THE IDLE AMERICAN
Commentary by Dr. Don Newbury

Please settle in for a “Mother Hubbard” column. It, like some sermons, resembles a “Mother Hubbard dress,” covering everything but touching nothing.

There’ll be “hops, skips and jumps” on wide ranging topics. Initially is confusion abounding in the life of my ancient Uncle Mort. He claims to be prophetic in political races, but often lacking when it comes to grocery shopping.

He’s giddy about his “gift of prophecy,” but red-faced about a recent trip to purchase a bottle of “AI” sauce that “the world seems to be talking about.” You can guess the rest: He confused “A-1” (the sauce) with “AI,” (artificial intelligence).

Just as eyes and ears of the nation welcome the sudden stop of political ads, both in mass and social media, we can expect even more lawyers’ ads to remind us of their services. I prefer the lawyers who don’t scream, as well as assurance that no animals are harmed during filming of commercials.

Alas, a rash of screaming lawyers on TV ads will grate, and perhaps bore as well.

Most of them offer services to persons injured in wrecks, often 18-wheelers. Next thing we know, there’ll be training available for folks who hope to get major money for minor injuries sustained in car/truck crashes. (Lawyers, like Texas Aggies, are accustomed to being the object of jokes. One “oldie” suggests that graves for attorneys now are being dug 10 feet below ground level, because down deep they’re not bad.)

Mind-boggling in the aftermath of the most vicious state and national elections is the cost of advertising: $11 billion nationally and more than one billion in Texas alone.

Perhaps there is yet time to invest in the manufacture of rocking chairs, since numerous office holders expecting to return to their desks next year will not need them.

Coming to mind is a comment made by late President Lyndon B. Johnson when he left the oval office in 1969. He declared that the first year in retirement, he planned to sit in his rocking chair on the front porch of his Texas ranch, and if he enjoyed it, the second year he’d likely rock.

The Dallas Cowboys are taking it on the chin—again. All that pre-season chatter about their being GOAT (Greatest of all time) hasn’t been mentioned lately.

Their record to date, of course, suggestts that their “goat has been gotten.”

One wag says the Cowboys are no longer “America’s team,” and that if their downward spiral greatly resembles most of their teams across the past three decades, that perhaps a more accurate claim might be that they are their “North Dallas’ team.”

That they remain the most valuable sports venture world-wide at 17 billion dollars is unbelievable.

I don’t often drift into the “personal peeve” world, but this week will make exceptions. One concerns toothpicks. Some restaurants never have toothpicks, even if customers figure that surely some are stashed away. Late comedian Jerry Clower often spoke of his first-ever visit to a restaurant. Upon leaving, he saw a small glass bowl filled with toothpicks. He randomly took one, used it briefly, then replaced it in the bowl. “You probably thought I was going to leave here with a swiped toothpick,” he said to the cashier.

Patronizing a full-service car wash, I opted for the best “package,” requesting my tires’ inflation be checked. The attendant suggested that I visit a tire store, saying, “We don’t check tire pressure.” Huh?

Maybe they should consider purchasing an air tank in order to comply with such a simple request.

One query that I, and many others, wish could be eliminated from vocabularies is simply this: “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Usually, such inquiries result in “of-course-I-do” answers. Pastors and speakers in others fields typically cringe upon fielding such questions. A story goes that a minister, after preaching his final sermon, answered a man’s question thusly: “Everything about you is familiar except your name and your face.”

Toooo-shaaaay.

Dr. Newbury, retired educator, lives in the Metroplex. His website, with archived digital and verbal columns, is www.speakerdoc.com. Phone: 817-447-3872. Email: newbury@speakerdoc.com.