H. Neal Glanville: ‘Debate’ not the right word | CraigDailyPress.com

H. Neal Glanville: ‘Debate’ not the right word

H. Neal Glanville

It just gets worse.

Ever since the infamous Nixon-Kennedy debates, we – yes, we – have allowed the mass marketing of candidates to be rammed down our collective throats.

We sit comatose, watching two people “debate” (that poor word has been raped beyond any recognition). Each candidate spends their allotted time smiling and sucking up to the commentator/moderator, blaming the other for everything that’s wrong, and how they didn’t have anything to do with it, ’cause they were just standing there when it happened.

As the “debate” winds down, they drag in their wives, husbands, kids and dog, and if they thought it would suck us in any deeper, out would come their third cousin twice removed. The one who found Bigfoot and the lizard-shaped potato chip. When they finally leave the stage, the uninitiated think it’s over – poor souls. We are besieged by the “media experts,” who explain why we didn’t understand a single thing we just saw or heard. : But they will take time from their busy, busy day and tell us what the candidate actually meant and what we really, truly need to know.

Gosh, I feel so warm and cozy, just knowing that there are people out there who are so much smarter than the rest of us.

All they want to do is help us make the right decision, so the rest of the boys can take care of us.

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Golly, I need some cookies and warm milk.

Forget all the icky, gooey stuff coming out of the boob tube. It doesn’t matter who’s wearing the prettiest clothes or can say the same thing 78 different ways. What’s needed is : wait for it : here it comes : common sense. The best man for any job is the man who can fix the worst mistake.


While we’re tickling the belly of the icky, gooey, I now shall perform Amendmentitis. (Will small children and cats please turn away?)

To attempt this feat, I shall need volunteers from the audience. There, that couple in the third row oblivious to everything but themselves. You’ll do nicely.

Now, read through each amendment at least twice. Yes, ma’am, from beginning to end.

If it’s still confusing, talk with someone who’s for the amendment, and then – and this is important – talk to another person who’s against it.

Now, close your eyes, and yup, you just made the right decision – your own.

Things to do in Craig

I’d like to introduce a pretty much when-I-want feature of the column: Secret things to do in Craig.

(But if you take part in any of these to-do’s, you may tell anyone you want.)

How about some laughing, crying, yelling, screaming, kissing, hugging, running back and forth like a smiling chicken?

I give you pee wee football.

Come watch our kids (in my case, grandkids) march up and down the fields of honor at Woodbury Park. You’ll soon be cheering, laughing and meeting new people, who, like you, need a few moments to shake off the crud of adulthood. What better way than watching kids have fun?

Stories for the future

Throughout the “act like a grownup” period of my life (it began when I was 20-something), there’s been one person – one constant thread of reality – whom I’ve held onto. The times I’ve made stupid choices, he’s been there nudging me back in line.

When those choices have gone beyond the planet Stupid, even when he swore I was dumber than a spit on rock, he stood there shoulder-to-shoulder, step-for-step nudging.

He’s gone far beyond being just a friend. He’s my uncle, and my brother-in-law, but most importantly, the older brother I’ve always needed.

His name? Roy Southard, a man of dignity and honor.

After I check with various law enforcement agencies about statutes of limitations, I shall recall some of the adventures we shared.

Until next time :

There I was, surrounded on the left by carpetbaggers. So I said to myself, “Self,” I said, cuz that’s what I call myself when I’m talking to myself, “you need to tell these people: It’s easy to accept less, when you already have nothing.”

Fish on.

Thank you for your time.