Saturday, February 09, 2002

I don't usually steal a link from Instapundit, because everybody has been there and seen that. But THIS ONE was too good to pass up. I am in no danger of violating this idiotic law, thanks to the efforts of a surgeon. But I wish I could.
The reaction to the congressional investigation of Enron is one of total disgust in blogdom. In fact, some of the screeds I have read are so vitriolic that I've had to wipe spittle off my monitor screen before I could move on to the next one. "Contempt of Congress" is a federal crime. It appears to be endemic among bloggers.

The central point seems to be that a bunch of overblown, publicity-seeking assholes who lie, cheat and waste other people's money for personal gain have a lot of nerve to appear on television and barbeque a bunch of overblown, secrecy-seeking assholes who lied, cheated and wasted other people's money for personal gain. The same outraged senators who excoriate Enron executives over crooked accounting schemes have no problem promising to protect the Social Security "trust fund," which doesn't exist except in a crooked accounting scheme. Almost every santimonius hockwad involved in raking Enron over the coals TOOK MONEY from Enron. And when the country achieved a budget surplus, the same "fiscally responsible" spendthrifts blew every spending cap into high orbit and broke out the pitchforks and front-end loaders to throw tax dollars to the wind.

Search my archives for the EXPLODING OPOSSUM story. I believe my prediction was accurate. Congress may believe the Enron "investigation" and the television cameras present a wonderful opportunity to preen and strut in front of voters, but they look a lot like whores to me. And I believe a lot of other people feel the same way.

Friday, February 08, 2002

I am seriously thinking about taking a vacation in Europe this spring. I have the money to pay for it and I've never been, so it seems like a pretty good idea right now. I think I'll land in London first, to acclimate myself to the continent in a place where people speak English (or something CLOSE to my language) and see where the wind blows me from there. It could be an interesting adventure and I am about ready for one.

I don't believe I can link to THIS ARTICLE because it has a code symbol I don't have on my keyboard, but I'll try anyway. (I'll be damned. I just checked and the sucker TOOK!) Read it and you'll know that I'm not only going to Europe for a vacation. I also am going there to prove to the snotty Brit who wrote the article that I am not afraid to fly, I'm not afraid to visit his country and I'm not the only person in America who feels that way. If I can find the little shit while I'm there, I'll punch him square in his aqualine nose and tell him that I AIN'T Sly Stallone or Bruce Willis or any of the other wimps he mentions. I am not an actor. I am a REAL American. Real Americans don't have make-up consultants, publicity flacks, personal trainers and a script to follow whenever they open their mouths. Real American men have BALLS! Even real American WOMEN have balls, compared to what I see from European men, especially the chattering classes who criticize our war on terrorism. Especially the French, who heard President Bush mention an "axis of evil" and immediately surrendered before they realized that they weren't part of the axis.

I once performed in a Savannah Little Theater production of "Foxfire," where I assumed the role of the mandolin player in the lead actor's band, The Stoney Lonesome Boys. The play was fun. But I didn't come away from the experience with a dizzy adoration for actors. I don't understand why so many people believe that actors are something other than pretty puppets or exotic parrots, because that's all they are when they perform. "I'm not a doctor, but I play one on TV" is good enough to sell aspirin, and congress even had the nerve to call Sally Fields, Meryl Streep and that other actress chick I can't recall right now to testify about a farm bill because the women PRETENDED TO BE FARMER'S WIVES in movies. Idiot gasbags in congress who wouldn't know a farm from a loaf of bread may take this crap seriously, but I don't. Neither should the British writer.

I don't believe he could write his hit-piece about the action heros I watched on the screen when I was young. Lee Marvin earned his grizzled hostility as a Marine in the Pacific campaign in WWII. James Arness developed that Matt Dillon limp from a wound to the hip at Anzio. Jimmy Stewart flew 29 bombing missions over Germany. Ted Knight, who played the goofball anchorman on "The Mary Tyler Moore Show" won five Bronze Stars in combat. Charles Durning landed as a foot soldier at D-Day and was bayoneted.

Today's actors may be frightened at the world, but I'm not. I grew up watching a different bunch of people on the screen. And a whole lot of Americans, including ranks of bellicose women, grew up the same way. And we don't take shit from anybody.

Ask Osama.
Bloggers have had a field day attacking the hypocracy of the gasbag politicians grandstanding in the Enron hearings, but few have taken time to mention the absolutely sickening display the usual suspects are putting on over the confirmation of Judge Charles Pickering. An entire deck of race cards is being played, along with witless observations such as this one from the "honorable" Sen Pat Leahey: "You have been reversed by the 5th Circuit at least 26 times. Now either that is because you have followed your personal opinion, or you didn't follow the law, it's gonna be one or the other." Yeah, Pat, you slimeball. After trying more than 4,000 cases, Judge Pickering has been reversed 26 times. You should be so good as a senator.

Of course that bloated toad Ted Kennedy had some valuable input in the "debate." Evidently sober enough to pronounce the words for a change, but as asinine as ever, Kennedy puffed that, "One case, after deciding about the case against the plaintiff, you went on to opine, the fact that a black employee is terminated does not automatically indicate discrimination and that civil rights was not passed to guarantee job security to those employees who do not do their job adequately." Now THERE is a horrible indictment against a man who wants to be a federal judge. Obvious racism! Obvious misunderstanding of civil rights laws!

Obviously, Senator Kennedy is a moron. And Pat Leahey is a... Geez... just read THIS ARTICLE.
I have another ZERO TOLERANCE UPDATE, thanks to Joanne Jacobs. This one is interesting because legislators are attempting the same thing in Georgia and they probably will be shot down by the same people who lobbied against sanity HERE. I believe teachers, principals and other education bureaucrats embrace zero tolerance rules because they are cowards. They don't want to BE RESPONSIBLE for making a decision. Zero Tolerance is their excuse for gutlessness. "Our hands are tied. We have to follow the RULES, you know."

Does Zero Tolerance ensure a safe, productive school environment? Read THIS and tell me what you think. (The "comments" link on this blog actually works!) Of course, no one should be surprised that schools in Washington DC are in such terrible shape because that entire blighted wasteland is in terrible shape from top to bottom, including the federal government.

Thursday, February 07, 2002

Since I was on such a hot streak yesterday, let's see if the Big Bloggers pick up on any of the following tidbits.

A few years ago I rode an Amtrak train from Savannah to Orlando. My son was three years-old at the time and my wife (who was still my darling back then) and I decided that a train ride to Bush Gardens would be a lot better for him than a five-hour car ride. The experience was completely miserable. I knew something was amiss when I went to the club car and ordered a Bloody Mary. They were out of tomato juice. So, I ordered a vodka and grapefruit juice. They were out of grapefruit juice. So, I ordered a vodka on the rocks and, you guessed it, they were out of vodka. Finally, I asked, "WHAT AREN'T YOU OUT OF?" The answer was Budweiser and Miller Lite beer.

We ended up spending most of the trip in the club car anyway, because by the time we reached Jacksonville the club car had the only bathroom on the entire train that wasn't fouled with unflushable human waste, overflowing with human waste or marked "Out of Order."

In Orlando we spent a couple of nervous days watching Hurricane Bertha head toward Florida but we relaxed when it turned northeast and spun harmlessly off into the Atlantic. Bertha was churning somewhere in the ocean about 500 miles off the North Carolina coast when we were supposed to catch the Amtrak back home. But all train travel was cancelled because of the hurricane. There we were, stuck in a train station somewhere in the seamy underbelly of Orlando with our luggage and a whiney three year-old. When I asked for a refund for half of my round-trip ticket fare, I was told that the trip south cost more than the return trip back north and I would receive only 3/4 of the ticket value.

I astutely reminded the ticket agent that any fool could look a a globe and see that going south is DOWNHILL while going north is UPHILL, so how in the hell could the southern leg of this incredible journey cost more than the return trip? "That's just the way it is," she replied. So, I cashed the tickets for what I could get, rode a cab to the nearest rent-a-car establishment and drove home. I beat the Amtrak train by two hours. Well, I beat the SCHEDULED ARRIVAL TIME by two hours, but I actually beat the train by about three days, which is how long it took Amtrak to start running again.

So, in the midst of the Enron mudfight, take a look at the GOVERNMENT VERSION of the same thing.
Would you like chips with that?

Whoever ordered the corn chip supply for the Winter Olympics must type purchase requisitions about as well as I do html code. They ordered 1.3 MILLION bags! And the manufacturer DOESN'T WANT THEM BACK! Go to the Olympics and eat a bag of corn chips. If you don't, the terrorists win.
Heh, heh. Today, Instapundit posted the same link I posted YESTERDAY about the "sisterhood" in congress (it's the blog right below this one). The USS Clueless posted on the bankrupt-a-farmer-to-save-a-suckerfish issue, which I ALSO did yesterday (it's the third blog down from here). If I would clean up my language a bit and stop talking about my bloodless cunt of an ex-wife, I might have a chance to go mainstream.

Wednesday, February 06, 2002

My bloodless cunt of an ex-wife is an upper manager where I work. She makes $20,000 more per year than I do, and she deserves it because she's good at her job and she also has her unemployed, dope-smoking Rent-a-Dick to support. But I know a lot of women who have fine, high-paying jobs that they don't handle very well. But they will remain where they are while other more competent employees are whacked, axed, downsized or otherwise run out of the workplace for the sin of being white men. Every employer who does business with the federal government (which is DAMN NEAR EVERYBODY today) must present the EEOC with all sorts of statistics, charts and graphs to prove that no "discrimination" is involved in hiring and firing practices. Nobody calls this a demand for quotas, but that's what it is. If the local workforce is 47% female and you don't have 47% female employees IN EVERY DEPARTMENT OF YOUR OPERATION, then you obviously must be guilty of blatant sexism. The government has many, many people who find such discrepancies "very, very interesting," as Arte Johnson's Nazi character once said. They may come to find out why you have this "glass ceiling" in your business. If that happens, you're fucked.

That's why I tell my daughter to forget about being a cop and become and engineer. Go into the right line of work and a bearded clam can make the world your oyster.

The federal government created this situation and continues to fine-tune it to achieve maximum power and control over things they really have no business screwing around with. But that's what the federal government seems compelled to do today. Just read THIS CRAP. Do we really elect politicians to spend their days concocting underhanded schemes such as this?

The answer is, "yes."

My daughter is blogging now. Her site is a lot like an open diary (I suppose MINE is, too) but it's not bad compared to some of the absolute drek I encounter in my wanders. IT'S HERE if you would like to see it.
I live in southeast Georgia. I often have considered buying a couple of bug-zappers to hang on my back porch to combat the flying one-fanged vampires that emerge in thirsty swarms every time the weather turns warm, which is almost ALL THE TIME in southeast Georgia. I'm talking about mosquitoes. I don't know of anybody, except maybe some crazed entomologist locked in a lab somewhere dedicating his life to genetically engineering a more efficient blood-sucker, who has any love for those disgusting pests. I wish mosquitoes would all develop a form of mosquito plague and die off. But if that started to happen, the mosquito could become an ENDANGERED SPECIES and their survival would be more important than my own under very strict government regulations. Bureaucrats and biologists, accompanied by a fully-equipped Hostage Rescue Team might just show up at my house, confiscate my bug-zappers and throw me in jail. READ THIS and tell me we don't need to take a long, hard look at the Endangered Species Act.

Tuesday, February 05, 2002

If you've never read THIS GUY,you should. I first discovered James Lileks in the Savannah Morning News a few years ago when they ran one of his op-eds in the Saturday paper every week. I'm not sure what James did to offend the editorial staff or the publisher, but it must have been really bad, because he disappeared and Molly Ivans took his place. Now THAT is an insult. Molly Ivans is a shrill, screaming dingbat. James can be shrill and screaming, but it's usually for a worthy cause and he has a great sense of humor.

I liked his latest bleat because I am a manager in a union environment and I am delighted to discover that I am not the only soul to see today's unions still fighting wars they won 70 or 80 years ago. Every time I go to personnel to answer a grievance, I am attacked as if I were the heartless bastard who locked the fire doors at the shirt factory and killed all those innocent young women. The stewards must read Molly Ivans a lot.

I was born and raised for my most formative years in Harlan County, Kentucky. I owned a coonskin cap and I wore it with pride when I was six years old. Daniel Boone and Davey Crockett were (and still are) two of my greatest heroes. I am not the kind of person who tortures hourly employees, violates safety regulations and hopes to kill a few people on the job the first chance I get. I just try to "be sure you're right, then go ahead." I deal frequently with OSHA regulators, too. THAT'S the line of work Molly Ivans should be in. She has the personality, the intelligence and the malevolence to rise right to the top of THAT profession, which she will never do in writing because she is a shrill, screaming dingbat.

Anyway, I digress. Read James and wish him well in establishing his new site.
MY TRASH CAN ARRIVED TODAY!!
I sometimes develop a severe headache reading the hand-wringing, hair-pulling, teary-eyed predictions of IMPENDING DOOM from environmentalists. Look at THIS ONE for example. The Great Barrier Reef and all the cute, fuzzy Koala bears are GONNA DIE if we don't act now to stop global warming. Of course, THIS ARTICLE was published the same day. One is filled with gloom and despair based on predictions from super-computer climate models, and the other points out that the super-computer climate models don't include data on how clouds affect the weather. Who are you gonna believe?

Obviously, a great many people still believe the climate models, especially politicians shamelessly courting environmental activists for money and support. A great gas bubble is forming in the lower bowels of Congress right now about increasing the CAFE (fuel efficiency) standards for cars and trucks. This impending flatulence may erupt at any minute and the stench will be incredible. But it may pass even though it stinks to high heaven. Studies show that increasing vehicle gasoline MPG requires building lighter cars. Lighter cars kill people in traffic accidents when they really didn't need to die. But no sacrifice is too great to SAVE THE EARTH! Just watch for the usual suspects in shoving this idiocy down America's throat: environmentalists (democrats and socialists), those who pander to environmentalists (democrats) and those too ignorant to understand what's going on (democrats and socialists). Just read THIS STORY, which is short and sweet, or THIS ONE, which is more the kind of rant I would write about the idea. Who cares if this legislation kills you in a car wreck? It's saving the planet. And this idea will be the lynchpin of a democrat "energy policy" even though the original CAFE standards passed in the '70s have resulted in increased gasoline consumption. But if you don't drive with your knees under your chin in a modified beer can that gets 80 MPG, the terrorists will have won.

Global warming will kill us all eventually, whether the earth warms or not, especially if the breathless worriers have their way. We'll, starve, freeze or die in car wrecks.

Monday, February 04, 2002

Damn if the Patriots didn't win AGAIN, even on Playstation II. 27-24 this time, but I believe the hoary finger of destiny poked up Fortune's nose searching for the golden booger of life and found it with the Patriots. Their victory was meant to be. I admit that a certain symmetry is obvious. After 9/11, what could possibly be more fitting? The team of red, white and blue underdogs defied all odds and became world champions. It's an American success story, and I should applaud, which I will since I didn't bet on the game. But the Rams' offense is a lot like our military-- swift, stealthy and famous for bombing the opposition into submission. I rooted for the Rams. But some very effective domestic defense issues decided that game and the Patriots won, fair and square.

I hope Osama was watching. It was an All-American Super Bowl, featuring all the character traits that envious, beady-eyed, bearded dorkles hate about this country. Swift bombers played against tough defense, with cool heads abundant on both sides. The Missle Shield worked for the Patriots, and in the end they KICKED their opponents into oblivion. The game was a great analogy for what terrorists face when they piss off Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam has all the tools to mess up anything you throw at him. He can be tough and implacable, or he can be aggressive and dangerous. He can hunker down and defend against you, or he can bomb the living daylights out of you. And even the SECOND BEST he throws against you can kick the shit out of anything you've got.

And the show went on with all the glitter and glitz America lavishes on such affairs. It was a great game and an IN YOUR FACE statement about this country.

Be afraid, Osama. Be VERY afraid.
Good grief! That jogging guy just trotted past my house in the twilight. He's heading into a 35 mile-per-hour arctic wind and seems absolutely delighted with himself in his tee shirt, shorts and running shoes. Any minute, I hope to see him tumbling back the way he came, going ass over tea kettle the way my lawn furniture must have done when it blew into the neighbor's yard today. Anyone who jogs in weather such as this needs a serious psychological examination.

I'll bet the witless twit is an ENVIRONMENTALIST, too.
A cold wind has been ripping through Georgia. All my lawn furniture blew into my neighbor's yard today and I wished for a chin strap to keep my hardhat on at work. The wind chimes are making a joyful noise on the back porch, but I keep hearing ghostly moans when the wind whistles through the vinyl siding outside my window. It's a good evening to stay inside.

My son is here, replaying the Super Bowl on his Playstation II. He plans to get it right this time. He's running the Rams and he's ahead 10-0 in the first quarter, which is the way it SHOULD have gone last night. I'm just glad I didn't bet on that game.

I believe we will have fish and shrimp for supper and go to bed early. It's cold and windy outside.
Joanne Jacobs has been ON A ROLL with her delightful site. It's well worth a lengthy visit.
Would you looky here! THE LEGAL EAGLE is a couple of days behind me discovering the story about the "let's roll" lawsuit. BWAHAHAHAHA!

I ALSO BEAT HIM TO THE PUNCH ON HIS SECOND STORY, TOO!

Sunday, February 03, 2002

Here's another STEAMING PILE OF DOGSHIT I stepped in while walking through blogdom.
"Let's roll."

I've used those words many times before 9/11 to encourage friends to follow me on great adventures or to persuade them to leave places where we were about to encounter serious trouble. I thought the term was as American as apple pie, which is why it resonated so well when a group of heroes used those words, then stood up to their hijackers and crashed the plane they were riding in. Before it reached its target. Before anyone else died. Before the terrorists won.

Now, the words are UP FOR GRABS in a copyright fight. I don't believe anybody is the good guy in this story.
Did you know that someone dies from the effects second-hand smoke every 23 seconds in this country?

OF COURSE YOU DIDN'T "KNOW!" I MADE THAT CRAP UP! But idiotic statements such as mine are reported as fact over and over again by a press that either is too lazy to check the numbers or too willing to run with them because they fit the right agenda. Gun control morons, date-rape scaremongers, anti-smoke Nazis, environmental dingbats and a host of other single-issue advocates simply pull such "statistics" out of thin air, throw them to a hungry press and stand back while the barracudas feed. And a lot of people actually BELIEVE this nonsense.

Think of all the children who have been poisoned by TAINTED HALLOWEEN CANDY and you'll get the picture.

Someone is killed by a handgun every 5 seconds in this country.
Another endangered species disappears from the planet every 10 seconds in this country.
A woman is the victim of domestic abuse every 15 seconds in this country.
And second-hand smoke kills another non-smoker every 23 seconds in this country.

You can't argue with numbers such as those.