Saturday, December 31, 2011

Happy New Year!



No predictions, no retrospective "10 best/worst" lists. Just a prayer:

May God bless our valiant troops and grant them victory. May He also have mercy on the souls of those troops who have died, and give comfort to their families and their friends. And may He heal those wounded in body and spirit.

God bless my readers and their families, and may the coming year bring them happiness, good health and prosperity.

May God give us the wisdom and the determination to extricate ourselves from the coils of an expansive and parasitical State in this critical election year.

* * * * * * * * *

Good luck to all, and don't miss watching the big event, tonight.

No, no; not the dropping of the big red ball in Times Square. The dropping of the giant Moon Pie in Mobile, Alabama.

Update - Sunday funny: Occupy Lego!

The envelope, please...

Doug Ross has posted his "2011 Fabulous 50 Blog Award Winners", and I was surprised and gratified that my George Washington bit won "Post of the Year". Many thanks, Doug!

You should drop by Doug's place and check out all the winners. I was particularly amused at some of the booby prizes, particularly this trio:

The David Brooks Award for Demi-Conservatism: David Frum
The David Frum Award for Faux Conservatism: Jennifer Rubin
The Jennifer Rubin Award for Pseudo-Conservatism: David Brooks

Friday, December 30, 2011

Legacy



(Gratefully pinched from Moonbattery)

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Happy Feet Friday

Fats Waller and Ada Brown team up on "That ain't right" (from Stormy Weather).

George Washington writes a letter to President Obama



Dear Mr. President:

Although it is two hundred years, and more, since I laid down the cares of an eventful temporal existence and took up residence in my long home, Our Gracious Lord has seen fit to bestow upon my spirit the gift of perpetual cognition, and He has granted the further boon of permitting me, for a few moments, to assume sufficient corporeality to pen this letter, which I place before Your Excellency as the cri de coeur of a patriot whose efforts on behalf of his country have been deemed by its citizens to possess no little significance.

I have watched, frequently with pride and joy, occasionally with grave misgivings and sadness, the arc of our country’s history over two centuries, since those of my generation first established that Orchard of Liberty on the North American continent that would become the envy of the world. Over many seasons that Orchard has borne good fruit, and has flourished in the golden light of our Sacred Constitution. In evil times, this Arboreal Garden has been watered with the blood of heroes, which sustenance has served to make it even hardier and more prolific.

Imagine my consternation then, Sir, when I look upon our Orchard today, and see the fruit withering on the branch, the crowns blighted, and the whole cloaked in the gauzy shrouds of assiduously destructive bagworms. How slothful and inattentive have become the arborists who constitute what my friend Thomas Jefferson referred to as our natural aristoi! What bovine complacency has afflicted a once alert and industrious citizenry! And – Your Excellency will pardon the boldness of one who was present at the creation – what pernicious and invidious husbandry doth your own administration display!

Under the sanction of what right, divine or human, do you and those of your faction undertake to transform a free people into a herd of lowing cattle? By what law, constitutional or legislative, do you and your like-minded philosophes propose to turn a great nation into a vast ward for the feeble-witted, or a prison for three hundred millions of debtors? You join with hordes of warlike Musselmen to beset our Hebrew brethren with chimerical demands, your Department of Justice - Justice, sirrah! – has taken pride of place amongst the criminal caste, and everywhere your rapacious clerks and petit judges harass honest citizens with encroachments on their liberties from which even His Late Majesty, George the Third, would have recoiled in disgust.

Our Garden is become a tangled bed of weeds and thorns as those of your school have beggared the working man, and stood as highwayman to the banker and merchant. Our system of public education is like unto an academy for the teaching of treason, and a university for the manufacture of a large class of impertinent mendicants for whom the taxpayers must serve as unwilling almoners in perpetuity. And you strive, through cunning and secret stratagems, to disarm the people, thereby subjecting them to the caprice of an all-powerful central government, in one stroke imposing tyranny and depriving the citizenry of the capacity for resisting it.

In spite of this accumulation of political felonies, you have had the temerity, the astonishing rind, to posit an intellectual and spiritual kinship with several of your distinguished predecessors. I note, with considerable relief, that you have not as yet presumed to impute to me the same act of bastardy with which you have sought to malign the honor of these illustrious gentlemen. I caution you never to do so, for, in the event, I would bargain with Almighty God that I should pass an hundred years in purgatory in exchange for the grace of an hour in which to call upon you, to offer the choice of sword or pistol.

Your most obedient servant,

George Washington

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Oh, no!

We've got some worrisome security leaks.

First, bitter presidential clinger Manuel Zelaya of Honduras finds out about the secret Jew rays, and now Hugo Chavez has uncovered the CIA cancer sauce.

This, however, has been declassified: Kim Jong-Il's last words...


"Thanks for the Cabernet, son. By the way, why does it taste like almonds?"

Is Mitt Romney just John McCain with hair?

I don’t mean to suggest a similarity of temperament or judgment. The question occurs to me solely in the context of electability.

The situation is far different now than it was in November of 2008, of course. John McCain suffered from a number of disadvantages, not the least of which was a campaign in which instances of ineptitude on the part of himself and his staff frequently manifested themselves at inopportune moments like so many dead goldfish floating to the surface of a stagnant ornamental pond during an outdoor wedding reception. McCain’s biggest drawback, however, was his ill-disguised hostility to the conservative base, and the lingering fear among many conservatives that, in any contest with Democrats in Congress, McCain’s almost totemic veneration for compromise would encourage him to sell his – and his fellow citizens’ - birthright for a mess of pottage.

And then there was the spectacle of Barack Obama, sailing along easily on the trade winds of a story-book liberal narrative, crafted by his political machine and assisted by an adoring media. He was the healer, the “light worker”, the cosmopolitan brainiac who would miraculously cure the ills of the planet and its peoples, the man who was so conspicuously not George Bush. Possessing nothing in the way of tangible accomplishments, he was nonetheless armed with the indispensable tools of success in this know-nothing era : an obscure history buried under a mountain of hagiographical applesauce, a sonorous baritone and the borrowed trappings of a divine afflatus. It was all so impressive, so momentous, so promising, so…transparently fraudulent - but this last, unfortunately, only to voters who were both (1) paying attention and (2) not entirely unmoored from common sense (which is why, in the end, I grudgingly cast my vote for McCain, the lesser, by far, of two evils).

Fast forward, and today it is clear that even many of Obama’s dizziest fans, fetched early during his skyrocketing rise to national fame by all the glittering hype, have figured out that he is not a high lama of the Yellow Hats or the 12th imam, so his campaign for reelection has been brought back down to earth and is now taking the form of traditional demagoguery, garden variety mendacity and government baksheesh scattered among his well-heeled donors and favored constituencies. The economy limps along under the crushing weight of excessive government borrowing, unemployment is maddeningly high, the leftist satraps of the executive branch’s far flung regulatory network continue to chip away at our liberty, the Department of Justice has assumed a high place among our leading criminal enterprises, and the world beyond our shores is an increasingly dangerous environment in which this administration’s diplomats have proved to be ominously unsure guides.

In short, the banner of leftist ideology, carried by its boldest and most well-favored champion, has been shot to doll rags by reality, and there is a yearning among the people for a return to truth, justice and the American way. But is Romney Superman?

I am skeptical. While Romney’s organization is more competent and efficient that McCain’s ever was, his historical flip-flopping on a number of issues, and present reluctance to tip his hat to, let alone embrace, the concept of genuinely limited government, have cast him in the role of the much-maligned RINO. Does he have deep-seated beliefs – in anything – or is he truly a mere weathervane of establishment opinion? I have written before about the tendency of “moderate” Republicans to content themselves with serving as nothing more than a mass of barnacles on the Ship of State, slowing down, but not altering the course, of our apparently ineluctable voyage to socialism. Does Romney have settled conservative convictions, and the courage to defend them? Or is he just the Un-Obama?

Because if he’s simply the latter, I’m not sure that’s going to be enough. Romney has been running for president for years, and has never been able to break out of the 25% range of support among Republicans - largely, I believe, because of the slipperiness of his worldview. Is he really the person we want to send into the ring to duke it out with a weary, but still determined, foe? One who, moreover, is not averse to delivering rabbit punches and who will draw strength and confidence from a cheering press section?

Mark Levin has stated on many occasions that he would vote for a can of orange juice if that were the only alternative to Obama. So would I, and so will I vote for Romney if he is the Republican nominee – after all, if nothing else, at least he doesn’t burn with a desire to remake the country according to the hallucinatory visions of Richard Cloward and Frances Piven. But, aside from the absence of radical impulses – and even that virtue is suspect, given RomneyCare and the candidate’s refusal to back away from the individual mandate (which is akin to spiking one of our biggest guns in next year's battle, incidentally) - does Romney have more positive substance than the otherwise delightful breakfast beverage? And if not, will he still be able to beat Obama? In the meantime, I pray for a boost in the fortunes of Santorum or Perry or even Gingrich.

Update: Bryan Preston - a Romney endorser who isn’t reluctant to criticize the candidate – has some thoughtful observations on the Republican field.

Australia: one endless struggle between man and beast

Elvis the crocodile steals a lawnmower (H/T: Mrs. Paco).

How do I despise thee, let me count the ways

It’s a target-rich environment, but Aaron Goldstein does a good job sharpening our focus on the worst of Obama, 2011. Here, for example, he marvels at the president’s excessive amour propre:
There were also times when President Obama could have used a touch of modesty. It might have spared him the embarrassment of talking through "God Save The Queen" at Buckingham Palace. But as long as Obama can tell his supporters with a straight face, "If you love me, you got to help me pass this bill," pats himself on the back for doing more for Israel's security than any other administration in history while claiming he's accomplished more in the first two years of his Presidency than anyone "with the possible exceptions of Johnson, F.D.R., and Lincoln," then one can only conclude that modesty just isn't in the man's repertoire.
Readers may have their own ideas concerning the lowest low points attained by the preshizzle in the year of Our Lord, 2011. Feel free to sound off in the comment section.

I thought he died decades ago

Cheetah, Tarzan's chimpanzee, has just died at age 80 (H/T: Hot Air).

Here's a short clip of Cheetah contributing to the war effort.



Update: Story possibly fraudulent.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Assortment

Jingle Bells as you’ve never heard it before, featuring Santa and his trusty Colt 1911.

“Captain, I fail to see the logic in a republican form of government”. Obama denies that he’s “Spock-like”.

Clean that up! A store clerk – bearing the marvelous name of Derek Mothershead – knocked out a robber, then made him clean up his own blood when he came to.

Bill Maher, still bitter over the fact that nature has endowed him with a face that looks like a scrotum, keeps plumbing the depths of his own vileness, searching – futilely, I suspect - for the bottom.

Steve Burri spots a major design flaw in the Chevy Volt.

They’ve finally found a way to make cricket more interesting.

Living in Northern Virginia, surrounded by Democrats. Working in Washington during one of the most incompetent, left-wing administrations in history. I tell you, sometimes I feel just like this guy…


Title of article: "Weasels ripped my flesh"

(H/T: Retronaut)

Monday, December 26, 2011

Another great moment that should be enshrined in TSA's Hall of Fame

A TSA security officer in Nevada seizes a "suspicious" cupcake.

So long, and thanks for the fish

The late Kim Jong-Il bequeaths the gift of fish to his hungry subjects (triggering more tears of joy).
…the deceased leader worked with his "heart and soul" to supply the people with fresh fish all year round, giving tireless field guidance.
"Field guidance"? You mean like this?



The Canadian delegation to the UN, unmoved by the generosity of the Great Fish Giver, walked out when that august body observed a moment of silence for the late North Korean dictator (H/T: Captain Heinrichs).

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Merry Christmas!




Best wishes, from me and Mrs. Paco and Detective Paco and Sheila and J.P. and Spurgeon and the Norwegian-American Republican Association and Brad Smilo et al, for a great Christmas and a prosperous and happy New Year!

The three wise men



The titan of industry sat placidly behind his antique Empire desk, his head resting against the back of his chair. An Hoyo de Monterrey Excalibur cigar jutted like a punctuation mark from his smiling lips, and his hands were clasped comfortably over his expansive waistcoat. A jeweled music box played his favorite tune – “I’m in the Money” – and he looked back with satisfaction on another year of solid financial achievement. In short, he was, as usual, rolling in the stuff, and he radiated silent contentment.

There was a soft knock on the pocket doors of the library, which subsequently opened to reveal the prepossessing figure of that nonpareil gentleman’s personal gentleman, Spurgeon (known as “The Great” among the lesser mortals of the servants’ quarters). He advanced toward the desk with a bearing that resembled the dignified enthusiasm of a Minister of the Interior, approaching his sovereign with news of a major oil strike in some heretofore barren and worthless province. In fact, there was a gleam in his eye which might justifiably have been described as merry.

“You have a caller, sir. A Mr. Claus. Or rather, to employ the far more appropriate definite, as opposed to indefinite, article, the Mr. Claus. He begs a few moments of your time.”

J. Packington Paco III beamed, and, removing the cigar from his mouth, flourished it in the manner of one of the late Napoleon Bonaparte’s Marshals, displaying his baton of office before his cheering troops. “Shoot the jolly old elf in, Spurgeon, by all means!”

J.P. rose to receive his guest as he entered the room; however, he was nonplussed to see that, far from being jolly, his visitor displayed signs of anxiety and woe. His bushy white eyebrows were drooping in a snowy frown, and he was practically wringing his red cap in his hands. As he drew near, J.P. registered the smell of strong spirits, leading him to conclude that the famous nose – “like a cherry”, as the poet says - might, on this occasion at least, be drawing its blush from an overindulgence in cherry brandy.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Claus. May I offer you some refreshment?”

“Well…maybe just a little hair of the arctic fox that bit me. And please, call me Santa.”

Spurgeon, standing tall and silent in the offing, rather like an Egyptian sarcophagus in a swallowtail coat, glided to the drink tray and poured a small sherry, which he presented to Santa.

“Oh, thank you, my good man! I’ll be frank with you, Mr. Paco, I’ve really been up against it this year. The reindeer came down with cutaneous fibromas, and, while that doesn’t really do them much harm, it gives them big warts that mess up their aerodynamic qualities. Mrs. Claus has been laid up with the gout, so I’ve been making do with peanut-butter sandwiches instead of the usual home-cooked meals. But my main problem is those damned elves. They got organized by the Service Employees International Union this year and went on strike – naturally, at the beginning of my peak season. I hired some scabs – mostly journeymen carpenters from Honduras, and a few out-of-work electronics geeks from Silicon Valley – but some of the elves broke into the shop one night, stole most of the tools and sabotaged the machinery. So, now I’m faced with a major inventory shortage, just days before the big delivery. That’s why I’m here, in fact. I say, this is splendid sherry! May I have another drop?” Spurgeon materialized from the shadows, bottle in hand.

J.P. tut-tutted sympathetically. “You certainly have run afoul of Dame Fortune, Santa. How may I oblige you?”

“I’m thinking that if you could float me a loan – say, a six-month demand note for a couple of million dollars – I could purchase the rest of what I need from Amazon.”

“But, my dear fellow, why not just buy what you need from Paco Enterprises? We manufacture thousands of products, and I’m sure we could fix you up with some short-term supplier credit.”

Santa, gasping in horror at the suggestion, choked on his sherry. He recalled that time, a few years ago, when his wife had presented him with a Perdurable Automatic Cocktail Oscillator as an anniversary gift. They had never been able to completely remove the vermouth stain from the ceiling.

*Hack*…*Cough-cough*… Thank you,” he said to Spurgeon. “That well-timed blow between the shoulder blades seems to have done the trick. No, thank you, Mr. Paco. Er, most of the requests I’ve received are for specific brands of products made by other companies. Strange, but there it is.”

“Well, you must suit yourself. Let’s see, now. We may be able to come to terms. But there is one thing that baffles me.”

“And that is?”

“I’m puzzled as to the source of repayment. You distribute gifts, do you not?”

“That’s right.”

“Which means that you don’t get paid. How do you propose to repay the loan?”

Santa looked over his shoulder, then leaned in closer to speak in a confidential manner with J.P.

“You see, the truth is, I’ve got a very profitable sideline: selling polar bear skins on the black market. Pots of money in it. But for obvious reasons, I don’t want that to get around. Reputational risk, you understand.”

“Ah, yes, I see. Admirably enterprising, I must say. All right then. How about this: a six-month demand note, at Libor plus, say, six percent?”

What!?! Six percent over Libor? I’ve got a darned good D&B rating. Have you seen it? I’m not some silk-screen t-shirt printer operating out of his garage!”

“And,” J.P. continued, contemplating the chandelier, “I’ll need a mortgage on your North Pole facility, along with a first security interest in the furniture, fixtures and inventory. Oh, and a lien on your livestock.”

“That sounds plenty inflated, to me!” Suddenly, Santa sat back in his chair and smiled for the first time since entering J.P.’s sanctum santorum. He began to study his fingernails intently. “Not only does that deal sound extortionate. I might almost characterize it as…naughty.” He reached into a pocket and withdrew a long list. Putting his spectacles on, he began reading it, uttering the word, “Paco”, repeatedly, in a stage whisper. After a while, he shook his head. “No, I don’t seem to see…”

J.P. erupted in one of his booming laughs. “Mwaha! Gad, sir, you are a character, if I may say so. I sense a kindred soul, I do indeed. Why, I bet our ancestors may well have sailed the Spanish Main together, under the black flag. I’ll tell you what; I’ll drop the collateral requirements and reduce the rate to Libor plus three. I can’t say fairer than that. Have I your hand on the deal, sir?”

Santa frowned meditatively for a few moments, and then smiled. He extended a mitt to J.P., and the two men pumped one another’s hands heartily.

Later, after the smoking of several cigars, the emptying of a decanter of brandy, and a departure embellished with mutual wishes for a merry Christmas and a prosperous New Year, Santa was walking out the front door when Spurgeon stayed him with an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Pardon me, Mr. Claus, but I wondered if I might take the liberty of submitting a request. You see, what with the heavy press of duty, I have been unable to address any correspondence to you in the customary form.”

“Why, it’s no trouble at all! Now, let me see,” Santa said, looking Spurgeon up and down. “What shall it be? The Oxford edition of Charles Dickens’ novels? Or perhaps a 10 ga goose gun?”

“Either would be a possession in which one would take great pride; however, I was thinking more along the lines of one of Gina Elise’s pinup calendars. You know, there’s a war on, sir.”

Santa winked. “Your patriotism and your admiration for feminine pulchritude do you credit, Spurgeon. Consider it done. And now, Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!”

Wake me when it's over

Here's a little musical tribute to Obama, based on his recent admission in an interview with Barbara Walters.

Rat infestation at Occupy DC

No, I mean the four-legged variety. And in addition to the Hamas and Hezbollah flags mentioned in the linked article, I also saw a black and red anarchist flag lazily flapping in the breeze the other day (anarchists for government bailouts; go figure). But perhaps the most appropriate flag of all I've seen there is the skull and crossbones.

Friday, December 23, 2011

It's Christmas Eve in Australia

So you blokes and sheilas get your own special Christmas greetings from the Pacos!

Best wishes to the natives of my spiritual second home.



Update - Question: What's that little critter on the left side of the picture?

Christmas stories

Quin Hillyer at the American Spectator has a moving article about the appearance of grace in some unlikely times and places.

A young man - injured in a car crash, brain dead and in a coma – wakes up a few hours before doctors were going to take him off life-support and harvest his organs.

Mark Steyn celebrates a handful of forgotten Christmas movie classics.

An 80-year-old grandmother in Florida lays into a gun-toting robber with her cane. Here’s granny demurely describing the situation:
An 80-year-old grandmother in Florida successfully fended off an armed attacker who was attempting to rob her 61-year-old daughter.

Josefa Lopez told the Sentinel Sun she felt "no fear" when she used her aluminum cane to fight off the gunman who had physically assaulted her daughter.

"I thought she was dead," Lopez said in Spanish. "I yelled at [the gunman], 'I am going to kill you, [son of a b----]!'
I salute you, granny, for your lion-like bravery. But you might want to upgrade your hardware.

Finally, when you finish up with all the Christmas festivities, you might want to plop down on one of these, for some much-needed rest (H/T: Jill).

Marooned in Iowa

James Lileks joyfully fisks the gaseous prose and big-city snobbery of a journalism professor in Iowa (H/T: Ed Driscoll). Go ahead. Treat yourself.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Happy Feet Friday

Chuck Berry performs "Run, Rudolph, Run" (audio).

Politics – Open Thread

There’s a whole lot of sniping going on among conservatives about the Republican presidential candidates. Not a surprise, given the rise of the new media, and, overall, I think vigorous debate is a healthy thing (although I do worry a bit about how much of the snark is going to wind up as sound bites in Obama’s campaign ads next year). My own campaign has failed to gain traction; unfortunately, most respondents to my research team’s surveys seem to think that paquismo is some kind of spicy salsa dip. Sensing this, the competition has been swamping me with invitations to throw my support behind one candidate or another. For example, I recently received a letter from Mitt Romney:

Dear Paco:

You’ve run a great race, but since I’m destined to win the nomination anyway, why not associate yourself with the in-crowd right now? I will need a man with your vast international experience to assist my foreign policy team, perhaps in an ambassadorial role, particularly since there is much work to do in repairing our relationship with, shall we say, Monaco? Take a day or two to think it over. But don’t delay too long – I might change my mind.

Warmest personal regards,

Mitt


Then I got an email from Newt Gingrich:

Dear Paco:

I would like to invite you to join forces with my presidential campaign. Together, we can rekindle the vision of the founding fathers, the dream of a nation dedicated to personal freedom and rooted in veneration for the original precepts of our sacred constitution.

If that doesn’t work, we can fall back on Plan B, under which I will seize the government, establish a junta and arrest the Supreme Court. I think you would be ideal as the Governor-General of Florida, incidentally.

Best wishes,

Newt


Ron Paul telephoned and left a message on my answering machine. At first I thought it was my Aunt Peaches, calling to complain about her swollen feet, but I quickly discovered my mistake.

Paul: Hi, Paco. You know, this campaign is exhausting! This is the first time I’ve had a minute to sit down and put my feet up in weeks. Anyway, you’ve no doubt been watching the news, and you’ve seen how my faithful Paul-bots have been helping me build momentum. I’ve got a proposition for you: come join me, and I’ll find a nice spot for you on the domestic side of government. Unless you’re ready to renounce all that Zionist nonsense, in which case I might be willing to give you some kind of international posting – maybe ambassador to Iran. Call me.

Rick Perry simply sent me a cowboy hat with a hand-scribbled note: “Merry Christmas, Pancho!”

Well, I’m still thinking ‘em all over (and by “all”, I mean “not quite all”).What’s the word out there in Paco Nation?

A glimpse of Bedlam

Shane Smith – whose video about North Korean slave-labor camps in Russia I linked previously – also managed to get inside the very heart of darkness. Seraphic Secret has links to three fascinating videos of Smith’s visit to “crazy land”. These are longish clips, but well worth the time.

Another czar(ina)?

Did you know that we have an “Ambassador-at-Large for Global Women’s Issues”? Well, thanks to Smitty, now you do.

And Don Surber comes up with an absolutely classic line: “The second term of Jimmy Carter is going about as well as the first one.”

The Department of "Justice" (ha ha)

There's Fast and Furious, of course, plus the decision to ignore voter intimidation by the New Black Panthers. Now, we've got a failure to fire or even discipline a perjured DOJ employee - could it be because the current administration finds her politics congenial?
Ms. Gyamfi made no secret of her hatred of conservatives and Republicans when I worked in the Voting Section from 2001 to 2002. Later, when I moved to the Civil Rights Division’s front office, she had a difficult time hiding her contempt any time she was forced to meet with the political leadership. In revelations now known throughout the Voting Section, she apparently went beyond hatred and resorted to flagrantly violating Justice Department confidentiality requirements and ethical obligations. It is now common knowledge in the Section that she lied about her actions to Inspector General investigators and was caught in the lie with e-mail documentation.


Update: The rot at DOJ runs deep.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

The dark side of Vaclav Havel

As seen by a Stalinist stooge at the Guardian.
Havel's anti-communist critique contained little if any acknowledgement of the positive achievements of the regimes of eastern Europe in the fields of employment, welfare provision, education and women's rights. Or the fact that communism, for all its faults, was still a system which put the economic needs of the majority first.
That’s right; you can’t accomplish any of these things without the benefit of a police state. Which just goes to show how ungrateful the masses are, incidentally. So ungrateful that communist regimes literally have to fence them in to keep them from escaping to capitalist hell holes - for their own good, mind you.

(H/T: Darleen Click at Protein Wisdom)

Now, I’m not saying that communism hasn’t produced a few prodigies. For example, we are just now learning what a fabulous athlete the late Kim Jong Il was:
Despite the minor obstacle of, you know, zero coaching or course experience, Kim used his divine powers -- he was, after all, officially known as both the Glorious General Who Descended From Heaven and the Ever-Victorious Iron-Willed Commander -- to piece together an exquisite round of 38 for 18 holes at Pyongyang’s 7,700-yard championship course.

The feat included five magnificent holes-in-one and it appears that Kim subsequently decided his 31-under-par achievement was enough to solidify his legacy and rarely played afterwards. Perhaps for the sake of our perception of golf’s legend, it is just as well. Jack Nicklaus’ career hole-in-one tally of 20 seems humble by comparison, and had Kim continued at his early pace, he would have surpassed the Golden Bear within a week.
Even this feat was not really that big a deal, though. I mean, have you ever seen the Pyongyang golf course? Check out the fourth hole.



They’re all like that. Five holes-in-one? Sounds like an off day, to me.

Update:



(H/T: Don Surber)

I am warmenist, hear me roar!

I don’t know if anyone is keeping a comprehensive list, but these are some of the things being held out by various cli-fi barkers as having been caused by global warming:

Snow
Rain
Floods
Droughts
Heat waves
Cold snaps
Tornados
Hurricanes
Dead polar bears
Melting glaciers
Al Gore’s successful dodging of complete obscurity (I believe that one)

And – an interesting new addition - man-eating lions

Wisconsin’s slave labor camps

Did you know that thousands of Wisconsinites are confined within barbed-wire compounds, where, huddling under tin-roofed sheds in all kinds of weather, they are forced to make head cheese and Green Bay Packer pennants against their will?

Neither did I, but I assume that’s what lawyer Vince Megna is getting at when he compares the state to North Korea.

(H/T: Overlawyered)

Speaking of North Korea, I'd like to honor Kim Jong Il with some properly elegiacal music, courtesy of the two Louis's, Armstrong and Jordan.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Honoring a false prophet

The national Christmas tree doesn’t appear to have any ornaments referencing the Person whose birth we are supposed to be celebrating, but it does have an ornament that says “I ♥ President Obama”.

So, have a happy Oba-mas, everyone! Since there are still a few shopping days left, might I suggest the following fine products from Progressive Alternatives to Christmas Online?

- Blank wills, ready to fill in, make great stocking-stuffers for those aging grandparents who will shortly be getting subpoenaed by a federal death panel lifetime-acceleration committee. And be sure to tell grandpa and grandma not to forget to leave a little something to Obama’s campaign fund! In return, they will receive weekly inquiries from the president, himself, concerning their health and actuarial outlook during the upcoming election year.

- Saving the planet is important all year round, even during the holidays. Stop giving Gaia a hot foot with those old fashioned bulbs and candles and stock up on LED lights (available in two lovely shades of green: Amazon Rainforest and Goretreuse).

- Recycling is everyone’s responsibility – but it can be aesthetically, as well as psychically, pleasing! This year, spruce up your Hope and Change tree with beautiful, handcrafted paper ornaments made from recycled McCain-for-President posters. Each ornament depicts a key episode in the life of Barack Obama: smoking a blunt behind his grandmother’s utility shed; attending the initial fundraiser with Bill Ayers and Bernardine Dorn; the invariable nap in the family pew at the Rev. Jeremiah Wright’s church; picking out his first teleprompter; and many more! Be the first progressive on your block to collect ‘em all!

- Incensed by the lies that the National Rifle Association is constantly telling about President Obama’s purported opposition to gun ownership? Rest assured that the President knows all about the Second Amendment (for example, at a recent press conference the President forcibly pointed out that it comes right after the First Amendment, and just before the Third). But there’s no reason to turn the whole country into Dodge City. Why not purchase a membership, for yourself or a loved one, in a brand new organization: Defending Individual Safety in an Approved Responsible Manner? The annual fee funds several educational and legislative initiatives that offer non-violent alternatives to traditional self-defense techniques. Your membership package includes a 3x5 laminated card listing the penalties for rape, armed robbery and burglary that you can flash at malefactors for their edification; stainless-steel “dog tags” bearing your name and the name of your next-of-kin; and a subscription to Possum magazine, your monthly guide to such important topics as playing dead, learning to run like a gazelle, and knowing how to turn over your valuables in a cheerful, non-threatening manner.

- Whether you’re a neophyte or an expert, you’ll stand out on the links with Barack Obama signature golf clubs, manufactured according to specifications designed by the fourth best president of the United States, based on his own extensive experience on some of the most challenging courses in the world. Maybe you’ll never be president, but there’s no reason you can’t play golf like one!

Ho-ho-hope ‘n change, everyone!

Confirmed by an authoritative source: Sean Penn is a communist a**hole

Who am I, to challenge the insights of the lovely Maria Conchita Alonso?



Turnoffs: Commies, fellow travelers

Turn-ons: Democracy, freedom, guys in fedoras (Hey, that’s what I hear!)

Update: Dang! Speaking of communist a**holes. I saw this headline at Hot Air - “Kim on display” - and thought they meant Kardashian; turns out they meant Dear Leader. So, instead of eye candy, I get a dead red on a slab. Still, good to see genuine evidence that the old bastard has assumed room temperature. And is it just me, or does the display look kinda…Christmas-y?

Update II: Moonbattery has a delicious video clip of Christopher Hitchens flipping off tapir-faced Bill Maher’s audience.

Happy Chanukah!

Thanks to YoJ for reminding me. Seraphic Secret has a link to a very interesting video that provides some historical background.

Monday, December 19, 2011

Sounds like karma, baby!

Two shoplifters were robbed while they were pinching stuff in a grocery store.

Check out the photos of the hapless couple. The woman looks like a fully-depreciated sex-bot from Westworld or Blade Runner.

Really? Since when?

The preshizzle is reportedly "concerned" about rights in Venezuela.

You're a little late to the party, Barry, but there still might be some punch and cupcakes left.

If George Lucas keeps tampering with Star Wars

…perhaps he will ultimately wind up giving us the existential version (from the wonderful Retronaut site).

Yes, they really said that

The Media Research Center has compiled a list of quotes representing the worst reporting of the year. Scroll down to see the 17 categories (which include awards for, among other things, Obamagasm, Flunking the Founding Fathers and Celebrity Vapidity).

The quote of the year award goes – envelope please – to…Paul Krugman!
“What happened after 9/11 — and I think even people on the right know this, whether they admit it or not — was deeply shameful. [The] atrocity should have been a unifying event, but instead it became a wedge issue. Fake heroes like Bernie Kerik, Rudy Giuliani, and, yes, George W. Bush raced to cash in on the horror. And then the attack was used to justify an unrelated war the neo-cons wanted to fight, for all the wrong reasons....The memory of 9/11 has been irrevocably poisoned; it has become an occasion for shame. And in its heart, the nation knows it.”
Read on to discover what TV-news talking heads, politicians and has-been actors think of you, Mr. and Mrs. America!


“A Paco presidency would be like Kim Jong Il’s dictatorship, except with fedoras. And I imagine the security forces would dress up like New York state troopers from the 1940s. Otherwise, no difference at all.”

Assortment

Michelle Malkin reviews some of Honest Nancy Pelosi’s “lucky” investments.

Walter Williams, the brilliant, feisty and amusing economist, has published an autobiography. Looks to be a very good read.

Is post-Hussein Iraq already starting to come unglued?

Good roundup of reports on the late and unlamented Kim Jong Il, from Ed Driscoll (including this solid gold Tweet from Josh Trevino: “I’d like to think God let Havel and Hitchens pick the third”).

Babalu has an interesting video of Vaclav Havel discussing communist Cuba. Havel was definitely the antithesis of the typical bureaucratic political euroweenie.

Hats off to Sheriff Brad Rogers of Elkhart County, Indiana, who won a showdown with the FDA.

Now, who’s going to take on the EPA?

Racism – or whining about it - is now the last refuge of the scoundrel, as Eric Holder so clearly demonstrates. Rep. Allen West gives Holder the raspberry.

How’s that Arab spring thing workin’ out in Egypt? Meh, don’t ask.

Delicious irony from Gateway Pundit.

A new low for used-car salesmen.

Yikes! This is why I use cigarette smoke to clean my sinuses.

Barney Frank shows off his man-boobs on the floor of the House - and, er, on the floor of the House (Warning: Not Safe for Anyplace).

Occupied Northern Virginia

As you all know, the Paco Command Center operates deep within enemy lines. Reason provides a quick overview of Fairfax County and its Democrat discontents (H/T: Captain Heinrichs).

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Monday movie

A hilarious scene from a great, but now unfortunately little known, screwball comedy, Murder, He Says (1945).

Better late than never

North Korean dictator Kim Jong Il was apparently more "il" than we knew.

Update: Top 10 crazy facts about Kim Jong Il (H/T: Tim Blair).

Update II: The North Korean dictator was a buffoon, but we should remember that he was an extraordinarily evil man, drunk on his own power, and responsible for perpetuating one of the most barbarous political systems in history.

Christmas headgear

Here are some nice lids, courtesy of the fashion-setting Mr. Bingley. Also, I'll mention one of my favorite places for brims, Miller Hats. And if you're really looking for something special, you may want to consider The Custom Hatter.

And for your liberal friends, there's always the old reliable...

Vaclav Havel, RIP


Writer, politician and anti-communist patriot, Vaclav Havel has died at the age of 75.

# 4

A few days ago, I posted about Obama's claim, on 60 Minutes, to be the fourth best president; however, what I didn't know was that the ridiculous statement was edited out by 60 Minutes.

My, how things have changed since the General Westmoreland episode.



Update: a four-million-dollar vacation???

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Sunday funny

The comrades at the People's Cube infiltrate OWS!

Also from People's Cube: Don't break the chain!

Is Ann Coulter angling for a "strange new respect" award?

She wants to endorse Romney? Fine. But slandering the Tea Party just because many grass-roots conservatives - prior to the first caucus or primary - aren't ready to sign on the dotted line for the guy is absurd and, ultimately, inimical to her cause.

Obama to be primaried?

It looks like the president may face an, um, awesome challenger.

Vermin Supreme - who vaguely resembles Fidel Castro - is running as a Democrat on a platform of mandatory dental hygiene.

What is it with Democrats and mandates?

Democratic congressman goes on hunger "strike"

For 24 hours. Pretty much what you'd do the day before a colonoscopy.
Rep. Keith Ellison, D-Minn., embarked on a 24-hour hunger strike in solidarity with four Occupy DC protesters who have gone without food since Dec. 8 to advocate for D.C. voting rights.

Ellison, the first Muslim to serve in the House, met with the hunger strikers Thursday and pledged to read their declaration – which calls for full voting rights for District residents as well as legislative and budget autonomy – on the floor of the House of Representatives to enter it into the congressional record.

Friday, December 16, 2011

Yumpin' yimminy!

I just did a Norwegian bit in the comments section at Tim Blair's, which he was kind enough to bump to the main post.

Hope yew enyoy, by golly!

Treadninit

Tim Blair draws our attention to the winner of the $50,000 2011 Montreal International Poetry Prize. The Globe and Mail has the details.
The $50,000 Montreal International Poetry Prize has just announced that Australian poet and essayist Mark Tredinnick, who lives in the highlands southwest of Sydney, has been awarded the inaugural prize for his poem, Walking Underwater…

The nonprofit Montreal International Poetry Prize represents a new approach to major literary awards, being the first major literary prize to be awarded "blind," meaning the author's identity is not revealed to the judge until after the winner has been selected.
Oh, thanks for explaining that to me. Having read the poem, for a moment there I thought maybe you meant that a blind man had plucked the thing out of a hat. Also, I wonder if it was perhaps a bit uncharitable to publicise the author’s name, even after the winning selection was made. I see a grim future in which friends, running into Tredinnick on the street, will smile pityingly at him, then suddenly glance at their watches, remembering an appointment elsewhere. Children – you know how cruel they can be! – will hold their noses in his presence. Stray dogs will bark at him, not in anger but in scorn.

Read it for yourselves. Over in Tim’s comment section, I described this nature poem as sounding like a drunk park ranger talking in his sleep. Quite aside from its fundamental awfulness - its hip obscurantism, its half-baked metaphors, its affectation of a dream-like state, it’s prosy lack of meter – there is the rich, though unwitting, comedy of the mention of Neruda in the third stanza. If Tredinnick possessed even a fraction of the Chilean poet’s gifts, he might have managed an interesting, albeit derivative, piece of work; entirely lacking in those gifts, however, he simply plunks the man’s name down in his poem, perhaps hoping for favorable comparisons from friendly critics (kind of like low-priced, store-brand products at a grocery – a bottle of mouthwash, say, with the invitation at the bottom of the label to “compare with Listerine”).

Somewhere - like Jimmy Carter, watching with mounting excitement as Barack Obama promises to take the presidential grand booby-prize, after all – the spirit of J. Gordon Coogler is keeping its ectoplasmic fingers crossed.

Something like this happened to me the one and only time I tried water-skiing

The Flyboard jet-pack.

Gulags for rent

Jamie Weinstein of The Daily Caller interviews the extraordinarily enterprising free-lance journalist Shane Smith about his documentary on North Korean labor camps located in Russia (video and photos here).

Another international scandal involving the violation of human rights that, unfortunately, will probably not attract much attention. But for those who are wide awake, it is a testimony, not only to the continuing diabolical madness of North Korea’s cult of personality, but to the lingering perfidy of the Russian government.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Happy Feet Friday

The Four Ginger Snaps perform “Wham, Rebop, Boom, Bam.”



That one's a little short, so I'll throw in those harmonizin' Delta Rhythm Boys jumpin' the St. Louis Blues.

The final five

Robert Avrech completes his list of 20 favorite movies from the 1940s.

Let the quibbling commence (I’ll start. Gun Crazy? Meh. Don’t see how this bests Out of the Past).

Who knew?

Ed Driscoll has some interesting demographic and linguistic info on New Jersey.

No, seriously. Check it out.

Truthfully, some of the nicest people I’ve ever met hail from New Jersey - including the suave and courtly Mr. Bingley.

Keeping tabs on Obama’s friends

The Center for American Progress is a left-wing think-tank that has wielded a tremendous amount of influence in the Obama administration. Jennifer Rubin takes a look at the outfit’s bloggers and discovers – surprise! – an alarming amount of anti-Semitism.

Something stinks in Wisconsin, and it ain't the limberger cheese




Typical anti-Walker voters .

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Hey, swell! Let’s put his picture on a one-trillion dollar bill

Obama thinks he’s the fourth best president, evah!

Sorry, Barry, but based on your record, you wouldn’t even be the fourth best president of Paraguay.

All the grebes you can eat

Those of my readers with long memories may recall that, a while back, I was considering various possible retirement locations, among which I included St. George, Utah.

I guess St. George is still a contender, but I need to make sure I don’t live near the Walmart.
Crews are cleaning up thousands of migratory birds that made a crash landing in southern Utah after apparently mistaking a Walmart parking lot and other areas as bodies of water.
Happens to me all the time. I’ve busted more oars that way.

Thomas Friedman, call your office

A fishing village in China has rebelled against the Communist Party.
For the first time on record, the Chinese Communist party has lost all control, with the population of 20,000 in this southern fishing village now in open revolt.

The last of Wukan’s dozen party officials fled on Monday after thousands of people blocked armed police from retaking the village, standing firm against tear gas and water cannons.

Since then, the police have retreated to a roadblock, some three miles away, in order to prevent food and water from entering, and villagers from leaving. Wukan’s fishing fleet, its main source of income, has also been stopped from leaving harbour.
Contra Friedman, I guess China’s political system isn’t perfect, after all.

Why is Eric Holder still employed by the United States government? (continued)

The most powerful condemnation of Eric Holder, yet – from one of his own people. A sample:
From deep inside Mexico, thanks to streaming video, I was able to watch and listen to the entire House Judiciary Committee hearing. I’m a registered Independent – not Republican and not Democrat, so this is a non-partisan commentary. As I write this, my life, and the lives of my family members are more at risk because of the reckless actions of you and your ATF buddies allowing, facilitating and even paying for firearms to be smuggled into Mexico for criminals.
Read the whole, blistering thing.

There is virtually no one in the rogue’s gallery of bureaucracy who is more reprehensible than a law enforcement official who abuses the very laws he has sworn to uphold, and who, in the process, undermines the public’s trust in the very concept of law and justice. Holder is an unmitigated disgrace to the office of Attorney General, and his continued employment as the nation’s top law enforcement officer is a scandal – although it will probably take another administration before we can begin to wash away his bloody hand-prints.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

New blog

Another kindred spirit joins the dextrosphere: Deep Fried Manatees. Check it out.

David Axelrod: class with a capital 'K'

David Axelrod said about Newt Gingrich: "The higher a monkey climbs on the pole the more you can see his butt."

Well, yeah, unless your own head is stuck so far up another monkey's butt that you can give him a high colonic just by sneezing.

You’ve heard of Rube Goldberg contraptions…

…but have you ever seen Rube Goldberg explain some of them? Here’s a charming clip from the 1940s.

(H/T: PJ Lifestyle)

For anyone interested in classic films

Robert Avrech - Hollywood writer and unapologetic conservative – is putting together a list of his 20 favorite films of the 1940s (first ten here, the next five here, the rest to come next week).

I have seen most of the movies highlighted, and Avrech opines with a sure eye and ear for quality. I was particularly glad to see Barbara Stanwyck so well represented; from screwball comedy to film noir, she could do it all.

Signs of the end times

T.S. Elliot, when asked by an interviewer one time to give an example of the kind of thing that would signal the collapse of civilization, paused for a moment and then suggested random murders.

I agree, and would also add tuba thefts and Barack Obama having an approval rating anywhere north of 20%.

Ben Bernanke's "All you can eat" bailout buffet

Fed Chairman Bernanke appears to have forgotten an important element of economic freedom: the right to fail.

Famous economist attacked by lilliputians

Sheldon Richman at Reason looks at some of Friedrich Hayek's modern critics (including the absurd Paul Krugman).

Obama: Fixing the economy may take "more than one president"

You're right about that, Barry, and the sooner we get started on a new one, the sooner things will begin to turn around.

(H/T: Captain Heinrichs)

Monday, December 12, 2011

O, Canada, dude!

Well, now we know what they’re smoking over at The Guardian.

Stacy McCain’s television: “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger!”

Stacy watches Obama on 60 Minutes, becomes apoplectic.

Justifiably apoplectic, I might add. This is why I immediately change stations – on television and radio – whenever I hear Obama’s voice. It’s like he’s Tokyo Rose or something: you know he’s lying, and you strongly suspect he knows he’s lying.

Of course, maybe he doesn’t know, in which case he’s an idiot. So, whether willful con man or hopeless ignoramus, either way, he’s unfit for office.

He needs to go. Otherwise, we’re probably heading for Greek-style persecution of truth-tellers.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

The road to hell peace is paved with good intentions

Hillary Clinton and Leon Panetta continue trying to inflict their intransigent stupidity on Israel, as Wes Pruden points out in this article:
“I believe security is dependent on a strong military,” Mr. Panetta says, “but it is also dependent on strong diplomacy. Unfortunately, over the past year we’ve seen Israel’s isolation from its traditional security partners in the region grow.” He left unsaid where Israel and the rest of us can find such “strong diplomacy.”

This bogus moral equivalence comports neatly with the traditional liberal convenience of blaming the victim. Mr. Panetta wants Israel to “reach out,” to “mend fences,” to walk the second mile, to forgive and forget, and maybe even buy the world a Diet Coke.
Update: The magic hat meets the magic turbans!

Monday movie

Robert Mitchum plays a run-down sheriff in El Dorado (special bonus: you get to see commie Ed Asner bopped on the noggin with a rifle).

An extremely important milestone

Gavin Atkins reminds us that Tim Blair has been blogging for ten years.

Not only is Tim one of the most perceptive and intelligent - and one of the funniest - bloggers going, he is the blogfather for many of us; as everyone knows, I got my start as a blogger in Tim's comments section, as have many others (check out the list under Blairite Blogs at Tizona). Tim's place is also where I acquired my, er, comprehensive knowledge of cricket.

So, let us raise a glass of finest Sumerian mead in a toast to the Best Blogger in the World.

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Sunday funnies

Venison stew, anyone?

If this happens here, I'll be gone in a heartbeat!

OMG!

Heap big fail

After seeing this, I'm wondering if the Occuputzes in D.C. have been granted special tribal status.


By the way, the number of occupods in McPherson Square has grown considerably since the pitching of the first tents a few months ago. Never underestimate the drawing power of loser pheromones.

Assortment

Good news for Boeing and South Carolina: the National Labor Relations Board has dropped its complaint against Boeing.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer: poster ruminant for the anti-bullying crowd.

Two crony-capitalism scandals in one!

This is our last chance to save the world (not to be confused with all those previous last chances).

Tim Blair offers some valuable advice on Christmas-party decorum.

Oh, crap! I thought you said Packard stock! Hey, everybody: I am now taking offers.

Steve at the Pub reports on the adventures of an antipodean policeman.

Obama’s minions begin channeling Wyatt Earp.

TimT on the "old sock theory of television presenting."

Friday, December 9, 2011

Channel this

Barack Obama sat slumped at his desk in the Oval Office, the stress of the preceding three years weighing on him heavily. He puffed moodily on a Virginia Slims cigarette, mulling over the ironic connection between the brand’s slogan and his own rise to power. “You’ve come a long way, baby!” He shook his head and muttered to himself. “A long way, indeed. And for what? My approval ratings are in the tank, my fancy Wall Street friends are running away from me in droves, Eric Holder’s made a mess of our gun-control scheme, and now I’m getting laughed at for imitating previous presidents. Who the hell’s idea was it to channel Teddy Roosevelt, anyway? ‘Bully’, my ass!”

Obama loosened his tie, took off his shoes and put his feet on the desk. The office seemed excessively warm, and he was getting drowsy. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, smiling unconsciously as he began to fantasize, for the hundredth time, about dropping Joe Biden - not only from the ticket, but from Air Force One, preferably at an altitude of 20,000 feet. Suddenly, the surrounding quiet was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing his throat.

The president’s eyes opened wide and he jerked his feet off the desk, accidentally knocking Bill Ayer’s silver-framed mug shots onto the floor. He rocketed out of his chair, one hand shooting out to crush the cigarette in an ashtray, while another fumbled in a pants pocket for a Chiclet (his Pavlovian response whenever he thought his wife – a kind of anti-smoking Carrie Nation - had invaded his neighborhood).

But the source of the noise was not Michelle, or anybody else with whom he was acquainted. Obama’s jaw dropped in fearful surprise as he saw, standing before the desk, a corpulent gentleman dressed in antique haberdashery – a double-breasted frock coat, a white shirt with a wing-tipped collar and a polka-dot bow tie. The man possessed a majestic set of jowls, and a hairbrush moustache. His piercing, but intelligent and kindly, blue eyes looked upon Obama with an expression that the latter interpreted (correctly, as it turned out) to be a mixture of pity and exasperation – rather like the look on his grandmother’s face when he’d come home with his report card sporting yet another ‘D’ in American history.

“I…I know you! Look, I’m sorry, really I am. I didn’t mean to appropriate your character when I was giving that speech in Kansas; it’s just that…Axelrod made me do it!”

The gentleman rolled his eyes, sighed and took a cigar from the recesses of his costume. “Have you a match?”

Obama’s shaking hand picked up a pack of matches and held them out to his visitor.

“Thank you,” the man said, in a voice of rich timbre and polished enunciation. He lit his cigar and extinguished the flaming match by waving it gently in the air, ultimately reaching over to drop it in the ashtray, after looking vainly about the floor (for a spittoon, as may be). Then he grasped his lapels and said to Obama, “Forgive me, Mr. President, but I profess myself to be slightly mystified by your comments. Just exactly who do you think I am?”

“I…I was thinking that you were…well, Teddy Roosevelt. Or maybe his ghost.”

The large man smiled around his cigar and chuckled. “Hardly, sir. I’m Grover Cleveland.”

Obama frowned in perplexity. “The baseball player?” he asked.

“No, you’re thinking of Grover Cleveland Alexander. I am one of your predecessors, the 22nd and 24th president of the United States.”

Obama’s mind reeled. “Why are you here? Did you, er, forget something?”

“No, sir, I didn’t, but apparently you did.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You must have forgotten who you are, because you’ve been attempting to purloin the fame and reputation of other presidents.”

Obama bristled. “Hey, I know exactly who I am!”

Cleveland folded his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. “Well, then, who are you?”

“That’s easy. I’m…I’m…”

“I’m waiting.”

“All right, all right! Give me a minute.”

“I’ll tell you who you are. You are a man who has had greatness thrust upon him, and who finds the fit to be decidedly loose.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Practically bagging at the knees, my dear fellow. You’re treading on your cuffs. Your eyes shine from the cavernous recesses of your coat like the eyes of an owl in a hollow tree. The point I’m trying to make is that few are born to greatness. A man must grow into it. That’s why I’m here. To serve as your political mentor. If you simply must channel other presidents, you’d be well-advised to channel me.”

“Oh, come on! I mean, no disrespect intended, but you’re not exactly Lincoln or FDR.

“But neither are you, sir, and you embarrass yourself by pretending to the courage of the former and the cunning of the latter. And Teddy Roosevelt! God, man, the fellow was energetic, to be sure, but he was also a consummate ass on any number of issues. ‘Bull Moose’, indeed! And the very period of his life that seems to have attracted you was one in which he veered dangerously close to espousing socialism.”

“So, what’s your point?”

“My point, sir? My point is this. You’re a Democrat; I’m a Democrat. You have an opportunity before you to resurrect the Democratic Party of a better age. Why, my administration opposed high tariffs, supported sound money, and was solidly pro-business.”

“I’m pro-business!

“Give me an example.”

“Well, there’s…” the president nervously licked his lips… “there’s Solyndra,” he said, in a small voice.

“Bah!” Cleveland stepped closer to the desk, pointing a stern finger at Obama. “That was nothing but spoils! I implemented policies to free up the power of private enterprise, not shackle it to government influence peddling. I fought ‘bossism’ and what you now call crony-capitalism tooth and nail, and I checked the growth of government by reducing the number of federal employees.”

Cleveland approached Obama and swung an avuncular arm around his shoulder. “My boy, set aside your radicalism. Embrace our country’s founding principles. Don’t reject them in favor of all that European nonsense. I’ll gladly be your guide, if you’ll permit me.”

Obama swallowed and pounded a fist into the palm of his other hand.

“I’ll do it!”

Another voice now pierced Obama’s consciousness. “Do what?” the voice said. “Do what?” He felt his shoulders being shaken violently. Obama opened his eyes and spluttered. “Wha…what’s going on?”

His wife was standing over him. “You dozed off and were mumbling on about ‘doing’ something. I hope what you’re planning on doing is hauling your narrow ass outta that chair and getting rid of that cigarette butt. Do we need to have another talk about your smoking?” Aware that the talks he had with his wife on the subject of his various shortcomings typically involved very little actual talking on his part, Obama took the easy way out and simply apologized for backsliding, promising to do better.

As soon as Michelle left the room, Obama counted to twenty – to guard against the possibility that she might return unexpectedly - and then fingered another gasper from the pack. Lighting up, he sat back in his chair in a reverie.

“What an interesting dream,” he thought. “Y-e-s. I should model myself on…on…Damn! What was that guy’s name?”

* * * * * * * * * * *

One month later

David Axelrod staggered into the Oval Office, a haunted expression on his face. His moustache had now gone completely white, and his hair was coming out in clumps. In a voice choking with emotion he approached the president.

“Mr. President! You’ve got to stop! Please!”

Obama was sitting on a corner of his desk, leafing through a paperback edition of presidential biographies. He looked up from his book and sighed.

“What is it now, David?”

“Sir, you’ve dropped another 3 points in the polls, and the ASPCA has, for the first time in history, issued an endorsement.”

“Who are they endorsing?”

“’Anybody but Obama’. That’s what their web site says.”

“Well, I don’t see why that’s such a big deal. Dogs don’t vote.”

“No, Mr. President, but their owners do. Whatever possessed you to pick Bo up by his ears in front of all those reporters?”

“Damn! I guess I’m channeling the wrong president again. I thought it might be Lyndon Johnson, but I guess not.”

Axelrod sobbed. “Not that business again! Last week you channeled Andrew Jackson and challenged John Boehner to a duel. The week before that you channeled James K. Polk and sent a gunboat to bombard Vera Cruz. The week before that you channeled Andrew Johnson and showed up drunk at a press conference. You’ve got to stop!”

“I can’t stop! I’ve got to keep trying until I channel the right Democratic president. If I could only remember his name. You see, I had a dream.”

Axelrod fled from the room screaming. “Gaaaah! Now he thinks he’s Martin Luther King!”

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Happy Feet Friday

That consummate swing-meister, Lionel Hampton, performs “Hey Ba Ba Re Bop”.

Why is Eric Holder still employed by the United States government?

Oversee a program that results in the arming of drug cartels, the deaths of hundreds of Mexicans, and the murder of a Border Patrol officer, and get rewarded. Try to put a stop to the madness, and get persecuted. Frank Miniter discusses the White House’s war on whistleblowers at Forbes.
[T]he whistleblowers who blew the top off Fast and Furious are paying the price.

- Agent John Dodson, after nearly a year of harassment, including being given menial assignments and being barred from areas of the ATF building in Phoenix, is in the process of trying to sell his home in Arizona so he can transfer to South Carolina.

- Agent Larry Alt transferred to Florida. He still has unresolved legal claims against the ATF.

- Agent Pete Forcelli was demoted to a desk job after he testified before Congress. He has requested an internal investigation to address retaliation targeting him.

- Agent James Casa took a transfer to Florida.

- Agent Carlos Canino, who was a deputy attache in Mexico City, was moved to Tucson.
I believe it was Michael Barone who first referred to this administration as a “gangster government.” Prescient and appropriate.

Update: How about a big, piping–hot cup of impeachment?

Not yet on the shelves of the Paco library

But soon to be, I hope. Basic Books has published The Thomas Sowell Reader.

Kevin Williamson discusses this indefatigable seeker after truth over at Commentary. A sample:
Now 81 years old, Sowell is known as a libertarian-leaning conservative, which he is, and he has a thriving sideline in debunking racial platitudes. But he is first an economist, which means he is first an observer and reporter of facts, and if those facts take him to uncomfortable places, so be it. No, the prevalence of black men in the NBA doesn’t mean that the NBA is racist, it means that reality is racist. Yes, Barack Obama and congressional Democrats really do practice the same kind of ethnic politics that resulted in the Rwandan genocide and the Sri Lankan civil war, even if they do not practice them to the same extent. Yes, affirmative action is naked racism. No, rent-control laws don’t control rent. No, gun-control laws don’t control guns. No, standardized exams are not culturally biased—but, yes, life is culturally biased.

Slippery theology

An Islamic panjandrum has opined that women should stay away from bananas and cucumbers, lest they be overcome by lustful thoughts.

The thing about bananas is that, however phallic they may appear, you can never get away from the slapstick aspects. For example...

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Um, Hot what?

All right, this really made me laugh out loud.

Looks like the Democratic presidential nomination process could get interesting

Steve Burri considers the possibilities.

So, what was 9/11? Felony bullying?

On not calling a spade a spade.
Sen. Susan Collins on Wednesday blasted the Defense Department for classifying the Fort Hood massacre as workplace violence and suggested political correctness is being placed above the security of the nation's Armed Forces at home.

During a joint session of the Senate and House Homeland Security Committee on Wednesday, the Maine Republican referenced a letter from the Defense Department depicting the Fort Hood shootings as workplace violence. She criticized the Obama administration for failing to identify the threat as radical Islam.

I mean this in the kindliest possible way…

…but Obama is so completely full of s**t that it’s pouring out of his ears. Really, there’s simply no other way of putting it that goes so directly to the truth.

His Teddy Roosevelt speech in Kansas includes so many falsehoods, disingenuous assertions, and inflammable strawmen that one has no choice but to conclude that the president is not only an ideologue wedded to the most reactionary forms of unworkable socialism, but an arrogant elitist who positively disdains the intelligence of his audience. Mike Riggs at Reason quotes a few choice sections from the speech at this blog post, focusing on Obama’s astonishing hypocrisy in the matter of one particular issue: oversight.
But leaving aside Cordray, isn't it great that Obama is talking about oversight? The House Oversight Committee—which has had to fight tooth and nail to get the Obama administration to comply with its investigations of the Transportation Security Administration's screening procedures ("TSA chief skips House hearing on airport scans"), FOIA mismanagement at the Department of Homeland Security ("DHS attorney Reid Cox attempts to 'steal' evidence from a FOIA hearing"), Solyndra ("WH rejects subpoena request for Solyndra docs"), and Elena Kagan's involvement in Obamacare ("DOJ Refuses Request for Kagan-Obamacare Documents")—will be so relieved.
See the article for the appropriate links to the stories mentioned in parentheses.

Would-be dictators come in many shapes and sizes, and from many backgrounds. I decline to tolerate any of them, and most especially a parasitic community activist, fifth-rate professor and narcissistic political climber who attempts to hide his boundless ignorance and truculent stupidity in the cheap drapery of false patriotism, and in the even cheaper histrionics of Battleship Potemkin class-warfare rhetoric. It is a scandal and a tragedy that this over-blown ward-heeler ever rose any higher than the muck of Illinois state politics, and jettisoning him from the White House in 2012 is an absolutely necessary first step on the road to national recovery.

Let us go forth and make it so.

In memoriam



Today is the 70th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor, that dreadful day that would "live in infamy."

The survivors are dwindling, but their memories are still fresh.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Speak softly and carry a big teleprompter

Obama gave a speech in Kansas today, consciously trying to channel Teddy Roosevelt.

Yo, Barry! Next time, you might want to use a teleprompter that has a GPS option.

Breaking bread with bomb throwers

Scott Johnson at Powerline brings us an interesting bit of news about a fundraiser for the Illinois Humanities Council. There are twelve items up for bid; item 2 is dinner with Bill Ayers and Bernardine Dohrn. Frankly, if the money weren’t going to something as obviously pernicious as the Illinois Humanities Council, I might have made a bid, myself. Imagine the blog fodder!

Me: “Gee, that was a delicious dinner Bill, Bernardine. Is dessert included?"

Bill: “Sure, whatever you want.”

Me: “Waiter, please bring me two cream pies.”

Unrelated update: Speaking of bomb throwers, Nancy Pelosi’s threat to divulge information she had access to while serving on the Ethics Committee that investigated Newt Gingrich seems to have blown up in her face.

Like everything else with Democrats, ethics is simply a one-edged sword.

Obama, the has-been

The Hollywood crowd will no doubt vote for Obama again next year, but many of his supporters are not sufficiently moved this time around to open their wallets.
In 2008 Mr Lear gave just over £21,000 to Mr Obama but will not give a cent this time. Like many in Hollywood, he wonders how the President squares the policies he has pursued in office with his 2008 rhetoric. He also wonders how his first term has gone down on the domestic front, given the famously leftish convictions of his wife.
Alas, most Hollywood liberals seem to be frustrated with Obama because he isn’t left-wing enough.

And I always get a kick out of the hilariously misnamed “People for the American Way.”
Nowhere was the disillusionment more keenly felt than at the Beverly Wilshire hotel last night, as liberal Hollywood gathered for an exercise in champagne socialism. People for the American Way (PFAW) – perhaps the most influential advocacy organisation in the US – planned to celebrate its 30th birthday in style, with the cost of a table at between £3,200 and £64,000.

The host was Alec Baldwin and the list of patrons, organisers and supporters on the invitation included everyone from J J Abrams, Leonardo DiCaprio, Jon Hamm and Martin Sheen to Barbra Streisand, Kathleen Turner, Larry Flynt and Jamie Lee Curtis.
Alec Baldwin. Larry Flint. Barbra Streisand. Just exactly what kind of “way” is that, and what is there about it that’s particularly “American”?

Even faster and furiouser

Government-to-government gun sales approved by the U.S. State Department have led to more weapons falling into the hands of Mexican cartels than the discredited Fast and Furious program. Ed Morrissey has a nice take: “This makes OF&F look like a dodge by the Obama administration to support tougher gun laws at home while hiding the actual source of the gun diversions — which is, as it always has been, the Mexican army and police forces that defect to the cartels and take their guns with them when they do.”

Arming narco-terrorists through lax controls on military sales, while undermining the Second Amendment at home through a program calculated to ratchet up “illegal” cross-border private sales. Is this what “transformational” government looks like?