If you aren’t an Internet expert, like me, then perhaps you did not know that there are about a bazillion places online where you can listen to music.
Specific music.
Like spring of 1964 music.
Like George Jones music.
Top hits of 1971 music.
You get the idea.
It’s one of the reasons why I love Saturday mornings in the office. I can select something to go with whatever mood I’m in and next thing you know, viola! I’m be-bopping along with the Big Bopper and wondering exactly what Chantilly lace is when –
BAM!
A giant fist hit my door sending shock waves from the top of the ceiling to the lower valve on my aorta.
“Just checking to see if you’re awake, Timmons,” rumbled the deep voice of the mountain of a man named John Hammer. Somehow, this giant manages to make his way into a locked office and scare the living Crayola’s out of me.
“Punching my door, John?” I managed while trying to catch my breath – and restart my heart. “Are you kidding me! Why don’t you just shoot me with a cattle prod next time!”
“You don’t shoot anything with a cattle prod,” he said.
“What? You damn near kill me and you want to argue semantics?”
If I didn’t know better I’d say he was smirking.
For those who don’t know John, he wanders by every now and then. I used to think he wanted to share some piece of wisdom that men like him have – full of common sense and about as politically correct as Dana Loesch at an AOC rally. Now I’m starting to think he just enjoys putting a little fear of the Lord in the unsuspecting . . . namely, me.
“Timmons, I’ve decided I’m going to vote for the Democrat in the next presidential election.”
I was stunned. Not only is Hammer a conservative, but he’s never had much good to say about Democrats.
“Hear me out,” he says. “I want to make a deal.
“The thing is, the country is going to pot,” he said. “Politics is completely whacko. Most of the hired hands in Washington aren’t working for America. They’re working for their party. And don’t tell me one side or another is better. Republicans spend their time trying to step on the necks of the Democrats and the Democrats are doing the same to the Republicans.
“If someone brings up an idea, their party supports it no matter how bad it is; and no matter how good it is the other party tries to kill it. It is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen in all my years.”
“Yeah, OK, John,” I tried. “But this isn’t anything new. You and I have had this talk. Lots.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” he said. “I’m willing to make a deal. Let the Democrats nominate whoever they want. I don’t care. I’ll vote for ‘em and for the next four years, or eight, or however long they are there, I won’t utter a single negative word about them or their party. I will salute the flag and the office. If I don’t like something, I’ll talk to the Missus about it at home but I won’t say a word in public. The only way we’re going to get this turned around and going back in the right direction is to stop shooting at each other,” he said, his voice rising in volume. “So if it takes giving up the top office for a few years to turn it around, I’m willing to do it.”
I had to give it to him. Even if it was completely unworkable, it was an interesting concept. After all, sacrifice has been the bedrock of what Americans do since the 1770s.
“OK, John. I’m not sure how you would get all Republicans to agree, but what if the Democrats nominate Joe Biden?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Pete Buttigieg?”
“OK.”
“Kamala Harris?”
“Fine.”
“Alright, John. What if the Democrats nominate Hillary again?”
Hammer’s big ol’ paw slammed the door as he stormed out. “You media guys screw everything up!”

Two cents, which is about how much Timmons said his columns are worth, appears periodically on Wednesdays in The Paper. Timmons is the publisher of The Paper and can be contacted at ttimmons@thepaper24-7.com.