Waking in a cold sweat I quickly recapped the dream before it could fade from memory. What was it that frightened me out of my slumbers? Ah, there it was, Joe Biden in drag. Aaagh!
There he was, standing next to Barack Obama, who had a big cigar between his fingers and a big smile on his face. He said, “Say goodnight Joey.” When Joe replied it was with the voice of Gracie Allen, “Goodnight Joey.”
When I stopped trembling I tried to analyze the dream. I blame it on listening to a collection of Joe Biden outtakes and having a glass of cornbread and buttermilk just before bed. No more Biden outtakes for me – not that late at night.
But I got to thinking. This pair really does remind me of some of the famous entertainment duos. Can’t you hear Joey speaking with the gravel voice of Pat Butram, “wayl Mr. Artery whadawe do now?” Or with the mush-mouth accents of Gabby Hayes, “Gol-durn it Roy, you cain’t let them bushwackers get away with that.”
Well, I was awake anyway so I spent the rest of the night playing the game of putting Biden’s head on the body of some comic sidekick and listening to him deliver his gaffes in the various voices while Obama played Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, George Burns and others; always trying patiently to go forward with the serious business while inexplicably tolerating the foolishness of his chosen pal. It was a lot of fun – try it.
There was Martin and Lewis, Laurel and Hardy, Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, Desi and Lucy – aagh theres that disturbing image that woke me in the first place. A couple of my favorites were Leo Carillo as Pancho saying, “Oh Ceesco” and Duncan Renaldo as The Cisco Kid replying, “Oh Pancho.” Of course in my buttermilk drenched imagination it was “Oh Bama” and “Oh Pepe.”
Some reporters have wondered why Saturday Night Live keeps making funny skits about Governor Sarah Palin but never picks on Barack and his faithful albeit rather dumb sidekick Joey. What could they do? No comedy writer could top the things that these two just do naturally. Obama says, “John Mc Cain can’t even use a computer.” Joey says, “That’s awful – the man was crippled in war. Well I didn’t actually see the ad so I guess it’s okay. Stand up Chuck.”
Still, if SNL wants to try a skit, they could have Barack trying to explain the positions on a baseball team to a flustered Joey who gets ever more shrill, saying, “Who’s on first?” Barack: “That’s right, Who’s on first.” Joey: “What’s right?” Barack: “Who’s on first.” And so forth. Maybe better yet, have Joey running in terror through a zombie infested castle screaming “Obaaaama.”
Well, it’s bedtime, I need a glass of buttermilk.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
SO MUCH TO BLOG; SO LITTLE TIME
Where to start?
Let’s try this: Pelosi lied – bad bill died. Speaker Pelosi thought this crisis was not about Wall Street or Main Street (I’m so sick of hearing that phrase) – it was about Pennsylvania Avenue. To her it’s just all a big political game. When John Mc Cain was on his way to Washington to be involved in debate, which incidentally is what he gets paid to do, Nancy and her assistant, old man Harry, stepped out to announce that a deal had already been made – it was a lie. It was a lie that didn’t sit well with Republicans. Then she stood in front of the house and blamed this mess on the Republican administration – another lie. It was a lie that didn’t sit well with Republicans. She said she had 120 votes from her Democrat Party members to pass the bill – she lied. It was a lie that didn’t sit well with Republicans. Three strikes and you’re out.
Strike two was a close call. Bush does share the blame. He should have been a more insistent critic of the way Barney Frank and Chris Dodd didn’t adequately oversee their delinquent kids, Fannie and Freddy. He should have brought the matter to the direct attention of the American people the way Ronald Reagan would have done.
When the dust settled today the American people had taken the reigns of their government firmly in hand. They snatched the bit from the teeth of a runaway horse and said a firm “whoa” to a team that was about to send the wagon plunging over the precipice.
The main reason the bad bill failed is that Americans aren’t the stupid clods the Democrats and some Republicans think they are. They mostly haven’t had the disadvantage of going to Harvard or some other left wing indoctrination tank. They recognize socialism when they see it and they’d rather take their chances in a capitalist recession than socialist slavery. Power to the people. To the barricades mes amis, it’s time for pitchforks and torches. Retire incumbents.
Congress may devise a bill that their constituents can endorse. They may not; we’ll see. It may be that no bill can solve the problem. The crooks and fools in Congress and on Wall Street may have delivered wounds too numerous to be healed by any prescription the doctors can concoct. We know we are in for tough times no matter what – everybody with any sense is assuring us of this. Will it be tougher without congressional action? We will never know the answer to that. But we do know that the capitalist system that has made ours the greatest, most prosperous and generous economy in all of human history will recover in time – it always has. If the government kills that amazingly successful system, replacing it with a socialist imposter we will find ourselves in the same position our European brethren enjoy – a position where the government takes most of the product of our labors and doles out what it thinks we need.
Let’s try this: Pelosi lied – bad bill died. Speaker Pelosi thought this crisis was not about Wall Street or Main Street (I’m so sick of hearing that phrase) – it was about Pennsylvania Avenue. To her it’s just all a big political game. When John Mc Cain was on his way to Washington to be involved in debate, which incidentally is what he gets paid to do, Nancy and her assistant, old man Harry, stepped out to announce that a deal had already been made – it was a lie. It was a lie that didn’t sit well with Republicans. Then she stood in front of the house and blamed this mess on the Republican administration – another lie. It was a lie that didn’t sit well with Republicans. She said she had 120 votes from her Democrat Party members to pass the bill – she lied. It was a lie that didn’t sit well with Republicans. Three strikes and you’re out.
Strike two was a close call. Bush does share the blame. He should have been a more insistent critic of the way Barney Frank and Chris Dodd didn’t adequately oversee their delinquent kids, Fannie and Freddy. He should have brought the matter to the direct attention of the American people the way Ronald Reagan would have done.
When the dust settled today the American people had taken the reigns of their government firmly in hand. They snatched the bit from the teeth of a runaway horse and said a firm “whoa” to a team that was about to send the wagon plunging over the precipice.
The main reason the bad bill failed is that Americans aren’t the stupid clods the Democrats and some Republicans think they are. They mostly haven’t had the disadvantage of going to Harvard or some other left wing indoctrination tank. They recognize socialism when they see it and they’d rather take their chances in a capitalist recession than socialist slavery. Power to the people. To the barricades mes amis, it’s time for pitchforks and torches. Retire incumbents.
Congress may devise a bill that their constituents can endorse. They may not; we’ll see. It may be that no bill can solve the problem. The crooks and fools in Congress and on Wall Street may have delivered wounds too numerous to be healed by any prescription the doctors can concoct. We know we are in for tough times no matter what – everybody with any sense is assuring us of this. Will it be tougher without congressional action? We will never know the answer to that. But we do know that the capitalist system that has made ours the greatest, most prosperous and generous economy in all of human history will recover in time – it always has. If the government kills that amazingly successful system, replacing it with a socialist imposter we will find ourselves in the same position our European brethren enjoy – a position where the government takes most of the product of our labors and doles out what it thinks we need.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
You're right John
After the debate my wife was trying to visualize the junior senator from Illinois sitting face to face with some world leader. It opened an interesting conversation. She could see the young fellow sitting across the table from Queen Elizabeth, saying “So how are things in the kingdom Lizzy?” Of course he would be on first name terms with Mahmoud – Mahmoud would even understand the meaning of Obama’s name. (Yes, I know Ahmadinejad’s native language isn’t Arab, but Pharsee, but any good Muslim knows enough Arab to understand Obama’s name.)
I have acted as interpreter for some people who don’t speak English – it isn’t easy. I’d hate to try to interpret for someone who uses “you know” for a semicolon and uses lots of semicolons. I always deducted points from students who used “you know” and “like” in their sentences. Yes, I realize they were using these phrases because they needed extra time to think about what they were about to say, it’s just that I expected them to come into class prepared to speak directly on the subject.
So, back to the neophyte phenom from the Chicago political machine. Will he sit across the table from Putin, Chavez, Castro, et. al. and say, “uh, ya know, Vlad, uh, we don’t actually approve of, uh, what, you know, uh, your troops, uh, are, uh, doing, you know, in Georgia?”
Now there is something Obama has said that I agree with, although I don’t see its pertinency in a political speech. I agree that Americans are woefully behind the rest of the world in their command of world languages. On the other hand, I’d like to hear Obama speak his own language with a bit more fluency. After all, he studied law at Harvard. Surely they taught him forensics. How would he do in a courtroom? “Uh, Sam (that’s the judge), you know, uh, I object, uh, to, uh, my learned, you know, opponent, uh, saying, uh, his client, uh, is innocent.”
My advice to Obama – stick to the script and get good scriptwriters, when you’re on your own you sound like a freshman.
I have acted as interpreter for some people who don’t speak English – it isn’t easy. I’d hate to try to interpret for someone who uses “you know” for a semicolon and uses lots of semicolons. I always deducted points from students who used “you know” and “like” in their sentences. Yes, I realize they were using these phrases because they needed extra time to think about what they were about to say, it’s just that I expected them to come into class prepared to speak directly on the subject.
So, back to the neophyte phenom from the Chicago political machine. Will he sit across the table from Putin, Chavez, Castro, et. al. and say, “uh, ya know, Vlad, uh, we don’t actually approve of, uh, what, you know, uh, your troops, uh, are, uh, doing, you know, in Georgia?”
Now there is something Obama has said that I agree with, although I don’t see its pertinency in a political speech. I agree that Americans are woefully behind the rest of the world in their command of world languages. On the other hand, I’d like to hear Obama speak his own language with a bit more fluency. After all, he studied law at Harvard. Surely they taught him forensics. How would he do in a courtroom? “Uh, Sam (that’s the judge), you know, uh, I object, uh, to, uh, my learned, you know, opponent, uh, saying, uh, his client, uh, is innocent.”
My advice to Obama – stick to the script and get good scriptwriters, when you’re on your own you sound like a freshman.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Politics on the Prairie
We’uns is enjoyin’ our retirement out here on Orwell Acres. It ain’t no retirement village like what they have down in Florida, it’s a hobby farm owned by our son and his wife where we have a house on one corner. I reckon I could make me a golf course on it if I was a mind to; which I ain’t – golf’s just a waste a good fishin’ weather.
We live in the midst o' that big meadow they call the Great Plains. Once they get the corn down we’ll be able to look out at our bedroom winder an' see the big windmill farm 'bout ten miles away. Big silver trees that look like the landscape of some star wars planet an' when we get a red sunset its kinda romantic lookin’. ‘Course at night we can’t see the windmills themselves, just the cluster a red lights that tell airplanes they’re there. Sure we got us airplanes out here, they scare the beejeebees outta the animals when they’re a-dustin’ off the crops in our neighbors’ fields. I swear one of ‘em dragged 'is landin’ gear ‘cross the barn roof one day while I was inside. Gave me the same sensation Chris Matthews had when he first heard Obama fling out one a his speeches.
We see big planes too, but they don’t look very big ‘cause they’re so far up there when they go by. We know they’re there mostly by the way they scribble up a perfectly clear blue sky with their dadburned con-trails. It occurred to me the other day that if they was to land one a them planes out in Mike’s hay field it would double the population of the county. But they won’t do it. We’re in what the smarty-pants in Noo Yawk an’ Sam Friscer calls “fly-over country.” Them smarty-pants would be eatin’ sewer rats if it wasn’t for this here fly-over country. When they smear their corn-based margarine on their whole wheat muffins they ought to thank the God they don’t believe in for these hard workin’ farmers in fly-over America. Even their tofu is made from the beans that are bein’ harvested down the road right now.
Folks ask me what population centers we live near. I reckon the international space station is about as close as any other – and nearly as populated. It’s twenty-five miles to the nearest traffic light and it’s just a part-timer. Changes from green t’ yeller t’ red durin’ the day (lotsa fun t’ set an’ look at on a slow day), but come nightfall it goes t’ just blinkin’ red. You can see her nearly ten miles off on a dark night ‘cause there ain’t no curves nor humps in the road t’ block your vision.
Bein’ a hillbilly I do get homesick for the mountain where we lived in Arkansas way long time back. When the nostalgia gets real bad I drive over t’ the high school where they have a ball diamond and walk out on the pitcher’s mound just t' have me somethin’ t’ climb. Y' sure can see a long way from up there.
After y' get t' the traffic light I was mentionin’; y’ must know – if y’ know anythin' atall ‘bout America – t'won’t be much further t' the Wal-Mart store. The wife has a thing ‘bout Wal-Mart. We even had to hunt one up when we were in Mexico City. Funny thing is, that one had signs in Spanish and English. Reckon do the people that live down there complain ‘bout the foreigners that don’t speak their language?
The wife used to have a sign over her desk at work that said, “if you don’t find me here and I’m not at home, I’ll be at Wal-Mart.” There was one day she’d gone out an' I needed t' get in touch with her. This was way back when we didn’t carry telephones in our pockets. I just called down t’ the Wal-Mart an’ gave the lady my wife’s description an’ asked had she seen ‘er. She said, “you must mean Shirley – I’ll call back to the craft department.” ‘Course that’s right where she was. She was so well known there she had her own parkin' space.
Fact is, she used t’ work at a Wal-Mart – back when we lived in a suburb of St. Louie. She was one a those that rang up the merchandise and took the money. That was way back before they taught the check-out counters t’ read an’ write, so she had t’ actually ring the stuff up her own self. Doncha wonder why a country that can teach machines t’ read an’ write can’t teach its kids?
I don’t want folks t’ think we’uns don’t have nothin’ t’ do here or that we’uns is disconnected from the rest o’ the world. Amongst all of us we put in a really big garden an’ we got a whole pantry full a canned food an’ the wife done made the most bodashus apple butter from the tree outside her studio winder an’ we got a big ol’ crabapple tree that my wife she made a load a jelly from it t’ smear on homemade biscuits – Oh my goodness that Jelly’s good.
Our son and me, we raise our own meat (WARNING! PETA folks may find the following discussion disturbing to their peace of mind – I sure hope so). We built us a goat pen over on the North side of the property – we call it ‘the studio.’ Our flock a Nannies we call ‘the view.’ ‘Course the alpha nanny – the one what bosses the rest of ‘em around, tol’ us her own name right off – said “Bah-bah-wah-wah” plain as day and all the rest of ‘em went t’ chantin’ in unison, “Bah-bah-wah-wah, Bah-bah-wah-wah.” So we knew she was gonna be the boss lady of the flock. She’s in the family way now and so is Whoopi – ol’ Slick Billy has a smug look on ‘is face.
Since she’s eatin’ for three (goats generally have twins) Bah-bah-wah-wah wants more than her share of the food and sometimes gets grouchy – soon's she catches ‘Lizabeth at the manger she’ll just lower her head and butt her away so she can have more – Whoopi, she does the same. Its real funny when there’s nannies at both ends a the manger an’ Bah-bah-wah-wah spends all her time runnin’ from one end t’other a-buttin’ them away but never gettin’ t’ eat ‘cause she’s ‘fraid one a them others is gonna get t’ eat. We humans could learn a lot from goats and I reckon we have.
We had one name of Rosie but she never had no kids so we ate her. Did y’all know that 70% of the meat eaten on this here warmin’ up globe is from goats?
Goats aren’t all we have here on Orwell Acres. There’s a big ol’ Holstein steer name of Porter. The grandkids named him that ‘cause they understand what he’s doin’ here. Not like kids in Phillydefya an’ Lost Angels that think hamburger comes from the back end of a McDonalds. These kids have seen hogs butchered an' deer dressed out. Theirs is not a ‘virtual’ world. Reckon Sary’s kids has seen moose an’ caribou skinned. I hear Polar bear tastes purty good, but for my own part I like a black bear roast with horseradish.
Porter is the most political of the animals on Orwell Acres. A feller can’t hardly walk where Porter’s been ‘thout gettin’ inta a bunch a political speeches – that’s what we call ‘em ‘cause y’ can’t tell when the kids might be a-listenin’. That two-tone calf makes more political speeches than Barack an’ Joe put t’gether – better ones too. It’s s’ bad I have t’ take off my boots ‘fore goin’ inta the house an’ I scrub ‘em often. I always scrub out my ears too after listenin’ t’ one or t’other a these here polytishuns.
Somebody asked if I wasn’t bothered by the smell. Well, I got used t’ the smell a the steel mills in Cleveland an’ the smell a the Orange Juice plant in Florida, I can get used t’ ol’ Porter. It’s the stink a them polytishuns I can’t get used to.
Lately we’ve made an investment in Freddie Mac an’ Fannie Mae. Freddie’s a barrow an’ Fanny’s a gilt. For you folks that think a gilt is some British bond it’s not. An’ for you folks that think the only British Bond is named James, a British treasury note is named after gilts. They’s pigs y’all, pigs – we’uns gonna be feedin’ at the Freddie Mac an’ Fanny Mae pork barrel jus’ like them high fallutin’ Harvard boys settin’ round in the senate blowin’ farts at one another. Last year’s hogs has nearly all 'scaped the freezer, one pork chop at a time. Don’t none a y’all let on ‘bout Freddie an’ Fanny t’ them PETA folks.
Oh Darn! Y’all pardon my language please. It’s ol’ Porter. Just like a polytishun, he’s done got over inta Fannie an’ Freddie’s pen an’s eatin’ up all their food. I got t’ go run ‘im out in the congress (that’s what we call the pasture) so he can live off the fat of the land and make lots more political speeches.
We live in the midst o' that big meadow they call the Great Plains. Once they get the corn down we’ll be able to look out at our bedroom winder an' see the big windmill farm 'bout ten miles away. Big silver trees that look like the landscape of some star wars planet an' when we get a red sunset its kinda romantic lookin’. ‘Course at night we can’t see the windmills themselves, just the cluster a red lights that tell airplanes they’re there. Sure we got us airplanes out here, they scare the beejeebees outta the animals when they’re a-dustin’ off the crops in our neighbors’ fields. I swear one of ‘em dragged 'is landin’ gear ‘cross the barn roof one day while I was inside. Gave me the same sensation Chris Matthews had when he first heard Obama fling out one a his speeches.
We see big planes too, but they don’t look very big ‘cause they’re so far up there when they go by. We know they’re there mostly by the way they scribble up a perfectly clear blue sky with their dadburned con-trails. It occurred to me the other day that if they was to land one a them planes out in Mike’s hay field it would double the population of the county. But they won’t do it. We’re in what the smarty-pants in Noo Yawk an’ Sam Friscer calls “fly-over country.” Them smarty-pants would be eatin’ sewer rats if it wasn’t for this here fly-over country. When they smear their corn-based margarine on their whole wheat muffins they ought to thank the God they don’t believe in for these hard workin’ farmers in fly-over America. Even their tofu is made from the beans that are bein’ harvested down the road right now.
Folks ask me what population centers we live near. I reckon the international space station is about as close as any other – and nearly as populated. It’s twenty-five miles to the nearest traffic light and it’s just a part-timer. Changes from green t’ yeller t’ red durin’ the day (lotsa fun t’ set an’ look at on a slow day), but come nightfall it goes t’ just blinkin’ red. You can see her nearly ten miles off on a dark night ‘cause there ain’t no curves nor humps in the road t’ block your vision.
Bein’ a hillbilly I do get homesick for the mountain where we lived in Arkansas way long time back. When the nostalgia gets real bad I drive over t’ the high school where they have a ball diamond and walk out on the pitcher’s mound just t' have me somethin’ t’ climb. Y' sure can see a long way from up there.
After y' get t' the traffic light I was mentionin’; y’ must know – if y’ know anythin' atall ‘bout America – t'won’t be much further t' the Wal-Mart store. The wife has a thing ‘bout Wal-Mart. We even had to hunt one up when we were in Mexico City. Funny thing is, that one had signs in Spanish and English. Reckon do the people that live down there complain ‘bout the foreigners that don’t speak their language?
The wife used to have a sign over her desk at work that said, “if you don’t find me here and I’m not at home, I’ll be at Wal-Mart.” There was one day she’d gone out an' I needed t' get in touch with her. This was way back when we didn’t carry telephones in our pockets. I just called down t’ the Wal-Mart an’ gave the lady my wife’s description an’ asked had she seen ‘er. She said, “you must mean Shirley – I’ll call back to the craft department.” ‘Course that’s right where she was. She was so well known there she had her own parkin' space.
Fact is, she used t’ work at a Wal-Mart – back when we lived in a suburb of St. Louie. She was one a those that rang up the merchandise and took the money. That was way back before they taught the check-out counters t’ read an’ write, so she had t’ actually ring the stuff up her own self. Doncha wonder why a country that can teach machines t’ read an’ write can’t teach its kids?
I don’t want folks t’ think we’uns don’t have nothin’ t’ do here or that we’uns is disconnected from the rest o’ the world. Amongst all of us we put in a really big garden an’ we got a whole pantry full a canned food an’ the wife done made the most bodashus apple butter from the tree outside her studio winder an’ we got a big ol’ crabapple tree that my wife she made a load a jelly from it t’ smear on homemade biscuits – Oh my goodness that Jelly’s good.
Our son and me, we raise our own meat (WARNING! PETA folks may find the following discussion disturbing to their peace of mind – I sure hope so). We built us a goat pen over on the North side of the property – we call it ‘the studio.’ Our flock a Nannies we call ‘the view.’ ‘Course the alpha nanny – the one what bosses the rest of ‘em around, tol’ us her own name right off – said “Bah-bah-wah-wah” plain as day and all the rest of ‘em went t’ chantin’ in unison, “Bah-bah-wah-wah, Bah-bah-wah-wah.” So we knew she was gonna be the boss lady of the flock. She’s in the family way now and so is Whoopi – ol’ Slick Billy has a smug look on ‘is face.
Since she’s eatin’ for three (goats generally have twins) Bah-bah-wah-wah wants more than her share of the food and sometimes gets grouchy – soon's she catches ‘Lizabeth at the manger she’ll just lower her head and butt her away so she can have more – Whoopi, she does the same. Its real funny when there’s nannies at both ends a the manger an’ Bah-bah-wah-wah spends all her time runnin’ from one end t’other a-buttin’ them away but never gettin’ t’ eat ‘cause she’s ‘fraid one a them others is gonna get t’ eat. We humans could learn a lot from goats and I reckon we have.
We had one name of Rosie but she never had no kids so we ate her. Did y’all know that 70% of the meat eaten on this here warmin’ up globe is from goats?
Goats aren’t all we have here on Orwell Acres. There’s a big ol’ Holstein steer name of Porter. The grandkids named him that ‘cause they understand what he’s doin’ here. Not like kids in Phillydefya an’ Lost Angels that think hamburger comes from the back end of a McDonalds. These kids have seen hogs butchered an' deer dressed out. Theirs is not a ‘virtual’ world. Reckon Sary’s kids has seen moose an’ caribou skinned. I hear Polar bear tastes purty good, but for my own part I like a black bear roast with horseradish.
Porter is the most political of the animals on Orwell Acres. A feller can’t hardly walk where Porter’s been ‘thout gettin’ inta a bunch a political speeches – that’s what we call ‘em ‘cause y’ can’t tell when the kids might be a-listenin’. That two-tone calf makes more political speeches than Barack an’ Joe put t’gether – better ones too. It’s s’ bad I have t’ take off my boots ‘fore goin’ inta the house an’ I scrub ‘em often. I always scrub out my ears too after listenin’ t’ one or t’other a these here polytishuns.
Somebody asked if I wasn’t bothered by the smell. Well, I got used t’ the smell a the steel mills in Cleveland an’ the smell a the Orange Juice plant in Florida, I can get used t’ ol’ Porter. It’s the stink a them polytishuns I can’t get used to.
Lately we’ve made an investment in Freddie Mac an’ Fannie Mae. Freddie’s a barrow an’ Fanny’s a gilt. For you folks that think a gilt is some British bond it’s not. An’ for you folks that think the only British Bond is named James, a British treasury note is named after gilts. They’s pigs y’all, pigs – we’uns gonna be feedin’ at the Freddie Mac an’ Fanny Mae pork barrel jus’ like them high fallutin’ Harvard boys settin’ round in the senate blowin’ farts at one another. Last year’s hogs has nearly all 'scaped the freezer, one pork chop at a time. Don’t none a y’all let on ‘bout Freddie an’ Fanny t’ them PETA folks.
Oh Darn! Y’all pardon my language please. It’s ol’ Porter. Just like a polytishun, he’s done got over inta Fannie an’ Freddie’s pen an’s eatin’ up all their food. I got t’ go run ‘im out in the congress (that’s what we call the pasture) so he can live off the fat of the land and make lots more political speeches.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
GI John and the Hockey Mom
Barak Obama chose Joe Biden for his running mate and the pro-Obama media applauded – after all, Joe is Roman Catholic and that’s a voting block Obama needs. But wait a minute. Doesn’t the Roman Catholic Church teach against abortion? Aren’t they the leaders in the pro-life movement? Won’t Biden try to take away a woman’s right to kill her unborn baby? How about homosexual marriages? Doesn’t the Roman Catholic Church teach that homosexuality is sinful? Don’t they speak out against homosexual marriage? Won’t Joe stand in the way of a homosexual visiting his partner in the hospital?
Not to worry. Joe doesn’t believe what his church teaches. He may take communion in a Catholic Church but he doesn’t really believe any of these politically inconvenient teachings.
Well, what about Obama himself? Hasn’t he attended a Black Liberation Church for twenty years? Doesn’t his church teach that The United States is the USA of KKK? Doesn’t the pastor curse the United States from the pulpit? Don’t they despise white people and accuse the government of spreading A.I.D.S. among the black population? Won’t Obama have a racially divisive agenda? Isn’t he anti-American at heart?
Not to worry. Barry tells us he doesn’t believe what his church teaches. He may take communion in a radically racist church. He may even commit his children’s religious training to that church, but he doesn’t really believe any of its politically inconvenient teachings.
Well, what about Sarah Palin? Isn’t she an Evangelical Christian? Aren’t they the ones who, like Biden’s Catholic Church, teach that abortion is wrong and homosexuality is sinful? Surely, Palin just stops by the church to take communion, not to receive any religious instruction or inspiration – right?
Not to – oops – Sarah Palin actually believes what her church teaches, actually structures her life according to those teachings, even when it means undertaking a lifelong burden to preserve the life of a human being and even when the teachings are politically inconvenient.
There’s a word for people who claim a religion as their own, but neither believe nor practice what that religion stands for – the word is hypocrite. According to their fawning media surrogates Obama and Biden are good choices because they are hypocrites, Palin is a bad choice because she is sincere. Interesting set of moral values wouldn’t you say?
I want to elect a president with integrity and I want a Vice President who has integrity as well. I believe John Mc Cain to be a man of integrity – one who doesn’t attack old friends just because they have become rivals for a political office. He doesn’t say much about his religious faith but he has given us no reason to believe he is insincere about it. He is certainly sincere about the abortion issue. He speaks from only one face about that and about same sex marriage.
Sincerity should be a big issue in this election, especially for those who consider voting for Obama. He tells us where he stands on a number of issues and he assures us that he actually loves America. He has no record to back these statements; as a matter of fact the record should cause us to wonder about his love of America. But he gives us his word, assures us of his commitment and wants that to be enough for us. My question is this: if he is admittedly insincere about his religion, why should I believe he is sincere about his policies? Frankly I don’t.
As for Biden, he has told us that Obama is not ready to be president, now he says that he is. Was he sincere about the earlier statement? Is he sincere about his change of heart? If the man is not sincere about the religion in which he hopes to find salvation for his soul, why would I believe him sincere about mere politics? Frankly I don’t.
Maybe some Catholics are so shallow they will vote for Biden just because he’s Catholic, maybe some black people are so shallow they will vote for Obama because he’s black, maybe some women are so shallow they will vote for Palin just because she’s a woman, I will vote for her because of her sincere commitment to her principles, and I will vote for Mc Cain because of his proven integrity.
GI John and the Hockey Mom!
Not to worry. Joe doesn’t believe what his church teaches. He may take communion in a Catholic Church but he doesn’t really believe any of these politically inconvenient teachings.
Well, what about Obama himself? Hasn’t he attended a Black Liberation Church for twenty years? Doesn’t his church teach that The United States is the USA of KKK? Doesn’t the pastor curse the United States from the pulpit? Don’t they despise white people and accuse the government of spreading A.I.D.S. among the black population? Won’t Obama have a racially divisive agenda? Isn’t he anti-American at heart?
Not to worry. Barry tells us he doesn’t believe what his church teaches. He may take communion in a radically racist church. He may even commit his children’s religious training to that church, but he doesn’t really believe any of its politically inconvenient teachings.
Well, what about Sarah Palin? Isn’t she an Evangelical Christian? Aren’t they the ones who, like Biden’s Catholic Church, teach that abortion is wrong and homosexuality is sinful? Surely, Palin just stops by the church to take communion, not to receive any religious instruction or inspiration – right?
Not to – oops – Sarah Palin actually believes what her church teaches, actually structures her life according to those teachings, even when it means undertaking a lifelong burden to preserve the life of a human being and even when the teachings are politically inconvenient.
There’s a word for people who claim a religion as their own, but neither believe nor practice what that religion stands for – the word is hypocrite. According to their fawning media surrogates Obama and Biden are good choices because they are hypocrites, Palin is a bad choice because she is sincere. Interesting set of moral values wouldn’t you say?
I want to elect a president with integrity and I want a Vice President who has integrity as well. I believe John Mc Cain to be a man of integrity – one who doesn’t attack old friends just because they have become rivals for a political office. He doesn’t say much about his religious faith but he has given us no reason to believe he is insincere about it. He is certainly sincere about the abortion issue. He speaks from only one face about that and about same sex marriage.
Sincerity should be a big issue in this election, especially for those who consider voting for Obama. He tells us where he stands on a number of issues and he assures us that he actually loves America. He has no record to back these statements; as a matter of fact the record should cause us to wonder about his love of America. But he gives us his word, assures us of his commitment and wants that to be enough for us. My question is this: if he is admittedly insincere about his religion, why should I believe he is sincere about his policies? Frankly I don’t.
As for Biden, he has told us that Obama is not ready to be president, now he says that he is. Was he sincere about the earlier statement? Is he sincere about his change of heart? If the man is not sincere about the religion in which he hopes to find salvation for his soul, why would I believe him sincere about mere politics? Frankly I don’t.
Maybe some Catholics are so shallow they will vote for Biden just because he’s Catholic, maybe some black people are so shallow they will vote for Obama because he’s black, maybe some women are so shallow they will vote for Palin just because she’s a woman, I will vote for her because of her sincere commitment to her principles, and I will vote for Mc Cain because of his proven integrity.
GI John and the Hockey Mom!
Who I Am
The ol’ Hillbilly has seen sixteen of these presidential elections an’ the Good Lord bein’ willin’ he’s ‘bout t’ see number seventeen.
Obviously I’m not as old as Joe Biden, he remembers all the way back to 1929. Those memories allow him to correct all the revisionist history books that have been telling us that Herbert Hoover was president and television wasn’t yet invented.
However, I do remember Roosevelt. I don’t remember his re-election in 1944 although I was alive when it happened, what I do remember is what happened in 1945 – I remember it well and vividly.
My good old Hillbilly Daddy had set in to teach me to read in preparation for kindergarten. He wasn’t just teaching me ABCs, but to actually read words and simple sentences. My primer was the daily newspaper which he read avidly. I would stand close to him as he sat and read the evening paper. He would have me read as many of the words as possible, always teaching me new words and explaining their meanings (It wasn’t that hard – it was a liberal paper). But on the day I remember so clearly, he was teaching me politics, not reading.
Two parts of that event stand out in my memory, the picture on the front page and my father weeping. The picture was of the hearse that bore the body of Franklin Roosevelt, my father wept as he told me America had lost her greatest living person. We were dedicated Democrats in those days.
I well remember the election of 1948, after which the newspaper was greeted with glee rather than tears. Harry Truman had, against all pundital predictions, beaten Republican Thomas Dewey.
By the next election my parents had separated politically. Dad voted Stevenson, Mom voted for her cousin Dwight (she didn’t know she was distantly related to him). You can believe I remember the political discussions that year! Four years later it was the same story. By that time I was very interested in politics and I sided strongly with Dad.
But then came Kennedy. Mom voted Nixon, Dad stayed home, and I campaigned for Nixon.
In 1964 I was an ardent worker for Barry Goldwater. I even had an AuH2O64 sign over my desk at work. I remember a customer from Spain telling me Barry was “muy peligroso” – Europe never has liked Republicans.
In ’68 I voted without enthusiasm for Nixon – Dad said he was a crook and I half believed him, but after the debacles of Kennedy and Johnson, and the obvious radical tilt of the country, I chose Tricky Dick – it may be the only vote I regret. In ’72 there was no real choice – only the lunatic left voted for Mc Govern, but I almost went third party that time.
In ’76 I voted for Ford with confidence in his good judgment. We sure learned that the Georgia Peanut had none of that.
Finally, in ’80 the Republicans gave us a candidate we could be excited about. I voted Reagan twice (not in the same election of course – I’m not a Democrat).
In ’88, with misgivings I voted Bush. In ’92 I voted for him again but with enthusiasm. After all, I had lived in Arkansas knew about Clinton – almost moved to Hope myself, a nice little town where the folks raise good watermelons. But I didn’t get the job in Hope and thus my exile began as I moved to the frigid northland.
When Bill Clinton won the election I predicted to friends of mine that he would either be impeached or be run out of office before the end of his first term. Sorry, my timing was off and his skill at political survival was greater than I expected.
I was disappointed in 2000 when G.W. Bush was nominated. Yes, I voted for him, but what choice did I have? Gore lives in a science fiction world. Nevertheless, I wrote an article extremely critical of the intervention of the Supreme Court – I would have rather seen the constitutional process go forward, in spite of the confusion and uncertainty. I am not a Republican, I am a conservative.
I supported Bush’s attack on Afghanistan and strongly opposed the invasion of Iraq. In ’04 I informed all who would listen that I was voting third party. My Republican and conservative friends begged, pleaded, and even accused me of wasting my vote. I had to agree that Kerry was not to be trusted. Finally I yielded, held tightly to my nose and voted for Bush – huge mistake. I now have two votes I regret.
This year I refused to support either the Dem or the Republican. I am disgusted with what has been passed off as governance over the past four years. The executive branch has been so fixed on justifying and winning the Iraq war that they have let everything else go to ruin. The Democrats gloated their way back into control of the legislature and then took a two year rest from doing anything at all. Not that the Republicans showed any appreciable energy. So we have the present mess.
An aside – four years ago I predicted that this election would see the splintering of the two parties. I predicted that the parties would nominate the usual pair of inepts and that John Mc Cain and Joe Lieberman would run on an independent centrist ticket. I’d be real interested to know whether those gentlemen ever gave such a possibility any thought.
This year I have actively supported a third party candidate who I am still convinced is the best candidate – Alan Keyes. I voted for him in primaries years ago and would be totally delighted if he were elected. But I’m having déjà vu. It’s 1972 all over again. A radical very far out in left field Democrat wants us to entrust the future of our country and our grandkids to him and his terrorist friends. No way! No way, never! Alan forgive me. I can’t take the chance. I’ll vote, without enthusiasm, for John Mc Cain – a good and capable man, just a little too centrist for this conservative. I will vote with enthusiasm for the most real American person I have ever seen on a presidential ticket, Sarah Palin.
And I promise – here and now – I will not vote to send any incumbent, Republican or Democrat, back to congress. We do need change and we will get change, no matter who is elected we will get change. It may be good and it may be terrible, but we will get change. We need change in the legislature more than anyplace else in our government. Most Americans agree – just look at the approval ratings.
Obviously I’m not as old as Joe Biden, he remembers all the way back to 1929. Those memories allow him to correct all the revisionist history books that have been telling us that Herbert Hoover was president and television wasn’t yet invented.
However, I do remember Roosevelt. I don’t remember his re-election in 1944 although I was alive when it happened, what I do remember is what happened in 1945 – I remember it well and vividly.
My good old Hillbilly Daddy had set in to teach me to read in preparation for kindergarten. He wasn’t just teaching me ABCs, but to actually read words and simple sentences. My primer was the daily newspaper which he read avidly. I would stand close to him as he sat and read the evening paper. He would have me read as many of the words as possible, always teaching me new words and explaining their meanings (It wasn’t that hard – it was a liberal paper). But on the day I remember so clearly, he was teaching me politics, not reading.
Two parts of that event stand out in my memory, the picture on the front page and my father weeping. The picture was of the hearse that bore the body of Franklin Roosevelt, my father wept as he told me America had lost her greatest living person. We were dedicated Democrats in those days.
I well remember the election of 1948, after which the newspaper was greeted with glee rather than tears. Harry Truman had, against all pundital predictions, beaten Republican Thomas Dewey.
By the next election my parents had separated politically. Dad voted Stevenson, Mom voted for her cousin Dwight (she didn’t know she was distantly related to him). You can believe I remember the political discussions that year! Four years later it was the same story. By that time I was very interested in politics and I sided strongly with Dad.
But then came Kennedy. Mom voted Nixon, Dad stayed home, and I campaigned for Nixon.
In 1964 I was an ardent worker for Barry Goldwater. I even had an AuH2O64 sign over my desk at work. I remember a customer from Spain telling me Barry was “muy peligroso” – Europe never has liked Republicans.
In ’68 I voted without enthusiasm for Nixon – Dad said he was a crook and I half believed him, but after the debacles of Kennedy and Johnson, and the obvious radical tilt of the country, I chose Tricky Dick – it may be the only vote I regret. In ’72 there was no real choice – only the lunatic left voted for Mc Govern, but I almost went third party that time.
In ’76 I voted for Ford with confidence in his good judgment. We sure learned that the Georgia Peanut had none of that.
Finally, in ’80 the Republicans gave us a candidate we could be excited about. I voted Reagan twice (not in the same election of course – I’m not a Democrat).
In ’88, with misgivings I voted Bush. In ’92 I voted for him again but with enthusiasm. After all, I had lived in Arkansas knew about Clinton – almost moved to Hope myself, a nice little town where the folks raise good watermelons. But I didn’t get the job in Hope and thus my exile began as I moved to the frigid northland.
When Bill Clinton won the election I predicted to friends of mine that he would either be impeached or be run out of office before the end of his first term. Sorry, my timing was off and his skill at political survival was greater than I expected.
I was disappointed in 2000 when G.W. Bush was nominated. Yes, I voted for him, but what choice did I have? Gore lives in a science fiction world. Nevertheless, I wrote an article extremely critical of the intervention of the Supreme Court – I would have rather seen the constitutional process go forward, in spite of the confusion and uncertainty. I am not a Republican, I am a conservative.
I supported Bush’s attack on Afghanistan and strongly opposed the invasion of Iraq. In ’04 I informed all who would listen that I was voting third party. My Republican and conservative friends begged, pleaded, and even accused me of wasting my vote. I had to agree that Kerry was not to be trusted. Finally I yielded, held tightly to my nose and voted for Bush – huge mistake. I now have two votes I regret.
This year I refused to support either the Dem or the Republican. I am disgusted with what has been passed off as governance over the past four years. The executive branch has been so fixed on justifying and winning the Iraq war that they have let everything else go to ruin. The Democrats gloated their way back into control of the legislature and then took a two year rest from doing anything at all. Not that the Republicans showed any appreciable energy. So we have the present mess.
An aside – four years ago I predicted that this election would see the splintering of the two parties. I predicted that the parties would nominate the usual pair of inepts and that John Mc Cain and Joe Lieberman would run on an independent centrist ticket. I’d be real interested to know whether those gentlemen ever gave such a possibility any thought.
This year I have actively supported a third party candidate who I am still convinced is the best candidate – Alan Keyes. I voted for him in primaries years ago and would be totally delighted if he were elected. But I’m having déjà vu. It’s 1972 all over again. A radical very far out in left field Democrat wants us to entrust the future of our country and our grandkids to him and his terrorist friends. No way! No way, never! Alan forgive me. I can’t take the chance. I’ll vote, without enthusiasm, for John Mc Cain – a good and capable man, just a little too centrist for this conservative. I will vote with enthusiasm for the most real American person I have ever seen on a presidential ticket, Sarah Palin.
And I promise – here and now – I will not vote to send any incumbent, Republican or Democrat, back to congress. We do need change and we will get change, no matter who is elected we will get change. It may be good and it may be terrible, but we will get change. We need change in the legislature more than anyplace else in our government. Most Americans agree – just look at the approval ratings.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
I Love America
I love America. I despise America’s enemies. I don’t hobnob with them, I don’t seek their approval or support, I don’t work with them on any project, no matter how worthy the project might be. I especially do not have anything in common with the enemies of my country who do now or ever have sought to overthrow her by means of terrorism. I hold all such terrorists in utter contempt. I mean all terrorists from Osama Bin Laden to William Ayers. I perceive no difference whatsoever between them except that one has been more successful than the other and one has performed his despicable acts more recently than the other.
Barack Obama says he loves America. I suppose that, in his way, he does. No doubt he loves the opportunities that living in this country has offered him. I am confident that he loves the freedoms he enjoys as a citizen of this country. I would suppose he loves the lifestyle he is afforded as a partaker in the affluence of American society. One would have to ask him for details, but I’m sure there are many other things he loves about America. I certainly do not question his love for these things about the country.
On the other hand, it is clear that he does not love America in the same way I do. He does not despise America’s enemies as I do. He does not hate terrorism as I do. He sought and received the help of William Ayers when he began his political career – I would never do that. He served Ayers as Chairman of the Board of the Ayers created Chicago Annenberg Challenge – no terrorist need ever ask for my assistance in any project. Obama served alongside Ayers on the board of the Woods Fund – I could not have stood the stink.
When he is asked about this relationship Obama justifies it by saying that Ayers committed his treacherous crimes when Obama was only six or seven years old. By that logic, he could embrace Joseph Stalin since that horrible dictator committed his atrocities before Obama was even born. But Obama tells us that Ayers is a ‘respected’ member of the community. ‘Respected’ because he is a professor of English at the University of Illinois at Chicago, and a comrade of Mayor Dailey and other Chicago politicians, both Democrat and Republican.
I grew up in a home, church, and school, where I was taught that a person of real character doesn’t just float downstream with the trash, but rather makes moral decisions independently of the opinions of the crowd. It is shameful that Chicago politicians and the university do not hate the enemies of America. It is shameful that they harbor in their bosom a family of terrorists who still hate the country they ought to love. It would be commendable if Obama had the character, the good judgment, the love of America, and the hatred for terrorism, which would separate him from so odious a person as Ayers, and from all who associate with him no matter their position or political power. Sadly, that is not the character of Senator Barack Obama.
On the other hand, no amount of torture could make John Mc Cain collaborate with the enemies of America. What Obama accepts for the sake of personal political advancement Mc Cain rejected at the cost of a broken body and near death. He endured the hatred of America manifested in the most unspeakable manner upon his own body for five long years while at that same time the scum called Ayers and his slimy wife were manifesting the same kind of hatred of America and all things decent in his homeland.
I love America. I loathe her enemies. I have nothing but contempt for the friends of her enemies. I don’t vote for them.
Barack Obama says he loves America. I suppose that, in his way, he does. No doubt he loves the opportunities that living in this country has offered him. I am confident that he loves the freedoms he enjoys as a citizen of this country. I would suppose he loves the lifestyle he is afforded as a partaker in the affluence of American society. One would have to ask him for details, but I’m sure there are many other things he loves about America. I certainly do not question his love for these things about the country.
On the other hand, it is clear that he does not love America in the same way I do. He does not despise America’s enemies as I do. He does not hate terrorism as I do. He sought and received the help of William Ayers when he began his political career – I would never do that. He served Ayers as Chairman of the Board of the Ayers created Chicago Annenberg Challenge – no terrorist need ever ask for my assistance in any project. Obama served alongside Ayers on the board of the Woods Fund – I could not have stood the stink.
When he is asked about this relationship Obama justifies it by saying that Ayers committed his treacherous crimes when Obama was only six or seven years old. By that logic, he could embrace Joseph Stalin since that horrible dictator committed his atrocities before Obama was even born. But Obama tells us that Ayers is a ‘respected’ member of the community. ‘Respected’ because he is a professor of English at the University of Illinois at Chicago, and a comrade of Mayor Dailey and other Chicago politicians, both Democrat and Republican.
I grew up in a home, church, and school, where I was taught that a person of real character doesn’t just float downstream with the trash, but rather makes moral decisions independently of the opinions of the crowd. It is shameful that Chicago politicians and the university do not hate the enemies of America. It is shameful that they harbor in their bosom a family of terrorists who still hate the country they ought to love. It would be commendable if Obama had the character, the good judgment, the love of America, and the hatred for terrorism, which would separate him from so odious a person as Ayers, and from all who associate with him no matter their position or political power. Sadly, that is not the character of Senator Barack Obama.
On the other hand, no amount of torture could make John Mc Cain collaborate with the enemies of America. What Obama accepts for the sake of personal political advancement Mc Cain rejected at the cost of a broken body and near death. He endured the hatred of America manifested in the most unspeakable manner upon his own body for five long years while at that same time the scum called Ayers and his slimy wife were manifesting the same kind of hatred of America and all things decent in his homeland.
I love America. I loathe her enemies. I have nothing but contempt for the friends of her enemies. I don’t vote for them.
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