What’s good for the goose…

A young woman was about to finish her first year of college. Like so many others her age, she considered herself to be a very liberal Democrat, and was very much in favor of the distribution of wealth.

She was deeply ashamed that her father was a rather staunch Republican, a feeling she openly expressed. Based on the lectures that she had participated in, and the occasional chat with a professor, she felt that her father had for years harbored an evil, selfish desire to keep what he thought should be his.

One day she was challenging her father on his opposition to higher taxes on the rich and the addition of more government welfare programs. The self-professed objectivity proclaimed by her professors had to be the truth and she indicated so to her father.

He responded by asking how she was doing in school.

Taken aback, she answered rather haughtily that she had a 4.0 GPA, and let him know that it was tough to maintain, insisting that she was taking a very difficult course load and was constantly studying, which left her no time to go out and party like other people she knew. She didn’t even have time for a boyfriend, and didn’t really have many college friends because she spent all her time studying.

Her father listened and then asked, “How is you friend Audrey doing?”

She replied, “Audrey is barely getting by. All she takes are easy classes, she never studies, and she barely has a 2.0 GPA. She is so popular on campus, college for her is a blast. She’s always invited to all the parties, and lots of times she doesn’t even show up for classes because she’s too hung over.”

Her wise father asked his daughter, “Why don’t you go to the Dean’s office and ask him to deduct a 1.0 off your GPA and give it to your friend who only has a 2.0. That way you will both have a 3.0 GPA and certainly that would be a fair and equal distribution of GPA.”

The daughter, visibly shocked by her father’s suggestion, angrily fired back, “That wouldn’t be fair! I have worked really hard for my grades! I’ve invested a lot of time, and a lot of hard work! Audrey has done next to nothing toward her degree. She played while I worked my tail off!”

The father slowly smiled, winked and said gently, “Welcome to the Republican Party.”

(From an email from my MUCH older sister)

Our A**holes are BIGGER than YOUR A**holes…

Talking about politicians who represent YOUR state. Check out one of OUR senators:

Landrieu: We might have been better off if terrorists had blown up the levees

Louisiana Senator blasts federal response, bias she says that favors Mississippi

10:05 AM CST on Monday, January 29, 2007

WWLTV.com

Louisiana Democratic Senator Mary Landrieu had harsh words for the federal government on the eve of hearings into the progress of rebuilding the Gulf Coast following Hurricanes Katrina and Rita.

Landrieu blamed the government for much of the devastation caused by Katrina and for the slow pace of recovery in Louisiana.

“I often think we would have been better off if the terrorists had blown up our levees,� she said. “Maybe we’d have gotten more attention.�

The truth of the matter is that the federal government has dumped a huge amount of money into Louisiana already, and with the all too predictable result. The billions earmarked to help people rebuild homes damaged by hurricanes Rita and Katrina are held by the state while a cozy deal with a contractor has made the average person’s access to that money a matter of navigating a typical Louisiana bureaucracy fraught with plans and forms and interviews. The contractor has multiple thousands of applications for help, but has only issued a few dozen checks.

The work in New Orleans is not being held up for lack of money, it’s being held up because New Orleans has about as much of a plan for rebuilding as it did for evacuating its citizens before the hurricane, i.e., NONE. Of course, there have been plenty of consultants and town-hall meetings, all funded with your dollars. They just don’t have a plan yet.

But that’s New Orleans. And Louisiana in general as pertains to our government. Over here in the land devastated by “the hurricane that didn’t happen” the areas hit by Hurricane Rita, life is getting marvelously on. Despite a new layer of requirements and standards for rebuilding, people ARE rebuilding. Businesses are open in Cameron, that little town flattened by Rita, and more are opening every week. Holly Beach, wiped clean, has the beginnings of new birth.

It’s totally amazing what happens when you have REAL people who take responsibility for their lives instead a whining that the latest government handout isn’t enough.

And Governess Blanco and Senator “Katrina Mary” Landieu have a vested interest in repopulating New Orleans because without that big bloc of New Orleans dimmocrat votes, NEITHER of them would be in office today…

Why am I not surprised?

The daily pass by Anarchangel gets me to yet another online test.

I am:

Robert A. Heinlein

Beginning with technological action stories and progressing to epics with religious overtones, this take-no-prisoners writer racked up some huge sales numbers.

Which science fiction writer are you?

I do not find this surprising in the least. I am a big Heinlein fan. I have read everything of his I can get my hands on, much of it multiple times.

Give peace a chance…

I walked into the house the other day, having left the radio on a local “oldies” station, and I confess that I was overcome by a wave of nausea. What was on was John (I’m a stupid commie shill) Lennon and Yoko (Nobody ever heard of me until I boinked a Beatle) Ono singing their trademark moonbat hymn, Give Peace a Chance. Here’s an excerpt from that that timeless piece of poetry:

Two, one, two, three, four
Ev’rybody’s talking about
Bagism, Shagism, Dragism, Madism,
Ragism, Tagism
This-ism, That-ism, is-m, is-m, is-m
All we are saying is give piece a chance,
All we are saying is give piece a chance

Excuse me while I take a moment to heave…

Okay. I’m better now…

Well, bunkie, America bought into that pile of pure shit and after doing major damage to the Viet Cong in Viet Nam, the war was lost at home with the help of stellar characters like John and Yoko, Walter Cronkhite and Hanoi Jane Fonda.

Proving that politics has little connection with any reality other that succumbing to the fickle winds of public opinion, President Nixon negotiated America out of Viet Nam, leaving southeast Asia in the hands of lovable Uncle Ho and others of his Marxist ilk.

Meanwhile, that supreme font of knowledge of all things pertaining to human nature and international relations, John Lennon, is wowing the crowds with yet another anthem of moonbattery, “Imagine”:

Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

You may say that I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one

In 1975, South Viet Nam fell to the forces of North Viet Nam. South Viet Nam’s army lacked the backing of major support with the departure of America. North Viet Nam had no such handicap, being supplied by Red China and the Soviet Union, had the wherewithal to overrun the South, and then we saw what really come forth from Hanoi Jane’s lovable Uncle Ho and his minions. The South Vietnamese were killed by the thousands and many more who weren’t killed outright died in “re-education” camps or died while trying to escape the country by whatever means they found available. From the exodus of South Viet Nam, we gained a new term, “Boat people”.

While Vietnamese were dying from the tender cares of Uncle Ho, John Lennon and Hanoi Jane continued their revolution from the comforts of multi-million -dollar homes. It’s easy to be a revolutionary when you have millions and maids.

It wasn’t quite as easy to be a revolutionary in Cambodia, where Pol Pot came to power in the southeast Asian vacuum left by America’s departure. 25% of the country died while Lennon fans and ignorant “peace activists” everywhere grooved to Lennon’s lyrics, “Nothing to kill or die for”.

But those inconvenient facts were given no import by the Left, and so today we have the same empty heads spewing the same tired and deadly rhetoric. They and a compliant media are set on reliving their shining moment when they brought defeat tot he greatest military in the world, a defeat that would never be brought about on the battlefield. They don’t want to talk about the pits filled with bodies from the reigns of the Taliban in Afghanistan or Saddam in Iraq. All these people want to do is exercise their “power” to bring down the Presidency and shut down the American military again.

While they sit back and spout recycled anti-war rhetoric, they ignore the history created by their last victory.

But then, who cares? After all, we’re talking about little brown people in some far away land, aren’t we?

Unfortunately that’s not the case any more. Uncle Ho didn’t have a jihadi branch waiting to do the big thing in the Great Satan. Uncle Ho wasn’t preaching the killing of children in America. Uncle Ho didn’t pop up on television applauding his army’s killing of 3000 American civilians. Uncle Ho wasn’t infiltrating soldiers into America, and despite the presence of communist parties in every First World country, Uncle Ho didn’t have a foothold in Europe.

Our enemy today has all those. And yet the moonbats march. The evidence is plain for those who wish to see. The Islamist enemy isn’t couching its words at all. You don’t ahve to search deeply to find spokesman after spokesman for the Islamists telling us exactly what their goals are: convert or die.

And yet the moonbats march. And the gutting of America’s power on the world stage, if carried to its logical conclusion, would result in a culture where the first victims would be … MOONBATS. The only reason we can allow these idiots to go mainstream is that we have the unbelievable luxury of living in a land that is both secure and blessed with abundance of material things. It’s easy to go march and sing when you know that a Constitution protects you and that you don’t have to work in a field as as subsistance farmer. It’s easy to be a “revolutionary” when you know that the religious police won’t haul you off for stoning for your choice of lifestyle. It’s easy to be a “revolutionary” when you know that the secret police won’t drag you into a windowless building and administer a single bullet to the back of the neck.

I can only hope that the moonbats don’t get what would be coming to them if they get their way…

The Name Game LXIII

The sun’s out this fine Sunday morning, after yesterday’s rain. It’s seasonably cool, and I just finished a fine cup of Papua-New Guinea Kimel Estate coffee, roasted last week, ground fresh this morning, and brewed in a nifty little moka pot. Now I’m sitting here absorbing the Sundayness and it’s time to work on the birth announcements in the Sunday papers.

This morning I see 72 announcements from two different hospitals. Twenty-five of those births are to mommies and dads who either put the cart before the horse or decided that they didn’t need no stinkin’ cart and horse anyway. Seven of these new mommies are still searching for the answer to the question of “where did THIS come from?”

Getting on with the project, let’s look at that class of society that has decided that names should be pulled out of thin air, or out of some body orifice. So here we go:

Trent & Rachel H. produced a new daughter and made up a name for her: Caitrin Leigh

Ricky & Catrina (Yep! “Katrina” with a “C”!) F. went bonkers with their new baby girl, tagging her with Shonika Rackel. “Shonika?” “Sho’ ‘nuf!” And they KNEW better than to let their crowd try to wrap a tongue around “Raquel”, so that’s what you get…

Frederick & Taneka V. are angling for their son’s success in the NBA, calling him Jemarcus James. Apparently this is a common move, because Miss Crystal S. named her new son LoVon Demar.

Derrick & Talisha W. have a new little girl, Derricka Germai. “Germai”?

Steven L. and Erin P. figured there weren’t enough vowels in the world, so they installed several in their new daughter’s name, little Baleigh Danielle. Ask yourself, why didn’t they go with “Bailey” instead?

Mr. & Mrs. William F. have a new son, and they figured they’d make him sound special, so they named him Quintarious Eugene.

Marquita F. named her baby girl Kamryn Anjali. She didn’t name de baby daddy…

Miss Tisha G. has a new baby girl, little Heaven Lei. I’m serious, people: “Heaven Lei”. I don’t make this crap up, ya’ll!

And now we have the folks who aren’t imprisoned by twenty-six letters of the alphabet.

Samson & Charity K. have a new little girl, Ja’Sayah Natali. Note that they follow the rule that says “Capitalize the first letter after the goofy-a**ed apostrophe.”

Joshua F. and Anquaila H. have a new daughter, little Ja’Tasia Lenae. I guess if your name is “Anquaila”, then Ja’Tasia isn’t THAT big a leap…

Mr. & Mrs. Damion B. present their new baby girl, little Sa’Renity Alajah Neshelle. Yep! A triple. And a misspelling of a common word. And TWO made-up names. Pretty good, dontcha think?

Hope H. & Patrick L. give us their new daughter, too, little Bryah J’Tori. Note the brave, ground-breaking use of TWO adjacent upper-case consonants separated by punctuation. This belies a very high level of sophistication.

And there is one name in today’s issue that I feel has the qualification for “Name of the Week”. Mr. & Mrs. Irving F. have a new baby girl, and they tagged the little darling with Ta’Kyra LaSauna MaHaven. Three names. SIX capital letters, and they threw in an apostrophe in the intersts of good taste and innovation.

Washing the dog…

A young boy, about eight years old, was at the store picking out a large box of laundry detergent. The grocer walked over and, trying to be friendly, asked the boy if he had a lot of laundry to do.

“Oh, no laundry,” the boy said. “I’m going to wash my dog.”

“But you shouldn’t use this to wash your dog. It’s very powerful and if you wash your dog in this, he’ll get sick. In fact, it might even kill him.”

But the boy was not stopped by this and carried the detergent to the counter and paid for it, even as the grocer still tried to talk him out of washing his dog.

About a week later the boy was back in the store doing some shopping. The grocer asked the boy how his dog was doing.

“Oh, he died,” the boy said.

The grocer said, “I tried to tell you not to use that detergent on your dog.”

“Well,” the boy replied, “I don’t think it was the detergent that killed him.”

“Oh I’m sorry. How did he die?”

“I think it was the spin cycle.”

I was ALMOST a hero…

A few years back, I was employed by the local BIG electrical utility as a system protection foreman. It was a pretty good job, and most days it entailed me visiting various electrical substations around my area of responsibility. One particular morning I was on the road, having visited one of my crews working in a big switchyard which interfaced a powerplant with the electrical distribution grid.

I left them and headed west down a semi-country road. I noted in the rearview mirror of my van that there was a woman in a mid-sized sedan following me pretty closely. I maintained my speed, knowing that the last thing I wanted to do was get a speeding ticket while driving a company vehicle.

I said it was a semi-country road. This was made obvious when an armadillo ambled out of the ditch and started across the road in front of me. Now, given the choice, I will not run over the local wildlife, and I saw the armadillo in plenty of time to swerve and avoid him., so I did. I looked up intot he rear-view mirror to see if he made it across, and that is when I saw the gal behind me jerk HER wheel to avoid the same little critter.

She lost control, skidded sideways, then her car hit the drainage ditch alongside the road and flipped. I grabbed my radio and made an emergency call to the service center with the location of the accident, and I pulled off the road, braking heavily. I jumped out of the van with my jacket and first-aid kit, expecting to find blood and guts all over the inside of that little car. What I did find was a very shaken up young lady hanging from her seat-belt. I helped her get out of the car. She flipped open her cellphone and called her boss, the owner of the car. I waited with her until help arrived.

And the armadillo? Apparently all the action befuddled him and he stayed in the middle of the road where he was flattened by a passing dump truck…

Driving while thinking…

Or vice versa.

I spent a goodly amount of time on the road this week, skittering from one compressor station to another, peeking at things that might have been MY problem, only to find out that the ball belongs in somebody else’s arena. In doing all that driving, I listen to the radio, you know those troublesome conservative talk shows like Rush Limbaugh and our state equivalent, Moon Griffon, and Sean Hannity. I shouldn’t do that. It makes me really, really angry.

A lot of folks don’t know that Louisiana is in the state it’s in because we elected a “populist” for a governor back a few decades ago, one Huey Long. He swept into office promising a chicken in every pot, and in order to provide all those chickens, he leaned heavily on taxing business and industry. As a result, Louisiana has an inordinate number of state employees and a system of taxes and fees that work very hard to kill business prospects in this state. The only thing that saves us is that we have a few geographical advantages that can offset the premiums a business must pay in taxes to be here. It’s hard to ship out of the heartland of America if you don’t take advantage fo the Mississippi River, and if you’re going to do things like refine oil, situating yourself along the Mississippi River on the east side of the state, or the Calcasieu River on the west side, those two little geographical features will save a lot of money, offsetting a lot of tax burdens.

the flip side, of course, is that a lot of companies who used to be based in New Orleans but that did not need the geographical location ahve long since pulled up stakes for less taxing territory, like those nasty places in Texas, like Houston.

Which brings me to an observation: Louisiana is still a decent place to make a living if you’re of a mind to. I’m here. I have been middle-class successful since the day I shucked my green fatigues in 1977. Yes, I could have been equally successful in other locales, but this is where my roots are. Family ancestors have been here since the British ran us out of Acadia (Nova Scotia) in the middle 1700’s. Roots count for something, and this is where family is. I still count family over money, so I’m still here.

But Louisiana is only able to support the profligacies of its socialist leanings BECAUSE of the success of me and thousands of other productive citizens. Our taxes and a very healthy influx of Federal dollars allow us to keep a big segment of non-producers sheltered and fed. Hurricane Katrina was like kicking over a rotten log in this state. You knew something was under there, but you just weren’t sure how ugly it was. The country saw just how ugly the underside of New Orleans was.

I have news: New Orleans isn’t alone in its plight as it refers to the permanent underclass. This area has it, and people know it. I watched a middle-class neighborhood drop down the toilet after our local “progressive” social engineers decided that locating a government housing project in the neighborhood would be good for the “poor” who would soon occupy it. When a quiet working-class neighborhood awoke to find unheard-of crime problems, break-ins, molestations, muggings, drugs, they abandoned the place. The whole neighborhood dropped to the level of the underclass as the wage-earners did what people who earn a living CAN do: they moved.

You wander what allowing Hillary Clinton and the left-wing side of the Democrat Party would do to this country? Pass your eye down here to Louisiana and see what we have. America will get the same.

The only up side to this is that FINALLY Louisiana will get some competition at the bottom of all those lists.

Oh, the joy….

Of having a dimmocrat governess…

I don’t know what else she can do to make Louisiana look bad in the eyes of the nation. We manage a streak of last places in every good indicator like roads and high school graduation rates, but we get high marks in tax burdens and illiteracy.

And she went ballistic when President Bush did a whole State of the Union message and neglected to mention poor Louisiana and Hurricane Katrina. Everything is Bush’s fault, natch, being as how she’s a dimmocrat of the pandering moonbat variety, and he’s a Republican.

And cartoonist Steve Kelley of the NO Times-Picayune has his take:

It's Bush's fault!

When I was born…


In 1950 (the year you were born)


Harry Truman is president of the US

Masked bandits steal $2.8 million from Brink’s in Boston


35 US military advisers are sent to South Vietnam to aid the anti-Communist government

US Senator Joe McCarthy begins his crusade against suspected Communists in the US government

North Korea invades South Korea

President Harry S. Truman announces a program to develop the hydrogen bomb

In South Africa, the Group Areas Act is passed formally segregating races

Peter Gabriel, Jay Leno, Bill Murray, and Stevie Wonder are born

New York Yankees win the World Series

Cleveland Browns win the NFL championship

Detroit Red Wings win the Stanley Cup

I, Robot by Isaac Asimov is published

Lifted from Lisa at Lemons & Lollipops

Three years

On this date in 2004 I posted the first post to my own little blog, set up that very evening on Blogspot. Now, three years and 2152 posts later, here I am. Over that three years this thing has logged 183,000 hits, an amount I find quite satisfying for the amount of effort it takes me on the frequent occasion that I sit down and write something.

I see around 250 visits a day, a nice number, and some of you visit often enough to where we know each other, at least as much as you can know somebody by this medium. I’ve talked with one or two of you on the phone, and exchanged emails with several others, and one of you was even there the day my boat sank. It’s an odd way to make friends, but I consider that I have a bunch of friends from this thing.

So, I guess I’ll just keep on going. I have fun. I hope you folks do, too.

So there were two football games…

I’m not the biggest sports fan in the world by a looooong stretch, but I do occasionally enjoy watching a game. I used to love sitting in Dad’s living room watching the games with him. He was known for his famous “they don[t know what the hell they’re doing” statement, followed immediately by a switch to another channel if the game he was watching wasn’t to his liking.

I’m not that bad. I don’t arrange my Sunday schedule to make sure I can see a game, but on occasion I am around to catch one. Yesterday I caught two.

I noted with glee that Chicago stomped a new hole in the New Orleans Saints.

Maybe I’m warped. Maybe I should root for New Orleans. After all, Louisiana forked over fifteen million taxpayer dollars in cash last year to keep the Saints in New Orleans, and that’s not counting the bucks it took to refurbish the SuperDome after Hurricane Katrina filled it full of real Saints fans. New Orleans is the only city of 250,000 in the nation with a professional football team… The Saints have a lot in common with most of the former population of New Orleans: Neither of them would be there without my tax dollars…

I watched New England and Indianapolis battle to the final seconds, and breathed with relief when Indianapolis pulled that one off. It was a great game, even for a non-connoisseur such as me.

What this really means is that this year for the Super Bowl I can watch and I can feel good about either team winning. And I can enjoy the commercials.

Incidentally, I was sitting in Dad’s living room watching the game with him that LAST time Chicago won the Super Bowl…

Awwww!!! Give ’em another shot!

I stole this picture from VariFrank

Bill 'n' Hillary 1970

Yep, we already let the turd on the left have a shot at the presidency, now the one on the right wants her shot.

Whatdaya think?

Me, I look at that one and two thoughts come to mind: First, the hippy scumbag I punched in the LA airport in 1970 for spitting at me, and second, the old story about why one guy said he went to all those peace protests: “Man, hippy chicks are EASY, ya dig?”

And thank you, VariFrank, for putting that bad taste in my mouth again…