Wednesday, October 26, 2016

In Search of the Unlikely

      It’s about that time in the election cycle when politicians of all stripes begin to look at the current administration, and to catalogue its achievements. Those on the Right, in this case, are looking for anything that can be turned into slander and accusations of malfeasance. With the current administration there is a lot of stuff that could be used in this manner, but conservatives are much too “polite” to expose the Left for what it is. (I wonder why).
In the case of the Left, there is lots of casting about for something that can be claimed as a success. Once something of significance is found, there will be lots of crowing and ballyhooing, ranting about what a great president we have in the White House. I realize looking for such illusive things can be very difficult, and, boy, if your job depended on it, now wouldn’t be a good time to sign a lease on a new Cadillac.
I was wandering around in the woods again when I ran into a man and a woman walking a along swinging a Geiger counter in front of them. They were deep in conversation, and as I drew near, I heard the woman say with a worried tone in her voice, “There’s has to be one around here some place!”
“I’m trying, dear, but there just isn’t anything to find.”
“Pardon me,” I said, “what are you looking for?”
“We thought we might be able to detect something of significance accomplished by the current administration. We’re liberals and thought it would be easy, but the more we look, the more we realize there isn’t much to detect,” the commie lib woman said. “Harold, turn the Geiger counter up to a higher sensitivity, and let’s try over there.”
Knowing their search would be fruitless and feeling a little (but not much) sorry for the lost, deluded souls, I let them go their way and continued along the Path of Right. Soon I came upon a man hiding behind a tree and peeking around it, looking toward a farm a distance away. He was wearing a cap with a propeller on top and a pair of rose-colored, owl-frame glasses with lenses as thick as bottle caps. He eyes were beady, he had buck teeth, and he drooled.
I said, “What are you doing here behind this tree?”
“S-h-h-h, quiet,” he said. “You’ll scare it off.”
“Scare what off,” asked I
“I’m a liberal …”
“I could have guessed that.”
“Yeah, well, I’m looking for an accomplishment of the current regime, er, I mean, administration. I thought I saw one over there by the barn.”
“This I gotta see. Come on, sport, I’ll go with you.”
We arrived at the barn and he says, “Do ya see anything?”
“No, but I’m not surprised. They are very rare, you know?”
“Oh, yeah? You must be one of those bigoted homophobes, who don’t like the president because he’s black.”
“No, as a matter of fact I don’t know anybody who doesn’t like the president because he’s black. The president aside, we don’t like his policies or what he stands for. And, we wouldn’t like either of those things if he were white or any other color.”
“So you don’t like any of his accomplishments?” the twit asks.
“Well, there aren’t many. That’s why you can’t find any just laying around; you have to go on safari to catch up to one. In fact, I’m amazed you thought you saw one just now.”
“Okay, smarty pants, how about his role in the assassination of Osama bin Laden? That was great!” he insists, spitting as he talks.
“Yeah, it was great. The press and the White House gave him the credit for it, but, truth be known, he damn near blew the operation by making the SEALS wait so long to shoot the guy.”
“He was great, and there’s lots of other stuff, too. Its around here someplace.” The little propeller was spinning like crazy. “Come on, let’s go across the barnyard to the house.”
We climbed through the board fence (climbing over them is too strenuous). We came upon a dried up cow pie, and I said, “Why don’t you look under there?”
He turned it over with the toe of his hiking boot and sure enough there was the Stimulus. “Ah, ha!” he exclaimed. “ I told ya. Let’s try this cow pie here,” kicking over another one. “Ah, ha. Illegal immigrants! E-e-e-e, ha!”
“Try that one over there,” I said pointing to a freshly deposited cow plop.
He kicked it, and the stuff stuck to this boot. “Yuck! A rigged election!”

“That’s what I say, and, believe me, that’s going to be a tough stink to get off your boot.”

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Racists Are Where You Find Them

The business at the border (probably all of them by now) is typical of this administration – it is unlawful, secretive and being lied about. Why, if the border patrol was ordered to return illegals from whence they came, does the country’s population increase with each reporting of it?
This is of course tacit evidence of the Democrat fear of losing the election. Open borders mean more pinko voters. The fact they are illegal voters means nothing to Democrats. Hillary must be very nervous about now; will she have to pay back the money she took from the many world leaders who fronted her the millions for the presidential run?  I know if I was the president of, say, Egypt and had deposited a few million in the Clinton Crime Family’s Campaign Fund, and Hillary blew the election, I’d demand my money back. I mean, you know, what good is my contribution going to do me if the broad ain’t in the White House. Know what I mean? Tell ya one thing; I would not want to be in the room while the foul- tempered cow is making out return checks.
Meanwhile, illegals, poor, sick and injured alike continue to flood the country. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a heartless Republican. If an illegal is sick or injured, he should be treated before being returned. But returned he should be. The fact the administration is allowing criminals into the country is shameless.
One major problem is that illegals are foreigners, and should a responsible American object to the entry of so many people here illegally, because the illegals are brown, or something other than white, the person objecting is called racist. Let me say, that if you are involved in the illegal entry of nonresidents into the United States, you are a criminal. You have, after all, ignored and broken the law.
I have hopes that sometime very soon the word “racist” will wear thin and be deemed obsolete. That will essentially put a muzzle on the liberal mouths in constant use of it. And haven’t we all grown tired of liberal mouths? I think the word has already lost some of it’s glow.
I wanted to have a chat with BO about this illegal immigrant business and about the proper use of the word racist, so I jumped in the Fredmobile and tooled to Washington, DC, sure that El Semi Uno would be glad to see me. I was wrong.
“Oh, for cryin’ out loud. How’d you get in here?” he asked.
“Oh, that’s no problem, Mr. President. The Secret Service men who were supposed to protect you were at lunch.”
“But it’s only 10 o’clock!”
“Well for heavens sakes.!”
“Anyway, whatchu want, Newshawk?”
“I wanted to speak with you about this business of you and your schmos arranging for all of those illegals entering the country – illegally – and then sending them so quickly and secretly to places they are not expected or wanted, has the whole country upset.”
“Yeah, so? Those objecting will be labeled racists and we’ll pay them no mind.”
“But many of the places they’re being sent can’t afford them. They’re too big a burden on local resources already stressed by your no jobs policy.”
“I have no such policy.”
”Of course you do.”
“Do not!”
“Do so! Oh, I forgot, you’re incapable of telling the truth. Can’t help yourself.”
As I walked toward his desk, I noticed an architect’s drawing lying across it.
“Wow, whatcha building?”
“If you must know, it’s the new mansion I intend to build north of my home city of Chicago, when I leave the presidency."
“You’ll be dropping your pants for George Soros one more time, I take it.”
‘Yes, Good Sweet Daddy George will front the money. I’ve just signed an Executive Order creating Obama Way in Grosse Point, my new ‘hood. It’s sad that several existing properties will be dug up to make room for it; it’s so nice being president.”
“Wowee, the property is huge. It looks as though there is a lot of room around the mansion. I see your new address will be 1600 Obama Way."
At that moment my cell phone rang, and I saw it was a call from my friend Joe the Builder, close friend of Joe the Plumber (most of you remember Joe the Plumber, right?).
“Just a moment, Mr. President, I have to take this call. Hey, Joe, what’s up? Have you found a site near Lake Michigan for the new Immigation Detention Center? No, not yet? Hold on, I think I have just the place. There are empty lots all around 1600 Obama Way in Grosse Point. An ideal site …”
“HEY, HEY,” yelled the president. You can’t dump them people next door to me …”

“You’ve already dumped them on everybody else!. Why, sir! Are you a racist?”

Monday, October 10, 2016

PC Crowd Gives Columbus Fits

      As Columbus Day, the day set aside to honor the great explorer, who is said to have discovered America but really didn’t, approached I began wondering what it would have been like for Chris and his pals when they landed in America that day in October, 1492. What kind of day was it? What sort of inhabitants greeted him? Were they happy to see Chris or upset about him and his crew being there? What if he landed there today? Since, as we all know most anything of importance can be found in the Wimodaughsian Library in Canisteo. I went there and, sure enough, found a DVD of Columbus’ historic landing.  The first scene shows the intrepid captain and his sid.ekick Amerigo debarking a ship’s dinghy and striding up the beach to parley with a welcoming committee of six rather strangely attired natives
     “Wha’choo wont here, sucka?” demanded a black resident.
     “I’m Christopher Columbus, the great explorer, and I’m sailing to the West Indies to find gold, spices and slaves for Queen Isabella. If this is the West Indies, then you must be an Indian.”
     “Oo-oo-oo,” crooned a gay blade, “a real queen! I wonder what sheth like.”
     “Naw, man, I ain’t no Inin,” said the black guy. “That there’s an Inin,” hooking a thumb at a short, chubby guy with long hair. “Only they ain’t called Inins no mo’, they called Native Americans.”
     “And what do they call you?” Chris wanted to know.
     “I’m African-American.”
     “Where’s Africa?”
     “I dunno,” shrugging. “Somewhere.”
     “Why are you all called different things?” asks Chris. “You all live here together, don’t you?” He looked over each one of the group. “So what’s he?” nodding toward the gay guy.
     “He’s gay.”
     “Is that so? Does that mean he’s a happy American?” thinking he was getting the hang of this diversity business
     “Oh, we can be made happy,” giving Chris an appraising eye but not missing the sword slung from his left hip. “But, alas, we’re not happy now,” looking dejected.
     “One wonders what it would take to make you happy,” remarked the explorer.
     “You don’t want to go there!” sneered a member of NOW.
     “Oh, shusth, you, you woman,” angry now, standing arms akimbo. “We have rights, too, you know!” stamping his foot.”
     “Wow,” marveled the environmentalist commie, “ you come across pretty strong for a guy who gets his panties from an egg.”
     “What a drag, man, what rights do you think you have? We the ones that need rights. We need reparations, man,” says the black guy.
     “And we’ll make sure you get them, too,” smirked the chick from the ACLU, “just as soon as we get all the pictures of Jesus out of the schools.”
     “And what will that accomplish?” asks the Catholic captain.
     “Ah, I don’t know,” the chick replied, shrugged her scrawny shoulders, “It’s just what we do. If we didn’t have that to do, we would have to find real jobs.”
     “You make a career of removing from schools pictures of the greatest teacher in the history of the word? What a remarkable way to spend your life,” said Chris. “And what irrelevant matters occupy your mind, my dear,” directing the question to the environmental chick
     “I was wondering, sir, how many little fish you murdered when you walked ashore a few minutes ago. And there you stand, thoughtlessly swatting at indigent bugs that land on you. It’s not their fault you’re here. A typical white bully, that’s what you are, eyes narrowed, a sneer showing a mouthful of crooked teeth appears.”
     “Sorry I asked,” says Chris.
     “Hey, Captain,” yelled a mouth from the NOW crowd. “how many women do you have working on those ships out there,” pointing to the Pinta, the Nina and the Santa Maria bobbing in the bay.
     “What do you want to know for?” asked the captain, suspicious of the nag’s motives, leaning toward her, getting in her face.
     “My group is interested in knowing if women are getting paid the same as men,” spitting the last word, “and that they aren’t being sexually harassed in the kitchen.”
     “If we allowed women on board, Miss Mouth, we would sexually harass them when and where we damned well pleased. I assume women who yammer of such things are attempting to extort doubloons from the people they work for. We respond to that with a good flogging. They never cause us men any trouble after that.”
     “No women on board? What’s the matter, Captain, don’t think women can hoist them sails, coil them ropes, weigh that anchor?” sneering into his face.
     “I’ll bet therth no gay people either,” whimpered the gay Bermudan, “We can hoist and coil and weigh, too,” dabbing some snot off his/her nose and a tear from his/her eye.
     “Lady, the last woman who spoke to me like that ended up as an anchor,” Chris’ face crimson now. “I’m tired of this crap. You!” pointing to the black guy. “Get some men together, chop down some of the those trees over there and build me a cabin.”
     “Whoa, hold on there,” yipped the environmental chick. “You can’t be chopping down those trees for houses. Owls and canaries live there. Where will they go?”
     “How about a different tree? There’s a whole forest of them further down the beach.” Amerigo Vespucci chiming in for the first time”
     “Wha’chu mean, sucka, build a cabin? I ain’t buildin’ no damn cabin. No way! My gub’ment check don’t cover no manual labor.”
     “Mine edder. Me no build no damn cabin, edder,” said the Indian guy.
     “This is some bunch of crackpots, Captain,” whispers Amerigo. “We should toss ‘em all in irons, put gags on them mouthy women, chain Tinkerbell there to the bow in case we lose an anchor.”
     The environmentalist wasn’t done yet: “Whatsa matter, MisterConqueror, don’t think owls and canaries should have rights too? And trees?”
     “Trees have rights?” stammered Chris.
     “And fetuses.”
     “No they don’t!” howled the nag from NOW.
     “Do so!”
     “Do not!”
     “All animals have rights, too,” insisted the tree hugger.
     “Oh, for chrissakes,” howled Chris.
     “So do black folks.”
     “So do Innins, but not as much.”
     “So do criminals. And victims.”
     “Victims? Victims of what?”
     “We need wombs for tranthexuals. It’s not fair …”
     “Ah-ah-ah-ah, let me outta here,” howled the crazed explorer. He and Amerigo parted company with America’s native tribes and sprinted down the beach to their dinghy. “Ho, ho, gotta go!” he yelled as they pushed off and hastily rowed to sea. “Let’s head further down the coast,” suggested Chris, “maybe we can find a kinder, gentler place to discover … maybe someplace with an abortion factory … or having a mass execution … or maybe even an Occupy demonstration. All of which would be friendlier places to discover. Hurry, Amerigo!”

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Casting a Smart Vote

Boy, it's good to be back in the blog chair again. Both my computer and I have had a trying time, especially, the computer; in fact, I just regained the use of it today. I was about to take it out and use it for drone practice.

The people responsible for hurricane relief would do well to keep the money intended for the poor and destitute away from the Clintons.
Following the earthquake that destroyed Haiti in 2010, Bill wormed his way into the job of UN co-ordinator of relief funds and, as you'll remember, wife Hillary was secretary of state, which put her numero uno as far as distributing the money and handing out lucrative contracts. The news was full of great ideas about how Bill and Hill and their filty rich cronies planned to spend the money to lift up the Haitians and rebuild the island. Fat chance of that ever happening. The three billion dollars available to help these people was mostly all stolen by the Clintons and their Democrat pals. All kept secret, of course. Couldn't have we honest Americans knowing about it.
Can you imagine? It's bad enough taking money from wealthy or even middle class people, but these bastards stole the lifeline of the poorest of the poor. The Haitian people were left with nothing. I hope Donald Trump throws this at Hillary in their next debate. If there really are all those thousands of undecided fence sitters - the dumbest of the dumb, perhaps this tidbit will change some minds, no matter how feeble. What the hell, our side will take votes any way we can get them.
I truly wonder if this election is as close as they say it's going to be. To me, it just doesn't seem possible that half (or more) of the country will vote for a criminal, who should be under indictment for multiple crimes. Possibly treason, if those emails were recovered (and since when is a person under investigation allowed to destroy evidence? You try that and see what happens.) Accepting bribes from foreign countries must be a crime. But there's been no noise about that. I would guess that an aggressive investigation and subsequent charges arising from the Bengazi deaths could result in charges of manslaughter. But, no, nothing there. Of course, we must take into account that powers that be are as corrupt as the perpetrator. As long as Obama controls the Justice Department, HRC is safe. If Trump wins, she could be in huge trouble. I, for one, would relish seeing that she is taken to court to face charges for her criminal deeds.
You people who will vote for HRC, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING? DON'T BE A DUMB ASS! The woman has been in public service for thirty-some years and never accomplished a damned thing! Nothing!
Ask yourself: Would you rather have a do-nothing sitting in the White House or elect a man who has built a multi-billion dollar fortune through hard work and industry? Would you rather have a president who steals money and the futures from the poorest people on earth or a president who stands for what is right and good in America? "Let's Make America Great Again!" What a wonderful idea.
In a few weeks we all will decide the future of our country. Let's be smart and not throw it to the dogs.

The Flip Side