Tora Tora Tora

Leave it to Travis McGee to get things right. He marked this day as one which will, with each passing year, seem ever more quaint. The little tin airplanes bomb the sleeping giants and the world rushes giddily off to war.

This blog was born of an impulse to remember the attack. Oriental militants who gave an intense new meaning to the term jingo decided that your fathers and mine were simply too dangerous to their plan to loot all of the Far East.

It took a few years. American men and women gave up much. In the end they conquered the North Pacific and provided the margin of victory everywhere else.

I don't know if they were the greatest generation, but it seems to me they were the last competent one. The last stand of the kind of American to whom self-reliance was the worthiest goal. Most of them are dead, so I don't know for sure what they would say about what we have done with the gift they gave us. But I suspect they would not praise a people who create the entitlement culture of Amsoc.

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Since it is my blog: Uncle Amzie, Uncle Gene, Uncle George, Mr. Earl Stouffer, Dr. M.B. Smith, Mr. Tom Hartigan, and all the others: Thank you.

The Arming of America; The Warming of the World

This is from NJT and rates a read.

In 2002, for about one nanosecond and thanks to the exposure of Bellesailles, the entire sentient world was willing to concede that academia houses as many frauds as any other profession. I hope for the same -- with a little longer shelf life -- in the wake of the email that suggests that the global warming panic owes its existence to hot air from and hanky panky by alleged scientists anxious for their own 15 minutes.

An aside: Bellesailles has just this year found steady work again. He's teaching history at Central Connecticut State University in New Britain. This fact is offered as a public service for parents helping their children choose a place of higher learning.

You and Roman Polanski

You have something in common.

The Eye of Big Brother is poised to spot you, all day every day, even if you don't wear the modish ankle decor which Roman sports these days.* At least he knows he is a scorpion in a glass cage because he rapes little girls.

All you do is use the normal accessories of 21st Century life, cell phones, the Internet, etc. Turns out that Sprint/Nextel thinks it's quite nice to let the cops in on the secret of where you go, when you go there, and how long you stay. In case the cops get curious about why, the nice IT kids have whole departments to scoop clues to the government snoop -- emails, texts, google search terms, all that.

Do I hear in the distance, "Pitch forks, peasants, pitch forks."?

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*And , come to think of it, even if you live in a city which hasn't yet decided to circumvent all guarantees of the Constitution and install traffic surveillance cameras which permit the picking of your pocket without the inconvenience of courts and judges and such.

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H/Tip to Tam

EDIT: I need to add a credit.

Roman Polanski

I assume all of caterwauling Hollywood celebrates the release of this child raper to his palace in the mountains of the Gstaad countryside. Personally, I question the goodness of kowtowing to a fugitive who used his fame and money to lure a 13-year-old girl to a place where he could juice her up on champagne and then drug her preparatory to the rape.

Parents With Pitch Forks deserves jurisdiction in this case. If there is no such organization, there should be.