Rats. It looks as though I have not been selected to be a member of Gov.-elect Nathan Deal’s transition team. Frankly, this is getting old. I am told that both Roy Barnes and George E. Perdue didn’t pick me when forming their administrations because they both thought my advice wasn’t worth a jar of warm spit. That may be the only thing the two men ever agreed on.
I note with interest that former State Rep. Chip Pearson of Dawsonville is a member of the Deal transition team. Pearson, along with Senate Majority Leader Chip Rogers, R-Woodstock, fought hard last session for a bill to keep somebody – I’m not quite sure who – from being able to place microchips on our body parts without our permission. Their good works will ensure that when I have to go to the potty everybody on Mars won’t know about it.
Since our Ambassador to Outer Space Cynthia McKinney is currently vacationing on Pluto, Mr. Pearson seemed the most logical person to represent our extraterrestrial interests in Georgia.
I am not the only one who has been snubbed. I was surprised that there are no Hispanics on the team, which means there is no one to represent all the people who sneak into the state and attend our schools, birth their babies in our hospitals, don’t vote and want us to learn to speak Spanish, instead of their learning to speak English. Based on the number of apoplectic apologists who raise infierno with me every time I mention the subject, there are plenty of partisanos from which to choose. (I feel sure this comment alone will get me more than enough candidates to pass along to the transition team.)
Dr. Gil Watson, the world’s greatest preacher, was also overlooked. Maybe Nathan Deal believes he can make it rain in Georgia whenever he wants. Governors tend to think that way. But Gov. George E. Perdue discovered first-hand he couldn’t make it rain a drop and had to call on Dr. Gil to do the job. We all know what happened then. Even atheists were mildewed when he got through praying. God likes Dr. Gil very much and is more apt to listen to him than to a politician. God isn’t crazy about politicians. Or atheists.
F. Duane Ackerman, the former CEO of the former BellSouth Corporation isn’t on the team, either. Former Atlanta Mayor Bill Campbell once told me that Mr. Ackerman was one of the few business people he listened to. When I said publicly that “his honor” didn’t listen to anybody and was a disaster in the making, Mr. Ackerman said publicly I was full of doo-doo. Mayor Campbell later ended up ironing shirts in a federal pokey after being convicted of tax evasion. Mr. Ackerman ended up losing my alma mater BellSouth to the “new” AT&T, which I thought was doo-doo. If Gov.-elect Deal wants to know how much starch to put in his shirts before ironing, I would strongly recommend Mayor Campbell’s principal advisor, F. Duane Ackerman.
While the new administration has said all the right things about promoting small business in Georgia, they missed a great opportunity to get the input of Skeeter Skates, owner of Skeeter’s Tree Stump Removal and Plow Repair in Greater Metropolitan Pooler. In retrospect, that may not have been a bad move on the transition team’s part. Skeeter is prone to say whatever is on his mind. He has told me on several occasions that the dullest plow blade he ever saw was sharper than any politician he ever met. I don’t think the governor-elect’s advisors would appreciate Skeeter’s candor.
There are quite a few lobbyists on the Deal transition team, but that should not be a cause for concern. Lobbyists serve a useful role in the political process just as dung beetles have an important function in our ecosystem. There are remarkable similarities between lobbyists and dung beetles with the notable exception that lobbyists dress better than dung beetles. Dung beetles, however, dress better than the Capitol press corps so it all evens out.
Even though I didn’t get asked to be a part of the transition team, I have no doubt Gov. Deal will be seeking me out for my views on important matters of state when the going gets tough. I just hope he doesn’t ask me how much starch to put in his shirts. There are some things even I don’t know.
You can reach Yarbrough at firstname.lastname@example.org or P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta, Georgia 31139.