Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Musings

Okay, has anybody else noticed lately the relationship between big huge sunglasses and really dumb bitches? Here in Florida, the relationship has been found to be this: the bigger the sunglasses, the dumber the bitch...

There’s a huge condo crash at the moment in Florida, so we’ve now got a whole load of carpetbaggers/transplants (i.e. New York greasebags, and some real one-percenters from Jersey--link NOT SAFE for work) who came here to get rich quick by investing hundreds of thousands of dollars in uncompleted condos, and who are now unable to hold on to their high-priced South Beach trophy slutbuckets because they can’t even afford to fill up their Hummers. Now, I’m no economist, but doesn’t it affect the rest of us, as it affects the wider economy, when tens of thousands of these bozos take out huge loans and then default en masse? But I’ll let one of these Einsteins defend himself:
"All my guys in New York were like, 'Yeah, flipping condos in Miami.' It was a sexy commodity, and it was fun to make money."
So I was up in Tennessee this past week visiting my sister while I had other family in town. I visited the local place of historical interest called the Carter House, a little inconspicuous vintage looking house on the main road in Franklin, TN. Turns out it was the epicenter of the Battle of Franklin: a five-hour long battle that constituted “the bloodiest few hours of the entire American Civil War,” and the death blow to one of the South’s two main Armies (six southern generals were killed there). The curator there gave an amazing tour and description of the events; one of those rare personalities with expertise and animation. There weren’t any of the surrounding houses back then, just surrounding. Now it’s just a two acre, non-federally owned property, and on top of the list of most endangered Civil War battle sites. One very interesting story, among about 10 others, from the tour: two officers, one from each side, had become engaged in a personal contest with each other for some reason (I cannot remember what the curator said was the reason). Unable to see amidst all the thick smoke, they were hunting each other. The southern officer then appeared from out of the smoke, shooting the federal officer in the chest with a revolver. The federal then ran the confederate through with a saber, mortally wounding him, but as he fell down to die, shot the federal officer in both kneecaps. The federal officer, having lived through it, became the father of the great WWII general Douglas MacArthur--just a hair’s difference then and there might have completely altered history. Strange that is.


Sean: Wow, I didn't know that about Macarthur. Great point about how history constantly hangs on a dime, TommAy. Just think if Peter Ivy had succeeded with cold fusion for the chemistry merit badge.

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