A diminutive and lovely American woman in a smart Connecticut home sat out Nemo with her elderly parents. Among other things she waded through deep snow to find and clear furnace vents; she used a pole to shake snow from her service electrical lines and nearby trees.
I wasn't there, more's the pity, but there's no doubt in my mind that she needed no last-minute dash for milk and toilet paper, meaning she was no candidate for a dramatic feature story on the horrors of being suddenly trapped in her car in a storm well-advertised for days.
With preparations made and immediately necessary actions taken, she seemed to enjoy her little break from the outside world, laughing and joking her way through white Armageddon, warm, secure, properly fed and I confidently guess, properly wined. After all, she bears an honest Irish surname.
Meanwhile, a million less sentient northeasterners suffered -- out of Perrier, down to the last pound of lox, the electric teevee won't work, that sort of deprivation. Never mind the frantically punched wireless devices seeking word on how much they might get from FEMA as a result of living in a place where it snowed.
Still, the Irish girl and her like represent a useful cadre of citizens, people with at least a modest ability to see more than two commercials ahead and plan for survival in comfort when nature does what it routinely does. Their existence suggests a remaining hope for America, even in the age of Mommy Dotguv on whom all happiness depends. (Please, Your Ineptness, make the Republicans stop causing blizzards.) It is a cozy thought, so you shouldn't screw it up by reading the news.
---
At New York's Fashion Week, women tottered on 4-inch heels through the snow to get to the tents to see designers' newest collections.
Showing posts with label Miscellaneous assholery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miscellaneous assholery. Show all posts
Feb 10, 2013
Jan 28, 2013
I see by the news that a bunch of U.S. Senators is to introduce a new immigration reform plan this afternoon.
Point One of said plan is that all is "Contingent on securing the borders."
Making points Two through Infinity moot.
Actually securing the border is popular only among adult white heterosexuals who have a pickup, three or more firearms, and a job -- a political loser in other words.
Point One of said plan is that all is "Contingent on securing the borders."
Making points Two through Infinity moot.
Actually securing the border is popular only among adult white heterosexuals who have a pickup, three or more firearms, and a job -- a political loser in other words.
Jan 21, 2013
Travis McGee at the Inauguration
Nothing short of new dance routine by Chookie McCall could have lured Trav to The Dubliner on any day of any year -- particularly this morning when his gnarled elbows would have brushed a gaggle of self-styled journalists. MSNBC chose to, ahem, "cover" the inauguration from the place.
Wouldn't they just.
How they love high-polish hip and the beautiful people who make it glitter, especially in a contrived ethnic atmosphere, in this case Irish. My ass. It's as Irish as lutefisk.
I grant The Dubliner one point. It's five o'clock girl flock tends toward sleek young loveliness whose chatter sounds -- from a distance -- enchanting. Closer, you learn that it concerns shopping. Let it pass. Step away, sigh at the waste, and recall your Bierce; ...all too human to impute unlikely virtues to the cute.
The men, so to speak, put you in mind of a 10-year fraternity reunion attended by Countess Mara neckties attached to those alumni whose MasterCard's would still bear the expense.
---
Did you ever notice that Travis didn't often use vulgar words?
Thrust into that crowd, I think he would have made an exception. Four letters, maybe 11. Then he'd have backed out the door, turned, and walked no more than 15 strides to the next-door Irish Times.
Hugh's place is a little seedy, but its political ops and hustlers tend to have honest Irish surnames and, often enough, fresh brogues. Among the still sober, conversation is generally a witty and bipartisan exploration of why things are still so FUBAR. The unsober (due to fairly priced Guinness and Jamison) tend to say hardly anything, at most a cynical grunt. That's a rhetorical approach a guy can quickly learn to love.
Besides, The Irish Times often features semi-talented (at worst) live Irish performers. They do rebel music with a loud flourish suggesting that disdain for the goddam English usurpers is alive and well. So tell me Sean O'Farrell where the gatherin is to be .. with me PIKE upon me shoulder at the RISIN' of the MOON.
The other place gives you something like a tape of Mel Torme singing Danny Boy. I'll bet Mika swoons.
Wouldn't they just.
How they love high-polish hip and the beautiful people who make it glitter, especially in a contrived ethnic atmosphere, in this case Irish. My ass. It's as Irish as lutefisk.
I grant The Dubliner one point. It's five o'clock girl flock tends toward sleek young loveliness whose chatter sounds -- from a distance -- enchanting. Closer, you learn that it concerns shopping. Let it pass. Step away, sigh at the waste, and recall your Bierce; ...all too human to impute unlikely virtues to the cute.
The men, so to speak, put you in mind of a 10-year fraternity reunion attended by Countess Mara neckties attached to those alumni whose MasterCard's would still bear the expense.
---
Did you ever notice that Travis didn't often use vulgar words?
Thrust into that crowd, I think he would have made an exception. Four letters, maybe 11. Then he'd have backed out the door, turned, and walked no more than 15 strides to the next-door Irish Times.
Hugh's place is a little seedy, but its political ops and hustlers tend to have honest Irish surnames and, often enough, fresh brogues. Among the still sober, conversation is generally a witty and bipartisan exploration of why things are still so FUBAR. The unsober (due to fairly priced Guinness and Jamison) tend to say hardly anything, at most a cynical grunt. That's a rhetorical approach a guy can quickly learn to love.
Besides, The Irish Times often features semi-talented (at worst) live Irish performers. They do rebel music with a loud flourish suggesting that disdain for the goddam English usurpers is alive and well. So tell me Sean O'Farrell where the gatherin is to be .. with me PIKE upon me shoulder at the RISIN' of the MOON.
The other place gives you something like a tape of Mel Torme singing Danny Boy. I'll bet Mika swoons.
Jan 17, 2013
Well, at least that's settled
I'm indebted to my MSM pal Hans for a final resolution to "What's an assault rifle?"
The AR15, usually black and always ugly, is leading in all the polls that measure assaultiveness. Hans isn't buying, and neither is our mutual MSM pal Dave who raised the subject on Facebook. Each has had it up to >here<with cant about "assault rifles."
They agree, as do most of us, that assaultiveness is a matter of purpose, not tools. Which is to say that my Remington 514 becomes an assault rifle the moment I get to feeling a little assaultory.
Hans modestly suggests that the nomenclature problem goes away with good intent-recognition software. A guy could legally run around with an AR15 (or Bazooka or tactical nuke) as long as the program cleared him of assaultitarian motives.
Course, the system would have to incorporate an active RF transmitter and be permanently attached to the toter. No problem these days. His Ineptness just executively orders the chips implanted in our innards. You know, like they do on Guernseys and Lhasa Apsos.
The AR15, usually black and always ugly, is leading in all the polls that measure assaultiveness. Hans isn't buying, and neither is our mutual MSM pal Dave who raised the subject on Facebook. Each has had it up to >here<
They agree, as do most of us, that assaultiveness is a matter of purpose, not tools. Which is to say that my Remington 514 becomes an assault rifle the moment I get to feeling a little assaultory.
Hans modestly suggests that the nomenclature problem goes away with good intent-recognition software. A guy could legally run around with an AR15 (or Bazooka or tactical nuke) as long as the program cleared him of assaultitarian motives.
Course, the system would have to incorporate an active RF transmitter and be permanently attached to the toter. No problem these days. His Ineptness just executively orders the chips implanted in our innards. You know, like they do on Guernseys and Lhasa Apsos.
Jan 16, 2013
Alarums and diversions
Side notes on gun control, Obama style:
--See? He meant it when he told the Russian he would have more flexibility in his second reign. And some guys thought we were being silly and mean and partisan to mention it.
--I just found my first loophole in the New York law limiting handgun magazine capacity A Hi-Standard Sentinel holds nine "bullets" -- two over the limit. And what is a double action revolver if it is not a semi-automatic with a slightly awkward trigger pull? Alert Mayor Bloomburg.
-- And speaking of loopholes, perhaps the neatest one in the country is down on the corner of 68th and Halstead in Chicago -- the neighborhood organized by His Ineptness when he was still at the low end of the government pay scale. The dealer counts your cash but doesn't ask impertinent questions. (If you're on a tight thuggery budget, the same entrepreneur will rent you a piece.)
(h/t for title to Mr. Thurber)
--See? He meant it when he told the Russian he would have more flexibility in his second reign. And some guys thought we were being silly and mean and partisan to mention it.
--I just found my first loophole in the New York law limiting handgun magazine capacity A Hi-Standard Sentinel holds nine "bullets" -- two over the limit. And what is a double action revolver if it is not a semi-automatic with a slightly awkward trigger pull? Alert Mayor Bloomburg.
-- And speaking of loopholes, perhaps the neatest one in the country is down on the corner of 68th and Halstead in Chicago -- the neighborhood organized by His Ineptness when he was still at the low end of the government pay scale. The dealer counts your cash but doesn't ask impertinent questions. (If you're on a tight thuggery budget, the same entrepreneur will rent you a piece.)
(h/t for title to Mr. Thurber)
Jan 11, 2013
The diversity cliff
Good gawd. I think my electric teevee -- like Tam's car radio -- has been hijacked by a transmitter from Planet Zongo.
Because I've learned from CNN and MSNBC that National Problem Number One is that we are doomed because His Ineptness, the partially black president, is a racist for appointing adult white males to his cabinet. A diversity cliff.
Among the wailers is Congressman Charlie Rangel who makes Page One by calling the latest cabinet picks "embarrassing as hell." No, Charlie. The national embarrassment is that you still occupy a plush congressional seat instead of the cell next door to Roddy Blagojevich.
I think Obama did it on purpose. If folks spend all their time thinking about the APL* and the dangle/dimple ratio in high bureaucratic circles, they'll be less likely to stumble across the notion that the trillion-dollar coin may become an everyday necessity for making small purchases.
---
*Average Pigmentation Level
Because I've learned from CNN and MSNBC that National Problem Number One is that we are doomed because His Ineptness, the partially black president, is a racist for appointing adult white males to his cabinet. A diversity cliff.
Among the wailers is Congressman Charlie Rangel who makes Page One by calling the latest cabinet picks "embarrassing as hell." No, Charlie. The national embarrassment is that you still occupy a plush congressional seat instead of the cell next door to Roddy Blagojevich.
I think Obama did it on purpose. If folks spend all their time thinking about the APL* and the dangle/dimple ratio in high bureaucratic circles, they'll be less likely to stumble across the notion that the trillion-dollar coin may become an everyday necessity for making small purchases.
---
*Average Pigmentation Level
Jan 9, 2013
Makes me sick
The electrical teevee news on CNN and MSNBC was drearier and more banal than usual this morning. So I flipped over to the Fox thigh fest. The theory was that if a guy is going to kill brain cells he might as well try to stir his hormones in compensation. It didn't work very well. So I shut it all off, got out the check book, and started paying bills, first the health insurance premium.
Now, extreme self-revelation is well and good. Hell, it almost a staple of bloggery, but I'm uncomfortable with it. Readers already know the most intimate facts of my life -- retired wire service man, political operative, semi-skilled handy man, a devourer of books with an unhealthy interest in firearms, water sports, and women who manage knees-together allure with bits and pieces of fabric giving a decent scope to a man's imagination.
So I offer my invasion of my own privacy here reluctantly and only in service of larger truth.
Here's what I spent on health care last year:
About 200 Federal Reserve Cartoons, all out-of-pocket. Broken down, that represents one uninsured prescription renewal, perhaps 30 generic ibuprofen and aspirin tablets, a partial box of bi-carb, a few pair of one-dollar reading glasses (1.25 and 1.5 diopters if you must know), and a modest number of band aids. Disregarding a spendy surgery -- only partially insured -- to ameliorate a hearing problem years ago, that's a reasonably typical year.
I report this only to claim that I am not a frequent defiler of the venal healing industry -- either that part of it representing American socialism or its near-relative, my "private" insurance.
My reward? An 18 per cent increase in the already back-breaking premium which has more than doubled in six years. And if you go by the news, I'm luckier than most.
I talked this over with an insurance expert, an old friend. He said it's complicated (No shit, Sam Spade?) but that if you're looking for a one-word reason, "Obamacare" is accurate. Surprise, isn't it? Who would have thought that free or cheap doctoring for x million more people might require a little extra from people who pay for it?
---
Al Capp used to get big laughs at the expense of ATT when it held a government-protected monopoly on telephone service. Ma Bell's ambitions were modest, he admitted. She would happily settle for owning all the wealth in the country. And if you want to draw comparisons between that and His Ineptness's new death grip on you, your doctor, and your insurance company, why, it's okay by me.
Now, extreme self-revelation is well and good. Hell, it almost a staple of bloggery, but I'm uncomfortable with it. Readers already know the most intimate facts of my life -- retired wire service man, political operative, semi-skilled handy man, a devourer of books with an unhealthy interest in firearms, water sports, and women who manage knees-together allure with bits and pieces of fabric giving a decent scope to a man's imagination.
So I offer my invasion of my own privacy here reluctantly and only in service of larger truth.
Here's what I spent on health care last year:
About 200 Federal Reserve Cartoons, all out-of-pocket. Broken down, that represents one uninsured prescription renewal, perhaps 30 generic ibuprofen and aspirin tablets, a partial box of bi-carb, a few pair of one-dollar reading glasses (1.25 and 1.5 diopters if you must know), and a modest number of band aids. Disregarding a spendy surgery -- only partially insured -- to ameliorate a hearing problem years ago, that's a reasonably typical year.
I report this only to claim that I am not a frequent defiler of the venal healing industry -- either that part of it representing American socialism or its near-relative, my "private" insurance.
My reward? An 18 per cent increase in the already back-breaking premium which has more than doubled in six years. And if you go by the news, I'm luckier than most.
I talked this over with an insurance expert, an old friend. He said it's complicated (No shit, Sam Spade?) but that if you're looking for a one-word reason, "Obamacare" is accurate. Surprise, isn't it? Who would have thought that free or cheap doctoring for x million more people might require a little extra from people who pay for it?
---
Al Capp used to get big laughs at the expense of ATT when it held a government-protected monopoly on telephone service. Ma Bell's ambitions were modest, he admitted. She would happily settle for owning all the wealth in the country. And if you want to draw comparisons between that and His Ineptness's new death grip on you, your doctor, and your insurance company, why, it's okay by me.
Dec 13, 2012
It would reduce the caterwauling if we could agree that Susan Rice was not opposed as an African-American, nor because she is a woman, nor because she is a combination of the two.
She fell from grace because:
(1) She knowingly created lies about the events that killed four Americans in Libya, including the ambassador, which is immoral and probably illegal, OR
(2) She knowingly relayed the lies of her bureaucratic seniors, which displays the character flaws mentioned above, OR
(3) She relayed unchecked information from dubious sources, which would include those senior to her in the pecking order or from the nation's intelligence apparatus. This would indicate naivete at best and deep ignorance at worst.
But perhaps I am wrong. If so, it is deeply shameful that racist America still rejects the idea of a chief foreign policy officer who is of African descent, female, and named Rice.
She fell from grace because:
(1) She knowingly created lies about the events that killed four Americans in Libya, including the ambassador, which is immoral and probably illegal, OR
(2) She knowingly relayed the lies of her bureaucratic seniors, which displays the character flaws mentioned above, OR
(3) She relayed unchecked information from dubious sources, which would include those senior to her in the pecking order or from the nation's intelligence apparatus. This would indicate naivete at best and deep ignorance at worst.
But perhaps I am wrong. If so, it is deeply shameful that racist America still rejects the idea of a chief foreign policy officer who is of African descent, female, and named Rice.
Dec 11, 2012
Cory Booker's $33
Here's how you do it next week, Cory:
Ten pounds of rice and beans at a buck a pound. Seven cans of vegetable/meat soup at a buck each. A gallon of milk for four dollars. A one-dollar head of cabbage. Seven apples at fifty cents each.
Bingo. You didn't starve, and you have seven dollars and fifty cents left over for Twinkies, Rollos, and Perrier. If you were a decent human being, however, you would reserve part of that surplus for a thank-you note to the poor freeken schmuck who paid for it.
Ten pounds of rice and beans at a buck a pound. Seven cans of vegetable/meat soup at a buck each. A gallon of milk for four dollars. A one-dollar head of cabbage. Seven apples at fifty cents each.
Bingo. You didn't starve, and you have seven dollars and fifty cents left over for Twinkies, Rollos, and Perrier. If you were a decent human being, however, you would reserve part of that surplus for a thank-you note to the poor freeken schmuck who paid for it.
Dec 10, 2012
Cold Sweats in the Night
I don't know if it is every father's nightmare, but it's mine. I am out shooting with my children or grandchildren. Something goes wrong, and I shoot one of them. No consolation is possible, not from friends, not from the total of the world's priests, preachers, philosophers, and grief counsellors. And it probably wouldn't have helped for a DNR cop to announce to the world what a lucky SOB I am.
It happened a couple of hours south of me Saturday.
The 18-year-old son is badly hurt but expected to survive what is reported as a partial load of pheasant shot in the back of his head. Conservation cops don't know what happened but speculate the father "may’ve lost his footing going through cover and in the act of tripping, the gun misfired or fired ...".
Misfired? Come on, Officer. The result of a "misfire" on a pheasant hunt is a frustrating "click," nothing worse.
The same game cop then moves to a safety homily, displaying all the human sensitivity of Genseric turned loose among the daughters of Rome:
" ...the shooting likely would have been fatal if the pair had been deer hunting and he had been hit by a deer slug."
Thank you, officer. Us stupid civilians would never have thought of that, and who gives a damn about adding a little bit to a father's feelings of horrified guilt.
It happened a couple of hours south of me Saturday.
The 18-year-old son is badly hurt but expected to survive what is reported as a partial load of pheasant shot in the back of his head. Conservation cops don't know what happened but speculate the father "may’ve lost his footing going through cover and in the act of tripping, the gun misfired or fired ...".
Misfired? Come on, Officer. The result of a "misfire" on a pheasant hunt is a frustrating "click," nothing worse.
The same game cop then moves to a safety homily, displaying all the human sensitivity of Genseric turned loose among the daughters of Rome:
" ...the shooting likely would have been fatal if the pair had been deer hunting and he had been hit by a deer slug."
Thank you, officer. Us stupid civilians would never have thought of that, and who gives a damn about adding a little bit to a father's feelings of horrified guilt.
Nov 28, 2012
Arab Spring, Act II
The AP tells us:
A widening dispute between the president and the nation's judiciary is at the center of the uproar over a constitutional declaration placing Morsi above oversight of any kind, including by the courts.
Dang. Democracy in the Middle East fails again, and we are all astounded.
I hate radical solutions, but I fear we must send Susan Rice to Cairo with a page of talking points.
Personally, I blame the video.
A widening dispute between the president and the nation's judiciary is at the center of the uproar over a constitutional declaration placing Morsi above oversight of any kind, including by the courts.
Dang. Democracy in the Middle East fails again, and we are all astounded.
I hate radical solutions, but I fear we must send Susan Rice to Cairo with a page of talking points.
Personally, I blame the video.
Nov 13, 2012
And yet another crisis in the our current Age of Ineptitude:
The Senate has scheduled an early evening procedural vote Tuesday for a sportsmen's bill that will decide the fate of 41 polar bear carcasses that hunters want to bring home from Canada as big-game trophies. Hunters killed the bears just before a 2008 ban on polar bear trophy imports took effect, but were not able to bring them home before the Fish and Wildlife Services listed them as a threatened species.
A small suggestion: Whenever an issue of this magnitude rises above the decision-making capacity of a clerk-typist, turn it over to a smart GS7. Give him or her 30 seconds to say yes or no, or to order a coin toss.
Fer krissakes.
---
AP characterizes the bill as 19 measures "favorable to sportsmen." Okay, but I'll bet my second-best rifle that at least 17 of them -- including the bears -- do nothing more than fix idiocies previously created by by presidents, congresspeople, or the unelected regulators of national life.
The Senate has scheduled an early evening procedural vote Tuesday for a sportsmen's bill that will decide the fate of 41 polar bear carcasses that hunters want to bring home from Canada as big-game trophies. Hunters killed the bears just before a 2008 ban on polar bear trophy imports took effect, but were not able to bring them home before the Fish and Wildlife Services listed them as a threatened species.
A small suggestion: Whenever an issue of this magnitude rises above the decision-making capacity of a clerk-typist, turn it over to a smart GS7. Give him or her 30 seconds to say yes or no, or to order a coin toss.
Fer krissakes.
---
AP characterizes the bill as 19 measures "favorable to sportsmen." Okay, but I'll bet my second-best rifle that at least 17 of them -- including the bears -- do nothing more than fix idiocies previously created by by presidents, congresspeople, or the unelected regulators of national life.
Nov 2, 2012
Sandy note
Mayor-Against-Guns Bloomberg touts a "couple of murder-free days" in post-Sandy Manhattan. He can't say why, but he hints it's because of his brilliant municipal leadership.
Could be, but more likely:
"Hey, Bro, lets go down to Virginia and buy some assault rifles and come back and shoot some mofos and take their stuff."
"Can't do it Homie. Ain't no way to get across the bridges and da tunnels is flooded."
"Well, sheeeee-it then. If I can't get no gun guess I'll just go on up to the church and help Father Flanagan feed nuns and orphans."
.
Could be, but more likely:
"Hey, Bro, lets go down to Virginia and buy some assault rifles and come back and shoot some mofos and take their stuff."
"Can't do it Homie. Ain't no way to get across the bridges and da tunnels is flooded."
"Well, sheeeee-it then. If I can't get no gun guess I'll just go on up to the church and help Father Flanagan feed nuns and orphans."
.
Oct 19, 2012
Gun porn from the tin-bra set
Some Denver folks are wetting their stepins because Madonna used a gun in one of her acts. Her defense:
In a statement before beginning the tour, Madonna said she does not condone the use of guns. She said she is using the guns as symbols of intolerance and "the pain I have felt from having my heart broken."
I was about to label that as pure celeb blather. On second thought she has a point.
Now, my heart has been broken here and there, although never in a way that would justify the use of guns. On the other hand, I usually have one handy as -- just as the Material Girl says -- a symbol of intolerance. It symbolizes my intolerance for some subhuman critter who wants to relieve me of my possessions or my life.
'course she stops a stroke shy of fulfillment. If it doesn't work to symbolize, a person can always actualize.
In a statement before beginning the tour, Madonna said she does not condone the use of guns. She said she is using the guns as symbols of intolerance and "the pain I have felt from having my heart broken."
I was about to label that as pure celeb blather. On second thought she has a point.
Now, my heart has been broken here and there, although never in a way that would justify the use of guns. On the other hand, I usually have one handy as -- just as the Material Girl says -- a symbol of intolerance. It symbolizes my intolerance for some subhuman critter who wants to relieve me of my possessions or my life.
'course she stops a stroke shy of fulfillment. If it doesn't work to symbolize, a person can always actualize.
Sep 13, 2012
Party time in Dubai
Our friend Joel has been there, and his recollection of riot day is well worth a read. As are the comments, particularly one by "Buck."
There's no particularly sexy money quote, but the entire thing is a useful reminder that our leaders keep dinking around in a culture whose bases they do not understand -- except possibly as a series of crises which they can manipulate for domestic electoral purposes.
See also: Identity group politics.
There's no particularly sexy money quote, but the entire thing is a useful reminder that our leaders keep dinking around in a culture whose bases they do not understand -- except possibly as a series of crises which they can manipulate for domestic electoral purposes.
See also: Identity group politics.
Sep 7, 2012
The Public Vagina
If we must talk about it, I suppose we have to call it something, and vagina is technically accurate. Furthermore it is more, errr, value-neutral than the four-and-five-letter synonyms of the locker room. So vagina it is as we chart the American future.
Get used to its ubiquity. It has already begun to take root as a base for grammatical compounding. Such as "vagina-gogue," an offering in the National Review (of all places) by Michelle Malkin. She's furious at Code Pink for fielding members dressed up like vaginae. While I can't work myself up to a Malkin level of shrieking neocon rage, I too find it distasteful.
On aesthetic grounds, the costumed Pinkers resemble the female part only in the sense that a Salvador Dali clock resembles a clock. Certainly Dali had a First-Amendment right to draw slack, droopy, off-colored timepieces.
The ladies -- and a man or two, I gather from the news photos -- are similarly protected. Just as Stanley Kubrick was in gluing misshapen codpieces to his young thugs in "A Clockwork Orange." If we want freedom of speech we learn to accept occasional ugliness along with, as in this case, the stupidity of vagina-as-political-tool.
---
The Pinkers and those who, like Malkin, take them seriously represent our failure persuade the masses and their political masters to raise their eyes about three feet -- from the national pelvis to the national brain.
I don't know if abortion is murder in the civil sense. I don't know if it is right or wrong to turn females into a financially protected or privileged class on the basis of their special health-care needs. (Or males for theirs.) I do know that braying politicians are burdened with identical ignorance although they have struck electoral gold in pretending otherwise. Take a poll on "social issues." Count the votes. Plurality equals morality. Morality requires a law.
Mr. Obama, Mr. Romney, and all of your acolytes: The world you aspire to rule is roiled by potential tragedy which might -- just might -- be tamped down by intelligent political effort. The problems are neither vaginal nor penile. They are economic, military, and organizational.
It is undoubtedly a futile dream that between now and November 6 you would elevate your focus, up from the Y to the center of reasoning.
The fact that you won't makes some of us crotchety.
Get used to its ubiquity. It has already begun to take root as a base for grammatical compounding. Such as "vagina-gogue," an offering in the National Review (of all places) by Michelle Malkin. She's furious at Code Pink for fielding members dressed up like vaginae. While I can't work myself up to a Malkin level of shrieking neocon rage, I too find it distasteful.
On aesthetic grounds, the costumed Pinkers resemble the female part only in the sense that a Salvador Dali clock resembles a clock. Certainly Dali had a First-Amendment right to draw slack, droopy, off-colored timepieces.
The ladies -- and a man or two, I gather from the news photos -- are similarly protected. Just as Stanley Kubrick was in gluing misshapen codpieces to his young thugs in "A Clockwork Orange." If we want freedom of speech we learn to accept occasional ugliness along with, as in this case, the stupidity of vagina-as-political-tool.
---
The Pinkers and those who, like Malkin, take them seriously represent our failure persuade the masses and their political masters to raise their eyes about three feet -- from the national pelvis to the national brain.
I don't know if abortion is murder in the civil sense. I don't know if it is right or wrong to turn females into a financially protected or privileged class on the basis of their special health-care needs. (Or males for theirs.) I do know that braying politicians are burdened with identical ignorance although they have struck electoral gold in pretending otherwise. Take a poll on "social issues." Count the votes. Plurality equals morality. Morality requires a law.
Mr. Obama, Mr. Romney, and all of your acolytes: The world you aspire to rule is roiled by potential tragedy which might -- just might -- be tamped down by intelligent political effort. The problems are neither vaginal nor penile. They are economic, military, and organizational.
It is undoubtedly a futile dream that between now and November 6 you would elevate your focus, up from the Y to the center of reasoning.
The fact that you won't makes some of us crotchety.
Sep 4, 2012
See-Click-Squeal
Oh, ya got trouble, right there in River City, and that starts with Tee and that rhymes with Camaree and that stands for rat out your neighbor.*
Mason City commissars stand proud this morning, glowing with the knowledge that they have made every citizen an instant block captain. Thank you, Smart Phone.
“See-Click-Fix” lets people report quality-of-life issues and request city services though an online and mobile interface. Residents can send in complaints about things like garbage, junk cars, weeds and other neighborhood nuisances.
Which takes the ancient art of back-fence bitching to a high official level. Either keep those damned petunias watered or face the SWAT team. After all, "quality-of-life" is a fairly broad term, isn't it?
I suppose most of you recall the 1984 passage in which Smith's neighbor kid went to the Thought Police to report his father for insufficient adoration of Big Brother. In Mason City now, the little bastard can do it instantly from the comfort of his bean bag chair.
---
*For younger readers: Mason City produced Meredeth Wilson who produced 76 Trombones set in a Mason City pseudonymously called River City. Professor Harold Hill blew into town on a moral crusade to get the youngsters out of the pool hall and into band uniforms. He turned out to be a charlatan. His offspring remained and were elected to high city office.
“See-Click-Fix” lets people report quality-of-life issues and request city services though an online and mobile interface. Residents can send in complaints about things like garbage, junk cars, weeds and other neighborhood nuisances.
Which takes the ancient art of back-fence bitching to a high official level. Either keep those damned petunias watered or face the SWAT team. After all, "quality-of-life" is a fairly broad term, isn't it?
I suppose most of you recall the 1984 passage in which Smith's neighbor kid went to the Thought Police to report his father for insufficient adoration of Big Brother. In Mason City now, the little bastard can do it instantly from the comfort of his bean bag chair.
---
*For younger readers: Mason City produced Meredeth Wilson who produced 76 Trombones set in a Mason City pseudonymously called River City. Professor Harold Hill blew into town on a moral crusade to get the youngsters out of the pool hall and into band uniforms. He turned out to be a charlatan. His offspring remained and were elected to high city office.
Sep 3, 2012
Facepalm, Hillary
Happy Hillary-Rodham is on the beach, half a world away from Washington, celebrating the latest triumph of United States diplomacy. To be precise, she pressured the government of the Cook Islands to come up with some big SUVs, ones grand enough for Her Secretary of Stateship.
The government owns three small SUVs. That always seemed to be plenty for its job of governing some 11,000 folks.
Hillary sniffed. Her attendance depended on big, impressive SUVs. Which she got.
If she were the kind of person who said "Thanks" her gratitude would be to a put-upon Cook Islands official named Robert Graham. For a heady time the fate of the Eastern Hemisphere rested on his shoulders. He reports:
"We are a really small island and they're wanting these really big SUVs," Graham said. "We have tried our best to accommodate and help."
It might or might not impress Mrs. Clinton that her regal transport is a gift of the private sector. The resourceful Mr. Graham scrambled to persuade a number of islanders to loan their oversize personal vehicles for the grand occasion.
A big white one fell to Her, guaranteeing Her comfort even if mischance forced her to completely circumnavigate the island of Roratonga -- a daunting trek of nearly 20 paved miles. I hope the people of the Cooks don't hate us, but if they do, I'll understand.
---
So what the heck is the Clinton woman doing in paradise anyway?
I'm glad you asked. She's representing you and me at a gathering of the Pacific Islands Forum. That's an organization of Pacific governments who get together once in a while to hash out watery issues.
Her presence is being spun as a crucial element in United States security in the western Pacific -- heading off the Yellow Peril. The Los Angeles Times sets the stage:
"The tiny South Pacific islands and atolls known as the Cook Islands have rarely been more than an afterthought to the world's great powers. Yet in their intensifying contest for influence in the Asian Pacific region, the United States and China are seeing new value in far-flung outposts that until now were coveted more for pearls and sunsets than geostrategic importance."
(Aside No.1: We all know of the "Bad Hemingway" contest. Is there one for "Bad Michener?")
(Aside No. 2: Rarotonga is some 5,000 miles from the Chinese mainland, and if you ask me that's an implausibly long way to fling a far.)
Fully granting that we need to keep an eye on China's jealous eye for oil treasures beyond her 200-mile exclusive economic zone, Hillary-in-Paradise hints at another purpose.
American wars in the Middle East have about outrun our gullibility for nation-building propaganda, so maybe our leaders are shifting targets in the War to Divert Our Attention from the Economy.
Maybe Hillary and His Ineptness are discovering that it is crucial to American security to develop a ring of U.S. client states from Pitcairn to the Yalu. Deploy a few divisions and a handful of carrier flotillas. Build some schools. Send over some Harvard PhD to advise on governing. If absolutely necessary, bomb a few wogs.
Nothing stops us except the cost, but, what the Hell, we can always borrow it. In this case, though, probably not from China.
The government owns three small SUVs. That always seemed to be plenty for its job of governing some 11,000 folks.
Hillary sniffed. Her attendance depended on big, impressive SUVs. Which she got.
If she were the kind of person who said "Thanks" her gratitude would be to a put-upon Cook Islands official named Robert Graham. For a heady time the fate of the Eastern Hemisphere rested on his shoulders. He reports:
"We are a really small island and they're wanting these really big SUVs," Graham said. "We have tried our best to accommodate and help."
It might or might not impress Mrs. Clinton that her regal transport is a gift of the private sector. The resourceful Mr. Graham scrambled to persuade a number of islanders to loan their oversize personal vehicles for the grand occasion.
A big white one fell to Her, guaranteeing Her comfort even if mischance forced her to completely circumnavigate the island of Roratonga -- a daunting trek of nearly 20 paved miles. I hope the people of the Cooks don't hate us, but if they do, I'll understand.
---
So what the heck is the Clinton woman doing in paradise anyway?
I'm glad you asked. She's representing you and me at a gathering of the Pacific Islands Forum. That's an organization of Pacific governments who get together once in a while to hash out watery issues.
Her presence is being spun as a crucial element in United States security in the western Pacific -- heading off the Yellow Peril. The Los Angeles Times sets the stage:
"The tiny South Pacific islands and atolls known as the Cook Islands have rarely been more than an afterthought to the world's great powers. Yet in their intensifying contest for influence in the Asian Pacific region, the United States and China are seeing new value in far-flung outposts that until now were coveted more for pearls and sunsets than geostrategic importance."
(Aside No.1: We all know of the "Bad Hemingway" contest. Is there one for "Bad Michener?")
(Aside No. 2: Rarotonga is some 5,000 miles from the Chinese mainland, and if you ask me that's an implausibly long way to fling a far.)
Fully granting that we need to keep an eye on China's jealous eye for oil treasures beyond her 200-mile exclusive economic zone, Hillary-in-Paradise hints at another purpose.
American wars in the Middle East have about outrun our gullibility for nation-building propaganda, so maybe our leaders are shifting targets in the War to Divert Our Attention from the Economy.
Maybe Hillary and His Ineptness are discovering that it is crucial to American security to develop a ring of U.S. client states from Pitcairn to the Yalu. Deploy a few divisions and a handful of carrier flotillas. Build some schools. Send over some Harvard PhD to advise on governing. If absolutely necessary, bomb a few wogs.
Nothing stops us except the cost, but, what the Hell, we can always borrow it. In this case, though, probably not from China.
Aug 16, 2012
Partly cloudy with a chance of Armageddon
It's understandable that the National Weather Service could desire a ready stock of .40 SW hollow points. It's to protect forecast flunkies from irate citizens who have had it right up to here with their lies. Like me last evening.
The local forecast gave me only the slimmest chance of living to see the sun rise. The least I could expect ahead of the cold front was a flurry of wind-born Peterbilts and a flood making the living room attractive to large fish. There was even the possibility of "tornadic activity."
Naturally I took the precaution of laying in dry firewood, doublechecking the supply of rice, beans, and candles. Then I rearranged the vehicles. The more dependable truck with its uninsured Texsun camper was moved to a a treeless area, as was a guest's Outback. (I parked the aging but well-insured minivan under the largest dead branch on the place. Just in hopes, y'know.)
NWS zero-hour approached. Nothing ominous apparent to the naked eye. Check the radar. Zilch, save for a ground return of the kind you expect when the transceiver is overtuned during a period of rapidly evaporating dew. The accompanying NWS text said errrr on second thought the storms would not be severe. In fact they tuned out not to be storms at all. Not a drop of water. Not a hail stone. The fallen leaves weren't even rearranged. Made me want to shoot the b*****ds for scaring me and putting me to all the unnecessary work. As a fair-minded man, however, I would recognize right of the false prophets to shoot back, and that's why I didn't get all wookie upon learning of the NWS ammo purchase.
---
Of course, it turned out to be a mistake, if you can believe mommie.guv. The hollow-point .40s were really for NOAA fish and game cops. (WTF?).
Still, you might want to check the cite above for some perspective on who in your government is stockpiling man-killer ammunition by the millions. Not that the perspective is necessarily the product of serious minds. As in:
"The DHS is also planning to purchase a further 750 million rounds of different types of ammo in a separate solicitation that also expires on August 20, including 357 mag rounds that are able to penetrate walls. "
To folks of a certain age this will bring a nostalgic smile. We remember when it was gospel that a .357 would penetrate an engine block and retain enough power to take out three or four public enemies (usually Italians in Chicago) if you lined them up.
Still, the 750 million DHS rounds, plus another 350 million of those ubiquitous .40 hollow points ("illegal for warfare since 1899") in the hands of a domestic non-military agency makes a fellow wonder. Doesn't that amount to about three rounds for every man, woman, and child in the United States? Not even counting ammo for the regular cops and the federal Department of Education's Remington 870 riot guns.
Sometimes it's hard to figure out just who the enemy is.
The local forecast gave me only the slimmest chance of living to see the sun rise. The least I could expect ahead of the cold front was a flurry of wind-born Peterbilts and a flood making the living room attractive to large fish. There was even the possibility of "tornadic activity."
Naturally I took the precaution of laying in dry firewood, doublechecking the supply of rice, beans, and candles. Then I rearranged the vehicles. The more dependable truck with its uninsured Texsun camper was moved to a a treeless area, as was a guest's Outback. (I parked the aging but well-insured minivan under the largest dead branch on the place. Just in hopes, y'know.)
NWS zero-hour approached. Nothing ominous apparent to the naked eye. Check the radar. Zilch, save for a ground return of the kind you expect when the transceiver is overtuned during a period of rapidly evaporating dew. The accompanying NWS text said errrr on second thought the storms would not be severe. In fact they tuned out not to be storms at all. Not a drop of water. Not a hail stone. The fallen leaves weren't even rearranged. Made me want to shoot the b*****ds for scaring me and putting me to all the unnecessary work. As a fair-minded man, however, I would recognize right of the false prophets to shoot back, and that's why I didn't get all wookie upon learning of the NWS ammo purchase.
---
Of course, it turned out to be a mistake, if you can believe mommie.guv. The hollow-point .40s were really for NOAA fish and game cops. (WTF?).
Still, you might want to check the cite above for some perspective on who in your government is stockpiling man-killer ammunition by the millions. Not that the perspective is necessarily the product of serious minds. As in:
"The DHS is also planning to purchase a further 750 million rounds of different types of ammo in a separate solicitation that also expires on August 20, including 357 mag rounds that are able to penetrate walls. "
To folks of a certain age this will bring a nostalgic smile. We remember when it was gospel that a .357 would penetrate an engine block and retain enough power to take out three or four public enemies (usually Italians in Chicago) if you lined them up.
Still, the 750 million DHS rounds, plus another 350 million of those ubiquitous .40 hollow points ("illegal for warfare since 1899") in the hands of a domestic non-military agency makes a fellow wonder. Doesn't that amount to about three rounds for every man, woman, and child in the United States? Not even counting ammo for the regular cops and the federal Department of Education's Remington 870 riot guns.
Sometimes it's hard to figure out just who the enemy is.
Aug 14, 2012
The feds weigh in on another crisis. (It's for the children.)
I'll bet you didn't know that your federal government is on guard against the vast peril of backpack disease.
"A federal study found backpack-related injuries among children and teens have risen 41% in the past five years. The study says more than 14,000 people between the ages of 5 and 19 were treated for backpack injuries nationwide last year. The total cost for those injuries was nearly $29-million."
That works out to f $2071.43 per overburdened kiddie, although the number might require adjustment for armed and uniformed 18- and 19-year-old children huffing and puffing under a hundred pounds or so of rifle, ammo, and MOLLE gear, etc. -- courtesy of that self-same federal government.
The reporter even found a local and highly concerned "back-pain expert" -- a chiropractor, and stop that giggling -- to advise parents not to put a high-school capacity back pack on their pre-schooler. Thank you Doctor. We never would have thought of that.
Dr. Crunch warned that no child should carry more than 10 per cent of his or her body weight. If he proposed that Washington enact such a law and form a new corps of backpack police, the reporter missed it. But would you really be surprised?
Besides, I question whether the problem is widespread. My observations lead me to believe that the vast majority of tykes carry nothing heavier than Mom's Visa card.
"A federal study found backpack-related injuries among children and teens have risen 41% in the past five years. The study says more than 14,000 people between the ages of 5 and 19 were treated for backpack injuries nationwide last year. The total cost for those injuries was nearly $29-million."
That works out to f $2071.43 per overburdened kiddie, although the number might require adjustment for armed and uniformed 18- and 19-year-old children huffing and puffing under a hundred pounds or so of rifle, ammo, and MOLLE gear, etc. -- courtesy of that self-same federal government.
The reporter even found a local and highly concerned "back-pain expert" -- a chiropractor, and stop that giggling -- to advise parents not to put a high-school capacity back pack on their pre-schooler. Thank you Doctor. We never would have thought of that.
Dr. Crunch warned that no child should carry more than 10 per cent of his or her body weight. If he proposed that Washington enact such a law and form a new corps of backpack police, the reporter missed it. But would you really be surprised?
Besides, I question whether the problem is widespread. My observations lead me to believe that the vast majority of tykes carry nothing heavier than Mom's Visa card.
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