Mar 27, 2011

Oh, such lovely executions...

(1) -- Any South Halstead Street junkie with a modest wad from his latest liquor store holdup can quickly acquire about any drug he cares to shoot into his veins, often enough in lethal quantities.

(2) -- State governments are in a  bureaucratic tizzy-fit because they can't manage to buy enough sodium thiopentathol to dispatch their evil-doers.

(3) - When the state of Georgia finally managed to outsource enough sleepy juice to kill people, our federal drug police seized it on grounds it might be impure.

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Only the warped can find amusement in any part of the dialog about state-sanctioned killing, but bemusement is not to be considered a lapse of taste.

Some might suggest our inability to procure a rather simple drug developed in the 1930s argues for a Gary Gilmore ("Let' do it.") solution. But I guess that might thwart our desire to make executions a serene experience. Nighty-night, now.

While we're in a nation-building mood

Some 250,000 British citizens have taken to the streets, protesting the Throne's drive to deprive them of their human rights to free stuff.

It is not time, therefore, for the United States to impose a no-fly zone over Cheapside? I mean, Ho Ho Ho, Liz must go. That Cameron chap, too, probably.

Naturally, President Obama should first request permission of the United Nations. Congress and his subjects can learn about it from the newspapers and teevee.
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Mar 25, 2011

"...and in 2007 I wrote..."

The Random Patriot includes this in a cogent set of thoughts on Obama's impulsive foray into war.

The President does not have power under the Constitution to unilaterally authorize a military attack in a situation that does not involve stopping an actual or imminent threat to the nation. 
--Barack Obama, Dec. 20, 2007


A recent White House Executive Order forbids use of the term "hypocrite" until further notice.

Flowers, get your flowers here...

Ordinarily I would not spend $20 for a single chrysanthemum, but when it is  attached to most of a Type 99 Arisaka, c. 1944, I make an exception.

Another (sigh) project, and I'm in the market now for a stock with furniture and  a couple of bolt parts.  Or for a Jap collector lusting for an unground mum.

The moral of the story is: Check your friendly village junk shop every time you run into town for coffee.