An open letter

I have been accused of emulating the Messiah and His Lord. Flattering as that is, I am not quite omniscent enough for that, because most of what I profess to believe, someone has told me to articulate. You have no doubt noticed that when I am off script, I tend to babble, with lots of "uh"s and "er"s. Of course, I only believe what I think you will approve, audience by audience, so, thinking up stuff on the spot is hard for me, because I can't imagine how the nonsense I've been told could ever be good for the country.

I wish I could be more like the Wizard of Oz. You know, someone who lurks in the shadows and makes unchallenged proclamations. Anonymity makes every ruling seem so much more important and worthy of compliance, and I could read it right off the paper. That's better than using a teleprompter. Sometimes, that damn thing has a glitch, and. . . but that's another story. . . .

So, please vote for me, and try to forget that my wife and my former pastor hate you and the United States. You know I love you. Didn't I just tell you how proper tire inflation and a tune-up will solve your gasoline dilemma? Anyway, when I'm elected, I'll punish the rich and the oil companies, because I know how vindictive you want me to be.

The man behind the curtain,
Barack Hussein Obama

Daily prayers (#400)

Our Father, who comes from Chicago, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, and we can plan to move to Canada. Give us this day our Wonder Bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we enjoy its artificially fortified tastelessness, and we forgive the terrorists who trespass against us. Lead us not into the temptation to object, but deliver us from our money. For Michelle and the Rev. Wright are Your inspriation, and You shall wreak vengeance on rich people and oil companies, until there are no jobs left, and we're all afoot forever, and ever, amen.

Hail Michelle, full of hate, the Lord sleeps with you. Respected art thou among bitches, for your powerful influence over the Obama. Mighty Michelle, pray for us misguided Americans, now and at the hour of our emigration. Amen.

Bad ideas

T. Boone Pickens said he cares. Now, we are learning what he cares about. Apparently, he has already bought a pant-load of windmills, and now he has to sell the idea that they work to the rest of us.

Arnold Schwartzenegger (The Guvernator) is doing something every teacher knows doesn't work. He has threatened to reduce the pay of all state workers to federal minimum wage, if the legislators don't pass the budget by Friday. Punishing everyone for the misdeeds of some is just unfair and ineffective. My comment on TV asked, "Does Arnold also kick his dog when his children misbehave?"

The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

Over the weekend, we took a road trip to the capitol to see my favorite musical, Sweeney Todd. It was a magical evening, in that we found the theatre without getting lost in the maze of one-way streets, and, upon leaving, we got to the freeway promptly, and avoided the construction area. By the way, the show was good, too.

It was my first experience with theatre-in-the-round, and being a traditionalist, I could see how much easier it could have been done on a proscenium-arch stage. However, because of the configuration of the venue, and even though we were in the penultimate row, we were quite close. Unlike the Johnny Depp film version, the performers could sing, and there was no blood. Come to think of it, most of the best musicals have been bloodless and melodic.

Earlier, in the afternoon, I had seen the John Travolta Hairspray on TV. Not my kind of music, and way too much dancing. It made the later Sweeney Todd the major palate cleansing of my life. Indeed, a magical evening.

ANOTHER "BY THE WAY:" The theatre was packed at $50+ per seat. What was that about a recession?

Gotta match?

Expanding on yesterday's reminiscence, there were also five-and-dime stores (Woolworth's, Kresge's [now K-Mart] and Grant's) which sold goods, the purveyance of which was usurped by the supermarkets, such as cleaning products, and items for personal grooming and hygiene. These stores were "downtown," and a special trip had to be undertaken every week or two.

Moving on, last night I learned that Bill Gates and Michael Bloomberg have joined the ranks of the holier-than- thou, and are investing a part of their vast fortunes in the effort to eradicate smoking. I stopped smoking eight years ago, because it seemed to be the thing to do, but it's a completely legal activity, and I resent anyone telling me I CAN'T smoke. I also repudiate class envy, but that doesn't mean rich people should be allowed to intrude in my personal life.

Nostalgia

When I was a child, many of the necessities of life were delivered directly to my house. . . first in horse-drawn wagons and later in motorized vehicles. Most homes were heated by COAL, and had basements with a coal bin, a small room accessed by a small metal outside door. At regular intervals, a chute was inserted, and a man deposited some coal. Before home refrigeration, the iceman would bring 50-100 pounds of ICE, and put it in the icebox. He and the milkman had free access to kitchens, because there was little reason to lock doors. It was a kinder, gentler time. We had a President about whom no one told lies, we were engaged in a war that everyone wanted to win, and people only asked for government assistance when they were truly in need.

The milkman sold various DAIRY products plus eggs, and came either on a predetermined schedule or when called. Also regularly scheduled was the LAUNDRY man, who picked up and delivered clothes for washing or dry cleaning. My uncle made an entire career of that. Other people did not deliver to the door, but they made their presence known on the street. Similar to the children's ice cream man who is still around today, they would appear in the neighborhood on most weekdays. Some sold BAKERY products, bread and treats made by Hostess, Nabisco, etc. (For special "homemade" baked goods there was a nice bake shop not too far away.) Costermongers brought fresh FRUITS and VEGETABLES to the neighborhood. It was very convenient for mothers who stayed home, kept their houses spotless, and raised the children.

Before the advent of the supermarket, the only comestibles housewives had to leave home to obtain were meat (our meat market [butcher shop] was a couple of blocks away), and groceries --- canned, bottled and packaged goods (cereal, sugar, beverages, etc.). The grocery store was usually adjacent to the bakery and the meat market, and every established neighborhood had them all. In our neighborhood, we even had a pie shop where a man made a living baking only extremely tasty pies (similar to Pushing Daisies, but without the sit-down). During the time of sugar rationing, however, part of the retail price was a cup or two of the precious crystals. So far, I have been unable to verify that Cheetos were invented in our neighborhood, but a shop sold "Corn Curls" before something similar appeared in grocery stores in cellophane bags.

Since I now live 20 miles from the nearest reasonably priced supermarket, I really long for those earlier times, especially when I suddenly run out of some foodstuff.

As published. . .

The only depressing thing about living in America is knowing that people like Elizabeth Morse are among us. [Letter to the Editor, 7/21] I don't believe I've ever seen so much hatred and class envy packed into one letter before. I can't decide whether to be angry, or just extremely sad. Because, as an American, she is free to say any miserable thing she wants, I can only suggest she go somewhere where I don't have to read or hear it. Apparently, any other country in the world would make her happier.

Therefore, I authorize you to give her my email address, and upon her request, and with the promise never to return, I will be pleased to buy her a one-way ticket to any foreign location that will mollify her. Perhaps she might enjoy Sudan, Zimbabwe or The Maldives (about as far away as you can get).

Y'all come back now, y'heah

Federal law requires that anyone with a commercial driver's license speak English well enough to communicate with police officers. Last year, authorities issued 25,230 tickets nationwide for violations.

Recently, Manuel Castillo, of Fowler, CA, who was hauling onions in Alabama, was stopped and fined $500 for being a "non-English speaking driver." When interviewed by AP, he said, "It just doesn't seem fair to be ticketed if I wasn't doing anything dangerous on the road." Does that sound like he doesn't speak English?

I've been to Alabama, and some of the locals don't speak English that well. Manuel is a permanent U.S. resident who has been driving for 20 years. He has an accent, but then, so does Ricardo Montalban. I guess it's lucky Ricardo is too old to haul his onions.

The law is reasonable, but the enforcement is too subjective, so the Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration has proposed rules requiring anyone applying for a commercial driver's license speak English during the road test and vehicle inspection. Better.

Welcome, George

Yesterday, President Bush visited the North State to view the wildfires and encourage the firefighters. My comment, as seen on TV, was:

["Of course, life won't change much because President Bush visited, but,] remembering the undeserved abuse he took over Katrina, he had to make a timely appearance. We were honored to have him, because we have always appreciated how much he cares about our safety, and we thank him for his humanity."

As Air Force I was taking off, I felt a surge of pride, and wondered whether or not it had a full tank of fuel. Of course, he was only going to Napa, a short hop, so maybe only a few pounds would be sufficient. I hope he didn't have to splash down in Clear Lake.

Late

Last night, I stayed up "past my bedtime" to watch Charlie Rose's interview of David Remnick, the editor of The New Yorker. It began with a discussion of the recent controversial cover parody, which, apparently, was clearly understood by the elite liberals who regularly read the magazine, and wasn't intended for the hoi polloi, who couldn't possibly understand that it was a criticism of the "lies" being told about Barack Obama. Then, Remnick made sport of President Bush, with no mention of the lies that have been told about him.

I don't read The New Yorker, and now I know why. Editor Remnick, on this, the occasion of his tenth anniversary, pointed with pride to several muckraking articles he had printed. Ever since Woodward and Bernstein turned a foolish, politically motivated, attempted break-in into a cause celebre, American "journalists" have been frantically searching for any bit of scandal that can make them famous. Remnick apparently publishes them, in the hope that some of the glitter of their potential Pulitzers will rub off on him.

Stop it!

1. On Thursday, the House Judiciary Committee threw a potential lynching party, and invited Karl Rove as the only guest. He declined to attend.

Some of the same people who had hounded him out of public service, now eschew the Fifth Amendment, and expect him to incriminate himself in a matter for which there is only the allegation of wrongdoing. As any other private citizen, he is not obliged to appear before Congress.

He may be erroneously charged with contempt of Congress, but that's another empty allegation, because all recent polls clearly indicate that 75-85% of all other Americans also have contempt for Congress.


2. Despite the repudiation by RINO presumptive candidate John McCain, his former financial advisor, Senator Phil Gramm was dead on about the economy. Nevertheless, McCain threw him under the bus for political reasons, and joined his opponent in pandering to the voters by feigning concern for their "plight," which is far less severe than the candidates imagine. Gramm pointed out that whining will not make things better, and McCain, who has plenty of backbone, apparently doesn't want those who don't, to fail to vote for him.


3. Another bit of propaganda snuck into the NBC Nightly News on Sunday. A feature story showed how a former Soviet bunker, from which they could have launched nuclear weapons, is now being used for all sorts of recreational activities (concerts, dances, movies, etc.), implying that there's a whole new fun-loving Russia, and completely ignoring the Sleeping Bear and Vladimir Putin, the Arouser, who are just waiting to pounce. As the people of Poland have said for centuries, "The Russian is coming" (in Polish, which I can say, but not spell).

Air travel

If you're planning to take a commercial air flight, please be advised that airlines, for cost cutting purposes, will now only carry as much fuel on board as they estimate will be needed to reach your destination. The question then arises, what if your flight encounters heavy headwinds or some other weather anomaly that prevents the plane from reaching and/or landing at your destination?

Who wants to hear:
"This is your captain speaking. We can't land here in the city where your grandma lives, because of wind/rain/snow/fog/power outage/or whatever, and we have run out of fuel. Anybody got any ideas?"

Actually, earlier they had given you an idea:
"This is Debbie, your flight attendant (formerly stewardess). In the event that the plane runs out of fuel during the flight, you will find a surplus World War II parachute under your seat. Feel free to study the card attached, which includes instructions for proper use, and a short prayer. There will be, of course, a $25 surcharge."

He says he really cares

Prepare to get your mouth around "President Pickens." No, not Slim Pickens (real name Louis Lindley), the late rustic character actor of the movies, but T. Boone Pickens, the affluent oil man whose speech pattern resembles Slim's. He has begun a media blitz in which he promises to reveal his plans for developing alternative energy sources, because, apparently, oil hasn't made him rich enough. When he teams up with AlGore, the global warming fraud, they should make a formidable slate of candidates for the new Scare the Children Party.


EXTRA: God's Pottery has been eliminated from "The Last Comic Standing." Unfortunately, last night's song, "Team Jesus," wasn't funny.

2050 American History Textbook

The 43rd President of the United States was George W. Bush, the son of George H. W. Bush, the 41st President. He waged war against the Muslim terrorists, who, in 2001, had destroyed the World Trade Center in New York City, killing 3,000 innocent Americans.

His election in 2000 had been challenged by his disappointed political opponents, but no significant ballot discrepancies were found. In the following years, his detractors created a series of lies about him, until he became the most maligned President in history.

His 2004 election was also disputed on even less evidence, and the lies accelerated. He was a moral man, and he steadfastly pursued a course which kept the country safe from further terrorist attacks, but the President who succeeded him, ____________, was given credit for the final victory.

After his retirement, it was subsequently revealed that much of the abuse he endured was unjustified, and by the time he died in ____, he had been substantially vindicated.

Dear Globe Life Insurance Co.:

Since I bought a whole life policy for the youngest member of my family over a year ago, you have sent me a letter every month trying to induce me to buy more insurance for myself. At my age, the premium would be a third of my income, so I can't afford it.

I hope the seven-year-old recipient of the policy I am purchasing will be pleased to continue to pay the reasonable premium when she reaches her majority, and I would ask you to stop soliciting me, save the expenses incurred, and apply them to the value of her policy. Thank you.

Sincerely,
Don

Strike while the weather's hot

Yesterday, after Friday's unsolicited attack on Jorge, my words appeared (unedited) on TV again. Other regulars must be on vacation, allowing me to extend my record to six consecutive days. I spoke to the suggestion that we return to the 55 MPH speed limit as follows: "When will we learn our lesson? Enforce the 55 MPH limit for trucks, and ticket others who violate the present limits. No one needs to go the 80 MPH we often see, but 55 has always been unreasonable."

Today, I hope my disapproval of Obama's call for another "stimulus," and of the entitlement generation, will be number seven: "If the government has so much extra money it can afford to give us another stimulus, why don't they just tell those of us who are not working the system to stop the work we are doing, because now they're going to support us?"

Dear Parents:

The education of your children is your responsibility.

In primitive civilizations, where the primary activities were, and even today still are, hunting and gathering, the fathers taught the boys their skills, and the mothers taught the girls how to prepare the food for eating. As civilization became more complex, parents discovered they were less capable of serving all their children's educational needs, so they turned to the government for help. Counties stepped up, and in exchange for tax money, they agreed to build schools and hire professionals to staff them.

Elected school boards were created to administer the enterprise. They are groups of average citizens, many of them parents, charged with the responsibility of seeing to it the children receive what they need to succeed in life. Please select your school board members wisely, counsel them appropriately, and always remember, your children are depending upon you to ensure they are educated properly.

Diplomacy

Hidden in the last pargraph of an AP story about the rescue of the Colombian hostages was a fact the liberal media doesn't really want you to know. On page A8 of the Sacramento Bee, we learned, "U.S. authorities were told 10 days before the operation as part of an agreement President Alvaro Uribe made with President Bush not to take any action without Washington's concurrence. . . ."

This is precisely the role of the U.S. in the world. The most powerful, compassionate and affluent country has always taken the lead in world affairs, and that's what we should be doing now. Since we took over that role from England after the Revolution, we have been charged with the responsibility of making the entire world better by example. That is the purpose of diplomacy, and let us hope that Colombia and Iraq are not the only places enjoying our support.


EXTRA: "Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday, Mr. President
Happy birthday to you." (With thanks to Marilyn Monroe)

Goodbye, Jorge?

The good news is that my emails appeared on TV every day this week. The bad news is that, more increasingly, I am being edited. When I write two or three sentences, every word counts, and deleting some of them can change the meaning. One day, I pointed that out to the anchors, but yesterday they did it again.

I began my serious July 4th comment about patriotism with, "Patriotism is not something you think or say, but something you do. The highest forms are public service and military deployment." Then they deleted the several things I suggested other citizens could do, and substituted them with my snarky comment about Jorge Smirnoff you read here yesterday, although I had submitted it separately and in parentheses.

I realize they want to stir up some ratings-building controversy (they said that directly once), but I'm beginning the feel they want me to be the bad guy. Jorge is the one who hates our country, and continuously bad-mouths our leaders, and pointing it out, just encourages him to repeat the offending behavior. Do you suppose I should leave Jorge alone to stew in his own bile?

A 3 foot, 2 inch clapper

Inscribed on the Liberty Bell are the words: "PROCLAIM LIBERTY THROUGHOUT ALL THE LAND UNTO ALL THE INHABITANTS THEREOF."

God bless America.


EXCUSE ME: There will be few fireworks in the North State this year, including my impudent submission to TV: "Patriotism is the exact opposite of what Jorge Smirnoff usually thinks and says."
(I'm off for another day of whoring and Yatzee.)

Oil

(To TV) We could go into Iran and take the oil, just like the Democrat politicians and their deluded minions say we did in Iraq. Or, we could just let Israel handle it, like they're itching to.

Seriously, if we went to Iraq for the oil, why don't we just take it? You know, sail a fleet of tankers over there and load up. When they tell us the price, we can just say, "What do you mean, pay for it? It's ours and we're taking it. Whata ya gonna do about it?"

Isn't that what we're already doing, according to the disgruntled Democrats? Of course, if someone's been lying about our stealing the oil, that might explain why gasoline costs more that $4 per gallon.

Marriage, dance and Jorge

All organized religions preach that we should all love one another, with no mention of gender (or any other potentially prejudicial relationship). Conversely, those religions almost universally disapprove of sexual activity between same-sex partners. With the advent of gay marriage in California. it appears the state is not concerned with morality, at least not that kind as defined by the churches. What we have to ask ourselves is: What other religious proscriptions will the state ignore next?

I never thought I'd see the day that I would think that cloggers were the highlight of a talent show, but last night, on "America's Got. . .", four charming young ladies proved me wrong. Of course, it was only a minute and a half, and I can imagine how boring it would get after that.

(To TV) It is hilarious that Jorge Smirnoff bemoans the teaching of revisionist history, when he persists in lying about President Bush, big business, Congress, and everybody else with whom he disagrees.

One down. . . two to go.

Watching the Pendragons' magic act put me in mind of the world's three best kept secrets. For centuries, magicians maintained the mystery by pledging never to reveal how their tricks were done, but when the movies and television waved some money around, that tradition bit the dust. There are now only two carefully guarded secrets left in the world: the factory invoice and space travel.

Auto dealers have not been around as long as magic, but somehow they always induce buyers to pay exactly the amount the salesmen want, no matter how much negotiation appears to be happening. A tool they are shamelessly using is the "factory invoice." In my last new car negotiation, I specifically told the salesman not to show it to me, but he brazenly did anyway. I bought the car, because resistance is futile.

The "factory invoice" is a document that appears to say that a car which will cost you $30,000 cost the dealership $29,900 from the manufacturer. As you sit in a large, attractive showroom, surrounded by several attentive employees, you are supposed to believe that the owner became rich and the employees are well paid, despite the fact that each car sold nets only $100 profit.

How stupid do they think we are? Would anyone go into business selling high-priced items for a few pennies of profit on the dollar? Obviously cars are sold for several thousand dollars profit, the factory invoice is fiction, but the audacious sellers have maintained an illusion to the contrary, better than the magicians could.

Finally, I ask you to ponder the "escape velocity." This is the speed an object must attain to leave the Earth's gravitational pull. Scientists estimate it at more than 24,000 miles per hour. At that speed, a battleship going by in front of your house would be, at best, a brief blur to your eyes.

We routinely see rockets take off, and we follow their progress until they are the number of miles away when our eyes can no longer detect them. At no time do we see them achieve escape velocity. We are supposed to believe that sometime after they are out of sight, and with diminshed fuel supplies, they reach 24,000 miles per hour, and dash off to the moon and Mars.

Rocket scientists find lucrative jobs with universities or NASA, or get grants of various kinds, so it is to their benefit to keep the illusion alive. They regale us with films of a quality similar to those produced at Industrial Light & Magic. It's a cushy job, contemplating the possibility of alien life. Hell, everybody loves the weaselly Ferengi and fears the Klingons.