Praying For Johnson City
If you haven’t noticed, our little “Mayberry” is changing.
For those not old enough to remember, Mayberry was the fictional community in the 60’s “The Andy Griffith Show” which served as a metaphor for the perfect place to live. As far as I’m concerned, Johnson City still is, but the big city is creeping in along with its problems.
Several years ago, an Airstream dealer next to the Pedernales River was busted for “theft by deception” and was wanted in Arizona for the kidnaping and sexual assault of a child. Also, some just-passing-through people from California were busted with 103 pounds of marijuana in their car by the JCPD.
Still, our city is pretty great. According to AreaVibes, a website that helps people find the best places to live in America, the overall crime rate in Johnson City is 62% lower than the Texas average. Our livability score is 76 which ranks 79% higher than other areas.
Yet Austin is getting ever nearer from the East with Alamo City creeping in from the south. With big city growth comes big city problems. I know. I used to live in the land of the knuckleheads. This little utopia may not last forever, but I do know how we can stave off the inevitable, for perhaps a few more years. But we all must do our part and it doesn’t involve building a wall on Highways 290 and 281, nor do we need to load our deer rifles with extra rounds. We certainly don’t have to panic either. The solution?
Got Vaxxed 2 Months Ago! Ain’t Dead Yet.
I GOT MY 2ND MODERNA SHOT two months ago and my face hasn’t melted, I haven’t died in my sleep and the start of the zombie apocalypse has been postponed.
I didn’t get vaxxed because I was scared, believed Biden, Fauci or the rest of the mainstream news media.
It wasn’t because I believed it was the greatest health threat of our time.
It wasn’t even because my daughters pressured me to do so. I had a much more important reason for getting “the mark of the beast.”
I always looked askance at the whole contrived media distortion of the virus itself and felt the odds of me dying from it were akin to getting hit by lightning while being eaten by a shark.
I always thought masks were stupid, didn’t work, and felt the whole controversy was a big lie to get the Bad Orange Man out of office.
So why did I get the vaccine since it ain’t really a vaccine anyway? After all, my face might melt, my gonads could explode, and my progeny will end up playing dueling banjoes somewhere in the northwest Georgia wilderness.
Facebook “friends” warned that I would suffer blood clots, heart attack or depletion of my platelets. I’d most likely contract some strange immunological disorder, or have a stroke and die.
Or worse.
Read More