I remember the first time I saw Nikki Haley. It was in a high school gym before the 2012 South Carolina Republican presidential primary. Tim Scott, who was then a congressman, was holding a raucous town hall, and Ms. Haley was there to cheer him on. The first woman governor of South Carolina, the first Indian American ever elected to statewide office there, the youngest governor in the country. Whatever that “thing” is that talented politicians possess, Ms. Haley had it. People liked her, and more important, she seemed to like people. She talked with you, not to you, and made routine conversations feel special and important. She seemed to have unlimited potential.
The world famous Georgia Guidestones in Elberton, Georgia, were destroyed earlier this summer.
The Georgia Guidestones Explained 9 February 2021
The origin of this strange monument is shrouded in mystery because no one knows the true identity of the man, or men, who commissioned its construction in Elbert County, Georgia, in the United States.
All that is known for certain is that in June 1979, a well-dressed, articulate stranger visited the office of the Elberton Granite Finishing Company and announced that he wanted to build an edifice to transmit a message to mankind. The Message of The Georgia Guidestones
Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature.
Guide reproduction wisely – improving fitness and diversity.
Unite humanity with a living new language.
Rule passion – faith – tradition – and all things with tempered reason.
Protect people and nations with fair laws and just courts.
Let all nations rule internally resolving external disputes in a world court.
Avoid petty laws and useless officials.
Balance personal rights with social duties.
Prize truth – beauty – love – seeking harmony with the infinite.
Be not a cancer on the earth – Leave room for nature – Leave room for nature.
What is the true significance of the American Stonehenge, and why is its covert message important? Because it confirms the fact that there is a covert group intent on:
(1) Dramatically reducing the population of the world – Eugenics, chemtrails, GMO food, etc, etc (2) Promoting environmentalism. (3) Establishing a one world government, one world economy and one world religion lead by the Antichrist, DEAD pope John Paul ll.. (4) Promoting a new spirituality – “New Age” and “religions” not Biblical Truth that is found only in the King James bible.
Certainly the group that commissioned the Georgia Guidestones is one of many similar groups working together toward a New World Order, a new world economic system, and a new world spirituality. Behind those groups, however, are dark spiritual forces, spiritual wickedness in high places. Without understanding the nature of those dark forces it is impossible to understand the unfolding of world events in these Bible times.
The fact that most Americans have never heard of the Georgia Guidestones or their message to humanity reflects the degree of control that exists today over what the American people think. We ignore that message at our peril. https://www.thevoid.uk/void-post/the-georgia-guidestones-explained/
The Guidestones were a curiosity for four decades, and from the above, obviously thought provoking. Here at the Armchair Warrior blog all almost all viewpoints are given, even if only short shrift. They were a tourist attraction, bringing people from all over the world to visit the Great State of Georgia. The Georgia Guidestones have been featured in countless television shows, and talked about on myriad radio stations. Much has been written about the Guidestones. I would like to see them replaced. For them to be removed for all time would mean the destroyers got what they wanted and could be considered “winners,” when they are, in fact, LOSERS! This is their “hero”:
Elberton is located east of Athens, Georgia, home of the University of Georgia, and near the state line of the Great State of South Carolina. It is south of Interstate 85, virtually in the middle of farm land. The nearest city would be the small town of Bowman, due south of Royston, Georgia, home of one of the most famous Georgians of all time, Major League Baseball Hall of Famer, Ty Cobb.
Some years ago I lived in Lavonia, Georgia, which is north of Royston, and it is on Interstate 85. Politically speaking, most of the people in the area are very conservative. They do not ‘lean’ Republican, they are the very backbone of the Republican political party. Most of the folks in the area do not “cotton to change” as can be heard from the locals. Coming from the Atlanta area meant I already had one strike against me. When spoken about it was invariably said, “He’s from Atlanta, you know.” Those listening would nod in agreement. To the locals someone like me brought the dreaded word, “change.” The last thing most of those people wanted was change in any form, which is the problem with conservatism, and the Republican party, because change is a part of life. Things change every second; nothing remains the same, yet there are those who wish only to stop change, as if that is ever going to happen. An example would be what happened at the local grocery store after first moving to Lavonia. The Presidential election, stolen by the Trumpster by using information provided by the nefarious Russians (How, exactly, did the Trumpster return the favor?), was only a few months away. A fellow Senior began talking to me and thinking I was “one of them” invited me outside to show me something. I had promised Patricia not to discuss politics with anyone, so as we walked toward his vehicle covered in Trumpster I thought about what she had said. The dude tried to recruit me, but stopped in his tracks when informed I was a Democrat. Dude looked like he had just been punched in the gut… To the people there I was about as out of place as the Georgia Guidestones. The nicest person to me was the local librarian, who oversaw not only the Lavonia library, but the one in Royston as well. We talked about my teaching a class on Chess for the children. She was honest enough to inform me that the parents did not want my “Putting new ideas into the heads of their children,” so there was no Chess for the area. Therefore I kept to myself and we traveled to other cities to shop, like Royston, where long time friends of Patricia lived, and the much larger Anderson, South Carolina.
I thought about this recently after being transported to Emory Hospital in an ambulance, as I was unable to walk, or even stand, without extreme pain. The young female doctor who admitted me was talking with the ambulance drivers and when I mentioned having been transported by ambulance to the hospital, St. Mary’s Sacred Heart Hospital,
in Lavonia, some years before, she said, “Really? That’s where I live. Where did you live?” After telling her about Gus Whiting Road she said, “I know exactly where that is! Were you near the red house?” The answer was, “Yeah, I lived in that house.” She exclaimed, “I don’t believe it! It was the talk of the town when improvements were being made.”
28 Gus Whiting Road, Lavonia, Georgia before renovations
Then one of the ambulance drivers, the one I thought maybe had an interest beyond medicine with the young, attractive doctor, spoke up, saying, “You mean you live up there? Why don’t you work there?” She said, “Because they don’t pay enough.” He was incredulous, saying, “You mean you make that drive twice a day?” That is the way it is in Atlanta these daze… A couple of weeks ago someone had to come to the apartment to make repairs. He drove in from Birmingham, Alabama. Atlanta is the engine that drives the Great State of Georgia, yet those who do not live in Atlanta have controlled the state, politically speaking, for far too long, to the detriment of all of the state. Most of the people residing outside of the metropolitan Atlanta area consider Atlanta to be akin to Sodom and Gomorrah. Those that do not change are left behind.
This blog has reached into all but five countries on the planet, all but four countries in the middle of Africa, and North Korea. This has been written in order to give readers at least partial understanding of what could have possibly driven low life people of little intelligence to destroy what has been called ‘America’s Stonehenge’. In order to give you an idea of why some nefarious scumbag(s) would destroy something iconic to Georgia please read this:
“The Georgia Guidestones have been a source of considerable speculation among conspiracy theorists since they were first unveiled in Elberton back in 1980. Created by an anonymous individual, the elaborate monument consists of four stone slabs which feature ten ‘guiding principles’ written in eight different languages and ostensibly aimed at steering humanity towards a better future. While some of these tenets, such as “protect people and nations with fair laws and just courts,” appear to be fairly benign, there are other ‘guidelines’ which have caused some consternation, including a call to keep humanity’s population “under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature.”
“As one might imagine, that particular ‘suggestion’ has fueled rumors that the Guidestones are the work of nefarious forces associated with the proverbial New World Order and that they wish to enact some kind of population control by any means necessary. The possibly nefarious nature of the moment was in the news earlier this year when Georgia gubernatorial candidate Kandiss Taylor pledged to have the piece, which she called Satanic, destroyed if she were elected. While her campaign came to an end when she finished third in the GOP primary back in May, her call to action may have inspired the misguided individuals who targeted the monument on Wednesday morning.” (https://www.coasttocoastam.com/article/video-sizeable-portion-of-georgia-guidestones-destroyed-by-explosion/)
Georgia Guidestones go to EGA museum By News Staff on Friday, August 12, 2022 by Rose Scoggins
CNI News Service
The remnants of the Georgia Guidestones will have a new home as they were donated to the Elberton Granite Association (EGA) Museum after a vote from the Elbert County Board of Commissioners during Monday night’s meeting. The vote came after hesitancy from the board as they lagged to make a motion. “If we do not donate them, what are we going to do with them?” Chairman Lee Vaughn asked. Commissioner Casey Freeman said the board had previously discussed options on what to do with the stones and said he’d hoped that a foundation would have been created that the remnants could be donated to. “That hasn’t happened yet,” Freeman said. “I’ll make the motion that we go ahead and donate those things to EGA.” After a second from commissioner Kenneth Ashworth, the board voted 4-0 to approve the donation. EGA Executive Vice President Chris Kubas said Tuesday that EGA doesn’t currently have a timeline or specific plan for the pieces, but wanted to make sure that they were properly preserved. “The county was making it clear that they literally did not want them at all and, if left up to them, they could’ve just been destroyed and crushed up into gravel and that would’ve been the end of them,” Kubas said. “From the granite industry perspective, we didn’t want to see that happen. They are a testament to the type of work we do and a lot of people feel really connected to them. It was quite a monumental undertaking to create that. I don’t know if all the pieces are going to be utilized, but there are some larger pieces that could be incorporated into some sort of display at the museum in the future. Until we can study that, we said ‘We’ll take them and take charge of them’ just so they stay preserved until we can figure out what to do with them.’ I will probably talk to Mayor [Daniel] Graves and we’ll [see] how we can best do something in the future that would promote tourism from the Guidestones.” The board added the donation to the agenda after discussing the video surveillance system still at the monument during the Aug. 4 work session. Emergency Services Director Chuck Almond asked the board to consider disconnecting the system in order to use the fiber cables that connect the surveillance system to their emergency operations center on Mahoney Drive for a telephone system connecting the center, the fire administration building and the new fire building. “We’re paying $150 per month for the fiber that runs from our office to Guidestones Road,” Almond said Thursday. “We’ve been monitoring it. We’ve had to send the sheriff’s department out there a couple of times. We saw a couple of people with rakes and shovels. As far as what we’re doing for that property, I think it’s time to disconnect…Those cameras are our property and we’ve been paying a security camera to do maintenance. We should separate from that if its possible.” Elbert County Attorney Bill Daughtry said last week that the county is waiting to hear back from their insurance company before moving forward with reverting the Guidestones property back to its original owner. “Our insurance company has never dealt with the bombing of a monument. It’s taking them a little longer than a normal insurance claim,” Daughtry said. “If we have claims-made policy, we find out there’s coverage and we make a claim but we no longer own the property, that could potentially be grounds for denying our claim. We’re still waiting on an answer from the [Association of Georgia County Commissioners] about insurance coverage. I think that the bulk of the work was donated, but emergency services had a lot of overtime, the sheriff’s office had three or four days of overtime. We’d like to reimburse that through our insurance company if we can.” https://www.thenortheastgeorgian.com/local-news/georgia-guidestones-go-ega-museum
One of the things most liked about writing a blog is the people met via the internet. There are many “followers” of the AW, and I check out all of them. An example would be the blog, Amanda Likes To Travel (http://amandalikestotravel.com/). I have lived vicariously through the written words of Amanda, because I, too, liked to travel. Amanda has not written lately and I can only hope it is because Amanda, like most of us, has hunkered down during the COVID-19 crisis. Maybe Amanda will consider temporarily changing the blog to, “Hunkering down with Amanda.”
Sometimes emails are received from readers, which means being in contact with people all over the world because of writing the AW. Recently an email was received from a young lady who lives in one of the northern states. She wrote, “Since you live and write about the south, I want to know about states rights.” She had noticed a map showing the states who had yet to impose restrictions for the people of that particular state, most being in the South.
How to answer such a question in a blog post?
From the book, The Day Dixie Died,
by Gary Ecelbarger:
“The elation of the conquerors disintegrated, for the Ohioans had then exposed themselves to a counterpunch. That left hook came in the form of Georgia and South Carolina infantry. Those were the four regiments commanded by a man with the most unique birth name in the war-Brigadier General States Rights Gist, who was born during South Carolina’s nullification crisis of 1832. Gist’s father named him as a symbol of the state’s resolve, one that was enacted twenty-eight years later when South Carolina became the first of eleven Southern states to seceded from the United States. General Gist was an experienced, brave, and resilient commander. The day before the battle, Gist was struck in the back by an enemy bullet, a glancing shot that hit him close to his spine, but did not lodge within him. The general shrugged it off; a surgeon dressed the wound, and he was back in the saddle almost immediately.”
The United States is a collection of fifty sovereign states. The first state, Delaware, was ratified on December 7, 1787. The Great State of Georgia was the fourth state to ratify, doing so on January 2, 1788. My home state was the first Southern state. The Great State of South Carolina, the eighth state to ratify on May 23, 1788, was the second Southern state. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_U.S._states_by_date_of_admission_to_the_Union)
In addition, this is also found at Wikipedia:
A state of the United States is one of the 50 constituent entities that shares its sovereignty with the federal government. Americans are citizens of both the federal republic and of the state in which they reside, due to the shared sovereignty between each state and the federal government.[1] Kentucky, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and Virginia use the term commonwealth rather than state in their full official names.
States are the primary subdivisions of the United States. They possess all powers not granted to the federal government, nor prohibited to them by the United States Constitution. In general, state governments have the power to regulate issues of local concern, such as: regulating intrastate commerce, running elections, creating local governments, public school policy, and non-federal road construction and maintenance. Each state has its own constitution grounded in republican principles, and government consisting of executive, legislative, and judicial branches. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_U.S._states_by_date_of_admission_to_the_Union)
That is pretty cut and dry, is it not? Still…The fact is that the South was much more prosperous than the north prior to the war because cotton was king.
“In 1860, 5 of the 10 wealthiest states in the US are slave states; 6 of the top 10 in per capita wealth; calculated just by white population, 8 of 10. The single wealthiest county per capita was Adams County, Mississippi. As a separate nation in 1860, the South by itself would have been the world’s 4th wealthiest, ahead of everyone in Europe but England. Italy did not enjoy an equivalent level of per capita wealth until after WWII; the South’s per capita growth rate was 1.7%, 1840-60, 1/3 higher than the North’s and among the greatest in history.
from Walter Johnson, “King Cotton’s Long Shadow,” NY Times (4/30/13):
… In his Second Inaugural Address, Lincoln said he feared God would will the war to continue “until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword.” This reckoning of the value of slaves in blood and treasure raises an important, though too frequently overlooked, question. What was the role of slavery in American economic development?
The most familiar answer to that question is: not much. By most accounts, the triumph of freedom and the birth of capitalism are seen as the same thing. The victory of the North over the South in the Civil War represents the victory of capitalism over slavery, of the future over the past, of the factory over the plantation. In actual fact, however, in the years before the Civil War, there was no capitalism without slavery. The two were, in many ways, one and the same.” (http://inside.sfuhs.org/dept/history/US_History_reader/Chapter5/southernecon.html)
The people of the northern states wanted more Southern money and enacted the Morrill Tariff (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morrill_Tariff) in order to obtain more money, which caused the South to rebel.
Charles Dickens,
from his journal, All the Year Round, observed, “The last grievance of the South was the Morrill tariff, passed as an election bribe to the State of Pennsylvania, imposing, among other things, a duty of no less than fifty per cent on the importation of pig iron, in which that State is especially interested.” (https://medium.com/@jonathanusa/everything-you-know-about-the-civil-war-is-wrong-9e94f0118269)
A terrible war was fought over control of wealth. The northern people won the war and got the wealth. They could have done anything they wanted, like building schools for the freed slaves in order to educate them and “bring them up to speed.” The victors could have rebuilt the South. Instead they left the South alone, possibly fearing the Southern people would again secede. That was not going to happen because the Southern people were completely devastated. It would be many generations before the South could even consider doing anything with the yankee boot on their necks. General Robert E. Lee
said to former Governor of Texas, Fletcher Stockdale, in 1870: “Governor, if I had forseen the use those people designed to make use of their victory, there would have been no surrender at Appomattox; no, sir, not by me. Had I forseen these results of subjugation, I would have preferred to die at Appomattox with my brave men, my sword in my right hand.” That sword had previously belonged to George Washington, the Father of our country. The Federal gov’mint let the Southerners do its thing while turning a blind eye to segregation for a century, until one man, the outspoken Dr. Martin Luther King,
led his people in the streets, demanding equality.
Just so you will know exactly how I feel about the past of my South a story will related from my youth. Members of our extended family in the house and the television was on and it showed black people marching right there in downtown Atlanta. The usual Southern things could be heard, such as, “They oughta be put in jail,” and “They oughta be sent back to where they came from.” I cringed upon hearing one family member say, “They oughta be LYNCHED!”
The room became deathly quiet when I said, “I dunno…if I had dark skin I would be right out there marching with them.”
After being told by my Mother to “Go outside,” I did just that. On the way out I heard one say, “Mary, your boy ain’t right.”
Mother responded, “Michael has a mind of his own.”
The following article appeared in the venerable New York Times after the last post was composed, and posted, as if by synchronicity…
After getting to know a little about me a fellow in Louisville, Kentucky, Rick Rothenberg, from Indiana, said I reminded him of another Southerner he had known earlier. Rick said, “The man was so Southern he would not even go out of the house if the wind was blowing from the north!”
Reading the New South
A group of forward-thinking, upstart journals and websites are exploding the stereotypes so many attach to this place and its people.
By Margaret Renkl
Contributing opinion writer
Sept. 17, 2018
Some of Lyndsey Gilpin’s collection of books on the South.CreditCreditAndrew Spear for The New York Times
NASHVILLE — I was a graduate student in Philadelphia when James Watt, the former Secretary of the Interior of the United States, came to campus in 1984. Mr. Watt’s brief tenure in federal office was characterized by an almost cartoonish villainy. Rolling Stone magazine called his attitude toward the environment a “rip-and-ruin view of our natural resources, land, water, parks and wilderness.” That night Watt argued for letting each state set its own air- and water-safety standards, a position that makes no sense if you’re aware that rivers and winds don’t respect state borders.
During the Q. and A., I took my turn at the microphone to make this point. “Sir,” I said, “I’m from Alabama.” Instantly that giant audience of Pennsylvanians broke into laughter. Who was this cracker daring to voice an opinion about federal environmental policy?
Well, that was 1984, you’re probably thinking. Today we don’t judge people by their accents any more than we judge them by their skin color. People know better now.
Except they don’t. The political polarization of our own day means that a region like the South, a red voting bloc in national elections, is a source of continual liberal ridicule, no matter the subject. In June I wrote about the transcendently beautiful Mobile-Tensaw Delta, one of the most ecologically diverse places in the country. When I posted the link on Facebook with a note about its magic, someone commented, “Except that it’s in Alabama.” As though nothing in the whole state could possibly have any value at all.
As stereotypes go, this one surely doesn’t rank among the top 10 most objectionable human prejudices, but it stings even so. Fortunately there is plenty of on-the-ground proof to counter it. Among the most important is a raft of publications, many so new they’re still on shaky financial footing, that aim to convey the genuine complexities of the modern American South. They are planted in the South and created by Southerners, people who love this place but who nevertheless see it all too truly.
Unlike lifestyle glossies like Southern Living and Garden & Gun (which is assiduously apolitical, despite what its name might suggest), these publications blast past sweet-tea-and-moonshine preconceptions to convey the nuances of a region where people are rarely as ornery and dumb as they’re held to be in the national imagination.
The oldest of them is the Oxford American, founded in Oxford, Miss., but now based in Conway, Ark., which was first launched in 1992. (A print quarterly, it has foundered a number of times over the years, ceasing publication until new funding arrived, which somehow always has.) In many ways, it set the tone for all the publications that followed, celebrating the artistic innovations of the region but refusing to gloss over its manifold shortcomings.
The latest issue includes a nonfiction report by Kelsey Norris on a Nashville oral-history project focusing on the descendants of slaves; Beth Macy’s profile of the Appalachian playwright and novelist Robert Gipe; “Bikers,” a poem by the Virginia native Kate Daniels about her brothers (“What foreign lives they lived / With their deer hunts, and their / Love of speed, and their boring jobs / In factories”) and a short story by David Wesley Williams about a hitchhiker stuck in West Memphis, Ark. The story is called “Stay Away From Places With Directions in Their Names.”
The tagline for Facing South, an online publication of the progressive Institute for Southern Studies in Durham, N.C., is “A Voice for a Changing South.” The site focuses on politics, history and human rights, with recent articles on voting rights during Reconstruction, South Carolina’s present refusal to evacuate convicts in advance of Hurricane Florence and delays in compensation for people sickened by the 2010 Deepwater Horizon disaster in the Gulf of Mexico.
Scalawag, another nonprofit publication out of Durham, also reports regional politics with a progressive eye, though it covers regional art and literature, too, and includes a section titled, simply, “Witness.” The magazine, which is published online and in print, fosters “critical conversations about the many Souths where we live, love and struggle” and aims to empower “activists, artists and writers to reckon with Southern realities as they are, rather than as they seem to be.” Recent stories confront toxic masculinity, explain how to fight racism through the auspices of craft beer, collect a range of Latinx poetry from around the American South, and report on Syrian cuisine in small-town Georgia.
The Southern Foodways Alliance, based in Oxford, Miss., publishes a print quarterly called Gravy. Despite its name, the journal does more than report on cuisine, continuing the work of the alliance itself by showcasing, through food, “a South that is constantly evolving, accommodating new immigrants, adopting new traditions and lovingly maintaining old ones.” The latest issue includes an article on “The Queer Pleasures of Tammy Wynette’s Cooking” by Mayukh Sen and a profile by Osayi Endolyn of Joe Stinchcomb, an African-American bartender who invented five new cocktails, to celebrate Black History Month. The drinks had names like “Blood on the Leaves” and “(I’m Not Your) Negroni,” and they definitely raised some hackles down there in Mississippi.
For anyone still hoping to define Southern literature, storySouth is an online literary journal based in Greensboro, N.C. It publishes “the best fiction, creative nonfiction and poetry that writers from the New South have to offer,” according to its website. Subjects that seem to play into regional stereotypes can be found there at times. The current issue features a poem called “Roadkill” by Megan Blankenship and one by William Woolfitt called “Grassy Branch Pentecostal Church, Face of Christ on Tin,” for example. But read the poems: This is not your unlamented Agrarian’s Southern literature.
Perhaps the liveliest of the whole bunch is an absolutely wonderful online publication called The Bitter Southerner, an irreverent Atlanta-based site that truly covers the cultural waterfront, celebrating the lunacy of genuine homegrown geniuses, lifting up the unsung heroes of the region, and peeking behind the veil of great cultural institutions, and all while holding power to account in a part of the world where power has too often lost its uneducated mind.
But it’s the newest of these publications that most often captures my own attention these days. Southerly began in late 2016 as a weekly newsletter of investigative journalism, plus curated links to “News Flying Under the Radar” by other journalists around the region. Until this summer, when it received a grant from Solutions Journalism Network, it was funded entirely by Patreon subscribers, who monthly contribute an average of five dollars each through an online portal. Those supporters are still crucial to its survival. Lyndsey Gilpin — the magazine’s founder, editor and publisher — is a Northwestern University-trained journalist based in her hometown, Louisville, Ky., and her weekly reports from impoverished and often oppressed corners of the South have given a microphone to people whose voices are rarely heard in conversations about climate change, environmental exploitation or economic disparity.
Lyndsey Gilpin, founder of Southerly, an online magazine, near her home in Louisville, Ky.CreditAndrew Spear for The New York Times
In July, Southerly grew into a full-fledged “independent media organization” that “covers the intersection of ecology, justice and culture in the American South,” according to its new website, and already it is taking no prisoners. The site — in partnership with The Montgomery Advertiser and Scalawag — launched with a four-part series on the breakout of tropical diseases in the rural South owing to failing sewage infrastructure. On Sept. 22, Southerly will convene a public discussion in Hayneville, Ala., about poverty-related illnesses and how communities can address the governmental crisis that spawned them.
Southerly’s mission statement sets out some uncompromising goals: “This region stands to bear the brunt and lose the most from the effects of climate change. It is experiencing massive economic shifts from a changing energy industry. The South is the fastest urbanizing area of the United States, but it is also the most economically distressed. Southerners deserve a publication that covers the nuances of their environment, history and communities without being condescending or stereotypical, without parachuting in from large metropolitan areas. The rest of the world deserves to know about the creative ways communities here are adapting to these changes, and the challenges that come with that.”
You could almost call it a mission statement for celebrating — and transforming — the South itself.
My birthday is tomorrow, or today, depending…Technically, according to legend, I was born at 7 AM, August 21, 1950, in the back seat of a Ford convertible on the way to Emory hospital. The story handed down says my mother’s cousin, Carrie, was in the back seat attempting to keep me from coming by keeping mothers legs together. I was having none of it, and pushed my way into the world.
The next day at the blog begins at 8 PM, so technically it is already August 21, but then, it’s always five o’clock somewhere according to fellow Georgian and country singer Alan Jackson. I have therefore decided to publish a couple of posts that are personal in nature. Without further ado…
Someone did an internet search of yours truly finding my name, Mike Bacon, contained in a blog post. “Is that you?” he inquired. After checking it out, honesty compelled me to reply it was indeed me about whom she had written. If unaccustomed to reading something someone has written about you it can be disconcerting. I write about other people, some of whom like it, some are indifferent, and some do not like it at all. I have always appreciated hearing what others think of me, which seldom happens unless someone wants to give you a piece of their mind.
I met Debbie while driving a cab. As a matter of fact it was an “outlaw” cab because I was in Atlanta and the cab was registered in another county. I was in that particular cab because the folks at Checker Cab Company wanted me to better learn other areas of the metropolitan Atlanta area which would help if I decided to become a dispatcher. Unfortunately, the manager of the company feared I was there to take his job. Long story short, the manager of this particular company, a fat, smarmy type was “in love” with some woman and was apparently embezzling funds to spend on “the love of his life” from the small company which had earlier been purchased by Checker Cab Co. I voiced my suspicions to the supervisor, who happened to be a friend. He told the owners, who did not want to hear it, and I left the company. Later my friend, TDub, informed me an audit had been instituted because of my suspicions and it was found the guy had been, in fact, embezzling funds…
Debbie and I had a short, tempestuous, relationship. Some of my acquaintances thought of her as a “new age” type. She had an apartment in a nice, upscale, area and asked me to move in with her. I was only there a few days because the manager of the property did not want a taxi parked anywhere near the place. Debbie wanted me to talk with the lady in hopes talking with me would dissuade the woman. Even though I told her it would be a waste of time she convinced me to talk with the woman. It was a waste of time, and I moved immediately…
Debbie told me she had been in the import-export business, traveling the world making purchases which she would sell while turning a profit. Upon learning I had been in the sports memorabilia business she said, “So you were in retail, too!”
The last time I saw Debbie she had gotten touch to invite me to her houseboat on Lake Lanier. I was informed she was on the lake as a way of “getting off the grid,” because of a “deal gone wrong.” I did not ask her to elaborate…
After beginning this blog a comment was left by Debbie. We corresponded via email for some time and I learned she had gotten heavily involved with Reikki, and Thai massage. She sent a picture of her and of her house/business in Indiana:
What can I say other than Debbie is a colorful, and quirky, woman…
What follows is from her blog. Rather than providing a link I have decided to print the whole thing. If you decide to read it I would like you to understand something important. The piece is a mixture of fact and fantasy. For the record, I am agnostic. Debbie writes, “I got in the passenger seat alongside Mike…” If one drives a cab in Atlanta it is OK to have a female in the front seat with no passenger(s) in the back ONLY IF THE METER IS OFF! If the meter is on there must be people in the back seat, with the front seat utilized only in that event. This is because there is a law against it, which dates to a time cab drivers would have a woman in the front seat with them who was amenable to administering to the needs of certain passengers, if you get my drift…The police are very strict about enforcing that particular law. In addition, when a cabbie arrived at a “Gentleman’s Club” he was, at the time I drove, given a certain amount of cash per each passenger, which varied at each joint, and the new ones would ‘up the ante’ as a way of having more patrons come through the door. No cab driver would allow ANYONE to sit in a cash seat. So her riding around in my cab while I was on duty NEVER HAPPENED! I will, though, give Debbie “poetic license,” along with the caveat “Creativity comes from the dark side,” a quote from Glenn Frey.
It is written: “Mike claimed that the most lucrative night of the year for Atlanta’s cabbies was the last night of the Southern Baptist convention. After sending their families and attendees away in time for Sunday services back home, a select group of pastors, choir directors, youth leaders and the like stayed on for a little private convening of their own…at the infamous Cheetah strip club.”
Evidently I regaled Debbie with tales of cabbie daze. Unfortunately, she is writing a couple of decades after the fact and has obviously misconstrued some things. For instance, I never drove as “Cab load after cab load of these church guys were carried from their fancy midtown hotels to the club all night long.” As a matter of fact my most memorable trip to the infamous Cheetah Club culminated with one of the three passengers in the back seat being ARRESTED. To make matters worse, the drunken fool claimed to be an assistant DA in some small town in South Carolina. I asked them nicely to “tone it down.” Two did, but the fellow in the middle refused to comply even when the other two begged him to be quiet. He ridiculed me for driving a taxi, constantly making disparaging comments. I took more than necessary because no cab driver wants to lose a fare. I was fed up with his verbal abuse so pulled over on Spring street and ordered them out of the cab. The assistant DA began screaming, “YOU DON’T KNOW WHO I AM!” I AM AN ASSISTANT DA!” I replied, “Mister, I don’t give a shit who you are. If you were the Attorney General you would have to abide by MY RULES because it is MY CAB, and when you are in MY CAB I AM THE SUPREME CAB CONTROLLER!!!”
The other two passengers attempted to talk sense to the idiot, but he was out of his mind DRUNK, and refused to listen. They exited the cab, but Mr. Ass DA refused, so I called the dispatcher, who notified the police. Upon arriving the cops wanted to hear what I had to say, which pissed him off IMMENSELY. He continued to talk, saying things like, “Why are you talking to a lowly CAB DRIVER. YOU DON’T KNOW WHO I AM! I AM AN ASSISTANT DA! YOU SHOULD BE TALKING TO ME!”
One of the cops responded, “Sir, I don’t care if you are the Attorney General. I want to talk with the cabbie. If you do not SHUT-UP you are going to JAIL!” This pissed him off even more and he continued his drunken blather, so was slapped in irons and taken to jail. After leaving I got back into MY CAB and started to drive off. The two quiet drunks said, “Hey, you ain’t gonna leave us here on the side of the road are you?” Before hitting the gas I said, “Call a CAB!”
I will admit that during convention time I drove “Cab load after cab load…” to and from strip clubs because that was my JOB. But I never drove “church guys” because it was a well known fact that the church types preferred staying in their rooms to watch porn. Anyone around during that time will tell you the rentals of porn videos was off the charts at every hotel in the city when the religious types came into town. Business was so bad at the strip clubs many of the girls did not come to work and most of those who did were sent home.
With this in mind I give you…
Psycho Taxi Boy on a Terribly Hot Sunday Night with the Southern Baptist Convention
13 January 2017
“Want to go for a ride? We haven’t talked in awhile…”
I recognized that drawl…
Mike Bacon…miscreant, Atlanta Chess Champion cum gypsy cab driver…
Against my better judgment, I said ok.
“Meet me out front in half an hour.”
The uniquely infuriating Mike Bacon aka Psycho Taxi Boy…
Our last big blowup was 5 or 6 months before.
He had insulted me to the limits of my patience…over some alleged
scandalous behavior of church leaders.
Now Michael had no patience for religious types.
I had little myself, but he had brought his point home
in a stunningly dreadful way.
Now, word for word, no one on the planet has a better command
of the English language than a denizen of the American South.
They are easily the most colorful, artful and entertaining of the speakers.
They certainly do the most with the least.
Homespun wit and native intellect merge in a wickedly punchy brew.
Consider the likes of Tom Robbins if you don’t believe me…
Having ferried all manner of people from around the world in his cab
all those years, Michael had an endless supply of quirky stories.
Ever the acute observer of the human condition, driving cab allowed him
to travel the world from the comfort of his front seat…affording him
not only a unique education, but the freedom to compete in chess tournaments and still keep a roof over his head.
We had met in his cab, in fact.
It was Halloween night, but that is another story…
Michael had surmised that I was still somewhat in the chokehold
of old time religion and needed some wising up.
There was nothing defensible in religion, according to Michael.
We debated the topic hotly one more time.
He told me exactly why he had no faith in those hypocrites.
Michael waxed virulent that day and we blasted apart.
I was still stinging from his attack months later…
Mike claimed that the most lucrative night of the year for Atlanta’s cabbies
was the last night of the Southern Baptist convention.
After sending their families and attendees away in time for Sunday services
back home, a select group of pastors, choir directors, youth leaders
and the like stayed on for a little private convening of their own…
at the infamous Cheetah strip club.
Now the only strip club that was open on a Sunday night was the Cheetah.
Cab load after cab load of these church guys were carried from their fancy midtown hotels to the club all night long.
Mike went into shocking and sordid detail, much to my horror and dismay.
He just wouldn’t let up!
Tempers flared!
I didn’t care if I ever saw Michael again!
Then the soft drawl of his voice that late afternoon…
Much as I hated to admit it, I missed him…
his surly, recalcitrant humor, his edgy droll outlook,
not to mention the peculiar metaphysical experiences
that spontaneously erupted whenever we got together…
I got in the passenger seat alongside Mike, unsure of how to reconnect.
He was a little tucked inside, as well.
He drove toward downtown Atlanta in silence.
Then a little cautious chit chat.
Things eased up. It was good spending time with him again.
First stop…one of the most expensive hotels in the heart of midtown.
Three well-dressed gentlemen got into the back seat.
Destination: the Cheetah club.
Mike dutifully dropped them off, wishing them a good night.
Moments later, 2 men emerged from the club with hookers
on their arms.
They drunkenly waved Michael down and squeezed in.
The cab suddenly reeked of alcohol, cigar smoke and cheap perfume.
Repugnant! I rolled my window down.
Destination: the hotel we had just come from.
I squirmed uncomfortably.
There was too much activity in the back seat for me, but Michael was unfazed.
Finally they exited the cab, only to be replaced by a clump of men
filling the back seat once more, nervously requesting the Cheetah.
They didn’t seem the type, but looks could be deceiving, I reasoned.
None of them seemed the type, but perhaps I was naïve.
Three pale, overweight drunk guys clambered into the back seat
upon their exit…all sporting wedding bands.
Back to the nice hotel.
The men were foul-mouthed…pretty vile, actually.
I glanced at Mike a few times, wincing at their remarks.
He remained impassive.
‘It is what it is,’ I could almost hear him say.
As the night wore on, the fares were rowdier, more crude.
The same sickening circuit.
Too many scantily-clad women draped over their fat arms.
Then some lines of cocaine were snorted in the back seat.
I was churning inside, wondering how I could escape the cab.
I’d had enough!
The men were nothing short of bestial, despite their fine suits,
expensive watches and other ostentatious trappings of wealth.
I overheard their conversations. There was no escaping it.
I was already mortified, but things were about to get worse…
A snatch of conversation held me riveted.
The men were bragging about their conquests, each one trying to best the others.
That’s when I heard them mocking their wives…their mistresses…
and their congregations.
My blood boiled, my stomach turned…
I realized what night it was…
Sunday night- the infamous last night of the Southern Baptist Convention.
The fine suits, conservative haircuts, wedding bands, their coarse mockery,
the long line of cabs making the non-stop circuit between the Cheetah
and the fine hotels.
“Michael! Please get me out of here!!!”
Michael finished one more run…for emphasis.
Then he pulled to the side of the road so I could retch.
I shook with revulsion…and understanding.
He had exposed the rabble of southern Baptist preachers.
All these streets are never ending
Tie ’em in a knot
Drive me through a red light
Waiting for everyone to stop
Sing to me like Pavarotti
Sing to me of Spain
Take me to you operetta
And make it rain
[Chorus:]
Taxi, taxi, give me a ride
I’m gonna take you to the other side
Taxi, taxi, turn off your light
I’m gonna ride with you all night
Take me to your meditation
Take me to your door
Show me love’s sweet revelation
Lying on your floor
Hole me in your arms forever
Take me to the end
Drive me to the edge of nowhere
And sing again
(chorus)
You’re as cool as Colorado
And Orpheus on fire
Crash the car into a rainbow
Here with me tonight
All the satellites are shining
In the starry sky
I can feel your arms surround me
Higher and higher
(chorus)
Taxi, taxi, taxi, taxi
Sing to me like Pavarotti
Sing to me
(chorus)
Taxi, taxi, give me a ride
I’m gonna ride with you all night
I’m gonna ride with you all night
I’m gonna ride with you all night
(repeat 2 times)
Taxi, taxi
Does this mean Naka has grown old, at least as a Chess player? Seeing this game caused me to reflect on a post found at GM Kevin Spraggett’s website recently, Samurai Spassky. Kevin provides Spassky’s original annotations to a Caro-Kann game played in 1959: Boris Spassky vs Aaron Reshko, St.Petersburg. Also provided is a PDF of a 1969 Soviet-Life article containing Spassky’s thoughts on the Caro-Kann, which I transcribed:
“The Caro-Kann is quite popular now, but it is usually employed by passive-minded players. The main idea of this system is that Black temporarily declines a Pawn battle in the middle and strives, instead, to quickly as possible finish deploying his forces, especial the Queen’s Bishop, before the King’s Pawn move P-K3. Only after this does he launch vigorous operations in the center. The result is that Black’s position is solid, even though passive. The weakness of this system is that it offers White too much a wide a choice of possible patterns of development, which provides not only chess, but also psychological trumps.” http://www.spraggettonchess.com/samurai-spassky/
Former US Chess Champion Stuart Rachels,
now an Associate Professor of Philosophy at the University of Alabama, said, “Play main lines.” That may be good advice for top flight players, but for the rest of us, “Where is the fun in that?” I have never, ever, not once, played Bf5. After 1 e4 c6 2 d4 d5 3 e5 I have only played 3…c5 and Qb6. Upon returning to Chess after leaving the Royal game for the more lucrative Backgammon I played mostly obscure and little known openings, such as what was called by Kazim Gulamali,
the “Caro-Kann Krusher.” 1 e4 c6 2 d4 d5 3 f3!
Now there is a book on the move…
There are so many multifarious opening lines, yet top players continue to trot out the same ol’, same ol’…BORING!
Kevin plays the “passive” 5…exf6 in this game, which features double doubled pawns, and a Queen sacrifice!
Rea Bruce Hayes was born in Weston Ontario, Canada, on October 31, 1915. His first memory of chess was when he was taught to play at age eleven by a boy in the neighborhood. When he thought his friend was being inconsistent about the rules, Rea “read the article in the 11th edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica”. From that point on he was the teacher.
Rea joined the St. Clair Chess Club in Toronto and became its champion a few years later. This club later became the Canada Dairies Chess Club.
He moved to Greeneville, South Carolina in 1953 and won his first tournament at Columbia. One trophy was for being the South Carolina Open Champion, the other one was for being the highest scoring South Carolina resident. At the time, no one expected a resident to win the state tournament outright. In 1954, Rea was again the South Carolina Open Champion, but he only received one trophy this time.
While living in South Carolina, Rea tied for third with a 5-2 score in the 1953 Southern Open in Columbia. He finished in a foursome of 5.5-1.5 scores in the 1954 Southern Open in Atlanta and had to settle for fourth on tie breaks.
From South Carolina, Rea transferred to Chattanooga, TN for a two year period. Having just moved, he entered the 1955 Southern Open in Chattanooga and won the Southern Championship with a 6-1 score.
Rea lived the next 30 years of his life in Cincinnati, Ohio. There, he organized the Parkway Chess Club and the City League, a chess team competition. He revived the city championship which had been abandoned for years, winning both the city and club championship many times. For his efforts on behalf of the club, Rea is an honorary member.
In Ohio, the annual Ohio Championship was captured outright by Rea in 1963, winning with only one draw. Several other times, he tied for first in the event. The Region V Championship was his at least once. He was instrumental in organizing the Cincinnati Open, the second annual tournament in Ohio. He was also the president of the Ohio Chess Association. Rea was twice honored by his Cincinnati club, as Chessman of the Decade (1958-1968) and again when he left Cincinnati in 1987.
Before leaving Cincinnati, Rea retired from Union Central Life where he worked as an actuary. Rea visited New Zealand in 1980-1981. Playing chess with players in the Hastings area, one of them paid him the compliment of saying that if Rea lived there, he would be the second or third player in the country.
During 1981, he traveled to Sun City West in Arizona, to take part in the 1st US Senior Open tournament. Although ranked 7th of the eight upper section players, he won top honors. He conceded only one draw, to the player ranking below him. He also won the upset prize, a nice wristwatch, for beating the favorite, Eric Marchand.
Rea’s lasting legacy is being the first US Senior Champion. The Senior trophy now rests at the US Chess Hall of Fame in Washington DC with his name engraved first on the list of champions.
He moved to Chattanooga for the second time in 1990 and became a regular player at the tournaments in and around the state of Tennessee. In 1992, he entered the 46th Annual Tennessee Open in Oak Ridge and captured State Champion honors. He had three wins and three draws.
Since his coming to Chattanooga and the Chattanooga Chess Club, Rea fulfilled the role of Chessman of the Area. He served in almost every club capacity over the years, including president and newsletter editor. All of his contributions and accomplishment have prompted the Chattanooga Chess Club to elect him Life Member and hold an annual tournament in his honor.
The turnout at the 2018 Land of the Sky Chess tournament in the beautiful city of Asheville, in the Great State of North Carolina,
Sunset adds a warm glow to the mountains surrounding Asheville, North Carolina
hosted by Wilder Wadford for over a quarter of a century, was down considerably from the previous year, although it was comparable to the number of players in 2016. This century the number of players has consistently been between 160 and 260, so the official total of 173 is on the low end of the spectrum. Back in the day, meaning last century, LOTS drew as many as 300 participants. It is
difficult to get a handle on the turnout trend line because of the occasional inclement weather in the mountains (one year we were forced to stay Sunday night because the down hill driveway was covered with ice, making it impossible to traverse), but I do see that the 3-year running average shows it down considerably. For example, the three years after We The People were Bushwhacked, 2009-2011, show an average of 185; while the past three years show an average of 181. In comparison, 2012-2014 shows an average of 231. Inquires to my mountain friends, and others, as to possible reasons for the decline run the gamut. The prize fund has stayed the same for about a quarter of a century. There is no corporate sponsorship like in Europe, or even here in the states. I played in the Govornor’s Cup in Sioux Falls, South Dakota in 2002 and the community had gotten behind the tournament in a big way. Could it be that communities have turned off Chess? Another possible reason expressed is that the Land of the Sky tournament shows a large disparity between the young and the old, with not so many players between those ages. Another wrote, “Why should I spend all that money to go play chess when I can make hundreds of dollars staying at home teaching?” Although he has a point, the fact is that if everyone did the same there would be no more Chess tournaments, and, hence, no more students.
Another stated bluntly, “I think the major reason is Chess in the US is declining in general.” One player who did not attend offered this frightening reason, “Bacon, people are AFRAID OF NUCLEAR WAR, and are holding their cards close to the chest, afraid to go anywhere or spend any money.” One wrote, “You’re actually writing about the LOTS? Maybe there should have been more publicity before the tournament. You’re closing the barn door after the horse has escaped.” Lastly, “Chess is doomed!”
On to the games! The first game was played in the Under 2200 section. Gene Nix, the main man in Greenville, South Carolina, President, Greenville Chess Club, and Treasurer of the SC Chess Association, faced off with Randal Ferguson, who has fallen one point below NM. Randal has been out of action for almost a year and the rust showed. Some years ago he was a solid NM, and I say that from personal experience as I lost to him at least once and always thought of him as a strong player. The game was played Saturday morning at the “hurry up and get it over” speed.
I write this with a smile on my face, which is what Neal had on his face when informed that he had been given the moniker “Ol’ Swindler” by a disgruntled legendary Georgia Chess player who had lost to Neal in the same line, and in the same way, as he had previously, going down in flames quickly both times. The legendary one exclaimed, “That Neal ain’t nothing but an Ol’ Swindler!!!” Let that be a lesson to you; go over your losses so you do not lose that particular way again.
Alex Yerminator (2587) vs Ol’ Swindler (2209)
Round two
1. d4 d5 2. c4 dxc4 3. Nf3 Nf6 4. e3 e6 5. Bxc4 Nc6 6. Nc3 Bb4 7. a3 Bxc3 8. bxc3 O-O 9. a4 (This is a Theoretical Novelity) e5 (If a student had played this game Neal would, most probably, explained that white intends on playing Ba3 next, attacking the Rook on f8, so it would be advisible to move the Rook to e8 now in order to take the sting outta the Bishop move. I am far stronger when reviewing a game than when sitting at the board with the clock ticking. Hence, Armchair Warrior! Why would Neal play e5? My guess is that, being an aggressive type Ol’ Swindler, he wanted to come at the GM!) 10. Ba3 Re8 11. Ng5 Be6 12. Nxe6 fxe6 13. O-O e4 14. f3 Nd5 15. Qd2 Nb6 16. Ba2 exf3 17. Rxf3 Ne5 18. Rh3 Nec4 19. Bxc4 Nxc4 20. Qd3 Nxa3 21. Qxh7 Kf7 22. Rf1 Ke7 23. Qxg7 Kd6 24. Qe5 Kd7 25. Rh7 Kc8 26. Rff7 Rh8 1-0
The game of the tournament occurred in the third round. Pairings are everything in a short Swiss tournament and the Yerminator drew the short straw, being given the black pieces against the much younger, and stronger, GM Elshan Moradiabadi.
GM Elshan Moradiabadi (2613) vs Alex Yermolinsky (2587)
With only 18 players in the open section this draw made some kind of sense to the GMs. Ivanov is a Senior while Moradiabadi is at the peak of his career. Why bother playing a real game when they can shake hands and rest before the last round? Why indeed…
Alex Yermolinsky (2587) vs GM Alexander Ivanov (2568)
Round five
1. Nf3 Nf6 2. g3 b5 3. e3 a6 4. b3 Bb7 1/2-1/2
There oughta be a rule against crap like this. Oh wait, there is! It’s just that the organizer/TD with cojones enough to forfeit those who cheat Cassia has yet to be born! Alexander Ivanov
made ONLY TWELVE FORKIN’ MOVES on Sunday to steal his prize money. Pitiful…And Donnie gray had the audacity to ask, What’s the matter with draws? at at Chessbase. HERE IS YOUR ANSWER, DONNIE!!! (https://en.chessbase.com/post/what-s-the-matter-with-draws)
This left it up to Moradiabadi to play a real game of Chess in the last round while having the advantage of the white pieces facing a young man rated about 300 points, at least one class, maybe two, below him. Just another day at the office for the Grandmaster…
GM Elshan Moradiabadi (2613) vs Sanjay Ghatti (2341)
This left Moradiabadi with 4 1/2 points, a full point ahead of the two older GMs.Ivanov and Yermo left the beautiful western North Carolina mountains with $350 each. Elsan nabbed $880. Sanjay Ghatti and Mark Biernacki (2187), who beat NM Peter Bereolos (2244) in the last round, tied for ‘best of the rest’with 3 points, along with Neo Zhu (2142), who forced Benjamin Yan (1986) to take the dreaded blue pill in the final round. Because of the way things are done in Chess Biernacki and Zhu each won $220, while the higher rated Sanjay Ghatti left with only $180. To make things even worse for Sanjay his performance rating was 2376, better than both Biernacki (2323) and Zhu (2117). In addition, the latter two players had white in three games, while Mr. Ghatti had the black pieces three times; white only two. Who said Chess tournaments were fair? I would attempt to explain this to my international readers, but why bother? The inequities have been there for decades, or longer, and the will to improve things in the Chess world is simply not there…
In the hard fought Asheville section, for players under 2200, David High (2055) drew with Michael Kliber (1915) in the final round to tie for first, along with Alexander Rutten (1998), who became an Expert. Each scored 4 points. All scored $373. Four players each scored 3 1/2 points in the section. Three of the four garnered $147, while one fortunate son left with $280.
In the Buncombe section Benjamin Webb (1672) drew with Brian Lee Moore (1677) in the last round to finish clear first with 4 1/2 points. Mr. Webb won the second highest amount of money of all the winners of all the sections, taking home $560.
Brian joined Vladimir Besirovic, Asha Kumar, Eli Davis Moore, Lukas Komel, and last, but not least, my friend, fellow Senior, Bruce Goodwin, the Chess Cat, the man behind the Smoky Mountain Chess Club, with 4 points, to tie for second place in the section with the most players. Mr. Kormel won $280; Mr. Eli Davis Moore and Mr. Kumar each left with $220; while Brian Lee Moore and Vladimir Besirovic were lucky to leave with $93.
Armchair Warrior 