Before you get all bent out of shape about the title, yes I know it's called the Golden Globes. But for Ol’ Dutch, it's more of a glob or blob. Let's just say I am not impressed by the glitz, glamor, fake personalities, horrific lifestyles or even the movies that they put out. They lose me at the trailers before the movie even starts. 

The Golden Globes Award Show is a presentation of awards for the best actors and actresses in television and movies for the year. And so it draws out all the Hollywood elite and not so elite and they strut around and crow like a proud banty rooster at Mr. Green Jeans farm with a passel of hens to impress. The men all wear a black tuxedo's and the women compete to see who can show off the most cleavage and other body skin without being censored by the network. Which is kind of ridiculous as most of them have bared it all for magazines, Internet, movies and television programs already. And Miss Trixie makes Ol’ Dutch suffer through it every year but at least I have learned how to turn off my headset. Don't tell her please.  

My grandfather had a name for those kinds of people that see themselves as the “elite”. He called them the “swells.” I remember hearing this my entire life and really had no idea what he meant. So one day, after he had called someone a “swell” Ol’ Dutch just came right out and asked him what he meant. He related to me that those are the type of people who think they are just “swell” or better than other people. He was never one to lord it over any other person and he and my grandmother were the proverbial salt of the earth Western Kansas people. Having been born and raised in Dodge City, Kansas, he was drafted into WWI and served in France during The Great War. Such was the terror of that experience over there that when he got back to Kansas he never wanted to live anywhere else for the rest of his life and he didn't.  

I can recall working in Western Kansas in the little burgs scattered across the prairie like so many tumbleweeds, and one thing I learned right off is that those people are friendly. My grandfather said the towns were so far apart the jackrabbits carried backpacks and canteens. My dad, Fast Freddy, said that the people were so friendly because they were just plain lonely for conversation being so few in number amongst themselves. I don't know about that but to this day if you work out in that vastness, they will stop you on the street just to “visit.” 

And that kind of “visiting” is a lost art today as people are just too busy to sit and talk to a friend, neighbor, pastor, kids, spouse, family or anyone for that matter. We used to go out to visit the grands in Dodge every weekend and our families would gather round and just sit and talk. My mother's family including cousins, aunts and uncles and her mother would all sit around the small living room and all talk at once. I am not sure how they did it but they seemed to enjoy it. It wasn't the conversation that was so important but just being together that mattered most. 

We did have one cousin that was a “swell” in fact but they never put on airs around my grandparents and treated all of us with respect and love and kindness so there is that I guess.  

Writing this with the television flashing in the background, I am reminded just how many people really do worship or revere celebrities or other elites. You can always tell from their gushing accolades about them for being rich, I guess.  

Ol' Dutch does appreciate good talent, don't get me wrong. But I also am one of the ones that knows that they put their pants on the same as you and I do each and every day. They sleep and eat and shower just like you and I mostly. although some of them are known for not taking showers or baths for weeks on end.  

I guess that would make them a “smell” instead of a “swell” and would be another reason to maybe just keep my distance from them. 

Kevin Kirkpatrick spends his days fishing, hunting, ATVing, hiking or making people laugh. His email is Kevin@TroutRepublic.com. Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com or on Twitter at TroutRepublic.