The Democrats find themselves in the unusual position of having to claim that, whereas being Governor of a state qualified Clinton to be President, being Governor of a state does not qualify Palin to be Vice-President. Truly rabid liberals have no difficulties shrugging off their laughable affronts to logic and reason, of course, and perhaps it was that Clinton’s extra-marital adventures were the credential that endeared him to the Kennedy worshippers.
In the case of Palin one is justified in accusing them of variable standards, and in that of B.O., of a total lack of them.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
HORRYWOOD
In Spielberg’s film, 1941, it’s what a sailor on a Japanese sub gasps when he glimpses our Glitter Capital’s famous sign. I thought it sounded funny and shall use it here.
Everyone knows that nowadays not all our movies, television programs, music, and diversity of audio/visual amusements are created in that section of Los Angeles, but I’d like to use “Horrywood” to designate that empire irrespective of geography. Similarly, “Wall Street” encompasses more than those few blocks.
I also need to introduce a medical definition of the term “epidemic:” a cluster in time and space, meaning a significant number of events at about the same time and in the same place. For example, whole countries of Africa are said to be experiencing epidemics of AIDS; there are numerous cases in a single area. There were virulent epidemics of plague at various times and places in Europe and a devastating one of influenza following World War I.
What I’d like to claim, then, is that Horrywood has for some years been experiencing an epidemic of cesspool sleaze. Too much of what is produced there is downright pornography - redeeming social value, my *** - bloody violence exceeding that of a battlefield; destruction; scatology; maculation of the values of decent people; exaltation of the worst the world has to offer; militant derogation of Christianity, especially Catholicism; and corruption from a broadband spectrum of types. If you don’t need examples, please skip the next four paragraphs.
Lately I paid an afternoon visit to a home, where, as often and detrimentally in this country, the television set is allowed to burn electricity, hence probably oil, day and night. I’d heard of The Sopranos but was dumbfounded to observe part of an hour’s devoted to the graphic abuse of women, one eventually beaten to death by a man’s fists. This was neutralized, I suppose they thought, by his later murder by a another faction of savages. Many of the less exciting scenes appeared to take place in a whorehouse. Good grief, do people in your household watch this educational medium? Looking at statistics of rape and abuse of females, I guess it IS educational.
I was anxious to watch a movie, starring Juliette Binoche and Richard Gere, called Bee Season , purporting to deal with spelling bees, when, in fact, it was it was nothing more than Jewish propaganda that escalated rapidly into a blatant attack on Catholicism. I sailed the dvd into the backyard darkness, its proper domain.
For another instance from a virtually, not virtuously, endless list, consider the day-time spectacles often blaring, unwanted by the ill, in physicians’ waiting rooms. Purported husbands and wives, shack-up pairs, any admixtures admissible, the more grotesque the better, show up and, after several minutes of gruesome, screaming diatribes, provide, to the utter delight of a cheering mob of degenerate spectators, an epitome of Saturday Night Wrestling.
Have you watched music vids? Listened carefully to the scurrilous chants known as rap? Noticed the private lives and exploits of these and other “artists?”
Apparently being intended for adults equates to being sleazy, so the purveyors of the entertainment arts intentionally sully what is not utter gutter bait to win the coveted “R = Watch this one, folks; this is really disgusting.” If all else fails, they can take something of quality and perforate it with obscene language so as to descend to R status. I noticed a wonderful example of this form of marketing in a recent People (Peep Hole?) Magazine, the cover of which celebrated Ellen Degenerate’s sham union. It was an ad for a television program called Gossip Girl. The lead marketing feature was a purported quote from the Parents Television Council, “Mind-blowingly inappropriate,” quite a selling point, indeed. “Come and get it, kids! This is naughty and bad, and don’t take our words for it, just see what the P.T.C. said.”
I could go on and on, but I feel it’s trivial to demonstrate that much of what percolates up from Horrywood should have stayed down in the septic tank.
Next, consider how many of the Horrywood citizens lead the sorts of lives their products highlight. If one believes half the grocery store and physician office literature, it’s QUITE a few. Even our supposedly unbiased, unbigoted news sources suggest there are MANY Horrywood denizens living what they portray and peddle.
You’ll understand, then, that when large numbers of Horrywoodians rally about a person or a concept, I write off him or it as something defective and undesirable – Birds of a Feather and all that. If a person is sleazy himself and worships someone or something, then I infer that someone or something is also sleazy, or at least compatible with the objectives of the sleazy.
Thus, when Horrywood adores Barack Obama = B.O., I know that B.O. = B.N. = Bad News. Is that logical or what?
Y.C.
Everyone knows that nowadays not all our movies, television programs, music, and diversity of audio/visual amusements are created in that section of Los Angeles, but I’d like to use “Horrywood” to designate that empire irrespective of geography. Similarly, “Wall Street” encompasses more than those few blocks.
I also need to introduce a medical definition of the term “epidemic:” a cluster in time and space, meaning a significant number of events at about the same time and in the same place. For example, whole countries of Africa are said to be experiencing epidemics of AIDS; there are numerous cases in a single area. There were virulent epidemics of plague at various times and places in Europe and a devastating one of influenza following World War I.
What I’d like to claim, then, is that Horrywood has for some years been experiencing an epidemic of cesspool sleaze. Too much of what is produced there is downright pornography - redeeming social value, my *** - bloody violence exceeding that of a battlefield; destruction; scatology; maculation of the values of decent people; exaltation of the worst the world has to offer; militant derogation of Christianity, especially Catholicism; and corruption from a broadband spectrum of types. If you don’t need examples, please skip the next four paragraphs.
Lately I paid an afternoon visit to a home, where, as often and detrimentally in this country, the television set is allowed to burn electricity, hence probably oil, day and night. I’d heard of The Sopranos but was dumbfounded to observe part of an hour’s devoted to the graphic abuse of women, one eventually beaten to death by a man’s fists. This was neutralized, I suppose they thought, by his later murder by a another faction of savages. Many of the less exciting scenes appeared to take place in a whorehouse. Good grief, do people in your household watch this educational medium? Looking at statistics of rape and abuse of females, I guess it IS educational.
I was anxious to watch a movie, starring Juliette Binoche and Richard Gere, called Bee Season , purporting to deal with spelling bees, when, in fact, it was it was nothing more than Jewish propaganda that escalated rapidly into a blatant attack on Catholicism. I sailed the dvd into the backyard darkness, its proper domain.
For another instance from a virtually, not virtuously, endless list, consider the day-time spectacles often blaring, unwanted by the ill, in physicians’ waiting rooms. Purported husbands and wives, shack-up pairs, any admixtures admissible, the more grotesque the better, show up and, after several minutes of gruesome, screaming diatribes, provide, to the utter delight of a cheering mob of degenerate spectators, an epitome of Saturday Night Wrestling.
Have you watched music vids? Listened carefully to the scurrilous chants known as rap? Noticed the private lives and exploits of these and other “artists?”
Apparently being intended for adults equates to being sleazy, so the purveyors of the entertainment arts intentionally sully what is not utter gutter bait to win the coveted “R = Watch this one, folks; this is really disgusting.” If all else fails, they can take something of quality and perforate it with obscene language so as to descend to R status. I noticed a wonderful example of this form of marketing in a recent People (Peep Hole?) Magazine, the cover of which celebrated Ellen Degenerate’s sham union. It was an ad for a television program called Gossip Girl. The lead marketing feature was a purported quote from the Parents Television Council, “Mind-blowingly inappropriate,” quite a selling point, indeed. “Come and get it, kids! This is naughty and bad, and don’t take our words for it, just see what the P.T.C. said.”
I could go on and on, but I feel it’s trivial to demonstrate that much of what percolates up from Horrywood should have stayed down in the septic tank.
Next, consider how many of the Horrywood citizens lead the sorts of lives their products highlight. If one believes half the grocery store and physician office literature, it’s QUITE a few. Even our supposedly unbiased, unbigoted news sources suggest there are MANY Horrywood denizens living what they portray and peddle.
You’ll understand, then, that when large numbers of Horrywoodians rally about a person or a concept, I write off him or it as something defective and undesirable – Birds of a Feather and all that. If a person is sleazy himself and worships someone or something, then I infer that someone or something is also sleazy, or at least compatible with the objectives of the sleazy.
Thus, when Horrywood adores Barack Obama = B.O., I know that B.O. = B.N. = Bad News. Is that logical or what?
Y.C.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
the LOUD speaker
The nuttiest of liberals’ efforts to malign Sarah Palin has spread through their scrofulous ranks like a renegade bacillus on a Petri dish.
The other day I saw a newspaper item that reported Pelosi’s pontificating that Sarah was too inexperienced to occupy the “heartbeat from the Presidency” slot. Pelosi is an exotic beast, a pro-abortion Catholic that fabricates her own theology. She speaks as if she has a two-digit IQ, but her most significant credential is her constituency. Have you ever attended or seen (hopefully not) the Folsom Street Faggot Fest in San Fran? That scum is what re-elects good old Nancy every biennium. Whenever she says anything, please to remember that, and if you want to focus on a truly frightening contingency, remember that this loony is just one additional heartbeat from that office! Good grief! Obviously, the brilliant architects of our Constitution never imagined a Pelosi.
Compare the governing experience of the Chief Executive of our largest state to that of an occasional senator whose closest approach to a bill is when some rich buddy pays one for him. Talk about desperate; Time, Newsweek, or one of that ilk – they’re all so similar I can’t distinguish them - lately reported that B.O. has picked up lots of experience by campaigning! Wow! In other words, by running around saying he wants to be President, he’s learned how to command the armed forces, negotiate with Putin, and all that. Who would have guessed?
By the way, why do the Demo’s persist in comparing B.O. to Sarah? Answer: Because B.O. is a minor leaguer, better, a semi-pro, compared to McCain, and they’re desperate to manufacture a weak GOP link. They can’t play the Joe Biden card, because that’s a joker, a multi-term, liberal hack attempting to flourish as a wizard of change. In my view B.O. couldn’t change a tire or his clothes by himself, and, just perhaps, not so much needs changing, anyway. I rather like my existence here. How about you?
The other day I saw a newspaper item that reported Pelosi’s pontificating that Sarah was too inexperienced to occupy the “heartbeat from the Presidency” slot. Pelosi is an exotic beast, a pro-abortion Catholic that fabricates her own theology. She speaks as if she has a two-digit IQ, but her most significant credential is her constituency. Have you ever attended or seen (hopefully not) the Folsom Street Faggot Fest in San Fran? That scum is what re-elects good old Nancy every biennium. Whenever she says anything, please to remember that, and if you want to focus on a truly frightening contingency, remember that this loony is just one additional heartbeat from that office! Good grief! Obviously, the brilliant architects of our Constitution never imagined a Pelosi.
Compare the governing experience of the Chief Executive of our largest state to that of an occasional senator whose closest approach to a bill is when some rich buddy pays one for him. Talk about desperate; Time, Newsweek, or one of that ilk – they’re all so similar I can’t distinguish them - lately reported that B.O. has picked up lots of experience by campaigning! Wow! In other words, by running around saying he wants to be President, he’s learned how to command the armed forces, negotiate with Putin, and all that. Who would have guessed?
By the way, why do the Demo’s persist in comparing B.O. to Sarah? Answer: Because B.O. is a minor leaguer, better, a semi-pro, compared to McCain, and they’re desperate to manufacture a weak GOP link. They can’t play the Joe Biden card, because that’s a joker, a multi-term, liberal hack attempting to flourish as a wizard of change. In my view B.O. couldn’t change a tire or his clothes by himself, and, just perhaps, not so much needs changing, anyway. I rather like my existence here. How about you?
Thursday, September 11, 2008
SILENCE?
It appears that many are remembering this ghastly anniversary with moments of silence, whereas I believe loud proclamations and questions are in order. To me September 11, 2001 was a tragedy much greater than that of December 7, 1941, because the attack seven years ago came from within, and our own negligence and incompetence permitted it to occur.
First to my mind comes the Immigration and Naturalization Service. Have you noticed that agencies that fail us often label themselves as "services?" We have the postal service and the internal revenue service, for two good examples. Leading up to September 11, 2001 we also had working for us the Central Intelligence Service, the Federal Service of Investigation, and our National Security Service.
Neither must we forget forces from the private sector, such as airline security, or lack thereof, that slept while the murders of thousands of our people were being planned and executed.
No, it's hardly a time for silence; it's a time to say a prayer for all those poor people, to shout NEVER AGAIN! at the tops of our voices, and to work hard towards that goal.
First to my mind comes the Immigration and Naturalization Service. Have you noticed that agencies that fail us often label themselves as "services?" We have the postal service and the internal revenue service, for two good examples. Leading up to September 11, 2001 we also had working for us the Central Intelligence Service, the Federal Service of Investigation, and our National Security Service.
Neither must we forget forces from the private sector, such as airline security, or lack thereof, that slept while the murders of thousands of our people were being planned and executed.
No, it's hardly a time for silence; it's a time to say a prayer for all those poor people, to shout NEVER AGAIN! at the tops of our voices, and to work hard towards that goal.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
LITTLE HOUSE ON THE MARKET
Here is my take on the financial turmoil over housing.
1. In a lengthy period of continuously escalating house prices, insouciant buyers projected that trend far into the future and felt secure taking loans that stressed their abilities to pay. They would peddle the houses, make bundles of money, and be free of the debt. Many of these optimistic purchasers were mere profit-seeking speculators and not people requiring places to live.
2. In the same lengthy period of continuously escalating house prices, insouciant lenders projected that trend far into the future and felt secure making loans to less than sterling silver - qualified borrowers. They would peddle the houses, pay off their obligations, and the lenders would earn bundles of money.
BANG! PSSSSS …
Those were the respective sounds of a balloon’s being punctured and of its going flat as the air rushes out of it.
Prices collapsed, Panglossian, unqualified borrowers could not make their payments, and Panglossian, business sense –deprived lenders came a cropper.
HURRAH!
That was the collective cheer of the two groups of morons when our executive and legislative branches of government rushed to an election year rescue with – what else? – bail-out dough from the inexhaustible federal supply of dollars.
I say the morons should all go down for the count.
“Yer pays yer money, yer takes yer chances.”
That’s the way of a healthy economy; I’m sick of moribund, welfare floundering.
No one ever came to my assistance when I made unfortunate investment decisions, and I’ve made some beauties.
CLACKETY – CLACK – CLACK
That was the sound of an inexhaustible federal supply of dollars; it is called a printing press. We print more money, so each unit of it decreases in value.
HURRAH!
That was the sound of my reaction to your correct answer to the quiz question, “Who’s paying to rescue the morons?”
1. In a lengthy period of continuously escalating house prices, insouciant buyers projected that trend far into the future and felt secure taking loans that stressed their abilities to pay. They would peddle the houses, make bundles of money, and be free of the debt. Many of these optimistic purchasers were mere profit-seeking speculators and not people requiring places to live.
2. In the same lengthy period of continuously escalating house prices, insouciant lenders projected that trend far into the future and felt secure making loans to less than sterling silver - qualified borrowers. They would peddle the houses, pay off their obligations, and the lenders would earn bundles of money.
BANG! PSSSSS …
Those were the respective sounds of a balloon’s being punctured and of its going flat as the air rushes out of it.
Prices collapsed, Panglossian, unqualified borrowers could not make their payments, and Panglossian, business sense –deprived lenders came a cropper.
HURRAH!
That was the collective cheer of the two groups of morons when our executive and legislative branches of government rushed to an election year rescue with – what else? – bail-out dough from the inexhaustible federal supply of dollars.
I say the morons should all go down for the count.
“Yer pays yer money, yer takes yer chances.”
That’s the way of a healthy economy; I’m sick of moribund, welfare floundering.
No one ever came to my assistance when I made unfortunate investment decisions, and I’ve made some beauties.
CLACKETY – CLACK – CLACK
That was the sound of an inexhaustible federal supply of dollars; it is called a printing press. We print more money, so each unit of it decreases in value.
HURRAH!
That was the sound of my reaction to your correct answer to the quiz question, “Who’s paying to rescue the morons?”
Thursday, September 4, 2008
HISTORICTOMY?
On the morning of August 28, I turned on my computer, and a news service told me we’d had a historic night. Later in the day a newspaper headline reiterated that sentiment. (Do you ever get the feeling there aren’t too many different news sources? Do you ever feel they’re often as objective as Gary Trudeau, for whom “Dad, it’s 1985,” is about as hilarious as the last-panel punch lines get? Do you ever ask yourself why generally unfunny left-wing propaganda like that is insinuated into the funny papers? Is that a commentary on your newspaper?)
A little recollection, though, persuaded me that, by golly, it HAD been a historic night, at least insofar as concerns my own memory and typical, American lack of expertise in Clio’s domain. I think it was the first time in history that a person with absolutely no experience in governance or command, no more than a brush of acquaintance with a branch of federal government, and NO demonstrable credentials for the office was nominated for the Presidency. (I think it’s 50-50 that they could have walked out on a sidewalk, nabbed a random passer-by, and got an equal nominee.)
Historic, yes, but so were April 15, 1865; December 7, 1941; November 22, 1963; September 11, 2001; June 28, 1914; and April 17, 1961. God save us from another historic night in November, but let’s not just trust in God – Pelosi and pals haven’t switched our motto yet, have they? – let’s WORK, WORK, WORK to defeat B.O. and keep America-haters from positions of influence.
A little recollection, though, persuaded me that, by golly, it HAD been a historic night, at least insofar as concerns my own memory and typical, American lack of expertise in Clio’s domain. I think it was the first time in history that a person with absolutely no experience in governance or command, no more than a brush of acquaintance with a branch of federal government, and NO demonstrable credentials for the office was nominated for the Presidency. (I think it’s 50-50 that they could have walked out on a sidewalk, nabbed a random passer-by, and got an equal nominee.)
Historic, yes, but so were April 15, 1865; December 7, 1941; November 22, 1963; September 11, 2001; June 28, 1914; and April 17, 1961. God save us from another historic night in November, but let’s not just trust in God – Pelosi and pals haven’t switched our motto yet, have they? – let’s WORK, WORK, WORK to defeat B.O. and keep America-haters from positions of influence.
NO MORE AA FOR AA's
After seeing him the favored object in most every news medium (I have a theory as to why these sources always are biased towards Democrats, but that’s for another day.), reading someone’s views, and babbling about change more than a store clerk or somebody with a flat tire, what do you think of B.O.?
When he’s not hypnotized by the teleprompting device he strikes me as about as intelligent as an old-Chicago brick. “How does an old-Chicago brick get into Harvard’s law school?” one then might ask.
In recent years it has seemed to me that, excluding athlete-students, who have top priority everywhere, there are three classes of people admitted into Our Most Prestigious University.
1. Brilliant students, though not all brilliant students are accepted.
2. Students belonging to one or another MINORITY.
3. Students able to pay the price of attending.
From what I see of B.O., he was not in category 1, unless law school there depleted his genius, for, away from the teleprompter he sounds like a Head Start dropout; aside from voting “present” a remarkable number of times, he contributed nothing notable to the Illinois State Legislature; and in his legendary 140+ day U.S. Senate career he managed to travel a bit and author, most likely with ghostly help, a book about himself though nary a bill.
His considerable fortune appears to have accrued after Harvard, not to mention with almost magical celerity, so we must eliminate 3 above.
Therefore, since any athletic prowess he possesses must be more latent than what he truly feels about most topics, his was a category 2 admission.
It is a great deal simpler to classify wife, Michelle. She failed Princeton’s entrance exam but nevertheless was allowed to enter an institution where the likes of Einstein, von Neumann, Goedel, and Turing once trod. Yet, this wealthy product of American welfare has the gall to stand up and deplore the way her country has treated her!
Along with most legal residents of the U.S., I’ve had a BELLY FULL OF AFFIRMATIVE ACTION. It has eroded, at times destroyed, our standards, once the highest in the world. STOP THE EROSION! We don’t want an Affirmative Action President and Worst Lady
When he’s not hypnotized by the teleprompting device he strikes me as about as intelligent as an old-Chicago brick. “How does an old-Chicago brick get into Harvard’s law school?” one then might ask.
In recent years it has seemed to me that, excluding athlete-students, who have top priority everywhere, there are three classes of people admitted into Our Most Prestigious University.
1. Brilliant students, though not all brilliant students are accepted.
2. Students belonging to one or another MINORITY.
3. Students able to pay the price of attending.
From what I see of B.O., he was not in category 1, unless law school there depleted his genius, for, away from the teleprompter he sounds like a Head Start dropout; aside from voting “present” a remarkable number of times, he contributed nothing notable to the Illinois State Legislature; and in his legendary 140+ day U.S. Senate career he managed to travel a bit and author, most likely with ghostly help, a book about himself though nary a bill.
His considerable fortune appears to have accrued after Harvard, not to mention with almost magical celerity, so we must eliminate 3 above.
Therefore, since any athletic prowess he possesses must be more latent than what he truly feels about most topics, his was a category 2 admission.
It is a great deal simpler to classify wife, Michelle. She failed Princeton’s entrance exam but nevertheless was allowed to enter an institution where the likes of Einstein, von Neumann, Goedel, and Turing once trod. Yet, this wealthy product of American welfare has the gall to stand up and deplore the way her country has treated her!
Along with most legal residents of the U.S., I’ve had a BELLY FULL OF AFFIRMATIVE ACTION. It has eroded, at times destroyed, our standards, once the highest in the world. STOP THE EROSION! We don’t want an Affirmative Action President and Worst Lady
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