Walter Patterson Herald ColumnistFor several months, I have been warning that the presidential race is going to get ugly. If you follow the liberal media, it already has.
A Yahoo News executive was heard saying this about Mitt Romney at the Republican Convention last week: “Romney’s happy to have a party when black people drown.” David Chalian spoke these hateful words into an ABC open microphone. He was referring to hurricane Isaac and its track to hit New Orleans.
Yahoo fired him, as they should have, but the damage was done. These are the types of reporters covering the Republican Convention for the mainstream press. All are liberals. Most of them have little are no journalistic training, and most of them have been educated at liberal northeastern schools.
The Democrat Party and their colleagues in the press all prayed that Isaac would force the Republicans to call off their convention.
If you noticed the weather forecasts, you noticed that this storm was made to sound much worse than it actually was. Hurricanes have been hitting the Gulf Coast for thousands of years, yet Isaac was going to be the worst storm ever and the human suffering and deaths were going to be so great that no sensitive person, no humanitarian, no Christian could do anything but meekly submit to the weather. One headline even read: “Has Isaac ruined the Republican Convention?
Most of us can readily see why the Democrats wanted Isaac to prevent the Republican Convention from happening.
Even the most naïve among us know that if we stay on the present economic course, we are going to go over the “financial cliff.” Paul Ryan addressed this point eloquently Wednesday night when he gave his acceptance speech for Vice-President of the United States. “We don’t have much time,” he warned.
Should the United States go over the “financial cliff,” the amount of suffering by our people will be unequaled in the history of our country. There will be no entitlement programs like Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, or food stamps. Banks will close. Most businesses will shut down. Cities and towns will be unable to pay their employees.
Things that we take for granted today will suddenly become luxuries. There will be riots in America’s largest cities because there will not be enough food to feed the people. Transportation will grind to a stop. Medical care will be non-existant.
The U. S. Government is presently training troops to deploy to urban areas to put down riots and control the masses of hungry people.
Agencies like Homeland Security and The Social Security Administration are buying huge amounts of ammunition, not for target practice or to train their officers, but to use against the populace when the ‘financial cliff’ finally consumes our economy.
The Republicans have a plan.
Unlike Barack Obama whose plan is to give us more of the same, Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan have an economic plan that will save our country from certain economic collapse.
Every week, new unemployment numbers come out, and each week, 375,000 of our fellow citizens lose their jobs.
Without a strong economy, this nation cannot reach its potential. Without a strong economy, our citizens cannot reach their full potential. Obama’s “big government” model will not work and cannot work. Only free market capitalism can save America from the ‘financial cliff,’ and this is a point not understood by Mr. Obama or his fellow Democrats. The re-distribution of your wealth is their only rallying point.
The last four years have not been kind to Americans. Obama and his socialists’ policies have steadily choked the economy down, and now, 23 million Americans are out of work.
With no accomplishment in his resume, Obama and his party must go negative – ugly, and lie. Without immediate change, as Paul Ryan stated Wednesday night, our great country will become a reflection of Greece, Spain, Italy, and the United Kingdom. “Are you better off today than you were four years ago? Absolutely not.
That is why it is time for a change in Washington. Romney and Ryan look like a good start.
Jason Patterson Editor & PublisherWard 4 Alderman Aubry Brent Jr. appears to be the only elected official in Yazoo City with the courage to address the issue of the threat of pit bulls in this community.
Ineffective politicians are often reluctant to act on issues that might upset some of their constituents. This is one of those issues.
Much like walking around with your pants hanging halfway to your knees, having a mean looking pit bull on a chain has become an increasingly obnoxious trend. The obvious difference is that sagging pants are just offensive and gross. Pit bulls can (and may) hurt or even kill you.
Don’t take my word for it. Let’s look at some recent headlines:
Aug. 28, 2012
“Vicious pit bull attacks on two children in separate incidents spark calls for a ban.”
– British Columbia
Aug. 27, 2012
“Deputies say an 84-year-old man was injured when a pit bull attacked him while he was mowing his lawn. Julius Arwich had dog bites on the head, neck, arms and legs and lost a tremendous amount of blood during the attack.
– Cheifland, Fla.
Aug. 7, 2012
“A pet owner was arrested after his off-leash pit bull dog attacked a U.S. Park Police officer’s horse at Crissy Field.”
– San Francisco, Calif.
June 15, 2012
Eight-year-old Ymanii Wright, badly mauled last month by a pit bull in the Old Hill neighborhood, returned to school last week for the first time since the horrific attack. She required more than 400 stitches to close wounds on her arms and legs and endured hours of surgery following the attack
– Springfield, Mass.
May 15, 2012
A woman walking with her daughter was attacked by three pit bulls. The mother stood between her daughter as the animals bit her lower body.
– Riverside, Calif.
April 26, 2012
Sitting on her grandmother's couch nine days after a pit bull attacked her on the street and bit her more than 100 times, 8-year-old Lyric Jones breathed deeply and hung her head. She recalled how fearful she was that the dog would kill her.
– Convington, La.
This is just a sample of news items. There are many, many more.
I pray that there is never a news article like one of these in The Yazoo Herald, but the odds are that there will be.
There is a serious problem in this city with pit bulls that are not adequately secured. We’ve had to deal with the problem of a pit bull running loose right here on our own doorstep. Numerous others have complained about close calls. Our city leaders know the problem exists, but they have failed to take action.
City attorney Sarah O’Reilly Evans brought examples of ordiances from other cities months ago that offered reasonable measures to protect the public. All the board had to do is copy the parts of those ordinances that they liked.
A good ordinance would simply set guidelines that would protect the public. Requirements on the type of pen or fencing are clear needs, and I suggest adding a liability insurance requirement.
People who want to own dogs that have a reputation for being dangerous should have to assume the responsibility of protecting their neighbors.
So far that’s been too much to ask in Yazoo City.
When it came time to speak up for the people on Monday, Mr. Brent was the only one who found his voice.
Walter Patterson Herald ColumnistJay Carney, the inept press secretary for President Obama, took a dig at Sarah Palin last week.
He implied that she was stupid, ill-informed, bucolic, and lacking in experience. Now one has to laugh at this because his boss, Obama, is the most inexperienced politician in the history of this country. Carney spouts the liberal lines every chance he gets. But this is to be expected. When he worked as a political reporter, he spouted the same liberal lines.
I had a very good friend of mine who was very intelligent and erudite. I once asked him why he didn’t get into politics. His answer shocked me.
“I was ruined for politics by my mom and dad.” This seemed like a strange answer, so I probed further. “My mom and dad instilled in me a code of ethics. Every time I’m tempted to do something untoward, I can hear my mom or dad explaining to me why I shouldn’t do it. They’ve been dead for many years, yet I can still hear them saying, “If you lie, you’ll eventually have to tell another lie to cover it up. If you steal, you’ll eventually get caught. If you treat people without respect, you will get disrespect in return. You can’t fool all the people all the time. Go to church and listen to what the preacher says. You will learn something every time you go.”
As he talked, I could hear my own mom and dad giving me the same sermon. I, also, remembered some times when my brother and I got into trouble.
I think my dad hated a lie the most. He spanked me four times when I was growing up, and the one I remember most is the time I lied about hoeing the watermelons.
We had a huge watermelon patch, and before dad left for work, he informed Buddy and me that he wanted the watermelons hoed. The grass was growing pretty fast, and unless we took a hoe and chopped out the grass, weeds would eventually take over the entire watermelon patch. After breakfast, Buddy and I grabbed our hoes and headed for the patch. It was warm and the birds were chirping. The air was moist and clean, and it was just wonderful to be alive.
About the time we reached the first row of melons, Buddy had a brilliant suggestion. I must admit that little brother was the clever one in the family, so I often listened to what he had to say. “Before we hoe the garden,” he began, “let’s go for a swim.”
So we dropped our hoes and headed for the pond. We jumped in and swam all the way to the opposite bank. When we climbed out of the pond, we heard voices coming from a pond about a quarter of a mile away. The voices belonged to Edward and W. A. Collins. We joined up, and spent the rest of the day swimming and in general goofing off.
Before long, the sun began to sink in the west and Buddy and I soon realized that dad would be home soon. We hurried home just in time to see his car drive up. “Boys, did you finish hoeing the watermelons?” were the first words out of his mouth.
Thinking that he would not go to the field and inspect I replied, "Yes, sir." We did.”
Bad mistake. He stopped by a willow tree and cut the switch.
As many of you know, willow limbs bend, but they don’t break. I quickly discovered that my back side could not endure what dad was dishing out, so I resolved at that moment never to tell him another lie.
When he finished, he calmly said, “Boys, I’m not whipping you because you didn’t hoe the watermelons. I’m whipping you because you lied to me.”
The Democrats and Mr. Obama have begun one of the most hideous lying campaigns in American history all to preserve their power. It isn’t working. The American people can see this administration for what it is, and I sincerely believe that the principles of ethics laid down by my mom and dad are still valid. Most people want the truth, and the truth is that the Democrats have no plan for saving our economy. Jay Carney is just the tip of the iceberg. The entire administration is ethically challenged, and in the near future, judgment will come.
November 6 is sure to arrive, and the American people may have a sack of willow switches waiting for someone. Clue: I don’t think it will be Romney and Ryan.d
Jamie Patterson Managing EditorIt was a typical morning at the Patterson home.
My husband Jason and I were carrying both our kids in our arms and balancing book bags, diaper bags, laptop computers and other things on our arms.
We danced around our dog for a few minutes who was hoping our son James would drop his Pop Tart. That same Pop Tart caused a wrestling match with the kids seconds earlier.
Throwing children’s car seats into different vehicles and grabbing tissues for that last minute face cleaning, it dawned on me that I had left our daughter Elsie’s blanket on the kitchen counter.
“Just buckle them in,” I said, handing Jason an assortment of bags. “I’ll go get the blanket.”
Running back inside, I almost fell because my foot got tangled on a fishing line that James had left in the yard.
“Why can’t we just put things up,” I asked, kicking the line off my leg.
“Watch out for that line; James was practicing his fishing techniques,” Jason yelled back.
Great timing, I thought as I rushed inside to get Elsie’s pink blanket.
Jason stood outside my truck, waiting on me to get back. Slamming the door and locking up, I made my way down the porch steps.
And then it happened.
A bee, who was sitting atop a flower, thought going up my dress would be a better place to fly.
I started screaming uncontrollably. Jason probably thought I was doing a dance because I ran over to him, kicking my legs. I was grabbing my skirt and jerking it from side to side, hoping to shake the bee loose.
James just watched from his window. Elsie continued to nibble on a piece of Pop Tart she stole from her brother at the last minute.
And what did my sweet, loving husband do? Did he come to my assistance? Did he try to save me from the bee who probably had his stinger ready to attack? Did he even approach me at all as I was riverdancing in front of him?
No, he did not.
“What’s wrong with you,” he asked.
I finally saw the bee escape, and I was able to catch my breath.
“I had a bee go up my dress,” I screamed.
“That wasn’t a bee,” he said. “It was a tall piece of grass, brushing past your leg.”
But the bee was sitting right there on a flower.
“There he is,” I said, pointing to the monster. “See? He’s right there.”
“Just get in the truck,” Jason said. “Screaming like that, the whole neighborhood is gonna hear you.”
I stomped to the driver’s side and slammed my door. The whole neighborhood will hear me, I thought to myself.
I can’t believe he made that statement. He’s the same guy who turns our backyard into a war zone when he is spraying wasp nests down.
Do the neighbors not hear him shouting the number of wasps he kills ?
He’s also the same guy who spends more time hammering, sawing and making all sorts of noises on the next “home project.”
Do the neighbors not hear him shouting orders to James about nails, lumber and moving toys out of the way?
And he’s the same guy who treats our road like a parade route when he gets his first buck during deer season.
Do the neighbors not hear him when he honks his horn a hundred times coming up the driveway? Do they not hear him when he shouts, “I got the big one” or when his brother barrels up the driveway next to see if it’s true? Or when they spend the rest of the day trading insults or boasting about who is the superior hunter?
But my simple whimper about a killer bee needs to be “toned down a little.”
The neighborhood will just have to put up with it. If a stinging insect gets near me, I will shout, kick and scream.
I’m sure there are other women down the road who understand what’s going on.
Because when winter comes and the sounds of guns are heard in the distance, our little neighborhood better get ready for the horn honkings, the bragging and the parade of trucks.
Or when the next saw cranks up or hammer starts pounding.
Or when all the insect nests have been destroyed and he moves on to declaring war on a visiting armadillo that’s tearing up the yard.
I’ll just have to remind the boys to “tone it down.”
Jason Patterson Editor & PublisherIt was still dark when I made that long walk down the driveway to catch the school bus for the first time.
The driver, Mrs. Johnston, lived nearby so I was one of the first ones to get on and among the last to get off the bus.
It was a little intimidating the first time those big yellow doors swung open, and I climbed the steps to take my first ride to school.
Thirty years later I can still remember it clearly.
Maybe she could see that I was a little nervous, because the sweet lady sitting a few seats back asked me if I wanted to sit next to her.
I gladly accepted her offer, and after a few minutes of conversation I felt right at home. Pretty soon more kids were getting on the bus, and I realized this little ride to school was really no big deal.
I saw her again at lunch time, and she didn’t say anything when I came back for seconds on the first day. My teacher had to explain to me later that this wasn’t like home. You weren’t supposed to go back for another helping.
But Mrs. Veazey didn’t mind, and throughout my 12 years of education at Benton Academy she’d always slip some extra French fries on my plate or give me a larger portion of something she knew I really liked.
Back in those days I could use the extra calories. That doesn’t seem to be a problem for me anymore.
For Christmas she would make little ornaments for students. I’m not sure if everyone got one or if I was just among a special group. Mrs. Veazey had a way of making you feel special every time you talked to her.
When I was a senior on my last day of high school, I was told to report to the cafeteria. I had no idea why I was being summoned, and I wondered if maybe I still owed some money or something.
When I arrived Mrs. Veazey surprised me with a gift and reminded me of that first time we sat together on the school bus. I couldn’t believe she still remembered that after so many years.
That really touched me, and although I wasn’t really in the habit of sharing my feelings, I told her so.
Jesse Veazey died Monday at age 71. There is no telling how many kids she served with a smile during her career or how many greasy beef tacos or fried chicken sandwiches were made with loving hands.
When I learned of her passing Tuesday morning, so many memories came back.
I wonder if people like Mrs. Veazey realize how much they touch the lives of others through simple acts of kindness. I wonder if they know how much better the world is because of their presence.
We should all probably do a better job of telling them.