Just Thinking

In this oil on canvas by Joelle Smith entitled "Just Thinking", the old cowboy is alone with his faithful horse free from the interference of modern technology. People who can find such places to spend some time can experience the clarity of thought needed to make tough decisions. I have brief moments of silence to form thoughts on all things I believe would benefit from my input. Finding someone to listen who can actually do something about it is the toughest part of the equation to effect change.

California is bankrupt and yet the city of Los Angeles spent 1.4 million dollars on the funeral of Michael Jackson.

GM is out of bankruptcy in record time. Wonder how that happened? They will now become the government owned and run "Green Car" producer. If you think motorcycles are dangerous, just wait until you are driving a car brought to you by the same people who drove California into bankruptcy and then came to the federal side and ruined our economy.

I never liked or watched David Letterman. I couldn't find anything funny in what he did or said. I stand by my original judgement.

I don't like Fox News for the same reason I don't like the other News networks. We shouldn't have to settle for news from a network just because it is "not as bad as the rest of them."

I don't like Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson, Charlie Rangel, or the Reverend Wright. If they were white they would be behind bars. Hate Speech crimes do not apply to protected classes.

I still believe BHO is not constitutionally qualified to be president, and I'm wondering why the CIA is not investigating him as a foreign agent. Look who is alleging the CIA misled Congress. an appointee of BHO, Leon Panetta. I wonder why? Could it be to protect the ridiculous allegations of Nancy Pelosi? If I were in charge of the CIA, the traitors in our legislature wouldn't get one smidgen of classified information. Since we don't really know who our president is or where he came from, he wouldn't have access either. If you complain and want someone to take a look at the situation your go to man is U. S. Attorney General Eric Holder. Guess who appointed him?

Europe and Australia are abandoning their socialist policies as abysmal failures. Under our current leadership we are charging full steam ahead into certain failure on a major scale. Fortunately some "Blue Dog" Democrats are balking at this unbridled and illegal move to bring down the U. S. Thanks to those of you who are holding the line.

Why have comedians suddenly become candidates for serious political commentary and public office? Al Franken is a joke. I've noticed several talk shows who routinely feature comedians in their commentary. The clowns have taken over the circus.

What happens to the Labor Unions when cap and trade destroys all the jobs in the U. S. and no one is working?

While we choke our economy with governmental bailouts and stifling regulations, those countries to whom we outsource our production jobs continue polluting at record levels. The real science of carbon pollution by man indicates no real significant increase in the levels of greenhouse gases and no evidence at all that it is connected to global warming. In fact, recent studies indicate a trend toward global cooling. This is all about making a one world government that will take care of everyone. We already tried this at Babel.

Al Gore is more boring and less funny than David Letterman.

We now have HD TV and the clearest picture we've ever experienced. But, we don't have anything worth watching. Hundreds of channels (more than half of which are in a foreign language) and programming so offensive your kids can't watch it. Numerous channels of "radio with a still picture, pay for view, and "Adult" channels to round out the fare. Oh yes, I forgot Sports and Music channels full of content also not suitable for children. I am of the opinion that children have much better standards for programming than adults.

Every morning is the dawn
of a new error.

I'm Taking A Break

I have fired my last salvo for a few weeks.  Bebe and I are setting out on an adventure.  So, if you continue to see this same battle scene for a few weeks, remember, the war is not over.  I will start posting again when we get back home.  Please hold your comments after today. Thanks, Pappy

When I was born I was so surprised I didn't talk for a year and a half.
  - Gracie Allen

The Invitation

"Hello."

"Hi Dad.  Would you and mom like to come over and have dinner tonight? I'm cooking."

Those last two words left me speechless.  I told my youngest daughter to hold on while I alerted her mother.  I took a pen and wrote the date and time down for inclusion in her baby book.  I have two beautiful daughters, both career women, and both learned to cook around age twenty nine.  The youngest and her husband have two precious grand kids both under three years of age.  My wife tried, during their formative years, to teach them both how to cook.  Everyone in the house had a night to cook.  Both managed to learn several basic dishes like macaroni and cheese, grilled cheese sandwiches, and sloppy joes.  After they left home for college, both apparently survived on these dishes and fast food.  To be fair we have been invited over for meals on major holidays.  However,  we opted to assist in the preparation of the meal in lieu of Turkey Hot Pockets.  So, when Andrea called and asked us to come over I was tempted to ask if there was a new Hot Pocket meal we hadn't tried yet.  My mother stayed with my daughter for a few days last year and had rave reviews for the treatment she received.  She said, "Andrea had our meals catered every day - they were just wonderful."  

We agreed to go over and join Andrea and her family for supper.  She told us she prepared an Enchilada casserole.  Bebe prepared a salad and some cookies while I worked on a special blessing to include a petition for protection for all who were in attendance.  We arrived and were greeted by Zeus the boxer, and the grand kids who seemed happy to see us even though they were rescued from our house just hours earlier by their mother.  A wonderful aroma was coming from the kitchen.  There were pots and pans on the stove and several burners were lit. The microwave was silent.  The ladies scurried about the kitchen and dining room while Leonel and I watched in silence.  We were soon called to serve our plates.  My daughter Amanda had eaten all of the baby carrots out of the tossed salad before anyone could be served, but we managed to get some lettuce and fresh tomatoes.  The casserole was an excellent recipe and we all enjoyed the feast.  We had a breakthrough.  The girls talked about having one night a week where we met at each others houses to sample the latest recipes.  I think Bebe and I can rest now.  Both girls will be able to provide us meals in our dotage.  Thanks Andrea.  The meal was great.  I'll be looking forward to our next gathering.

Writing is the only profession where no one considers you ridiculous if you earn no money.
  - Jules Renard

I'm Back

I know many of you have been wondering where I got off to without notifying the entire blogging world, so I'm going to tell you.  My little eighty eight year old  mother, who was featured with my grandkids not long ago, had a minor heart attack on last Friday evening and I had to drive to San Antonio to be with her during her stint procedure.  She had a stint placed on the left side of her heart, and she will return in two weeks to have two more put in the right side.  She is back home and feeling much better.  While we were visiting, the woman who is responsible for my lifetime eating habits, coached me on good nutrition and avoiding heart attacks.  She had never had one minute's problem with her heart until last week.  I told her I was going to be sure and watch what I ate from now on because I sure didn't want to be having a heart attack when I got to be eighty eight.  She went home Sunday, and when I left yesterday she was looking pretty perky for someone who had just had a heart procedure done.  In fact she probably looked better than I did.  Thanks for filling up my inbox and continuing your comments even though they were not being posted in a timely fashion.  I'll be going back in about two weeks for her second procedure so there may be another lull.  I should have more notice this time and be able to cover with some pre-posting.  I'm resting today.  Have a great "hump day".

Who's Checking Snopes?

Many of you are watch dogs of the internet.  I post something controversial, and before I can view the post, I get five e-mails telling me that Snopes says it ain't so.  My response has always been, "Who's checking Snopes?"  I learned through experience, the internet can be a real unreliable source of information.  I try and use good judgement and good research to compensate for these shortcomings.  Someone sent me this article confirming my suspicions.  I'll bet Snopes says, "It ain't so."

For the past few years www.snopes.com has positioned itself, or others have labeled it as the 'tell-all, final word' on any comment, claim and e-mail.

But for several years people tried to find out who exactly was behind snopes.com. Only recently did Wikipedia get to the bottom of it - kinda makes you wonder what they were hiding. Well, finally we know. It is run by a husband and wife team - that's right, no big office of investigators and researchers, no team of lawyers. It's just a mom-and-pop operation that began as a hobby.

David and Barbara Mikkelson in the San Fernando Valley of California started the website about 13 years ago - and they have no formal background or experience in investigative research. After a few years it gained popularity believing it to be unbiased and neutral, but over the past couple of years people started asking questions who was behind it and did they have a selfish motivation? The reason for the questions - or skepticisms - is a result of snopes.com claiming to have the bottom line facts to certain questions or issues, when in fact, they have been proven wrong. Also, there were criticisms the Mikkelsons were not really investigating and getting to the 'true' bottom of various issues.

When I saw that Snopes had falsely claimed that Obama's Birth Certificate had been properly validated, I realized something was wrong with either their research and/or their credibility. It seems something is seriously wrong with both.

Then a few months ago, when my State Farm agent Bud Gregg in Mandeville hoisted a political sign referencing Barack Obama and made a big splash across the Internet, supposedly the Mikkelson's claim to have researched this issue before posting their findings on snopes.com.  In their statement they claimed the corporate office of State Farm pressured Gregg into taking down the sign, when in fact nothing of the sort ever took place.

I personally contacted David Mikkelson (and he replied back to me) thinking he would want to get to the bottom of this, and I gave him Bud Gregg's contact phone numbers.  Bud was going to give him phone numbers to the big exec's at State Farm in Illinois who would have been willing to speak with him about it. He never called Bud. In fact, I learned from Bud Gregg no one from snopes.com ever contacted anyone with State Farm. Yet snopes.com issued a statement as the 'final factual word' on the issue as if they did all their homework and got to the bottom of things.  Not!

Then it has been learned the Mikkelson's are very Democrat and extremely liberal. As we all now know from this presidential election, liberals have a purpose agenda to discredit anything that appears to be conservative. There has been much criticism lately over the Internet with people pointing out the Mikkelson's liberalism revealing itself in their website findings. Gee, what a shock!

So, I say this now to everyone who goes to www.snopes.com to get what they think to be the bottom line facts:  Proceed with caution.  Take what it says at face value and nothing more. Use it only to lead you to their references where you can link to and read the sources for yourself. Plus, you can always Google a subject and do the research yourself. It now seems apparent that's all the Mikkelson's do. After all, I can personally vouch from my own experience for their 'not' fully looking into things.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snopes.com

 

Is sloppiness in speech caused by ignorance or apathy? I don't know and I don't care.
  - William Safire

Eclectic Wisdom

At thirteen feet above sea level, the Pappy Lama sits and ponders the wisdom of the ages. He shares his collected sayings with those seeking a higher plane of consciousness. I hope your life is enriched by this sage advice.

Politics is perhaps the only profession for which no preparation is thought necessary. - Robert Louis Stevenson

The man who says he is willing to meet you halfway is usually a poor judge of distance. - Laurence J. Peter

"The Piper Cub is the safest airplane in the world; it can just barely kill you." - Attributed to Max Stanley (Northrop test pilot)

"Any ship can be a minesweeper. Once."

There is a very fine line between "hobby" and "mental illness."

Men are like fine wine. They start out as grapes, and it's up to the women to stomp the crap out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.


I hope you have a wonderful weekend. Remember, "Barking dogs never bite twice in the same place."

Going to the Doctor

I went to the doctors office yesterday. Now, many of you would say, "So what?" Well, I don't go very often is what. My family sometimes begs me to go when my symptoms refuse to respond to whatever over-the-counter remedy I've chosen for the purpose. I know too that eventually the symptoms will abate, or the ambulance will come for me. My grandfather on my mother's side went to the doctor when he got his physical exam for military service during WWI. As far as I know he never went again. I asked him once while we were driving to a favorite fishing spot, "Pawpaw, why don't you ever go to the doctor?" We happened to be passing a cemetery at the time and he pointed to the grave markers and said, "You see all those folks out there? They went to doctors". I guess it influenced me more than I thought. My coughing of late has been irritating enough for my girls to start bringing me remedies, and suggesting a doctor's visit. On Friday they contacted a friend who is an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist and actually set an appointment for me. I just started a new saline nasal rinse therapy on my own, and wouldn't you know it the symptoms were abating. My appointment was at noon yesterday. I was symptom, and cough, free for two days. I went anyway because they went to so much trouble. Now comes the part I hate, actually parking and walking into the office. There are sick people inside. I walk to the receptionist's window and say, "Dennis Price to see Dr. House". She turns to one of the other twelve scrub clad workers and says, "William Price to see Dr. House". Without pause she turns and asks, "What insurance do you carry?" I look around the waiting room to size up the wheezing crowd. I deduce I may be the only patient not fully covered by Medicaid. I produce my card and am given a sheaf of documents to fill out and return. I am informed I will get my card back when I successfully return the completed forms. I finish the ritual and return the completed tome to the receptionist who returns my card. Soon a young nurse comes to the door everyone is watching and calls my name. I am taken to the exam room and asked by the nurse the purpose of my visit. I am completely symptom free so I guess she can't tell by looking. She records my response and tells me the doctor will see me shortly as she closes the door. I find some sterile wipes and wipe down all the equipment in the exam room I feel might be used to examine me. Soon a young man about the age of my kids opens the door and introduces himself as Dr. House. I see his white coat and stethoscope so I'm relieved.

He says, "We've locked the doors to the outside because your daughters said you have been know to try and escape before being examined." I smiled. He was very nice and actually listened until I finished giving him my respiratory history. He instructed his nurse to get me some samples. She came back with an armload of plastic bags filled with colorful boxes. He told me whatever I was doing seemed to be working so to keep it up. Then he gave me the dosing instructions for the several pills and sprays his nurse had brought. The pharma companies put five pills in a huge box so you'll think you are really getting more when spending your life savings on their product. It was cumbersome to carry it all back to the car. I was appreciative of the samples and the young doctor's bedside manner. Before I got out of the parking lot my daughters were calling to see if I actually went through with it. I am now scheduling my day around the dosing protocol of my new meds.

What's another word for Thesaurus? - Steven Wright

Alarms

It is three fifteen A.M. when I first notice I'm awake. The ambient temperature in the bedroom is cool and I pull the blanket higher and snuggle deeper into my big foam pillow. I lift my head to catch a glimpse of the lighted clock dial on my bedside radio. Nothing biological is giving me any warning signals. Then I hear it, a single high pitched electronic beep. It is a familiar sound. Another thirty seconds passes and there it is again. Somewhere in the darkness a tiny alarm is sounding. I push back my warm nesting material and climb out of the hole I've pressed in the space age Swedish foam covering the top of my mattress. I teeter in my half sleep and move through the darkness to try and find my flip-flops. Two possibilities, Bebe's cell phone, or the low battery signal of one of several smoke alarms. My brain boots up and I stand in the darkness trying to use my bat senses to locate the needy unit. My deductive reasoning starts into auto mode. The beep is too loud for Bebe's phone. That's good. Her phone is usually buried deep in the recesses of her purse and once you locate the purse your real job begins, finding the dying phone amongst all the necessary items she has there. So it must be the smoke alarm. I stand in the hallway and close the bedroom door so Bebe won't awaken. I don't know why because to my memory she has never heard one of these early morning beeps. My first instinct is to go to the junk drawer and see if we have any nine volt batteries. If not, perhaps a well placed shot from my nine millimeter will quiet the incessant irritation. Aha, one battery left. Now to the garage to retrieve the six foot Aluminum step ladder. It is an older vintage ladder, light weight but with the strength of a modern beer can. A little red light blinks periodically on the smoke detection alarm located just outside my bedroom door. The ceiling in this part of the house is twelve feet. I push my brain into math mode and figure if I stand on the rung next to the top one and stretch back with my extended right arm I should be able to grip the plastic case. I set up the ladder on the slippery polished tile of the hallway and begin my ascent. As my right leg pushes the remaining two hundred and thirty pounds of my accumulated mass skyward my thigh reminds me of the leg workout I did yesterday afternoon, I wince with each successive push. The ladder twists ever so slightly with my every move. Only my shins are pressed against the top rung. I attempt a backwards reach with my right hand, my left hand is in firm contact with the top rung of the ladder. I am short. I stand full height and pretend there is a net below the ladder of sufficient strength to catch me if I go into an uncontrollable wobble. I manage to twist the plastic case with my right hand and reach back with my left and unplug the electrical wires from the unit. I'm now ready to replace the battery. I open the plastic hatch and see a yellow nine volt battery. It is the cheap kind you get at the dollar store. I replace it with its cheap cousin I found in the junk drawer. I manage the task in reverse this time and slowly descend the ladder. I'm once again on Terra Firma. I wonder as I put away the tools and discard the old battery why the batteries never go out during the day? I always change them in the wee hours of the morning. I'm sure it's some government mandated regulation having to do with productivity and not having to stop tasks to change batteries. I might as well post now, I'm up.

Good Advice

Good Mornin' pilgrim. I don't know who you voted for in this last election, but if you're smart you'll not turn your back on any of 'em. I put together a little list of sayings from some pretty smart fellars. I remember a few by name, but no matter they had some good things to say.

Personally, I carry a gun because I'm too young to die and too old to take an ass whoopin'.

Suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of Congress... But then I repeat myself. Mark Twain

I contend that for a nation to try to tax itself into prosperity is like a man standing in a bucket and trying to lift himself up by the handle. Winston Churchill

A government which robs Peter to pay Paul can always depend on the support of Paul. George Bernard Shaw

A liberal is someone who feels a great debt to his fellow man, which debt he proposes to pay off with your money. G. Gordon Liddy

Democrat's Government view of the economy could be summed up in a few short phrases: If it moves, tax it. If it keeps moving, regulate it. And if it stops moving, subsidize it. Ronald Reagan (1986)

If you think health care is expensive now, wait until you see what it
costs when it's free. P. J. O'Rourke

No man's life, liberty, or property is safe while the legislature is in session. Mark Twain (1866)

The inherent vice of capitalism is the unequal sharing of the blessings. The inherent blessing of socialism is the equal sharing of misery. Winston Churchill

What this country needs are more unemployed
politicians. Edward Langley, Artist (1928 - 1995)

My old grandpa said to me, "Son, there comes a time in every man's life when he stops bustin' knuckles and starts bustin' caps and usually it's when he becomes too old to take an ass whoopin'."

Back to the Gym

I have been trying to get my system back in order both mentally and physically. It has taken me a full day to get this post out. I had great plans to ride my bicycle this afternoon, but alas the front tire tube was punctured. I don't know exactly how that happened since it hasn't left the garage in months. Tomorrow I will get it repaired. I went to the gym yesterday morning, but my bio-rhythms were off just a tad. I did manage an upper body pump, but the rest of my day was shot. I am wearing my workout gear right now and trying to think of something else to do to use a few calories. I am holding my stomach in as I type. I don't have the light on so I am straining my eyes. Yeah, that should do it. I feel better now.

Wow, what a novel program. Should work in most work places. I may need to go back to work. Right now I don't have much wealth to re-distribute. Bebe keeps putting the classifed ads out and open to the employment opportunities section. So far I think I'm over qualified for most of the jobs offered there. It's only been six years. I should be able to find something before too long. In the meantime I am addicted to blogging. I have started taking Hydroxycut to recover the sculpted body I know exists just below the surface. So far it appears to be working on my fingers. I see some definition there. As soon as my stomach goes down I will be able to check my toes.

It took me fifteen years to discover that I had no talent for writing, but I couldn't give it up because by that time I was too famous. - Robert Benchley

Road Trip

Had someone taken a picture of me on Saturday evening when I finally pulled into my driveway, I imagine it would have resembled this gal. I don't know if she had been on the Interstate for twelve hours or not, but I sure felt like we shared some similar experience. I decided last Monday to leave and travel to Mississippi to have a little piece of land surveyed. It has been over thirty years since I was first shown the boundary lines by my late grandfather. I left on Tuesday morning and travelled to the vicinity of Alexandria, LA to visit a friend and fellow conservative who wanted to vent on the political happenings in our nation. His wife was out of town on business, so we commiserated late into the night. I felt better for having had our little session, and left early the next day to relocate my little piece of heaven. I travelled the back roads of middle Louisiana and crossed the big river at Natchez, MS. The sun sets earlier in this part of the world, and I arrived at my location as it was going down. The next morning I drove my little red Jeep into the deep woods of South Mississippi and crossed Red Creek on the old City Bridge. I used to swim and fish here when I was a boy.

The hardwood trees showed a little fall color, and the tea colored water was as clear as I'd ever seen it. I stood on the bank and marvelled at the quietness. I met the survey crew at the assigned location and watched as they found and marked corners to use in their calculations. They marked the eastern boundary of the property and set out to hack their way through the brush for a quarter mile to the western side.

The blue dot on the line is the shoulder of one of the crew members who was hacking away with a machete through vines and over dead falls. I waited until they had completed the southern line and decided to walk through and see exactly where my property ended. The temperature was on the mild side of warm, but once I got my eighth of a ton moving it seemed to rise rapidly. Sharp spikes rose from the ground where saplings had been cut, large spiders put sticky webs in my way at eye level, and the remnants of dead trees felled by hurricane Katrina angled across the path. I stumbled along with my shoulders bent to avoid tangles of vines, some with large thorns, attached to almost every tree. My heart was pounding and sweat poured from my forehead. My boots felt like robot shoes. At some point, my left boot became entangled in some vines. My dynamo tried to push my girth forward, but one balance point was now trapped behind me and there was no stopping the impending wreck. My right foot tried valiantly to hop its way back into balance, but alas it failed. I raised my right hand and grabbed at a large vine I caught in my peripheral vision. It had thorns on it the size of medium sized nails, and I ripped off the ones embedded in the pads on the inside of my fingers. I fired my retro rockets and pushed off to the edge of the line to avoid the punji sticks directly ahead of me. The thud of my landing seemed to move something deep in the earth. I clamored to my feet and pulled the remnants of thorns from my hand and made for the little lane that runs down to my grandads old house. I walked slowly down the road, caught my breath and calculated what first aid equipment I might need when I got back to my jeep. Nothing in the kit for wounded pride. The thorn pricks would hurt for two days or so and abate, so I just drank some water and went into town for some good old Southern comfort food.

I now know where my property lies in relation to the sun's axis, and I reacquainted myself with friends and relatives in the area. My mission complete, I awoke at 2:30 AM and set out for Texas. Twelve and a half hours later I was home.

So this is how liberty dies. With thunderous applause. - George Lucas

Reloading

I ain't afraid if that's what you think. The poetry was just a diversion to keep you liberal types busy while I was reloading. I am going to have to blog about these things because even my liberal relatives delete my salient comments to keep their friends from knowing there is someone like me in the bloodline. Well, I know you sneak by here for a peek everyday. This whole political thing we go through is not about having a big group hug at the end, its about accountability. I challenge you on your beliefs, and you challenge me on mine. It's biblical for those who are so inclined. In Proverbs 27:17 it says, "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." Our country has never had a peaceful political process and let's hope it never does. It is by airing and refining our different opinions that we come up with what is best for this country. You taught me well over these past eight years. I am going to return the favor by treating the President you selected with the same kindness and respect as you treated the one I selected. Maybe next time you will be more civil. Since I am just a cranky old man to some of you, I have chosen to include an article by a young, well educated journalist.

Americans Embrace Childish Unity

by Ben Shapiro

The Great Election of 2008 is over. Barack Obama is the 44th President of the United States.

Now is the time to ask what this election was about.

Here’s what this election was (set ital) not (end ital) about: Barack Obama. It was not about his record: He didn’t have one. It was not about his views, which are radical in the extreme. It was not about his associations:

Americans didn’t care about Wright, Ayers, or Khalidi. The media didn’t want Americans to know about Obama. Obama didn’t want Americans to know about Obama. And Americans didn’t want to know about Obama.

This election was not about John McCain. No one cared about McCain, except the liberal media that nominated him president after one win in New Hampshire.

This election was not about President George W. Bush. Bush was used as a punching bag by both sides -- and by election time, he was completely irrelevant.

And this election was certainly not about the issues. In the general election, Barack Obama campaigned as a centrist, titularly abandoning his more extreme positions to do so. He lied about his policies. And no one cared.
This election was about one thing and one thing only: Americans’ puerile need for unity through self-congratulatory, cathartic membership in a broad, transformative political movement.

For eight years, Americans have been engaged in hostile politics. And after eight years, Americans were sick of it.

That isn’t to America’s credit. Hostile politics -- hard-fought political conflict over the issues that matter -- is not a bad thing. It is precisely the sort of messy republicanism the founders embraced. Early elections were replete with mudslinging, character assassination, brawls and scandals.

They were also replete with some of the most substantive debate on policy ever put before mankind. Apparently, we’re no longer interested in the dirty business of politics. We’d rather feel ourselves part of a high-minded movement. Not the sort of movement that espouses particular policies -- not the antiwar movement, or the pro-life movement -- those movements are too divisive. We want to be part of a movement that is solely about us.

Barack Obama was the vessel for that movement. He was an utter cipher. But he embodied the need of the American public for unity by hearkening back to the ultimate unifying feature of American life: third-grade slogans. He spouted Hope and Change. He told us, “We’re All Americans.” He told us, “Yes, We Can.”

From any other politician, it would be ridiculous drivel. From a black candidate, it was inspiring. Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson didn’t talk like that -- they spoke the language of division. Because Obama spoke the language of unity, he had to be a moderate. So went our logic.

Barack Obama had us from the moment he said, “Hope.” In that moment, Obama accomplished two simultaneous transformations. First, he transformed himself into a moderate. Second, he transformed himself into a messianic figure, the object of our longing: the physical embodiment of America’s progression beyond racial conflict. If America wanted to move beyond conflict, what better way than to embrace a candidate who could end all racial conflict?

And the Obama campaign subtly played on this theme. They implied that if we voted against him, we were engaging in racial hatred; some supporters even implied America would undergo a race war if he lost. That’s the last thing we wanted.

We wanted to feel good again. That is what the Great Election of 2008 was about. It was about Americans’ desire to feel a part of Something Larger. To do something together, as Americans. In today’s day and age, that Something Larger cannot be the America Ronald Reagan preached about -- the left has attacked that America as racist, sexist, and selfish. That Something Larger had to be an individual who could provide us with the feeling of unity.

Barack Obama told us that we could do Something Larger simply by voting for him. When he said, “Yes We Can,” and we followed by screaming it, chanting it, shouting his name in unison, we were Doing Something Larger. We were uniting.

America has always recognized that unity for its own sake is useless at best and dangerous at worst. Unifying behind a mysterious charismatic figure promising transformational change may make us feel good, but it is a betrayal of the open and honest governmental debate our Founding Fathers sought and so many Americans have fought and died to preserve.

Americans think they grew up during Election 2008. They think they moved beyond the past. In one way they did. In another, more important way, they regressed dramatically -- to a time before politics mattered. In the next four years, there will be plenty of growing up to do.

Ben Shapiro, 24, is a graduate of UCLA and Harvard Law School. He is the author of the new book "Project President: Bad Hair and Botox on the Road to the White House," as well as the national bestseller "Brainwashed: How Universities Indoctrinate America's Youth." To find out more about Ben Shapiro and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

A little nonsense now and then, is relished by the wisest men.
- Anonymous

Night Blogging

It is Tuesday already. Yesterday was a bust for blogging, so I find myself trying this in the dark of early morning. We have a house keeper come every two weeks, and I have to find a place to light while she is here. Little Ava was feeling poorly and needed extra Pappy time, and I had to go to the gym to make up for missing on my gout days. By the time I got back and read e-mails and comments I had lost my creative edge. This morning at 3:30 A.M., my body woke me up to remind me I wasn't a teen anymore and should probably take shoulder pulls out of my routine. After sitting on the couch with an ice bag on my neck, I decided to give this a try. I am trying hard to stay away from overtly political posts to give my friends who are Democrats time to heal. I have a good friend who does a lot of research on his on and sends me his work. This post should be classified as neutral politically. This is something I didn't know, and it is something we all should know regardless of political affiliation. I'm sure he won't mind me sharing. I think it is very timely in light of our current economic woes.

Well, there is always something to learn, at least for me. I have just been doing a little research on the the Federal Reserve. Briefly: It was put in place by Woodrow Wilson, arguably our first liberal president.

It gives the national power to print,control, and produce money to the banks rather than the federal government.

It is allegedly unconstitutional as the Constitution specifically states that only Congress shall have the power to produce coinage. Section 8 of the Constitution states that Congress shall have the power "To coin Money, regulate the Value thereof, and of foreign Coin, and fix the Standard of Weights and Measures"...

In 1936 the Congress brought a bill to "restore" the power given to the Federal Reserve to Congress. The bill failed.

In 1963, John Kennedy abolished the Federal Reserve. He was killed three weeks later and LBJ rescinded Kennedy's decree. Now that could be a bit of fodder for conspiracy theorists which I don't think has been considered.

For those of you who may not know, this is the short version of how it works. It is made up of private banks and is not part of the federal government. In simple terms, the United States Government borrows money from the Federal Reserve Bank with interest. For example, The Government wants $1 billion. The Federal Reserve prints $1 billion - based upon no hard asset - and lends it to the Government at a high interest rate.

The bank did not have the original money, it created it and made a bookkeeping entry - like you writing yourself a check without funds and cashing it. The Federal Reserve controls the flow of money, making it tight and creating unemployment or printing more than actually exists and creating inflation. It is, in essence, a paper corporation, which controls the entire economic well-being of the nation. And remember, according to the Constitution, only the Congress is supposed to possess these powers. So who are these banks which have so much power over both us and our government? For starters, Standard and Poor reports that 47% of them are foreign owned. Here is a list of the main movers and shakers in the Federal Reserve:

1. Rothchild banks of London and Berlin.
2. Lazard Brothers Banks of Paris.
3. Israel Moses Seif Banks of Italy.
4. Warburg Bank of Hamburg and Amsterdam.
5. Lehman Brothers Bank of New York.
6. Kuhn, Loeb bank of New York.
7. Chase Manhattan Bank of New York, which controls all of the other 11 Federal Reserve Banks.
8. Goldman, Sachs Bank of New York.

Lehman Brothers, now where have I heard about them recently?

I will close with a quote from Thomas Jefferson:"If the American people ever allow private banks to control the issuance of their currency, first by inflation and then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the people of all their property until their children will wake up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered."

Trick or Treating may be a little difficult this Halloween.

Storm Watch

As you can imagine we have been involved in a storm watch over the past few days. Thanks for all your concern on our behalf. Ike is apparently turning in a more northerly direction and is predicted to make land fall on Saturday morning in between Corpus Christi and Houston. We will continue to watch, but at this time we appear to be in the clear. While we are thankful for not being directly in the path, we continue to pray that Ike will huff himself out over the Gulf. I have tried everything from the sickly sweet, to the brutal truth and some things in between. At each point of departure, I seem to find some followers, some ho-hummers, and some who disagree. I enjoy the mix. I am not really a photographer, wildlife expert, flower guru, or keeper of the family chronicle. I may at times cover one or more of these subjects to fulfill the requirements of a meme, but balderdash is still my forte. I never said I wouldn't post political between now and November, I just said it would be nice if we could end the banter. Apparently the Democrats can't, so I'll be forced to answer in kind.

I never did give them hell. I just told the truth, and they thought it was hell. - Harry S Truman

When a thing is funny, search it carefully for a hidden truth. - George Bernard Shaw

Stressless Weekend

I had a fairly un-stressful Saturday. I went through my usual routine for the morning, making coffee (I had coffee and filters - no stress), reading the local newspaper, checking the blog (but not writing anything- no stress) and going with Bebe to our little Jackson Street Market Day. It was shorter than usual, so I was able to see it in record time. We ate out and refused to order more than we could eat so we were in fine. I returned home and did some chores, took a short motorcycle ride, and then settled in for all the college football I could watch in between naps. In short, I refused to do anything yesterday to cause stress. It is Sunday and I plan to continue my journey by beaching my raft in some secluded cove with a quiet beach and keeping my mind hooks in neutral. Any thought coming through with the potential to cause stress will be allowed to pass with very little cognitive energy. I hope you are able to do the same. Maxine has some a short list of things that cause stress.

Reminds me of my safari in Africa. Somebody forgot the corkscrew and for several days we had to live on nothing but food and water. - W. C. Fields

Wonder what the poor folks are doing?

If you have any of the items mentioned in today's post please don't feel obligated to defend yourself to me. When I was a little boy, I thought we did just fine. I had no problems with our house or with anyone else's for that matter. We didn't have television, but then not many people did back then. We lived close enough to the "quarters" to walk there and we didn't feel superior when we arrived. We had enough to eat, and we had a nice dry place to sleep and carry on the other functions of life. To tell you the honest truth, I don't remember when I started wondering if what we had stacked up against other folks. I imagine it might have been in my teens. I can remember hearing my dad say, "Don't ever park a Cadillac in front of a Ford house." It was usually when we passed by some hovel of a house with a big T.V. antenna attached to the side. I didn't understand the remark until many years later. I am keenly aware of the emotion that caused him to utter that line now that I am in the early fall of my own life. I was driving behind a Lincoln pick-up truck this morning and I said to Bebe, "Why would anyone want a Lincoln pick-up truck?" I look at a truck as utility transportation. In my mind they should be sufficiently dinged up so you don't have to worry about where you go in one. I get a similar feeling when I see a decked out Hummer parked in the "Hood". I know how much they cost, and I get this feeling that something is out of balance in the picture. I also get the same feeling when I see people with lots of money with a zillion times more stuff than anyone could ever use in a life time. My second cousin was in his eighties when they struck a big oil well on his meager property. Of course he had maintained the mineral rights and was entitled to a pretty big check every month. I had never seen him wearing anything but bib overalls. His house did not have running water when I visited there as a child. He lived in poverty all of his life. He was sitting on a piece of cardboard under a tree watching the oil well in its final stages. The driller came over and asked him what he was thinking about and he, still wearing his bib overalls and chewing a plug of Reynold's Natural Leaf, said, "I was just wondering what the poor folks are doing?" What kinds of things cause you to do a double take?

If there's anything unsettling to the stomach, it's watching actors on television talk about their personal lives. - Marlon Brando

Psychotherapy

I quit therapy because my analyst was trying to help me behind my back. - Richard Lewis

The more I consider the blogging world, the more I consider psychotherapy. When I was working on my MS in Psychology, the professors told me I should enroll in therapy. They said I lacked empathy. I had been in law enforcement for a number of years by then and had a different standard of what constituted a crisis. My curt responses caused many of the not so seasoned students to cry, and this was of concern to the faculty. I did enroll, finished the program, got my degree, and after a short stint sharing my new found empathy with clients, I quit and went back into law enforcement. When I returned to the streets, I applied the things I learned. For example, when I gave the Miranda warning to arrested suspects, I would say; "You have the right to remain silent. (pause) How do you feel about that?" It drove my partners crazy. Now that you know me, can you imagine me ever not having empathy? Well, I am a little worried about all of us in the blogging world. What would you tell a therapist about the people you've met? (I use the term 'met', in the loose definition of cyber chatter.) I almost feel compelled to write something everyday. I tried to back off just a little with the Miser post just to see how you would react. I posted a picture with a quote below it - not one of you said how weird that was. Most of you left very nice comments. I think some of you probably thought I had a minor brain injury after my fall and just wanted to be kind. Actually I hit my arm and my knee, so no excuse available there. I guess I've been brainwashed. Perhaps I've been programed to allow suggestion from outside sources to be fed into my brain when I'm on line. Anyway, I thought I would post late today to give everyone ample time to respond to Misers. Hope your week was a great one.

I often quote myself. It adds spice to my conversation. - George Bernard Shaw

The Bigger They Are....

The movie, nor the picture, have anything to do with this post. I was going strictly for the title. Do you remember the saying; "The bigger they are, the harder they...."? How did you finish that saying? "Fall?" Well, at different times in life I have modified the ending to fit the situation, but yesterday I finished it in the traditional fashion. I was recovering nicely from the little effects of the viral or bacterial malady that kept me inside for most of the weekend and decided to do a little work on my motorcycle. I took the windshield off and cleaned it of the stickers the previous owner had attached, and I rode for a while without the windshield just to prove I still could. I decided to lower the level of the windshield one notch before I re-installed it, and I used a rubber mallet to move the flexible insert into position. After I finished, I laid the rubber mallet down and rode to the mall to meet Bebe for lunch. I loved the results of my adjustments. After lunch, I decided to ride home and clean up before Bebe got back. It was HOT. I was fine as long as the bike was moving, but when I stopped, the heat and humidity combined with the heat off the motorcycle engine and caused me to leak. I pulled the bike into the garage and turned it off. I removed my helmet and gloves and retrieved my cell phone from the saddle bags. I was intent on making a fast break for the coolness of the air conditioned house, but I spotted the rubber mallet I used to adjust the windshield. Now in way of explanation, I have one side of my garage free of clutter to accommodate our family car. The other side is a maze of assorted tools, bikes, chemicals, exercise equipment, and other junk. I know how to carefully navigate the little spaces between all this stuff to get to whatever I need next. The key words here are "carefully navigate". I had on my big motorcycle boots, and my sunglasses. I was carrying my cell phone, and the rubber mallet I intended to hang on my peg board against the wall. As I carelessly weaved between our bicycles and my fertilizer spreader, I somehow lost my balance. It was like the slow-mo segment on the Wide World of Sports agony of defeat footage where the ski jumper looses it at the bottom of the jump and tumbles to the bottom of the hill. I instinctively dropped everything I could to make some vain attempt to use my hands to try and slow the progress of the 245 lbs. of jello as it jiggled its way toward the concrete floor. As my eyes scanned the landing area, I realized to my horror that an air compressor was occupying that very spot. I locked my feeble landing gear in place and tried to guide them to either side of the compressor. The inside of my left forearm failed to clear completely and provided some useless friction. The evidence can be clearly seen and felt this morning. My frame proved to be of sufficient strength to not only stop me, but allow me to hobble into the house afterward. The smell of Tiger Balm fills the air of my office today. I am thinking I should probably weigh around 145 lbs. to maintain the proper weight to stopping power ratio. All systems are functional, but tender, today and I will probably avoid strenuous activity for another day or two.

Walking my Coffee

The weekend is gone and I am trying to get used to feeling good again. I have for several days been out of sorts, with some type of malady concocted by terrorists who use innocent children to do their dirty work. This morning however, I awoke with a sense of normalcy and decided to take my coffee for a walk. Now, for those of you who have never tried this I must insert a word of caution here; Dogs are one thing, but a steaming travel mug full of coffee is an entirely different animal. I knew my mug was feeling left out when I went out the door in the mornings with hardly a "howdy do", so I decided to take it with me this morning. I poured the dark brown elixir from the stainless steel carafe into my insulated travel mug with the faded advertisements on the outside, and secured the slotted lid so the sip hole was perfectly centered. This is a critical step when you plan to walk your coffee. Any deviation from center could cause you problems. I did a test sip and confirmed my initial observation about the temperature of the brew with the tip of my tongue and top lip. I was sure the feeling would return as soon as the swelling subsided. South Texas mornings in August are very similar to many other places' noon temperatures. My pores opened almost immediately. I started with my concentrated, heel first roll to toe, walking step to accommodate the rounded center sole of my Chang Shi shoes. These shoes were designed to take weight out of your wallet and give you the stride of a Masai warrior. I have seen Masai warriors on the Discovery channel and I don't think any of them know what it's like trying to untrack 245 pounds of sixty year old jello. I fell into a comfortable pace and nodded to several dog walkers who turned in amazement at the sight of someone walking their coffee. The real test is how well coordinated you are when you open the sip hole and bring the cup to your lips while in full stride. The gravitational effect of that much moving jello is significant, so timing your sip, blow, swallow, breath routine is of primary importance. I soon had it down. The only other point of difficulty came near the end of the walk when my mug was near empty and I had to turn it skyward to suck out the last few drops. With my head tilted backward and the travel cup covering my nose and obstructing my vision, I had to be very careful not to get off course. My mug was thrilled as we turned the corner and it realized the air conditioned kitchen was only a few paces away. I intend to make this a regular routine. I would advise those who are not practiced in the art, to start with iced coffee. Have a wonderful week. Pappy

Advertising is the modern substitute for argument; its function is to make the worse appear the better. - George Santayana

Postponed Aggression

"Wait till I get out of this pool and I'll show you what's funny and what's not."

Sometimes I feel like this old cat looks. Folks just do things that right thinking people shouldn't do, and deep in my soul I feel like I should let them know about it. I hate it when people on the service road ignore the huge yellow yield signs and pinch me off at the exit ramp. I really want to follow them home and ask them to go with me to the Department of Public Safety so they can re-take their driver's test. In the old days I was known to follow people home and ask them some basic questions about civilized behavior. I was not the big Teddy Bear looking animal I am today. Today I know my limitations. I am resigned to glaring at the offenders while assailing them with some of my best, near profanity, euphemisms. "You pencil necked geek!" "You have to be a living brain transplant donor!" "Enroll in the literacy center." It is really stressful not being able to take immediate and decisive action anymore. I never heard my dad use profanity. His favorite expressions were adaptations like "I'll swannee to goodness", and "dadgumit." Being in law enforcement for thirty years nearly ruined me. I was usually able to make the segue from work to home, but on occasion I would slip in the heat of the moment.

I also get riled at people who enter at the "exit" doors of the grocery store and stare at you as you try and push past them to get out. I want to say, "What does 'Exit' mean on your planet?" How about those morons who shift into lower than low gear when you stop to let them walk in front of your car. They actually have the gall sometimes to stop and turn around to address some relative on the sidewalk who can't decide whether to move or stay. They don't know how close they are to being gently nudged by the bumper of my little red jeep. And how about those driving school dropouts who park so crooked that it invalidates the parking space next to them? I have dreams about sitting on their bumpers until they get ready to leave and then breaking out all the lights on their vehicles with a big Buford Pusser hickory limb. They don't realize how lucky they are I have mellowed in my old age. Oh, and all of you folks who think that leaving a shopping cart anywhere on the parking lot is a constitutionally guaranteed right - it's not.

If I could only get a sustained initiative for a month or two and stay on my diet and go to the gym, some of you would reap the whirlwind. But alas, I am less than motivated these days. I can sustain for about a week and then I fall off the wagon. So, unless some of you young bucks step up to the plate, I'm afraid we will be overrun by the "I'm too stupid to be alive" crowd.


All the world's a cage. - Jeanne Phillips