Mediocre Fred's Mediocre Blog (Ret.)

Random Weekend Thoughts

Today's Musical Selection: "The Boys Are Back in Town" by Thin Lizzy

Good day, all! Apparently, my mini-sabbatical made the natives a bit restless. My man Frinklin led the grousing:

Dude, you can't go on expecting us to answer to Fredhead and not put out. I
toyed with naming my readers once... Not only did the guy who first suggested it stop reading, he shut down his own blog too.

It's a curse I tell ya.

Some words of wisdom from a man who knows. I'll take your words under advisement regarding the use of "Fredheads". And do understand that it wasn't laziness or pique that kept me from posting... I just had too much on my plate to post the last couple days.

Ensie, aka Mrs. Frinklin, had a short, simple, sweet approach:

Fred! Fred! Come back! We miss you!

Thanks, Ensie. And I'm back! And though there will be a bit of bumpiness regarding posting while I move into the new home, I'll be back on the usual schedule as soon as I can.

And rest assured, loyal readers, that I'm not thinking of abandoning the blog or anything. You can expect to receive the dubious pleasure that is the Mediocre Fred Experience for some time to come.

Let's start today with some reactions to Wednesday's column, in which I recounted the story of my late-night visitor in distress. Only Frinklin and Ensie have left comments, but their remarks are right in line with what I've heard from those I've told about this in person.

Ensie thought that the night-time part of the equation was problematic:

I'm plenty happy to help my neighbors, in broad daylight, with plenty of people around.

And Frinklin apparently lives in a bad, or at least unfriendly, neighborhood:

I'd like to think I would help my neighbors, but I really dislike them. Maybe
if I lived somewhere else...

Thanks for commenting, Frinklin and Ensie. And I don't fault either of you for feeling as you do. I don't fault anyone who grew up in this society, suffused as it is with cautionary tales about the dangers that surround us, and developed reservations about good Samaritanism. There are enough horror stories about people with good intentions running into trouble that a policy of helping anyone in trouble who comes to your door isn't exactly wise. I understand that, believe
me.

But how much less of our modern fear is legitimate? Crime rates have certainly gone up over the last 50 years, but not nearly as much as our fear. In the old days, most people seeking help were on the up-and-up, and a few weren't. Today, I suspect the same is true. Maybe there are a few more bad apples out there now, but not nearly as many as we're afraid there are.

When the fear takes over, our society becomes poorer. We stop enjoying each other's company. In a society as atomized as ours, where it's ever easier to avoid your neighbors, the last thing we need is further encouragement to be afraid of the outside world.

As I say, I don't blame anyone who feels reluctant to help others, for a variety of reasons. But I think the further we envelop ourselves in our cocoons of self-protection and fear, the less unified a country we are. And the less unified we are, the poorer we are.

(By the way, John Kerry was speaking before the Congressional Black Caucus tonight, and he referenced the story of the Good Samaritan. He used the tale to hammer Bush for speaking about compassion, but not backing up his words with deeds. It's a good point and Kerry makes it well. I think he should hit that theme more. Kerry's becoming an effective speaker, by the way, but nobody's noticed. I have some thoughts on why. Maybe tomorrow.)

On a lighter note, I took a drive down to central Virginia today, and I realized yet again what a bizarre, divided state this is. Up here in Dot-Com Canyon, the bumper-sticker count leans heavily Democratic. Kerry stickers outnumber Bush stickers by a good two-to-one margin. You take a drive around here, and you start thinking sure, Virginia's in play for the Democrats. Kerry could notch a win here. So what if the Democrats haven't won the state in a presidential election since 1964? People want a change.

But then you drive an hour or two south, and you're smack in the middle of Bush country. Yes sir. The signs tacked to the split-rail fences on the cattle farms and townhouse in central Virginia proclaim "Bush/Cheney '04," and they do so loud and proud. These are big signs, I assure you.

How Republican is this part of the state? Even celebrity appeal didn't work for the Democrats. A couple years back, a fellow by the name of Ben Jones ran for Congress in the region. The name may not ring a bell, but you probably saw him as Cooter the mechanic on "Dukes of Hazzard." (You watched "Dukes of Hazzard." Admit it.) He's a pretty big name in the state, and he's well-respected. But he made the fatal mistake of running as a Democrat. A conservative Democrat, but a Democrat nonetheless. He lost. This is a yellow-dog Republican region. (The term "yellow-dog" is traditionally applied to Democrats, but I believe in equal opportunity in partisan labeling.)

On my trip down, I witnessed the perfect symbol of the region. Not surprisingly, this occurred at Clark Brothers gun shop.

For the uninitiated, Clark Brothers is more than just a gun shop. It's the true dividing line between North and South. The Mason-Dixon Line is obsolete. Maryland, supposedly part of the "South", is actually quite a liberal Northern state. And the part of Virginia where I live is hardly Southern. If anything, it's virulently anti-Southern. But down around Clark Brothers, the accents begin to thicken and the Confederate flags start to come out. Clark Brothers itself is a masterpiece of tackiness, a red-roofed building with a giant sign reading "GUNS" and, to complete the effect, a giant fiberglass bear mounted on the roof. (No, I'm not kidding.) Around Christmastime, they put a Santa suit on the bear. (Seriously!) It's like a neon sign reading, "Welcome to the South, y'all."

Clark Brothers has declared its allegiance in the forthcoming election. Oh, yes. Naturally, a "Bush/Cheney" sign wouldn't be enough for them. Oh, no no no. Rather, they fashioned a 10-foot-high metal "W", mounted it on the roof, and decorated it with tinsel and blinking lights. I'm serious. I've never seen anything quite like it in my life. The idea that this is the same state where I live and work and sit fuming in traffic between high-rise buildings... truly, it boggles the mind.

And on an even less serious note, I saw the Batmobile on the road today. No, I hadn't been drinking. It was a perfect replica of the Batmobile from the TV show, the red one with red trim. Just tooling down the main drag here in Dot-Com Canyon. On my list of on-the-road sightings, it's cooler than the Hershey's Kissmobile but slightly less cool than the time I saw the Wienermobile in the parking lot of our hotel in upstate New York. Of course, I got to ride in the Wienermobile, so that may have colored my opinion.

And on that triumphantly frivolous note, I'm done. See you down the road!

Posted by Fred at September 11, 2004 08:24 PM