Rules of Life

Rules of life come about when, well, life comes about. I'm sure you've all heard the classic definition of insanity. If you keep doing the same thing over, and over again, then you're nuts! I submit that you may not be totally nuts, having been born in the Deep South sometimes people are just stupid. Anyway, I try to formulate rules as I go along, and be warned, my rules are a little left of center because I'm the guy who walked off my steady job and went to Nashville to be a star, and if that's not nuts I'm not a white boy from Austin!

1) Never remarry an ex wife.
2) When in the shower, and you wash your butt, turn the hot water down.
3) Never put a beer into the cup holder on your dash.
4) Beer before liquor, never sicker.
5) If you find yourself talking to yourself, and lose the argument, recalibrate.
6) Never approach a girl sitting by herself in a bar. (I don't believe in Santa either.)
7) Never drink blended whiskey, cheap beer in a thirty pack or wine in a box.
8) Never look at a cop while driving.
9) Never pet someone else's dog when they make a point to say, “He doesn't bite!”
10) Drive at least five miles under the speed limit in Florence, Texas, and don't look at the cop.
11) Never try to explain the music business to your brother who’s been in the Electrical Union for forty years.
12) Never own an “inside” cat.
13) Never clean your ears with someone else's keys.
14) Don't eat gas station burritos unless you're constipated.
15) Keep your house orderly and clean. It makes people think you're on the ball, even if you're not.
16) Try to make your bed at least once a week.
17) Never believe any advertisement.
18) Do not answer “800” calls.
19) Always wash your hands well after eating jalapeños. You'd be amazed at all the places your hands go during the day.
20) And last, but not least, rework your rules of life every day.

The Magic Two by Four

How many times does Hillary have to be helped up steps, shoved into a van, or get picked up off the ground before liberal democrats begin to see that this woman does not need to sit in the Oval Office? The incident at the 9/11 memorial yesterday is just the latest in a long line of health events that have plagued her since she fainted at home in 2012, and received a concussion. Her exit from one of the debates was a red flag, and stops to rest on the way out of a  building a few months ago only added fuel to the fire, a fire she tried to put out by dismissing the entire matter as “conspiracy theories.”

You have to ask yourself, if she can't sit in a chair during a memorial service then how is she going to face Putin for prolonged periods of time, indeed, how is she going to work the strenuous job of running the country, even with Bill helping? She does put on a brave front, but the cameras are recording the catastrophic train wreck that is the democratic quest for the White House. I told you the dems were gonna run her even if they had to shove a two by four up her butt to hold her up, and by golly I was right! When she crawled into that van yesterday I was looking for the two by four.

It's sad to win an election because the other candidate is sick, and Hillary's sick. Sicker than FDR, and he was in w wheel chair. Of course there's the old “Clinton dodge” going on here, too. Friday she was diagnosed with pneumonia, but her campaign kinda forgot to let that out until she left that slimy trail from the memorial to the van. It took three Secret Service to get her in. Took that many to get JFK out of the limo in Dallas.

It will be interesting to see how she does in the upcoming debates with Trump. Between coughing fits, bathroom breaks, and fainting spells I figure she’ll answer up to five or six questions. Ok folks, let's get real. This is a game changer. Even the main stream media is running this story, and God knows they don't run anything that makes a liberal democrat look bad. The WTF factor is kicking in, and the longer she stays home, misses scheduled dates, and wears those glasses the more people are going to question her ability. To his credit, Trump hasn't really capitalized on this. He doesn't have to. It's the lead story everywhere.

The election will ramp up from this point forward, and Hillary is already dragging. What if she wins? Then she goes from campaigning to actually running the country. She looks so bad now she actually makes Bernie Sanders look good! Hillary, Trump, and Sanders are all three “reptile baits.” She's sixty-eight, Trump’s seventy, and I think Sanders loaned a pen to Lincoln to write the Gettysburg address. What am I talking about? I'm a reptile bait,too.

Hillary can't drop out. The democrats have lots of two by fours, but this is a game changer, and even though Trump didn't jump right on it, it's STILL there. Everyone knows. All Trump has to do is pump up the volume, and she'll fade. She'll go to work for the Clinton Foundation and we’ll get a brand new wall with TRUMP! TRUMP! TRUMP! flashing in neon lights across the top. Oh, and Whoopi Goldberg can book her flight.

I Woke Up Sixty-five Years Old This Morning

I woke up sixty-five years old this morning. Turning sixty-five is a milestone. First off, if you grew up in the sixties you never thought you'd make it this far. Back then we thought anyone over thirty was brain dead, and you should never trust them. If you think Obama is a trip, try Lyndon Johnson, add a dash of Nixon and you get Carter. Castro ran Cuba through the whole mess. Kinda makes you wonder, but I digress.

This morning I woke at the usual time. I DID wake up, but I'll address that later. For me, Sunday is just another day, but THIS Sunday is my birthday. Yeah, I was born exactly fifty years before 9/11, lucky me. On that day, fifteen years ago I woke with a hangover. I'd celebrated with friends the night before, and after the first plane hit I thought it was like when the Empire State Building was hit way back when. When the second plane hit, like everyone else, I knew it was something different. Funny thing though, with all the experts surprised to see them fall, as I watched the news footage, I EXPECTED the towers to fall. When the first one went down, I just waited for the next. I can never explain how I knew that, I just did!

So anyway, I woke up sixty-five years old this morning. I always wake up with a positive attitude and then the planet screws it up for me, but no big deal, that's what locks on doors are for. Point of interest, there wasn't a University of Texas Longhorn cheerleader resting beside me, but I'm working on that. I'm looking for my perfect match and so far it's my dog. She licks toes. It's hard to find a girl who does that.

I've developed a passion for peach flavored tea. I tried raspberry, but it didn't work out for me. Now this is the weird part. Our Texas supermarket does this big ad thing about “all natural” this and that, showing some small Texas farm, complete with happy family, and the obligatory foxy daughter. Uh, they don't show all the illegals picking the peaches, but here’s the funny part. When I drink their “all natural” peach tea I'm good! Hey, I'm allergic to peaches, connect the dots. If I consume peach ANYTHING the dots are all over my face. Hope the daughter is all natural at least.

I'm actually not that much different from when I was forty, or fifty. I think the change came for me at thirty-five or so. I have a formula, now work with me on this; I believe you are over the hill when you can date a girl who was born AFTER you got your first divorce. Long about that time girls also start holding doors open for YOU!

I walk slower now, but not because I'm tired, or weak, or anything like that, but rather I've learned with my bad leg that if I place my feet carefully that I  tend to fall on my butt far less often. The commercial, “I’ve fallen, and I can't get up isn't as abstract for me as it used to be.” I don't watch Doctor Oz, nor any of those Big  Pharma commercials.  Oz is an idiot, and the commercials irritate me. They always end with something like, “If you begin to lose your vision, hearing, have chest pain, paralysis on the right side or bloody diarrhea, contact your doctor immediately.” Then, you see this smiling old wench playing with her grandkids, and the voice says, “You can live without the heartbreak of a dry scalp!” Jesus! Rub some oil in your hair!

I find that I really stop at stop signs, and look both ways now. This comes from years of seeing what happens when you DON’T stop and look both ways. That, and I'm not in a big hurry to get anywhere anyway. I go to the supermarket every day because I like to ride the little cart. If your sixty-five, and in a cart at the supermarket you'll find girls will reach to the top shelf to help you get something. Young girl, shorts, tank top, stretching to reach the raisins . . . I digress again. I think the main difference in aging is that over the years you become acutely aware that you can go to bed, and wake up dead! At twenty you wouldn't even consider such a possibility, but the idea becomes more manifest as the years roll by. Also, if this happens when you're twenty there is a big investigation. At sixty-five or seventy or so people just think it's about time!

The bad part is my whiskey-drinking, smoking family tends to live into their late eighties or nineties. So, most likely I'll be rewriting this article someday. Wonder how many more articles I'll have written by then, and what will we be writing with? Maybe we’ll just talk into our palm, and people will know what you're thinking. I'll probably still be thinking about raisins on the top shelf.

Hard to Accept

It's hard for me to accept the 9/11 is now history, being taught to kids in high school who were born after the towers fell. It's hard to accept  the New York skyline without them. It is had to accept a scar that never healed. It's hard to accept an administration throwing the doors open for the same type of people who perpetrated the attack to just waltz into the country with no more security check than Disneyland. It's hard  to accept anyone not understanding Donald Trump’s simple message of restricting these people. I'm just a Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin, but did I miss something here?

The late, great Muhammed Ali once said if he saw a thousand rattlesnakes coming at him, and only fifty wanted to bite him, while the other nine hundred and fifty meant him no harm, he'd STILL slam the door. And, friends and neighbors, that's what we need to do now, slam the door. Saudi Arabia was up to its eyeballs in the attack on the Towers. The congress, yesterday, passed a bill allowing the survivors of the attack to at least sue that nation for grievances. Obama has stated he’ll veto the bill. (N-Word PLEASE!) How y'all like that. I'm trying to smooth out my vernacular. Crystal Lee will be so proud.

Back to what I was saying. The Italians have a phrase; “Insult me to my face.” That’s what Saudi Arabia, Obama, Hillary Clinton, and most of the Democrats have been doing. What that means is that they are so unconcerned with us that they can screw us again, and again, without even trying to hide it because they feel that they are untouchable. I'm going to be blunt with you guys. Trump is not a politician. That, and he's got some flaws, but when I look at the Hillary camp, I'd vote for El Chapo before I voted for her. At least he doesn't just let his dope dealers get killed. Did someone say, “Benghazi?” There are probably more terror cells in America right now than there are in Iran! It don't take much, folks. We've already seen,that. The towers fell and the president, supposedly the most “powerful man in the world” flew in circles for hours like a fool while the Secret Service talked into their sleeves and, wore those silly sunglasses that tell everyone over two years old who they are.

Times are about to get rough. If Hillary wins the wholesale attack on America will be ON, and this ain't tin foil hat stuff, folks, it's real! If Trump wins there will still be trouble. You don't think the radical Islamists are going to just pack up and go home, do you? If you believe that have I got a “Gun Free Zone” sign to sell you, and it's on sale! Au Contraire! Muhammed and the boys will step up the game because they'll realize their time is short. You can kiss LA. New York, Detroit, and every other major city good bye. If you will note, there are no Texas cities in that list. Wanna know why? Because when it all goes down we’ll round up all of them bad boys and hang ‘em right in the street for all the people to see, THAT’S why. Then we'll go republic, and if you won't eat a McRib you don't get in. It's really that simple.

We in Texas grieve for America. That's why we’re trying to resurrect it, and I used the right word because it's as dead as a ham sandwich. Like I've said before, we don't even have to write a constitution, we’ll just use theirs, they're not doing anything with it at the time. You don't understand. We’re not really seceding from America, we’re trying to give it BACK to you, because if Americans, real Americans see that our plan works we will end up with fifty sovereign nations, banding together with a common heritage, yet distinct, making that nation great again, and then maybe, just maybe the dead of 9/11 can finally rest in peace. Yet, all these things are hard to accept. Texas is America’s last chance, and my friends in the great white north, we’re on your side. You know us. We’re the guys who'll hole up in a crumbling Adobe church and shoot at you, and we damn sure can't count to five thousand!

Consequently, I Live Alone

I am a creature of habit. Consequently, I live alone.  I hate to admit that, but it's true. I get up the same time every morning. Don't need an alarm clock because I have a dog who pees. I set the coffee pot the night before so I don't have to think before my first smoke. I brush my teeth, and most mornings I shower, unless I'm tired, hung over, irritated, or have a good idea for an article, then I do a “spit bath” and go to the kitchen to meet the day. I've found that a good litmus test is if you can smell your feet you probably need a shower. Dog don't care. Shucks, she's a dog! Women should be more like dogs. Some are, actually, but I digress.  Consequently, I live alone, which can suck at times, but it has its moments, and one of those moments is not having a chick to order you around in the morning before you can see. I love getting up in the morning and doing exactly what ---> I <--- want to do. The minute “she” makes you go to Starbucks instead of her going to  the kitchen the negotiation of your freedom begins, and that night the return on investment is her headache. (Consequently, I live alone.)

Facebook now has this wonderful feature called “Memories.” As you know I write a bit, so my memories consist to a great degree of hundreds of previous articles, and since I've been under the scrutiny of publishers for quite some time now, I don't have to spell check much because I'm from Texas.  I try not to “drill down” on any subject, flying high above the issues, and allowing my readers to form opinions on their own. Surprisingly I don't get much hate mail, unless you count that girl in India, but she's probably eating roaches anyway so what does she know? Anyway, I will look at the article a bit, and put it out there. I haven't been as widely read as I am now, so these pieces are new to some. Others who have seen them did so last year, two, or even three years ago, so the posting is nostalgic for them, or perhaps they didn't read it then, but do now. At any rate that gets the day rolling (and, again, I don't have to think much.)

I used to scan the news for ideas, but I've discovered that I can get more from talking with my dog so I gave that up, and I just check my mail. Ideas “cook” in my head. I honestly don't know where they come from, I just know that when one is done it pops out. Along about this time I get my morning call from Ted. Ted is my partner in this conspiracy, and he has more degrees than a thermometer, so he guides me toward a semblance of literacy, with is always a plus. He throws the ball, and I put it over the fence. I think I understand about every third word he says.

I don't get tied down by endless citing of facts. For one it’s boring. It bores me to write like that, and with my demographic of readers I KNOW it bores them, so I just don't do it. I try not to lie much, but I'm a Texan, and you know how we are. Hey, I've been married six times stand up Christian, so you know I can spin a yarn. Been run off so many times that I thought PMS meant
“Pack my stuff!” (Consequently, I live alone.) Everybody covers their butt, and no one looks into a mirror in the morning with  an “S.O.B.” looking back.

I was a songwriter for years so I'm always looking for a “hook.” A hook is a simple thought that sticks in your head. Once I find a hook I build the article around it. From there the formula is almost always the same. Open, hook, expound, conclude, hook, and out. Of late I've learned about “SEO” or “Search Engine Optimization,” and I will construct according to that. I'm quite good at it, actually, and if you don't think so just Google “Killeen Independent School District,” and see what pops up on page one right UNDER their official web site!

From there I go through a distribution routine that I came up with, and watch the numbers roll. This is where you learn what people want in the morning. I've found that most people are just like me, I don't want to labor a point, and they don't want to put up with it. I try to obey the rules of syntax, but I don't get all psychotic about it. Back in high school my English teacher told me that I'd never be able to communicate in the English language. So, I just reinvented the language my way, and now I get read by thousands of people like me. Haven't read any of her articles, but I'm sure they're out there somewhere.

After that I touch base with people beginning the steady decent into cocktails. The next day the process begins all over again. One of the basic things about me is I'm happy with my life. There are little things I'd like to fix, but the pluses far outweigh the negatives. As I hone my writing skills, and venture into new areas (The Rise of the Algorithm) I expand my understanding of the human experience, and frankly, understand MY existence, which is complicated, but it's not, actually. I think I'm beginning to attain wisdom, which scares the hell out of me. I'd rather perfect the martini and learn to talk to my dog, which, after enough martinis, may very well happen. Consequently, I live alone.

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

Take me out to the ball game. I went to my first in Nashville years ago. It was a minor league team, and there’s just something about being there. I went to a football game in San Diego, and the feeling was the same. All of that having been said, with everything else going to hell, the ball games have naturally fallen prey to lives mattering, restrooms crowded, and, of course, if Obama had a son he’d be making about eight mil a year, and sitting through the National Anthem!

Colin Kaepernick chose to sit this one out, and of course we had to check the politically correctness meter to see how many lives mattered,  laws were passed, or quite frankly, if he’d make any difference to the game. Hey, I never heard of this guy. He might be the bomb, I don't know. I stopped keeping track of players when Mickey Mantle retired.

Did you ever notice when you go to a ball game that you leave your car, stand in line, find a seat, (the CHEAP seats) and leave the world behind? You're not worried about the Zika Virus, walls, Hillary’s last coughing fit, or where Bruce Gender took a leak last night. For a couple hours the world can turn without you, and the grandkids can  have popcorn.

Back in the day the ball players were heroes. Babe Ruth had a drinking problem, but all we saw was him pointing to where that home run hit was going for that little boy in the hospital. Jesse Owens was black as a cup of coffee, but America cheered when he jerked Hitler’s shorts in a knot, and don't even get me started about the Cowboys. Tom Landry really did take it all with him.

Now the playing field is a stage for political action. Ok, numb nut! We don't CARE if you're irritated about the color of your skin. Our children and grandchildren are in the stands, wide-eyed at the spectacle, and don't understand what all the fuss is about, when you won't honor the very country that made you a millionaire for running, and throwing a ball. Did you know that in Rome, the gladiators were mostly slaves, cheered on just like those in the NFL today? And, if they fought real hard, and pleased the crowd they got a wooden sword, and you can bet your boots they stood with everyone else when the emperor showed up. (He was the guy buying the pizza and beer.)

Still, I believe a man should have the right to follow his conscience. If he wants to sit out the anthem, then that's his free choice. You know, when you're doing what you know is right, money doesn't matter. If you feel in your heart of hearts that you are doing what God meant for you to do then you are fulfilling His role for you. So, why don't you throw that nasty old football down, and go to work for Black Lives Matter? I'm sure they'll pay you well!

The Killeen Independent School District

The Killeen Independent School District is a predatory, profit based entity that is a danger to children and needs to be reviewed by the state of Texas. Oh, my bad, good Sunday morning, and happy 4th y'all. I was looking for a diplomatic way to write about this, but they weren't very diplomatic with me so I'm gonna return the favor. We’ll see how they like my mutton.

My ex has a heart condition. Periodically she has to return to Texas for an update at Austin Heart, and did so again this summer. Now, without a long, boring recitation of our family history, suffice to say we have concluded a five year saga to secure my five grandchildren, Puck, Just-a-Bobby, Skinny Head, Nick the Lawyer, and New Baby. As you know, my ex’s deceased husband, Joe, adopted them and bequeathed all his military benefits to them, including a six thousand square foot home on the shores of the Great Salt Lake. This process was expedited by a very wonderful worker with the CPS. Nichole, who was brought to tears when I told her Joe’s plan, and the possibility that he wouldn't make it because the clock set by Agent Orange was ticking, and it looked like the “Ol’ Sarge” wasn't going to take his last hill. Well, with the her help, and an iPhone Joe DID appear in court, from his death bed, and the children are set up for life!

My grandchildren had a rough ride early on, with Puck, a type one diabetic, falling into coma, and all the others enduring abuse of one form or another, but they're strong, and they got ATTITUDE! In foster care they formed the “gang of five” and survived! The serenity of Salt Lake, and the influence of the LDS culture went a long way. They clung to each other when they entered public school. Enter the Killeen Public School system.

Remember the day when teachers taught reading, writing, and “rithmatic?” Well, that's not the KISD! Why heck no! They are social engineers, psychologists, advisors to the governor’s council, you name it. Now, bear in mind that Killeen is a camp town with a huge military presence. This in itself is not a bad thing. The town has everything you'd want in the way of food, entertainment, and access to Dallas, Austin and San Antonio. The problem is that a large percentage of the teachers are NOT from Texas, know nothing about the culture, and will most likely not spend the rest of their lives in Killeen.

Our issues began at Bellaire Elementary. Soon after the kids entered school we were deluged with CPS cases. Bobby slipped and fell in the school yard, CPS case. Puck cut her bangs too short, CPS case. Her blood dipped, CPS case, AND EMS, police, and maaaaaany meetings concerned with the “state” of the children. Now, ask yourself, what could be driving all this? Well, I'll make it simple, and just tell you. It seems that several teachers had divided up the children and called the CPS repeatedly, trying to use it as a tool to engineer a foster adopt situation. This is not speculation, people, they were bold enough to state this publicly, interjecting that my ex, and Joe were “too old, and frail!” We went to home schooling.

Now, we didn't just trot over to Walmart for a Big Chief tablet (do they even make those any more?) Heck no! We got up off of thousands (I'm not kidding) of dollars, and got materials and school plans from an accredited CHRISTIAN entity. Every day was school, with the weekends reserved for field trips to the Alamo, the Capitol, and any place else in Texas that could be integrated into the process. Joe bought the house in Utah, and began to make his journey from Austin to Salt Lake City as he slowly went down. Oh, yeah, my ex had a heart attack just for good measure and had to take a day off. After Joe died we found ourselves in Texas settling his estate. We thought (foolish) that we could enroll the kids in school to give us free time as we did this. Well, the attacks began immediately, this time assisted by a neighbor who was a volunteer at Bellaire, and guess what? She already had several foster children, complete with a check, of course, would just LOVE to have a little girl to round out the family. This was the same lady who call SWAT when the twins had a stick fight in the back yard. Yep, another CPS case! BACK to home schooling, and BACK to Utah.

Utah people are unique. In the town that the children lived in, the people there were descended from families that pushed wheel barrows over the Rockies to settle the area that the Prophet, Brigham Young referred to as “the place!” They KNOW kids! There was a big difference between a Killeen teacher who couldn't find Killeen on the map a year ago, and a big, strapping Mormon missionary doing his duty to the church down at the “Boys and Girls Club.” It's as different as this: If a child shows up for school up there, and are a little tattered, elderly people volunteer time combing hair, changing socks, and getting a hot breakfast into them. Bellaire? You got it! ANOTHER CPS case!

Now, I'm not attacking the CPS in this article. They are bound by law to investigate all reports, but they weren't born yesterday, and they weren't born in the dark, and as time went by they began to understand that the area around that particular school was a glowing red dot of cases. It appeared that the Turtle Bend subdivision had the worse parents in the state. So many reports were filed that eventually the principle decided to change jobs, but that's none of my business. Have another portion of mutton.

While in Utah we went back to home schooling, but not for a bad reason. Home schooling was just easier than ferrying five children to school every day, and it had the support of the local school, who even had people drop by to assist now and then. As time went by my Ex had to return to Texas this summer for her checkup. Before she left she enrolled the kids in public school in Utah. There were several reasons for this. The kids took a vote, and wanted to socialize. New Baby wasn't old enough to go, but got to eat breakfast with his brothers and sister at school, and that made him feel like he was in “school.” Bear in mind he was being home schooled none the less, and could read, write, and cruise Facebook. He was. FIVE!

So, my Ex came down for the tune up. The doctors wanted to do a stent. School started in Killeen during that time, with Utah about a week later. We had a grease fire in our main house in Killeen, and had relocated to another one of our homes there. With recovering from surgery, and rebuilding the burned house, we put the kids into Clifton Park, the school that serviced that part of Killeen. This school was situated less than a mile down Jasper Road from Bellaire. We were STILL home schooling, with intentions of returning to the Salt Lake within a week. The children were enrolled up there, and there was full communication with Utah. Within ONE day we had problems. Side comments from teachers declaring that they’d love to have Puck because she was so cute, and obviously my Ex couldn't handle five children. What happened to reading, writing, and “rithmatic?”

We were right on schedule. My Ex went to withdraw then babies for the trip home one Friday. After the children were gathered the delays began. Everything from having to find backpacks right up to trying to remove them to separate rooms. My Ex finally just took the kids to the car and left! The journey back to Bountiful is just another field trip for the kids. Yep, home schooling even then! Bear in mind the kids were completely checked out of KISD at this time. Well, she's on the way home and you guessed it . . . here came the CPS! We had a very short conversation on my lawn, and they left. Now, part of what Clifton Park was claiming was that the kids were “poorly educated” and had to be put back one or two years due to home schooling and that the Utah schools were not up to standard.  They were even going to put New Baby back, and it was his first week of public school, outside the complimentary breakfasts in Utah, figure that one out! Interesting note; upon return home he was found to be “talented and gifted” as is Puck. Also, Nick the Lawyer, one of the twins, has been nicknamed that for a REASON! The Killeen school declared that the twins could not read, but that didn't stop them from having them SIGN the school rules which several things. First, and foremost, the twins COULD sign their names, implying they could read SOMETHING. That means they could read, so the school lied. Or, they couldn't read and the principle forged the document, which means SHE lied! I

Presently, the children are in school. They are also home schooling at the same time. Guess that makes up for the “sub-standard” Utah schools, huh? Sub-standard. In a state where five year olds can read the Bible! Teacher PLEASE! My question to the parents of Killeen. Let's just say I'm only half right in all I've said here. Do you really want to trust your precious children to this system? When you see your child go through those doors, do you really know what's going on on the other side, with teachers, and staff grooming your child for foster adopt  rather than concerning themselves with education?  Do you really KNOW the teachers? I mean REALLY know them. My involvement with this issue  seems to be centered on two schools, less than a mile apart, and staff that flows between them. It may trickle out to other schools, but I have not had direct interaction with them. I am NOT speculating, these are things that I've seen, and have been advised by people inside the system. My solution? Get involved! Go to the  PTA. Question teachers. Challenge staff. If I stay in the area I intend to become involved, and bring the full weight of my connections, both state and national to bear on this issue and these people. Hey! They came to ME! Just playing by the rules they set. This weekend I attended a rally in Austin,  and was surprised to find a number of well placed people who were very involved in this problem. I learned about Common Core, the financial incentives behind Star tests. I learned about the addiction of public schools to federal money, which, by the way was not a small part in the saga above. One teacher returned from a meeting while my ex as in the office and said there weren't enough special Ed kids, and they had to come up with more. Well, wouldn't you know there were five federal grants sitting right there in the office. Time to call the CPS!  In conclusion: Be apathetic about the election. Be apathetic about secession, but for God’s sake don't be apathetic about the safety and welfare of your children! They're out there, folks, and they're open for business . . . YOUR business, YOUR kids, YOUR life!