off to college since all it did was drive up the cost of edoocation fer those that can learn college material. An' Aunty, I din't even SAY that Randall was in that lower 50%.
I. Did. Not. Say. It."

I jes' nodded mah haid, sipped mah cawfee and waited fer her to continue.

"I said to mama that some folks thought it were--but it ain't!-- their natural born right to go to college, have a mortgage that the gubmint will guarantee and a car in ever garage. I said the numbers ain't never gonna add up 'cause it jes' ain't enough filthy lucre in the world to put golf carts in ever three-car garage and buy three hunnert dollar sunglasses. Somebody is gonna have to do wif'out they 'calamari mojitos.' An, yeah, at that moment, I mebbe I did glance over at Randall."

"Calamari mojito?" I frowned.

"Randall means caramel macchiato," Sarah Jean explained.

Randall ain't a thorn in his fambly's side or nuthin', it's jes' that he ain't interested in workin' hard. His tenure at the state college were short, his fling at sellin' sport water was shorter, an' now he had settled in to dressin' in Hawaiian shirts ever'day an 'goin' out to hotels to sell folks airboat runs and helicopter rides. He say he's in the entertainment field.

Sarah Jean swallowed a gulp of her cawfee and continued, "I said I din't know how a body thought they could git no mortgage on a golf villa if they's only makin' ten dollar-fiddy cent an hour. Reckon youse heered how folks wif' no money down got loans they ain't got a prayer of payin' back. After Randall got his villa, he tole us'uns all he was waitin' on now was Chevy-Mae and Fordy-Mac so he an' Belinda could git new cars!"

Uncle came round the corner an' I seen him smirk at that.

"Mama-Law tole me to watch mah attitude. Now how did I rate that? Next thang I knowed, I'se feelin' heat creep up my neck. I said there was a conspiracy to pretend all folks worked equally hard when ever'body knows it's a lie. I realized I was latherin' up, but I couldn't hep myself an' I also said how these pig knuckles was draggin' down those who could and would do somethin' more.

Din't folks unnerstan' that if they made thangs impossible
fer the doers and knowers by taxin' and takin', that them doers is gonna STOP doin'! An' then whar'will the takers be? Whas' the point of mah studyin' and workin' at the hospital at night, iffin' Hawaiian Shirt works jes' four hours and gits a golf villa?
Who is payin' fer that??? "

Me and Uncle stared at poor Sarah Jean. We knowed Louella musta blown a socket when she heered that.

"Lawdy, chile," Uncle say.

She cast her eyes down and shook her haid.

"Mama said I was an embarrassment to her. ME?

She said I was puttin' on airs, an' ain't I ever learnt about noblese oblige? She say it were mah duty to make a space fer those who was dealt a sorry hand. She say mah pretty face and brains was not to mah own credit. It were jes' an accident. She said the one thang that I could git credit fer was if I chose to do good. Plenty beautiful smart folks doan make that choice, she said. "

Me an' Uncle exchanged looks over Sarah Jean's haid.


"Well honey..." Uncle began, but Sarah Jean went on.

"Aunty, I ain't proud to say it, but I could not let it go. I pushed back hard, 'Mama, iffin' the noblese has duties, so do the obliged.' An' I said how short boys din't demand to play fer the Lakers, or tone deaf girls sing at the Opera. We has no trouble sayin' plain that they's differences in athletic ability or artistic ability, why not say it plain: Not ever'body is equally smart either. Why cain't we be honest an' jes' say so?"

Uncle drew in a breath. "Sweet Pea, yore mama din't mean that ever'body is all the same. She likely meant since youse been so blessed to have beauty and brains, it's more important fer yore own sake not to fergit that the way ya' shows gratitude fer such gifts is by bein' gentle wif' others."

"Aw, Uncle Aloysius, thas' real nice of ya' to say. I know youse tryin' to make my mama sound milder than she is. No. What she meant was, "looky at all them smart college edoocated, good-lookin' rich folks, financiers an' CEOs an' Congressmen who chose to use they smarts to do evil, not good. To loot our country and sell the rest of us the empty bag. Thas' what she meant. The Randall's of this world? Mama say they cain't do that much damage since they's jes' happy pawns fer the elite crowd."

Festus was gettin' restless out on the porch, the sun wuz heatin' thangs up so.

Sarah Jean accepted a jar of the Mayhaw jelly fer her Daddy an' went off to make amends wif' her mama. I stood in the door watchin' the girl and the dawg amble along under the trees.

Uncle as't me what I thought of all that had been said.

After a moment I said, "I reckon Louella the Law makes a real good sheriff."

Freak-o-Nomics

From the Washington Times

Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson and Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke told Congress this week that failure to pass the Bush administration's proposed $700 billion bailout will lead to dire consequences for the economy. Mr. Bernanke said that if the plan were not enacted, markets would be further embattled. This would result in higher unemployment, more foreclosures and an economic contraction. In simple terms: In their opinion, without immediate action, there will be a recession. Yet we know a better term for recession: market correction. Why are we suddenly so afraid of an economic downturn – to the point that we have to gamble $700 billion of taxpayer money?

Since the inception of capitalism in the 18th century, there have been periods of boom followed by periods of bust. Despite the attempts to mitigate these with government intervention since the Great Depression, there have still been periods of boom and bust. This is the natural result of the law of supply and demand. Recently, we had a housing bubble in which investors made huge profits; now the bubble has burst and investors are losing money. That's capitalism. Let those who invested wisely, soar; and those who did not, fall. It's called an economy for grown-ups.

This "crisis" has been brought on by homeowners, lenders and bankers who made bad judgments. Let them bear the consequences of their actions. Furthermore, by the account of most analysts, a recession is coming our way, regardless of whether there is a $700 billion bailout. And Americans will weather it, as we have so many times before. Since 1854, there have been 32 cycles of expansions and contractions.

Are we really now heading toward a Great Depression?

The answer is: no. Are Americans a little spoiled? Yes. Are these uncertain economic times? Absolutely. Is a bailout the answer? Absolutely not.

Recall that similar fears have been stoked before. The savings and loan crisis of the 1980s and 1990s, the dot.com collapse of 2000, and the accounting scandals that afflicted MCI WorldCom, Tyco and Enron were all moments of turbulence. The fearmongers then also predicted economic meltdown - and it did not happen. It is also well to remember that there remains great debate about the cause of the 1929 stock-market crash and its relationship to the Great Depression. Parallels to today's vastly different market are overstated.

Attempts to prevent the market from meting out reward and punishment are not to be feared. What is cause for concern are meddlesome government initiatives - otherwise known as socialism - that emerged in the bailout framework.

Housin' Crisis?

Aunty is feelin' stern today.

The housin' an' mortgage crisis is enough to sour anybody's stomach, ain't it?

Here's the thing:

Havin' yore own house or condo ain't a Universal Human Right. Neither is a collich edoocation.

These thangs is stuff ya should EXPECT will take hard work and sacrifice.

But we's had too many years of politicians on BOTH sides of the aisle that led us'uns to think that somehow the right to a Ph.D and a 4/2.5 ranch in suburbia is in the Bill of Rights.

An ya'll, this OUR OWN fault. Yeah yeah, I know, the politicians LIED to us, and they's scoundrels and they's fat cats who cheated and stole us blind.

But we let 'em.

They tickled our ears wif' what we wanted to hear on our pet issues so we pulled a lever and set them up in office to do us harm.

They bought yore votes wif' promises to give ya' what ya' "deserve" din't they?

Looky, ya doan "deserve" no house. Nobody "deserves" college. Ya' EARN those thangs, folks. Affirmative action housin' was an ideology, folks, not a fiscal theory.

This here is true: city wants builders to build "affordable" housing. City will donate land (that it stole from landowners by condemnation) and "qualify" affirmative action home buyers wif federal gubmint grans (thas' YORE tax money) .

Builders submit house plans. City rejects plans because the plans only have one car garages.

Ya'll git that?????

Well, blow me down, the "poor" who "need" affordable houses cain't be expected to live in no shack wif jes' a one car garage, doan'cha know.

Nobody "deserves" automatic career advancement when they's doin' a lousy job, but gubmint hounds employers into promotin' on criteria other than merit...thas' all donkey doo doo. We worriet about people havin' a "right" to come to work dressed like a escapee from the freak show, an' din't care if this clown made sales drop cause customers doan wanna eat food cooked or served by revolting lookin' clowns, an' a small bidness takes a hit, mebbe goes down the drain.

In case I ain't made it clear, we sold ourselves to sweet talkin' snake oil salespeople who took us fer the suckers we is. We wanted easy street, we wanted "our" cause to get breaks and perks, we demanded the gubmint solve local problems...oh we was sittin' ducks, an' the played us like fiddles. Classic sales technique: sell a vision that the buyer wants (nevermind the reality)

We jes' all hoped that when the bill came due our own thang was secure and to heck with the old idea of the "common good".

So folks, next time a hayseed says "vote fer me" cause what I promise is to keep missles outa yore hair, but you will have to do the rest---you'll have to work hard, save yore money, go to night school, pay back yore tuition loans, make do wif' jes 2 TVs, grow a garden, pay yore own doctor and hep yore neighbor...ya'll vote fer that fella, ya' hear?

Keepin' My Promise

I loves all ya'll bloggers!

Y'all entertain me and make me laugh an' think, and even worry fer ya' heah an' theah..

Ya'll is creative and funny. Aunty is fond of one an' all.

So....I'se gonna keep my promise an' this FRONT PORCH is fer lighthearted exchanges, jes' like it say on the Blog header.

That means, I ain't gonna talk no politics on the Front Porch. I though we might keep it fer yakkin' about the REST of life. Cause I really does wanna know what ELSE is on yore mind.

Iffin' ya's feelin' political, or wonderin' what Aunty is up to durin' this election cycle--check out the BACK Porch--but fair warnin', Sweet Chicks, it is definitely high octane back theah.


* * *
Uncle an' me is on a clean up kick--havin' the place pressure washed, windows cleaned an' Uncle is in a FOUL mood on account of he has to get a dumpster over heah and throw his half of the buggy-barn in it.
















No kiddin', after years of wedded bliss ( well, at least mostly) I can tell ya what makes a happy marriage is his and hers garages.




These ain't ours, but ya gits my drift.

Why be polite? It is the Politcal Season

Mayhap I've mentioned that one of mah favorite writers is Flannery O'Connor.

She wrote the dern'dest short stories ya ever will read. You'll laugh out loud, an' you'll be shocked. Some called her the master of the grotesque. She wrote up some amazin' characters--mostly drawn from the South.

One funny but serious story is called Good Country People. The story revolves around a lonely young woman who sneers at her country mama and mama's friends. He mama named her Joy, but after gettin' a Ph.D in nihilistic philosophy she renamed herself "Hulga" --about as ugly and hopeless a name as I'se ever heered. Hulga has a wooden leg that she sees as her most precious part.

Along comes the travelin' bible salesman, a Mr. Manly Pointer (Tole ya the stories is hilarious) who is goin' to , ah, point a few thangs out to this smug woman who puts on airs about her atheistic erudition. She ain't what she claims, and neither is he....but I won't spoil the story fer ya'....jes' a warm up to make a point on manners.

Flannry O'Connor wrote during the 1960s (early death from Lupus) when the Civil Rights thang was gatherin' steam. She noted that the relations a'tween Black and Whites would be okay as long as we all kept our good manners--an' mostly she were right: More riots and trouble in the North than the South over integration.

Flannery thought the formality of manners acted as a mediator--a buffer if ya will, for those times when tempers is high.

Well, tempers is about to fly, ain't it? I mean, here we go into the election season, campaign season, political season.

I reckon ever'body goin' to have strong opinions--I will. (Obama is a Marxist, pure and simple.)
All I'se suggestin' is that we remember to be polite about itl-ya know? The person who thinks different from you is still a person that ya might like on other matters.

Mostly the Front Porch ain't fer sluggin' thangs out--thas round on the BACK Porch. But it ain't never amiss to remind meself that I can say strong thangs about the situation wif'out forgettin' to be mannerly.

GROSS NATIONAL HAPPINESS

Arthur Brooks is one of them economists who writes in plainspeak fer us'uns in the hinterlands.

This professor of Econ from Syracuse U wrote Gross National Happiness.

Fergit the double shelf of self-help "happiness" volumes over at the local bookery.

Prof. Brooks has a whole different take: he yaks about the "politics of happiness."

Cut and pasted from the Economist Magazine:

"In 2004 Americans who called themselves “conservative” or “very conservative” were nearly twice as likely to tell pollsters they were “very happy” as those who considered themselves “liberal” or “very liberal” (44% versus 25%). American conservatives have been consistently happier than liberals for at least 35 years.

"This is not because they are richer; they are not. Mr Brooks thinks three factors are important. Conservatives are twice as likely as liberals to be married and twice as likely to attend church every week. Married, religious people are more likely than secular singles to be happy. They are also more likely to have children, which makes Mr Brooks confident that the next generation will be at least as happy as the current one.

"When religious and political differences are combined, the results are striking. Secular liberals are as likely to say they are “not too happy” as to say they are very happy (22% to 22%). Religious conservatives are ten times more likely to report being very happy than not too happy (50% to 5%). Religious liberals are about as happy as secular conservatives.

"Why should this be so? Mr Brooks proposes that whatever their respective merits, the conservative world view is more conducive to happiness than the liberal one (in the American sense of both words). (Doan holler at me lib-folks-- I din't say it--I'se jes' reportin' )

"American conservatives tend to believe that if you work hard and play by the rules, you can succeed. This makes them more optimistic than liberals, more likely to feel in control of their lives and therefore happier.

(An' Aunty would say they's a heap more fun, have more humor--why? cause the have hope)

"American liberals, at their most pessimistic, stress the injustice of the economic system, the crushing impersonal forces that keep the little guy down and what David Mamet, a playwright, recently summed up as the belief that “everything is always wrong”.

Emphasising victimhood was noble during the 1950s and 1960s, says Mr Brooks. By overturning Jim Crow laws, liberals gave the victims of foul injustice greater control over their lives.

"But in as much as the American left is now a coalition of groups that define themselves as the victims of social and economic forces, and in as much as its leaders encourage people to feel helpless and aggrieved, he thinks they make America a glummer place."

To all my liberal blog-buddies: Lighten up and c'mon over!

No Country For Old Men--Again: Election 2008

Okay, I'se becomin' a broken record...but iffin' ya ain't see No Country for Old Men, git to it!

I seen it again--yep, 3rd time, and it is worth it. An' Aunty read the book first (of course).





The movie is tellin' us'uns somethin' real big--bigger than politics or war or the economy. It is sayin' who we as a people are--or aren't.

So this heah is mah question--in both the book and movie the sheriff ( who is tryin' to save a good ole' boy out hunntin' who thought it might be not-so-bad-to steal 2 million in drug money he found after a drug deal gone sour....natcherly he unleashed all hell on hisself and others) makes this BIG -B I G --point:

Everthang went to hell when folks stopped sayin' sir and
mam. Does ya'll see that? See the connection?




I knows some think thas' a fer stretch--that lawlessness and violence doan have much to do with the quaint (Southern!) custom of sayin' "Sir" or "M'am" ...an' I been thinkin' so hard on this matter. Studyin' it....which brings me to a confession to all ya'll: I'se a Southern Agrarian. I reads
Edmund Burke, and his intellectual chillen, Flannery O'Connor, M.E. Bradford(author of Founding Fathers) , Russell Kirk, Allen Tate and Wendell Berry and other traditional thinkers. Flannery also said it was manners that would make livin' peaceably possible. No manner, no peace.



So--to all this (manners, tradition and a stable civilization) No Country is tellin' us Americans that we's only jes' beginin' to see horror.

We lost our good manners which is the symbol of recognizin' a fellow human bein' as worthy of basic kindness. Manners is a symbol fer voluntary fidelity to somethin bigger than yore own desires. When a people put themselves and their desires over ever'thang else, then it ain't no society no more--only a collection of loners huddled in the same city limits, county lines or national border. An that ain't No Country For Old Men (to be in if he values his soul--as noted in the movie).

In the story, Sheriff Bell asks, "Who are these people?" he means folks who have no idea of, nor intention to have, basic human decency.

So, Aunty is wonderin'--as we move into election 2008, is we still a society? Is we folks we agree to the basics of a republic, jes' disagree about how to achieve them basics we share? or is we no longer truly sharin' basics as one society?

I read this recently:

Civility is the relationship among citizens in a republic. It corresponds to the condition we call "freedom", which is not just an absence of restraint or coercion, but the security of living under commonly recognized rules of conduct. Not all these rules are enforced by the state; legal institutions of civility depend on the ethical substratum and collapse when it is absent. And in fact the colloquial sense of civility as good manners is relevant to its political meaning: citizens typically deal with each other by consent, and they have to say "please" and "thank you" to each other.


(Author Cormac McCarthy is a Southerner [Tennessee])

Doan Play Poker Wif' Rabbit Bronson

Ever once in a while someone happens up on this Front Porch who leaves me shakin' mah haid.

Today it were ole' Rabbit Bronson, a 60 somethin' rascal whose real name is Raburn after that famous Gap up in the Appalachians. But see, how he got his name is that he be known to git real, real rabid on some thangs, so folks would always say, "Here comes that Rabid Bronson," which he done took to be "Rabbit" Bronson, thinkin' folks was noticin' how fast he could hop around on the dance floor.

He ain't akshully a neighbor of me and Uncle, but when the air is right he can come in from the wilder woods and set a spell. An' so he done this monrin'...jes' a sittin' on the steps when Uncle went out to fetch the paper at dawn -thirty.

"You and Belle is slow these days ain'tcha? Whas' wif this layin' around in the bed after the rooster done crowed? Bring me a mug of yore stiffest cawfee, why don'cha?"

Uncle: "Belle ain't up yet. She been on that blog all dang night long. Lemme call her down heah."

BELLE! Ya' got a caller down heah what ain't got no cawfee. Git yore corset on girl and come see who done come a callin'.

Rabbit: "On a log all night?!! wha'd ya say?"

Uncle: "A BLOG--one of them computer chat places fer folks thas' too lazy to git to a real job
of work."

Rabbit: "I doan know nuthin' 'bout that, except thas' whar' my nephew done ordered me this
radical winger shirt."

Uncle: "Lemme see what it say on the back."

I pushed open the screen door in time to see Rabbit stand up an proudly show off his blue shirt adorned wif' the United Nations logo. It read:


Me: "Why Rabbit! I ain't seen ya' in a coon's age..but I see youse jes' as rabid as ever, you
politically incorrect ole coot. "

Rabbit: "Now Belle, doan talk love talk to me in front of yore man, I ain't had no cawfee an' I
ain't ready fer no fightin' yet."

Me: "Here's a mug big enough fer Paul Bunyan, Darlin'. How does ya take yores?"

Rabbit: "I take mah cawfee like I takes mah wimmen."

Uncle: "Hot and black?"

Rabbit: "Straight and strong, Aloysius....Ya'll ain't seen the papers yet have ya?
Wait til ya' read on them French. Seems that now Ramadan is finished they's fresh
riots, so the French police done got tough an' launched an aggressive distribution of
white flags to the neighborhoods next to the rioters."

Uncle: "Huh?"

Rabbit: "Yeah, an' the L.A. Times run a story headlined, 'San Andreas Fault in California
preemptively renamed George Bush's Fault'."

Uncle: "Youse been readin' a foreign paper, Rabbit?"

Rabbit: "A feller has to keep up wif' world events. How else ya gonna know that the Russians
broke off negotiations wif' the Orthodox-Catholic dialog that were all set up in Italy."

Uncle: "The RUSSIANS?? "

Rabbit: "Moscow Patriarchate. Seems he wants Rome to throw out the Estonians from the
yak-fest cause them Russians think the Estonians church is Russian Orthodox's 's
bidness, an' they wanna be directin' the Estonians from the desk of the Moscow
Patriarchate....which doan make no sense when the Moscow Patriarchate hisself is
broked off, an doan wanna be directed from Rome. Why's Estonian Orthodox gonna
take heed of the Patriarch when that patriarch doan take no heed from the Pope?

Uncle: "Why ya' readin' all that?"

Rabbit: "How else is I gonna learn that Harry Reid auctioned his suit and tie on eBay, tryin' to
raise millions off his name. He said 'If Limbaugh can do it so can I! ' But, they ain't
been no bites yet."

Uncle: "Rabbit...ya's pullin' mah laig, now"

Rabbit: "How would ya know....when John Edwards calls a press conference to address the
children's legal crisis-- 41% of American children don't have lawyers --and 30% of
them are from households of 80 thousand dollars per year...anything can make the
news.

An' the Dems is forcin' Bush to close Gitmo, wif' the detainees released into Mexican
custody to be put on fast track to US citizenship............

At least Hilary is admittin' some thangs--she said 'Some people have skeletons in their
closets, I just have Hsus.'

But the good news is that scientist's found that Rosie O'Donnell's .....ah, hot air, is the
cause of global warming....why it's caused more damage than Al Gore's Gulfstream. "


Me: "Rabbit, I has mah standards and youse goin' too far. Them's unmentionable subjects on
the porches." I excused mahself and went to feed the birds.
Menfolks is indelicate sometimes. It is best not to give 'em an audience.



When Rabbit shuffled down the path to his buggy and drove off I heered Uncle chuckle.

Me: "Whas' so funny?"

Uncle: "Rabbit told me he gits in trouble eve'r whar but hadn't figgered youse the sort that
would send him packin'. He said last week he were so riled up over at Miller's feed store,
whar' Tom done hired his wife's no-account brother what's a weirdo libber. Rabbit said
the libber was puttin' some chicken mash in the truck and went to hollerin' over Rabbit's
bumper sticker, shakin' his fist an' all..."Ya' know," he say, "All them fellers is for free
speech until ya say somethin' they doan like, then they's for rearrangin' yore zippered
parts."
Me: "So?

Uncle: "Well, when he drove off I seen he has a pro-choice bumper sticker."

Me: "Huh?


Uncle: "It said: If you don't believe in Lethal Injection, don't have one."

Me: "Aloysius, I ain't amused that youse amused."

Uncle: "Well Belle, baby, it's jes' funny, I cain't help it. It's jes' logical, ain't it?"

Me: "Aloysius, I'se warnin' ya' right now--Doan git in no poker game wif' Rabbit Bronson, ya
hear?"
Uncle: "Poker? Whas' that got to do wif' Rabbit's rabid right wing wacko talk?"

Me: "Rabbit got them funny sayin's and that bumper sticker offa the blogs, Aloysius. He's
been to St. Jimbob of the Apokalypse and thepeoplescube.com "

Uncle: "Aw, now Belle, that man ain't hardly heered of computers, much less any blog thangs -
-why he said so--his nephew had ter git that shirt for him--he lives too far back in them
sticks, ain't even a gator will go--ain't nobody went in thar to set up no computer fer
that dodderin' rascal."

Me: "An' iffin' ya' believes that tale he spun, he will be pleased to relive ya of yore Franklins."