Good in bed, that's what I said

So on one of the last weekends I was home, the boys and I went out for lunch at a nearby barbecue place, and then my youngest, the Dawg, said he wanted to get a haircut so we drove down to this place we go because you can almost always walk right in and get your hair cut. You may never get it cut by the same person twice in a row, which means every haircut is kind of like a roll of the dice, but it was convenient and the people are nice and, like I said, there is very rarely ever any wait.
So we go in and, sure enough, the Dawg can get right in a chair. They ask if I'd like to get a hair cut, but The Heir looks at me and says, "Dad, you don't need a haircut. You look great."
Now, vanity says maybe I really was having a good hair day and I did look good. But it was more likely that The Heir didn't want to go to the hair cutting place in the first place and certainly didn't want to sit there through two hair cuts.
Knowing that, I said no, and The Heir and I sat down to wait.
"You want to read a magazine?" I asked.
"No,'' said The Heir, looking at the racks of magazines like Glamour and Redbook and Cosmopolitan, every woman's magazine you could think of.
"I don't think I need to know 'Five Tips to Get a Guy' or "How to Tell if He's Really Into You" or ..."
He stopped just short of the next one, an article on "Are You Good in Bed?"
There was an awkward silence.
But I couldn't resist.
"You know, I'm good in bed,'' I said.
The Heir got that look of terror on his face, the one he always gets when he thinks we're getting ready to have a conversation he wants no part of.
"I don't need to hear this, Dad,'' he said.
"But I am," I asid. "You're mother says so."
He was looking off in the distance, thinking maybe I did need a haircut - and right now - after all.
"I'm sure,'' he said, terror growing. "I really don't think - "
"I have this one position that's my best," I said, smiling innocently. "Ask your mother."
"Daa-ad ..." he pleaded.
"Yeah," I said. "I curl up on my side, and I'm out like a light. I mean, I can go to sleep in no time. You're mother has always been amazed at my ability to go to sleep. She says I can sleep anywhere, anytime, through anything.
"I never have trouble sleeping. When I hit the bed, I'm out. Even if I do wake up in the middle of the night, I can go right back to sleep. I tell your mother it's because I have a clear conscious. But the simple truth is, I'm just really, really good in bed."
The Heir still couldn't look at me.
"That's what it means, right?" I asked. "Being good in bed?'
Oh, the joys of being a Dad.

Believe it ... or not

In the fall, during the course of this second career that I've stumbled into, I often had the pleasure of being involved in conversations with different levels of government and community officials trying to determine "how clean is clean."
One particular government official was a particular challenge, and it was important to reach some mutually acceptable standard of "clean.'' But as the discussions went on, he kept saying he was not going to believe the company that I worked for; then a little later he'd say he wasn't going to believe the United States government; even later he'd say he wasn't going to believe scientests; and evenually he'd insist he wasn't going to believe university researchers.
No matter who we suggested could be the arbiter of "clean," this particular official kept finding a reason to doubt the integrity of that person or institution.
Finally, at the end of yet another round of meetings, I couldn't help myself.
"So who will you believe?'' I asked. "The truth is, it's the nature of our culture to not believe. No matter who we put up as a possible authority, we can all find reasons to doubt them.
"At some point, you're going to have to decide who you believe and commit. When you decide who that is, come back and tell us, and then we can go forward."
Believing in anything is difficult these days. We've all been so disappointed - in products we buy, in the government we elect, in the preachers we listen to, in teachers we learn from, in parents, in friends, in spouses, even in our pets and perhaps even ourselves.
In fact, it's almost embarassing to admit to 'believing' in anything. Certainly it's not "cool."
Doubting is safe. We wear skepticism like a badge of honor.
I thought of this recently when I read a quote from C.H. Spurgeon: "Faith encourages every virtue; unbelief murders every one."
Think about that. I could go on for a few paragraphs breaking that apart for you, but I couldn't improve on what Spurgeon said.
When I was a kid, growing up in my traditional Southern Baptist church (http://raymelick.blogspot.com/2011/03/chapter-1-conflict-of-growing-up.html) I was terrified of commiting what we called "The Unpardonable Sin."
It was that sin that we were told God would never forgive us for, and in my King James Bible that sin was referred to as "blaspheming the Holy Spirit."
In my amazingly impressionable little boy mind, I lived in terror of committing "The Unpardonable Sin." In my little world "blaspheming" meant "taking the Lord's name in vain,'' which again, in my sheltered little world meant "cussing."
Now, I didn't cuss. But it's like the old trick of telling someone they can think of anything they want, but they can't think about elephants. Inevitably, they think of elephants. It's almost impossible not to.
So the more I'd think, "Don't use God's name as a cussword'' inevitably the "word" - or that certain combination of two words, one of which was indeed "God" - would pop into my mind.
And I'd be terrified that I'd just committed "the Unpardonable Sin" and was doomed for all time.
Silly, I know. And a psychiatrist/psychologist/counselor can probably have a field day with that story.
Later, of course, I finally learned what the "Unpardonable Sin'' really is: unbelief.
Unbelief is the only sin for which people are truly, permanantly condemned. I believe in God as presented in the Jewish-Christian Bible with roots in the Reformation, which means I believe that salvation comes by faith alone, which means you have to believe.
Think about it - unbelief is the originator of all sin because it is the ultimate rejection of God, who is completely and utterly trustworthy.
So the "unpardonable sin'' is not believing in God. If you don't believe in God, if you choose to go your own way, God will let you suffer the consequences for that unbelief. I think it was one of C.S. Lewis's most profound statements that went something like, "In the end, either we say to God 'Thy will be done' or God will say to us 'Thy will be done.'''
And one thing I do know is that I don't have the power to save myself. My will, in fact, tends to lead me into trouble.
It's not just God, however.
We want to elect leaders who believe in something and stand by that belief. Unfortunately, too many of our elected leaders seem to believe only in doing what it takes to stay elected. 
Go back to my government official. He was elected because somebody - or a lot of 'somebodies' - believed in him.
But he let that paralyze him into indecision, because he was terrified of believing in the wrong thing, causing all those people to stop beliving in him. Therefore it was easier to just not believe in anything, because that seemed safer..
Spurgeon went on to say, "Once a giant stops believing, he then becomes a dwarf."
We have a lot of dwarfs in this world.
It takes a brave man to stand up in the face of so many skeptics and be willing to say, "I believe.''
Oh, sometimes I don't always live like I believe. Sometimes my belief waivers.
But I do believe.
Because life is just so stupid when you don't.

The shot that marked the beginning of the end of "states rights.''

As I write this, it is April 12 - the 150th anniversary of what is generally considered to be the start of the Civil War.
Or, as it was known in my house, the "War of Northern Agression."
There has been and will continue to be a lot of discussion about what is commonly called The Civil War (although there was nothing 'civil' about it). CNN ran a poll that said "Four in 10 Southerners still side with the Confederacy."
In fact, the poll said 38 percent of Southerners remained sympathetic to the Confederacy, which to me is a completely different thing than 'siding.'
And the results of the poll were not quite as shocking as that headline suggests. In fact, it went pretty much the way you'd figure - unless you think all Tea Party members are right wing wackos one generation removed from wearing a white sheet and hood.
But here is why I think so many people do indeed "sympathize'' with the South: it was the last stand of States' Rights.
Let's try to keep emotion out of this discussion if we can. I'm not advocating the issue that caused South Carolina and 10 other Southern states to succeed from the Union. Clearly, slavery was and is wrong.
And let's not get all misty-eyed about Abraham Lincoln. At his first inauguration, he said he had no intention of freeing the slaves in the South, only of making all new states that joined the union 'free' states. He believed the tide was turning against slavery, and that it was inevitable that right-thinking people in the South would, before long, recognize the evil of slavery and do away with it.
And if you think about the history of the Civil Rights movement and how long it has taken to get where we are, a case could be made that it might have been better had the South come to the realization on its own rather than have the issue forced. It's kind of like any change of behavior: it is always more successful when voluntary than when externally forced on you.
Slavery might have ended legally. But look at the history of Blacks in America - all over, not just in the South - and I can show you how a legal end to slavery did not bring about a practical end to the sub-standard treatment of a race of human beings.
But let's get away from emotion for a minute and remember history.
When the nation was formed, the debate was over whether we were a voluntary union of independant states; or if we were actually the United States of America.
If the union was voluntary, then disolving the union should be voluntary as well. If we were one unified country, then Andrew Jackson was right.
I bring Jackson in because as president during the early 1830s, he threatened to bring troops to South Carolina to stop that state from seceeding over the "Tariff of Abominations.'' Jackson, despite being a Southerner, believed the Union could not be broken.
The "tariff of Abominations'' was, simply put, a tax voted in by Congress over Southern objections that basically forced Southern planters to trade with Northern industries rather than make more money by trading with industries in England and France, which were paying a higher price for Southern goods than Northern industry could afford.
The tariff, in a sense, killed free enterprise by forcing Southern planters to profit less no matter which way they wanted to sell, and built up Northern factories by giving them access to the raw materials they needed from Southern planters without having to pay fair world-market prices.
That led to talk of seccession, and it wasn't the first time a state had threatened to seceed.
During the War of 1812, northeastern states whose shipping industry was hurting because of the war decided at the Hartford Convention to seceed from the Union if the president, James Madison, didn't imediately stop the war. Unfortuantely for them, the U.S. won the war before they could make their demand, and so began the end of Federalist Party in the United States.
So there was already ground work for states believing they had voluntarily joined the union, so they should be able to voluntary leave at their pleasure.
And there was already a backdrop in which Southern states had seen the United States government make laws over their objections. In fact, one of the great problems that preceeded the break was that Lincoln never bothered to campaign in the South, so sure was he that he could win the election without needing a single Southern state.
As a result, Southern voters weren't given a chance to hear Lincoln say he wasn't going to free the slaves by force.
But Lincoln's election, to Southerners, was one more sign that the United States government was going to govern without their cooperation or input. And so before Lincoln was inaugurated, Southern representatives to the United States Congress walked out - thereby losing their voice in the great debate that should have taken place in that ruling body and eliminating any chance of a compromise that might have preserved the Union.
So whatever you think about secession and the South, the bottom line was that Southern states believed they knew best how to govern themselves.
The North said no, the federal government knew best how to govern the entire country.
And that's a debate that continues on today, doesn't it?
Slavery was and is an abomination.
But this war was about so much more.
And while you're at it, remember all those Southern States that were ruled under martial law for up to five years after the Civil War; all those white Southerners who lost the right to vote during those years of martial law; and the brutal way the Federal government and Northern industrialists continued to abuse the South for decades, claiming the "spoils of victory.''
California Gov. Jerry Brown said recently that this country was the most divided it had been since the Civil War.
If he's right, the division is over the same thing it was way back then.
Not slavery, but how far government should be allowed to be involved in our every day lives.
That's just my opinion.
 And, as Dennis Miller says, and I could be wrong.

Like a good neighbor .... if by "neighbor'' you mean "genie'' or even "neighborhood pimp"

We all know you can't take any commercial too seriously. Commercials are kind of like jokes - if you try to analyze them, they lose any value they may have ever had.
Still, it's getting to the point with some commercials that you watch and find yourself wondering if for the sake of entertainment they've forgotten what they are trying to sell; or if they even realize what they are suggesting by their "storyline."
Like the current State Farm commercials, where the company would have you believe that singing the jingle "Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there" has magical properties, like rubbing a genie's lamp or seeing the first star of the night.
You've seen the commercial. There's an accident - a ball goes through a window, a car backs into another car - and everyone is upset until the insured sings, "Like a good neighbor ..." and suddenly the insurance agent appears and says, "I'll take care of this."
That, in itself, is terrific. If only insurance agents really did show up that fast and with such confidence.
However, it's what happens next in these commercials that leaves you wondering.
The uninsured in the commercial then begin to sing the jingle, finishing with a wish: a sandwich, a hot tub, a new girlfriend or boyfriend.
At worst, it means the insurance agent is a pimp, there to meet the carnal desires of you heart. Don't like the way your significant other looks? Insurance can handle that.
How?
That raises all kinds of interesting scenarios, doesn't it?
Is the suggestion that the insurance agent can fix you up with the person of your dreams? People have been killed over insurance policies before, of course.
Or take the sandwich-hot tub scenario. What is the suggestion here - that the settlement you'll get will be more than enough to not only fix the problem, but leave you with enough cash to get something else, too?
Now if we're honest, we know tha actually does happen. Take the lessons of the disappearing Delta 88.
Years ago, I had an Oldsmobile Delta 88. I actually liked the car a lot. It was the biggest car I'd ever owned, a big four-door sedan, that was extremely comfortable given the amount of driving I do/did. And before getting the Delta 88, I had a two-seater convertable MGB; and before that, a Ford Mustang.
But in the space of about a year, the Delta 88 was stolen three times. All three times it was stolen from in front of our house. Two of the three times it was recovered at the same house a few miles from where we lived at the time; the third time it was about a mile beyond that house.
The police told me GM cars were the easiest to steal; you could do it with a hammer and a kitchen knife. The car had been stolen during a rain storm, and the guess was that some kid was walking along and decided to take the car. Because it was a kid, the police said it was pointless to make an arrest, as the kid would be out in no time. The case, to them, wasn't worth pursuing even though, as I said, the car was found at the same house two of the three times it was recovered.
There are a bunch of good stories about these episodes; stories for another day.
The point here is that each time the car was stolen, my insurance company - let's make it nameless - rewarded me with a check far greater than it actually took to fix the car.
But after the third time, this enormous insurance company dropped me without warning. Not only couldn't I get car insurance, I couldn't get homeowners insurance. It was only because of a great insurance agent from another company who convinced his company to insure me with my promise that the only way I'd make a claim for the next three to five years was if my house burned down. And I didn't. I learned my lesson - I only make insurance claims in true emergency situations.
But these commercials seem to indicate that State Farm is saying when you make a claim with them, you might just wind up hitting the lottery: getting more money than you really need, allowing you to get a sandwich, a hot tub, mnaybe even a new partner.
Is that really good business, to have an insurance company seem to promise more than just fixing the problem but also improving your life?
In all my dealings with insurance companies, I never did get a new significant other.
But then, I never had reason to ask, either.

The United States of Ponzi

OK, the title of this little opinion piece - "the United States of Ponzi" - is not exactly fair.
To Ponzi.
First, some of my beloved history. In the 1920s, Charles Ponzi was convicted of running what we now have come to call a "Ponzi scheme,'' although he didn't invent it. Simply put, a Ponzi scheme is a fraudulent investment operation in which investors are recruited to put up money in expectation of some phenominal return on that investment, a return that is paid out from the money of subsequent investors who are recruited to put up more money. Nothing is earned or produced; it's simply money changing hands - with a considerable amount skimmed off the top for the guy organizing the scheme - until eventually either the originator skips town with the bulk of the money or finally the scheme collapses because it is unsustainable and the scheme implodes (and law enforcement arrives, as in the case of Bernie Madoff).
Another version of the Ponzi is a pyramid, although experts would say while there are similarities, there are also significant differences. For example, in a Ponzi, one man does all the recruiting, while in a pyramid scheme everyone who is recruited becomes a recruiter, because the fastest way to a profit is to bring in new people, from whom you earn a percentage of the profit they make from the people they recruit, and so on and so on.
A Ponzi scheme claims to be paying off on a return from an existing investment, while a pyramid explicitly claims that money is made from new recruits who buy into the pyramid.
And a pyramid scheme will typically collapse much faster because it requires exponential increases in participants to sustain it, while a Ponzi scheme can survive by persuading existing participants to simply "reinvest'' the money they've already "made,'' eliminating the need for new participants.
What's the point?
Perhaps you read or heard, as I did, that today in the United States there are nearly twice as many people working for the government than in all of manufacturing. More Americans work for the government than work in construction, famring, fishing, forestry, manufacturing, mining and utilities combined.
That's scary.
It's scary because the people that work for the government don't really produce anything. Oh, they produce services, but they are not services that are offered on the free market. They are services that are primarily paid for through taxes, meaning whether the services are good or not, efficient or not, necessary or not, they are still paid for.
In a free enterprise system, someone providing inefficient or unecessary or unwanted services or products would not be expected to expand their business and hire new people, and certainly not reward that expanding employee base with yearly raises.
It strikes me as a scheme, kind of like a pyramid. More and more people are brought in, and are rewarded by being paid from money that they pay back into the government through taxes. Except, of course, there isn't enough money collected to pay all those workers, so more money has to be collected from non-participants, which often causes those non-participants in the government pyramid to suffer to the point that they need to go to work for the government.
But at some point, not producing goods means the pyramid will collapse. In 1960 there were twice as many people in manufacturing in this country than in government service. But we have moved from a nation of makers to a nation of takers. Nearly half of the $2.2 trillion cost of state and local governments is the $1 trillion-a-year tab for pay and benefits of state and local employees. Instead of taxes going to make life better for all, more and more of our taxes are going to pay for government employees, who perform services in a non-competitive arena which produces little income and apparently no profit (given the current level of governmental debt).
Is it any wonder that so many states and cities are having trouble paying their bills?
I read where every state in America today except for Indiana and Wisconsin has more government workers on the payroll than people manufacturing industrial goods. Wyoming and New Mexico lead the way, with more than six government workers for every worker involved in manufacturing.
Somewhere along the way, we've forgotten that government is only supposed to do those things that we can't do for ourselves. Government is supposed to provide for the common defense, enforce the law, and respond to disaster. But over time, we've come to think that government is supposed to take care of us - feed us, clothe us, educate us, make people like us, make us successful, fulfill our dreams for us.
That pyramid that appears on the one dollar bill, that is one of the symbols of our country?
The pyramid is supposed to represent strength and durability. And it is uncapped to suggest that the country  isn't finished, and the "eye'' is supposed to represent the "Eye of Providence,'' or God - just as the Latin motto over the symbol "ANNUIT COEPTIS" means "God has favored our undertaking.''
It wasn't supposed to represent a scheme.

GCRO: Golf Course Restoration Organization

This week, I'm back on familiar ground.
We – BP’s Gulf Coast Restoration Organization - are sponsors of the PGA Champions Tour Mississippi Gulf Resort Classic golf tournament at Fallen Oaks, which is run by the legendary Bruno Event Team out of Birmingham.
And that means I'm back in the familiar surroundings of a media tent, and seeing old friends like Dave Sanko of the PGA Tour; Tommy Hicks, columnist and golf writer of the Mobile Press-Register; and Gareth Clary, former golf writer  of the Press-Register but now editor of The Mississippi Press in Pascagoula.
Bill Oakley, also with the PGA Tour and part of the equally legendary Oakley family of Tuscaloosa (brother Mike is with Alabama Power, father Jim is communications professor at University of Alabama, son Will is a former Tide wide receiver now apparently thinking of a career in orthopedic medicine), is here.
Tuesday night I got to catch up to Gene Hallman and Ronnie Bruno, and introduce them to the big guys of BP who came in for the event.
And of course a number of the Champions Tour  pros that I've met in the years of covering the Brunos/Regions Classic in Birmingham, still the best Champions Tour event on the calendar.
The advantage this time of being part of one of the sponsoring companies is access to the 18th Green skybox, and getting to play in two Pro-Ams.
Tuesday I played with Chip Beck, a fellow Georgia grad whose son is married to the daughter of Parks Lee, friend of mine from Birmingham (another daughter, Rebecca, is a Furman grad who was instrumental in making my daughter feel so comfortable at school).
Beck was like one of the guys. He took videos of us hitting the ball and promised that he'd get them edited and send us copies with tips on improving our games. Go to ChipBeck.com to see what all he does.
I got to play Wednesday at the last minute with Mike Hulbert, when rain washed out the morning Pro-Am and they rescheduled the BP group for mid-day and the mayor of Biloxi, the legendary A.J. "All the Way"" Holloway had to leave to take care of city business.
Now, I'm not a good golfer. I've never had a lesson, and you can tell. My grip is too strong (left hand turned too much to the right); I hood my club head so that it looks like I'm going to hit the ball straight left; and I'm all arms, apparently.
Beck flattered me by saying I'm too good of an athlete to make the game that difficult. But somehow, my brain and hands adjust for all the flaws so that on impact my club head is somewhere near correct and I hit the ball relatively straight. I've also learned to compensate for the slight slice, although sometimes - to my frustration - the ball does go straight and I hit straight left.
I catch a lot of grief from the pros because I don’t have a driver, but tee off with a 3-wood. And it’s not just any 3-wood, but a Mizuno solid-head graphite wood, made back in the days when the golf companies were just starting to figure out all the things they could with the exotic compounds like graphite.
Since I generally hit the ball about 20 yards behind the guys who use their high-tech drivers, I don’t really mind. Beck and Hulbert both told me I’d be in front of those guys if I took advantage of technology, but I told them I am confident with my old Mizuno.
In fact, I told Beck I’d like a Mizuno graphite 5-wood, because my old 5-wood “disappeared’’ back on one of the times my car was stolen (I say “one of the times’’ because that car was stolen three times; it’s another story for another day).
Beck said, “Go on eBay and you will find one. But the cost of shipping will probably cost more than the club is worth.’’
Hulbert did the same thing. On the first tee box, he walks up and grabs my club and looks at it like it’s a dinosaur bone (although these guys are old enough to remember these clubs). I say, “Go ahead and laugh, but I like it.”
To which he shrugs and says, “That’s great, but you ought to at least get it re-gripped.”
Funny guys.

I don’t mind, because I’m pretty much a bogey golfer, which is good enough to not slow down the majority of people I play with. I’m usually good for a couple pars a round, and maybe a birdie.

Which leads me to another name-dropping golfing story.

Years ago I played in a Bruno’s Pro-Am with Bob Murphy, the former pro turned TV analyst who was back on the Champions Tour after overcoming severe arthritis.

The way these Pro-Ams work is that you get four guys and a Pro. The Pro plays from the professional tees, and the Ams hit from a little shorter tee box. The Ams play the best drive of the four, but then you play your own ball the rest of the way to the hole. The team score is the best score of the five. Since you count handicaps, I’m always valuable in these kind of tournaments because I always get a stroke every hole, and usually two strokes on each of the four toughest holes on the course – which means if, say, on a Par 5 I actually make par (which I did), it goes down as a 3 if it’s a hole on which I am entitled to two strokes.

Or, as also happened, if I make a birdie on a par 3 and I get one stroke, it goes as a 1.

Theoretically, if I were to make a hole-in-one on a Par 3 and got a stroke, I could make a zero. I’ve never done it, but it’s out there.

Anyway, I’m playing that day with Murphy and three other pretty good golfers. Two of the guys are former college players.

As the round progresses, Murphy is giving the other guys tips – slow down the swing, on this shot open the club face like that, move your thumb just a tiny bit here for better control, that kind of thing.

Finally, we’re on the 17^th tee box, a par 3 (we were playing a Tuesday Pro-Am at Old Overton), and I say, “Bob, I’ve walked along for 16 holes now listening to you give these guys advice all day, and you’ve haven’t done anything to help me.”

“Ray,’’ he said, “I’m only here a week. There’s not enough time to help you.”

Like I said, funny guys, these Champions Tour pros.

Reminds me of the best golf line I ever heard. You want to know why the pro always tells you to keep your head down when you hit the ball? So you won’t look up and see everyone else laughing.

But the Murphy story isn’t over.

I go to the tee and hit this beautiful 7-iron. It slices high and hard right, but hits a tree on the top of  a hill, drops down, bounces from rock to rock to cart path, with the last bounce sending it onto the green, where it rolls to a stop about six inches from the cup.

“Bob,” I said without looking at him, “maybe I don’t need your help after all.”

Thankfully, I didn’t two-putt.

I made birdie.

Which, with a stroke, gave me a 1.

And high-fives all around.