Louisiana Voice

As many of our readers know, we are in the process of launching an online newspaper, or to keep up with the technical term, an e-newspaper.

To be called Louisiana Free Press, our publication focus exclusively on Louisiana politics and we will broaden our coverage to all state agencies, boards and commissions. We will solicit submissions from writers all over the state. Subscriptions will be free to our readers with expenses paid by advertising revenue and fund raisers.

Our first fund raiser is to offer vinyl bumper stickers. An illustration of the bumper sticker can be found on the right, immediately beneath the advertisement for the book Edwards in the Governor’s Mansion.

The bumper sticker employs the Greek letter for the mathematical symbol for pi, or π, followed by “yush,” which when combined, is Piyush, the first name of Gov. Jindal. The full bumper sticker which consists of white lettering on a blue background, reads:

π-yush = 3.14 (on a scale of 100)

We are offering these for $2.50 each or three for $6.

State employees may purchase the bumper stickers but should not place them on their vehicles for obvious reasons. But state employees who purchase the stickers can certainly pass them out to sympathetic friends who do not work for the state.

To order your sticker(s), email us at louisianavoice@cox.net and we will send you a return email telling you the address to send your check(s).

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The 2012 football seasons for LSU and all other Louisiana colleges and universities have been cancelled by Gov. Piyush Jindal in favor of virtual tailgating and virtual football as the natural extension of his virtual school vision.

Jindal apparently has no regard for the ripple effect his virtual school policies will have on the Louisiana economy and the havoc those policies will wreak on campuses each fall across the state.

And if Mitt Romney is elected and he enacts the same platform on a national scale, the country will revert to the Dark Ages of collegiate football.

Oh, the humanity!

How will we cope as beer-gutted, brain-addled, maniacal football fans if our favorite college, i.e. LSU, Louisiana Tech, Grambling, ULL, Southern, Northwestern, Nichols and all the rest eventually succumb to the Republican/Koch Brothers/ALEC scheme to privatize all state universities?

We have seen in an incredibly short time how Piyush has gone from charter schools to vouchers and now to virtual, online schools and with a national push to “take the state out of state colleges,” it will be only a matter of time before we have virtual, online state universities—if indeed they can still be called “state” schools.

Think about it.

The marriage between virtual colleges and fantasy football will be a match made in sports hell.

First, the drastic drop in sales of barbeque grills, motor homes, ice chests and lawn chairs will be catastrophic to those particular industries. Massive layoffs will occur in not just those industries, but in the manufacturing and sale of stadium blankets, hip flasks, band uniforms and instruments, team jerseys and caps and sports equipment, including uniforms, pads, helmets and footballs.

And how many referees, trainers, sportswriters and ticket takers, will be thrown out of work in the process?

And just how do you think all those legislators are going to react to having to settle for virtual season tickets paid for with virtual campaign funds?

Think about the draconian loss of revenue to colleges in parking fees, ticket, concession and program sales. And how much is a virtual coach worth these days? Certainly nowhere the salaries of a Les Miles of Nick Saban. Those two alone account for the entire GNP of a half-dozen zip codes, not to mention their army of assistant coaches.

And what about the recent expansion to Tiger Stadium? Where will the money to pay for that little project come from? For that matter, what will they do with all those college stadia scattered across the state?

How much does a real Mike the Tiger fetch these days when there are virtual tigers all over the internet?

How many virtual ribs can you cook on a virtual grill in your den? Where are you going to park that virtual motor home for your virtual tailgate party, in your back yard? Nice.

And are you going to go bonkers when the virtual LSU band enters a virtual Tiger Stadium? What about when the virtual Les Miles leads his virtual team onto the field with his virtual white hat and his silly, but so enjoyable virtual hand clap? Will he eat virtual grass during the virtual game?

Can’t wait for the virtual awarding of the virtual Heisman. If only we’d had virtual football a little earlier, the virtual Honey Badger would have been a virtual shoo-in for the virtual award.

And segueing into basketball, a virtual LSU team will virtually crush all opposition, including the virtual championship-caliber teams of Kentucky and Florida.

And a virtual LSU baseball team will win the virtual College World Series every year at virtual Omaha.

And let’s not stop with college. Public schools, after all, are where the trend started so let’s return to our virtual origins.

West Monroe? Hah. A virtual Ruston Bearcat team can return to its 1980s glory days by teaching those virtual Rebs a virtual lesson in virtual fantasy football. Neville? Shoot, they’d just be virtual also-rans.

John Curtis, Evangel, Haynesville and Catholic High of Baton Rouge would continue, most likely in their roles as virtual perennial champions or, in the case of Catholic High, virtual contenders (always a virtual bridesmaid but never a virtual bride).

It just doesn’t get any better. No expensive concessions, no freezing cold, driving rain, horrendous traffic jams, obnoxious drunks, no staring into the sun during a day game if you sit in the east stands—just good, virtual football.

The downside of course, is no pretty cheerleaders and drum majorettes to gawk at, no tailgate parties with endless food and drink, no camaraderie with fellow fans. In short, no fun.

But let’s not stop there. After virtual schools and virtual colleges, the natural procession will be to virtual legislatures, virtual regulatory agencies and of course, virtual health care, virtual police and fire protection and virtual sewer services and virtual garbage pickup.

That, sadly, is the virtual reality of Piyush Jindal’s virtual world: a make believe society receiving virtual services in every sector of life with no camaraderie, no interaction—only obscene profits for the virtual providers.

But that’s the disconnected world in which our virtual governor now resides.

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“It’s important to be away from our building with the facilitator.”

–Melanie Amrhein, Executive Director of the Louisiana Office of Student Financial Assistance (LOSFA), justifying the expenditure of $3,500 for use of a private conference facility (SSA Consultants) and an SSA moderator/speaker for LOSFA management team’s annual Strategic Planning Session on the heels of the layoff of 58 agency employees because of budgetary cutbacks–despite the availability of sufficient state office space in several state office buildings in the Capitol Park complex in downtown Baton Rouge.

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A recent tour group happened by the Louisiana State Capitol in Baton Rouge recently. Wide-eyed and cameras at the ready, they made their way up the 50 steps, each given the name of one of the states. They entered the stately rotunda adorned with brass and a large round state seal embedded in the middle of the floor, complete with each of the state’s 64 parishes.

As their gaze took in the beauty of the magnificent structure, they noticed dozens of people scurrying about. Many of them, they noticed, were reading from a small book. The more adventurous of the tour group caught up with someone in a brown shirt and asked what he was reading but the brown shirt ignored him and walked away.

The tourist noticed a copy of the book on the floor. The title of the book was The Game Plan. He picked it up and sat down beneath a statue and began to read. The introduction explained that The Game Plan was simply an instruction manual for administration officials, from education to health care to legislative procedure and fund-raising.

“It is important to remember,” the introduction said, “that the successful appointed or elected official must be adept at saying one thing while meaning something else entirely.”

The tourist, intrigued, read on. He found the following examples in the book of what might be said, followed by what was actually meant:

• “Always refer to vouchers as ‘scholarships.” (In other words conflate the meaning of something given by the state with something earned by the student.);

• “Parents should have a choice about where they send their children. Children should not be trapped in a failing school.” (We do not, under any circumstances, discuss students trapped in poverty. What’s that got to do with education anyway? We must, by any method available, steer the conversation away from poverty.);

• “Characterize disastrous budget cuts as an ‘opportunity to transform.’” (We must condition the public to additional budget cuts as we continue to pass additional corporate tax breaks.);

• “Discuss privatizing public functions rather than profitizing private companies.” (We have campaign contributors who we must take care of.);

• “Describe dedicated state workers who provide essential public services as ‘government bureaucrats.’ (Exploit, at every opportunity, the public’s general distaste of the word bureaucrat.);

• “Unions want to maintain the status quo.” (It’s corporations that have the money for campaign contributions. See: Citizens United.);

• “Deliberately employ confusing statistics, contradictory statements and bureaucratic language.” (If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with B.S.);

• “Appeal to fear and security as reasons for radical actions.” (Can you say Joseph McCarthy, Richard Nixon and the House Unamerican Activities Committee?);

• “Be sure to repeat ‘Transparency and Accountability’ as often as possible.” (That way, no one will notice when you have secret ‘walking quorum’ BESE meetings to discuss what you plan to discuss in open meeting. But NEVER mention accountability when discussing vouchers or charter schools.);

• “The private sector is better equipped to provide vital services more efficiently.” (The sole purpose of government is to provide opportunities for corporate profits.);

• “Appointments will be based on what you know, not who you know.” (How much did he contribute to the campaign?);

• “The MFP is fully funded.” (The MFP means ‘More for Piyush.’);

• “I have the job I want.” (I won’t settle for anything less prestigious than emperor of the free world.)

The tour group was about to leave so the tourist had to put down the book. As he walked to rejoin his group, he looked back at the statue and saw that it was Republican Party strategist Frank Luntz and he was holding a copy of the book while blowing on a dog whistle. Timmy Teepell, with a sly grin on his face and an “OnMessage” sign hanging around his neck, was peeking from behind the statue.

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From the time when, as a 10-year-old growing up in Ruston, I first heard What it Was, Was Football on KRUS radio, to watching No Time for Sergeants at the dilapidated old Tech Theater to watching him as the sage sheriff-mentor Andy Taylor to Don Knotts’ bumbling Barney Fife, I have been—and will always be—a fan of Andy Griffith.

Griffith and Knotts are both gone now, as are George Lindsey (Goober), Frances Bavier (Aunt Bee), Hal Smith (Otis Campbell) Aneta Corsaut (Andy’s girlfriend and Opie’s teacher, Helen Crump), and Howard McNear (town barber Floyd Lawson) but the show will live on as long as people love good, clean, family-oriented comedy—story lines so simplistic in their approach to small town life that we all find ourselves wishing ourselves back to a time and place when people didn’t lock their doors and when it was safe for kids to walk down the street.

We all have our favorite episodes of The Andy Griffith Show, but how many of us can trace the show back to its origins? Well, we have Danny Thomas to thank for introducing Sheriff Andy Taylor into our living rooms.

Thomas, aka Danny Williams, is stopped by Sheriff/Justice of the Peace/Mayor Andy Taylor for running a stop sign in Mayberry and the confrontation between city slicker and country bumpkin takes a predictable comedic course of action, thus launching one of the most popular TV series of all time http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOFoeNU2rl0.

Twenty years or more ago I became the self-appointed president (and only member) of the Baton Rouge Lake Loons Chapter of The Andy Griffith Show Rerun Watchers Club (TAGSRWC). Yes, there really is such a club http://www.imayberry.com/ and it long ago went international with chapters in more countries than I can even begin to name. Griffith was a member as is Ron Howard (Opie). So is Betty Lynn (Barney’s girlfriend, Thelma Lou).

The Lake Loons chapter took its name from an episode in which Gomer Pyle (Jim Nabors) and Barney became lost during an outing in the woods. Andy hides and impersonates the call of a lake loon in able to allow Barney to save face and lead the pair back to the camp. Of course, it’s actually Andy who does the leading and Barney simply follows the call of the red-crested lake loon to safety.

My personal favorite, however, is the opening scene of an episode when Floyd and Andy are sitting outside the barbershop discussing the weather (it’s 92 degrees, Floyd tells Andy as he fans himself).

Andy: As Mark Twain said, everybody complains about the weather but nobody does anything about it.

Floyd: He said that?

Andy: Mm-huh.

Floyd: I thought Calvin Coolidge said that.

Andy: No, Floyd, Calvin Coolidge didn’t say that.

Floyd: What’d Calvin Coolidge say?

Andy: I don’t know.

Floyd: You sure Mark Twain didn’t get that from Calvin Coolidge? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T63JEY1Ui5Y

Nothing contrived, no forced lines, the entire conversation low key, but an exchange anyone who ever spent time in a country barbershop can relate to.

And of course there was the episode in which Opie brings a stray dog into the courthouse and before long the dog invites all his friends. Before Andy can turn around, the courthouse is overrun by dogs—just before a state inspector is due in town to evaluate Andy’s request for funding. Barney thinks he has solved the problem by taking all the dogs out to the countryside where he lets them out of the squad car.

But then a lightning storm erupts and Opie becomes concerned about the dogs, especially the smallest of the bunch, “a little trembly one.” Barney tries to allay Opie’s fears by explaining that lightning rarely strikes dogs because they are near the ground, not like giraffes, which are tall and really up there. Besides, he said, dogs take care of their own “and lightning don’t strike them cause they’re low to the ground…and they take care of their own…not like giraffes running around getting struck by lightning, always looking out for number one… Boy, oh boy, giraffes are selfish.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tVV-2tDu4l4

Andy Griffith died Tuesday, July 3 at the age of 86 in Dare County, NC. Frances Bavier was the same age when she died on Dec. 6, 1989, in Siler City, NC. Howard McNear passed away on Jan. 3, 1969 at the age of 63 following a series of strokes. Aneta Corsaut died on Nov. 6, 1995 at age 62. Don Knotts left us on Feb. 24, 2006 at age 81 and George “Goober” Lindsey died less than two months ago, on May 6 at 83.

Lindsey played Gomer’s cousin on the show and some fans, confused by the similarity of the characters’ names (Goober/Gomer) mistakenly believed it was Jim Nabors who had died but Nabors remains very much alive.

McNear actually had a couple of strokes before he left the show. The strokes left him unable to walk on his own or to use both arms, though he could still speak. He was off the show for more than a year but Griffith liked McNear and his character so much that he had the production company construct props to allow him to stand and to appear to be cutting hair and with the help of a little camera trickery, to seem to be walking around in one scene.

But what else would you expect Sheriff Andy Taylor to do? This was Mayberry, after all. And in Mayberry, neighbors help neighbors.

That was what endeared that show to each of us.

Giraffes may be selfish but the residents of Mayberry certainly were not.

Rest in peace, Andy, Barney, Aunt Bee, Otis, Floyd, Goober and Miss Crump.

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