I come from a conservative family. We're hard-working, we pay taxes, we own firearms, we've served and we've raised families. From time to time, some of my kinfolk like to toss in their two cents, which I've always welcomed.
After all, they're Ordinary Americans just like the rest of us.
This post comes from my cousin in Justin, Texas, who has been like a big brother to me since we were five/six years old. He and his wife are some of the finest, self-made people you could ever be blessed to know. Their eighteen-year-old daughter is like a niece and daughter to me and my wife. She also makes a fine co-pilot on some of our flying adventures.
Enjoy.
An Ordinary American
Been thinking
By RoknK
Sometimes I need to just think and when I do, I come up with some observations. Right now, this is what I’ve been thinking.
AOA wrote a blog the other day about Sarah Palin and it pretty well summed up my feelings but one thing I would like to add. Pillow talk. Every president is elected on his or her own merits but you have to accept the spouse as well. I had no problem with Laura Bush; in fact, she was about as proud as I could be of a first lady but Michelle Obama? Oh good God!! Therefore, if you consider Palin as president and we get Todd too, I have no problem at all with that. He reminds me of….well…ME! Let’s call it two for one.
Our illustrious Commander in Thief is big on legislation concerning bullying. Two things on that.
• Kids, if you’re bullied tell your parents and any teachers in charge at the time. Not to get him to stop but to warn them that you are going to kick his ass. Then….kick his ass!!
• Hussein Obama is the biggest bully when he rammed his fraudulent so-called healthcare plan down our throats.
Been thinking about this Iowa school that AOA wrote about. If enough idiot douches can keep up this persecution of regular, real Americans long enough it will become as normal as making fun of Christians and no one, NO ONE will give a damn.
AOA also got me thinking about immigration and our non-policy in this country. Did you know that these parasites are reserving rooms at hotels that cater to the late trimester pregnant illegals so they can have their anchor babies in this country? Sure, nice spas and pools, room service and weight rooms. The doctor even comes to your door. We are truly insane.
When liberal politics are allowed to flourish they rot the countryside and repel productive citizens. The latest consensus shows tax paying workers leaving Libville, USA, in droves. People are fleeing the big northeastern liberal, welfare states like Massachusetts, New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania, as well as the same kinds of states in the Midwest, such as Michigan, Ohio and Illinois. What was once the center of innovation, Detroit is now a wasteland. Detroit’s population now sits at 713,777, down 25% in the last ten years. Thanks to LBJ liberalism, union greed, laziness, and a simple lack of basic pride.
It really is that simple folks.
Been thinking about sensible gun control and how education would help ease the worried minds of all those pillow-biting libs. First grade you get education on the care and keeping of firearms. Safety, cleaning, storing, of course loading, and shooting for a variety of projectile producing weapons. In addition, the distinction of different firearms so they can be easily recognized for what their purpose is.
Problem solved.
Been thinking that Spring is here and a weekend of camping and fishing is needed. Two and a half days of vacation from Japan, Libya and all other mid-east countries, fed budget, politics in general, my job and of cours. . . The One, The Messiah, The Man-Child, The Community Organizer, The Kenyan, the all knowing, all seeing Hussein.
Most folks need a vacation from their jobs. America needs a vacation from its president.
Maybe the Annointed One taking all these vacations isn't a bad thing. He does less damage when he's gone.
The problem is, he keeps coming back.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
What is Sarah Palin's problem?
I don't get it.
My wife, on a lark, had recorded quite a few episodes of Sarah Palin's tv show, Sarah Palin's Alaska but had never sat down to really watch them.
One night, a month or so ago, she sat down while I was gone and watched one. She was hooked. I'm not generally into "reality TV" as I'm one of those who think shows like Survivor and American Idol just flat suck. Don't even get me started on the idiotic reality cooking shows and shopping shows.
But I watched an episode of Palin's show where she went hunting with her dad and one of his friends, and I was hooked.
That's when I really began wondering, "What is Sarah Palin's problem?"
I'm conservative. Time spent growing up in west Texas and the military certainly helped that along, and so did time spent in federal law enforcement. But it was getting finished with graduate school and diving into the private sector world that solidified my basic conservative beliefs.
In that world, you achieve in order to progress. Fail to achieve, and you can forget promotions and raises. If your boss didn't appreciate how well or how much you achieved, send your resume out to his or her competitors--someone out there would not only appreciate it, but hire you and pay you more to achieve for them.
Yes, there were exceptions and still are, but compared to most systems run or ruled by the government or by labor unions, being your own person and striving to achieve success would get you where you wanted to go.
Enter Sarah Palin. In my opinion, a living, breathing entity of success.
Which is her problem.
You see, liberals do not like success that they had nothing to do with formulating or controlling. They especially hate it when a woman succeeds on her own. And if that woman happens to be pro-gun, pro-life, pro-business, pro-family, pro-Christian, pro-you-get-the-example, then they detest that woman with a passion.
And they set out to destroy the woman.
Sarah Palin was thrust into the national limelight by a senile, calculating chameleon presidential candidate whose numbers and popularity were about on par with his personality and likability. One can only play on the war hero bit for so long, and even less when we're bringing back multitudes of war heroes almost on a weekly basis from over in Sandland.
As a veteran, I appreciate John McCain's service while in uniform. As a citizen, I've been less than thrilled with his service as an elected official. I firmly believe he'd compromise with the devil himself in order to appear almighty and wise to his once-doting fans in the famously whimsical mainstream media.
So he, or someone in the campaign, gambles and brings in Sarah Palin as his VP candidate.
Instant star power. Instant wow factor. Instant sex appeal. Instant excitement.
Instant "Oh, shit!" from the other side.
Now, as we all know, presidential candidates win and lose elections--not VP candidates. George H.W. Bush did not trounce Carter in 1980, nor did he kick Dukakis' ass in '84. Ronald Reagan did. Dan Quayle most assuredly did not beat Mondale or Benson in '88. Likewise it wasn't Al Gore's charisma and intellect and charm that defeated the senior Bush in '92 and Bob Dole in '96. And so on and so on.
Yet, Senator McVain and his nutless nimrods sought to place blame on the shoulders of Sarah Palin for their defeat in the last presidential election. The old school establishment Republicans immediately went on a feeding frenzy, one in which the lamestream media was only too happy to pick up on and expand upon. Karl Rove. Newt Gingrich, et al.
What a bunch of sorry-assed, hypocritical, lying sons of bitches. Their boy, McVain, aka "Mr. Excitement-Not" lost the election--not Palin.
I like Sarah Palin. A lot. Is she presidential material?
Compared to what and to whom. If you compare her to the imposter we have now, she is by far more qualified in every single facet. Compared to George W Bush? I'd call it a coin-toss. Both were successful governors of large land-mass states with strong economies and a large influx of people moving in every month and year.
So what is Sarah Palin's problem, so far as the media, the liberals and the doddering old school establishment Republicans are concerned?
When I ask this question, I hear the usual responses:
• She's not qualified.
• She's too young.
• She's too good looking and that could be a distraction.
• The Middle East isn't ready for a woman president.
• She doesn't have enough experience.
Blah blah blah blah. There are others like how she ditched the governor's office after the campaign, her oldest daughter being an unwed mother, etc etc. Give me a break. . .
I occasionally read some of the supposedly respected and learned conservative commentators and talking heads, but again, I take what I read and hear from them with the proverbial grain of salt. So many of these numbnuts are so far removed from the real world, they've lost the ability to relate to it.
Sarah Palin grew up in the real world, made her way in the real world, and continues to live in the real world. Let's look at some of the criticisms offered by both Liberals and the fossil-fuel Establishment Republicans:
She's not qualified. Says who? Establishment Republicans who are five generations rich and get manicures rather than leather work gloves? The media? What would the media know about being qualified to do ANYTHING?
Compared to the imposter we have in office right now, Sarah Palin is more than qualified. But then again, so is Joe the Plumber and dare I say, everyone who reads this blog (and is conservative).
Palin made her own way. Daughter of a school teacher, product of Alaska's public schools and universities. Her and the husband made their own way in business, then she ran for city council in Wasilla, then mayor, then governor--and with a track record of success in each position. That's qualified.
She's too young. What am I missing here? Slick Willie was not exactly a doddering old elder when he got elected, nor was George W Bush, and neither was the imposter we have at present. So the age thing. . . that dog don't hunt.
She's too good-looking and that could be a distraction. I still remember Rush Limbaugh cracking jokes about soccer moms and the "arousal factor" when swooning over Slick Willie. Sarah Palin is easy on the eyes, but that too says something about her personality and character--pride.
Besides, Hillary and Napolitano and our Surgeon General are uglier than an empty glass of buttermilk. Rosie O'Donnell? We'd no longer be able to sing America, The Beautiful if someone like her ever got elected.
A big part of Sarah Palin's looks are because the woman carries herself with class and dignity. That's always attractive.
She doesn't have enough experience. Well, again, she has far more experience than the imposter who is misleading and misdirecting us at present. Big difference between a community rabble rouser, er, uh, 'xcuse me, "community organizer" and someone who actually ran the business of a small town, then the big business of a large state. And did so profitably.
Besides, look what the idiotic "experienced" elected officials have done to us. They've screwed us but good--and along the way, greased the rails for themselves with our blood, sweat and tears.
Maybe such experience isn't a good thing, after all.
Sarah Palin is a stand-up woman. She strives to do what's right, she takes care of her husband and her family, her faith is strong and she loves her country.
I don't know if she's presidential material or not--and that's not the point of all this. The point is, a lot of folks seem to have a problem with her, but can't define exactly why in such a way that amounts to a hill of beans.
Bottom line? Sarah Palin is on our side. The conservative side. The side of gun-owners and veterans and hard-working Americans all over. She stands up for us.
The least we can do is stand up for her.
If we don't, we're no better than the Liberals who seek to destroy her.
My wife, on a lark, had recorded quite a few episodes of Sarah Palin's tv show, Sarah Palin's Alaska but had never sat down to really watch them.
One night, a month or so ago, she sat down while I was gone and watched one. She was hooked. I'm not generally into "reality TV" as I'm one of those who think shows like Survivor and American Idol just flat suck. Don't even get me started on the idiotic reality cooking shows and shopping shows.
But I watched an episode of Palin's show where she went hunting with her dad and one of his friends, and I was hooked.
That's when I really began wondering, "What is Sarah Palin's problem?"
I'm conservative. Time spent growing up in west Texas and the military certainly helped that along, and so did time spent in federal law enforcement. But it was getting finished with graduate school and diving into the private sector world that solidified my basic conservative beliefs.
In that world, you achieve in order to progress. Fail to achieve, and you can forget promotions and raises. If your boss didn't appreciate how well or how much you achieved, send your resume out to his or her competitors--someone out there would not only appreciate it, but hire you and pay you more to achieve for them.
Yes, there were exceptions and still are, but compared to most systems run or ruled by the government or by labor unions, being your own person and striving to achieve success would get you where you wanted to go.
Enter Sarah Palin. In my opinion, a living, breathing entity of success.
Which is her problem.
You see, liberals do not like success that they had nothing to do with formulating or controlling. They especially hate it when a woman succeeds on her own. And if that woman happens to be pro-gun, pro-life, pro-business, pro-family, pro-Christian, pro-you-get-the-example, then they detest that woman with a passion.
And they set out to destroy the woman.
Sarah Palin was thrust into the national limelight by a senile, calculating chameleon presidential candidate whose numbers and popularity were about on par with his personality and likability. One can only play on the war hero bit for so long, and even less when we're bringing back multitudes of war heroes almost on a weekly basis from over in Sandland.
As a veteran, I appreciate John McCain's service while in uniform. As a citizen, I've been less than thrilled with his service as an elected official. I firmly believe he'd compromise with the devil himself in order to appear almighty and wise to his once-doting fans in the famously whimsical mainstream media.
So he, or someone in the campaign, gambles and brings in Sarah Palin as his VP candidate.
Instant star power. Instant wow factor. Instant sex appeal. Instant excitement.
Instant "Oh, shit!" from the other side.
Now, as we all know, presidential candidates win and lose elections--not VP candidates. George H.W. Bush did not trounce Carter in 1980, nor did he kick Dukakis' ass in '84. Ronald Reagan did. Dan Quayle most assuredly did not beat Mondale or Benson in '88. Likewise it wasn't Al Gore's charisma and intellect and charm that defeated the senior Bush in '92 and Bob Dole in '96. And so on and so on.
Yet, Senator McVain and his nutless nimrods sought to place blame on the shoulders of Sarah Palin for their defeat in the last presidential election. The old school establishment Republicans immediately went on a feeding frenzy, one in which the lamestream media was only too happy to pick up on and expand upon. Karl Rove. Newt Gingrich, et al.
What a bunch of sorry-assed, hypocritical, lying sons of bitches. Their boy, McVain, aka "Mr. Excitement-Not" lost the election--not Palin.
I like Sarah Palin. A lot. Is she presidential material?
Compared to what and to whom. If you compare her to the imposter we have now, she is by far more qualified in every single facet. Compared to George W Bush? I'd call it a coin-toss. Both were successful governors of large land-mass states with strong economies and a large influx of people moving in every month and year.
So what is Sarah Palin's problem, so far as the media, the liberals and the doddering old school establishment Republicans are concerned?
When I ask this question, I hear the usual responses:
• She's not qualified.
• She's too young.
• She's too good looking and that could be a distraction.
• The Middle East isn't ready for a woman president.
• She doesn't have enough experience.
Blah blah blah blah. There are others like how she ditched the governor's office after the campaign, her oldest daughter being an unwed mother, etc etc. Give me a break. . .
I occasionally read some of the supposedly respected and learned conservative commentators and talking heads, but again, I take what I read and hear from them with the proverbial grain of salt. So many of these numbnuts are so far removed from the real world, they've lost the ability to relate to it.
Sarah Palin grew up in the real world, made her way in the real world, and continues to live in the real world. Let's look at some of the criticisms offered by both Liberals and the fossil-fuel Establishment Republicans:
She's not qualified. Says who? Establishment Republicans who are five generations rich and get manicures rather than leather work gloves? The media? What would the media know about being qualified to do ANYTHING?
Compared to the imposter we have in office right now, Sarah Palin is more than qualified. But then again, so is Joe the Plumber and dare I say, everyone who reads this blog (and is conservative).
Palin made her own way. Daughter of a school teacher, product of Alaska's public schools and universities. Her and the husband made their own way in business, then she ran for city council in Wasilla, then mayor, then governor--and with a track record of success in each position. That's qualified.
She's too young. What am I missing here? Slick Willie was not exactly a doddering old elder when he got elected, nor was George W Bush, and neither was the imposter we have at present. So the age thing. . . that dog don't hunt.
She's too good-looking and that could be a distraction. I still remember Rush Limbaugh cracking jokes about soccer moms and the "arousal factor" when swooning over Slick Willie. Sarah Palin is easy on the eyes, but that too says something about her personality and character--pride.
Besides, Hillary and Napolitano and our Surgeon General are uglier than an empty glass of buttermilk. Rosie O'Donnell? We'd no longer be able to sing America, The Beautiful if someone like her ever got elected.
A big part of Sarah Palin's looks are because the woman carries herself with class and dignity. That's always attractive.
She doesn't have enough experience. Well, again, she has far more experience than the imposter who is misleading and misdirecting us at present. Big difference between a community rabble rouser, er, uh, 'xcuse me, "community organizer" and someone who actually ran the business of a small town, then the big business of a large state. And did so profitably.
Besides, look what the idiotic "experienced" elected officials have done to us. They've screwed us but good--and along the way, greased the rails for themselves with our blood, sweat and tears.
Maybe such experience isn't a good thing, after all.
Sarah Palin is a stand-up woman. She strives to do what's right, she takes care of her husband and her family, her faith is strong and she loves her country.
I don't know if she's presidential material or not--and that's not the point of all this. The point is, a lot of folks seem to have a problem with her, but can't define exactly why in such a way that amounts to a hill of beans.
Bottom line? Sarah Palin is on our side. The conservative side. The side of gun-owners and veterans and hard-working Americans all over. She stands up for us.
The least we can do is stand up for her.
If we don't, we're no better than the Liberals who seek to destroy her.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Educators or Indoctrinators?
My younger brother is a school teacher. A damned good one. He teaches the curriculum and then some, as in why good communications is important. He teaches English, and often times it is the second language of some of his students.
My brother is also a Navy veteran. I'm an Air Force veteran. All branches of the military are represented in our family, and we also have a lot who are present or former law enforcement--ranging from local agencies to county, state and even federal.
Yet, according to the Department of Homeland Security, we--an ordinary American family--pose a significant risk to the safety of this country precisely because we put our butts on the line in the service and defense of our country.
Oh, and because we're gun owners. And white.
Taking a cue from the the incompetent nincompoop that the great Kenyan imposter appointed to embarrass DHS, a school district in Iowa has taken Napolitano's creed a step further.
They built an emergency police and SWAT response around a scenario involving white male students who are pro-gun and not in favor of immigration.
I'm not making this up. This is from the story itself:
I've spent a little time in Iowa, back when we were living in Kansas City in the mid-90's. Only places in Iowa where I found a preponderance of idiots who thought like that was in Des Moines and around the college campuses. Found a few loonies in the Quad Cities area, but figured they'd been flushed from Chicago or picked up from a wind-storm in Austin and carried north.
So let me get this straight. We have public schools indoctrinating students now that white males who believe in protecting the Bill of Rights, including the Second Amendment, must naturally be anti-immigration and therefore, logically, ready to twist off at a moment's notice and start shooting.
Excuse me. I thought it was a liberal looney who was pro-Democrat and pro-Hitler and pro-Stalin who twisted off in Tuscon and opened fire. But here's the entire scenario from these genius educators in Iowa:
Here is the entire story: Iowa Safety Drill Portrays Mock Shooter as 'Anti-Immigration' Pro-Gun Student
How many more examples are there of our public school teachers indoctrinating rather than educating?
I could point out sinking SAT scores in public schools, rising drop-out rates, increased violence and thus increased security, skyrocketing costs associated with public education. . . with teachers' unions behind all of it.
Question: How come private schools don't seem to have these problems? Or home-schooled students?
A school system in California made the students participate in a mock jihad so as to better understand the radical ragheads. Another school system had the high-school seniors sleep in cardboard boxes in a city park to better understand the homeless. And so on and so on.
What the hell happened to teaching about bicuspids and molars in the mouth, rather than how oral sex is performed. The former was taught to us in health class; the latter is what is now being taught. In sociology, we were taught the nuclear family was mom, dad, siblings. Today it is how ever many moms or dads one wishes to have.
That's not education, that's indoctrination.
My wife and I have no children in the public school system because we have no children of our own. Had we decided to have children, no way would they attend today's public schools.
In fact, given the obscene amount of school taxes we pay on our property even though we have no kids in school, I'm still trying to figure out a way to ask the school district for a refund for a defective product.
Throw out the damned "pass this test or you can't graduate" crap. Start teaching children the basics such as how to read, how to add and subtract, the history of our nation, how our Constitution operates, what the inside of a frog looks like, etc.
Until that happens, I'm all for private school vouchers.
My brother is also a Navy veteran. I'm an Air Force veteran. All branches of the military are represented in our family, and we also have a lot who are present or former law enforcement--ranging from local agencies to county, state and even federal.
Yet, according to the Department of Homeland Security, we--an ordinary American family--pose a significant risk to the safety of this country precisely because we put our butts on the line in the service and defense of our country.
Oh, and because we're gun owners. And white.
Taking a cue from the the incompetent nincompoop that the great Kenyan imposter appointed to embarrass DHS, a school district in Iowa has taken Napolitano's creed a step further.
They built an emergency police and SWAT response around a scenario involving white male students who are pro-gun and not in favor of immigration.
I'm not making this up. This is from the story itself:
An emergency drill set to take place in an Iowa school Saturday is drawing outrage after organizers revealed the mock scenario involves an “anti-immigration” pro-gun student shooting dozens of students in a racially-motivated shooting spree.
I've spent a little time in Iowa, back when we were living in Kansas City in the mid-90's. Only places in Iowa where I found a preponderance of idiots who thought like that was in Des Moines and around the college campuses. Found a few loonies in the Quad Cities area, but figured they'd been flushed from Chicago or picked up from a wind-storm in Austin and carried north.
So let me get this straight. We have public schools indoctrinating students now that white males who believe in protecting the Bill of Rights, including the Second Amendment, must naturally be anti-immigration and therefore, logically, ready to twist off at a moment's notice and start shooting.
Excuse me. I thought it was a liberal looney who was pro-Democrat and pro-Hitler and pro-Stalin who twisted off in Tuscon and opened fire. But here's the entire scenario from these genius educators in Iowa:
“In the past 6 months, the City of Treynor and Treynor Community School District has received a significant influx of minority residents,” causing “controversy regarding national immigration policies as well as racial tensions with a few embedded, typically silent, white supremacy affiliates.”
Based on those tensions, a white 18-year-old high school senior who “has been seen with anti-immigration demonstrators” and whose family “is known to be firearm enthusiasts, if not fanatics” starts a fight with a group of minority students “blurting racial slurs and that he is tired of them moving in and stealing jobs and money from Americans” then “pulls a handgun from his waistband, shooting one of the minority students.”
A 17-year-old friend of the shooter then joins him in "firing upon anyone in their path and chasing down anyone who is against their ill-perceived stand,” the plan says.
Here is the entire story: Iowa Safety Drill Portrays Mock Shooter as 'Anti-Immigration' Pro-Gun Student
How many more examples are there of our public school teachers indoctrinating rather than educating?
I could point out sinking SAT scores in public schools, rising drop-out rates, increased violence and thus increased security, skyrocketing costs associated with public education. . . with teachers' unions behind all of it.
Question: How come private schools don't seem to have these problems? Or home-schooled students?
A school system in California made the students participate in a mock jihad so as to better understand the radical ragheads. Another school system had the high-school seniors sleep in cardboard boxes in a city park to better understand the homeless. And so on and so on.
What the hell happened to teaching about bicuspids and molars in the mouth, rather than how oral sex is performed. The former was taught to us in health class; the latter is what is now being taught. In sociology, we were taught the nuclear family was mom, dad, siblings. Today it is how ever many moms or dads one wishes to have.
That's not education, that's indoctrination.
My wife and I have no children in the public school system because we have no children of our own. Had we decided to have children, no way would they attend today's public schools.
In fact, given the obscene amount of school taxes we pay on our property even though we have no kids in school, I'm still trying to figure out a way to ask the school district for a refund for a defective product.
Throw out the damned "pass this test or you can't graduate" crap. Start teaching children the basics such as how to read, how to add and subtract, the history of our nation, how our Constitution operates, what the inside of a frog looks like, etc.
Until that happens, I'm all for private school vouchers.
We are insane. Certifiably insane.
Must be my week for welfare scams. . .
I'm in a national-brand retailer this past weekend and overhear a conversation between a couple of employees. It seems one girl we'll call Mary is having to do some extra duty at another sister store to cover another girl we'll call Nangumba.
Nangumba is from Nigeria and is pregnant with her sixth child. Nangumba is not a U.S. citizen, nor is her husband.
But her previous five kids are.
You see, they are anchor babies. Babies born on the soil of the United States, which makes them citizens, even when their scumbag, scamming, deceit-laden piece of shit parents are not.
It also means that as citizens living at or below the poverty line, they get free healthcare through Medicaid, housing subsidies through HUD, food stamps and WIC (Women, Infants, Children) benefits--plus welfare through SSI.
One more time--what the (F-BOMB) is going on here?
I'm for taking Nangumba and her deadbeat husband and sticking their deadbeat asses on a slow boat back to Nigeria, then giving the Somalian pirates a heads-up that another boat is headed their way.
And Nangumba and her husband would have some ransom money to pay. Believe me.
It seems that Nangumba and her husband came over to the U.S. as part of a program run by the Nigerian government, famous for its scams, and what has transpired is this:
• Nangumba and husband come to America, get I9 (green card) identification, find jobs.
• Nangumba immediately gets knocked up (pregnant), files for benefits and assistance. Also notifies her employer that she'll be exercising her rights under the FMLA.
• Nangumba is paid remaining sick time, plus short-term disability by employer, even though she's only worked the minimal time required.
• Nangumba and husband do this five more times, and with each child, they get an increasing amount of SSI, housing subsidies and food stamp allocation. Estimated that they're drawing almost $100K/year in government benefits.
• Meanwhile, Nangumba and husband send almost every dollar they've earned at their American jobs back to their bank in Nigeria where it has sat quietly drawing interest.
Mary stated that Nangumba had told her that they had over $250,000 saved and deposited in their Nigerian bank--more than enough for them to live like literal royalty when they return to Nigeria.
What are they waiting on?
They're waiting until this last kid is born, vaccinated and has gone through most of his/her childhood illnesses and received a basic education before they haul the tribe back to Africa.
Oh, guess I forgot to mention that the kids also get a free education out of this deal. They're U.S. citizens, after all.
Nangumba is only one of thousands, of tens of thousands, maybe of a million or more leeching immigrants who come here to the U.S. for no other reason than to bleed us dry.
Screw them. We're closed. Go back to that shithole continent you call home and that we call Africa. Stay there. Deal with the Somalians. Straighten your own messes out.
And before you leave, stop by Washington DC and grab a politician under one arm, and a reporter under the other and take them with you.
I've had it with immigration.
I'm in a national-brand retailer this past weekend and overhear a conversation between a couple of employees. It seems one girl we'll call Mary is having to do some extra duty at another sister store to cover another girl we'll call Nangumba.
Nangumba is from Nigeria and is pregnant with her sixth child. Nangumba is not a U.S. citizen, nor is her husband.
But her previous five kids are.
You see, they are anchor babies. Babies born on the soil of the United States, which makes them citizens, even when their scumbag, scamming, deceit-laden piece of shit parents are not.
It also means that as citizens living at or below the poverty line, they get free healthcare through Medicaid, housing subsidies through HUD, food stamps and WIC (Women, Infants, Children) benefits--plus welfare through SSI.
One more time--what the (F-BOMB) is going on here?
I'm for taking Nangumba and her deadbeat husband and sticking their deadbeat asses on a slow boat back to Nigeria, then giving the Somalian pirates a heads-up that another boat is headed their way.
And Nangumba and her husband would have some ransom money to pay. Believe me.
It seems that Nangumba and her husband came over to the U.S. as part of a program run by the Nigerian government, famous for its scams, and what has transpired is this:
• Nangumba and husband come to America, get I9 (green card) identification, find jobs.
• Nangumba immediately gets knocked up (pregnant), files for benefits and assistance. Also notifies her employer that she'll be exercising her rights under the FMLA.
• Nangumba is paid remaining sick time, plus short-term disability by employer, even though she's only worked the minimal time required.
• Nangumba and husband do this five more times, and with each child, they get an increasing amount of SSI, housing subsidies and food stamp allocation. Estimated that they're drawing almost $100K/year in government benefits.
• Meanwhile, Nangumba and husband send almost every dollar they've earned at their American jobs back to their bank in Nigeria where it has sat quietly drawing interest.
Mary stated that Nangumba had told her that they had over $250,000 saved and deposited in their Nigerian bank--more than enough for them to live like literal royalty when they return to Nigeria.
What are they waiting on?
They're waiting until this last kid is born, vaccinated and has gone through most of his/her childhood illnesses and received a basic education before they haul the tribe back to Africa.
Oh, guess I forgot to mention that the kids also get a free education out of this deal. They're U.S. citizens, after all.
Nangumba is only one of thousands, of tens of thousands, maybe of a million or more leeching immigrants who come here to the U.S. for no other reason than to bleed us dry.
Screw them. We're closed. Go back to that shithole continent you call home and that we call Africa. Stay there. Deal with the Somalians. Straighten your own messes out.
And before you leave, stop by Washington DC and grab a politician under one arm, and a reporter under the other and take them with you.
I've had it with immigration.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Sensible gun control
Sensible gun control laws. A phrase I hear from cowards all the time.
When I say "cowards," about 90% of the time I'm referring to liberals. And to me, the term "Liberal" is synonymous with "Pacifist," with "Coward," with "Logically Challenged," with "Employment Deficient," and anyone with a San Francisco zip code.
So, when I hear appeals for sensible gun control laws from liberals and liberal politicians, I can't help but chuckle.
This is where the "Logically Challenged" label comes in. Liberals mistakenly believe that if there were sensible gun control laws, there would be no senseless violence.
Only a liberal could honestly believe that. But that's where the label of "Coward" comes in because cowards like to play make-believe a lot and like to deny reality.
I was listening to a conservative talking head on the radio last night on my way back into town. The topic was illegal drugs and the drug war.
Stupid me, I thought we already had sensible drug laws--yet we have a drug war going on. A war that we're losing. We're not losing it because it's not winnable. We're losing it because the Liberals are in charge of it.
When it comes to the drug war and things like that, Republican and Democrat have nothing to do with being liberal or conservative. Fact of the matter is, most politicians--of any stripe--are cowards, as well as being logically challenged.
The solution, according to a slew of politicians and their learned supporters from great bastions of courage and freedom like Harvard, Yale and Stanford was that Education is the key to winning the drug war.
If we just educate people about drugs, then nobody will want to do drugs is what they're asking us to believe.
But when I ask these same numbnuts how about Education for all Americans in regards to firearms and firearms handling and ownership and if that wouldn't decrease the senseless violence they're moaning about. . . the room gets awful quiet, awful quick.
Then I point out that we've been "educating" generation after generation of Americans about illegal drugs since the early 60's. We've also made a lot of laws against illegal drugs.
Yet, we still have illegal drugs everywhere.
So I then ask the Logically-Challenged why sensible gun control laws will stop the senseless violence they're fretting over--if the majority of the violence is being committed by the same segment of society that we've been "educating" for one generation after another about illegal drugs?
You see, the concept of "criminal" doesn't enter the thinking of a Liberal because a Liberal thinks that education will solve everything.
But wait a minute. . . aren't our public schools all run by liberals?
Hard for a Liberal to make an effective argument for sensible gun control laws when every single other solution to society's ills that they've put forth have failed dismally.
And that senseless violence? The overwhelming majority of it is crime-on-crime violence, and I don't consider it senseless. Instead, I consider it much like when wildfires burn out of control in California--where the liberals have enacted sensible environmental laws to protect against clear-cutting and the clearing of underbrush.
In other words, when nature runs its course, it will eventually clean out its own undergrowth. Back during my days in law enforcement, we used to consider it only a misdemeanor murder when one gangster shot and killed another gangster. We never broke a sweat over it. The liberals cried that "there would be a gang war."
Again, there's that analogy to forest fires again and clearing out the underbrush of society.
No crime in our neighborhood. We all have jobs, we know each other, we watch out for each other, and we're armed. To the teeth.
That's what's sensible to me.
Tweet
When I say "cowards," about 90% of the time I'm referring to liberals. And to me, the term "Liberal" is synonymous with "Pacifist," with "Coward," with "Logically Challenged," with "Employment Deficient," and anyone with a San Francisco zip code.
So, when I hear appeals for sensible gun control laws from liberals and liberal politicians, I can't help but chuckle.
This is where the "Logically Challenged" label comes in. Liberals mistakenly believe that if there were sensible gun control laws, there would be no senseless violence.
Only a liberal could honestly believe that. But that's where the label of "Coward" comes in because cowards like to play make-believe a lot and like to deny reality.
I was listening to a conservative talking head on the radio last night on my way back into town. The topic was illegal drugs and the drug war.
Stupid me, I thought we already had sensible drug laws--yet we have a drug war going on. A war that we're losing. We're not losing it because it's not winnable. We're losing it because the Liberals are in charge of it.
When it comes to the drug war and things like that, Republican and Democrat have nothing to do with being liberal or conservative. Fact of the matter is, most politicians--of any stripe--are cowards, as well as being logically challenged.
The solution, according to a slew of politicians and their learned supporters from great bastions of courage and freedom like Harvard, Yale and Stanford was that Education is the key to winning the drug war.
If we just educate people about drugs, then nobody will want to do drugs is what they're asking us to believe.
But when I ask these same numbnuts how about Education for all Americans in regards to firearms and firearms handling and ownership and if that wouldn't decrease the senseless violence they're moaning about. . . the room gets awful quiet, awful quick.
Then I point out that we've been "educating" generation after generation of Americans about illegal drugs since the early 60's. We've also made a lot of laws against illegal drugs.
Yet, we still have illegal drugs everywhere.
So I then ask the Logically-Challenged why sensible gun control laws will stop the senseless violence they're fretting over--if the majority of the violence is being committed by the same segment of society that we've been "educating" for one generation after another about illegal drugs?
You see, the concept of "criminal" doesn't enter the thinking of a Liberal because a Liberal thinks that education will solve everything.
But wait a minute. . . aren't our public schools all run by liberals?
Hard for a Liberal to make an effective argument for sensible gun control laws when every single other solution to society's ills that they've put forth have failed dismally.
And that senseless violence? The overwhelming majority of it is crime-on-crime violence, and I don't consider it senseless. Instead, I consider it much like when wildfires burn out of control in California--where the liberals have enacted sensible environmental laws to protect against clear-cutting and the clearing of underbrush.
In other words, when nature runs its course, it will eventually clean out its own undergrowth. Back during my days in law enforcement, we used to consider it only a misdemeanor murder when one gangster shot and killed another gangster. We never broke a sweat over it. The liberals cried that "there would be a gang war."
Again, there's that analogy to forest fires again and clearing out the underbrush of society.
No crime in our neighborhood. We all have jobs, we know each other, we watch out for each other, and we're armed. To the teeth.
That's what's sensible to me.
Tweet
Friday, March 25, 2011
Welfare cheats are scum
Maybe I oughta just stay away from most retail establishments. . .
I'm in a store today and standing in line behind a woman who was talking on her Blackberry phone. She was talking non-stop and about absolutely nothing--like most inconsiderate assholes who can't stop talking on their damn phone long enough to even acknowledge the cashier.
So she continues to ramble on about some restaurant she ate at last night--an expensive one--and how she was going shopping this evening. On the counter was a pile of brand-name soda pop, expensive boxed fruit juices, beef jerky, and various bags of candy including two bags of Skittles.
The cashier goes to gather everything up to run through the scanner, and the inconsiderate wench finally paused yakking long enough to tell the cashier, "Only rings up one bag of dem Skittles. I gots to rings that other one up separately."
No spelling error--this was how she talked and enunciated.
The cashier rang everything up and gave the lady her total. The lady then asks, "You take the SNAP card, don't you?" as she was sliding the card through the pin pad machine.
SNAP stands for Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program. In my day, it was called Food Stamps.
For the record, I have nothing against helping out folks who have fallen on hard times, for whatever reasons. There's a lot to that old epiphany of "There but for the grace of God go I." But I also feel like welfare should be a temporary measure and a hand-up to help folks get back on their feet.
It should not be a source of income and a way of life for successive generations like we saw after Hurricane Katrina exposed the freeloading underbelly of New Orleans.
So, back to this yakky wench talking on her $500 phone, who was also wearing new and starched designer jeans, an abundance of jewelry around her neck and on her fingers, and had quite the hairdo. She slides her welfare card in, puts in her identification code, and just like that, the taxpayers of Texas footed the bill for this freeloader's cokes, candy, beef jerky and other junk crap--none of which had a damned bit of nutritional value other than keeping this woman's already fat ass even fatter.
As if that didn't steam me enough. . . remember that second lone bag of Skittles that she wanted rang separate?
The cashier rang that one, and the wench asked how much cash back she could get--after she whipped out her debit card. The limit was $20, which didn't please the freeloading wench and she began bitching about how she used to could get up to $100 back. Her Skittles were only .53¢, by the way.
I'd had enough.
"There's an ATM machine up by the front door," I tell her. "Better yet, why don't you use YOUR OWN damn money to buy that crap and leave your food stamps for buying real food?"
The woman turns around and looks at me. "Who the (f-bomb) you think you be, talking to me like that?" she tells me.
That did it.
"YOU, you freeloading, lazy sorry fat-assed piece of shit!" I said right back at her.
"That's your brand new minivan out there, isn't it?" another customer asked her accusingly. I guess he'd seen her drive up. "New car, new clothes, new phone, fancy-assed high-class restaurants and we're all paying for it."
"Wish I could afford a $500 Blackberry phone and your designer clothes, too," a nurse who was still wearing her scrubs and whose ID tag identified her as an RN remarked to the wench. "But unlike you, lady, I have to pay my own way."
And just like that, the crowd at the checkout lanes turned on this woman and verbally ate her alive. The woman grabbed her $20 out of the cashier's hand and grabbed her sacks full of junk snacks, headed for the door--and at the door turned around and flipped us all off and told us we was "a bunch of sorry-assed racist motherfuckers!"
I guess she missed the fact that the guy behind that also jumped on her case was as black as she was. Or that the RN was Hispanic. Besides, I've said the same thing to white pieces of shit who freeload off society and abuse their food stamps and welfare. I don't give a damn what color you are. You freeload off of decent, hard-working society and then act like it's all a big game and you're entitled, you're going to incur some wrath and that's all there is to it.
But at least today, I was heartened--greatly--to have been surrounded by other hard working ordinary Americans who were just as infuriated. And like me, they chose to no longer stay silent.
Sometimes all you need is to be a catalyst.
Tweet
I'm in a store today and standing in line behind a woman who was talking on her Blackberry phone. She was talking non-stop and about absolutely nothing--like most inconsiderate assholes who can't stop talking on their damn phone long enough to even acknowledge the cashier.
So she continues to ramble on about some restaurant she ate at last night--an expensive one--and how she was going shopping this evening. On the counter was a pile of brand-name soda pop, expensive boxed fruit juices, beef jerky, and various bags of candy including two bags of Skittles.
The cashier goes to gather everything up to run through the scanner, and the inconsiderate wench finally paused yakking long enough to tell the cashier, "Only rings up one bag of dem Skittles. I gots to rings that other one up separately."
No spelling error--this was how she talked and enunciated.
The cashier rang everything up and gave the lady her total. The lady then asks, "You take the SNAP card, don't you?" as she was sliding the card through the pin pad machine.
SNAP stands for Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program. In my day, it was called Food Stamps.
For the record, I have nothing against helping out folks who have fallen on hard times, for whatever reasons. There's a lot to that old epiphany of "There but for the grace of God go I." But I also feel like welfare should be a temporary measure and a hand-up to help folks get back on their feet.
It should not be a source of income and a way of life for successive generations like we saw after Hurricane Katrina exposed the freeloading underbelly of New Orleans.
So, back to this yakky wench talking on her $500 phone, who was also wearing new and starched designer jeans, an abundance of jewelry around her neck and on her fingers, and had quite the hairdo. She slides her welfare card in, puts in her identification code, and just like that, the taxpayers of Texas footed the bill for this freeloader's cokes, candy, beef jerky and other junk crap--none of which had a damned bit of nutritional value other than keeping this woman's already fat ass even fatter.
As if that didn't steam me enough. . . remember that second lone bag of Skittles that she wanted rang separate?
The cashier rang that one, and the wench asked how much cash back she could get--after she whipped out her debit card. The limit was $20, which didn't please the freeloading wench and she began bitching about how she used to could get up to $100 back. Her Skittles were only .53¢, by the way.
I'd had enough.
"There's an ATM machine up by the front door," I tell her. "Better yet, why don't you use YOUR OWN damn money to buy that crap and leave your food stamps for buying real food?"
The woman turns around and looks at me. "Who the (f-bomb) you think you be, talking to me like that?" she tells me.
That did it.
"YOU, you freeloading, lazy sorry fat-assed piece of shit!" I said right back at her.
"That's your brand new minivan out there, isn't it?" another customer asked her accusingly. I guess he'd seen her drive up. "New car, new clothes, new phone, fancy-assed high-class restaurants and we're all paying for it."
"Wish I could afford a $500 Blackberry phone and your designer clothes, too," a nurse who was still wearing her scrubs and whose ID tag identified her as an RN remarked to the wench. "But unlike you, lady, I have to pay my own way."
And just like that, the crowd at the checkout lanes turned on this woman and verbally ate her alive. The woman grabbed her $20 out of the cashier's hand and grabbed her sacks full of junk snacks, headed for the door--and at the door turned around and flipped us all off and told us we was "a bunch of sorry-assed racist motherfuckers!"
I guess she missed the fact that the guy behind that also jumped on her case was as black as she was. Or that the RN was Hispanic. Besides, I've said the same thing to white pieces of shit who freeload off society and abuse their food stamps and welfare. I don't give a damn what color you are. You freeload off of decent, hard-working society and then act like it's all a big game and you're entitled, you're going to incur some wrath and that's all there is to it.
But at least today, I was heartened--greatly--to have been surrounded by other hard working ordinary Americans who were just as infuriated. And like me, they chose to no longer stay silent.
Sometimes all you need is to be a catalyst.
Tweet
Thursday, March 24, 2011
We should've kissed Elvis when we had the chance
It doesn't seem like it was all that long ago when the elders of our nation were up in arms over Elvis. Preachers were telling us that his music, as well as all of rock and roll, was the Devil's music and that it would lead to fornication and eternal damnation.
Little did they know what was in store. Maybe Tipper Gore did, but then she had her husband, Al, and his romps with masseuses to deal with. (I'm sure Al Gore blames his overheated hormones on global warming.)
Parents, elders and the morally-conscious complained that Elvis shook his pelvis and ground his hips in a "suggestive way." I could retort by saying we all know he learned those moves from Forrest Gump. Instead, I'll point out that Jim Morrison of The Doors showed us his entire genital package on stage once in Miami back in the 60s. Thankfully he was arrested and I once read that the police later joked that it was just a "minor infraction."
And of course, Madonna shook more than just her pelvis any time she was on stage. She often mimicked the complete sex act. In fact, she came out with an entire book filled with explicit photographs of her in various stages of undress and in very suggestive and sexually provocative poses. And what about Janet Jackson and the infamous "wardrobe malfunction?"
Ed Sullivan would have spit his dentures out if he'd seen that.
When duty called, Elvis went into the Army. From all accounts I've read, he was popular with the other soldiers in his company and he just did his job with a minimal of fuss. In the 60s and 70s, we had folk singers and rock and roll bands protesting the war and singing songs about burning draft cards and badmouthing America every chance they got.
Elvis swooned many a young girl's heart when he sang "Love Me Tender." The 80s gave us "Me So Horny" by some rap group from Florida.
One of Elvis' biggest hits was "Jailhouse Rock." A portion of the song went, "Hey, buddy, don't you be no square. If you can't find a partner use a wooden chair." In the early 90s, a "gangsta rapper" calling himself "Ice T" gave us a song called "Cop Killer" in which some of the lyrics went, "I got my twelve gauge sawed off. I got my headlights turned off. I'm 'bout to bust some shots off. I'm 'bout to dust some cops off."
Charming.
Elvis shook his hips, greased his hair into a ducktail and often had an expression that was a combination of a sneer and a pout. In the late 50s and early 60s, high school boys by the millions greased their hair back in ducktails and practiced the Elvis pout/sneer expression. A generation later, we had bands smearing their faces with makeup, spitting fire and barfing blood all over the stage. Then along came MTV and with it, video interpretations of songs that left very little to the imagination as far as sex and violence were concerned.
Suddenly I'm feeling very old.
It's been over thirty years since we lost the King of Rock and Roll. But in that time, we've lost even more as far as rock and roll itself is concerned.
Rock and roll used to be fun and fairly innocent. It was often about love, such as when Buddy Holly sang "Peggy Sue," or when Jerry Lee Lewis performed "Great Balls of Fire." Or it was just about having fun such as when Chubby Checker had us doing "The Twist" and Ritchie Valens was teaching us how to sing in Spanish with "La Bamba." The most sexually provocative song out was "Louie Louie" by The Kingsman. I have no idea why as the lyrics are basically unintelligible, but that's how the story goes.
Now we have music that is not only sexually provocative, but also accompanying videos that would make Masters and Johnson blush and cause Dr. Ruth to faint dead away. We have songs talking about rape, killing cops, pedophilia, race wars and drugs.
Know what's even more frightening?
Each new generation of so-called musicians seems determined to shock and disgust us even more than their predecessors did. And so far, they're succeeding. Today we have little shit-stains like Eminem posing with his middle fingers out everywhere he goes. We have ghetto/prison rappers that all the little suburban white kids seemingly can't get enough of.
Maybe the Mexicans here in Texas have it right with their mariachi music. It always sounds festive and fun, and it's rare you ever see a frowning Mexican at one of their parties.
On the other hand, go to a party where gangster and "anti-society" rap is the norm, and all you see are surly, pouting teenage and young adult faces. And trust me: their pouting and sneering doesn't look anything like the pout/sneer from the King of Rock and Roll.
Like I said, we should've kissed Elvis when we had the chance.
Tweet
Little did they know what was in store. Maybe Tipper Gore did, but then she had her husband, Al, and his romps with masseuses to deal with. (I'm sure Al Gore blames his overheated hormones on global warming.)
Parents, elders and the morally-conscious complained that Elvis shook his pelvis and ground his hips in a "suggestive way." I could retort by saying we all know he learned those moves from Forrest Gump. Instead, I'll point out that Jim Morrison of The Doors showed us his entire genital package on stage once in Miami back in the 60s. Thankfully he was arrested and I once read that the police later joked that it was just a "minor infraction."
And of course, Madonna shook more than just her pelvis any time she was on stage. She often mimicked the complete sex act. In fact, she came out with an entire book filled with explicit photographs of her in various stages of undress and in very suggestive and sexually provocative poses. And what about Janet Jackson and the infamous "wardrobe malfunction?"
Ed Sullivan would have spit his dentures out if he'd seen that.
When duty called, Elvis went into the Army. From all accounts I've read, he was popular with the other soldiers in his company and he just did his job with a minimal of fuss. In the 60s and 70s, we had folk singers and rock and roll bands protesting the war and singing songs about burning draft cards and badmouthing America every chance they got.
Elvis swooned many a young girl's heart when he sang "Love Me Tender." The 80s gave us "Me So Horny" by some rap group from Florida.
One of Elvis' biggest hits was "Jailhouse Rock." A portion of the song went, "Hey, buddy, don't you be no square. If you can't find a partner use a wooden chair." In the early 90s, a "gangsta rapper" calling himself "Ice T" gave us a song called "Cop Killer" in which some of the lyrics went, "I got my twelve gauge sawed off. I got my headlights turned off. I'm 'bout to bust some shots off. I'm 'bout to dust some cops off."
Charming.
Elvis shook his hips, greased his hair into a ducktail and often had an expression that was a combination of a sneer and a pout. In the late 50s and early 60s, high school boys by the millions greased their hair back in ducktails and practiced the Elvis pout/sneer expression. A generation later, we had bands smearing their faces with makeup, spitting fire and barfing blood all over the stage. Then along came MTV and with it, video interpretations of songs that left very little to the imagination as far as sex and violence were concerned.
Suddenly I'm feeling very old.
It's been over thirty years since we lost the King of Rock and Roll. But in that time, we've lost even more as far as rock and roll itself is concerned.
Rock and roll used to be fun and fairly innocent. It was often about love, such as when Buddy Holly sang "Peggy Sue," or when Jerry Lee Lewis performed "Great Balls of Fire." Or it was just about having fun such as when Chubby Checker had us doing "The Twist" and Ritchie Valens was teaching us how to sing in Spanish with "La Bamba." The most sexually provocative song out was "Louie Louie" by The Kingsman. I have no idea why as the lyrics are basically unintelligible, but that's how the story goes.
Now we have music that is not only sexually provocative, but also accompanying videos that would make Masters and Johnson blush and cause Dr. Ruth to faint dead away. We have songs talking about rape, killing cops, pedophilia, race wars and drugs.
Know what's even more frightening?
Each new generation of so-called musicians seems determined to shock and disgust us even more than their predecessors did. And so far, they're succeeding. Today we have little shit-stains like Eminem posing with his middle fingers out everywhere he goes. We have ghetto/prison rappers that all the little suburban white kids seemingly can't get enough of.
Maybe the Mexicans here in Texas have it right with their mariachi music. It always sounds festive and fun, and it's rare you ever see a frowning Mexican at one of their parties.
On the other hand, go to a party where gangster and "anti-society" rap is the norm, and all you see are surly, pouting teenage and young adult faces. And trust me: their pouting and sneering doesn't look anything like the pout/sneer from the King of Rock and Roll.
Like I said, we should've kissed Elvis when we had the chance.
Tweet
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Teenage waste products
OK, I know I'm painting with a pretty broad brush here, so it'll be easier, not to mention a helluva lot faster, to exclude the good teenagers of today's generation.
Each of us (hopefully) knows at least one. I'm fortunate and know probably a dozen or so. We know these kids and young adults and we know that they are a joy to be around. They make good neighbors, good employees, good students. . . they make for good Americans.
The rest? Pure waste products. And getting worse, not better.
Our generation moans about there not being any Social Security left when we reach retirement age. I tell those people to hell with Social Security and that a reason there won't be any is because the selfish, worthless little shits that pass for the next generation are too damn stupid, lazy and aimless to amount to much of anything unless it involves being a professional video-game geek, text-messenger or night club slut.
Pretty strong, huh?
Just a few days ago, I wrote about deadbeat parents and the damage they cause to the children they write off or disown or otherwise neglect and abuse. I still hold to that.
But today, let's talk about the inverse: Overly Permissive Parents, or OPP's for short.
What is an Overly Permissive Parent? Simple: A parent who lets their kid get away with pretty much anything, then when the brat is caught, hires a lawyer and starts screeching that whatever little Jerk or Jerkette did wasn't their fault.
In between times the brat is getting in trouble, the OPP spoils their kid(s) with cars, stereos, computers, $40,000 cars, $500 phones, spring-break cruises and vacations, designer clothes and for the little girl brats, boob and butt jobs.
Yes, boob jobs--as in, we're gonna make those teenage titties two to three times the size they really need to be. And if the butt isn't poochy enough? No problem. We'll get Dr. Plastic to fix that as well.
Then, sometime in between the iPhones and spring break cruises and after the boob and butt jobs, the next gift from the OPP is either an abortion or nine months worth of pre-natal vitamins, because in this day and age, the little Jerks are knocking up the little Jerkettes at an alarming rate.
In my day, a high school girl who got pregnant was pretty much ostracized. While nobody openly looked down on the girl, nobody damn sure condoned her behavior and decision. Likewise for the jerkwad who knocked her up. A few guys might snicker that he's a real stud, but most of us saw him for the inconsiderate dumbass he was.
Today, the jerkette is hailed as a hero of virtue while at the same time, pitied with crocodile tears from her envious fellow jerkettes for the "situation" she somehow found herself in.
Interesting. These are the same jerks and jerkettes that imbibe in "sexting" and "Girls Gone Wild" parties and homemade porn parties--yet they suddenly become clueless as to how little Jerkette got that ever growing speed bump in her belly that threatens her bellybutton piercing?
Where the F-BOMB are the parents? I'll tell you. Read on. I'm confident you can relate.
High school reunions over the past thirty years prove that the jerkwads change damn little over the course of three decades. But the real problem is that they spawn little Jerkwad, Juniors. Same with the Jerkettes.
Which all would lead up to the age-old excuse of "Well, the kids just have bad parents."
Damn right they do. But they also have opportunities that we didn't have at their age. Between cell phones, the internet, e-mail and the electronic information age, there is zero reason for them to turn out like the little jerks and jerkettes that they are. There are more places to get help, more places to get counseling, more places to get free birth control and more places to find proper role models than ever before in this country's history.
But that's no fun. It's more fun to go to parties and film porno parties in the back bedrooms. It's more fun to go to Walmart and Target and shoplift OTC medications and steal from their psychotic, hypochondriac parents' prescription pill stashes and take all that stuff to their parties where they mix it with alcohol that they are too young to legally purchase or possess. It's more fun to go on vandalism sprees around the neighborhood smashing out windows and spray-painting graffiti on homes and automobiles. It's too fun for the boys to wear droopy looking pants that hang down to their knees, for for the little girls to dress like London crack whores.
And yet, their parents see exactly how they are dressed when they leave the house. When the police catch them at their dope and porno parties, "NOT MY KID!" is the wail of protest from these pillars of parenthood.
And the kids stand there smug, surly and defiant, glaring at the police and anyone else because they know mommy and daddy will bail them out and take care of everything.
These are the jerks and jerkettes of our present society. Their parents are just as bad. Maybe even worse.
You can tell a lot about a family by their kids in the majority of cases. When we were growing up, the saying went, "Like father, like son."
Well, given the preponderance of waste-product teenagers and pre-21 adults today, I think the saying could go, "Like parents, like children."
Translation? Both parents and offspring are waste products.
Each of us (hopefully) knows at least one. I'm fortunate and know probably a dozen or so. We know these kids and young adults and we know that they are a joy to be around. They make good neighbors, good employees, good students. . . they make for good Americans.
The rest? Pure waste products. And getting worse, not better.
Our generation moans about there not being any Social Security left when we reach retirement age. I tell those people to hell with Social Security and that a reason there won't be any is because the selfish, worthless little shits that pass for the next generation are too damn stupid, lazy and aimless to amount to much of anything unless it involves being a professional video-game geek, text-messenger or night club slut.
Pretty strong, huh?
Just a few days ago, I wrote about deadbeat parents and the damage they cause to the children they write off or disown or otherwise neglect and abuse. I still hold to that.
But today, let's talk about the inverse: Overly Permissive Parents, or OPP's for short.
What is an Overly Permissive Parent? Simple: A parent who lets their kid get away with pretty much anything, then when the brat is caught, hires a lawyer and starts screeching that whatever little Jerk or Jerkette did wasn't their fault.
In between times the brat is getting in trouble, the OPP spoils their kid(s) with cars, stereos, computers, $40,000 cars, $500 phones, spring-break cruises and vacations, designer clothes and for the little girl brats, boob and butt jobs.
Yes, boob jobs--as in, we're gonna make those teenage titties two to three times the size they really need to be. And if the butt isn't poochy enough? No problem. We'll get Dr. Plastic to fix that as well.
Then, sometime in between the iPhones and spring break cruises and after the boob and butt jobs, the next gift from the OPP is either an abortion or nine months worth of pre-natal vitamins, because in this day and age, the little Jerks are knocking up the little Jerkettes at an alarming rate.
In my day, a high school girl who got pregnant was pretty much ostracized. While nobody openly looked down on the girl, nobody damn sure condoned her behavior and decision. Likewise for the jerkwad who knocked her up. A few guys might snicker that he's a real stud, but most of us saw him for the inconsiderate dumbass he was.
Today, the jerkette is hailed as a hero of virtue while at the same time, pitied with crocodile tears from her envious fellow jerkettes for the "situation" she somehow found herself in.
Interesting. These are the same jerks and jerkettes that imbibe in "sexting" and "Girls Gone Wild" parties and homemade porn parties--yet they suddenly become clueless as to how little Jerkette got that ever growing speed bump in her belly that threatens her bellybutton piercing?
Where the F-BOMB are the parents? I'll tell you. Read on. I'm confident you can relate.
High school reunions over the past thirty years prove that the jerkwads change damn little over the course of three decades. But the real problem is that they spawn little Jerkwad, Juniors. Same with the Jerkettes.
Which all would lead up to the age-old excuse of "Well, the kids just have bad parents."
Damn right they do. But they also have opportunities that we didn't have at their age. Between cell phones, the internet, e-mail and the electronic information age, there is zero reason for them to turn out like the little jerks and jerkettes that they are. There are more places to get help, more places to get counseling, more places to get free birth control and more places to find proper role models than ever before in this country's history.
But that's no fun. It's more fun to go to parties and film porno parties in the back bedrooms. It's more fun to go to Walmart and Target and shoplift OTC medications and steal from their psychotic, hypochondriac parents' prescription pill stashes and take all that stuff to their parties where they mix it with alcohol that they are too young to legally purchase or possess. It's more fun to go on vandalism sprees around the neighborhood smashing out windows and spray-painting graffiti on homes and automobiles. It's too fun for the boys to wear droopy looking pants that hang down to their knees, for for the little girls to dress like London crack whores.
And yet, their parents see exactly how they are dressed when they leave the house. When the police catch them at their dope and porno parties, "NOT MY KID!" is the wail of protest from these pillars of parenthood.
And the kids stand there smug, surly and defiant, glaring at the police and anyone else because they know mommy and daddy will bail them out and take care of everything.
These are the jerks and jerkettes of our present society. Their parents are just as bad. Maybe even worse.
You can tell a lot about a family by their kids in the majority of cases. When we were growing up, the saying went, "Like father, like son."
Well, given the preponderance of waste-product teenagers and pre-21 adults today, I think the saying could go, "Like parents, like children."
Translation? Both parents and offspring are waste products.
Sexual revolution. . . how many does this make now?
Revolution.
The dictionary describes it as the overthrow of a government or social order. Interestingly enough, the same dictionary also describes it as the process of revolving around in a circle, as in orbit.
To that end, I had thought the sexual revolution was long since kapoot. It seems I was wrong.
Between sexually transmitted diseases and the Jerry Falwell types, with one being just as unpleasant to think about as the other, I had mistakenly assumed that the sexual revolution had come to an end and we Americans had refocused our energies elsewhere.
Several incidents I’ve witnessed as of late have me convinced otherwise.
At the end of last summer, I was out on the boat anchored in my favorite cove when I noticed a large cabin-cruiser type pull into the cove. It wasn’t long before the boat, and its young, very female guest, drifted over my way. I could see the young girl in the water hanging on to an inflatable raft and she was a bombshell in a skimpy bikini. My handkerchief could have made three of her swimsuits. Blonde, perhaps mid-twenties, and even in the water, her mascara and makeup were still perfect. I could also tell she was well on her way to a respectable level of intoxication.
As she drifted over to me, she called out, “Hey Mister! Do you have a beer?”
For the record, we never have any booze on our boat. Period. I’m not a prohibitionist by any means and you can drink a distillery every day if you like, just don’t get behind the wheel of anything that moves.
“Nope,” I answered, not having to yell because she had drifted to within ten or fifteen feet of me. “Don’t keep any on board. Sorry.”
She thought about that for a moment, then climbed up on her floating raft. “If you give me a beer, I’ll show you my (rhymes with zits).”
My first thought was that I couldn’t believe what she just said. My second thought was I wonder what she'd show me for a six-pack? I looked at the guy driving the big boat that she was with and he just shrugged. “Give her a beer if you got one,” he called out. “She’ll put on a show for you.”
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen such things on the lake. Last summer, I had pulled up anchor and was leaving the cove and passed a floating mansion of a boat that had one guy at the helm and four young women in various stages of undress frolicking about on the forward deck. As I cruised by, I saw that two of the young women were absolutely naked and engaged in the sort of activity that ends up on videos you used to rent at adult bookstores. As I passed them, everyone on the boat waved, including the two girls doing the indescribable deed. Friendly folks.
I smiled and waved back. What else could I do—and they didn’t ask me for a beer, did they?
When I told this story the next day at the office, one of my employees enlightened me to the facts. Seems that he had bartended at a “gentleman’s club” for almost a year while he was attending college. “The money and tips were pretty good,” he explained. “And you couldn’t beat the scenery.”
“What happens,” he went on to tell me, “is that these rich guys will come into the club, get drunk and start tipping heavily. A lot of them own big boats they keep out on the lake and after a few drinks, they’ll invite some of the girls back to their boat with them after the club closes.”
I grew up in the middle of the sexual revolution when sex was as common as mosquito bites. When I became of age, a lot of my buddies started going to (rhymes with pity) bars. I went a couple of times but that was it. I have about as much use for those places as I do nosebleeds. Besides, it’s like feeding a starving dog a rubber bone.
Unless, apparently, you own a cabin-cruiser yacht.
Revolutions are wars and wars are best fought by people younger than myself. If what I’ve been seeing at the lake as of late is any indication, another sexual revolution could very well be headed our way. With any luck, however, this one will just be a minor skirmish.
And being the prude that I am, I believe I’ll just sit this one out.
The dictionary describes it as the overthrow of a government or social order. Interestingly enough, the same dictionary also describes it as the process of revolving around in a circle, as in orbit.
To that end, I had thought the sexual revolution was long since kapoot. It seems I was wrong.
Between sexually transmitted diseases and the Jerry Falwell types, with one being just as unpleasant to think about as the other, I had mistakenly assumed that the sexual revolution had come to an end and we Americans had refocused our energies elsewhere.
Several incidents I’ve witnessed as of late have me convinced otherwise.
At the end of last summer, I was out on the boat anchored in my favorite cove when I noticed a large cabin-cruiser type pull into the cove. It wasn’t long before the boat, and its young, very female guest, drifted over my way. I could see the young girl in the water hanging on to an inflatable raft and she was a bombshell in a skimpy bikini. My handkerchief could have made three of her swimsuits. Blonde, perhaps mid-twenties, and even in the water, her mascara and makeup were still perfect. I could also tell she was well on her way to a respectable level of intoxication.
As she drifted over to me, she called out, “Hey Mister! Do you have a beer?”
For the record, we never have any booze on our boat. Period. I’m not a prohibitionist by any means and you can drink a distillery every day if you like, just don’t get behind the wheel of anything that moves.
“Nope,” I answered, not having to yell because she had drifted to within ten or fifteen feet of me. “Don’t keep any on board. Sorry.”
She thought about that for a moment, then climbed up on her floating raft. “If you give me a beer, I’ll show you my (rhymes with zits).”
My first thought was that I couldn’t believe what she just said. My second thought was I wonder what she'd show me for a six-pack? I looked at the guy driving the big boat that she was with and he just shrugged. “Give her a beer if you got one,” he called out. “She’ll put on a show for you.”
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen such things on the lake. Last summer, I had pulled up anchor and was leaving the cove and passed a floating mansion of a boat that had one guy at the helm and four young women in various stages of undress frolicking about on the forward deck. As I cruised by, I saw that two of the young women were absolutely naked and engaged in the sort of activity that ends up on videos you used to rent at adult bookstores. As I passed them, everyone on the boat waved, including the two girls doing the indescribable deed. Friendly folks.
I smiled and waved back. What else could I do—and they didn’t ask me for a beer, did they?
When I told this story the next day at the office, one of my employees enlightened me to the facts. Seems that he had bartended at a “gentleman’s club” for almost a year while he was attending college. “The money and tips were pretty good,” he explained. “And you couldn’t beat the scenery.”
“What happens,” he went on to tell me, “is that these rich guys will come into the club, get drunk and start tipping heavily. A lot of them own big boats they keep out on the lake and after a few drinks, they’ll invite some of the girls back to their boat with them after the club closes.”
I grew up in the middle of the sexual revolution when sex was as common as mosquito bites. When I became of age, a lot of my buddies started going to (rhymes with pity) bars. I went a couple of times but that was it. I have about as much use for those places as I do nosebleeds. Besides, it’s like feeding a starving dog a rubber bone.
Unless, apparently, you own a cabin-cruiser yacht.
Revolutions are wars and wars are best fought by people younger than myself. If what I’ve been seeing at the lake as of late is any indication, another sexual revolution could very well be headed our way. With any luck, however, this one will just be a minor skirmish.
And being the prude that I am, I believe I’ll just sit this one out.
Monday, March 21, 2011
What deadbeat parents leave behind
I was in a Walgreens the other day, standing behind someone returning some merchandise. Fairly painless because Walgreens will take back anything, anytime for any reason. If it costs them money, no problem--they just jack up prices for the rest of us honest consumers.
But the point of this post isn't to rag on Walgreens for their return policy.
The point is how come we can't do the same with deadbeat parents?
I was talking to my eighteen-year-old cousin, who in actuality is more like a niece to my wife and I. My paternal grandfather had eight brothers and sisters, spread out over a period of almost twenty-five years. That means for a lot of second and third cousins with some huge age variances.
Anyhow, my cousin was telling me about one of her best friends and how the girl's parents had formally disowned the child, and done so a long time ago, leaving the young lady to fend for herself, literally and figuratively. The young lady now, understandably, has some issues.
The crapper here is that the deadbeat parents who decided they didn't want to be parents way back when they disowned her, those parents will not be nor ever be held accountable for the problems their child is having.
Now, the young lady in question is not criminal--not even close. She isn't pregnant nor has she ever been. No drugs, no booze.
Just a frightened young woman dealing with the emotional minefield of why her own parents suddenly decided they didn't want her.
My question is why didn't the parents simply turn their daughter over to someone who WOULD want her and love her? I doubt the selfish sonsofbitches could answer that question. But I'd sure like to ask them. In person.
I'm a huge fan of adoption. I support it, and late last year, decided to get involved by doing more than simply writing a check and donating money here and there. I signed up to volunteer to be a mentor to some of these kids. To be a friend, a confidant, someone they could trust and count on.
In other words, someone who wouldn't disown them.
I know family courts are overworked. I know--because the training I had to take and am still taking tells me so--that a family court judge's primary goal is to keep the family united. In many respects, I can understand and accept that.
But when a sperm-donor and egg-recipient (aka: biological father and biological mother) formally disown their own child, and in her early teenage years, there is no longer any family to keep together.
Worse yet, the child feels responsible and carries the guilt.
As of December of last year, there were almost 13,000 kids under the age of eighteen awaiting adoption in Texas alone. Across the entire U.S., there are over 300,000 kids waiting on those magic words from their caseworker of "Good news! We have a family interested in adopting you."
"http://www.icareaboutorphans.org/WaitingKidsinYourState.aspx"
The overwhelming majority of these children are teenagers. Nobody wants teens. They come with baggage. They may never call you "mom" or "dad." They may have attitudes. They may be surly. They may have developmental problems and they may have emotional needs.
But that's what commitment is all about. Good with the bad. Having the patience to ride out storms. Having the courage and the sword to help these young people confront their emotional demons, then slay them.
And yet, many of those emotional needs are only listed as "mild," which in translation means the kids are just ordinary teenagers who are more than a little shaken up over having been in a bad home--with deadbeat parents--and are now in a foster home and wondering why nobody loves them.
That kind of situation would make any of us a little emotionally needy.
Look here: "http://tare.dfps.state.tx.us/search/ReportResults.jsp"
These are but just a smattering of the children here in Texas alone that are awaiting a forever family, a family that will love them rather than disown them.
If you search on a national scale, you'll find even more kids waiting on a forever family and home. "http://www.adoptuskids.org/Child/ChildSearchResults.aspx?pg=1"
This is what deadbeat parents leave behind, which is why I have two wishes:
1. I wish there were more than enough families and homes out there to give these beautiful kids the family and home they truly deserve, and
2. I wish we could put deadbeat parents in jail. We already do that, allegedly, to deadbeat dads--but that's only for not paying monetary child support. What about the deadbeat parents who abandon their kids because they simply no longer want them?
I wish I had an answer. I wish anyone had an answer.
Give these kids a shot at a brand new life. And remember: When you reach out and take a chance, these kids are taking a chance on you too.
But isn't that what love is really about? Love is what moves us to take chances with people. Faith is what ensures us it will work out.
Let's find good, loving, forever homes for these children.
Tweet
But the point of this post isn't to rag on Walgreens for their return policy.
The point is how come we can't do the same with deadbeat parents?
I was talking to my eighteen-year-old cousin, who in actuality is more like a niece to my wife and I. My paternal grandfather had eight brothers and sisters, spread out over a period of almost twenty-five years. That means for a lot of second and third cousins with some huge age variances.
Anyhow, my cousin was telling me about one of her best friends and how the girl's parents had formally disowned the child, and done so a long time ago, leaving the young lady to fend for herself, literally and figuratively. The young lady now, understandably, has some issues.
The crapper here is that the deadbeat parents who decided they didn't want to be parents way back when they disowned her, those parents will not be nor ever be held accountable for the problems their child is having.
Now, the young lady in question is not criminal--not even close. She isn't pregnant nor has she ever been. No drugs, no booze.
Just a frightened young woman dealing with the emotional minefield of why her own parents suddenly decided they didn't want her.
My question is why didn't the parents simply turn their daughter over to someone who WOULD want her and love her? I doubt the selfish sonsofbitches could answer that question. But I'd sure like to ask them. In person.
I'm a huge fan of adoption. I support it, and late last year, decided to get involved by doing more than simply writing a check and donating money here and there. I signed up to volunteer to be a mentor to some of these kids. To be a friend, a confidant, someone they could trust and count on.
In other words, someone who wouldn't disown them.
I know family courts are overworked. I know--because the training I had to take and am still taking tells me so--that a family court judge's primary goal is to keep the family united. In many respects, I can understand and accept that.
But when a sperm-donor and egg-recipient (aka: biological father and biological mother) formally disown their own child, and in her early teenage years, there is no longer any family to keep together.
Worse yet, the child feels responsible and carries the guilt.
As of December of last year, there were almost 13,000 kids under the age of eighteen awaiting adoption in Texas alone. Across the entire U.S., there are over 300,000 kids waiting on those magic words from their caseworker of "Good news! We have a family interested in adopting you."
"http://www.icareaboutorphans.org/WaitingKidsinYourState.aspx"
The overwhelming majority of these children are teenagers. Nobody wants teens. They come with baggage. They may never call you "mom" or "dad." They may have attitudes. They may be surly. They may have developmental problems and they may have emotional needs.
But that's what commitment is all about. Good with the bad. Having the patience to ride out storms. Having the courage and the sword to help these young people confront their emotional demons, then slay them.
And yet, many of those emotional needs are only listed as "mild," which in translation means the kids are just ordinary teenagers who are more than a little shaken up over having been in a bad home--with deadbeat parents--and are now in a foster home and wondering why nobody loves them.
That kind of situation would make any of us a little emotionally needy.
Look here: "http://tare.dfps.state.tx.us/search/ReportResults.jsp"
These are but just a smattering of the children here in Texas alone that are awaiting a forever family, a family that will love them rather than disown them.
If you search on a national scale, you'll find even more kids waiting on a forever family and home. "http://www.adoptuskids.org/Child/ChildSearchResults.aspx?pg=1"
This is what deadbeat parents leave behind, which is why I have two wishes:
1. I wish there were more than enough families and homes out there to give these beautiful kids the family and home they truly deserve, and
2. I wish we could put deadbeat parents in jail. We already do that, allegedly, to deadbeat dads--but that's only for not paying monetary child support. What about the deadbeat parents who abandon their kids because they simply no longer want them?
I wish I had an answer. I wish anyone had an answer.
Give these kids a shot at a brand new life. And remember: When you reach out and take a chance, these kids are taking a chance on you too.
But isn't that what love is really about? Love is what moves us to take chances with people. Faith is what ensures us it will work out.
Let's find good, loving, forever homes for these children.
Tweet
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Learn English, become a citizen, or get the hell out of here
I waited in line at my pharmacy today for an additional twenty minutes. I waited because the asshole in front of me no speakee English.
Unfortunately, there wasn't anyone who spoke Hindu or Indian or whatever the hell it is they speak in Bangladesh or Burma or wherever this buttwipe was from.
So everyone who COULD speak English waited behind this SOB while he kept asking questions that no one could answer. And get this--the longer WE waited, the madder HE got.
Finally, his daughter or one of his harem of wives or sister or friend-with-benefits or whoever she was came in--and she translated for him. And then she had the brass ovaries to lecture US about being more patient and understanding with people who weren't natives here.
A woman--an American woman, I presume--asked this lady how long the man, who could no speakee English, had been living in the U.S.
The man, who looked to be in his late forties, but could've been fifteen or ninety-five for I could tell, or care, had been living here in the United States for over a decade.
Over a decade! And the sonofabitch still couldn't--or wouldn't--learn or speak even the simplest of sentences.
Get the (f-bomb) out of my country, asshole.
I am sick to death of "permanent immigrants" who take all we have to offer in the U.S., but have no intention of becoming citizens.
Get the hell out of here.
I was in an older north Dallas suburb the other day and stopped in a Kroger grocery store. I thought I was in a third world banana republic. I kept looking for American looking faces and American sounding people, but all I heard was a mix of Spanish, Asian, Hindu--or whatever the hell it is they speak--and a whole slew of other languages that I didn't recognize.
Thank God the cashier, an American (because I asked) could speak English. If she couldn't, I had every intention of throwing my stuff on the floor and walking out.
Now, I figure I'm going to be called a xenophobe and homophobe and India-phobe and every other kind of phobe by the liberal faction, so I'll just say it to those who wish to throw our borders wide open and keep them that way:
Kiss my phobic ass.
We have Mexicans living here, but not citizens, working and sending the bulk of their money back home to Mexico. Suggestion? Follow your money home--and stay there with your money. Do not come back. We have prisoners that can pick lettuce and it's high time our errant citizens who are incarcerated began earning their way.
We have Indians running out our ears living here, but who refuse to become citizens, working and sending their money and every damned thing they can buy free with a coupon back home to New Delhi or Calcutta or wherever. Suggestion? Follow your money and merchandise home. Use your American Express Card to pay for the trip back, then put in an application with the American Express call centers that now reside in your country.
Which is a huge reason why American Express is about as welcome in our house as Jane Fonda or Michael Moore.
Asians? I kind of have a soft spot for most Asians. They are without a doubt, some of the hardest working and most honest people I have ever met. But again, if all you want to do is take a free ride here, haul ass. Go home. Fix your own country, make it livable, then stay there.
How come we don't have Czechs and Poles in the massive numbers that we do Indians and Mexicans here? Both the Czech Republic and Poland used to be hardcore communist countries under the iron grip of the Iron Curtain regime within the Warsaw Pact.
When communism was exposed for the sham it is and everyone in the world, except for Barack Obama and California, realized it was a sham, formerly communist countries started adapting and changing and doing pretty well for themselves.
Why the hell can't India and Mexico, and to a lesser extent, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam do the same thing? Taiwan? No problem. Probably the best economic partner we have. Red China? Screw you. Quit sending your commies over here to steal and pilfer every trade secret and patent they can.
In fact, why the hell do we even give visas to citizens from communist countries in the first place?
I'm sick of our open borders. I'm sick of the entire world taking advantage of our generosity, and then shitting on us every chance it gets. To hell with the rest of the world. Screw you. Try living without us for a year or two.
I'm not a total isolationist. I favor maintaining strong friendships and relationships with Australia & New Zealand (the Down Under gang), Great Britain, Israel, Poland, Czech Republic, Japan, Taiwan, South Africa, the western half of Canada--and Switzerland.
To hell with everyone else. No more foreign aid. Tsunami hits India? Too bad, we don't speak the language and you don't speak ours. Nothing we can do. Earthquake in Mexico City? Tough tortillas, amigos. Take a few days off from printing your comic books teaching your people how to illegally cross our borders and then qualify for our welfare and food stamps. . . and take care of your own mess--or leave it for the cartels to fix. Don't care how you do it, we ain't doing it.
No more indefinite I-9 cards (Green Cards). One year. That's it. Student visas? Have to be renewed every six months. No exceptions. None. And if you don't renew it, fail to renew it, or refuse to renew it and we catch you, one year in prison, then deportation.
If you're working for a foreign company who has offices on U.S. soil and sending money back to your home country, then that money should incur an additional tax. Don't like that? Then don't come here.
No speakee English? Tough doo-doo. We ain't translating. No reason our ballots should be in multiple languages. After all, our money isn't and the foreigners don't seem to have any problems understanding THAT.
You know the saying, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." Well, when in America, do as the Americans do--or get the hell out of America.
Tweet
Unfortunately, there wasn't anyone who spoke Hindu or Indian or whatever the hell it is they speak in Bangladesh or Burma or wherever this buttwipe was from.
So everyone who COULD speak English waited behind this SOB while he kept asking questions that no one could answer. And get this--the longer WE waited, the madder HE got.
Finally, his daughter or one of his harem of wives or sister or friend-with-benefits or whoever she was came in--and she translated for him. And then she had the brass ovaries to lecture US about being more patient and understanding with people who weren't natives here.
A woman--an American woman, I presume--asked this lady how long the man, who could no speakee English, had been living in the U.S.
The man, who looked to be in his late forties, but could've been fifteen or ninety-five for I could tell, or care, had been living here in the United States for over a decade.
Over a decade! And the sonofabitch still couldn't--or wouldn't--learn or speak even the simplest of sentences.
Get the (f-bomb) out of my country, asshole.
I am sick to death of "permanent immigrants" who take all we have to offer in the U.S., but have no intention of becoming citizens.
Get the hell out of here.
I was in an older north Dallas suburb the other day and stopped in a Kroger grocery store. I thought I was in a third world banana republic. I kept looking for American looking faces and American sounding people, but all I heard was a mix of Spanish, Asian, Hindu--or whatever the hell it is they speak--and a whole slew of other languages that I didn't recognize.
Thank God the cashier, an American (because I asked) could speak English. If she couldn't, I had every intention of throwing my stuff on the floor and walking out.
Now, I figure I'm going to be called a xenophobe and homophobe and India-phobe and every other kind of phobe by the liberal faction, so I'll just say it to those who wish to throw our borders wide open and keep them that way:
Kiss my phobic ass.
We have Mexicans living here, but not citizens, working and sending the bulk of their money back home to Mexico. Suggestion? Follow your money home--and stay there with your money. Do not come back. We have prisoners that can pick lettuce and it's high time our errant citizens who are incarcerated began earning their way.
We have Indians running out our ears living here, but who refuse to become citizens, working and sending their money and every damned thing they can buy free with a coupon back home to New Delhi or Calcutta or wherever. Suggestion? Follow your money and merchandise home. Use your American Express Card to pay for the trip back, then put in an application with the American Express call centers that now reside in your country.
Which is a huge reason why American Express is about as welcome in our house as Jane Fonda or Michael Moore.
Asians? I kind of have a soft spot for most Asians. They are without a doubt, some of the hardest working and most honest people I have ever met. But again, if all you want to do is take a free ride here, haul ass. Go home. Fix your own country, make it livable, then stay there.
How come we don't have Czechs and Poles in the massive numbers that we do Indians and Mexicans here? Both the Czech Republic and Poland used to be hardcore communist countries under the iron grip of the Iron Curtain regime within the Warsaw Pact.
When communism was exposed for the sham it is and everyone in the world, except for Barack Obama and California, realized it was a sham, formerly communist countries started adapting and changing and doing pretty well for themselves.
Why the hell can't India and Mexico, and to a lesser extent, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam do the same thing? Taiwan? No problem. Probably the best economic partner we have. Red China? Screw you. Quit sending your commies over here to steal and pilfer every trade secret and patent they can.
In fact, why the hell do we even give visas to citizens from communist countries in the first place?
I'm sick of our open borders. I'm sick of the entire world taking advantage of our generosity, and then shitting on us every chance it gets. To hell with the rest of the world. Screw you. Try living without us for a year or two.
I'm not a total isolationist. I favor maintaining strong friendships and relationships with Australia & New Zealand (the Down Under gang), Great Britain, Israel, Poland, Czech Republic, Japan, Taiwan, South Africa, the western half of Canada--and Switzerland.
To hell with everyone else. No more foreign aid. Tsunami hits India? Too bad, we don't speak the language and you don't speak ours. Nothing we can do. Earthquake in Mexico City? Tough tortillas, amigos. Take a few days off from printing your comic books teaching your people how to illegally cross our borders and then qualify for our welfare and food stamps. . . and take care of your own mess--or leave it for the cartels to fix. Don't care how you do it, we ain't doing it.
No more indefinite I-9 cards (Green Cards). One year. That's it. Student visas? Have to be renewed every six months. No exceptions. None. And if you don't renew it, fail to renew it, or refuse to renew it and we catch you, one year in prison, then deportation.
If you're working for a foreign company who has offices on U.S. soil and sending money back to your home country, then that money should incur an additional tax. Don't like that? Then don't come here.
No speakee English? Tough doo-doo. We ain't translating. No reason our ballots should be in multiple languages. After all, our money isn't and the foreigners don't seem to have any problems understanding THAT.
You know the saying, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." Well, when in America, do as the Americans do--or get the hell out of America.
Tweet
Friday, March 18, 2011
Wall Street: Worshiping at the altar of a false god
The Money Worshiper’s Prayer:
If you think this is blasphemous, sorry, because the way many people in this country worship money. . .
Think about it. We love money. We can’t get enough of it. We kill ourselves working for it. We dream about it. We salivate over the thought of being a gazillionaire. Millions upon millions of people used to journey to Las Vegas and Atlantic City every year fantasizing about “hitting the jackpot” and coming home richer than the U.S. Treasury. Now you don’t have to travel to Vegas because there’s a riverboat casino on virtually every river in America. If you don’t have instant access to a casino, have no fear the lottery is here. If vice gambling isn’t your thing, no problem. Try day-trading. Via the internet, you can lose more money than the Obama administration and just as fast.
Which brings us full circle back to investing and Wall Street.
As I write this, Wall Street is looking like Pearl Harbor on that fateful day back in December of 1941. Yet, the only panic, wailing and gnashing of teeth that I’m hearing is coming from the Money Worshippers. I mentioned this to the fellow who runs the feed mill where I buy my dog food and fertilizer as I wrote him a check for some dog food. “What do you think about Wall Street?” I asked him.
“Wall Street?” he asked.
“Yes sir,” I replied.
“I don’t think about it at all. I’m not stupid enough to send any of my money up there.”
I thought about that. Here is a man who owns and runs his own business and is making a good living doing so. The business is paid off, as is his home. The kids are educated and he has no debt. He knows all of his regular customers by face, and most by name. He’s happy with his lot in life. That’s wealth in my book. Real wealth.
So long as we allow our economy to go as Wall Street goes, we are going to lose. After all, Wall Street should reflect our economy, not dictate it.
During the latter part of my career years, I got caught up in investing here and investing there and following the market. I was making money, lots of it. I also quit going to church, quit trading at feed mills and other family-owned businesses, and when we ate out, it was always at some chain-name restaurant who also happened to have a listing on Wall Street. My blood pressure and stress levels were in a daily race to see which could reach stroke-level first. I measured my happiness and success by my paycheck and by how well I was doing compared to everyone else in my business. And I was doing pretty damned well.
Except that while I was very successful, I wasn't very happy.
No wonder they call it the rat race. The only people I see winning it are just bigger and faster rats. I was just becoming another big, fat rat. And I didn't like it.
Funny thing about rats is that they will also eat their own. One Fortune 100 company announced significant layoffs. Money was non-existent and they couldn’t afford to keep thousands of employees around, so thousands of employees suddenly found themselves on the street with no jobs and only a measly four-week severance package.
Yet the CEO of that same company was paid $55 million that year--as part of his severance package. And yet the Money Worshipers continued to buy stock as fast as they could in that company.
I can’t print what I think about that.
If you want to invest in America, invest in your hometown and its local businesses. The small businessman built America and ensures that this great nation continues to run today. Invest in your schools and your churches. Invest in your neighborhood parks and playgrounds. Sponsor a Little League baseball or soccer team.
In other words, invest in your immediate quality of life. Because there’s nothing false about that.
“Our stock broker, who art on Wall Street, hallowed be thy name. Thy market come, thy investment will be done, on earth as it is on The Street. Give us this stock our daily profit. Forgive our losses, as we bankrupt those who trust us. And lead us not into bear markets, but deliver us from the SEC. For thine is the Nasdaq, the Dow and the S&P forever. Amen.”
If you think this is blasphemous, sorry, because the way many people in this country worship money. . .
Think about it. We love money. We can’t get enough of it. We kill ourselves working for it. We dream about it. We salivate over the thought of being a gazillionaire. Millions upon millions of people used to journey to Las Vegas and Atlantic City every year fantasizing about “hitting the jackpot” and coming home richer than the U.S. Treasury. Now you don’t have to travel to Vegas because there’s a riverboat casino on virtually every river in America. If you don’t have instant access to a casino, have no fear the lottery is here. If vice gambling isn’t your thing, no problem. Try day-trading. Via the internet, you can lose more money than the Obama administration and just as fast.
Which brings us full circle back to investing and Wall Street.
As I write this, Wall Street is looking like Pearl Harbor on that fateful day back in December of 1941. Yet, the only panic, wailing and gnashing of teeth that I’m hearing is coming from the Money Worshippers. I mentioned this to the fellow who runs the feed mill where I buy my dog food and fertilizer as I wrote him a check for some dog food. “What do you think about Wall Street?” I asked him.
“Wall Street?” he asked.
“Yes sir,” I replied.
“I don’t think about it at all. I’m not stupid enough to send any of my money up there.”
I thought about that. Here is a man who owns and runs his own business and is making a good living doing so. The business is paid off, as is his home. The kids are educated and he has no debt. He knows all of his regular customers by face, and most by name. He’s happy with his lot in life. That’s wealth in my book. Real wealth.
So long as we allow our economy to go as Wall Street goes, we are going to lose. After all, Wall Street should reflect our economy, not dictate it.
During the latter part of my career years, I got caught up in investing here and investing there and following the market. I was making money, lots of it. I also quit going to church, quit trading at feed mills and other family-owned businesses, and when we ate out, it was always at some chain-name restaurant who also happened to have a listing on Wall Street. My blood pressure and stress levels were in a daily race to see which could reach stroke-level first. I measured my happiness and success by my paycheck and by how well I was doing compared to everyone else in my business. And I was doing pretty damned well.
Except that while I was very successful, I wasn't very happy.
No wonder they call it the rat race. The only people I see winning it are just bigger and faster rats. I was just becoming another big, fat rat. And I didn't like it.
Funny thing about rats is that they will also eat their own. One Fortune 100 company announced significant layoffs. Money was non-existent and they couldn’t afford to keep thousands of employees around, so thousands of employees suddenly found themselves on the street with no jobs and only a measly four-week severance package.
Yet the CEO of that same company was paid $55 million that year--as part of his severance package. And yet the Money Worshipers continued to buy stock as fast as they could in that company.
I can’t print what I think about that.
If you want to invest in America, invest in your hometown and its local businesses. The small businessman built America and ensures that this great nation continues to run today. Invest in your schools and your churches. Invest in your neighborhood parks and playgrounds. Sponsor a Little League baseball or soccer team.
In other words, invest in your immediate quality of life. Because there’s nothing false about that.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
The NRA's letter to Obama
I'm still trying to figure out where this bozo and disgrace of a president supposedly learned constitutional law--and allegedly taught it--to be so inept and utterly clueless as to what it is. . .
Maybe in those Indonesian muslim schools he attended as a child?
Maybe in those Indonesian muslim schools he attended as a child?
National Rifle Association of America
11250 Waples Mill Road
Fairfax, VA 22030
nra
March 14, 2011
President Barack Obama
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington, D.C. 20500
Dear Mr. President:
We read your editorial submission to the Arizona Star. However, to focus a national dialogue on guns – and not criminals or mental health issues – misses the point entirely. Americans are not afraid of gun ownership. To the contrary, they overwhelmingly support the fundamental, individual right to keep and bear arms. The primary reason why tens of millions of Americans own firearms is that they fear violent criminals roaming the streets undeterred.
We agree with your assertion that "Americans by and large rightly refrained from finger-pointing" in light of the shooting in Tucson . In truth, the professional corps of gun control lobbyists moved with lightning speed to exploit the tragedy. These included the Violence Policy Center ("In the wake of these kind of incidents, the trick is to move quickly"), the Brady Campaign ("Gabrielle Giffords Shooting 'Inevitable'") and Mayors Against Illegal Guns-MAIG ("Bloomberg, Mayors Outline Steps to Help Prevent Another Tucson Shooting"). Your article contains talking points nearly identical to the ones circulated by MAIG for weeks in pursuit of its longstanding gun control agenda. In contrast, it was the National Rifle Association that avoided "playing politics with other people's pain" with our consistent response that only thoughts and prayers for the victims and their families were appropriate in the immediate aftermath.
We also agree with your statement that the Second Amendment guarantees an individual right to bear arms. Your record as a public official, however, is anything but supportive of the rights of law-abiding gun owners. In fact, when Congress had an opportunity to voice its support for the basic right of lawful Americans to own firearms, you refused to join a bipartisan majority of more than 300 of your colleagues in signing the congressional amicus brief to the Supreme Court in District of Columbia v. Heller. In addition, you previously stated (and have never retracted) your support for both Washington , D.C. 's and Chicago's handgun and self-defense bans that the Court rightfully struck down in Heller and McDonald v. Chicago. Further, you surrounded yourself with advisors who have advocated against the Second Amendment for years (Eric Holder, Hillary Clinton and Rahm Emanuel, to name just a few) and you nominated Sonia Sotomayor and Elena Kagan to the U.S. Supreme Court, one of whom has already attempted to eliminate the Second Amendment right entirely. More recently, you selected Andrew Traver to head the BATFE, despite his long-standing association with groups that support onerous new restrictions on our rights.
If you do in fact believe the Second Amendment guarantees an individual right, we suggest you demonstrate that in your policies and those of your Administration, which you have not done to date. Simply saying that you support the right to keep and bear arms is mere lip service if not put into action.
The government owes its citizens its most vigorous efforts to enforce penalties against those who violate our existing laws. The NRA has members proudly serving in law enforcement agencies at every level. Rank and file law enforcement want to arrest bad people – not harass law-abiding gun owners and retailers.
As for enforcing the laws on the books, we strongly suggest you enforce those that actually take violent criminals off the streets. To start, we urge you to contact every U.S. Attorney and ask them to bring at least ten cases per month against drug dealers, gang members and other violent felons caught illegally possessing firearms. By prosecuting these criminals in federal court – rather than state court – strong sentencing guidelines would apply and charges would not be plea-bargained or dismissed, nor would criminals be released after serving only a fraction of their sentences. This simple directive would result in roughly 12,000 violent criminals being taken off the streets every year. Surely you agree that this would be a good first step.
Unfortunately, your Administration is currently under a cloud for allegedly encouraging violations of federal law. We suggest that you bring an immediate stop to BATFE's "Fast and Furious" operation, in which an unknown number of illegal firearm transactions were detected – and then encouraged to fruition by your BATFE, which allegedly decided to let thousands of firearms "walk" across the border and into the hands of murderous drug cartels. One federal officer has recently been killed and no one can predict what mayhem will still ensue. Despite the protests of gun dealers who wished to terminate these transactions, your Administration reportedly encouraged violations of federal firearms laws – and undermined the firearm industry's concerted efforts to deter straw purchases through the "Don't Lie for the Other Guy" program. We hope you agree with our belief that this burgeoning scandal merits a full and independent investigation.
There are additional steps you can take to prevent tragic events such as the Tucson shooting from occurring in the future. One of these is to call on the national news media to refrain from giving deranged criminals minute-by-minute coverage of their heinous acts, which only serves to encourage copycat behavior. If media outlets won't show a fan running onto the field during a baseball game because they don't want to encourage that behavior by others – surely they can listen to law enforcement experts and refuse to air the photographs, video messages, or Facebook postings of madmen and murderers.
Another step is to encourage people to report red flags when they see them. In the case of Tucson , a man clearly bent on violence was not reported to the proper authorities by those who had good reason to believe he had serious mental problems. That's not a deficiency in our gun laws, it's a deficiency in our mental health system – and should be treated as such.
In closing, we agree that gun owners in America are highly responsible. This is in large part due to the NRA's 140 years of dedication to promoting safe and responsible gun ownership, an effort on which we take a back seat to no one. We welcome any serious discussion on policies that focus on prosecuting criminals and fixing deficiencies in the mental health system. Any proposals to the contrary are not a legitimate approach to the issue.
Sincerely,
Wayne LaPierre
Executive Vice President
National Rifle Association Chris W. Cox
Executive Director
NRA-ILA
Remembering a shoe-shine man
(This is a column I wrote several years ago in remembrance to a very special man. I still miss him to this day as he would always remind me what really mattered in life. God Bless you, Harry."
THE SHOE SHINE MAN
Every time I look down at my boots, I think of Harry. The first time I met Harry, I was looking at his face. He was looking at my boots.
I first met Harry back in late 1999. He was the shoe-shine man at the downtown office building where I used to work. He had his chairs and shoe-shine stand tucked away in the corner by the elevator bank I took up to my office; so I saw Harry every morning.
Harry was an artist with his polish and a percussionist with his rag. In the two years I knew him, I never saw a pair of shoes or boots leave his hands that didn’t look better than brand new.
Why is it that we look down at people who shine shoes for a living? In all my years of working with overpaid and over pampered advertising and marketing executives, I never saw so much sloppy work, excuse-making and childish whining in my life. If an ad campaign failed, it was always someone else's fault. If the client didn’t like a layout, it was the creatives’ fault. And so on and so on. This seems to be the trend in today’s office and business environment everywhere. Whine whine whine. Blame blame blame.
Hell, just look at the sorry excuse for a government we have.
But you know what’s funny about shoe-shine men? If their work is bad, there isn’t a single person or thing they can blame other than themselves. Maybe this is why every shoe-shine man I’ve ever met put more than just polish and a rag on my boots. They put pride in their work, and my boots always showed it. And when Harry put pride into making my boots shine, those boots never looked better.
Harry was also a bit of a local celebrity. He was a blues singer who had been singing in smoky old juke joints for decades. The Fort Worth newspaper even did a big write-up on Harry, his blues-singing and shoe-shining and it made the front page of the Living Section. I had never seen Harry prouder. Here he was, pushing 80 years-old and had his face all over the newspaper. In color even.
The only time I ever saw Harry’s face light up even brighter was when he’d talk about fishing. Lord, how that man loved to fish. I liked to fish as well, and I can’t count the number of times Harry and I would talk about him and I taking my boat out and doing some fishing. Harry had a small boat, but it often wouldn’t run. That didn’t bother Harry a bit; he could fish off the shore or off the dock just as well. He loved fishing for crappie and catfish.
But Harry and I never got to go fishing. I was working too many hours, and Harry got sick.
One day he didn’t show up at his shoe-shine stand. His wife had checked him into the VA hospital where they told him he had lung cancer. Surgery was performed and a large part of the problem lung was removed. None of us ever knew where Harry was. Every morning, I would walk up to the elevators hoping to see that Harry was back, but every morning he was still gone.
Then one morning shortly before Christmas, Harry was back. I grabbed a coke and sat down to get my boots shined. Harry told me where he’d been. We made plans to go fishing in the spring.
In the spring of that year, I had retired from the ad agency, and one morning I drove back downtown to my old office building. I had nothing but time on my hands and the water was warming up and the fish were biting. My boat was ready and raring to go, and I figured Harry and I could spend the rest of day just drowning one worm after another and passing time however we saw fit.
It was with a bounce in my step that I strode through the revolving doors and headed for Harry’s shoe-shine stand. But Harry wasn’t there. The security officer saw me and walked over to me. He told me that Harry had died. The cancer had come back and he was just too weak to fight it.
I haven’t felt much like fishing since.
THE SHOE SHINE MAN
Every time I look down at my boots, I think of Harry. The first time I met Harry, I was looking at his face. He was looking at my boots.
I first met Harry back in late 1999. He was the shoe-shine man at the downtown office building where I used to work. He had his chairs and shoe-shine stand tucked away in the corner by the elevator bank I took up to my office; so I saw Harry every morning.
Harry was an artist with his polish and a percussionist with his rag. In the two years I knew him, I never saw a pair of shoes or boots leave his hands that didn’t look better than brand new.
Why is it that we look down at people who shine shoes for a living? In all my years of working with overpaid and over pampered advertising and marketing executives, I never saw so much sloppy work, excuse-making and childish whining in my life. If an ad campaign failed, it was always someone else's fault. If the client didn’t like a layout, it was the creatives’ fault. And so on and so on. This seems to be the trend in today’s office and business environment everywhere. Whine whine whine. Blame blame blame.
Hell, just look at the sorry excuse for a government we have.
But you know what’s funny about shoe-shine men? If their work is bad, there isn’t a single person or thing they can blame other than themselves. Maybe this is why every shoe-shine man I’ve ever met put more than just polish and a rag on my boots. They put pride in their work, and my boots always showed it. And when Harry put pride into making my boots shine, those boots never looked better.
Harry was also a bit of a local celebrity. He was a blues singer who had been singing in smoky old juke joints for decades. The Fort Worth newspaper even did a big write-up on Harry, his blues-singing and shoe-shining and it made the front page of the Living Section. I had never seen Harry prouder. Here he was, pushing 80 years-old and had his face all over the newspaper. In color even.
The only time I ever saw Harry’s face light up even brighter was when he’d talk about fishing. Lord, how that man loved to fish. I liked to fish as well, and I can’t count the number of times Harry and I would talk about him and I taking my boat out and doing some fishing. Harry had a small boat, but it often wouldn’t run. That didn’t bother Harry a bit; he could fish off the shore or off the dock just as well. He loved fishing for crappie and catfish.
But Harry and I never got to go fishing. I was working too many hours, and Harry got sick.
One day he didn’t show up at his shoe-shine stand. His wife had checked him into the VA hospital where they told him he had lung cancer. Surgery was performed and a large part of the problem lung was removed. None of us ever knew where Harry was. Every morning, I would walk up to the elevators hoping to see that Harry was back, but every morning he was still gone.
Then one morning shortly before Christmas, Harry was back. I grabbed a coke and sat down to get my boots shined. Harry told me where he’d been. We made plans to go fishing in the spring.
In the spring of that year, I had retired from the ad agency, and one morning I drove back downtown to my old office building. I had nothing but time on my hands and the water was warming up and the fish were biting. My boat was ready and raring to go, and I figured Harry and I could spend the rest of day just drowning one worm after another and passing time however we saw fit.
It was with a bounce in my step that I strode through the revolving doors and headed for Harry’s shoe-shine stand. But Harry wasn’t there. The security officer saw me and walked over to me. He told me that Harry had died. The cancer had come back and he was just too weak to fight it.
I haven’t felt much like fishing since.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Throwing their sorry asses out of office
Last week, I blogged about Bell, California, getting fed up with their corrupt city council and recalling their butts right out of a job.
Yesterday, I read about the Denver city council voting themselves raises of almost seven percent. This comes at a time when the city is reeling from a $700 million dollar budget shortfall, and put simply, the money isn't there.
Naturally in American, our elected whores vote to take care of themselves first, the people who put them into office second.
Miami-Dade got fed up with this and threw Mayor Carlos Alvarez out on his ass.
"http://www.miamiherald.com/2011/03/15/2117129/9-of-10-say-yes-to-ousting-alvarez.html"
I've always looked at southern Florida as a banana republic and a third world country. Most of the time that's a good view to have--makes it cheaper than flying to Columbia or Bolivia to experience sweltering humidity and corrupt politicians.
But today, southern Florida surprises me. They stood up to the corruption and brava-sierra of Mayor Alvarez, got the signatures needed to do a recall, and recalled his lying, scheming, thieving ass right out of office.
Are you reading this, Mr. Obama?
Yesterday, I read about the Denver city council voting themselves raises of almost seven percent. This comes at a time when the city is reeling from a $700 million dollar budget shortfall, and put simply, the money isn't there.
Naturally in American, our elected whores vote to take care of themselves first, the people who put them into office second.
Miami-Dade got fed up with this and threw Mayor Carlos Alvarez out on his ass.
"http://www.miamiherald.com/2011/03/15/2117129/9-of-10-say-yes-to-ousting-alvarez.html"
I've always looked at southern Florida as a banana republic and a third world country. Most of the time that's a good view to have--makes it cheaper than flying to Columbia or Bolivia to experience sweltering humidity and corrupt politicians.
But today, southern Florida surprises me. They stood up to the corruption and brava-sierra of Mayor Alvarez, got the signatures needed to do a recall, and recalled his lying, scheming, thieving ass right out of office.
Are you reading this, Mr. Obama?
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
A $10 million dollar slave?
I've long been convinced that most professional athletes are dead from the neck up. Adrian Peterson of the Minnesota Vikings reinforces that belief.
As expected, the NFL owners and the NFL players both think they are being screwed by each other, so they headed to the collective bargaining table to see who could screw the other a little more.
What's missing from this story is that ultimately, it is the fan who is being screwed.
But Adrian Peterson doesn't see it that way. He thinks he, and his fellow NFL players are slaves.
Adrian Peterson, by the way, just signed a contract worth $10.7 million dollars.
"http://www.twincities.com/ci_17619356?nclick_check=1"
Adrian Peterson and his fellow NFL players play a school yard game, same as their buddies in the NBA and same as the boys who play major league baseball. Professional hockey players are paid to fight, which begs the question: Why don't we just put Evander Holyfield and Mike Tyson and some of those guys on skates and let 'em slug it out? No more silly rules about icing, whatever the hell that is, or being too far forward on the ice.
But I digress.
I remember a time when NFL players almost always took what were called "off-season" jobs. They worked those jobs, and when it was time to retire, they often went full-time to those off-season jobs.
I also remember a time when it was virtually unheard of for an NFL player to get arrested and go to jail. Today, we have Michael Vick going to prison, then coming out and being heralded as a hero for "enduring" his unfair prison sentence.
Wonder if Vick thinks he's a slave? His dogs damn sure were. Wouldn't surprise me one bit if he doesn't agree with Peterson. Solidarity, you know. Pacman Jones, Tank Johnson. . . how many NFL slaves, er, excuse me, players have been arrested or indicted or jailed or imprisoned in the past two decades?
Yet their salaries continue to skyrocket--for playing a schoolyard game. I'm trying to think back to my history classes. . . can't remember the slaves of old getting endorsements from ad agencies and advertisers for being the fast cotton-picker on the plantation. Likewise, trying to remember if any of the larger man slaves got signing bonuses when they exercised their free agency and got traded to another plantation.
Perhaps Adrian Peterson should stick to doing what he does best, and that is fumbling under pressure--because it looks like he just did it again, with his mouth this time rather than his hands.
As expected, the NFL owners and the NFL players both think they are being screwed by each other, so they headed to the collective bargaining table to see who could screw the other a little more.
What's missing from this story is that ultimately, it is the fan who is being screwed.
But Adrian Peterson doesn't see it that way. He thinks he, and his fellow NFL players are slaves.
Adrian Peterson, by the way, just signed a contract worth $10.7 million dollars.
"http://www.twincities.com/ci_17619356?nclick_check=1"
Adrian Peterson and his fellow NFL players play a school yard game, same as their buddies in the NBA and same as the boys who play major league baseball. Professional hockey players are paid to fight, which begs the question: Why don't we just put Evander Holyfield and Mike Tyson and some of those guys on skates and let 'em slug it out? No more silly rules about icing, whatever the hell that is, or being too far forward on the ice.
But I digress.
I remember a time when NFL players almost always took what were called "off-season" jobs. They worked those jobs, and when it was time to retire, they often went full-time to those off-season jobs.
I also remember a time when it was virtually unheard of for an NFL player to get arrested and go to jail. Today, we have Michael Vick going to prison, then coming out and being heralded as a hero for "enduring" his unfair prison sentence.
Wonder if Vick thinks he's a slave? His dogs damn sure were. Wouldn't surprise me one bit if he doesn't agree with Peterson. Solidarity, you know. Pacman Jones, Tank Johnson. . . how many NFL slaves, er, excuse me, players have been arrested or indicted or jailed or imprisoned in the past two decades?
Yet their salaries continue to skyrocket--for playing a schoolyard game. I'm trying to think back to my history classes. . . can't remember the slaves of old getting endorsements from ad agencies and advertisers for being the fast cotton-picker on the plantation. Likewise, trying to remember if any of the larger man slaves got signing bonuses when they exercised their free agency and got traded to another plantation.
Perhaps Adrian Peterson should stick to doing what he does best, and that is fumbling under pressure--because it looks like he just did it again, with his mouth this time rather than his hands.
Black people are too stupid to be cops
Dayton, Ohio's police entrance exams already required dismally low scores just to qualify for an academy appointment.
Thanks to our government, namely Eric Holder's idiotic Department of Justice, those dismally low scoring requirements just got lower.
In fact, a failing grade--an "F"--is all that is required.
This is all part of a move ordered by the DOJ so that more blacks can apply, be accepted, and become gun-toting, powers-of-arrest, crime-scene investigating police officers.
The message from Eric Holder's DOJ?
That blacks are obviously too stupid, at least in Dayton, Ohio, to get a job as a cop on their own.
If I were black, I'd be pissed off. Royally. In fact, I'm not black and I'm pissed off. Royally. Everytime we try to move beyond race in this country, it's some racist national figure or elected official that keep dragging us back.
In chains.
Only the chains these imbecilic hypocrites use today aren't made of steel--they're made of paper and ink and are known as laws. But the net result is the same: One group gets diminished and further stereotyped and they have no control over it.
Check out this story, and pay very close attention to what the Dayton NAACP president says.
"http://abc.daytonsnewssource.com/shared/newsroom/top_stories/videos/wkef_vid_6103.shtml"
I'd like to buy Derrick Forward the adult beverage of his choice.
In case you didn't click on the link, this is what Mr. Forward said, and I quote:
I find it ironic that the NAACP gets it, and our own numbskulls at the Department of Justice don't.
I talked to a couple of my black friends this evening about this story. One of them is a cop. He was pissed off. Royally. "You know?" he told me. "I spent eight years in the Army, a lot of it over in Iraq in the early days. I come home, used my GI bill to finish college, then applied to the police academy. I made it on my own. High scores, man. I didn't need affirmative action or reduced test scores. If I did, I didn't have any business being a cop."
Damn straight.
My other friend put it more succinctly. "This is the kind of shit," he fumed, "that sets black people back, not forward. When our own people are telling the world that we're stupid and can't do anything on our own, how the (expletive deleted) hell are we supposed to advance on our own?"
A cop only knows two colors: Blue, for the uniform and commitment and loyalty it represents, and red, the color of the blood that cops sometimes bleed in defense of their neighborhood, city, state and nation.
Our government is telling cops that the only color that matters is black. By lowering the test scores, the Department of Justice is telling us that being a smart cop, a qualified cop. . . that isn't important.
What's important is to be a black cop first, and a qualified cop second.
Only some stupid-ass appointed by the Chief Stupid Ass himself, Barack Obama, could run a bureaucracy this utterly out of touch with the real world.
I'd write more, but I need to call up all my black friends and tell them how stupid they are, but to not fret--they have a golden career opportunity in either Dayton with the police department, or in Washington with the Department of Justice. I'll have to be careful, though, as many of them are already cops. Some are career military men with one being a graduate of the U.S. Air Force Academy, some are even attorneys even though I try very hard not to call any lawyer "friend" unless I'm standing in front of an angry judge.
I reckon I'm more disappointed than anything. Here I've been foolishly thinking that all my black friends were just as smart as me, and now the Justice Department tells me it isn't so.
Wonder how my Latino friends will take the news?
Thanks to our government, namely Eric Holder's idiotic Department of Justice, those dismally low scoring requirements just got lower.
In fact, a failing grade--an "F"--is all that is required.
This is all part of a move ordered by the DOJ so that more blacks can apply, be accepted, and become gun-toting, powers-of-arrest, crime-scene investigating police officers.
The message from Eric Holder's DOJ?
That blacks are obviously too stupid, at least in Dayton, Ohio, to get a job as a cop on their own.
If I were black, I'd be pissed off. Royally. In fact, I'm not black and I'm pissed off. Royally. Everytime we try to move beyond race in this country, it's some racist national figure or elected official that keep dragging us back.
In chains.
Only the chains these imbecilic hypocrites use today aren't made of steel--they're made of paper and ink and are known as laws. But the net result is the same: One group gets diminished and further stereotyped and they have no control over it.
Check out this story, and pay very close attention to what the Dayton NAACP president says.
"http://abc.daytonsnewssource.com/shared/newsroom/top_stories/videos/wkef_vid_6103.shtml"
I'd like to buy Derrick Forward the adult beverage of his choice.
In case you didn't click on the link, this is what Mr. Forward said, and I quote:
"The NAACP does not support individuals failing a test and then having the opportunity to be gainfully employed. If you lower the score for any group of people, you're not getting the best qualified people for the job."
I find it ironic that the NAACP gets it, and our own numbskulls at the Department of Justice don't.
I talked to a couple of my black friends this evening about this story. One of them is a cop. He was pissed off. Royally. "You know?" he told me. "I spent eight years in the Army, a lot of it over in Iraq in the early days. I come home, used my GI bill to finish college, then applied to the police academy. I made it on my own. High scores, man. I didn't need affirmative action or reduced test scores. If I did, I didn't have any business being a cop."
Damn straight.
My other friend put it more succinctly. "This is the kind of shit," he fumed, "that sets black people back, not forward. When our own people are telling the world that we're stupid and can't do anything on our own, how the (expletive deleted) hell are we supposed to advance on our own?"
A cop only knows two colors: Blue, for the uniform and commitment and loyalty it represents, and red, the color of the blood that cops sometimes bleed in defense of their neighborhood, city, state and nation.
Our government is telling cops that the only color that matters is black. By lowering the test scores, the Department of Justice is telling us that being a smart cop, a qualified cop. . . that isn't important.
What's important is to be a black cop first, and a qualified cop second.
Only some stupid-ass appointed by the Chief Stupid Ass himself, Barack Obama, could run a bureaucracy this utterly out of touch with the real world.
I'd write more, but I need to call up all my black friends and tell them how stupid they are, but to not fret--they have a golden career opportunity in either Dayton with the police department, or in Washington with the Department of Justice. I'll have to be careful, though, as many of them are already cops. Some are career military men with one being a graduate of the U.S. Air Force Academy, some are even attorneys even though I try very hard not to call any lawyer "friend" unless I'm standing in front of an angry judge.
I reckon I'm more disappointed than anything. Here I've been foolishly thinking that all my black friends were just as smart as me, and now the Justice Department tells me it isn't so.
Wonder how my Latino friends will take the news?
Monday, March 14, 2011
Vacationing overseas. Things to consider
It's spring break here in Texas, and a lot of folks are taking to the airways in the sky to vacation overseas. Not me. Military and government broke me of any lingering desires to venture abroad. But for those of you who still seek to explore the world, read on. Maybe I can save you a lot grief.
A friend of mine recently came back from taking his family overseas on vacation. They went somewhere in Europe. He told me that the only place his kids wanted to eat was McDonalds.
With a McDonalds on every street corner here in America, why go to Brussels for a Big Mac?
The more I thought about that, the more I wondered why anyone would want to venture overseas for vacation. So I pulled out my old college atlas and began looking around the globe trying to see if there was any place foreign to America that would interest me during these times.
Mexico? Forget it. Drink anything that doesn’t come out of a bottle there and Senor Montezuma will find his way into your intestinal tract and the rest of your vacation is then spent running from one outhouse to another. Indoor plumbing can be rare in Mexico and is often reserved only for drug cartel chieftains and Mexican federales, which often times can be one and the same.
Speaking of bottles in Mexico, you have to be very careful even then. Mexican tequila comes in a bottle, and their tequila has little worms in the bottom. The worms are dead, and that should tell you something right there. They probably died of Montezuma’s Revenge.
Even more disturbing is the fact that our Texas Department of Public Safety has officially warned Texas citizens that it is not safe, nor recommended that you travel to Mexico. The drug cartels are killing people faster than the Super Computers can count.
But why travel to Mexico? Just travel to any mid to large size city, journey to the underbelly where the illegal aliens huddle together, and there you'll have a firsthand look at what our deadbeat neighbor to the south has to offer.
You won't need a passport to do this, but you might need police protection.
Traveling to South America is risky as well, and for a couple of reasons. One is that they do the Tango in parts of South America and if you’re not in Olympic-class physical shape before attempting to dance the Tango, you could spend all of your vacation cash reserves at the local chiropractor’s office. Secondly, a drug cartel might swap the powdered creamer for your coffee with something a little more lively. You’ll be able to do a great Tango, but it will be in a Columbian prison.
If you happened to have voted for Obama, stop by Venezuela and check things out. Then stay there.
If it's danger you're trying to avoid, then that will also rule out vacationing anywhere in the Middle East. Car bombs and suicide bombers notwithstanding, it’s also hard to find a place where you can knock back the dust of the desert with a cold beer. And if you pick up some goat-kabobs as a snack for you and the kids and accidentally shortchange the vendor, it could cost you an arm. Literally.
So moving right along to Europe, let’s say you want to see some ancient ruins. Check out downtown Detroit instead. If experiencing the Autobahn is more to your liking, rent a Dodge Viper and head to North Carolina, then get on Interstate 95 north and fly all the way into Washington D.C. That German highway can’t hold a candle to some of our very own interstates when it comes to insane drivers.
Looking for smelly and crowded subways like those found in Moscow, London and Paris? You can find those in New York City and you don’t even need a passport.
Maybe you were thinking of taking a trip down under. Forget it. My wife and I used to watch the Crocodile Hunter all the time and it seems like everything that can kill you a hundred times over is found in Australia. They have giant crocodiles in every stretch of water and man-eating sharks that cruise up and down the beaches. If that weren’t enough, they have snakes that can kill you just by reputation alone and huge, ugly spiders that kill you and then eat you. What kind of vacation is that?
China? You can have that too. I saw a Richard Gere movie where he got in deep doo-doo for something he supposedly said or did there. Besides, if you want to visit a communist state, there’s always California.
On second thought, you might find a little more freedom and better cost of living in China.
Basically, the only reason that is left to venture overseas would be for the food, and that problem is easily solved as well. Right here in America we have every ethnic and cultural style of food imaginable and you don’t have to get to the restaurant by airliner. Plus, you can drink the water without having to worry about doing the Tango on the way to a Mexican drug cartel chieftain's personal outhouse.
Vacationing overseas? You can have it. But if you insist, just remember to make sure all your insurance policies are up to date and in good order.
And don’t forget to pack lots of extra toilet paper.
Tweet
A friend of mine recently came back from taking his family overseas on vacation. They went somewhere in Europe. He told me that the only place his kids wanted to eat was McDonalds.
With a McDonalds on every street corner here in America, why go to Brussels for a Big Mac?
The more I thought about that, the more I wondered why anyone would want to venture overseas for vacation. So I pulled out my old college atlas and began looking around the globe trying to see if there was any place foreign to America that would interest me during these times.
Mexico? Forget it. Drink anything that doesn’t come out of a bottle there and Senor Montezuma will find his way into your intestinal tract and the rest of your vacation is then spent running from one outhouse to another. Indoor plumbing can be rare in Mexico and is often reserved only for drug cartel chieftains and Mexican federales, which often times can be one and the same.
Speaking of bottles in Mexico, you have to be very careful even then. Mexican tequila comes in a bottle, and their tequila has little worms in the bottom. The worms are dead, and that should tell you something right there. They probably died of Montezuma’s Revenge.
Even more disturbing is the fact that our Texas Department of Public Safety has officially warned Texas citizens that it is not safe, nor recommended that you travel to Mexico. The drug cartels are killing people faster than the Super Computers can count.
But why travel to Mexico? Just travel to any mid to large size city, journey to the underbelly where the illegal aliens huddle together, and there you'll have a firsthand look at what our deadbeat neighbor to the south has to offer.
You won't need a passport to do this, but you might need police protection.
Traveling to South America is risky as well, and for a couple of reasons. One is that they do the Tango in parts of South America and if you’re not in Olympic-class physical shape before attempting to dance the Tango, you could spend all of your vacation cash reserves at the local chiropractor’s office. Secondly, a drug cartel might swap the powdered creamer for your coffee with something a little more lively. You’ll be able to do a great Tango, but it will be in a Columbian prison.
If you happened to have voted for Obama, stop by Venezuela and check things out. Then stay there.
If it's danger you're trying to avoid, then that will also rule out vacationing anywhere in the Middle East. Car bombs and suicide bombers notwithstanding, it’s also hard to find a place where you can knock back the dust of the desert with a cold beer. And if you pick up some goat-kabobs as a snack for you and the kids and accidentally shortchange the vendor, it could cost you an arm. Literally.
So moving right along to Europe, let’s say you want to see some ancient ruins. Check out downtown Detroit instead. If experiencing the Autobahn is more to your liking, rent a Dodge Viper and head to North Carolina, then get on Interstate 95 north and fly all the way into Washington D.C. That German highway can’t hold a candle to some of our very own interstates when it comes to insane drivers.
Looking for smelly and crowded subways like those found in Moscow, London and Paris? You can find those in New York City and you don’t even need a passport.
Maybe you were thinking of taking a trip down under. Forget it. My wife and I used to watch the Crocodile Hunter all the time and it seems like everything that can kill you a hundred times over is found in Australia. They have giant crocodiles in every stretch of water and man-eating sharks that cruise up and down the beaches. If that weren’t enough, they have snakes that can kill you just by reputation alone and huge, ugly spiders that kill you and then eat you. What kind of vacation is that?
China? You can have that too. I saw a Richard Gere movie where he got in deep doo-doo for something he supposedly said or did there. Besides, if you want to visit a communist state, there’s always California.
On second thought, you might find a little more freedom and better cost of living in China.
Basically, the only reason that is left to venture overseas would be for the food, and that problem is easily solved as well. Right here in America we have every ethnic and cultural style of food imaginable and you don’t have to get to the restaurant by airliner. Plus, you can drink the water without having to worry about doing the Tango on the way to a Mexican drug cartel chieftain's personal outhouse.
Vacationing overseas? You can have it. But if you insist, just remember to make sure all your insurance policies are up to date and in good order.
And don’t forget to pack lots of extra toilet paper.
Tweet
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Gas pains that Rolaids won't touch
The price of gas at the pumps is giving us collective gas pains that bathing in a sea of Alka Seltzer wouldn't even cure.
You see, the astronomical price of gasoline in America is a symptom of the problem, and not the bigger problem.
The bigger problem is that our government is run, manipulated, bullied and influenced by everyone except for the voters who put their butts in office.
Everyone from the Sierra Club to PETA to Exxon Mobil to the homeless to the transgender freaks have their own lobbyists, all of whom have suitcases full of cash and pockets full of perks to bribe our elected prostitutes with.
And bribe they do.
And then there are the taxes per gallon that each state charges. Not surprising, California and New York--the two bastions of socialism--lead the way in charging the most draconian taxes per gallon of gasoline.
Right here in Texas, we have more than enough oil wells already drilled and capped off to sustain ourselves for decades to come--so long as we don't sell it to too many other states. But, our neighbors all around us also have plenty of oil already drilled and capped off. So do our further reaching neighbors to the west and northwest, and especially our big cousin, Alaska.
Instead, our elected whores continue to pimp us out to the OPEC thugs, including that murderous, dick-tater in Venezuela, Hugo Chavez.
The problems with high prices at the pump go beyond just giving us a collective pain in the ass--where we carry our wallets. When gas prices go up, we tend to drive less and only to necessary places like work. That means stay-at-home vacations which means hotels and motels lose business. So do the roadside restaurants who are used to collecting money from traveling tourists. The souvenir hawkers and tour guides lose money. And so do the gas stations at the tourist destinations.
When gas prices go up, so do airline tickets. American Airlines just announced today they were having to raise ticket prices by a minimum of $10 per trip in an effort to try and offset rising oil prices. Remember: airlines also charge you $25 to $35 per bag, claiming the extra weight causes the airplane to use additional fuel.
I've been raising hell with airlines to charge fat/obese people extra for years, but that's another subject.
Diesel prices are the highest of all, and most farm tractors that I'm familiar with operate on diesel. So do the eighteen-wheelers that transport our goods. So do most of the cargo ships that haul trade goods around the world.
It's ridiculous that a handful of raghead sons of bitches can hold the world hostage simply by manipulating how much oil they pump and sell, and for how much.
I have an equitable solution.
You can't grow jackshit in Sand Land--aka Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Libya, Iran, Iraq, UAE and other desert wasteland oil depositories.
So how about charging the ragheads the same price for a bushel of wheat as they do for a barrel of crude? Rice? hey, a gallon-container of rice for the same price as a gallon of diesel.
Deal is, we can walk places if we have to, but the Saudis and other oil sheiks have to eat, and last I read, crude oil is not part of the four food groups.
In the meantime, let's start tapping into our own deposits right here in North America and tell the OPEC assholes to go to hell.
To the elected folks in Washington: We put you there this past 2010 to do what is right and to do our bidding. We can damn sure remove you in 2012 if you don't hold up to your end of the deal.
To the Republican majority: Tell that sonofabitch Obama to kiss our ass and go straight to hell and get us the legislative approval needed to start drilling in ANWR ASAP. You have the majority in the House. Get the damned ball rolling. Now.
No more excuses.
You see, the astronomical price of gasoline in America is a symptom of the problem, and not the bigger problem.
The bigger problem is that our government is run, manipulated, bullied and influenced by everyone except for the voters who put their butts in office.
Everyone from the Sierra Club to PETA to Exxon Mobil to the homeless to the transgender freaks have their own lobbyists, all of whom have suitcases full of cash and pockets full of perks to bribe our elected prostitutes with.
And bribe they do.
And then there are the taxes per gallon that each state charges. Not surprising, California and New York--the two bastions of socialism--lead the way in charging the most draconian taxes per gallon of gasoline.
Right here in Texas, we have more than enough oil wells already drilled and capped off to sustain ourselves for decades to come--so long as we don't sell it to too many other states. But, our neighbors all around us also have plenty of oil already drilled and capped off. So do our further reaching neighbors to the west and northwest, and especially our big cousin, Alaska.
Instead, our elected whores continue to pimp us out to the OPEC thugs, including that murderous, dick-tater in Venezuela, Hugo Chavez.
The problems with high prices at the pump go beyond just giving us a collective pain in the ass--where we carry our wallets. When gas prices go up, we tend to drive less and only to necessary places like work. That means stay-at-home vacations which means hotels and motels lose business. So do the roadside restaurants who are used to collecting money from traveling tourists. The souvenir hawkers and tour guides lose money. And so do the gas stations at the tourist destinations.
When gas prices go up, so do airline tickets. American Airlines just announced today they were having to raise ticket prices by a minimum of $10 per trip in an effort to try and offset rising oil prices. Remember: airlines also charge you $25 to $35 per bag, claiming the extra weight causes the airplane to use additional fuel.
I've been raising hell with airlines to charge fat/obese people extra for years, but that's another subject.
Diesel prices are the highest of all, and most farm tractors that I'm familiar with operate on diesel. So do the eighteen-wheelers that transport our goods. So do most of the cargo ships that haul trade goods around the world.
It's ridiculous that a handful of raghead sons of bitches can hold the world hostage simply by manipulating how much oil they pump and sell, and for how much.
I have an equitable solution.
You can't grow jackshit in Sand Land--aka Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Libya, Iran, Iraq, UAE and other desert wasteland oil depositories.
So how about charging the ragheads the same price for a bushel of wheat as they do for a barrel of crude? Rice? hey, a gallon-container of rice for the same price as a gallon of diesel.
Deal is, we can walk places if we have to, but the Saudis and other oil sheiks have to eat, and last I read, crude oil is not part of the four food groups.
In the meantime, let's start tapping into our own deposits right here in North America and tell the OPEC assholes to go to hell.
To the elected folks in Washington: We put you there this past 2010 to do what is right and to do our bidding. We can damn sure remove you in 2012 if you don't hold up to your end of the deal.
To the Republican majority: Tell that sonofabitch Obama to kiss our ass and go straight to hell and get us the legislative approval needed to start drilling in ANWR ASAP. You have the majority in the House. Get the damned ball rolling. Now.
No more excuses.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Suing your way to prosperity
I have finally found a way to completely quit working and at the same time, become incredibly rich.
I’m going to sue my way to untold wealth.
Thankfully I live in America where we have more lawyers than the rain forest has bloodsucking parasites, which if you think about it, is exactly what most trial lawyers are. Therefore, I reason, if I’m patient and can learn to become a professional victim, I should be rolling in cash in no time.
When the lawsuit was announced that a group of overweight human cardiac time-bombs filed suit against the fast-food industry, I refrained from slapping my forehead in disgust for not being two-hundred pounds overweight and on the waiting list for a sextuple double-secret probation arterial bypass.
Instead, I sat down and did some serious thinking about other everyday things I do that I can sue somebody for. Provided my potential lawyers can find enough stupid jurors, which the tobacco lawsuits have proven is easy enough to do, the following lawsuits should have me on the road to riches in no time.
--Ordinary American v IBM. This one should be a lead-pipe cinch. Most of my computer experience has been on Apple machines, but recently I had to learn to use the PC type computers that IBM created. The learning curve has been giving me migraines, compounded by bouts of diarrhea, thanks to Windows. As a result, my Tylenol and toilet-paper bills have been skyrocketing. By God, IBM is going to pay for that. Bill Gates, you're next.
--Ordinary American v the National Football League. I love football and like to grill or smoke some barbecue on Sunday mornings before the game. I can’t watch football without some barbecue and the Health Police keep telling me that all that red meat is going to kill me. Because I’m addicted to professional football and there are no such warnings about possible long-term addiction broadcast before each game, somebody’s going to pay for that. When I win this one, I’ll be richer than Peyton Manning.
--Ordinary American v Sea Ray. Our beloved boat is a Sea Ray and boats work best in water. You can drown in water, so there’s one potential risk. The other is that the best days to go on the water are days in which it is sunny. Sun can slowly kill you, same as cigarettes and red meat. Nobody at Sea Ray or any other boat manufacturer has ever advised me to “boat in moderation,” so I’m going to sue them for a quick billion to teach them a lesson.
--Ordinary American v Direct TV. Our satellite TV service gives us umpteen hundred channels to watch, yet sometimes there is still nothing worth watching on the tube. When there is nothing on the tube, I have to take the boat out for some enjoyment. This is a double-whammy (see Ordinary American v Sea Ray). If my potential lawyers and I can imply that boat manufacturers have conspired with cable-service providers and get twelve idiots to agree, it’s Easy Street USA for me.
--Ordinary American v Coca-Cola and Pepsi (joint lawsuit). I’m a victim of the Cola Wars, hopelessly addicted to Coca-Cola Classic and Mountain Dew’s new Code Red. Too much of either keeps me awake at night where there is nothing to watch on TV and it’s too late to take the boat out. They also often give me gas, which in and of itself can cause pain and suffering, not to mention a high degree of embarrassment when you let one slip in church during the childrens service. Compensatory damages may be slim, but punitive damages have the potential to be staggering.
I figure that any one of these potential lawsuits can go platinum. With the publicity I receive, I’ll cut a few book deals and then negotiate with the networks and their movie moguls to tell my life’s story. All I need now is a team of lawyers to make it all happen.
One word of caution to whichever firm decides to represent me in these lawsuits. If I lose, I’ll be suing you for every last dime you’re worth.
I’m going to sue my way to untold wealth.
Thankfully I live in America where we have more lawyers than the rain forest has bloodsucking parasites, which if you think about it, is exactly what most trial lawyers are. Therefore, I reason, if I’m patient and can learn to become a professional victim, I should be rolling in cash in no time.
When the lawsuit was announced that a group of overweight human cardiac time-bombs filed suit against the fast-food industry, I refrained from slapping my forehead in disgust for not being two-hundred pounds overweight and on the waiting list for a sextuple double-secret probation arterial bypass.
Instead, I sat down and did some serious thinking about other everyday things I do that I can sue somebody for. Provided my potential lawyers can find enough stupid jurors, which the tobacco lawsuits have proven is easy enough to do, the following lawsuits should have me on the road to riches in no time.
--Ordinary American v IBM. This one should be a lead-pipe cinch. Most of my computer experience has been on Apple machines, but recently I had to learn to use the PC type computers that IBM created. The learning curve has been giving me migraines, compounded by bouts of diarrhea, thanks to Windows. As a result, my Tylenol and toilet-paper bills have been skyrocketing. By God, IBM is going to pay for that. Bill Gates, you're next.
--Ordinary American v the National Football League. I love football and like to grill or smoke some barbecue on Sunday mornings before the game. I can’t watch football without some barbecue and the Health Police keep telling me that all that red meat is going to kill me. Because I’m addicted to professional football and there are no such warnings about possible long-term addiction broadcast before each game, somebody’s going to pay for that. When I win this one, I’ll be richer than Peyton Manning.
--Ordinary American v Sea Ray. Our beloved boat is a Sea Ray and boats work best in water. You can drown in water, so there’s one potential risk. The other is that the best days to go on the water are days in which it is sunny. Sun can slowly kill you, same as cigarettes and red meat. Nobody at Sea Ray or any other boat manufacturer has ever advised me to “boat in moderation,” so I’m going to sue them for a quick billion to teach them a lesson.
--Ordinary American v Direct TV. Our satellite TV service gives us umpteen hundred channels to watch, yet sometimes there is still nothing worth watching on the tube. When there is nothing on the tube, I have to take the boat out for some enjoyment. This is a double-whammy (see Ordinary American v Sea Ray). If my potential lawyers and I can imply that boat manufacturers have conspired with cable-service providers and get twelve idiots to agree, it’s Easy Street USA for me.
--Ordinary American v Coca-Cola and Pepsi (joint lawsuit). I’m a victim of the Cola Wars, hopelessly addicted to Coca-Cola Classic and Mountain Dew’s new Code Red. Too much of either keeps me awake at night where there is nothing to watch on TV and it’s too late to take the boat out. They also often give me gas, which in and of itself can cause pain and suffering, not to mention a high degree of embarrassment when you let one slip in church during the childrens service. Compensatory damages may be slim, but punitive damages have the potential to be staggering.
I figure that any one of these potential lawsuits can go platinum. With the publicity I receive, I’ll cut a few book deals and then negotiate with the networks and their movie moguls to tell my life’s story. All I need now is a team of lawyers to make it all happen.
One word of caution to whichever firm decides to represent me in these lawsuits. If I lose, I’ll be suing you for every last dime you’re worth.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Why are you showing me your underwear?
The other day, someone accused me of having my panties in a wad.
Moi? The easiest going, non-excitable, non-opinionated guy around?
What brought this all about was that I was at a shopping mall when a young lady cut in front of me at the checkout line. I looked down, and not believing that I saw what I thought I saw, looked down again. She was wearing very provocative thong underwear, the tops of which were plainly visible because there was a lot of skin between her jeans and her equally provocative halter top.
Evolution or Darwinism, or both, has dictated that such people now have eyes in the back of their heads because she whirled around and caught me in mid-gape.
“What the (f-bomb) are you looking at?” she demanded.
“Your underwear,” I replied truthfully. “It looks awfully uncomfortable. I know, because sometimes when my underwear rides up like that on hot days—“
“You have no right to look at my underwear,” she declared.
“Then why are you showing it to me?” I asked.
Can anyone answer that question? Go to any shopping mall where high school or college girls hang out and it looks like thong city. For those of you less informed as to the delicacies of unmentionables, thong underwear are those skimpy bottoms that professional strippers and White House interns often wear. When not covered by other garments, such as jeans or a skirt, they leave little to the imagination. And I do mean little. It seems to have become the underwear of choice for many young ladies of today.
That’s all fine and good except that they also like to pull their thongs up high so that the tops of them—front and back—are easily visible when the young lady is wearing any shirt that doesn’t quite reach to the top of her jeans. How can wearing a thong like that possibly be comfortable?
And just in case any of you think I’m being sexist about this, young boy-dudes have the same problem, only it’s not thongs they’re wearing. At least, I don’t think they are.
The boy-dudes who think they’re cool are wearing these low-rider baggy pants in which the waist hangs down midway to the knees, leaving us no choice but to clearly see if they are wearing boxers or briefs. This is usually accompanied by wearing their baseball hat backwards, or even worse, with the bill sticking out over one ear or the other, which usually has a couple of earnings in it.
Do these kids’ parents know that their sons and daughters are out there showing the world their underwear?
When I was a kid, my mother was forever telling me, “Pull up your pants, I can see your underwear.” In grade school, you were mortified if your shorts crept up while you were at the blackboard working a math problem. In junior high and high school, it was downright dangerous to have your underwear even barely visible because it guaranteed you a major league wedgie that would leave you singing soprano for the rest of the day.
Even worse, your mom always knew when you’d gotten a wedgie because the elastic in the waistband was completely shot.
“Got a wedgie, didn’t you?” Mom would say, accusingly. “See? That’s what you get for letting your underwear show.”
Indeed.
A few years ago, it seems that a lot of folks got their panties in a wad out in San Diego when a female high school assistant principal took on the role of Thong Detector at the prom. It’s my understanding that she was lifting each girl’s skirt before they went in to check and make sure that they weren’t wearing a thong. Some said that she even went as far as to also peep down the front of the girl’s dresses to ensure that they were also wearing a bra.
And I thought being in charge of cleaning the erasers was a great job back in high school. I would’ve killed to be a Thong Detector. Only, girls didn’t wear thongs back then. And if they did, they never showed them to us.
So girls, if you insist on wearing skimpy underwear these days and showing it to us every chance you get, I only have one thing to say.
Don’t get your thong in a wad when we look.
Moi? The easiest going, non-excitable, non-opinionated guy around?
What brought this all about was that I was at a shopping mall when a young lady cut in front of me at the checkout line. I looked down, and not believing that I saw what I thought I saw, looked down again. She was wearing very provocative thong underwear, the tops of which were plainly visible because there was a lot of skin between her jeans and her equally provocative halter top.
Evolution or Darwinism, or both, has dictated that such people now have eyes in the back of their heads because she whirled around and caught me in mid-gape.
“What the (f-bomb) are you looking at?” she demanded.
“Your underwear,” I replied truthfully. “It looks awfully uncomfortable. I know, because sometimes when my underwear rides up like that on hot days—“
“You have no right to look at my underwear,” she declared.
“Then why are you showing it to me?” I asked.
Can anyone answer that question? Go to any shopping mall where high school or college girls hang out and it looks like thong city. For those of you less informed as to the delicacies of unmentionables, thong underwear are those skimpy bottoms that professional strippers and White House interns often wear. When not covered by other garments, such as jeans or a skirt, they leave little to the imagination. And I do mean little. It seems to have become the underwear of choice for many young ladies of today.
That’s all fine and good except that they also like to pull their thongs up high so that the tops of them—front and back—are easily visible when the young lady is wearing any shirt that doesn’t quite reach to the top of her jeans. How can wearing a thong like that possibly be comfortable?
And just in case any of you think I’m being sexist about this, young boy-dudes have the same problem, only it’s not thongs they’re wearing. At least, I don’t think they are.
The boy-dudes who think they’re cool are wearing these low-rider baggy pants in which the waist hangs down midway to the knees, leaving us no choice but to clearly see if they are wearing boxers or briefs. This is usually accompanied by wearing their baseball hat backwards, or even worse, with the bill sticking out over one ear or the other, which usually has a couple of earnings in it.
Do these kids’ parents know that their sons and daughters are out there showing the world their underwear?
When I was a kid, my mother was forever telling me, “Pull up your pants, I can see your underwear.” In grade school, you were mortified if your shorts crept up while you were at the blackboard working a math problem. In junior high and high school, it was downright dangerous to have your underwear even barely visible because it guaranteed you a major league wedgie that would leave you singing soprano for the rest of the day.
Even worse, your mom always knew when you’d gotten a wedgie because the elastic in the waistband was completely shot.
“Got a wedgie, didn’t you?” Mom would say, accusingly. “See? That’s what you get for letting your underwear show.”
Indeed.
A few years ago, it seems that a lot of folks got their panties in a wad out in San Diego when a female high school assistant principal took on the role of Thong Detector at the prom. It’s my understanding that she was lifting each girl’s skirt before they went in to check and make sure that they weren’t wearing a thong. Some said that she even went as far as to also peep down the front of the girl’s dresses to ensure that they were also wearing a bra.
And I thought being in charge of cleaning the erasers was a great job back in high school. I would’ve killed to be a Thong Detector. Only, girls didn’t wear thongs back then. And if they did, they never showed them to us.
So girls, if you insist on wearing skimpy underwear these days and showing it to us every chance you get, I only have one thing to say.
Don’t get your thong in a wad when we look.
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