Playing Pretend

Just try and get me out of your head, Barry.

Dick Cheney's 12/29/09 statement to POLITICO:

"As I’ve watched the events of the last few days it is clear once again that President Obama is trying to pretend we are not at war. He seems to think if he has a low key response to an attempt to blow up an airliner and kill hundreds of people, we won’t be at war. He seems to think if he gives terrorists the rights of Americans, lets them lawyer up and reads them their Miranda rights, we won’t be at war. He seems to think if we bring the mastermind of 9/11 to New York, give him a lawyer and trial in civilian court, we won’t be at war.


“He seems to think if he closes Guantanamo and releases the hard-core al Qaeda trained terrorists still there, we won’t be at war. He seems to think if he gets rid of the words, ‘war on terror,’ we won’t be at war. But we are at war and when President Obama pretends we aren’t, it makes us less safe. Why doesn’t he want to admit we’re at war? It doesn’t fit with the view of the world he brought with him to the Oval Office. It doesn’t fit with what seems to be the goal of his presidency – social transformation—the restructuring of American society. President Obama’s first object and his highest responsibility must be to defend us against an enemy that knows we are at war."

"No Indication."

Me hold gun, look like warrior!

So our Homeland Security Sec says that there is no indication that Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab is part of a larger plot. Even though Abdulmutallab told FBI agents interrogating him something like "I'm part of a larger plot."

Oh, and there's the fact that Al Queda has claimed credit for this whole to-do.

But no indication that the botched Christmas crotch bomb was all part of something bigger. Nope.

Insufferable

"Portrait of a loser"

Here's what I want to know. Why was this piece of human debris presiding over the Senate? This idiot couldn't successfully preside over the dunking of a donut in a cup of coffee.

For Franken to deny a routine courtesy to Senator Lieberman, just for the sake of spite, speaks volumes to the world about what a skidmark on the underwear of society the junior Senator from Minnesota is.

Few things make me really, really angry anymore about politics. The farce that is Senator Al Franken is one of those few things. It is exceedingly difficult not to despise this worthless wad of bloody phlegm.

Smackdown, Texas Style

The Architect gives Obama a much needed, long overdue taking over the knee.

Favorite quote:

...This kind of attack gives Mr. Obama's words a slippery quality. For example, he voted for the bank rescue plan in September 2008 and praised it during the campaign. Yet on Dec. 8 at the Brookings Institution, Mr. Obama called it "flawed" and blamed "the last administration" for launching it "hastily."

Really? Bush Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson, Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke and New York Fed President Timothy Geithner designed it. If it was "flawed," why did Mr. Obama later nominate Mr. Bernanke to a second term as Fed chairman and make Mr. Geithner his Treasury secretary?

What it's all about

So a little boy in Taunton MA gets sent home from school and "ordered to undergo a psychological evaluation" after drawing this picture for an assignment to "sketch something that remind[ed him] of Christmas."

Stories here and here.

Now I know what you're thinking. "How dare the boy's teacher use the word "Christmas" in a public school!" No, actually you're not thinking that, because no normal, sane person thinks that way. But such (pardon the redundancy) insane political correctness (pervasive in our culture to the extent that Lowes now sells "Holiday Trees," and Target eschews the Salvation Army bell ringers at Christmas time) is a symptom of the sort of depraved mentality that would cause a teacher to be horrified by a depiction of one of the Stations of the Cross. Growing up Catholic, I observed images similar to this boy's depiction every day in Parochial school and every Sunday at mass. Does this boy's teacher, principal, superintendent, school board, etc., believe that parochial school should be closed, and all the students therein subjected to psychiatric evaluation?

But more to the point. My first response when I read this article was "when I think of Christmas, I am reminded of the crucifixion too." Of what does this idiot teacher suppose Christmas is to remind one? Santa? Tell the kid to draw a picture of Santa. Or a tree. Or Washington crossing the Delaware on Christmas night, 1776 (as if there's anything laudable in THAT). The point is, for a lot of people, Christmas is about the first six letters in the word "Christmas." For a lot of people, it is about Jesus Christ coming into the world. So that He could preach that He is "the way, the truth and the life," and that none would come to the Father except through Him; to demonstrate, through miraculous signs and wonders, that He was who He said He was (and is)--God; to raise up and train the men who would lead His conquest of souls, and then, most importantly, to die. Jesus Christ was born to die. To be slain, as payment for the sins of mankind. And to rise, as Lord and Savior to all who would believe in him and receive his atonement for them.

It is impossible for me to think about Christmas and not think about the fact that it is about a little baby who was born precisely to die. For me. I don't know that an eight year old could have drawn a more appropriate picture of the meaning of Christmas. If anyone needs psychiatric help, it's his teacher.

Merry Muppets

Via Hotair:



Merry Christmas

Kinda says it all, don't it?

Photo currently under the banner on Drudge.

Gadzooks.

Meant to post this yesterday.

...a six degree per century trend? And in the shape of a regular stepped pyramid climbing to heaven? What’s up with that?

LOL of the Day.

"A" is for...

"Not a Baby."

HT Ed Morrissey

Oh. My. Word.

There is absolutely no way that Harry Reid will not be forced to offer some kind of retraction, if not apology, for this statement.

Apparently Harry failed to learn from Dick Durbin's little snafu. Reid rushes in where fools fear to tread.

Bah-dum-bah.

Hey kids, here's a fun game. Unfortunately I can't get this all in one browser so there's a little setup work on your part.

Step 1: Open this link in another window. Minimize both windows so they fit side by side on your monitor.

Step 2: watch this video, and every time he finishes a sentence, push the red button in the other browser window.

THAT'll Learn 'em!

Steven Hayward, the only man to ever accurately report on the link between Saddam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden, shares an email (on which he was cc'd)from U of I Global Cooling Denier Michael Schlesinger to NT Times Science Reporter Andy Revkin. The gist: Mike is peeved at Andy for what he perceives to be Andy's less than total devotion to the party line.

The bestest exerpt evah:

But, I sense that you are about to experience the 'Big Cutoff' from those of us who believe we can no longer trust you, me included.

Dude, it makes about as much sense for you to refuse to play nice with the NY Times as it would have made for Stalin to spurn Times reporter Walter Durranty. Never bite the hand that spins the illusion for you.

Bizarro World

Wouldja believe...

What Bizarro World do we live in where the views of a global warming skeptic are reported as if they are credible?

I have to resist the eyeroll impulse at the Express's reporting certain long-known facts as if they are just coming to light for the first time (the Vikings grew crops in Greenland during the middle ages? The HELL you say!). Still, better late that never.

Update on Climate Change Snowjob

Eduardo Zorita, PhD, one of the contributors to the UN IPCC, weighs in on the scandal of the millennium.

A few items of note:

One, we have an IPCC contributor reiterating in print, again, that the "hockey stick" graph is a lie.

Two, he notes, almost casually, the history of intimidation behind this tight knit bunch of con artists. He makes mention that his own career may suffer for speaking out against Jones, Mann & Co. and also comments on the pressure put on up and coming scientists to tow the AGW line.

So much for impartial objectivity and the rigorous pursuit of scientific truth.

Jeff "Skunk" Baxter

Possibly the most underrated, undernoticed, underappreciated guitarist ever, showing how it's done in an instructional video. Far worse ways to spend 10 minutes of your life.

Plus the Japanese subtitles are trippy.

Washington's Thanksgiving Proclamation

City of New York, Oct. 3, 1789

Whereas it is the duty of all Nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty God, to obey his will, to be grateful for his benefits, and humbly to implore his protection and favor, and Whereas both Houses of Congress have by their joint Committee requested me “to recommend to the People of the United States a day of public thanks-giving and prayer to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many signal favors of Almighty God, especially by affording them an opportunity peaceably to establish a form of government for their safety and happiness.”


Now therefore I do recommend and assign Thursday the 26th. day of November next to be devoted by the People of these States to the service of that great and glorious Being, who is the beneficent Author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be. That we may then all unite in rendering unto him our sincere and humble thanks, for his kind care and protection of the People of this country previous to their becoming a Nation, for the signal and manifold mercies, and the favorable interpositions of his providence, which we experienced in the course and conclusion of the late war, for the great degree of tranquillity, union, and plenty, which we have since enjoyed, for the peaceable and rational manner in which we have been enabled to establish constitutions of government for our safety and happiness, and particularly the national One now lately instituted, for the civil and religious liberty with which we are blessed, and the means we have of acquiring and diffusing useful knowledge and in general for all the great and various favors which he hath been pleased to confer upon us.


And also that we may then unite in most humbly offering our prayers and supplications to the great Lord and Ruler of Nations and beseech him to pardon our national and other transgressions, to enable us all, whether in public or private stations, to perform our several and relative duties properly and punctually, to render our national government a blessing to all the People, by constantly being a government of wise, just and constitutional laws, discreetly and faithfully executed and obeyed, to protect and guide all Sovereigns and Nations (especially such as have shown kindness unto us) and to bless them with good government, peace, and concord. To promote the knowledge and practice of true religion and virtue, and the encrease of science among them and Us, and generally to grant unto all Mankind such a degree of temporal prosperity as he alone knows to be best.

Now I can die happy.

HT Allahpundit

Tee Hee

UPDATE 3: A reminder to Global Warming devotees who wish to debunk the claim that global temps haven't risen since 1998: said claim was issued by the very people they now seek to defend. Which kinda sorta of means they're on the hook to accept the "1998" assertion as fact...right? Or does their defense of the CRU only extend to explaining away damning emails?

UPDATE 2: A refresher on the "Hockey Stick" Fraud seems in order, since some of the Climategate "scientists" were the self same fabricators of this lie.

UPDATE: Robert Tracinski touches on all the salient points thus far, and points out on thing that the others have all missed: the criminality of this scam.

No Schadenfreude here

It's over

If these brave SEALs are convicted for the crime of which they are accused, namely, giving terrorist scumbag Ahmed Hashim Abed a fat lip, then Western Civilization is dead. We might as well all bend over, grab ankles and let the barbarian savages have their way with us.

That these fine men are even being brought up on charges is a travesty. Abed was the mastermind of the murder of four Blackwater sercurity guards in Fallujah in 2004. You might remember that the corpses of those American civilians were dragged through the streets and some were then hanged from a bridge spanning the Euphrates. You might remember how the international community of vultures known as "The Press" flocked to that bridge to photograph those bodies, thus giving Abed and his fellow terrorists a much larger platform by which to broadcast their "message." You might remember how Markos Moulitsas eulogized those murdered Americans with those two little words, "screw 'em."

Much like the New York City trial of Khalid Sheik Muhammed, the treatment of these three brave Navy SEALs in this fashion is the re-gouging and liberal application of salt to a wound just barely beginning to heal. If our brave men and women in the Armed Forces are rewarded with such contempt for their heroism, it will be small wonder if fewer and fewer of them enlist. The decision to prosecute these enlisted men can be traced back to the limp wristed policies of liberal, self-loathing civilians. When simply arresting a villain like Abed has become for our protectors an act of altruism, it makes me wonder how much more abuse our protectors will take before they decide that we can fend for ourselves.

Bye Bye, Twitter

So I deleted my Twitter account yesterday.

I actually sort of deleted it once before, but being a weak man, I re-enstated it within the grace period that Twitter allows for wishy washy types like me to change their minds. This time, it's a done deal. Not saying I'll never open another Twitter account, but I'm going to stay away for the indefinite future.

I love Twitter. Probably too much. It's a great deal of fun to try to express a thought in 140 characters or less. And it was far more dynamic experience to engage with the 1,800 or so people who were following me there, than jotting my thoughts down here, where they may or may not ever be seen by the 4 people who may or may not still be followers of this blog.

But I realized I didn't like the person I was projecting on Twitter. Twitter had, for me, almost exclusively become a forum to type sarcastic and mean spirited things about liberals generally and Obama specifically. My chief aim in life is to glorify Christ. I am, in John Piper's words, "to make Christ look magnificent." To say that some of my tweets fell short of that is an understatement in the extreme. My heart is prone to sarcasm and bile. I revel in it. I have at times fancied myself an artist of the medium. I have been an idiot and I have harmed the cause of Christ.

And since I'm not the sort of person to tweet things like "Standing in line at TJ Maxx. Sale on bedding!" or the sort of Christian who tweets prayers or verses that no one is going to bother reading, I decided that there was really no use for Twitter anymore.

This is not to say I won't continue to excoriate liberal idiocy on this blog.

It seems like the previous statement should be followed with a "but..." but I really don't have anything to add to that.

Velvet Elvis

The following is a letter to my pastor, who several years ago gave me a copy of Rob Bell's Velvet Elvis. We'd had a few conversations about the Emergent Church and he was interested in my take on Bell's book.

Hi ___. After about 5 years or so I've finally finished Rob Bell's book Velvet Elvis. Since you went to the trouble of buying it for me I figure I might as well go to the trouble of telling you what I think. Because you know how hard I find it to share my opinion about anything.

Rob Bell strikes me as a great guy. It's clear he loves Jesus and he loves people. He has a sincere desire to see the hurt and broken find restoration in Jesus. As you might imagine I have problems with some of his theology. I'll just try to hit a few key points:

Bell has a real problem with this or that person or denomination saying they have a "definitive" understanding of the Bible. Which is all well and good, if any of us claim to have a pure revelation of what God would communicate to us, we might as well write it down and tack it on to the end of the Bible. But Bell takes this to the extreme of almost saying it's impossible to really understand God's word. As he puts it "only God is absolute, and he has no intention of sharing his absoluteness with anyone." (Really? Does that include things like truth?) He calls the Christian faith a "paradox" to which we "never come to the end," (really? Not even in Heaven?) and goes so far as to quote "one of the great theologians of our time, Sean Penn," who said "the mystery is the truth." (in response, I quote the great theologian Me, who said, "what the flipping flarn is that supposed to mean?") The amalgamation of truth, and thus, the principles of our theology, should not be thought of as "bricks," which are static and inflexible and rough and which together form a wall to keep people out; but as "springs" on a trampoline, which are pliable and flexible and change, and which invite us to jump on the trampoline of faith to which they are attached.

Of course my immediate response to this is, when it comes to one's theology, how stretchy is too stretchy? Can we make God into a woman? Can we make the Trinity a quartet? After all, if only God is absolute, and if he's not going to share his absoluteness with anyone, let's have some fun with our theology, because, you know, it's all relative.

Also, Bell wants to have his cake and eat it too with this. After waxing ecstatic about his happy stretchy laughy taffy theology, he writes things like:

"But sometimes when I hear people quote the Bible, I just want to throw up."

And: "Sometimes when people are backing up their points and the Bible is used to prove that they are right, everything within me says "There is no way that's what God meant by that verse."

Now hold on a minute there, Tex. Don't go lobbing bricks at other people's trampolines. After all, as you say,"God has spoken, and the rest is commentary."

Well, if the "mystery is the truth," and we therefore can't really figure out which ways to interpret scripture are the right ways or the wrong ways (except those ways that Rob KNOWS are wrong. Trust him. He's a pastor.), where do we go from there?

Well, this brings us to the second point about Bell's theology that I'm not so wild about: he doesn't seem to leave enough room for God to help us not screw it up, and grants too much room for human beings working together to come to the right conclusions. Here's another excerpt:

"Notice what Jesus says in the book of Matthew: "I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven; whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth with be loosed in heaven."

"What he is doing here is significant. He is giving his followers the authority to make new interpretations of the Bible. He is giving them permission to say 'Hey, we think we missed it before on that verse, and we've recently come to the conclusion that this is what it actually means."

"And not only is he giving them authority, but ...somehow God in heaven will be involved."

Now to be fair, Bell at least allows God to be "involved" in this. But [in this passage] Jesus was not giving "his followers", i.e., every Christian everywhere, this special authority (whatever in fact this "binding and loosing" is referring to). No, Jesus gives this authority to one person in particular: Peter, the person to whom he is speaking in the quote. Jesus gave Peter the revelation of God to write things that we now identify as scripture. Is Rob Bell saying that we have all been given this authority?

He doesn't go that far. But he spends a long time talking about this "binding and loosing" thing, suggesting, as in the quote above, that Jesus gives "his followers the authority to make new interpretations of the Bible." Does this make you a little leery? It does me. How do we prevent Christians from taking scripture and riding a one-way train to crazy town? Why, through other flawed human beings holding each other accountable, of course. Bell says this about the early church: "They gather together and make interpretations of the Bible regarding what it will look like for millions of people to be Christians."

Um, I thought, like, the early church was led by these apostle dudes, who had, like, the direct revelation of the Holy Spirit, and um, like, wrote things that weren't interpretations of scripture, but the scriptures themselves? Or something?

Oh well, at least we know that "somehow God will be involved." What's the worst that could happen? David Koresh? Who's that?

I jest a bit and he does say in other places in the book that he affirms that the Bible is "inspired" (no potential ambiguity in that term). But I'm disturbed that so much of Bell's theology rests on a bunch of humans rolling the dice and using their best guesses as they blindly cobble together this thing called Christianity, as opposed to the providence of God enabling them to work alongside God as God brings about what God wants. Bell has an extraordinarily high view of humanity and portrays a very laid-back God--indeed a God of borderline deism, who "has spoken," but has stepped back to allow his people to provide "commentary."

Consider this: " What do we find frustrates [Jesus] to no end? When his disciples lose faith in themselves... Notice how many places Jesus gets frustrated with his disciples. Because they are incapable? No, because of how capable they are...It isn't their failure that's the problem, it's their greatness."

Silly me, I thought Jesus got miffed when they lost faith in him, not themselves.

And this: "Jesus himself leaves the future of the movement in their hands. And he doesn't stick around to make sure they don't screw it up. He's gone."

Maybe it's my increasing lurch toward Calvinism, but I find that this is a borderline blasphemous statement about God's sovereignty. Jesus hasn't left anything in their hands, at least not exclusively. He is in control, right now.

Lastly I guess I'm concerned by Bell's apparent lack of concern for the lost. Bell is very concerned with loving people and introducing them to the love of Christ. He doesn't seem so concerned with whether they make it into the kingdom of Heaven or not. To his credit, he talks about sin, about the atonement of the cross, about hell. But he doesn't make much distinction between what he calls "hell on earth" and Hell in the eternal sense:

"The church must stop thinking about everybody primarily in the categories of in or out, saved or not, believer or nonbeliever. Besides the fact that these terms are offensive to those who are the "un" and "non," they work against Jesus' teachings about how we are to treat each other." How does that follow, exactly? How does recognizing that some people are saved and some are not translate AT ALL into how we are supposed to treat people? Are we to love the lost any less? Don't remember reading that. This is a complete straw man. As to the notion of being "offensive." Do people who are not Christians, get offended when identified as non Christians? Is that a pejorative somehow? Does the driver of a Chevy Impala get offended when you point out that their car is not a Buick Sable? If Bell is talking about screaming "sinner!" at people of course I agree with him, but who does that anymore? Can we let that hackneyed stereotype go? Can we recognize that it's actually a good thing to want people to be saved, in fact that it is very loving thing?

Apparently not, for about evangelism, he says "when there is an agenda, it isn't really love, is it?" To which I respond, so I didn't love ____ when I set out to win her as my wife? Of course love has an agenda. And furthermore, I say Rob Bell is a liar, [because he does have an agenda:]if Rob Bell doesn't have an agenda on Sunday morning, namely, to draw people into a deeper relationship with God, then I say Rob Bell is unloving.

Then there's this: "What's disturbing is when people talk more about hell after this life than they do about hell here and now." he refers to a genocide in Rwanda as "A hell on earth." I don't want to diminish the dreadfulness of any human suffering, ever. But quite frankly, the worst day humanity has ever had is nothing compared to an eternity removed from the presence of God. Genocide doesn't even come close. I get it that Rob Bell has a passion for people, I really do. I'm shamed by my own lack of compassion in comparison. But this theology runs the risk, if I may turn a phrase, of being "so earthly minded that it's of no heavenly good." Bell makes it clear that he isn't interested in people being saved so much as loved (again, he's the one who says we have to stop thinking about people as "saved or not") and I'm afraid he's loving people right into hell.

Aaand, I'm just throwing this one in as a parting shot. I'm sorry. I'm a weak man. Here's Bell's definition of a Christian:

"My understanding is that to be a Christian is to do whatever it is that you do with great passion and devotion."

Really? What if you're a prostitute?

Let me know what you think. If I sound acerbic please understand that I'm attacking the man's ideas and not the man. Rob Bell comes across like a great guy and if met him I'm sure I'd like him a lot and want to hang around him. I know he's an old acquaintance of yours so I hope you realize this is nothing personal.

I guess in closing, I'll say, I know you mentioned that the [my church] uses some of Bell's resources for small groups, and I have to say that having read this book, it bugs me. Not a whole heck of a lot, but some. However, if ____ and ____ chose to embrace Bell's theology on Sunday morning, I think that would probably prompt us to find a new church.

Take care.

Who you gonna believe, Al or your own eyes?

Hacked emails show that even global warming activists aren't smoking what they're selling.

This on the heels of the news that Al Gore was photoshopping pics of gaia.

But fear not, all ye baldfaced liars. We increasingly think you are all full of crap anyway, so it's not like this is going to cause a backlash. On with the show.

Am I killing? Yup.

At least this guy knows what a ________ he is.

Magically Delicious

This is an O'Keefe video that I will post. Back from his college days, protesting Rutgers' racially insensitive policy of selling Lucky Charms in their dining halls. Get ready to laugh.

Part I


Part II

OMG II

UPDATE on previous ACORN sting vid post: Another video, this time in San Diego. No murder confessions or former madams in this one folks. No, all that happens this time is that the ACORN staffer advises them to move their operation to Tijuana so as to avoid US Law Enforcement. "Trust the Mexican people," he says.

Oh, and he also offers to become Giles and O'Keefe's business partner.

Oh, and he would also like to hire Giles for her services.

If I sound like I'm not alarmed, it's because every time I think ACORN can't get any lower, they do. At this point I wouldn't be suprised if there's another video in which an ACORN staffer actually trots out an underage girl for the Giles and O'Keefe's characters to use to drum up business.

Heh.

from Cuffy Meigs [H/T Ed Morrissey]

Oh My God.

So I've been following, but haven't wanted to post, the videos made by James O'Keefe and Hannah Giles that have been trickling out over the past few days. There are now at least three videos filmed at ACORN branches(the first in Washington DC, the second in New York, and the third, described below, in San Bernadino California) of which I'm aware in which O'Keefe and Giles, posing respectively as a pimp and a prostitute, sit down with ACORN staffers and receive advice on how to set up a prostitution business without getting caught. In these videos they not only are completely open about the business they propose to start, but also go to pains to point out that their intent is to smuggle in underage girls from other countries. In every instance, the ACORN staffers, rather than recoil in horror or threaten to call the police, willingly and enthusiastically advise the two undercover journalists on exactly how to go about engaging in human trafficking without getting caught.

Reaction to these videos thus far has been interesting. The Census Bureau announced almost immediately that they will no longer do business with ACORN. The Senate finally got around to voting to de-fund them yesterday. Interestingly, the mainstream media has universally decided to avoid this story, with Charlie Gibson today going so far as to suggest he'd never heard of any of this before today (His colleague at ABC, Jake Tapper, first reported on this story last Friday). As with the Van Jones story, my hat is off to Glenn Beck for dragging this story into the limelight. ACORN, for their part, has continued to posture sanctimonious (the have at least fired the staffers who appeared in the first two videos), claimed these were only isolated incidents, and has even gone so far as to threaten to sue the undercover reporters.

That's more or less where things stood until earlier today, when O'Keefe and Giles released a new video which will be all but impossible for the MSM to ignore. In this video, filmed at the San Bernadino ACORN chapter, Keefe and Giles more or less go through their same routine, only this time the staffer goes beyond just being helpful. Herself a former madam, the staffer not only lets the masquerade pimp and hooker in on the tips, and, if you will...tricks, of the trade, but also lets slip that she murdered her own husband after carefully and methodically plotting to make it look like self defense. Not only that, but the staffer threatens, on camera, to murder another individual to whom she had previously sent Keefe and Giles to receive further advice.

It would be suicide for the MSM not to get on the bandwagon at this point. Here's hoping they opt for suicide.

As with the other videos, I'm choosing not to post this latest one. But is so much more of a bombshell than even the previous two videos (I still can't believe that's possible), that i'll link it here. There are some gratuitous cheesecake shots of Giles decked out in her ho costume, caveat reader.

Your President's buddies, folks. Your President's buddies.

2 Million

You go, my brethren and sisth..ren.

Silent no more. A majority still.

Details here.

Look at that picture. Heckuva lot o' voters there. If this doesn't kill the "health insurance reform" bill and the rest of the democrats' ultraliberal agenda (remember, the Senate still has to vote on the Cap & Tax bill that Congress passed. With the help of this piece of trash RINO who wants to be my next Senator), I don't know what will.

Oh wait, yes I do. The midterms!!

MJ

I didn't want to discuss this on the day it happened, for obvious reasons, but I must take a moment to congratulate Michael Jeffrey Jordan on his induction into the Basketball Hall of Fame.

Michael Jordan was, is, and forever will be the greatest basketball player in the universe.

It is impossible to put into words what Michael Jordan meant to the game of basketball and what he meant to Chicago sports fans. His era--no, not the era in which he played--was something that I don't know will ever be paralleled. Even if my Cubbies ever win the World Series, I still don't think it will be the same.

As a fan of any sport, I have never had the kind of assurance that my team was going to win the way I did during Michael's era. Err, that is, once the spell of the Detroit Pistons was finally broken. And, there was that first partial season back from retirement, the last regrettable play of which was a generous Jordan feed to the fat and regrettable Luc Longley. But let's not dwell there.

Okay, I'll dwell there for just a second longer, just to say this. I will never forget the date I bought my Les Paul. March 18, 1995. What does this have to do with basketball, you ask? Well, as I was driving out of the Guitar Center lot with my new guitar, I turned on the radio and was greeted by two words. "I'm back."

For each of the six years of the era of Michael that the Bulls won the championship, you just knew they were going to win the championship. You just knew it. It was not not going to happen.

I remember during the '97 finals against the Jazz, the day of game 5. The series was tied 2-2, with the Jazz having won games 3 and 4. My boss was worried because momentum seemed to be going the way of Utah. "Relax," I told her. "This is Michael Jordan we're talking about. We're going to win."

That night, Jordon scored 38 points. With the stomach flu. The Bulls won that night, and the next. Done deal.

I won't go all girly describing his numerous other superhuman plays and feats, including the last basket he ever made as a Bull.



Oops, how'd that get there?

I'm also not going to dwell too much on his personal life. Like most professional athletes, he's had flaws a plenty, and he's done plenty of things that have disappointed me or ticked me off. I'd rather not go there right now. I'd rather just sit here in amazement and think that Chicago, my home town, the town whose professional teams just don't win, plain and simple (what, you expect some love from me for the South Side Apemen?), once had this man. And I got to watch him. I got to watch his entire career as a Bull. Like the song says, they can't take that away from me.

[H/T Girlontheright]

UPDATE: In honor of 9/11 and it's stark and necessary reminder that evil exists and must be fought until our dying breaths, I'm adding a video presentation I put together a while ago that presents many different faces of evil. I deliberately chose not to include footage of 9/11 in this piece. I'm not sure why, maybe it's too sacred. But this video nevertheless seems appropriate to share it on a day for reflection on all that we hold dear, all that we must preserve, and all that must be fought, to the death if necessary. It's set to the tune of Mad World by Gary Jules, a particularly haunting and beautiful song. I was perhaps trying to do to much with this so my apologies if it moves too fast. Also the resolution seems to be a bit worse for wear from the youtube conversion and the font size is a little small if you don't full screen it.

God bless. God bless America.

Stupid White Fat Bastard

I'LL EAT YOUR BABY!

Capitalism is Evil, concludes stupid white fat bastard Michael Moore in his latest film.

Don't recall reading anywhere in the article that Moore plans not to keep any profit that his film generates. Perhaps that speaks to the level of optimism that it will generate any.

One Less Fat Lecherous Liberal Drunk

So Teddy Kennedy died.

I suppose one is obligated to offer some comment when someone as historically significant as Theodore Kennedy passes. But really, what is there to say? His politics were a detriment to the health of his country. He partook in the most vile sort of partisan ad hominem and bile over the course of his career. His personal behavior was beyond repugnant. He was a fat, lecherous liberal drunk who got away with murder.

I realize I'm speaking ill of the dead, and perhaps some of my recent tweets were beyond the pale. Or maybe not. I'll reprint them here for your consideration:






Ted Kennedy got kicked out of Harvard for cheating, and was let back in. Ted Kennedy left a girl to drown in 7 feet of water and didn't report it for over ten hours. Ted Kennedy led the inquisitions against Supreme Court nominees Robert Bork and Clarence Thomas. About his political views, I don't have much to say. He was a liberal, I'm not, we had mutually exclusive views about what is good for the country. I can't really damn him for not agreeing with me. But there are liberals out there like Joe Lieberman, or like the late Sen. Paul Simon, who hold or held views that I think are wrong and harmful for the country, and yet at the same time are not utter douchebags as people.

A final thought about Chappaquiddick and the sad short life of Mary Jo Kopechne. If I were to drive off a bridge at night, and plunge into a body of water, I can't honestly say what I would do as the water rushed in and as panic immediately ensued. In fact, there is a stretch of road near my house where the curb comes perilously close--a mere 5 feet away--from a small lake. Many times as I've driven along that stretch I have prayed and asked God that if anything were to happen as either my wife or I were driving our minivan with our three kids in the back--and our van plunged into that lake--that God would give my wife or me the grace, courage and wherewithal to get everyone out safely. I've never been underwater inside a car at night; and never having been in that situation, while I can chest pound and talk tough all I want, the fact of the matter is I can't guarantee what I would do.

But I'm pretty sure of this: If I were in that car with a woman who was not my wife, and if I was drunk as a skunk, and if I then went about trying to cover and obfuscate and create a story to save my own skin while the girl's corpse was sitting trapped in a car underwater... Well, let's just say at the very least I would recognize that it was the end of any hopes I had ever harbored for a career in public service.

But truthfully, I don't see myself, in that situation, stopping there. Because while I am a flawed human being, and while I do screw up a lot, I have this thing called a conscience. And I think that had I not damn near killed myself trying to get that girl out of the water, and failing at that, had not immediately contacted law enforcement to report what I had done, well, let's just say the next time I got into my car, I might have been sorely tempted to first close the garage door and snake a hose from the exhaust pipe through driver's side window.

The Last Kennedy Brother

According to Chris Matthews, anyway. What Mama Rose didn't know didn't hurt her, apparently.

When will we FINALLY overcome race and elect a black man President of the United States, people? WHEN?

Levity

Letter to the Editor, Daily Herald

To: fencepost@dailyherald.com

August 19, 2009

I'm a voter in the 8th district who is absolutely disgusted with the flagrant disregard that Congresswoman Melissa Bean has shown her constituents over the recess.

As a father of three, one of whom has special needs, I have an enormous stake in the health care bill that awaits Congress when it convenes next month. I have called the Congresswoman’s office just about every day since the recess began to inquire about town halls or an opportunity to meet Bean at her office. An enterprising undergrad could fashion a considerably entertaining drinking game out of the stonewalling that met my every call.

Every time the staffer says “the schedule is still being finalized,” take a shot!

Every time they say take your contact info and say “we’ll get back to you, “two shots and a Jäger bomb!"

I did not find out about tonight’s “tele-townhall” as a result of anyone getting back to me. I learned of it when I called Bean’s office yesterday. Bean’s staffer took my phone number and assured me that I would be connected to the conference call.

They were true to their word. I was connected to tonight’s call, but was not one of the lucky few who got to speak to Bean. I listened to the “meeting”, and after Bean disconnected I had the opportunity to make my feelings known in a voice recording that Bean will probably never hear.

This method of communicating with constituents is unacceptable. If we can get out and vote for our public officials, they can take one day per recess to meet with us face to face. Were she otherwise flawless, I would still say that Bean should be defeated in the next election for this snub to the 8th District.

Geoff White

Melissa the Coward

My previous escapades with Melissa Bean's office have been blogged upon here.

Despite my skepticism, Bean's people were true to their word and connected me with the call. I was pleasantly surprised.

Of course this "tele-townhall" was still a carefully controlled environment, and who knows how many of the other people in the line were plants. The event was basically set up like a talk radio show, where you wait in a queue and get connected when and for as long (or as brief) as they wish.

All of the calls were screened in advance. One of Bean's staffers connected with me to ask what my question was. Alas, I let the cat out of the bag that I wasn't going to be a softball call, and--coincidence, most certainly!--my turn with the Congresswoman never came.

This method of communicating with one's constituents is completely unacceptable. If we can get off our asses and go out and vote for our public officials, they can take a day out of their recess to meet with us face to face. If we're worthy of their pleas for our votes, we're worthy of an in-person meeting. In fact I think there ought to be legislation mandating this, with an obligatory congressional censure for any representatives that fail to comply.

Were she flawless in every other way, I would still say that Congresswoman Bean should be defeated in the next election for this blantant demonstration of disregard for her constituents.

Here's a summary of my tweets of the event, from most recent to oldest:

#Beanteletownhall: Well, surprise surprise! My turn with the old Bean never came.
less than 5 seconds ago from web

#Beanteletownhall OH MY WORD. Bean just said that public option would be self sustaining and not dependent upon tax dollars.
24 minutes ago from web

#Beanteletownhall: "budget-neutral" doesn't mean no new taxes.
32 minutes ago from web

#Beanteletownhall now she's trying to say that the co-ops will be exclusively at the state level. Right.
43 minutes ago from web

#Beanteletownhall what a farce. One of Bean's todies just got online to ask "what my question is." Yeah, they're gonna let me talk to her.
about 1 hour ago from web

#Beanteletownhall She just praised herself for supporting Cash for Clunkers.
about 1 hour ago from web

#Beanteletownhall Blah blah blah, I included a measure on water treatment...
about 1 hour ago from web

#Beanteletownhall now patting herself on back for voting for porkulus.
about 1 hour ago from web

#Beanteletownhall Right now she's reading her CV. I'm on this committee, that committee, blah blah blah
about 1 hour ago from web

I got the call! Joining Bean's conference call right now. Any requests?
about 1 hour ago from web

Elevators And The Nanny State

Occasionally my work requires me to walk to a high rise office building about two blocks away from my office. The other day, as I entered the lobby, I found that the usual panel with the little "up" and "down" buttons, ubiquitous to elevators everywhere, had been removed. Instead of that familiar elevatorial sight, there was a rather ATM-ish looking kiosk in the middle of the lobby. On it, above a keypad, was a screen which read "enter the floor of your destination." I punched in the number ten, and was instructed to proceed to my assigned hoist, elevator "E."

I complied passively, and moved toward the closed doors of elevator "E," which at the moment was on some other floor. I experienced some mild annoyance as the doors to elevators other than "E" opened with a beep to let their passengers on or off. To make matters worse, there were building attendants in the lobby directing traffic, as if we were all too stupid to recognize the first five or six letters of the alphabet. Another elevator opened, and for a moment the thought "screw it, I'll just take this one" crossed my mind; but as I moved toward this open elevator that was not "E," I beheld a most distressing sight: a little display on the inside of the elevator's doorway, placed there no doubt to prevent naughty little passengers like myself from doing what I was about to do, informed me that the elevator in question that was not "E" was programmed for that particular run to stop at floors 11 and 20 exclusively. Since I was bound for floor 10, not 11 or 20, I moved back toward the doors to elevator "E" with a woebegone schuffle.

Before long, elevator "E" arrived, and I boarded the elevator eager to be about my business on the tenth floor and then to beat as hasty a retreat as possible from the building with these conveyors of denigration. Upon entering the lift, I met with a second surprise, this one even more nauseating: The console with all the buttons I was used to pushing, the one into which I had absently poked commands times before, had been covered by a metallic box. They didn't just remove the console and replace it with something useful like a mirror, or at least made the area blend in with the rest of the wall. No, they slapped on a large, obnoxious, unavoidable protrusion about the size and shape of a large Fed Ex box. There it hung, bolted there as if to mock me, as if to say, "oh, the buttons are still here. They haven't been removed; they're now within my shiny gold plated confines, safe and sound. But they're not for you, nondescript, unimportant person. We command your destiny now. Content yourself that we are taking you to your destination, and worry yourself not with the details." A small key lock toward the bottom of the box, it too seemingly placed prominently, as if to taunt me, served as a rueful reminder that somewhere within the building, at that very moment, some BIG SHOT with the key could have accessed those buttons if he wanted to. Oh, yes. He could.

I arrived on the tenth floor and realized that I had really wanted the eleventh floor.

After an abbreviated reenactment of the humiliating ritual I was on floor eleven. At least I'm still allowed to open the frigging office door, I thought, as I entered the foreordained suite. I picked up the documents for which I had come, and I couldn't help asking one of the young ladies in the office what she thought of the new elevator system. Much like myself, she despised them. She couldn't say for certain whether the cars came or went faster or not, she (like I) simply knew she hated the assigned rides.

I walked back to the bank of elevators and obediently typed the ground floor as my destination in the console. One other fellow waited in front of our assigned door. I also asked him for his impression.

"They work okay," he said, "when everybody does what they're supposed to."

When everybody does what they're supposed to. When nobody hops on an elevator they didn't request, or gets off at a floor they didn't name as their destination. When nobody demonstrates an iota of free will, but instead docilely shuffles in and out of his or her preassigned cattle car.

There's no other way to put it: these elevators piss me off. I mean, I realize that whether I punch a destination into a console in the lobby or once ensconced in the car itself, it is I who pushes the button and who determines his end point. And 99 times out of 100, I am not going to veer from the course charted, by me, at the beginning of my ride: If I type 10th floor, I (usually) want to go to the 10th floor. But that little loss of liberty, illusory or otherwise (hey, what if I suddenly and randomly decide that I want to get off at the 7th floor as I'm halfway to 10?) is an irritable bridge too far. Am I never going to ride those elevators again? Hardly. But they piss me off, just the same. Am I going to do anything about it?

No. That's the honest truth. As William F. Buckley pointed out in his magnum opus "Why Don't We Complain?"

we are all increasingly anxious in America to be unobtrusive, we are reluctant to make our voices heard, hesitant about claiming our right; we are afraid that our cause is unjust, or that if it is not unjust, that it is ambiguous; or if not even that, that it is too trivial to justify the horrors of a confrontation with Authority; we will sit in an oven or endure a racking headache before undertaking a head-on, I'm-here-to-tell-you complaint. That tendency to passive compliance, to a heedless endurance, is something to keep one's eyes on -- in sharp focus.

I think the observable reluctance of the majority of Americans to assert themselves in minor matters is related to our increased sense of helplessness in an age of technology and centralized political and economic power. For generations, Americans who were too hot, or too cold, got up and did something about it. Now we call the plumber, or the electrician, or the furnace man. The habit of looking after our own needs obviously had something to do with the assertiveness that characterized the American family familiar to readers of American literature. With the technification of life goes our direct responsibility for our material environment, and we are conditioned to adopt a position of helplessness not only as regards the broken air conditioner, but as regards the over-heated train. It takes an expert to fix the former, but not the latter; yet these distinctions, as we withdraw into helplessness, tend to fade away.

And I, I'm afraid to say, am very much a creature of the times. I will not shake my tiny fist at the building management/politburo that inflicted this insulting, demeaning elevator system upon the tenants--who keep the management/politburo in BUSINESS, for crying out loud-- and visitors of the building. Irrespective of whether bitching about it would lead to any change or not. Americans don't bitch for the sake of bitching anymore, at least not those of us who are too busy working and getting on with our lives to take the time. (People denied their Popeye's Chicken are another matter).

And this trend is disturbing to say the least. We're used to getting screwed, and we just don't get that bothered about it anymore. For example: A friend of mine told me that a surefire way to kill Obama's "public option" health care bill would be to draw attention to the fact that the politicians won't have to take this plan for themselves. My response: Are you kidding? We know they're going to carve a sweeter deal for themselves. We know there are two sets of rules. That doesn't even phase us anymore.

I am heartened, however, that we as a people are demonstrating that there is a length to wish you can no longer push us without us swinging back. People are not sitting still and allowing the liberals in Washington to take our health care away. We murmured at the bank bailouts. We snapped a bit at porkulus. We started to shout after Cap and Tax and now that they've come for our health care, we are shaking the rafters with our voices. It took a while to wake us up, but we appear to be awake. For now.

Compared to that, an annoying elevator system is obviously small potatoes. But it's not minuscule potatoes, if we're going to allow 10,000 microscopic little encroachments to back us, over time, into an ever shrinking corral. I would rather be a nation that sends back our steak if it's overcooked rather than one that gradually relinquishes its freedom for the sake of politeness. Come to think of it, I think I will bitch about those elevators.

Profile in Cowardice

Over the past two weeks, I've been calling my Congresswoman, Melissa Bean's office to inquire as to when she will be holding a town hall. I've pretty much called every day since the recess began.

An enterprising teenager could make a really boss drinking game out of the responses I've received.

"uh..." 1 shot

"we're still working on her schedule..." 2 shots

"let me take down your information..." 3 shots

"we'll be sure to get back to you..." 4 shots and a jäger bomb.

So, I just learned that Rep Bean will be holding a "tele-townhall" tomorrow night. Needless to say, I did not come by this information as a result of someone "getting back to me," but because once again, I called them.

Really, Melissa? A conference call? Even after the President has announced his majestic back pedal on the "public option?" You're still too afraid to meet with us face to face?

Supposedly, I'm going to receive a call tomorrow night around 8:30pm CST that will connect me with the meeting. We'll see if they call. The staffer on the phone got a little testy with me when I brought up that $25 per plate "townhall" that Michelle Malkin reported a few days ago. I may have earned myself a spot on the "accidentally forget to call" list.

If they do call, I will live tweet.

Not Constructive

(image from www.thepeoplescube.com)

I guess you can put "Illinois Voters" between "Big Oil" and "US Troops" in the ranking of Senator Durbin's esteem.

Ya know, Dennis Leary wrote a song that I think would be entirely appropriate for Senator Durbin to sing to himself. This is a family friendly blog so I won't name the song in its entirety. I will simply note that the first two words are "I'm an." Google it.

Watch this. NOW.

If you're a liberal, your head may explode as a result of taking in this much common sense in six minutes and 39 seconds.

My Personal Stake In Defeating Obamacare

Hey, 'member this?



But don't worry, old, disabled or infirm citizen. If there is any doubt as to the value the President places on your life, rest assured. The President is as concerned about your well being as that of his own grandmother.

Actually, it appears that the more that Grandpa and Grandma learn about Obama's health care bill, the more pressure they're placing on the AARP to retract their support for the bill.

Maybe Nana and Bopa read this round up, prepared by Michelle Malkin, of the real-life consequences of socialized medicine in Great Britain.

I normally don't divulge many personal details on this blog. But as I reflect on how the President's proposed health care plan would absolutely devastate American medicine, thereby bringing significant harm to my family, I feel compelled to share a few tidbits about the medical saga my wife and I have lived with regard to one of our children. So, loyal readers (both of you), finish your juice and cookies and join me on the storytime mat, so that I may present to you a few snippets of Geoffy's World.

My oldest child was diagnosed with Pervasive Development Dysfunction when he was four years old. (PDD is another term for "high-functioning autism.") Prior to his diagnosis, there weren't any profound red flags that suggested a serious medical condition to my wife or me. Looking back, of course, there were perhaps things that might have tipped us off, had we known what to look for: My son had been colicky baby and screamed blue murder for the first six months; he was a toe walker, and had been prescribed both orthotic foot braces and, at one point, had his feet cast; he was hyper and seemed a bit strong willed. But he was emotionally engaged, responsive (enough), seemed to play more or less normal (maybe kept to himself a bit more than the average kid), etc. His first pediatrician didn't really express any concerns--he did order an ultrasound of my son's rather large six-month-old head, but the results yielded no evidence for alarm. My son's first three birthdays came and went, and so far as my wife and I knew, we had a healthy, "normal" kid.

When my son was three, we moved a sufficient enough distance to necessitate finding a new pediatrician. Though he didn't push too hard at first, the new doctor did voice some concerns about my son's social skills. Sometime around my son's fourth birthday, a well meaning friend (for whom I thank God) had the courage to recommend a book to my wife about something called "Sensory Integration Disorder." Portions of the book came painfully close to describing some of my son's attributes. At that point we took our son to a neurologist, who formally diagnosed our son as PDD. After consultation with our son's pediatrician, we arranged to get our son private occupational, speech and physical therapy. When he was enrolled in pre-school, he was placed in a class for special needs kids upon recommendation of his IEP (Individualized Education Program) committee.

If there is any one thing about autism that is most maddening, it is the lack of knowledge as to its cause and even greater lack of knowledge about how to effectively treat it. Parents of autistic kids, abhorring this vacuum of information, are especially prone to pouncing on any hint of a successful treatment, be it in the form of an internet testimonial, a second hand miracle story overheard at the play group, or some "alternative therapy" flyer posted on the corkboard at the local hippie free love vitamin-and-organic-wiccan-energy-drink store. We tried our son on the gluten-free diet, the casein-free diet, we gave our kids soy and rice milk, removed corn from the diet, etc. We refused to give our kids vaccinations with mercury, despite the pediatrician's gentle protestations that the amount of the stuff involved was less than the mercury content of your average can of tuna. You name it, we tried it. To no avail.

At some point along the way, some friends with an autistic child told us about a nearby clinic that specialized in treating autistic kids. This place was literally one of a kind, and, counting ourselves lucky to live within driving distance, we got our kid an appointment as quickly as possible. After our first meeting with one of the clinic's physicians, I drove home with something like a sense of hope (a novel sensation indeed to that point). Here finally was a specialized clinic with a wide enough patient population, extending back a sufficient period of time, to allow them to conduct meaningful outcomes research which might provide some clues as to the causes and possible treatments of autism. Some of their patients had shown significant improvement. The doctor was very careful to remain sober about my son's condition and to avoid building up expectations or giving false hope. Nevertheless, I remained optimistic. Their treatment plan basically involved running a barrage of tests on my son (blood, hair, urine, feces) to pinpoint chemical imbalances and excessive toxins and metals in his system, and then prescribing a series of vitamins, nutrients, amino acids, etc, that would hopefully restore some of his neurological and physiological imbalances over time. Our son's pediatrician was cold on the idea to say the least. Long story short, two years of very expensive treatment that was only partially covered by my insurance yielded exactly nothing.

My son was about seven years old at this point. He had been receiving OT and Speech therapy on and off throughout this entire period, both privately and through the public school system. In regard to the latter venue: when my son was six, we pulled him out of public school, having decided that all of our kids would be home schooled by my wife. Our son did for a time continue to receive treatment through the public school, which is a service they are required by law to offer even to private or home educated kids. Though at one point some young and naive administratress did attempt to tell my wife that the district was not legally obligated to provide services due to "separation of church and state." I didn't realize that home schooling was an organized religion. Live and learn. Eventually we came to realize that trying to coordinate with the district proved more trouble than it was worth and contented ourselves with the private therapy he was receiving.

Around the time my son turned seven, our son's pediatrician recommended taking him to be evaluated by a team of experts at the Children's Hospital in Milwaukee. They ran him through a number of different tests and assessments, and again, to make a long story slightly less long, their team of specialists (ranging from pediatric psychologists and neurologists to auditory specialists) offered a most unexpected diagnosis.

Your son is not autistic, they said, but has a language learning disability and RAGING ADHD. Again, the clouds parted as I turned in this revelation over in my mind. ADHD: That's treatable. Learning disability: Also treatable. Autism: Marginally treatable to untreatable. It's hard to put into words the (perhaps undue) relief I felt in that moment, as one arbitrary label was ripped from my son and another slapped on, as if with velcro. So after trying the myriad failed or inconclusive treatment strategies on which we had spent the last few years, not to mention considerable dollars, it was time to move on to that tried-and-true mainstay of the medical profession: drugs! Sh'haaaaah, bro! druuuuuugs.

Over the course of our grand little odyssey into controlled substances, the pediatrician prescribed three different ADHD meds for our son. Two were stimulant based, one non. Apart from one pill that had our son up all night blabbing like a speed freak at a Beat revival, there was little discernable change and certainly no benefit derived from any of the meds. So, one more miracle cure relegated to the dustbin of history.

Which pretty much catches us up to the present, and brings me to my wife's sciatica.

My wife, a petite little thing all of 5' 1", has not only delivered three kids but has had each of them in turn affixed to her hip for the last nine years. Lugging kids around for that long wreaks hell on your back and by the time the youngest grew to unluggable size, my wife was having severe back and leg pain. After other treatments failed to alleviate her pain, I suggested that she see a chiropractor (I had a very positive outcome through chiropractic treatment as a teenager). Before long, the DC treating her cajoled me into having myself and the kids x-rayed as well.

When I saw the x-ray results of my oldest, I nearly fell over. His spine, which was shot from the front, looked as if it was a side profile. His spine is so crooked it looks like a backwards "s." I couldn't believe it. How did this go unnoticed for possibly all of my son's nine years of life? My son basically has scoliosis and none of the manifold physicians or therapists who have poked, prodded or examined him six ways from a flipping months of sundays over the course of his life managed to catch it. Could at least some of his neurological dysfunction be attributed a compromised central nervous system with multiple nerve impingements as a result of his mangled spine? Who knows. But at the very least, a condition that absolutely can't go untreated, and that I possibly would not have known about for years, was uncovered. I told the DC to get my son on the table for and adjustment immediately. Time will tell if this treatment resolves the situation without my son requiring surgery. It also remains to be seen if a corrected spine will lead to any additional neurological regulation. After everything we've tried for my son, I've learned not to get my hopes up too much. However, short of seeing a witch doctor, if there is anything out there that holds even the slightest chance of bringing my son even a nanoparticle of additional functionality, you had better believe that I will try it.

Now, at last, to the point (yes, there really is one): My son has received a vast array of medical treatment over the course of his life. Some of this treatment has been conventional, some not. Some of it has been beneficial, some not. It has been a long, expensive process of trial and error (some of it necessary, some not) that simply would not have been possible in a socialist health care system. I praise and thank God for the private, employer-provided insurance that has funded the majority of the medical and therapeutic care my son has received. I also praise and thank God for certain members of our extended family who have generously helped us financially so that my son could get some treatment options that my insurance would not cover. It has been a tremendous blessing to see my son receive perhaps better and more diverse treatment than the majority of the populace.

And as my son, my other kids and my wife and I continue to age, I want the quality and availability of care we have thus far experienced to continue. I do not want a single payer government option. I do not want rationed care. I do not want the dumbing down of the medical profession as talented and bright young men and women chose more lucrative careers over a medical degree. I do not want some zit-popping, gum snapping, braindead government employee, who only got their job because their uncle gave money to some democrat's political campaign, deciding whether or not to authorize my son's treatment. I do not want to have to sell my house to raise the cash I will need in order to circumvent single payer and get a loved one the care they need (but I will, if that's what it comes down to).

A well-meaning liberal friend once asked me "Geoff, your son has all these special needs, so don't you think it's only fair that the people who have means contribute a little more in taxes so that people like your son can get the care they need?"

Leaving aside the fact that, no, I don't think the government ought to be seizing the wealth of my neighbors to take care of my kids (yes, family helped us, and yes, it enabled us to try some "alternative" therapies; But had we not these resources at our disposal, we would have made do with the treatment options that were insurance-covered, or scraped together the cash some other way), my liberal friend's question misses the point: My son would have WORSE care under Obama's plan than what he's had to date. The so-called "47 million uninsured" will have WORSE care under Obama's plan than the free care available to them now. EVERYBODY will have WORSE care than what they are getting now. Health care will be rationed. Private insurance, both unable to compete with government reimbursement rates--but nonetheless expected to subsidize the loss to medical groups that will result from those rates--will go out of business. Businesses, reeling from the "surcharge" tax that will hit almost of them, will dump their employees into Obamacare en masse. And Obamacare, dependent upon ever-dwindling tax revenues that will stem from ever-increasing tax rates levied against an ever-shrinking private sector, will invariably institute ever-increased rationing of care and cutting of services.

And once this abomination called "government option" health care is enacted into law and rapidly disintegrates into a cash-starved beast, what services do you suppose will be the first for the chopping block?

Well, if President Obama has to question whether his own grandmother's hip replacement is indicative of a "sustainable model" for health care, what the hell chance does your grandmother have for a hip replacement? Or, as implied in the video above, a pacemaker?

And since President Obama is an enthusiastic supporter of abortions of all varieties whose own website states that he wants prenatal screening for "all pregnant women"--presumably so that babies with detectable diseases or disorders such as Down's Syndrome can be diagnosed and "taken care of"--how enthusiastic is the President's administration (or whatever bureaucracy it spawns) going to be about caring for your special needs child, whom you obviously should have just aborted when you had the chance?

For Barack's sake, people--you can't provide compassionate care for everyone without denying a few people coverage! Now if everyone who is mentally retarded, deformed, autistic, paraplegic, or over the age of 55 will do their patriotic duty and swallow their government-issued cyanide capsule, we can get on with the business of making life better for all Americans. And yes, we do have "end-of-life consultants" standing by ready to help anyone that can't open the packet or swallow on their own.

The Waterboy

In his column today, Sun Times Columnist and Obama Waterboy Neil Steinberg had this to say in response to the doubtless massive email respose to his monday column (for my own response, click here).

After I wrote about health care Monday was one of the rare times I stopped reading my e-mail -- too much, too mean-spirited and, ultimately, too dull. But one thing that is clear is that the reactionary right is afraid -- terrified of change, terrified of their own government, desperate that the nation not do anything it isn't already doing. It's a sad, sad way to live your life, and needless to say, deeply un-American. We are not a nation of self-hating cowards, at least not generally.

Wow. Now in addition to Nazi sympathizers, we're self-hating cowards as well. Again, way to go with that ad hominem, Neal. If you keep this up, you may manage to go your entire career without ever having to back up any of your infantile leftist drivel.

Response to Neil Steinberg

To: nsteinberg@suntimes.com

Mr. Steinberg, I must respectfully object to the Opening Shot of today's column. It is you, Sir, who are "dead wrong."

You refer to those who oppose Obama's ideology and initiatives as "the enemy within," who are motivated by "purely ideological, if not pathological reasons." The fact of the matter, Mr. Steinberg, is that the citizens who have been turning up at town halls in droves are motivated of late primarily by a desire not to have a government run health care system foisted upon us. We respectfully called our representatives before the stimulus vote, to voice our opposition. We were ignored. We respectfully called again as the vote on Cap & Trade was drawing near. We were concerned about a bill that would lead to tax hikes and substantially higher prices on everything from electricity to pork chops. We were rebuffed. Then came health care reform. We weren't about to wait around for that infliction.

Depending on which surveys you check, fully 77-80+% of the population are more or less happy with their healthcare the way it is--at least to enough of a degree not to wish it transformed into a Canada-style "single payer" system. And yet the President has stubbornly charged full steam ahead, his administration going so far as to hire "supporters" on Craigslist to turn out at town halls to plug his health care plan. And yet it is the opponents of this health care bill who are "astroturfing," sayeth Speaker Pelosi, who today in an article jointly written by Rep. Steny Hoyer referred to all who are opposed to Obamacare as "un-American." Last week, Speaker Pelosi went so far as to liken us to Nazis. At least you only went so far in your column as to liken us to Nazi sympathizers.

All we want, Mr. Steinberg, is for our elected officials to hear us, and then act in accordance with our wishes. That's kind of what elected representatives are supposed to do. Or so I once erroneously thought. Thank you for helping me understand that our elected leaders should not be held accountable, should not have to answer to us, and should instead (in their immaculate wisdom) merely act in what they see as our best interest. Yes. Thank you for showing me the light. "Representative Republic"... why, that's Nazi speak.

Lastly, you suggest that we oppose President Obama's agenda simply for the sake of opposing President Obama. Not so. If President Obama announced across-the-board tax cuts tomorrow, we would laud him. If President Obama took a hardline stance with brutish thugs like Ahmadinijad and Chavez, and extended the hand of friendship to Israel (as opposed to what he has done, which is the exact opposite), we would commend him. If President Obama announced that government run mortgage, auto, and (I fear, soon) healthcare industries are bad idea, and announced that he was immediately reversing his policy, we would sing his praises in the street. Short of these pipe dreams, we would settle for the President and members of Congress abandoning their ambitions for government-run health care, in recognition of the fact that the vast majority of the populace does not want it.

Because you see, Mr. Steinberg, it's President Obama's ideas we oppose. Not President Obama. It's nothing personal. Of course, you know this, and hopefully someday, you'll bring yourself to admit it in print, and not immediately rush to baseless ad hominem. Of course, when you're under deadline, ad hominem is easier than reflective thought.

Steinberg's column.

More Thuggery

Missed this before. Via .

Paid Obama hacks. This is what speaking out may get you.

Apparently being a community organizer is not without its perks.

Obama's Paid Hacks.

Now, if only the GOP were organized enough to think of things like this. Criminy.

Twice as Hard

"Punch back twice as hard," sayeth Papabama's peeps. Punch back? Surely you mean with arguments, to counter the arguments raised by the loyal opposition, Deputy Chief of Staff Messina?

After all, according to the Politico article linked above, you played a video exhorting the senators at your little pep rally to "do more prep work than usual for their public meetings." Sounds reasonable, right? You'd want the Senators to bone up on the legislation and have the facts at their disposal so they could present a reasonable defense of President Obama's vision for nationalized health care.

But wait, that's not exactly what you meant by "prep work," is it? Because the sentence in the article actually reads:

They showed video clips of the confrontational town halls that have dominated the media coverage, and told senators to do more prep work than usual for their public meetings by making sure their own supporters turn out [emph. mine], senators and aides said.

Hit back twice as hard...and make sure you've got plenty of your own people there. That doesn't sound at all provocative, does it?

But don't worry, average joe conservative, as you head out the door to the town hall in order to participate in this grand experiment called democracy. I'm sure our democratic friends are just as interested in a civil and cool-headed exchange of ideas as we are. I'm sure the Deputy Chief of Staff wasn't at all implying that there is any place for intimidation or the threat of violence at these events when he used language like "punch back twice as hard," and stressed the need for democrats to have their people there.

After all, the republicans are the mob, remember? They are the crazies. They are the ones who get out of hand. And those high-minded democrats, brimming over with self confidence and good will, surely realize that reason and common sense are the best weapons. There will be none of these heavy-fisted, GOP-style tactics among the democrats, who, armed with logic and facts, are liberated to simply allow their ideas to speak for them.

Therefore, this incident in St. Louis, where a black conservative was called racial slurs and beaten by an angry mob, simply did not happen.

Neither this obviously faked video from Rep. Kathy Castor's town hall meeting in Tampa, in which it appears to the untrained eye that some of Castor's goons are roughing up her critics. (Is there no low to which these shameless and deceitful republicans will not stoop?)

Because no reasonable person could construe that these two fictitious events in any way embody the spirit of the message sent by the Obama administration that democrat politicians should have "their supporters" on hand should the need for "punching back twice as hard" emerge.

You don't need to see his identification. These aren't the droids you're looking for. Move along.