Monday, August 22, 2016

The "Smart" Way to Get an Opinion

A wonderful new app,, provides computer and smartphone users with a new method of collecting and sharing information. Once logged on, a user can ask virtually any question that will be sent out via social media, the answers are returned anonymously – no one knows who you are. Because of this anonymity respondents tend to be more honest.
 Pollsters pursuing truthful results favor The reason: There are no snotty agents on the other end of the line ready to scream names such as racist and bigot should you choose an answer not of their liking. Many people being polled by telephone have become leery of polls in which they are addressed by a live agent. They are often cursed and screamed at, and worst of all, the creep knows who you are. You are unsure to whom your answers may be reported. A bit of paranoia sets in.
Few people with whom I converse on a daily or weekly basis have any confidence in the national polls that show Hillary ahead of Trump. Some of these show such vast disparities as to be unbelievable - but then no one truly believes Democrats anyway. They’ve become the parody of the Big Lie. Truth seems not be an element in their vocabulary. Sad that a major political party must rely on lies to forward its agenda, but that’s where we are in our history. As we are seeing, lies and deceit lead to abuse of people.
Consequently, there appears a better way of polling results for the candidates.
Says Ric Militi, co-founder of San Diego based Crazy Raccoons , maker of the Zip question and answer app, “We’re not a poll. We’re a conversation and 100 percent anonymous. People feel comfortable answering questions without fear of being bullied or being called racist. People can express themselves safely, and you get a pure answer.”
Militi says a poll asking respondents, “News polls suggest Trump is getting crushed by Clinton. Do they reflect how you are going to vote?” Some 64 percent told Zip they would vote for Trump compared to 36 percent for Clinton. In the latest Reuters/ Ipsos poll Clinton leads Trump 42 percent to 36 percent. (But its Reuters – what else would you expect?
In California, a Zip survey gave Trump a 55 percent to 45 percent lead over Clinton. At the same time a poll generated at the Public Policy Institute of California gave Clinton a 16-point advantage over the Donald, 46 percent to 30 percent.
Douglas Rivers, a Stanford University political science wonk and chief scientist for You-Gov, which conducts online polls with such partners as CBS and the Economist (a couple of real objective pollsters there), has questions about  Zip app participants.
“Who are these people?” Doug asks in snooty fashion. “What do we know about them? We worry a lot about who we’re talking to.”
No you don’t, Doug. You worry only about their answers to your questions.
The Zip app is not only to answer political questions. The permutations are endless. For example, what’s America’s favorite car? What’s your opinion on which team will win the Super Bowl. Which two teams are favored to play in the World Series. What’s the best pickup line.  You can resolve debates, settle bets, win (or lose) an argument.
Militi insists that most media polls are just dead wrong – he might have said bias, but refrained.
“Smartphone answers are the wave of the future."

Saturday, August 13, 2016

Trumpsters Cannot Be Pansies

We on the Trumpster side of the election must remember whose side we’re on. We cannot go pansy on the Republican candidate because he says some stupid things sometimes. Most of these are overdone by the Democrat party and Democrat-left-leaning press, such as MSNBC and CNN, which have both lost heavily in the ratings since the Democrat Convention because they’re so heavily in the tank for liberal Democrats out to destroy our representative republic.
We need to keep in mind that history has a strange way of repeating itself. For the first six thousand or so years the predominant governmental system in the world was monarchy. A king – one non-elected guy – ran the country. Hereditary laws kept power in his family after his death. Often the next generation was much worse than the one before it. Kings (sometimes queens) had power of life and death over entire populations. What he (she) said went. Kings, emperors, tsars, in some cases princes or regents had sway over the whole shebang. If you didn’t like it and got too loud about it –started yelling and carrying placards in the streets offensive to the king, he gave the headsman a nod and you very quickly lost your head. Executions in the old times were not put off for twenty years while crimes were interminably appealed. Sometimes your head came up missing in a matter of hours. People enjoyed watching heads roll, often bringing food for picnics and whatnot, to watch your head get lopped off and tumble into a basket. Many of you youngsters may not know of this time in history; but I assure you it’s true.
Up until the time of the American Revolution England ruled America. Our Founding Fathers called for revolution to free us from the tyranny of England’s rule. We won. We became the one of the first free countries in the world. Because of the brilliantly written Constitution there were rules that bound us all to the law of the land. We had a President, not a king who could order “Off with his head!” and a Senate and a House of Representatives to protect our interests. (If you are unfamiliar with this, you need to read about it – its darned interesting material.)
Do you recognize any differences now! We have a president intent on kicking aside the Law of the Land whenever one of its precepts interferes with his interests – or Congress refuses to back him in what is obviously unconstitutional.  Members of Congress are afraid to challenge him in any legislation that the president is sure to veto. He won’t be chopping any heads off – at least not publicly, but there are reports of deaths linked to leaking by Democrat operatives that were not appreciated.
The president cannot hand down his office to a family member, but he can back a candidate who shares his ideology. Bad healthcare, higher taxes, rotten economy, much higher unemployment than being reported (actually closer to 20 percent than to the current 4.9 percent lie), backing the lie of global warming (aka climate change – all the same thing), fewer freedoms.  Not only has the president chosen to stand behind a career criminal, he has chosen to put his influence behind a woman who has already sold out America to foreign countries to the tune of several billion dollars. All of this money is intended to build the Clinton’s private fortune , while she sells influence once she is president.  She fully intends to rule like a martinet (a strict ruler), and force America ever closer to totalitarianism – defined by Encarta Dictionary as: relating to or operating a centralized government system in which a single party, without opposition, rules over political, economic, social, cultural life. Everything. This is the system of government the Founding Fathers and the American patriots fought so valiantly against so you and I would be free.  Do you see how the historical circle is closing? We’re losing our freedom, folks, and, quite frankly, we’re not doing enough to hold back the forces that will destroy us. We’re too quick to denounce are own candidate and endorse a female thug.
Donald Trump might say something that offends some people, so now they say they hate him and want to vote for Hillary. People who are so easily swayed to the most corrupt, most dishonest presidential candidate in the 240 years of our history (except the current president, of course) cannot be thinking straight. They are wishy-washy and truly have no principles of their own. It is just dead wrong to allow the Democrat Party and Democrat news media to sway your vote on flimsy evidence. Candidates speak millions of words while campaigning. Donald Trump can’t follow a script (the teleprompter), a fact I find refreshing, and when he goes off the script he sometimes says things he shouldn’t.  As the saying goes, he needs to engage brain before putting mouth into motion. Or sometimes he says things the liberals choose to interpret into something they are not, such as his comment about how second amendment people might put an end to the Hillary threat. 
Odd that I’ve always thought the objective of gun control is to deprive those second amendment adherents and the rest of Americans of the very instrument that might save them from totalitarian encroachment. (BO and Hillary to name but a few). Is this what Trump meant? I don’t know, but I don’t think so. I think he was reflecting on what would happen if second amendment types all went to cast their vote for him.  And this is the way you should think about it, too. We need to stand up for our candidates, not go storming off to vote for the corrupt imposter, all in a snit.
Remember if you will, that when it was evident Hillary was losing ground to Barack Obama in the 2008 primaries, she famously announced to the press that she would stay in the race because of the likelihood of Obama being assassinated. Of course the press should have jumped all over her statement, but because she’s a liberal Democrat nothing was said. Yet what she said was more inflammatory - Obama being black – than anything Trump has said.
Trumpsters need to grow up, just as the Republican elite in Washington need to get off their high horses and back our candidate. We the people voted Trump in as a Republican candidate through the primaries. These assholes need to stop derailing him. Whether they think he would make a good president or not is irrelevant. He’s the candidate We chose, and he therefore deserves a chance to show his mettle. Half the country didn’t think Ronald Reagan would show as a good president either.
Turned out he was pretty good at it.

Monday, August 8, 2016

A Story About a Pandering Dog Catcher


This summer I made the acquaintance of a very large dog. By the time I met Brutus, my wife and he had been best of friends for some time. My wife, whose name is Mary, used to visit the neglected St Bernard  two usually three times a day, and, lord, you should have seem them together. Let me explain.
Brutus occupies a dog house at a fairly busy intersection outside Canisteo on Route 36; his plight is well known. Apparently, many caring passersby reported the conditions under which this tragic creature is forced to live. However, the dog control officer, a character named Hadsell, who is known to hold little regard for his charges and does the minimum he can get away with for them, insists that all that’s necessary for keeping a pet is to supply food and water (apparently amounts are not specified). Such fundamentals as grooming, socialization, walking, petting, playing fetch are apparently not necessary in providing a wholesome environment for one’s dog, which is after all, a sociable creature. And, besides, Hadsell would say, the owner is a friend of mine - leave the poor man alone.
Brutus’ plight is that he is chained out in the hot sun day after day. From all reports, no one in the owner’s family pays the slightest attention to him. My wife first met the big galumping creature during her rounds for Meals on Wheels. Mary loves people and she loves animals, particularly horses and dogs. She carries treats in her car for every dog on her route, and seeing this big dog all alone every day inspired her to stop and say “hello”. Brutus, of course, was pleased as punch to have somebody pay attention to him. My wife offered treats and Brutus was pleased as punch to take them from her.
During her visits she noticed that Brutus’ food and water dishes were always empty, regardless of the time of day she stopped by. Often in the afternoon, during the hottest part of the day – and they’ve all been at least ninety degrees this summer - there was no water. She began carrying quart bottles of water with her; she said he often drank the whole thing and wanted more. And she began carrying much larger snacks – she discovered rather quickly Brutus had a liking for pizza – and, of course, pork chops! Before long, he would hear her car coming from a half-mile away and emerge from wherever he could find shade, to greet her. Brutus would bound about playfully, roll on his back, long spindly legs waving in the air, and lay contentedly while he was combed.
Keep in mind, my wife was not sneaking around to visit Brutus. She had asked the owner’s permission to spend time with him and to bring snacks and water. He said he didn’t mind. What the heck, she was doing his job! She could not tolerate the animal’s plight and was doing all she could to see him through. She’d often go to him, just to be with him, pet and comb him. It’s seldom one sees a happier dog – and my wife is always happiest when she’s helping someone – human or creature. Those of you who know her know what I’m talking about.
How sad it is that she’s been barred from visiting her new friend. It happened this way.
Apparently, of the many people who would stop and talk to Brutus and pet him (he’d become a bit of a tragic celebrity), one was a little girl who stomped on his tail. He bit her – don’t blame him; I’d have bitten the little cretin, too. There was no broken skin, no serious injury. However, the kid’s parents were not going to let their little darling be responsible for her actions, so the incident was reported: Brutus was locked up in the local “shelter”, under quarantine, and the cretin got to go home. He was “sentenced” to ten days, ostensibly for observation (but with no broken skin, there can be no disease, so what’s the point?) Mary and I, upon hearing of his incarceration, went to visit the inmate. A locked door barred entry, so we looked in a window. Believe me, it was not a place fit for life. The place stunk, the fan was off and it was the usual ninety degrees-plus day. Poor Brutus, obviously sick, lay in a large puddle of diarrhea. He recognized my wife’s voice and rose on long, wobbly legs to greet her. There was barely room enough for the big fellow to turn around in the cage. With his coat matted down with feces, his malnourishment was even more obvious. I swear there was a haunted look in his eyes. My wife and I agreed he was better off chained to his dog house out on the crossroads.
We discovered, to our edification, that the dog control officer (in this case, an obvious euphemism for dog catcher) had complete authority as to the plight of dogs in the shelter. That meant that the putz Hadsell had the say-so over Brutus. My wife talked to Hadsell several times, each time mentioning she wanted to buy the dog from the present owner, in order to provide him with a good home. Her request was turned down, and in our opinion, was never passed on to the owner. She called the owner with the same request but was turned down.
If the putz Hadsell had been conscientious about doing his job, instead of pandering to his friend, Brutus would have been examined by the local veterinarian for malnutrition and general body condition, inasmuch as he was always chained to his doghouse and, seemingly, never exercised. (Young dogs – Brutus is about three years - according to vet guidelines need 30 to 60 minutes of exercise each day.) Brutus’ exercise comes from walking from sun to shade several times a day, while chained. (Brutus is never off the chain.)The local vet says he has to be requested by You-Know-Who to do an exam. That request never came, likely because the results would not have produced a favorable outcome for You-Know- Who’s buddy or You-Know-Who.
Meanwhile, after his sentence was up, Brutus had his day in court, in absentia, of course. Sadly, due to the machinations of the inept Hadsell, Brutus was returned to the intersection to spend his days in ninety-some-degree sun, likely with little or no water and little if any food. Meanwhile the property has been posted. (Word has it there is a place under some trees a distance from the house where Brutus could be kept, but it's a bit of a walk. God forbid! He likely would never be fed or watered, in such a case. Otherwise, one would think, he should have been moved there months ago.)
The town justice ordered that Mary could not visit him anymore (apparently the putz said she was interfering where she had no business). Mary asked the town supervisor – the putz’s boss – if she could become a volunteer to the shelter (we live less than a mile away and I think she would have actually considered it an honor to be of help to these creatures, many homeless), but the decision was up to Hadsell and he said he didn’t need any help – what he needs is replacing. We have it on good authority that the only time he does anything worthwhile is when he’s under the gun.
People of Canisteo: If you love your pet and the hapless creature ends up in the Canisteo Animal Shelter, get it out of there yesterday - lest it stay under the authority of a man with no job (dog catcher is not a full-time position – or it better not be), lives in a trash trailer, and sells brown eggs for a living.

 My wife says she’s thinking of asking for the position at the time such appointments are made (January). Every dog and dog owner in the village should welcome such a candidate.

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

The Theft of an Education

My pal Red State Louie and I were indulging in adult beverages at a patio table at the Golden Gulp and Glug Cocktail Joint in Washington, D.C. We were quietly discussing the political conventions, as were many around us. Politics was in the air!
We were marveling at how easily Slick Willie spun the lie of the rapture shared with Hillary during the years of their marriage. (Has there ever been a more dysfunctional marriage – I mean really?) Suddenly, down the street come our barely bearable buddy Pud Politico, a real honest-to-gosh liberal hack. Pud wore a jokers-style hat and vest, checkerboard pants that he thought were the coolest thing around.  He was strumming his lips as he rode in on a skate board, mumbling “Hillary’s Great, Hillary’s Great.” He kicked the board up into his hand and dismounted, a stupid grin stretching his features into a “Gotcha” look. He tucked the board under his arm and flopped down in a chair at our table.
“That Hillary’s great, ain’t she?” he asked no one particular. “Wow, what a woman, huh, Newshawk?”
“Are we talking about the same person, Pud?”
“Yeah, the next president, you know the one.”
“Yep, the one who looks and speaks like she wakes up with a screaming headache every morning.”
“She’ll be a great president. Did you hear her speech? Man, oh, man, all the stuff she says she’s gonna fix. Hillary wants to make life better for everybody.”
“Pud,” said Red State Louie, “it was the same stuff the Democrats have been promising in every election for at least the past 50 years. More jobs, lower taxes, better healthcare, fix the education system, national security. Yadda, yadda. But there’s been no change.”
“Yep. Yep, that’s right. Democrats are good at promising …” Pud’s eyes were bugging out now as his excitement grew.
“And doing nothing. Liberals have been promising black people a leg up for years – but have never delivered.”
“Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah!,” sputtered Pud. “Why do they keep voting for Democrats then, huh?” This last in the same childish manner of a fourth-grader. We were surprised he didn’t stick his tongue out at us.
“I dunno. It’s obvious the libs have no plans to help blacks – or anyone else, for that matter. If they were they could have made huge changes for the better in the past eight years. Instead, they’ve made everything – and I mean everything – much worse,” I said.
“Yep,” drawled Red State, “healthcare’s a disaster. The economy, no matter how many times they lie about how good it is, is in the tank, and our education system went from being among the best in the world to pretty durn bad.”
“Mister, oh, mister,” called a young woman sitting at the next table over. “Aren’t you the Newshawk?”
“Would you mind answering a question for me.”
“If I can.”
“In Mrs. Clinton’s speech she spoke briefly about an incident that happened in Philadelphia many years ago. It sounded very important, but I don’t remember hearing about in school. It started with an R, I believe.”
“An important historical event that started with an R?”
“How about the Renaissance?” suggested Red State.
“No, that wasn’t it,” replied the girl.
“Thur was a French explorer named sumthing-or-other Radisson who trapped fur in Canada at one time,” mused Pud. “They named a string of hotels after him – big ones, too,” wiping his nose on his sleeve.
“How about retarded,” I suggested, nodding toward Politico.
“Reconstruction, perhaps,” said Red State.
“Or redistribution. We’ve seen quite a bit if that lately.”
“No, it had a V in it. Rev, something, I think.”
“Oh,” says Red State perking up. “You mean the Revolution. The American Revolution.”
“The what?”  asked the girl, her faced wrinkled in an ’I don’t know what you’re taking about’ way.
“The American Revolution was a war fought here in the United States. Americans were fighting England for their independence and ultimately their – and our – freedom.”
“We had to fight for our freedom?” she asked, taken aback by the idea. “Wow. That’s cool. That makes it so much more precious than just having it. But my dad says we’re losing our freedom.”
“Freedom. Fiddlesticks. Now you’re gonna blame liberals for losing our freedom. Ain’t ya?”
“Just what do you think political correctness is all about,” I asked.
“PC is cool, man. Gives you control over people.”
The girl, looking sad, asked, “Why didn’t I learn about the American Revolution in school?”
“The education establishment, owned and operated by democrats, elected to deprive grade school and high school students an awareness of their heritage. It’s much easier to turn young minds against their country when they have no knowledge of it or pride in it,” I explained.
“To bad you and others your age couldn’t sue government agencies involved in stealing your education, but they would never allow it.”
The sad young woman looked around as if lost, then asked, “What can I do?”
Red State and I thought for a minute, then shrugged.

Pud sat picking his nose.

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Evading the American Dream

Being a believer in the sovereignty of American soil, I was out patrolling the Mexican-U.S. border the other day, as a volunteer. I continually experienced the sounds of scurrying legs brushing against denim and saw bushes jiggling in the absence of wind but could see nothing amiss. Chalking it all off to an overactive imagination, I plodded on, in the fervent belief I was stopping wetbacks from illegally despoiling the primacy of America.

Later, I came upon a Mexican man surveying a piece of land along the Arizona border. I asked his name to which he answered “Manual Labor.”

I then asked “What’s going on, Manual?”

“I am surveying this piece of land along the Arizona border,” he replied.

He said nothing further, so I asked, “Why are you surveying this piece of land along the Arizona border?”

“Just because, senor.”

“Because why?

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“You mean it’s a secret?” Really interested now.

“Si, senor, a secret. We are doing something we can’t let BO’s Schmos know about.”

“Wow, it’s not a secret the government is trying to keep from us, but a secret we are trying to keep from the government? Man, oh, man, how cool is this? Tell me more, amigo.”

“Well, you see I’m surveying this piece of land along the Arizona border?”

“Yes, I do, but why are you doing such a thing, out here in the middle of nowhere, along the Arizona border.?”

“And while I am surveying this piece of land, there is another man surveying a piece of land up north.”

“You don’t say?”

“I do say.”

“Is that secret from BO’s Schmos, too?”

“Si. You see, when I’m done surveying this piece of land along the Arizona border, we are going to bring in a backhoe and dig a really big hole. Then dig a tunnel from here and go across the border underground.”

“You mean to make it easier for Mexicans to come here illegally, you’ll build an underground superhighway? But, you wouldn’t have to hide that from BO’s Schmos; they’d be all for it. Hell, they’d be down here helping you dig – bring their own shovels. Pack a lunch, make a day of it. Bring the wife and kids – show them how to break the law.”

“Oh, no, senor, eet’s nothing like that. The illegals already have tunnels of their own. BO’s Schmos say we have to leave them alone.”

“I take it you are not in favor of illegal immigration?”

“No, senor. They should be coming over the right way, like my parents did years ago. There are many people from all countries waiting to be allowed to come here. They wait for years. Yet BO’s Schmos say it’s okay to break the law, and where laws are in place against coming here illegally, BO’s Schmos say they can’t enforce the law. It’s wrong, what the schmos do, senor, but, in truth, they do little that doesn’t harm the country.”

“So you are not in favor of La Raza’s stance that claims the states of the southwest were stolen from Mexico? They want them back. Even moved into an office near BO’s so they could continually hound BO to hand them over.”

“La Raza is a bunch of wild-ass radicals. They think BO will sign an executive order in their favor, when he becomes a lame duck, which is coming right up.”

“Sounds about right. But then why are you building this tunnel? That’s a huge project. Is it a gateway to round ‘em up and herd ‘em back?” I said, smiling like I hit the nail on the head, sounding a bit like the guy on Rawhide.

“The tunnel is for the Americans who are looking for jobs and can’t find them here. We fully expect a stampede. People think that with all the Mexicans in the US, there must be mucho jobs in Mexico. Unemployment in the US is much worse than is being reported. No one seriously believes the unemployment numbers reported by the state-owned media, bunch of kiss-asses that they are.”

“Build it and they will come, huh?”

“Si. And we have to keep it quiet because BO’s Schmos would never let them leave. It would make them look bad, and they would be losing people to send checks to.”

“So, you’re building a tunnel here. What’s the project up north all about?”

“It’s a parking lot, senor, for the jobseekers. They’ll park up there, we’ll shuttle them to the tunnel. We’ll put in an escalator and have a few sidewalk cafes and snack bars. There will be a side ramp to run golf carts on, for the elderly who have to return to work.”

“Wow, Manual, it sounds really nice. No cobweb infested, dank-smelling rabbit warren tunnels for the escaping Americans, huh?”

“No, senor, and you know what else? Next year, if, God forbid, Hillary becomes president? We’ll be putting in an airport.”

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Virgins in Need of Facial Cream

The day after a crazed jihadist killed 84 people in France, El Semi Uno, our beloved leader, addressed the U.N. with a plan to defeat global terrorism. No kidding. As usual, a day late.
After nearly eight years of feckless leadership in various matters of grave concern to us, he has come through again. Remarkable.
It’s all so simple. All we have to do, says BO, is to set new goals for sustainable development that will finally put an end to poverty (something the Democrats in this country have been promising for years.). The feckless one also opined the necessity for providing global healthcare (dare we pray for an expansion of BOcare?) and promoting a fine education for all the wee little ones (perhaps we might refer to the system in current use in the U.S.).  BO also stated the necessity of equality for all people – including women, of course. Oh, yeah, and save the planet from climate change (formerly known by its more appropriate name, global warming, of which there ain’t no such thing. Hasn’t been for nearly 20 years. IT’S A HOAX, FOLKS, AND WAS PROVEN TO BE JUST THAT! ALL THE CRAP THEY’VE TAUGHT YOUR KIDS IN SCHOOL IS PROPAGANDA. (Some of you might remember that this is the same bunch of shitheads who called for an ice age back in the 1970s.)
All of this is, of course, pure BO Bull. The message, not so cleverly camouflaged: All the world’s ills will magically vanish when we submit to one global power – one presumes he means with him as King. (I’ve never been able to convince myself that BO will simply walk away from the presidency when his term is up. More sane individuals than this president has lamented the necessity of leaving the position of the Most Powerful Man in the World. Leave on Monday; Tuesday morning you’re an average Joe. Got to be a hard egg to swallow. Serious adjustments are necessary.)
“Americans,” says our leader to the U.N., “should stop being so selfish and self-centered and surrender themselves to the common good.
“The hatred and violence of a few ultimately is no match for the love and decency of people of good will and compassion. The world needs to work with our Muslim partners to push back against hateful ideologies that twist and distort Islam, a religion of peace and compassion.”
Excuse me! This from a guy who wouldn’t know an enemy if one walked up and kissed his ring.
This from a guy whose ideal religion forces into memory Orlando, San Bernardino and the Fort Hood massacre.
Yes, one must give the prevaricator-in-chief some credit for having nice ideas but grit our teeth at the probability of ulterior motivation. To speak in platitudes of ending poverty, providing healthcare for all, promoting a workable education system for the poor of the world, and making everyone on earth equal (especially as to wealth) surely sounds like the dreams of one who “smoked a bit” in high school.
It all sounds so time-consuming and tedious – all that work, and where would the money come from (we Americans can easily surmise the remedy here, can we not?) It struck me while reading an item on that if we’re serious about ending terrorism (and I’m surprised El Semi Uno so much as recognized the existence of such people), there is a much more surefire way to do it.
According to a Koranic scholar from Canada an error of translation occurred that I am willing to bet would at least reduce the incidents of terrorism in the world, if not abolish it altogether. The scholar claims that the word used in the Koran for virgin is really the word for raisin. Some mistake, right?
Now, just imagine that you’re this big, bad jihad guy. There’s blood in your eye and you’re ready to blow something up. You do, however, lack the courage of your convictions and have few guts for confronting even unarmed adults, though you have no qualms about strapping on a bomb and climbing on a school bus. With visions of delectable virgins dancing wildly in your bean and shouting ‘Allahu Akbar’, you blow up the bus and all the children. You feel all warm and giggly as you snuggle into the arms of Allah, expecting your due – the promised 72 virgins!
But, alas, there has been a terrible mistake. Where beautiful, curvy, warm and arduous female flesh is expected, you are handed six dozen shriveled grapes.
“This is preposterous,” you howl. “I am a jihad warrior, the scourge of the world, feared by all! I blew up a whole school bus full of kids, and my 72 virgins look like dried up goat dung.
“Anybody going to tell me what’s going on?"

Let me know what you think, but I’m pretty sure we’re onto something here.

Monday, July 11, 2016

BO and Olde Mom Hubbard

                The following is an Oldie But Goodie. A nice lady named Susan emailed to request "the                   piece about Old Mother Hubbard and Obama." I had a bit of a time finding it; it turned up in               my book, The Newshawk Reports. Susan, I must say, you have some memory.
                 I’ve decided, after long and arduous contemplation of the issue, there are good points to                 liberalism. I’m just not smart enough to figure out what they are.
     One of the problems is that liberalism is too extreme. Once something takes hold, it grows and grows and grows, ad nauseum. Take the war on poverty, for example. It started with liberals saying they really wanted to help the poor (which is an admirable goal), and, of course, blamed conservatives for poverty. However, through the centuries, it has always been mostly Christian conservatives who have lent helping hands to the less fortunate. They just weren’t as ready to steal the money from others to do it. They did it with their own money.
     One of the poorest people in history was Old Mother Hubbard. She was so poor, a poem was written about her and, now, millions flock to her skirts, a testament to the attraction of being indigent and having realAmericans pay one’s way through life. No rock star, no athlete ever had a larger assemblage of groupies than Old Mother Hubbard.
     Most everyone knows of the poetry written about her: Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard to get her poor doggie a bone. But when she got there, the cupboard was bare, and so the poor doggie got none. Now that’s a sad story, don’t you think?
     But was it really written with poor people in mind? No, it wasn’t. The poor are never in anybody’s mind. It is actually a parody on the attempt of King Henry VIII to procure a divorce from Catherine of Aragon in order to marry Anne Boleyn. (Yeah, I know you think I’m wacked, but it’s true!) Henry needed the approval of the Catholic Church to pull it off and had given the task of negotiations with the pope to Cardinal Wolsey. The cardinal, as we know, failed (otherwise there would be no Protestants) and, consequently, fell into disfavor with Henry. The failure proved a career ender for Wolsey, who was forced to relinquish his sumptuous living quarters and his mistresses, among other valued possessions. So the cardinal became poor and became Mother Hubbard in the famous attempt at poetry. The cupboard referred to the church, the doggie was King Henry, the bone a divorce. So Cardinal Wolsey went to the church to get King Henry a divorce. When he got there, there was no divorce, so Henry couldn’t have one. Make sense now?
     Of course giving our money away in welfare benefits is a corner post in the long fence of liberalism. It is one of the issues that defines the movement, like abortion. Talk of repealing Roe v. Wade will bring he who speaks thusly looks of thinly-veiled suspicion of an ADHD diagnosis.
      Years ago the poor didn’t need liberals to get by, nor would they have accepted too much of their help. Now, the welfare rats scurry in from miles around to feast upon the plump cheese of other people’s money. The few who needed help getting by have become the many who think they have a right to eat for free. Is this where the motto Live Free or Die comes from?
     Meanwhile the country is drowning in red ink. As one might expect it’s the more liberal states that are in the deepest trouble, mostly because of entitlements. I have not heard one governor, not one, of a blue state suggest cutting back on handing out welfare checks to help his or her state balance the books. I’ve wondered if this guy Obama isn’t behind it. His liberalness would not allow a reduction in welfare. Liberals want more of it, not less.  It makes them feel needed and loved and electable.
     Could there be an end to the waste in sight? Let us again wax poetic. What if the president was Mother Hubbard, the cupboard was congress and bones were money? Then: Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard to get more welfare bones. When he bent over, he found that the voters had a few bones of their own.

     That might work. Whadya think?

The Flip Side