Woe Is Me...

Hi everyone...
I just had a complete computer crash from a virus that I picked up somewhere. It made it past 2 firewalls and a slew of anti-virus programs, and a proxy server. Right now it appears I've lost everything I've accumulated over the past 10 years or so.

Update all of your virus software as well as your firewall(s). Whatever this sucker is it got past everything. The only thing I can figure is that it adapted itself to one of the programs or files I was running and mimicked it. I dunno, I have never had a virus get past the iron wall I've built.

Be careful!

Guest Column: Monkee On Stink Eye/Dead Eye

Stink/dead eye. The true meanings.

From Monkee at www.monkeychapps.com

No, this is the good one! Thats the joke I like to play on those that seem a bit uncomfortable asking me about my eye. Its actually a replaced cornea that was badly scarred. I wish I had a good story about how it happened like I was injured trying to find Ossama Bin Laden or it was injured during a fight with ghost pirates. Alas nothing as glamorous. The iris is stretched and it looks like a cat eye. I usually hear “thats cool” and I reply with my old standard ” how cool, cool enough for you to want to give me cash/ make out/ wash my car”? No takers yet, but I am patient. I digress.

The shape of the eye sometime give an ominous look leading people to think that I am scowling at them. I found out this was known as the stink/skunk/evil eye. My usual jocularity and silly antics put people at ease and I no longer am placed in the “mean guy” category. With that said I will now retell a story, a story of pain. A story of disgust and trauma only seen by trauma surgeons and homicide detectives.

It was a glorious spring day. A day that could put the most devout curmudgeon and Nair-do-well in the best of spirits. A day when I took no offense at doing one of my least favorite chores. Mowing the lawn. I hate all the prep work and extras that one does just to cut grass. Shovel poop, empty the catcher, fill the garbage bags and so on. I call shenanigans on all that! I’m a free spirit! I will just forgo the catcher and that other drudgery that keeps me from the sweet sweet smell of fresh cut grass.

I mow. I mow sans catcher(the little rocks that gently pelt my shins are not bad). The grass will fly out the catcher attachment, dry up and blow away. No problem. I mow over the dog doody. It’ll scatter all over and not be a problem.

Halfway though I see a pile, take aim and run over it. I never thought a piece of poo could exit the catcher hole, catch the wind and hit me. The odds of that are huge. Even greater are the odds of that same poo making that turn, catching an updraft and flying at my eye! The stink eye non the less. It was like a scene from the matrix only with dog poo. It was horrible and I still carry the scars. What I can’t figure out is why I felt running around like a mad man yelling “poo” would help me.

So now when I am asked about my “stink eye” I do have a good story.

Jumping Into History!

Back when I was a kid, Evel Knievel ruled. He was the ultimate testosterone rush before I even knew what the hell testosterone was.

Of course, everyone wanted to mimic the crazy sonofabitch, including some adults. We heard a story of a guy somewhere that got completely wasted and tried to jump his Harley over his wife's car using a piece of plywood propped up against the car. Needless to say, when the weight of the Harley hit the plywood, it snapped, sending him into the car, then into the hospital. Some people have no business drinking. Or procreating for that matter.

Anyway, the Evel Knievel craze had hit the young and impressionable kids on Thrall Court. This was an unfortunate turn of events for the parents...But a boon in business for the hospitals. Before you knew it we were jumping homemade ramps made out of, well, plywood and two by fours. At first we just jumped into the air with no objects underneath. Then, we worked our way up from air to a couple of kids to garbage cans.

Another kid on the street, Brian, decided he wanted to go first when we built the "Big Ramp" to jump two cans. As he raced toward the ramp from the top of the hill he must have had second thoughts because at the last minute he slammed on the brakes. He was way too close to the ramp and subsequently just kinda rolled off the top of the ramp and into the garbage can. He wasn't hurt too bad, except for the fact he racked his balls on the bike. Besides hurting his twins and his pride, he really dented the crap out of the galvanized can.

I decided I wanted to try it. I went to the top of the hill, turned around and stopped. The ramp looked like it was about the size of a matchbox. I was thinking there was no way on God's green earth I was going to be able to make that jump, but I had to try. After going head to head with the '68 Catalina, I had a reputation to keep. I then thought about Evel Knievel and remembered him talking about one of his jumps where he had crashed and broke a few bones. He told the sportscaster that he didn't have enough speed when he hit the ramp, which caused him to come up short. I knew that I had to have speed...and lots of it.

I started off and cranked that bike with all I had. I was hoping that the combination of my leg power and the grade of the hill would propel me to victory. I was cranking like hell, white skinny legs a blur, and focused completely on the ramp. I could see nothing else because of tunnel vision. As I got about three-quarters of the way to my destination, I hit a rock that was in the middle of the street, causing my bike to start wobbling out of control. Everything else was just a blur at that moment. I thought, "Man, I'm in some really deep shit here", followed by, "Man, this was really a stupid idea". You know how they say your life passes before your eyes right before you die? My life was on a wide screen, in stereo and in Technicolor.

As I hit the pavement, I went over the bike face first into the pavement. The only thing I remembered was the wobbling of the bike, BIG blank space, and getting up off the ground, dazed and bleeding like shit. That was my first taste of being really hurt. Man, I was screwed!

I immediately went into the house, with all the dipshits who concocted the crazy idea in tow, and told my mom I needed a band-aid. When she looked up, all she could say was "oh, shit...SHIT!". She took me into the bathroom and proceeded to clean me up with a wash cloth. I looked in the mirror and saw that I had ripped my top lip open, as well as having road rash to the rest of my face.

We went to Dr. Austins office at John Peter Smith Hospital. When Dr. Austin saw me, he asked my mom what the hell happened. She told him what had happened, adding that we were copying some crazy guy on TV who was trying to kill himself. He looked at me and said, "Evel Knievel fan, huh?". Anyway, he looked me over, stitched my lip up and told my mom that I would live to fight another day.

I would, indeed, fight another day.

About two months later, I was ready to try the jump again. During my healing time, Albert Dunlap invented the Redneck Chopper. Any of you who are old enough to remember, the bikes back in the seventies had banana seats with sissy-bars, butterfly handlebars, and curved forks on the front. Albert, who obviously by now was following in his dad's footprints in tinkering with everything he owned, had figured out that if you cut the forks off of one bike, they would fit right over another bike's forks, making a copper bike. He had cut the forks from an old bike, removed the front wheel off his bike and hammered the cut forks over top of his. He now had a Redneck Chopper.

I decided to try it out, by jumping a ramp of course. I went to the top of the hill, but as I went this time I made sure there were no rocks impeding my success. I started cranking (Not quite as fast this time) and as I hit the ramp, the forks snapped in half right where they were hammered together. Off the bike I went again, this time over the freakin' handlebars. Now, if the first time nearly killing myself got me into trouble, I was dead for sure, either from the crash or from my mom. The last thing she told me from the previous wreck was, "I don't want you doing that shit anymore, your gonna kill yourself".

The crash resulted in almost the same injuries as the last, with one exception: The left handlebar, which had a worn grip exposing the end, went into my arm just below the inside of the elbow.

After that, I decided that although getting hurt wasn't that bad since I had beaten the Grim Reaper three times now, I was retiring due to the fact that my mom brought me pretty close to death with the ass-whoopin' that followed. But, as they say, pain goes away but defeat always stays.

Besides, there were other things on the horizon that would beckon me...

Perma-Press One

In the early seventies, my family moved from Rosedale Street in Stop Six to Thrall Court in Polytechnic Heights, or Poly as everyone called it. When we lived on Rosedale we didn't have neighbors, so my brother and I never really played with any other kids. We never really played with each other, come to think of it. We usually just argued and beat the shit out of each other when we weren't exploring or destroying things.

On Thrall Court we had friends, or at least we had other kids around to play with. The first kid from the neighborhood I can remember is Albert Dunlap. Albert was a couple of years older than us, and he's the first one to approach and welcome us to the 'hood. We thought he was either the scouting party for the group or the one that had lost a bet. He seemed like an alright guy, kind of stocky with an Elvis Presley Haircut. He had a younger brother, Tommy, and a sister, Rita.

Albert's Dad, Gene, was quite a peculiar person at first blush. He stood about six foot four and was thin. He had wavy hair and long side-burns and would always have a toothpick in his mouth. He worked for the water department and always seemed to be wearing his work uniform no matter what was going on. He drove a Toyota sedan, which was very uncommon in those days. It was like a swimming pool blue color and was small. It struck me as a clown car, with him having to wedge himself in and out of it.

Gene was cool though. He was always joking around, doing goofy stuff like winking both eyes, making hen clicks while strutting like a chicken, and crap like that. But the coolest thing about Gene of all: He had the toys!

Gene was one of those guys who were always working on something. He had a motorcycle (Honda or Yamaha) and was alway tuning it to try to make it run better. When he would get it to where he thought it was running perfect he would go out and race it up and down the street, sometimes popping wheelies. Gene also had a Cushman three-wheeled truck, which was used by the Post Office back then in Fort Worth.

He had taken this thing and stripped it down, painting popular cartoon characters on the sides and back. Foghorn Leghorn, Casper, Daffy Duck, The Flintstones...They were all on there. On the front above the windshield, it proclaimed "HERE IT COMES!" and on the back top "THERE IT GOES!". He would take the kids in the 'hood for rides down to the store and we would just have a blast seeing the looks on peoples faces.

Gene also built everyone in the neighborhood skateboards. He had acquired quite a number of boards somewhere and then purchased the trucks to go with them. The trucks were metal and, unlike the later polyurethane wheels, were very rough and unforgiving. But hell, we had fun!

The thing that Gene was probably the best at was taking something and making it better, or just coming up with brilliant ideas at the spur of the moment. He taught us how to make go carts, kites, sleds, etc.

WHOA! Sleds? In Texas?

Yup, sleds in Texas! Being in north Texas we weren't immune from snow and ice. It didn't happen often but it did happen. White death would visit us about once every three years or so. It was always a joyous occasion when we did get snow. (Now that I live in Ohio, I just wonder WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!?!) Of course it didn't last long, so we had to make the best of it in short order. You can always tell when someone hasn't seen much snow. They act like they know what they're doing, but really don't have a damned clue. Trust me, our snowmen were genetically defective and anatomically incorrect.

My first year on Thrall Court was welcomed with an ice storm. We had no idea what to do with ice except fall down and bust our ass, but we did do that with glee, inventing ways to fall down. When we weren't actually trying to fall down, we would walk real funny...shuffling our feet and holding our arms out like a Penguin. Come to think of it I think Tommy Dunlap had a black coat on, unzipped with a white shirt underneath. Anyway, my brother and I slid on down to the Dunlap's house and we were immediately confronted by Albert, who appeared to be way too excited about something. Albert informed us that we were going sledding! He took us into his garage and there was Gene, tinkering with an ironing board. I asked him what he was doing and Albert, hardly able to contain himself, said "He's making us a sled!" I was looking at the ironing board and thinking, "Boy, Mrs. Dunlap is really gonna be pissed off when she gets home".

Thrall Court was a fairly long street, about fifteen houses long from the beginning to the cul-de-sac at the end, and it was a slope from beginning to end. That slope got me into more trouble than anything else in the neighborhood.

We took the "Sled", which we knick named "Perma Press One", to the top o' the hill and began our adventure. Me, My brother Jerry, and Albert loaded onto the board and off we went, using the legs of the ironing board for handles. It wasn't until we were about midway through the ride that we realized we had no way of steering this thing. As we veered to the left we noticed a '68 Catalina, one of the largest cars of that era, parked on the side of the road and approaching us at light speed (Metal + Ice = Supersonic Speed!). When we dove off ol' Perma, we slid about fifty yards or so. Jerry and Albert ended up in a field to the right, while I ricocheted off the Pontiac, into a bush, finally coming to rest in a neighbor's flower garden.

According to Jerry, they thought I was dead. Well, obviously, I wasn't dead, but at that time I wished I were. I had just lay there for a minute, looking for the angels and completing the Rosary. When I didn't see any angels and realized that I was in some amount of pain and my ass was freezing, I got to my feet and started walking back up the hill. About that time Jerry, Albert and Gene came running down and asked if I was alright. As I told them yes, I slipped on the ice, causing me to go down face first into the icy road, resulting in a bloody nose and a cut lip. They decided to carry me the rest of the way before I could kill myself or somebody else.

Alas, the legend of Terry Ellis, the one who would conquer any challenge or be maimed trying, was born. At six years old I had faced death and won...But that was the last time in my life I went sledding on fucking ice without a football uniform on.

Just Who The Hell Is Ron Paul?

To one degree or another, I'm sure you've heard of Ron Paul. To some, he seems like the little pain in the ass who will not go away. To others he is associated with conspiracy theories, a presidential candidate who is being blocked out by unseen forces in the government because of his stance on the Constitution of the United States. Just who the hell is Ron Paul and, more importantly, can he become a serious presidential candidate?

Personally, I like Ron Paul and what be stands for. He is a strict Constitutionalist and, if you actually take time to read or hear his message, makes a lot of sense on the issues we face today.

Known as Dr. No, he has demonstrated time and again his willingness to not only follow the Constitution but also the willingness to listen to his constituents. He believes, as I do, that the Government is abusing it's Constitutional authority by passing laws and regulations, levying taxes, and generally disregarding American sovereignty by entering into foreign trade agreements and being members of organizations such as the United Nations.

The problem I have is not with the man, but the loonies who have jumped on his bandwagon. I have perused personal websites and websites of organizations who support Dr. Paul, and I have to tell you, "THEY" are definitely coming out of the woodwork. The most prominent I see are the conspiracy theorists. These are the people who believe that our country is being run by some shadow government, people who are behind the scenes and call the shots.

Alex Jones, a second rate underground journalist and talk show host based out of Texas, is the kind of people Ron Paul is attracting. If you don't know who Alex Jones is, go to his website and see for yourself. I am acquainted with Mr. Jones from his guest appearances on the overnight talk show Coast to Coast AM. This guy believes in just about every conspiracy theory you can imagine, and then some.

I have also heard Ron Paul supporters call in other talk shows with their talking points. While there are a few who actually make sense, most are the type who will call talk show lines and when it's their turn, they go off topic and spout off about the government conspiracies against Ron Paul and how he will gain the most votes but mysteriously will never win because everything is predetermined by a shadow government.

So far, from what I can tell, Ron Paul hasn't made a serious effort to distance himself from these whack jobs. Why he hasn't baffles me. He is a man with high intelligence, a straight-forward and no nonsense message without a hint of conspiracy. Candidates who are serious about a run for any office will seek out the supporters who they think will do the most damage and do everything in their power to distance themselves from them.

I believe that Dr. Ron Paul would make probably the best President since Ronald Reagan, if not the best president in modern times. He has the right message, the right attitude, and the correct knowledge of how government works. Would I vote for him? Barring any major stumble in his candidacy or his message, I would. Would I campaign for him, or publicly support him? Probably not. Being in public service I would have too much to lose by supporting what the public perceives as a campaign shrouded in conspiracy theories. There is a light of lunacy to his campaign, and even though it's not necessarily his fault, diminishes his chances for even making it out of the primaries.

With supporters like the ones I've mentioned, even George Washington couldn't get elected as president.


Drop a comment and let me know what you think.

The Grasshopper And The Piss-Ant

The earliest time of my life I can remember is when we lived out in the far east side of Fort Worth, an area of town known as Stop 6. The name of the area came about from the fact that it was stop number 6 on the old Fort Worth to Dallas Interurban train. I don't really remember too much about anything of stop 6 except for the immediate area around our house. There was a service station of some kind next door to the west, and a nursery just east. Across the street was Amanda Street, with a small shopping center on one corner. In that shopping center there was a barber shop, and the only reason I can remember that is because there was a shooting one night where the proprietor was shot in the wrist during a robbery. I also remember the huge twin power plants about 5 miles east of our house, known as the Hanley power station. They were probably ten stories high and had a rather large neon "Reddy Kilowatt" on the side of one of the towers.

The neighborhood was somewhat rough from what I can remember. In fact, every area I grew up in down in Texas was rough to one degree or another. Back in the 70's most of the east side of Fort Worth was predominantly black, or as the folks back then called it, "Colored" When my twin brother and I were 5, we moved from Stop 6 to Poly, just up the road to the west. Living in Poly later on probably defined my personality and character more that anything else.

The house we lived in was an older house, with a full-length front porch and an enclosed back, in the style of a Florida room. My family would spend many days and evenings on that back porch. We had no air conditioning, so the porch was a natural gathering place during the hot Texas summers. I can remember having small get-togethers at the house, with everyone congregating on the back porch . My dad would have a beer and sit out there and made hot sauce, wearing rubber gloves to protect his hands from the heat of the Habenaro peppers he would cut. I can also remember the yard we had. It was rather large, especially in the back, with a field of Johnson grass at the very back which led to the train tracks a few hundred yards away.

My dad was a truck driver, working for Foremost Ice Cream and my mom was what is referred to now as a stay at home mom. Now, being good Texas boys, my brother and I would find nine ways to hell to create havoc around the house. We always knew somehow that whatever hell we raised would be punished by mom in the short term, but paid back ten-fold when daddy got home. As this story unfolds, keep in mind that what we consider child abuse nowadays was normal punishment in the 70's down in Texas. To this day, Texas leads the nation in the carrying out of the death penalty, and I truly believe this is no coincidence. Punishment usually consisted of just being yelled at all the way up to the switch.

The switch is a simple device, designed by God and used by mortals, to instill fear in boys all across the Lonestar state. It was an ingenious invention by the Almighty, consisting of one very green thin branch from a bush or tree, thinner that a pencil and as long as a yardstick. It was very flexible, which in the world of physics is a design that ensures maximum velocity at the point of impact. It whistled as it approached your backside, giving you a nanosecond of warning before the blinding pain let you know that God really does believe in "An eye for and eye...".

As a four year old, you want to show that you can carry adult responsibilities and perform tasks that would prove your worthiness to your parents. I don't remember too much of any responsibilities I may have had at that age, but there was one task that I was very fond of, and that was getting the mail from the mailman at the end of the driveway. I relished performing this task, to the point of being obsessive-compulsive. I would use the position of the midday sun as my clock, and would dutifully go to the driveway and await the postman. Day after day I was the Sentinel of the Driveway. Yes, I will take credit for being the creator of OCD.

One day, in the scorching hot Texas sun, my brother and I was out in the back of the yard finding new ways to wreak havoc on our little corner of Stop 6 when I realized that it was past time, according to my sun-clock, to pick up the mail. Now, mom usually would yell for me to let me know that the mailman was coming up the driveway so I could meet him and get my daily parcels. As I walked to a good vantage point in the back yard where I was able to see the driveway, I froze. The mail truck was already turned around and headed back towards Rosedale. I ran to the front of the house, checked the box only to find it empty, and then went inside. I must have had quite a look on my face, because the first thing out of mom's mouth was, "Honey, I yelled for you but you didn't answer".

What happened next will be embedded in my mind until the day that I die.

As I welled up in tears, I blurted out "You Piss-ant!" This was a favorite expression of my mom's, a derogatory phrase usually used in place of 'You sonofabitch'. As the words left my mouth I realized that I was in some deep shit, another one of my moms favorite expressions. At least I didn't compound my predicament by blurting that out too.

Now, the best way to finish this story is to tell it from my brothers point of view.

According to Jerry, he was by now on the back porch playing when he heard my blunder. He immediately heard the front door fly open as my mom yelled "What the hell did you say?". In a about ten seconds he dutifully observed me running around the back side of the house, with my mom about fifty paces behind me. As I left his field of view, my mom would go by. About another thirty seconds and here I came again. Then mom. Terry, mom, Terry, mom, etc. This went on for about ten laps or so until it was just me, no more mom. Although she was no longer behind me, I kept making laps. For Christ's sake, I was running for my life!

In the grand scheme of life, the old saying is oh so true. Age and wisdom will always overcome youth and treachery. Mom knew she couldn't keep pace with me for long because of her advanced age. She also knew that I had to eat sometime. I eventually broke down and, hoping she had cooled down enough to discuss this issue like an adult, went in the house. Now, remember the way cool invention by God designed to instill fear and blinding pain? Well, I sure do.

Luckily, it wasn't paid back ten-fold at 5:oo

Scouting Makes A Difference

If you read some "alternative" news, you have probably seen the Boy Scouts of America come under fire more than once, usually by the ACLU. They have been accused of being everything from homophobic to Christian Extremists (No kidding!).

The ACLU seems like they just drool when they have a chance to represent a person or organization who is against scouting. When parents wanted their daughters to join scouting, probably to make a PC point, and the BSA said no, the ACLU came rushing in saying "You can't discriminate against Females". Why would you want your daughter in "Boy" scouts anyway? The have an organization for girls, and its called Campfire Girls (Brownies included).

I am a scout leader. I have been to a lot of functions where I have met other leaders, and I haven't yet had one spew off about their hate of anyone - including gays. We are just normal people who see scouting as a way for our kids to learn and build character.

Some of the greatest people in history are Eagle Scouts. Earning your Eagle is such a high accomplishment that it is recognized by the President Of The United States as an outstanding achievement. This is because earning your Eagle Scout is no easy accomplishment. I'm not sure what the statistics are, but it's something like only one in ten Boy Scouts earn the rank of Eagle. I currently have two nephews who are Eagles and one who is about to earn his rank. That is a high accomplishment for all three boys in the same family to earn this rank.

My pack, Pack 227, Millersport, Ohio, is one of the most highly decorated Cub Scout packs in the Chief Tarhe District of the Simon Kenton Council. This isn't because we push them to just earn awards. We teach them to serve others in our community with special projects. Even though the leaders are in charge, we let the boys decide what they want to do and how they want to do it.

On January 4, 2006, deputy Ethan Collins of the Fairfield County Ohio Sheriff's Office was killed in the line of duty. The first meeting we had after Ethan's death, we had most of our parents tell us that their boy wanted to do something for him, but they didn't know what. They wanted to raise money for Ethan's family, but I told them that although the money would be nice, we needed to honor his memory and his sacrifice for our community. After several meetings and brainstorming the Scouts found out that I was planning to attend the Fallen Officers Memorial Ceremony in Washington, D.C. the following year where Ethan would be honored. Well, that sealed the deal: Pack 227 was going to Washington for the Memorial.

What followed this decision was mind boggling. For the next year or so, we took on so many fundraising events that I wasn't sure my sanity would be in check afterwards. We did car washes, doughnut sales, rock-a-thons, pancake breakfasts - you name it we did it. And we probably invented a few fund raisers along the way. What we didn't make in fund raising, we had donated to us from prominent and not-so-prominent people in the community. In that year and a half, the Scouts raised enough money to charter a bus, obtain hotel accommodations, and a few site seeing tours for 50 people for three days.

When the time came for the ceremony and memorial, the scouts were outstanding. They were almost held in esteem by officers from various departments throughout the country - and world. Officers saluted them, media adored them, and they were given preferential treatment almost everywhere they went.

One of my favorite memories was when we went to the candlelight vigil the night before the ceremony, and there were so many officers, family, and citizens there that the scouts couldn't see what was going on. Then, a Lieutenant from the Seattle Police Department saw one of the scouts and picked him up and put him high so he could see. Then other officers saw that and before you knew it the scouts were being hoisted up, high in the air, right where they belonged.

I think what summed everything up most to me was when a correspondent from, I think USA Today, asked one of our scouts why they were here, they told her that "We're here for Ethan, because he was here for us". So Simple, so poignant.

Because of their actions in 2006 and 2007, the scouts of pack 227 were allowed to do something that, to my knowledge, has not been allowed in scouting before: they were allowed by the national council of the Boy Scouts Of America to affix a "End Of Watch" pin for Deputy Ethan Collins to their uniforms permanently - a pin unique to pack 227 only that no other pack or troop can wear.

It is because of accomplishments like this that Scouting makes a difference.

Our Tax Dollars At Work

Utah Woman Ordered to Enroll Kids or Lose Custody

Denise Mafi was recently ordered by Juvenile Court Judge Scott Johansen to stop homeschooling and place her children in public school. The penalty? Arrest.

She has now fled Utah to an undisclosed location to avoid being incarcerated.

Let's face it, our public schools are failing our kids. There are some good districts still out there, but for the most part public schools are a mess. They are too worried about political correctness, zero tolerance, and making sure God doesn't offend someone.

Run Denise, run!

Hey, Stop Stealing My Rain!

Now this is one strange story. Basically in a nutshell, some Colorado residents are being told that they are stealing someone else's water, even if it is coming from their own wells. Pay particular attention to the part about the gentleman that wanted to collect rainwater in a cistern...Un freakin' believable!

DC Firefighter Faces Disciplinary Action For Fighting Fire

I won't even comment on this, except to say that in our nation's capital going by the book is more important than life and property. read the story HERE.

Putin...Man of the Year?

Well, well, well...In accordance to their socialist, left-leaning ways, Time magazine has voted Vladimir Putin as Time's "Man Of The Year". In these times of the lefties who want to destroy America, it only seems appropriate to anoint a person who has alluded to a desire to nuke the United States as their man. And, in the age of imminent destruction by global warming, Al Gore was the runner-up. A bully and a fraud...Now that's just peachy. Oh, and by the way, General David Petraeus was also a runner-up, but not before J.K. Rowling of Harry Potter fame. Only in American "Journalism" would an inventor of an imaginary wizard finish as a person of the year in front of a General who has taken a war we were losing and turned it around. God Bless the U.S.S.A.!

Feeding The World...

Global wheat prices are skyrocketing, and the U.N. says it is depleting the supply. Of course, it is all tied back to global warming. That's funny. According to the Washington Times, low temperature records are being set globally. Are you starting to see a pattern here?

Congress Bans incandescent Light Bulbs...

Yep, Congress is at it again. It seems the hair-brained schemes they've pulled aren't enough. While they were busy this past year re-naming 250 or so Post Offices and opening over 300 investigations into the Bush administration's White House, someone on the left side of the aisle realized that they were bringing mother earth closer to burning up by not being green in the way they illuminate the chambers. And the way Americans light their way.

This piece of work will ban all incandescent light bulbs by 2014. The bill, signed by President Bush, calls for all light bulbs to use 30 percent less energy by 2014 and - get this - 70 percent by 2020. The bill also calls for auto efficiency to be raised by 40 percent. And who gets screwed in the end? US!

With Fluorescent bulbs costing 7 to 10 times more, and vehicle prices climbing every year due to over regulation, this is going to make it very difficult on the average American's budget.

I have a better Idea for our Congress: Lets try to get the budget balanced, find a short term solution to energy prices (Anwar...hint hint) and cut our taxes.

Balancing the Budget, Cal-ee-forn-eea Style

California governor Arnold Schwarzenegger announced that he will have to declare a 'Fiscal Emergency" due to a $14 billion budget shortfall. Meanwhile, the State Assembly just passed the first phase of a resolution giving all of it's residents medical insurance...to the tune of $14 billion worth. Geez, I wish I could run my house with such fiscal responsibility.

CAIR and the Bullying of America

Well, The Council on American-Islamic Relations is back at it again, this time making the news three times in the same week. Boy are they staying busy!

The FBI recently released their Hate Crime Statistics for 2006, and it seems to be at odds with CAIR's report of the same time frame. In fact it appears that CAIR's report is greatly exaggerated. They probably take into account every time a Non-Muslim looks at them cross-eyed.

Do a web search for CAIR and you can see they have quite an illustrious history of fabrication.

Also, CAIR has been at war with radio talk show host Michael Savage, waging a boycott on his show citing "Hate Speech".

Well, Savage is fighting back. He has filed a lawsuit in Federal Court, citing CAIR as a "Vehicle of international terrorism", and for misuse of his copyrighted broadcast material.

And for the hat trick...

CAIR was busted out Friday in regards to planting questioners in the audience of the presidential debates. These plants, one of which was the executive director for the Chicago chapter, are posing as ordinary citizens, and asking questions skewed towards the so-called victimization of Muslims. You can link HERE for the rest of the story from World Net daily.

I thinks it's time that we took CAIR over our collective knees and give them a good old fashioned spanking.

The Politics Of The NIE 2007: Iran

Back in 2004, American defense and intelligence officials were given a bombshell report from General Ihor Smeshko, head of the Ukrainian Secret Service.

Intelligence and Pentagon officials were in London discussing WMD's in Iraq with Britain's MI6 when they were advised by General Smeshko that Iran had been attempting to persuade the Ukraine to give them access to their nuclear technology.

John Shaw, who was at that time the Pentagon's deputy secretary for international technology security, stated that, according to Smeshko, the Iranians weren't interested in the technology for energy purposes.

Now, Intelligence officials are saying that Iran is no longer a threat. According to the National Intelligence Estimate (NIE), Iran is continuing their enrichment program but they have ceased any weaponizing attempts. The funny thing is that according the NIE report, Iran halted the program in 2003, a year before the meeting in London.

Obviously, something isn't right here. American Intelligence has insisted for the last couple of years, all they way up to just a few months ago, that Iran is determined to enrich Uranium to develop nuclear weapons. All of a sudden, almost overnight, they have done a complete turnaround.

One major fact that anyone who is following this has to realize is that most of the 700 or so page report remains classified. My curiosity wants to know what else is in that report.

Gut instinct tells me that this report on Iran is purely political in nature. President Bush's war on terror started with noble intentions in Afghanistan. When President Bush pleaded his case to go into Iraq, most politicians were on board. The list of those who were for an Iraq invasion included many of the Democrats that have been calling it an unjust war since they took control of congress, including Harry Reid, John Murtha and Hillary Clinton. With the intelligence we had - and it was good solid intelligence - just about everyone from the top down in Washington thought it was a good idea.

We now have senators and representatives who say that we were lied to. They say President Bush manipulated the intelligence community to give him a reason to go to war. We now have an intelligence community who appear unanimous in their estimate that Iran is no longer a threat. This, by all accounts, seems to be perfectly okay with the current Democrat-led Congress.

As long as the information suits their agenda, they will back the Intelligence agencies 110%, and give them what they want. The authors of the latest NIE report need to be looked at with suspicion. Thomas Fingar, Kenneth Brill and Vann Van Diepen, all former State Department officials, have had an ax to grind with President Bush since the invasion of Iraq in 2003. They have also been very vocal about their opposition to Iranian sanctions.

There are currently a handful in congress now who are beholden to the far left ideology of "Take down Bush at all costs". It seems that I remember a lot of moderates who were not on that bandwagon before the last election who have changed their politics. These are the cowards who will side with only the team that is winning, who seek shelter at any change in the wind.

You just simply can't have it both ways. Intelligence in the United States is political in nature. There are agents and officials jockeying for positions in various cabinets and departments. Being shrouded in secrecy, it is easy to manipulate any data or information to suit ones agenda without much outside scrutiny. All too often, the security of the United States and its citizens are what suffers. Anyone can do just a little research on the internet and see the intelligence failures in just the last fifteen or so years, failures that could have prevented tragedy.

All in all, we don't know, and probably won't know, what is in the rest of the NIE on Iran until we are either old and gray or have passed on. We didn't know everything in 2003 and we sure as hell don't know now. Iran is a threat, and this latest blunder in intelligence has emboldened Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and his regime. He is gaining friends at an alarming pace, friends that are powerful and can inflict damage on the United States on various fronts.

When all is said and done, who will take responsibility for sacrificing American security for the sake of politics?