Revolution! Jot that down, there’ll be a quiz later. Back in the day there was this act by congress. The Civil Rights Act of 1964.


The Civil Rights Act of 1964 (Pub.L. 88–352, 78 Stat. 241, enacted July 2, 1964) is a landmark piece of civil rights legislation in the United States[5] that outlawed discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex, or national origin.[6] It ended unequal application of voter registration requirements and racial segregation in schools, at the workplace and by facilities that served the general public (known as “public accommodations“).

Pay close attention to the word, “schools” there. Ok, let’s peel the onion, shall we? Down the road, about ten years there was this case presented to the Supreme Court. One Lau v Nichols. You can click that link and learn all about it, but I’ll make it simple. There were these Chinese kids who didn’t quite get English in the school, and were therefore hindered in their education. Note the phrase above, “racial segregation in schools.” When a kid can’t learn subjects in school because he/she can’t understand what’s being said that’s “segregation.” So the court said, “Foul!” The kids need to be able to understand so they can receive an education equal to their English speaking classmates. Sounds good.

The theory was to teach English as a second language, with the assumption that if a child entered the first grade speaking only Chinese, by the time they reached, say, the fourth or fifth grade they would be able to understand at least enough English to make it. And it worked . . . for the Chinese! Remember the rule, no good deed will go unpunished. So it is with 414 US 563!

Go forward to Texas, and the Mexican school children happily rattling Spanish at home, and understanding nothing but lunch in school. SMU, in true liberal fashion, applied the ruling from Lau v Nichols to Mexican kids in Texas, and came up with a plan. They, like the educators in the California case, decided to teach the children in Spanish, while pushing them toward a proficiency in English. To effect this they brought in ladies (from Mexico) who could teach in Spanish. Oh, they were “qualified” to be teachers in Texas, green card and all, and they set to work. Peel the onion.

What we have here, is failure to communicate. In the Chinese culture there were two or three generations that were in the United States already, with no plans to go back to China. Ma Ma, Pa Pa, Grandmaw, and all the kids and grandkids. Child would be born, and grow up an American, but, until about the age of six all they’d hear around the house is Chinese. Hence, when getting on the big yellow bus they entered a new world. However, the Chinese attitude was that the child had to learn English if they were ever going to succeed in the American environment. While they celebrated Chinese New Year, they did it with an American flag.

That wasn’t the TexMex agenda. The imported “teachers,” while giving lip service to English instruction, made sure that the students (in Spanish) understood that they were Mexican, their heritage was Mexican, their flag was Mexican, and everything from Houston to L. A. had been stolen from them by all them there gringos who won’t give their fathers a decent paying job because they are MEXICAN! English was the language of the oppressors. In the end the kids fifty years later were no better off than the ones at the beginning, and this created an entire society of low wage earners, forming a separatist society, completely independent of the country they live in, longing for a future nation, not Mexico, not the US, but rather “Texico,” a third, independent nation, stretching from Texas to California with the dollar and the Peso on equal status. I Crappith Thee NOT!

Now these folks are irritated. Little trivia here, these guys are about 54% of the population of Texas alone. Vicente Fox, former president of Mexico, recently said that if Donald Trump is elected president of the US Mexico will go to war against the US. Don’t look at the border for the troops coming in, look behind you because they’re already here. Please note how Hillary is always all tangled up with the Mexicans. Also, remember when I told you about the clusters of the disenchanted Mexicans all around our bread basket states? Yeah. Um Hum. La RAZA! That means, “The Race,” by the way. Not “our” race, or “a” race, but the race, with community centers already set up and plans already lain for the complete domination for the south west, and the return of all those lands to the disenfranchised Mexican people who couldn’t give a damn about English. Revolution! When you see this transpire you’re gonna wish that wall was there. . . with machine guns.

The Battle of the Alamode


Yesterday I fought the battle of the Alamode. Embarked on a little field trip yesterday, and an effort to teach some Texas History to the grandkids. Therein lies madness. When I was nine I got on a trolley, went to downtown Shreveport, and watched John Wayne’s version of the Alamo. I know, I know, not historically accurate, and all that, but I still love that movie, in fact, to this day I still cry when the little girl in the end asks, “Where’s daddy, mommy?” When I was growing up in Texas, the history of the Lone Star State was mandatory! I was rather detached until I went on a high school trip to San Antonio during the Hemisfair, and actually saw the Alamo. I became a secessionist on that very day! I must have counted every stone in the building. Back in the day the Alamo had a “smell” to it that was a little bit like pepper. There was no air conditioning, but you could appreciate the wisdom of the old padres in the fact that it wasn’t really hot inside the chapel, which is really all that is left of the original mission.

So, yesterday we decided to take the kids down for the obligatory first trip to the shrine of Texas liberty. Let us pray! First off, my grandchildren are lazy. The Alamo sits on about a city block. There’s a parking lot right behind it, beside the Crockett Hotel, no, Davy Crockett didn’t stay there during the battle, that came later. Way back then it cost about a dollar to park there, but I quickly learned the price had been adjusted to account for Obamacare to twenty dollars.

So, we got all parked and began the walk around the back wall to the grounds. Unknown to me, the kids had understood the word, “Alamo” to be “Alamode,” and were slavering as we trekked around the wall. No Dairy Queen, no golden arches, just trees, and some old warehouse that they were not impressed with. Never one to be pushed back, I continued to herd the gang of five through the lawn toward the side where traditionally you could just walk around and go in the front door. Did I tell you the Daughters of the Republic of Texas lost control of the Alamo recently? Well, the first clue of this was the long line and barriers I found extending down the archways leading to the front of the building. You simply could not go that way, you had to get into line, and some nerdy guy would “allow” you to enter the chapel one at a time. I kissed Vickie Roberts under those arches back in ’68 for God’s sake! I had to go back around behind the building, and try to enter from the side door. NOT! People were being herded in a circle fashion from the front door, around to the rear and out. Like a Golden Corral. Oh, well, I’d just take the kids around to the front from the other side so they could at least see the famous front.

Did you know there is a little concrete ditch extending around the rear of the Alamo? Well, there is, and it has always had these rather large goldfish swimming in it. The first sign that something had gone terribly wrong was when I heard one of the twins, who are seven, yell, “CATFISH! CAAAAAAATFISH!” (Splash!) Oh, my bad, I forgot to tell you my grandchildren are white trash? The troops assaulting the mission in 1836 were more refined. We got past that with a simple wet jean, and a hoot of laughter from just about everyone, and proceeded to the front. I just knew that the very sight of the front of the Alamo would be an epiphany for the children. Well, it was an eye opener for me. Maybe I’m wrong, but it looked like someone may have sandblasted it because it had lost that pink glow it always had, and looked like the front of a Macy’s department store. And, of course, there was the line of Yankees, going in one at a time, not even aware that this was not the way it was supposed to be. Hesitantly, I checked for the Lone Star flag on the corner, and it was still there, but there was not an American flag on the front lawn. I don’t remember that.

We paraded the children to the front for the traditional photo shot. They stood there asking where the ice cream was. Then I took them to the monument in front. They were still scanning across the street for the Baskin Robins as I tried fruitlessly to explain the assault on the walls. Now, we are currently home schooling, but before that the children were at the mercy of the public school system. Not only did they not know what the Alamo was, they didn’t understand the word, “battle” because guns are so politically incorrect it can’t be stated that someone may have set off a firecracker during the Texas revolution.  As we retreated back to the car (do you like that word, “retreat?”) we made one last effort to expose the babies to at least some history by taking them into the museum that sits beside the chapel. When the Daughters of the Republic were booted out they took the stuff they had brought to the property with them, so in the courtyard where Travis drew his line in the sand there now sits a gift shop! By this time all the kids were dragging, and the little girl was complaining about wanting her iPad.

We slowly walked back to the car, keeping the twins away from the “catfish,” and hoping the New Baby wouldn’t decide to relieve himself on the rear of the chapel. The entire thing took less than an hour. I didn’t even circle around for one last look at the Shrine of United Nations skull doggery. We gonna do some history when we get home!

See The Dog Run

“When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school, it’s a wonder I can think at all!” So wrote Paul Simon back in the day, and things haven’t gotten much better. Public education is a little like having milk in a grocery store. You GOTTA have it, but you make money off of beer. I, myself, am a graduate of Killeen High School, conveniently located in Killeen, Texas, and that’s about as illiterate as it comes where they’ll still let you drive a car. The curriculum was quite focused, actually. They taught most of us to read, and naturally writing followed. Since we were all pretty much Texas white trash we already knew how to count. See, that comes from not having a whole lot of money so you don’t have to count very high. You HAD to take Texas history. Then there was health, which told us primarily how to avoid the clap, so I guess you could count that as sex education, too. Sex education, don’t get me started. You sit there for three hours teaching teens about sex WITH PICTURES, and then stand back in snake amazement when Suzy Sweetcheeks winds up pregnant.

If you persevered, and bought a gown you got to graduate. Now you didn’t KNOW anything. McDonalds was somewhere out in California so you had two choices; join the army, or try to find a job. The one percenters went to college, which only put off the inevitable because they didn’t learn anything there either. I studied geography in high school, but I knew the world was flat, because when people left Killeen they never came back. The ONLY thing I learned of any value was typing, and if you will notice I’m doing that NOW!

Schools have been graduating fools for years, myself being a perfect example thereof, but somewhere down the pike the school ma’arms figured out the route to adequate public funding was teaching students to pass tests. That and develop courses that have absolute nothing to do with life. In that respect maybe sex education has a place in that you can go out and at least SELL that! Now all this sounds pretty primitive, but let me clue you in, the kids are still learning nothing in school, only faster because now they have computers!

So how do we fix this? Well, first we need to look at what education is for. Education is supposed to prepare you to go out and make a living. That’s it! Come off that stage, take off that gown, go over to Stan’s garage, and start fixing cars. If you fix enough cars, and do it well, you progress from eating hot dogs to eating steak. Back in my day the kid who dropped out and helped his dad lay roofing was far better off than I was with my diploma. Matter of fact Willie, a friend of mine, learned how to plumb, and had just enough schooling to read the state plumbing exam and become a master plumber.

The aspiration of a college degree is all very fine, and I suppose there’s a place for that, but that kid with a degree is basically no better off than I was, and far below Willie with his little Roto Rooter when it came to acquiring that steak. Willie got the prettiest girl, too! Where did I get this revolutionary idea? Mr Cole, my civics teacher who told my class that very few of us would ever darken the door of a college, and those that did would most likely never graduate.

Once you teach a kid to read, and understand what is being read your job is ninety percent done. Over the years vocational training has been stigmatized as teachers point students to stars they will never reach. Shop class, automotive class, and dare I say it, homemaking, should be staples, not second choices. And this Common Core crap is just that . . . CRAP! Take THAT to an IRS audit and see how things work out for you. I did NOT learn how to write in school. I learned to write by reading what others wrote years later. I really didn’t need sex education either, but I did like the pictures.

With the Internet, and faster and faster communication the old idea of schooling is becoming a dinosaur. My eight year old granddaughter, Puck, is more literate than I was when Dr. Ellison handed me that diploma back in 1969. She HAD to learn to read in order to text! She had to learn her numbers because she is diabetic and ingredients and amounts are critical to her survival. She taught HERSELF! While her teachers were teaching her to “see the dog run” Puck was reaching for understanding what Trans Fats were and how many different ways “sugar” could slip into what she was about to eat. My other granddaughter, Kylie, donated time in a doctor’s office. She had to get her high school diploma because they wouldn’t let her into Arizona State University without it, but she KNOWS what she will do with her life, and will play their silly game until she buys that steak.

Kids aren’t dumb, but they can be “dumbed down” by a system designed to train them to fake their way through a test without ever understanding what the words really meant. The system makes it easy to grade tests. What about, instead of a multiple choice question about what IS Obamacare, how about explain Obamacare in your own words and the teacher has to read and UNDERSTAND what the student wrote! Learning can be a two way street, but until then, “See the dog run!”