From Your Still-Worn-Out-from-After-Prom Publisher & Executive Editor:

Tomorrow, we Welchkins have a purely local election. We’ll vote on the $2.75 million bond issue to add classrooms, revamp the dining area, and implement utility upgrades at our school, and we’ll choose who will serve on our town council and as town clerk.

We’ve provided all the bond issue information provided by the school as well as an audio interview with Supt. Clark McKeon here. Here’s the sample ballot for the bond proposal.

Now, after digesting the information, how should we responsibly vote?

The bond issue increases taxes. I know, the usual line is that because the bond issue extends an existing tax it doesn’t really raise taxes, but I don’t buy that argument. If we approve the bond issue, it will keep an existing tax from expiring. In my book, stopping a tax reduction is a tax increase.The bottom line is this: if the bond issue fails, the millage rate will drop when the bonds for the new gym all mature. If we approve the bond issue, the millage rate will remain fairly steady for an additional 16 years. We just need to accept that fact that the bond package before us is costly. The real question we must answer is whether the cost is worth it.

I have made it clear before that my default position on tax increases is no. That means I start out a no, and if and when those seeking the tax increase convince me that it’s for all our better good to approve a tax increase, then I’ll support it. In the most recent vote on the Craig County Community Center, I was never (and am still not) convinced it was a good idea, so I did not support it.

In the case before us now, I am persuaded that the improvements to our school are necessary and wise. The reason I’m such a stickler on the language as to whether it’s “not a tax increase” is this: we need to realize that there is a cost associated with the improvements and that the cost is worth it.

The notion that we can do large capital improvements without it costing us is dangerous. You may be tempted to believe that when property taxes are increased, only property owners pay the price. Many a tax increase has been thrust upon property owners by non-property owners in the misguided notion that those who don’t own land are getting a free ride. Property owners do bear the immediate cost of an increase; however, those increases must be recouped. If you rent, property tax increases get passed on into your rental price. Whatever is produced on land—be it cattle, crops, or cookies—will have its price inflated to absorb the price of taxes. The bottom line is this: tax increases affect everyone, whether they own property or not.

Taxing people should only be done for vital projects, and I cannot think of anything more vital to our community and school than the proposed improvements. The time has come for us to do away with the “temporary, portable” classrooms that house our youngest students. It’s time to implement a middle school. It’s time to make upgrades that will save on utility costs. It’s time to provide adequate learning space for our students and teachers. It’s time to bring the dining facilities up to date. In short, it’s time to make this large investment.

The proposed improvements to our school are not luxuries. They are necessary now, and they will grow even more necessary into the future.

So, when you mark your ballots tomorrow, I hope you’ll join me in voting yes on the bond issue before us.

Also on the ballot are elected town positions. Last year, we voted to expand our town council from three to five persons. Maxine “Shorty” Highsmith and Shannon Biggs ran unopposed for two seats, and will win by default. Tomorrow, voters will vote to fill two remaining seats for which there are three candidates. The top two vote-getters from among Edith Fox, Winston McKeon (the incumbent), and Henry Flanders will win a four-year term on the council. The position of town clerk is also up for election. Voters will select between Kenni Morton and Barry F. Oliver (the incumbent) for the unexpired town clerk term. Here’s the sample ballot for town officials.

I’m not making endorsements in these races. I will, however, share some of the thinking that goes through my mind as I weigh the choices before me. First and foremost, I want a sense that those for whom I vote are genuinely interested in our community and its progress. I want responsible persons who will give their best efforts to see that our town functions properly, openly, and efficiently. I’m not impressed by candidates who take a “what was wrong with the way things used to be?” mindset. Secondly, I want workers—both mentally and physically. Council members aren’t magic. They don’t just get to vote and all our problems fade away. The issues facing even our small town are often quite complex, and I want representatives who will do the hard thinking and the hard work necessary to find the best—not necessarily the easiest—solutions. Lastly, I want persons of character. I want council members who give us their best efforts, but I also recognize that councilors are both human and volunteers. Humans will make mistakes, and I am impressed by those who own up to their mistakes and look for ways to correct their errors. Volunteers can’t be expected to turn over every waking moment to town matters; therefore, I am impressed by persons who handle town business in an organized and efficient manner.

These are just a few things I’ll be thinking about as I vote tomorrow. Polls are open from 7:00 a.m.-7:00 p.m. If you’ve taken a few minutes to acquaint yourself with the issues and candidates before us, I hope you’ll go vote, too.

Ed.

From the Redneck Diva:

I’m trying to remember the first dining room table we owned as a couple. My husband lived alone for 12 years prior to our marriage, but he lived in a bachelor cabin and his table was an awful, metal-legged, Formica-topped, probably-rescued-from-the-dump piece of furniture. It went nicely with the gigantic wire spool he used as an end table in the living room. No, I’m not even kidding.

When we moved into our first house together, there was a table already there, so that’s what we used. It wasn’t until we moved into an apartment in town that we bought a table that was ours. To be honest, I don’t remember what it looked like. It was probably the wooden cousin of Paul’s previous metal-legged, rescued-from-the-dump table. However, I do remember sitting at it with an insurance agent when we bought our first life insurance policy. We ate many a plate of Hamburger Helper at that table. It was on that table that my repentant husband set the first and only dozen roses he ever gave me after a fight that prompted me to pack a bag and declare I was going back to my mother. I have no idea what we did with that table. It probably ended up in a garage sale. Or the dump where it had previously been headed before its brief sojourn at our place.

It wasn’t until we had our first child that we got a real table. It was a used table, but it was a grown-up table. It was the table that had been in my mom and father’s house when I was growing up. It was understated, definitely nothing fancy. Most of the time it was round until Mom sent Sis and I back to drag a leaf or two from under my bed when we were expecting company. It was wooden with a wood-grain Formica top so it was safe to set a sweaty glass on, color on (with markers!), slide the salt shaker across trying to imitate the bartender in the Western we’d just seen who had sent a mug of beer sailing down to a thirsty cowboy, and it was where the portable typewriter sat when it was time to write a report for school. It was a sturdy, virtually indestructible table, and it was perfect for our little family. It was the table where we set Abby to open presents during her first birthday party. It was the table where my daycare babies ate macaroni and cheese and peanut butter and jelly and colored countless pictures. It was where I balanced our checkbook—or at least tried to balance a checkbook that stayed perilously close to “in the red” in those early days. It was where a group of my friends sat and laughed while we painted sweatshirts, made soap, and crafted handmade Christmas ornaments the year we all desperately needed to find ourselves again when we all had toddlers and young-married stress.

When we moved into the house we live in now, the table came with us. It was the table I set Sam on when I was doctoring a scraped up knee. It was where I set Kady’s car seat while she snoozed and I cleaned the kitchen. It was occasionally draped in quilts and magically transformed into a cave for my kids’ imaginative pleasure. It was the table where I one day found my barely one-year-old youngest child standing proudly after she had fashioned a set of steps out of a box, the step-stool, and a chair and practiced being a mountain goat.

Eventually the legs got wobbly, and we decided to send the table back to Mom.

The next table at our house was a small butcher-block topped table. I think they call them farmhouse tables. It was abused as only a family with three small children, a Brownie troop who sold 47,000,000 boxes of cookies, and who-knows-how-many birthday parties can do. The top was water-stained and had crayon marks galore. It had nicks and dents, and the legs had boot scuffs from our son’s stint as a budding cowboy. It was eventually sold in a garage sale.

Then we bought a table from one of Mom’s friends. The top resembled paneling—as in, there were grooves running from one end to the other. It made for holes in papers, crumbs that would stick and stay and it was so gigantic I felt like we were preparing for the Last Supper every time I set it. I’m pretty sure we all gained weight while we owned that table because I was compelled to fill it with food, and the area was so spacious. We didn’t have that one long—my husband started threatening to fill those grooves with Gorilla glue.

The table we have now is a special table. It was actually used as a desk in one of the mines in Picher and weighs approximately 90,000 pounds. Seriously, it took five people to move it into my dining room and we all needed chiropractic intervention afterward. It is a furniture force to be reckoned with. I don’t dare attempt to move it when I mop. I just mop around it. Wait. I don’t mop. But if I did, I wouldn’t attempt to move it. Not only did the table come from the mines in the town where I spent many a day as a child, but it was also my Papa and Memaw’s table from the farm up the road where I grew up. I ate many a slice of butter bread (Roman Meal bread with hard squares of real butter laid on it because you couldn’t attempt to spread that stuff) at that table . I spilled Ovaltine on it on a weekly basis. I sat there and colored or played with my Colorforms while Mom did Papa’s laundry or took care of Memaw when she was sick. My cousins and I played Old Maid at that table. I would sit at the far end and gaze out the window at the cows or the garden or Papa on the tractor. I ate many meals with my Papa at that table, him quietly listening to me rattle on about nothing in particular, nodding or grunting when he felt I needed a response. Memaw’s oatmeal cookies tasted better at that table.

Now the table sits in my dining room, covered in a red tablecloth. Nightly my family of five gathers around it for dinner. It’s the table where I first heard my husband pray and ask the blessing for our meal. I have painted our daughters’ fingernails there, decorated Valentine’s boxes, helped our oldest with Algebra, practiced the third-grader’s spelling words. I gave the puberty talk to my two youngest at that table. We played a game of Spoons there once that resulted in property damage, bloodshed, and much, much laughter. At Thanksgiving and Christmas it is covered from end to end with food. The groceries are dumped there after a trip to Walmart. I eat there. I pay bills there. I counsel there. I pray there.

We’ve gone through many pieces of dining room furniture over the past 18 years, but one thing has stayed the same regardless of the size, the condition, the color, or the shape—the fact that we are a family. The dining room table is the hub of our home. We use it for gathering, for discussing, nourishing, loving, laughing and being who we are. I doubt we ever get a different table than the one we have now. For one thing, it’s too heavy to move again and has probably settled into the very foundation, but in all honesty, the one we have is perfect. It’s old, weathered, nicked, and dented, but oh, the memories housed in that giant piece of wood.

Diva

Kristin Hoover is the Redneck Diva. A local blogger and stay-at-home mom, Kristin has won Okie Blog Awards for her humorous take on the rural life of a natural-born diva who married a redneck and produced three offspring. Visit her online at http://www.theredneckdiva.com.

From Your Bumfuzzled Publisher & Executive Editor:

In the wake of the Arizona shooting, much political hay has been made as person after person has sought to point the finger of blame somewhere. Before the shooter had been identified, commentators and political operatives ran to their keyboards, mics, and cameras to start boldly stating why the tragedy happened. In a relative instant, talking heads and self-appointed pundits let loose a barrage of accusations every bit as careless, misdirected, and irresponsible and Jared Loughner’s bullets.

Specifically, a great to-do has been made of a map, supposedly flush with cross-hairs, released by Sarah Palin’s political action committee. Palin-haters jumped at the opportunity to indict a person they already despise for inciting a shooter to fulfill her supposed secret desire of violence against those with whom she differs politically. Though the Palin camp has credibly demonstrated that the “cross-hairs” in question are, in fact, surveyor’s marks (right at home on a map), there are those who—some out of their own ignorance—refuse to relent because deep in their hearts they want Sarah Palin to be a murderous wretch; it makes her so much more defeat-able.

The counter for this idiocy, thus far, has been to point out that Democrat campaigns and committees have released maps with bulls-eyes on them and that politicians, especially President Obama, have used language referencing knives, guns, fighting, etc. This has served to illustrate something that needs to be said expressly.

There’s a sick irony in that those who want to blame harsh political conversation for the Arizona shooting have done nothing but converse harshly and politically.

And I say this as one not opposed to political debate. It’s politics. It gets rowdy sometimes. That’s the nature of the beast. What I find unfathomable is that those who are most “offended” by the harshness of someone, say Sarah Palin, are the most offensive in their uninformed and malicious finger pointing and false accusations.

The bottom line is that in language, even political language, words mean things, and often they mean more than what they say. I deal with this in the spiritual realm, where I often encounter persons who miss the point of Scripture because they overemphasize the “literal” words on the page. The Bible is literature of varying genres, and as such it should be interpreted as literature. That means that sometimes we take what we see literally. That also means that sometimes we take what we see metaphorically. Our language, including charts or maps, is full of idioms and symbols that must be taken as such—comprehending what they mean rather than what they say. It really isn’t all that hard.

No sane, honest person believes that Sarah Palin wants anyone to take up guns against Congresspersons, even if those map symbols are cross-hairs (if they truly did, they would have moved heaven and earth to secure the other Congresspersons “targeted” by Palin). No sane, honest person believes that Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee wants anyone to take up bows and arrows against Congresspersons, even though their map had bulls-eyes on it. No sane, honest person believes that Barack Obama wants anyone to bring a gun to a knife fight. All this just as no sane, honest person believes they might step in a poodle when it’s “raining cats and dogs.”

We understand that language is full of idioms. We understand that what people mean often goes far beyond what they say. In short, we’re adults. Let’s start acting like it. The hypocrisy and feigned “shock” by those who can’t wait to say something shocking themselves are not lost on me.

No, folks, a lone and apparently mentally disturbed gunman perpetrated this evil. He bears the responsibility for it and will stand before his God and his government to give account. May God have mercy on his soul.

Ed.

From the Redneck Diva:

Today I made one of those rare trips to town by myself. Usually I have a kid or four in tow or at least a husband, but today’s trip was a solitary one. I have been on the puny side and didn’t really feel like going to town, but our pantry was down to canned corn, peas, some brown sugar and cinnamon Poptarts no one in the house will eat, a few packets of oatmeal, and six packages of Ramen noodles. We were even out of crackers. My trip was not a leisurely shopping excursion but a mission for nutrition.

Here we are recently past Thanksgiving, and I’ve been feeling especially blessed. Thanks to the kindness of an anonymous person I have four brand new tires on my van. The Christmas we thought was on the verge of not happening is shaping up to be the most blessed one yet. I have found two women who have ministered to me and prayed with and for me in the past few weeks, helping me see I am not alone, I am important, and there is a plan for my life. God is blessing my family in ways that continue to amaze me, and—believe it or not—have left me speechless many times lately. My husband is still in awe that I can actually be struck speechless. In 18 years he’d never seen it.

This perpetual feeling of happiness has been with me for weeks now, even in the midst of a blowout on the turnpike, hay that no one will buy, and sickness. Today was no exception. Even though I really wanted to be curled up on the couch, getting reacquainted with my DVR, I was happy that I was well enough to drive to town on those four new tires, in a van that may not be the fanciest but gets me where I’m going. I had money—granted, not a lot—in the checkbook and well, doggonit, I was just happy. I was merrily hefting two gallons of milk into my cart when I realized I had parked it right in a gentleman’s way. I quickly moved it, apologized, and smiled. He looked at me grumpily and mumbled, “No problem.” Undaunted by the Scrooge at the milk cooler, I moved on to the butter where I randomly asked a man how he was today. He literally blinked twice before he broke into a grin and said, “Honey, I am doing just fine. I’m walking, aren’t I?” I agreed that walking was a pretty good indicator of wellness. Then I moved on to the chips. I plopped my selection into my cart and started to move on when I saw an elderly woman on a motorized cart, looking up at a shelf she obviously could not reach. I left my cart, walked to her, and bending over to her level asked, “Is there something I can help you with, ma’am?” The look of absolute relief that spread across her precious wrinkled face just lit her up. Her voice was very quiet, either from age or illness, and I leaned closer to her to hear her speak. She smelled like a grandma, kind of like powder and vanilla. She whispered, “I need Cheetos. Two bags please.” I reached up where she couldn’t, placed the two bags of cheesy delightfulness in her cart and said, “There you go, dear.” She whispered a thanks and smiled a smile that just gave me goose bumps. She was truly thankful.

I went back to my cart and started down the aisle, but was stopped by another elderly woman who put her hand on my arm and with the other, pointed at the woman on the cart. Her voice full of emotion, she said, “That. That right there. More people need to do that. Your momma taught you right. That’s how all mommas should teach their children. You hardly ever see that anymore. Thank you.” I smiled, patted her hand, and said, “You’re very right. My momma taught me to respect and care. I hope I’m teaching my kids the same thing.” She gave me a squeeze and said, “Darling, I’d just about bet you are.”

As I continued on through the store it hit me just how rare random acts of kindness are. There was an uprising of them back in the ’90s, if you remember. There were billboards, bumper stickers, and PSAs admonishing us all just to be kind without being prompted, without reason, and with genuine care. How sad we needed a publicity push to make us do the things we should do without even thinking. I am not saying I’m a saint; I get caught up in my own world just as much as anyone else, but I try very hard to reach out to people in need—needs big or small, monumental or seemingly inconsequential. They don’t have to be big ticket things like giving someone hundreds of dollars, filling their car with gas, buying their cart full of groceries, or purchasing a set of tires for someone who just can’t afford them right now. Yes, those are indeed noble and kind, but kindness can be as simple as taking a casserole to the exhausted young couple with four small kids so the wife doesn’t have to worry with dinner that night. Or buying your mom’s favorite gum for her and just dropping it in her purse for her to find one of these days. It can be paying the toll for the car behind you at the turnpike gate—or putting a couple of bags of Cheetos into a stranger’s cart in the chip aisle at Walmart.

Few things make me happier than seeing my own children do simple acts of respect and genuine care and concern for someone. My daughter picked up a cup that missed the trashcan the other day. I didn’t tell her to, she probably didn’t know anyone was watching, but she did it anyway. It was a small action, requiring very little effort on her part, but to the older gentleman who had missed the trashcan it meant he didn’t have to bend over to pick it up. My son has carried in groceries for his grandmothers without my husband or me prompting him. My oldest daughter is making hair bows for the girls at the Baptist Children’s Home in Owasso. I am so proud that my children are compassionate and giving. All three of them have commented at how good it makes them feel to do things for others. These small, selfless acts may not change the world—but then again . . . maybe they will.

What if we all did for someone else every day? Would we change the world? Would we at least change our neighborhoods, communities, and most importantly ourselves?

Here’s hoping.

Diva

Kristin Hoover is the Redneck Diva. A local blogger and stay-at-home mom, Kristin has won Okie Blog Awards for her humorous take on the rural life of a natural-born diva who married a redneck and produced three offspring. Visit her online at http://www.theredneckdiva.com and http://therhok.com.

WELCH—It’s election day! Many people have been eagerly waiting for the opportunities this day offers. Polls are open statewide from 7 a.m.-7 p.m. We’ll try to provide a recap here as soon as Welch’s polling place posts results.

As a reminder, here are our endorsements for the ballot you will see in Welch.

Governor: Mary Fallin

Lt. Governor: Todd Lamb

State Auditor & Inspector: Gary Jones

Attorney General: Scott Pruitt

State Treasurer: Ken Miller

Superintendent of Public Instruction: Janet Barresi

Commissioner of Labor: Mark Costello

Insurance Commissioner: John Doak

U.S. Senator: Tom Coburn

US. Representative: Charles Thompson

Judicial Retention:

Steven W. Taylor: No

James R. Winchester: No

Deborah B. Barnes: No

Doug Gabbard II: No

John F. Fischer: No

Larry E. Joplin: No

State Question 744: NO (A thousand times NO!)

State Question 746: YES

State Question 747: YES

State Question 748: YES

State Question 750: YES

State Question 751: YES

State Question 752: YES

State Question 754: YES (But we can understand a NO)

State Question 755: YES

State Question 756: YES

State Question 757: Yes

From Your Plumb Worn-Out Publisher and Executive Editor:

Radio Shack used to use the slogan, “You’ve Got Questions, We’ve Got Answers.” I’ve felt like Radio Shack lately because folks have been asking about the eleven state questions on tomorrow’s ballot. I appreciate people valuing my opinion, so I decided I’d do a quick run down for you here. This is later than I had hoped to get it posted, but I hope you find it useful. Rather than take lots of time and space to lay every aspect of each question out for you in a separate post, we’re providing one post with our endorsements and a brief statement of why. (As for our recommendations on the candidates, we’re endorsing Republicans in every race; and we recommend voting no on each judicial retention question). Also, some hold the belief that you need to vote no on all state questions. That’s not the case. You need to read them carefully and (thanks to the out-of-control, power-abusing attorney general, Drew Edmondson) know the information beyond the ballot language to make an informed decision. We hope this helps.

State Question 744 (aka the HOPE Petition)

This is the 800-lb. elephant in the room. If passed, this would require K-12 education spending in Oklahoma to be funded at a level equal with the average of K-12 education spending in our six surrounding states, which would require an increase in education spending in Oklahoma. Estimates put this increase in spending at anywhere from $850 Million to $1.4 Billion. That’s a lot of dough, and it MUST be spent if 744 passes. If it must be spent, it must come from somewhere, which means taxes MUST be increased or other parts of the state budget MUST be slashed to fund it. And by slashed, we’re talking cut by 20%. The decision on 744 boils down to this: Is education spending important? Yes. Is it the most important thing the state does? No.

Further, empirical evidence shows that increased education spending does not necessarily result in better public education. I support public education, and we have a great school system in Welch. And sure, I’d like to see them have the money to do everything they want. But, if it comes at a cost of cutting the Department of Corrections budget by 1/5 (possibly resulting in releasing inmates) and cutting the Department of Transportation budget by 1/5 (goodbye road and bridge repair), it’s just not worth it.

If you want to improve public education in Oklahoma (and in Welch), the best thing you can do is elect good state legislators (and hold them accountable for their decisions), elect Janet Barresi superintendent of public instruction, and get involved in local groups, like the Welch Public Schools Enrichment Foundation, that make sure improvements end up in the classroom, unlike 744, which has no similar guarantee. 744 is so bad, in fact, that whoever you support for governor, Jari Askins or Mary Fallin, oppose it, as do Brad Henry and Drew Edmonsdon and most state newspapers. In fact, you have to look long and hard before you find anyone other than the most liberal among us and those affiliated with the Oklahoma Education Association who do support 744. A vote for 744 is a vote to cripple the state, and could quite literally send this state into bankruptcy. A vote against 744 is a vote to require the legislature to use their authority to fund education in Oklahoma and hold them accountable for how they do so. Vote no on 744.

No on 744 Website
List of news about and those opposed to 744
Janet Barresi for State Supt.

State Question 746 (aka Positive Identification Required to Vote)

This is a no-brainer. If passed, 746 would require persons to provide identification, either by photo ID or voter ID card, when seeking to vote. The only reason one can fathom for people to oppose this proposal is that they have some sort of voter fraud in mind. Vote yes on 746.

State Question 747 (aka Term Limits for Statewide Office)

Another no-brainer. I used to buy into the notion that term limits should be at the full control of the voters and the ballot box, but the benefits of incumbency (i.e., already holding an office makes one almost immune to electoral challenge) have changed my mind. This would limit the offices of governor, lieutenant governor, attorney general, state treasurer, labor commissioner, state auditor and inspector, superintendent of public instruction, and state insurance commissioner to eight years. Service as corporation commissioner would be limited to twelve years. In a perfect world, one would like to believe we could find self-less good persons who might spend a lifetime of dedicated service to the state in one position. The reality is that this rarely happens, and when a person can be reelected indefinitely, it seems to make officeholders more concerned with holding office than with serving the citizens. Vote yes on 747.

State Question 748 (aka Reconstituting Apportionment Commission)

The federal government conducts a census every ten years, and in response to each census the state must reapportion districts for the legislature. The legislature is tasked with this, but if it fails to do so (i.e., is deadlocked), an apportionment commission does it. Currently, the apportion commission is made up of three persons: the state attorney general, the state superintendent of public instruction, and the state treasurer. This formula means that the apportionment commission could potentially consist of members from one political party. If 748 passes, it would remove all three current members of the commission and increase the commission from three to seven members. The new members would consist of one Democrat and one Republican appointed by the President Pro Tempore of the State Senate, one Democrat and one Republican appointed by the Speak of the State House, and one Democrat and one Republican appointed by the Governor. The seventh member would be the Lt. Governor, who would serve as a non-voting chairman of the commission. This new formulation will be more even-handed and ensure a more fair apportionment. Vote yes on 748.

State Question 750 (aka Ballot Access Calculated on Gubernatorial Elections)

Oklahomans have the opportunity to propose laws, offer amendments to the state constitution, and reject laws passed by the legislature. This is done by circulating petitions, which must meet a certain number requirement, which is based on a certain percentage of the last general election. When the last general election is one which included a presidential election, it will require many more signatures than when the last general election didn’t include a presidential election. 750 will level the playing field for those seeking ballot access by looking only at every other last general election, those which include gubernatorial races (which are staggered with presidential elections). This does not change the percentage needed; it simple requires the same percentage of elections when fewer persons usually cast votes, thus reducing the overall number of signatures needed to access the ballot. It’s a good change. Vote yes on 750.

State Question 751 (aka English as Official Language)

This would simply make English the official language of official state business, thus avoiding the cost and confusion of doing state business in multiple languages. It also has the benefit of bonding Oklahomans by a common language. Vote yes on 751.

State Question 752 (aka Judicial Nominating Commission Reformulation)

The Judicial Nominating Commission selects three or four qualified persons to be nominated when judicial vacancies occur and the governor must then appoint one of the nominees. 752 would add two at-large members, who may come from any congressional district, to the commission. One of these new members would be appointed by the State Senate President Pre Tempore, and the other would be appointed by the Speaker of the Oklahoma House. At-large members cannot be lawyers, nor may they have an attorney in their immediate family. No more than two at-large members can be from the same political party. All in all, this is a good change that should help ensure fairness in the judicial nomination process. Vote yes on 752.

State Question 754 (aka No Spending Formulas)

This has been the most difficult state question to form an opinion on. It is designed to be a fail-safe in case 744 passes. This measure change the state constitution so that it could not require the legislature to fund state functions based on predetermined constitutional formulas, how much other states spend on a function, or how much any entity spends on a function. So far, so good. I can live with all of that (as I believe it’s the job of the elected legislators to hammer out the budget based on revenue). But the sticky part is in the rest of the question. According to the ballot language, written by Attorney General Drew Edmondson, the measure, if passed, could never be amended or rescinded. I don’t like the idea of that. The people ought to have a means for changing their collective mind. If we pass this and it works, great! If we pass this and it has problems we haven’t anticipated, we need to be able to undo it. But this is further complicated by the fact that it appears that Edmondson may have been editorializing a bit when he added that part about not being able to amend or rescind it. Michael Bates of Batesline has done some excellent analysis on this, so I won’t rehash it here. Go read Michael’s take and make up your own mind. For now, we’ll say our inclination is to vote yes on 754.

State Question 755 (aka No international or Sharia Law in Oklahoma Courts)

This simply bans Oklahoma judges in Oklahoma courts from relying on (considering or using) either international law or Sharia (Islamic law based on the Koran and the teaching of Mohammed). 755 requires Oklahoma courts and judges to rely on only state and federal law in rendering its decisions. You might appreciate Michael Bates’ analysis on this issue. Vote yes on 755.

State Question 756 (aka Obamacare Opt-Out)

The US Congress passed Obamacare in spite of vast disapproval by the people. Much of the sentiment against Washington, the president, and the congress we’re seeing this election is due to its ignoring pr the people’s wishes in regards to universal healthcare. Obamacare will raise taxes and will raise the cost of healthcare, while resulting in rationed and lower quality care. 756 opts Oklahoma out of the federal healthcare bill, though it again appears that Drew Edmondson did a bit of editorializing in the ballot language, saying it wouldn’t apply to laws or rules in effect before January 10, 2010, and that federal law would overrule because of the “supremacy clause” in the US Constitution. He fails to mention that there’s also a Tenth Amendment to the US Constitution. (Let’s be honest folks, we should be so thrilled that Drew Edmondson is out of public “service”). The best bet is to pass 756 and elect Scott Pruitt attorney general, so he can do the legal work to enforce the will of Oklahomans to opt out of Obamacare. Vote yes on 756.

State Question 757 (aka Increasing Rainy Day Percentage)

When Oklahoma has a surplus of revenue (i.e., when the legislature doesn’t spend every dime that comes in) the state constitution requires that 10% of the surplus go to the Constitutional Reserve Fund (i.e., rainy day fund). If 757 passes, it would change that percentage from 10% to 15%. Strangely, I’m hearing opposition to this state question from folks I never thought I would because of what the rainy day fund has been spent on. But let’s think about this a second. Currently, when there’s a surplus, the legislature can spend 90% (because 10% goes to rainy day). 757 would limit them to spending (read: wasting) only 85% of the surplus (because 15% would go to rainy day). Frankly, I’m in favor of reducing how much they can fritter away at the beginning. If we don’t like how the rainy day fund has been spent, we need to hold the legislators responsible (i.e., fire them) and/or pass provisions as to just how the rainy day fund can be spent. The answer is not to reject 757. 757 makes good fiscal sense, and hoping we one day have state surpluses, we’ll be wise to require a larger portion go to rainy day. Vote yes on 757.

Above all, educate yourself, and once you have done so, go vote on the government you will have to endure.

From Your Election-Minded Publisher & Executive Editor:

Next Tuesday the polls will be open so that citizens can have their say as to the governance they must endure. It’s a privilege to vote, and we should responsibly walk into the voting booth and mark our ballots. While there are typically turn-out-the-vote campaigns, I’m not convinced that every eligible voter should vote. Voters should be informed about the candidates and issues before they make their voices heard.

And this is a very good year to get informed about the issues because, in addition to a full ballot of state and federal candidates for office, Oklahomans will decide eleven state questions. That’s right, the entire back of your ballot is completely full of ideas, notions, and schemes that the people have the last and final say on. And it’s a darn good thing, because there are some doozies.

It’s no secret that I’m a conservative; therefore, I favor conservative candidates (which usually means I support Republicans). The Republican party seemed to lose its way there for a while and it paid a price for that, ultimately resulting in the nomination of the lackluster John McCain for president and the resultant loss to Mr. Hope & Change himself, Barack Obama, aka Jimmy Carter’s long-lost and more liberal twin.

Since Obama’s election almost everything I and my ilk claimed would happen (and worse) has occurred. The backlash to the vehement liberal agenda has resulted in a refreshing uprising of conservatism, due in large part to the almost spontaneous combustion known as tea parties. Regular, plain ole Americans (of many parties and no party at all) just got sick and tired of a government being out of control, so they gathered in parks and on courthouse lawns to make their voices heard. They were mocked, maligned, and misquoted, but they refused to yield. Their momentum has hit full stride and both parties (read: both parties’ establishments) have taken notice. But never, ever forget that the party establishment was scared of Reagan, too.

So it’s that time. If you’ve had it with an out-of-control and non-responsive government, here’s your chance to weigh in and say enough is enough.

But, you might say, we’re from Oklahoma, the reddest of the red states. In fact, every county in Oklahoma went Republican in the last presidential election, even though our candidate was a dog. You’d be right. But elections aren’t all about who’s president (and we’re not electing a president this time, anyway). The race I really want to direct your attention to is Oklahoma’s second congressional district.

The incumbent, Dan Boren, is heir to the political dynasty of his dad, O.U. President David Boren, and his grandfather, Lyle Boren, who was a Congressman for a decade. It would be naïve to pretend that politicking isn’t in Dan Boren’s blood. Boren has been our congressman for three terms, following on the heels of that other Democrat “genius,” Brad Carson.

So what’s the problem with Boren? We all know he’s got a good rating from the NRA on Second Amendment issues (how could you not, when it’s what he seems to advertise about most?). Let’s face it, though, no one—Democrat or otherwise—stands a snowball’s chance in July of holding political office in Oklahoma if he or she isn’t pro-gun. But what else do we know about Dan Boren? In fairness, here’s one you may not know. He’s a co-sponsor of the Fair Tax. In fact, at one time he was the only Democrat co-sponsor of the bill (and for all I know, he still is). I have previously publicly lauded him for this fact. But there’s not much else I can think of in Boren’s positive column.

On the other hand, Boren has some very, very strong negatives. Primary among them, he casts his vote for Nancy Pelosi as speaker of the house. He’s been questioned about this vote, and his response is that Pelosi is the only Democrat running for speaker. So what? Which would be wiser for a man supposedly representing the interests of voters on Oklahoma’s second district: voting for Pelosi because she’s the only Democrat running or breaking ranks with your party and voting for the Republican speaker nominee because he or she is more in line with the values of those in your district (and those which your campaign ads claim you also hold)? But he just can’t break with his party. It would cost him too much.

And so, to be clear, a vote for Dan Boren is a vote to keep the Democrat leadership that daily subverts both the will and the interests of the people. Most Oklahoma Democrats I know have very little in common with Democrats in the national party, but if you send Boren back to Congress, those national Democrats are precisely who he votes to have the reins in Congress.

Let’s jump to a very recent recent example of Boren’s disconnect with those he supposedly represents. When the Bush tax cuts were made law, they included an expiration date. It was a concession that was made to get them passed. Well, time is tick-tick-ticking away, and those tax cuts are set to expire at the end of 2010. What that means is that the largest tax increases in American history are set to automatically kick in on Jan. 1, 2011, unless something is done to extend (or better yet, make permanent) the Bush tax cuts.

Without a doubt, tax increases are the absolute worst thing that could happen to our stagnant economy with high unemployment rates. The combination of the new Obamacare taxes plus the expiration of the Bush tax cuts could very likely send our economy into a harsh recession, if not a full-fledged depression (welcome back, Carter, as the t-shirt says).

Thankfully, there was a plan to begin the process of extending those Bush tax cuts. Unfortunately, before Congress could deal with the issue, as it should have, there was a motion to adjourn and a vote on it. And, unfortunately, the motion to adjourn passed by a single vote. Yes, friends, it was one single vote that decided to adjourn the Congress (so they could get home and campaign) rather than debate and vote to stop this massive tax increase. Too bad that one vote belonged to our Congressman, Dan Boren. With friends like this, who needs enemies? (To read more about the problems with Boren, scroll to the bottom of this post and follow the links to two posts from Michael Bates. You’ll be glad you did.)

And here’s the good news, folks: we have an option. You may not have heard much about him because he does not have the built-in political machine Dan Boren does, but I bet you have seen his signs. Charles Thompson, a double vet (U.S. Army retiree and doctor of veterinary medicine), is running to be our Congressman. If you read his bio, I think you’ll find he sounds an awful lot like just who we’d like representing our interests in Washington, DC, as opposed to Dan Boren, who votes with the Nancy Pelosi agenda about 90% of the time.

And so, when you go to vote next Tuesday, help me in saying buh-bye to Boren. If you vote for Dan Boren, you’re also voting for Nancy Pelosi and her ilk, and frankly, we have no one to blame for the fact that our representative in Washington represents very little of who and what we are. Let’s turn out for Thompson and do our part to help get American back on track. At least I’m certain that Charles Thompson will never be the deciding vote to adjourn Congress instead of debating tax cuts. I guarantee it.

Ed.

Michael Bates on washing Dan Boren out of office

Michael Bates on Boren pulling the mask off

Charles Thompson’s Website

Charles Thompson on Facebook

From the Redneck Diva:

For as long as there have been people, there has been news. It probably started when Og thumped his saber-toothed tiger bone on the cave wall to alert the tribe his wife had just had their first boy-child. Then he graffiti’d up his cave walls to tell future generations. It progressed to squires dashing across the countryside to alert the neighboring village of a dragon attack. Then years later came the Pony Express where brave men on strong horses galloped through the prairies to deliver the news of stage coach robberies, train robberies, and bank robberies. Eventually came the invention of the telegraph. Then the telephone. Then television. (This is where the oldsters would add “and tell-a-woman!” then slap their knee.) And the finally the Internet.

Unlike our ancestors we don’t have to wait for ponies or pigeons or smoke signals. We just log on, sign in, and boom! we’re connected to a virtually endless source of information and news.

But is it too much?

I have written before about my addictions to Twitter and Facebook and how I have deep meaningful relationships with most of my electronics. But sometimes even I wonder if I’m too connected. Back in June I decided to cut myself off from Twitter. I made the decision after I realized I had gotten so used to my phone chirping that I didn’t even hear it anymore. My husband said he heard that ringtone in his sleep. But that may have been because it was going off while he slept. I turned off all mobile alerts and even updated less. It was strangely refreshing. I have since begun tweeting more, but the mobile alerts have stayed off. I check it from the Web and that’s it. It feels pretty good, even though sometimes I feel like I’m missing out on something. When I feel that way, though, I just tell myself that there really was a time in my life I wasn’t digitally connected to the 361 people I follow on Twitter—only 56 of whom I have actually met in real life. This isn’t bad, the gratuitous sharing of information with 305 strangers…I don’t think it’s bad anyway…is it? Let me ask my 361 friends and I’ll get back to you.

And then there’s Facebook. Facebook is a little more personal for me. I know virtually every one of my Facebook friends, except for a few who follow my blog page and friended me from there. And here’s where my quandary begins. Is Facebook too personal?

In the past few weeks I have read about the death of a teenager who was tragically electrocuted, a nine-year-old who fell off playground equipment and passed away, and a 15-year-old who was killed by a drunk driver. Now granted, I probably would have learned about these accidents on the local news if I weren’t a Facebook user, but because of Facebook I knew about these accidents mere hours after they happened, some in great detail, and all were splattered on update after update, page after page.

If it were my child, how would I handle such information being broadcast in such a sensationalized way? Would I embrace the outpouring of concern that immediately followed the news? Would I be angered at how flippantly people talked about the accident, not thinking that maybe I don’t want to see the news—my news—over and over and over, written and re-written by people I don’t know, and will likely never know?

The day after the playground accident I followed a trail of comments out of pure curiosity as to how a family member was handling the death that was being made so very public, so very personal, so very constant. I landed on the little girl’s older brother’s page where he was lamenting not being able to hug his sister ever again. He was thanking everyone for their concern, their offerings of help, their prayers, their words of comfort. And while I was happy to see that he was seemingly okay with the outpouring, I didn’t stay long. I felt like I had stumbled into a room where I knew no one and was a total stranger. It seemed like I was intruding.

And then it occurred to me: I was.

For as long as I’ve been alive I’ve heard the phrase time and again, “What’s this world coming to?”, which is usually uttered when you hear of people leaving their babies in hospital doorways and walking away. Or maybe when an elderly woman is mugged while putting her groceries in her car at the grocery store. Or perhaps when neighbors hears a woman being beaten inside her home by her boyfriend or husband, but no one will help her or call for help for fear of getting involved in a situation that is none of their business. All of those instances where one certainly has to wonder where is the human good? Where does it hide in times like that? Have we watered down all of our goodness until it’s merely apathy?

Or have we taken it to another extreme at the same time?

We are a society where we are in each others’ business all the time. Friendships are torn apart by gossip and slander on someone’s “wall.” Teenagers’ reputations are destroyed by cyber-bullying. Comments are misconstrued. Emotions are splattered across the Internet like so much paint in a ceiling fan. We know things about our friends that we shouldn’t know. We know where they are, what they eat, when they go to bed, when they are alone, and when they aren’t.

Is our concern so bipolar that it flips from non-caring to too much caring in cycles? Do we turn a blind eye to the homeless man asking for work or food or diapers then that same afternoon not even hesitate to gossip about our neighbor, intrude upon grieving, or comment on a subject about which we have no business commenting?

I don’t have an answer to these questions. I would like to think we could find a nice balance of concern and empathy and compassion, but I’m not sure we can. I think we are a society of extremes. It’s all or nothing, baby. Can we change? Can I change?

Maybe if we all took our laptops off our laps for awhile, drove to a friend’s house, and face-to-face asked them, “How are you—really?” we might be able to find an answer.

Diva

Kristin Hoover is the Redneck Diva. A local blogger and stay-at-home mom, Kristin has won Okie Blog Awards for her humorous take on the rural life of a natural-born diva who married a redneck and produced three offspring. Visit her online at http://www.theredneckdiva.com and http://therhok.com.

From the Redneck Diva:

I’m 37-years-old and fact is, I still haven’t figured out exactly what I want to be when I “grow up.” Right now I’m a stay-at-home mom and have pretty much made this my job and focus for the time being, but realistically I know there will come a day when I will more than likely have to leave the house (gasp!) and get a job out there in the world (more gasp!). When that time comes, what will I choose to be my vocation?

Oh, I’d love to be a school secretary—or better yet, a church secretary. I would like being a secretary of any kind really. I think they may call them “administrative assistants” now, but me, I’ll just join the typing pool and learn shorthand, wear my hair in a sensible bun, and carry around a stenographer’s notebook. I’m kind of old-fashioned that way.

Maybe I’ll be a greeter at Walmart. Oh wait . . . I think one has to be relatively happy and sociable for that job. Maybe I’ll work in a bank. Oh wait . . . I hate numbers. A job in a bank would most certainly cause me to spend the better part of every day in tears. Or the fetal position in a corner sucking my thumb. So let’s see, what are some other options . . . butcher? (Ew, the smell of meat makes me queasy.) Baker? (That one actually has promise.) Candlestick maker? (What, will I work at Silver Dollar City?) Doctor? (Ew, blood. And barf. And other oogey things.) Lawyer? (I’m non-confrontational and can’t argue without bursting into tears.) Indian Chief? (I don’t think being 1/128 Cherokee would qualify me to be chief.) Maybe I need to think on this some more.

All this talk of careers and growing up was actually prompted by my 11-year-old son. He has been saying for the last two years that he is going to be an actor. Since the age of nine he has informed those who ask (and some who don’t) that he is going to Julliard and is going to be a famous actor. He told my husband and me awhile back, “You know what, Mom and Dad? When I’m famous, living in New York City, doing all kinds of acting and stuff, I’m going to make sure I take care of you guys back here in Oklahoma.” Of course, we grinned and asked how he planned on taking care of us. I secretly hoped it involved a housekeeper. He stuck out his chest and said, “Every year at Christmas I am going to send you guys TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS.” We sat there smiling waiting for the “and,” and there wasn’t one. God bless him, he’s convinced it is a phenomenally HUGE amount of money. I won’t be the one to tell him. Growing up will school him on that soon enough.

Here lately, though, he has started talking less about acting and more about being a lawyer. The other night I was drawing up a contract on the computer. He watched me without a word and when it came out of the printer he snatched it up before I could. He waved me away and said, “You’d be wise to let your attorney look this over before you send it.” Well, of course, I probably would, but I’d prefer my attorney to have also completed puberty, as well. He looked it over and eventually handed it back to me with this suggestion, “It looks okay to me, but you really should sign it.”” Aha, yes, well, I would’ve, son, had you not snatched it away from me before I could.

Our oldest daughter talked for an entire year about opening a salon with her little sister. They had a name picked out and everything. They said I would get a discount. Now, considering I had that second one without so much as a Tylenol during labor, I’d hope it would be more than a discount, but a discount is what I was offered. Now, though, my nearly 14-year-old has decided a salon is “lame” (as are most things she encounters are these days) and is thinking seriously about becoming a police dispatcher. She is extremely level-headed and would do that job well. And considering that I had to call 911 myself last week and the dispatcher sent the police to the wrong address that didn’t even remotely rhyme with the actual address, I would hope my daughter would do a bit better than that. I’m almost certain she could. Provided, of course, that the emergency wasn’t “lame.”

Our youngest daughter goes back and forth between still hanging onto the dream of a salon with her big sister to becoming a totalitarian dictator of a small third world country. Either one she would be able to manage quite well. She also talks about owning a farm, having a web show, being a teller in a bank, and working in an ice cream shop so she could give her ice cream-loving big sister free ice cream any time she wanted. (Momma gets discounted hair products, but sister gets free ice cream? Where did I go wrong?)

I guess when you’re 8-, eleven- and thirteen-years old the world is wide open to virtually any possibility. I don’t care what they do, frankly, as long as they are happy. They are amazing, intelligent kids with limitless potential and if they want to be sanitation engineers, brain surgeons, or alpaca farmers I will be tickled pink. I just want my kids to be happy. For now I’m content to sit and listen to them talk about their dreams, their hopes, and what they think their future will hold. Those hopes and dreams will likely change several times before they finally grow up, whether the growing up comes at 17, 37, or 57.

And you know, just in case by the time they’re adults I still haven’t figured out what I want to be when I grow up and they feel compelled to send along that $200 at Christmas every year, well, that would be okay, too. I don’t care if it’s postmarked NYC, Tulsa, OK, or the alpaca farm up the road—I’ll just need it to pay for my ice cream and non-discounted visits to the salon.

Diva

Kristin Hoover is the Redneck Diva. A local blogger and stay-at-home mom, Kristin has won Okie Blog Awards for her humorous take on the rural life of a natural-born diva who married a redneck and produced three offspring. Visit her online at http://www.theredneckdiva.com and http://therhok.com.

From the Redneck Diva:

I am largely a non-political person. This fact drives my very political family insane. Many family members have campaigned for various candidates over the years and they are all are active in the various calf fry events, bean dinners, ice cream socials, and meet-the-candidate dinners held throughout the county and state.

We here at the Redneck Diva Ranch usually just stay home. It’s not that we don’t love our families; we just don’t love politics.

See, one side of my family is hardcore Democrat and the other side is dyed-in-the-wool Republican. My husband’s family is part Republican, part backwoods redneck, with a few liberals sprinkled in. I hope you can see why we choose to just stay out of the soup. I am also very non-confrontational and don’t like discussing things that might cause a ruckus. Yes, I just used the word “ruckus” while discussing politics. Again, see why it’s best I just stay as uninvolved as possible?

That all being said, I am 70 kinds of patriotic. I love the USA, my country. Your country. Our country.

It ain’t perfect, but it’s ours.

I love Jesus, Main Streets, drive-in theaters, mom and pop fried chicken restaurants, puppies, soda pop in a glass bottle, Sunday afternoons, school mascots, flip-flop tans, fireflies, the sound of my kids giggling, and the smell of my husband’s cologne.

I love all of those things and more, and I am free to do so because of where I live—in the United States of America.

The state of our country is a serious one. The healthcare crisis is truly a crisis. The economy is a mess. And yes, I have a very Pollyanna-esque way of thinking, but I still love my country. I pray for our leaders whether I agree with them or not. I wouldn’t want to move to Canada even if they did give us Michael Bublé’. I don’t tan well, so Mexico’s out. I can’t live in Europe because my hair dryer won’t work there. See? America is the place for me. I started out here and will finish here, and I am completely happy with that.

I can send my kids to virtually any school I want and at that school they are educated by caring people who are there because they want to be there. I can shop at the stores I want to shop at and buy all the strawberry Pop Tarts and toaster waffles I want. I can go to my church on Sunday morning without fear of being questioned, imprisoned, or murdered.

Yes, America has its flaws. Americans themselves have their flaws. But I love where I live and where I came from. I am truly blessed. I am thankful. I may not be an asset to any particular political party, but I am an American. I am an Oklahoma. An Ottawa Countian. A member of the Hudson Creek community. The matriarch to my little clan of freckle-faced rednecks-in-training. I ain’t perfect, but I’m theirs.

I think Erma Bombeck summed it up quite nicely:

You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism.

You know, Sunday we celebrate our country’s independence. As you eat a charred hotdogs and wave away the flies while warning your kids not to blow their fingers off with a firecracker, maybe just take a moment to forget the flaws our country may possess and just thank your lucky stars that you have a place here….in America.

Happy 4^th, y’all,

Diva

Kristin Hoover is the Redneck Diva. A local blogger and stay-at-home mom, Kristin has won Okie Blog Awards for her humorous take on the rural life of a natural-born diva who married a redneck and produced three offspring. Visit her online at http://www.theredneckdiva.com and http://therhok.com.