Newscoma

There is a disconnect between average citizens and the people voted into office representing them in office.

I know that’s a no-brainer but it needs to be mentioned.

Yesterday, the Senate passed the guns in bars and restaurants bill in Tennessee, which I spoke of last week with our old friend, Mr. Jimmy, who has had more choice words to stay about in recent days that I can’t print here because it would make your brain freeze up.

I’m second amendment. I know a lot of people that carry and have their permits to do so. I have a deer in my freezer right now courtesy of a hunter. My father and grandfather had guns and rifles that we were not allowed to even look at cross-eyed when I was a child.

That’s not the point.

The point is that it’s common sense that guns and booze do not mix. It’s that simple. And our legislature in this state had to debate this? Let me help, guns and booze do not mix. It’s not about guns. It’s not about booze. It’s about that a law will go into effect that say you can mix them together and the simple fact that I’ve talked to a lot of people who own these kinds of businesses that are unclear on some things. Not everyone has a computer to go look up the bill.

And, there should have been a very distinct line between restaurants and bars in this legislation. That’s my opinion.

The disconnect that I speak of comes from the appalling fact that people here in Hoots that make their livelihood in small juke joints (for lack of a better word) were not approached about this bill. Just talking to the local chamber or buddies at a Fish Fry/Strawberry Festival/Iris Festival at a luncheon where the local clique is does not speak to the entire voice of a community. (For that matter, neither do I which I own.) I do know they were approached by these folks that don’t fit into the political demographic of those who gets consulted and those who doesn’t. If your political representative is only going to be around from 12:08 p.m. to 1:12 on their agenda when they are going to be on a float in a parade, some folks can’t lock up their businesses and run them down. And politicians are notorious for calling at the last minute saying they are going to be in town. Not everyone can get there because of this crazy thing called a job.

And that is where my disappointment lies in our leadership in Nashville. One of the pat answers was “Well, they can put up a sign.” Signs are already up, dudes which I think speaks volumes.

All righty then, let’s look at the dollars. If a drunk person enters a bar after they’ve been drinking somewhere else, that bartender can opt not to give them a drink. Yeah, that’s seem simple. So drunk dude is having a coke, has a gun on him and someone says something he doesn’t like. (I’m being very simplistic here, I realized, but just setting up the situation.)

Bars can sometimes be volatile. Argument breaks out and the worst case scenario happens. Let’s pray it doesn’t, but let’s say it does. (Of course, it’s happened before this bill but work with me here.)

So, the bar did the right thing. They didn’t serve this person. They knew the person had been drinking but they didn’t serve them alcohol during their stay in the juke joint. They may or may not have known dude/chick had a gun. Drunk dude/chick didn’t buy a beer as he was carrying.

Something happens.

But the question remains very simple. Who is held liable if there is an incident?

Is the bar held liable because they followed the law or is the drunk person held liable (the criminal part will be taken care of by law enforcement)?

A sign doesn’t really discuss those things, now does it.

Many people think that it won’t make a big difference, and that’s good. I want to look at both sides of the story, but what I’m talking about is that there questions that went unanswered to the people it affects them the most. Once again, I speak of communication in geographically challenged areas like Hoots. That connection between places like Hoots and Nashville has a large gap, as usual. It’s not like some of us haven’t tried, but still …

Politicians will keep talking to the Chambers, to their buddies and to other folks who basically agree with them on everything. Believe me, I’ve seen this first hand, but the bottom line is there are a whole lot of subcultures in this state which may not get the attention that they should but that are also of value.

When the laws impact those subcultures, the politicians need to talk to them. If you can wave to the crowd in a parade, you can talk to folks who will be impacted by the laws you are creating.

And they don’t need to be so disconnected, because those people vote too. One place I spoke to has raised over $100,000 for the Special Olympics over the years. Another place has also raised hundreds of thousands of dollars helping citizens with supplements to their insurance or lack of when that person is sick.

Everything may not be what it seems on the surface. And those people are talking about who they will vote for more than a year before the election because they feel very disconnected by the people representing them now.

There are different kinds of constituents, campers.

Were they asked about the bill?

You know the answer to that question.

They aren’t to happy with all of this. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Well, we have hit the three of the Big Gs in this legislative season (Guns and God), let’s move on to the gays now.

Unemployment and education can wait, she says with a great deal of snark.

(Sing title to Cowboy by Kid Rock. It rather works.)

Have you ever had a day where it went so slow that it felt like I was riding the back of a turtle that was leaving Hoots and had to be in Vegas by the end of the work day?

I did see one of my coworkers pull her cell phone out of her bra when it rang and talk to her husband about she wanted Loretta Lynn’s Greatest Hits CD while “I’m the Happiest Girl in the Whole USA” serves as her ringtone. This rather endears her to me.

As I think the most viable line of employment for me these days is being a bona fide hobo, it was not a day of fun and revelry. I had to go try to figure things out last night and I realize I’ve got some pretty big decisions to make in the coming weeks. As I am really not in the mood to be an adult right now, I’m not looking forward to things I must do, I thought I would just share my random dark thoughts.

I realized that I most likely need a new hobby. While we wait for me to determine what I actually need to do, let’s do a link dump.

• Guns, Guns, Guns are the Tennessee Legislature’s favorite topic. I still maintain that the locals have not heard from their elected officials. Bluto has a good write-up about this.
• See Rock City!
• We’ve done puppies at Chez Coma. Le Blanc has kittens.
• I concur. Jack Lail has a petition worth signing. Read The Bill to be sent to our representatives. If this wahoos are going to vote on this stuff that we have to live with, then they at least need to know what the bill says. (Filed under This-Should-Be-Obvious.)
• Get that pitchfork back out of the shed. AIG is at it again with the bonuses.

Now on to various annoying autobiographical stuff. You know that I’m bored and tired. I think I’ve been a harpy about that one little fact this week. So, in a dream quest that was much more exciting than my real life, I hung out with a blogger during my nocturnal wanderings.

Last night I dreamed about Nashville’s very own Aunt B. We were in Memphis eating crepes and a very young Keith Olbermann was showing us around Beale Street. Then we went to Graceland w/Olbermann because we were both convinced he had psychic powers and we wanted to channel the ghost of Elvis’s mother Gladys. Olbermann grew very tiresome to us, so we just left him and drank tea in some spinning restaurant that oddly looked like the one at the Doubletree in Nashville.

Dreams don’t have to make sense.

Finally, this has been around the tubes the last couple of days and we just got our Internet back at the house yesterday. Your moment of Tennessee government zen with a tip of the hat to Christian Grantham:

So I shot a gun.

I’d never shot a gun before. We didn’t have them in my house when I was a kid. I think my dad had one but he never had it around.

I tried to kill a can. The can survived. Of course, the gun I shot was a 357 or something like that and my ears rang for 24 hours after I shot the damn thing. If I were going to review the shooting of the gun, the only thing I’d say is that it did exactly what Aunt B. said some time back and that is it went Crack-Pow.

As I talk just about like I Twitter (which, you can ask Badger Beth that I’ve been practicing lately in obscure ways. I tell her it’s like twittering but, you know, with words and looking at people. I will randomly say “Look a cat in a sweater.” “Fruit Loops taste like fruit suck” or “If I was On Sig’s boat on Deadliest Catch, I would be tired yet awesome.”

You know, random things.

Badger indulges me in this social experiment by ignoring me. I put it up on Twitter and had a rather lively conversation about it over there but realize that I hadn’t navel-gazed over here about it.

As for the gun, I don’t have any idea why I shot it. I never had before. Now I can say I did. There is no purpose or reason behind it. No liberal observation. It was loud.

No can was killed in this experiment.

And Mabel rode on the back of a four-wheeler because she wouldn’t ride in a truck when we went to shoot.

On another note, I have not ever really ridden a four-wheeler much nor, until this spring, have I ever hung out in the country but, you know, Goosepond Swamp Monster and all.

I’m a townie. Yes, there are different societal systems in Hooterville. As I continue my quest to find gainful employment in a place where I can eat sushi every day without having to drive an hour, I’m experiencing all I can. I have also realized that mosquitoes think I’m a bar and grille as they dine on me unmercifully when I’m enjoying the spoils of the farm.

To keep my street cred, I did shoot the gun in a tie-dye T-shirt.

Just saying.