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WHY I’M GLAD I DON’T LIVE IN CALIFORNIA
Normally this space is reserved for the serious discussion of such burning
issues as: Did the airheaded Dixie Chicks think their political views
would seem more relevant if they posed nude on a magazine cover? How do
money-grubbing Delta executives sleep at night without falling off their
wallets? Does anybody really care what Al Sharpton thinks about
anything?
Let’s
hold those questions for a later time, please. This week, I want us to
focus on something positive, like why we are privileged to live in the
Great State of Georgia, and not some place like California. That epiphany
came to me during our recent earthquake. The quake was a big deal to us.
Earthquakes are so frequent in California that they don’t even make the
evening news unless San Francisco ends up somewhere in Mexico.
Personally, I like California. It pains me grievously when I think that
in addition to enduring earthquakes and irrelevant and self-important show
business weenies, the state doesn’t have two dimes to rub together. While
our political leaders were working to eliminate a $600 million deficit in
our state budget during the recent legislative session, California’s
deficit stood at $35 billion and increases at the rate of $21 million a
day. Imagine, every 29 days they grow the equivalent of our old
deficit. That is faster than we can grow kudzu.
If you
don’t find earthquakes and hemorrhaging money a compelling reason not to
live in California, you might want to consider this: The Great State of
Georgia is famous for the sweet Vidalia onion, Brasstown Bald, plenty of
affordable electricity and the exquisite little Georgia Sea Grill on St.
Simons Island. California has Berkeley, brownouts, Martin Sheen and
mudslides.
Our
state song, the hauntingly beautiful “Georgia on My Mind,” is a sacred
paean when sung by the legendary Ray Charles and the equally legendary
Willie Nelson. On the other hand, California’s most famous song is
“California, Here I Come,” which nobody ever sings – particularly Ray
Charles and Willie Nelson – because it isn’t a pretty song. Besides, the
whole premise is misleading. Who wants to come to a state that is $35
billion in debt and where earthquakes rearrange your furniture twice a
week?
Of
course, it isn’t all that easy to live in the Great State of Georgia
either. We have it so good that we tend to talk out loud about it too
much. When we do, people hear about what a great place this is and want
to move here. I don’t mean to be ugly, but in my opinion we have already
attracted too many outsiders who eat sushi and put butter on their
sandwich bread instead of mayonnaise. I firmly believe that God never
intended for human beings to eat raw eel and put butter on their sandwich
bread – certainly not in the Great State of Georgia.
Maybe
we would do better if we shared more of our wealth with our friends in
California. They could enjoy our beneficence and we wouldn’t have to
worry about them coming here and demanding more sushi bars. A good place
to start would be to send them the city of Atlanta. A lot of folks in
Georgia would enjoy being shed of Atlanta, and there is no doubt it would
raise the quality of life in both states. Before you get too excited,
remember that they already have Los Angeles, a city with bad air, sprawl
and too many cars. Getting them to take Atlanta off our hands may be a
tough sell. If the deal needs a sweetener, we can always throw in Jane
Fonda. Nobody deserves an earthquake more. But under no circumstance
will we share our barbecue, peaches, peanuts, corn-fried shrimp or Mark
Richt. Beneficence has its limits.
Before
somebody in California gets their Calvin Klein’s in a wad and tries to
break a bottle of overpriced Chardonnay on my head or threatens to make me
look at Susan Sarandon before she puts on her makeup, let me hasten to add
that despite all its problems, California does have at least one
outstanding quality in which the state can take great pride: It isn’t
France.
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