Houston Views

European Adventure - London Town

2007-03-08T21:22:00.000-06:00

After our decision to leave France behind, we woke up refreshed, and still determined to depart France faster than Mexican laborers depart a construction site when a truck from Immigration and Customs Enforcement shows up. We made our way to the Paris train station, and went through the now familiar typing, writing and stamping procedure as described earlier, until we were anointed to leave the country.

I realize that many if not most of my readers have never had the pleasure of visiting a European train station. Let me try to describe it for you. First, imagine any lower-class truck stop you’ve ever seen. Make sure that the truck stop you are imagining sells pornographic videos, and has a few ladies of indeterminate age, some missing teeth, and a tendency to place their hands on the arms of similarly dentated overweight truckers while asking if they are lonely and want company.

Insure in your imagination that you add a lot of diesel engine exhaust fumes and the resulting greasy film that coats everything the fumes contact. Add a public address system that always rings a bell before a string of incomprehensible syllables issue forth. The language itself is not always recognizable, even in England, due to the distortion. Think of it as a Jack in the Box drive-through order speaker, but with loud speakers increasing both the volume and the distortion.

Add a constant rumble, hum, and buzz from the crowds and arriving or departing trains, as well as a few news stands as you would expect to see in a New York subway station. Further add a few stairways going up or down to the platforms that access the tracks, and arrival/departure boards such as you would see at a relatively large airport in the 1970’s (the mechanical, flipping letter type that reminds one of an episode of “Wheel of Fortune” playing in permanent fast-forward, without a pretty girl there to distract you from its lack of content or entertainment).

That is what a European train station looks like.

We went to our platform, to catch our train and make our way to the English Channel. The Channel Tunnel, or “Chunnel,” between England and France had not yet been built, so we were going to ride a ferry across the channel. This ended up being much like any other European train ride. The accommodations inside the train cars themselves are fairly clean and comfortable, especially after one has been exposed to the train stations themselves.

We made it to the Ferry terminal on the coast of France, and I got to ride on a hovercraft for the first time in my life. The accommodations inside this state-of-the-art, water-borne conveyance were first rate, but we had to pay a few dollars as a premium, since our Interrail passes didn’t allow for this conveyance by themselves.

Mark and I found ourselves in a cabin with two sisters. We immediately ascertained that they spoke English. In fact, their father was English, and their mother was French, so they were truly bilingual. They were 16 years old and traveling back to England to visit their father. They were twins, you see, and cute.

Now, let me repaint the scenario in more direct terms: There were two 18 year old American guys, on their own, trapped for a few hours in a small cabin sitting across from two cute twins. Yes, this was the kind of European travel we had fantasized about. Unfortunately, fantasy was all we ended up having, although we continued to engage the girls in conversation, displaying our wittiness and verbal prowess at every opportunity in our quest to impress the friendly girls enough to get them to become friendlier, if you catch my meaning.

They did offer one sage piece of advice that I pass on to you, now, having found for myself that they were 100% correct. English cooking is even worse than its reputation. If you don’t eat bacon & eggs, or fish & chips, you are going to starve in England. “Bacon” is more what we would call “Canadian Bacon,” rather than the little brown and fatty strips that are fried to a crisp, like we have in the US, but it beats the heck out of spotted dick, bubble & squeak, or any of their other dishes. At least they make the names as unappetizing as the food itself, so you are forewarned.

We made it to the English shores, having crossed the English Channel at night. I can’t tell you if the Cliffs of Dover are white, as conventional wisdom says, but I can say that they aren’t luminous, as I couldn’t see them, and have no idea when we passed them, if we passed them at all. My attention was concentrated on cute girls, and therefore my brain was not absorbing details that I might have otherwise noted.

Early the next morning, we arrived in England, and found our way from the hovercraft to the train station, which, not so coincidentally was the hovercraft terminal itself. I don’t even remember transferring, so we may have stayed on board the train, but we were girlless in the cabin after crossing the Channel, so there must have been an opportunity to leave the train, or, at the least, they had a chance to leave our cabin.

We continued on the train to London, and found, yet again, another cheap hotel with hallway-accessible sanitary facilities. Soon after we were settled in to our room, we made our way out into town and did the traditional tourist things like visiting the Tower Bridge and the London Tower, as well as Trafalgar square. One thing I have that is now a collector’s item is a picture of the statue of Admiral Nelson with a Concorde SST passing in the sky behind it. It was one of the few decent pictures I got.

We also visited Big Ben. Big Ben is actually the bell inside the tower, but we Americans don’t care, and call the tower itself Big Ben, anyway. There was a large park-like field across from Big Ben, where we rested for a bit before deciding what to do next. While there, I grabbed a few more photos. I am not sure what happened, because the day was a dull gray color such as one normally associates with foggy London, but one of the photographs I took had a brilliant blue sky, and the tower looked gilded and golden. In person, though, I never noticed this. This and the previously mentioned up-the-side Eiffel Tower picture, and the Admiral Nelson/SST photos were the three that came out the best of the several rolls I shot.

After the normal tourist visits, we went to a British Pub. I don’t remember the name of it. We drank warm beer, or ale, or stout. To this day, I have no idea why any of those names apply to what is pretty much the same liquid, in my eyes. Warm, though, I do know about. The beer was warm. Apparently the English DNA has mutated to the point that there are no longer taste buds in the English mouth. Nothing is more vile than warm beer, with the exception of English food. I also noticed something else while in the pub; English women come in two varieties: disgustingly ugly and ravishingly beautiful. There is no middle ground where English beauty, or lack thereof, is concerned.

Back in the hotel, I struck up a conversation with the male receptionist. He was, like the predatory American-French translator, in his mid-twenties. He had the intermediate length hair that in the 1970’s denoted him as a guy who wanted to grow long hair to impress the girls, but had to get a real job to eat without any real skills, hence, his place as a scruffy hotel receptionist. It is up to the reader to determine if “scruffy” applies to the hotel, the receptionist, or both.

I asked Mr. Scruffy if there was anything interesting to do in town that weekend. I’m not sure what day of the week it was, but the weekend was upcoming. He grabbed the local “weekend entertainment” variety of newspaper and skimmed it rapidly. Almost immediately, he announced that the Sex Pistols were in town. I have never been a fan of Punk Rock, and the Sex Pistols were synonymous with the genre, but this was an opportunity not to be missed. I asked him where one could get tickets to the concert, and he grabbed a handset. Within a few minutes, I had arranged for a ticket and transportation to the ticket-buying location. I was on a tight budget, but this was one expense that was going to be allowed to bite into the remaining funds.

Well, the concert venue was not the glass-fronted megaliths that present today’s concerts. It was more like a big concrete building designed to hold as many people as can be crammed into the space. I don’t remember where my seat was, but that was academic, as almost no one was sitting down. Reflecting back on the moment, I don’t even remember if there were seats. I learned a few things at the concert: bright flashing lights don’t really add to the entertainment if you aren’t zonked out of your skull, “louder” is not synonymous with “better,” and punk rock was worse than it was cracked up to be, even though I would not have considered that possible before attending the concert.

I hate to say it, but I left before anyone in the crowd got urinated or spat upon. I don’t think I stayed through 10 songs. This is not to say I was disappointed. It was everything I expected, and less. Punk Rock was definitely a style of music that was invented just to prove to our parents that heavy metal wasn’t so bad after all. Later, Rap Music took up this role, in regards to Disco.

Upon leaving the concert, I wandered in the general direction of the hotel. London is a very big city, with a lot to do. What I did was to make my way to a rather crowded up beat British Pub, once again, and ordered a beer. It was cold, as well, to my surprise. Once again, I learned something. “Up beat” and “up scale” both mean “costs more than you think for a beer.” I paid for my one beer, which was all I was ever going to have at that pub, and sat drinking in the atmosphere as well as the over priced refreshment. There were mostly post-college preppies in there. This is the breed that was later labeled “yuppie,” the post-baccalaureate preppie. I didn’t like them after college any more than I liked them pre-college or during college. There is just something about their fraudulent plasticity, false laughter, and constant one-upmanship that rubs me the wrong way. Maybe I’m just strange.

Anyway, it was obvious that an 18 year old American in jeans and a t-shirt was not going to be able to impress one of the “birds” in the pub, especially given the one-beer-only handicap I had already imposed on myself. I left shortly after arriving.

Now, it may seem that I’m painting a picture of how much I hated London, but this is not the case in the least. I enjoyed almost every minute that I was there, including loud concerts and preppie/yuppie pubs. It was just that I was a fish out of water in London. London is for people with money, people trying to get money from the people with money, and people who are never going to have money but are going to be treated as if they are invisible by the other two groups. I fit into none of these groups, so was more of an observer during my time in England than a participant.

We spent several days in London, and continued to do any tourist things we could do, the type where you didn’t have to pay money to do it being preferred. I got to see some punk rockers walking in one of the many London parks. They had the fluorescent panty hose, spiky hair, and generally “look at me, I’m strange” attire that had come to be associated with punk rockers and other people in society who are training themselves for failure and ostracization that they are certain to achieve for themselves. Goths, potheads, and others who intentionally handicap themselves with numerous piercings and tattoos that cannot be covered without gloves and turtleneck sweaters fall into this category as well.

The four of us continued doing tourist stuff, until we felt we should leave England, having gotten our additional value out of the slightly higher priced Interrail passes, as compared to the non-British Isles Eurail passes. We went to the train station, which was like almost any other European train station, and did our typing-stamping-writing best to avoid paying for a ticket. We ended up crossing back to the mainland in a more conventional ferry, and ended up in Belgium.

I had never even heard of Belgium as anything other than a small European country. Since this trip, though, I have found that Belgium is a great country. It looks like it is in the corner of Europe, but in reality is in the heart of Europe. Had I to do this trip over again, I would have spent more time in Belgium. I will relate more about Belgium in future posts, but at the time of this trip, we just continued through the country into Holland, which is really called “The Netherlands,” but nobody but the Dutch call it that. Note, also that “Dutch” has nothing to do with either “Holland” or “Netherlands,” which shows just how strange this country is.

Continued in “The Lowlands.”

I shoulda known

2007-03-06T10:46:00.000-06:00

Well, I am on my trip back to the US, now, and I want you folks to know that I'm going to have buy a new bag to carry all the crap... I mean "all the great stuff I bought" over here for yall.

It seems that $20 t-shirts cost a lot more when you add in the excess baggage costs.

New Blog In Town

2007-03-04T14:14:00.000-06:00

Yep.. FauxNEWS is up and running, but still in the testing phases. It should be ready for everyone soon.

Not Quite the Best Buy

2007-03-03T09:14:00.000-06:00

How would you like it if you went on the internet and found a really good buy, only to find when you went to the store that the price on the website was more than you thought? Maybe you should check for yourself when you get home again, if it happens.

Best Buy admits to having a fake website with higher prices, but only accessible to its employees.

State Attorney General Richard Blumenthal ordered the investigation into Best Buy's practices on Feb. 9 after my column disclosed the website and showed how employees at two Connecticut stores used it to deny customers a $150 discount on a computer advertised on BestBuy.com.

Blumenthal said Wednesday that Best Buy has also confirmed to his office the existence of the intranet site, but has so far failed to give clear answers about its purpose and use.

"Their responses seem to raise as many questions as they answer," Blumenthal said in an interview. "Their answers are less than crystal clear."

I don't like buying appliances at Best Buy because they don't deliver what they promise, plain and simple, but I never thought they'd stoop to false advertising.

Caveat Emptor... But from a national company like Best Buy? Who would've thunk it?

And the Winner Is....

2007-03-03T03:40:00.003-06:00

Congratulations to Emmekelley for her come-from-behind win to take the Saudi Harley Davidson T-Shirt Contest in Wino's Second Periodic Giveaway!

I'm not certain if I'm going to allow clown threats in the next go-round. It just isn't right for folks to do evil, dastardly stuff like that.

Smacktle will receive a consolation "Excellent Blog Pimping Award" T-shirt from the Bahrain Hard Rock Cafe.

Next Giveaway will be for a big prize. Only folks who have already posted will be eligible, so let your friends know to get over here to be in the running. Rules will be announced when I think of them.

The Second Periodic Giveaway - Updated Again

2007-03-03T03:34:00.000-06:00

I'm keeping this post on top until it closes. Look below for new posts.

There are no anonymous votes allowed. If you're signing in as anonymous, please send an email to file(underscore)temp(at)hotmail.com I will receive your email, and make a note in the comments that your vote has been approved. As of this writing, I have received no email confirmations for anonymous votes.

The reason I do these giveaways is so that you tell all your friends at work and around your neighborhoods, schools, and churches to come here and vote for you to get the free shirt. Then they vote for you, and a few of them read my blog. Once they read it, they can't help but notice my brilliance, phenomenal insight, and abject humility. Once that happens, they're hooked.

Now, to sweeten the pot, I'm going to declare bigjolly the de-facto winner as of post number 34. I am now opening up this voting for someone who wins to pick out the size and color they want, and I'll also mail or hand-deliver free of charge (hand-delivery is at a pig race or bhh or shake fest or similar in the Greater Houston Area), depending on the person's preference. In addition, it needn't be a Saudi Arabia Harley shirt. I can also get Bahraini Hard Rock Cafe shirts this trip. Voting will close in time for me to grab the gift before I leave here on the 6th of March.

To further sweeten the pot, I am going to use "previous comment posters" as the nominations for the "next giveaway," when I do it. (Yes, it's a bribe). I am going to post names of everyone who has commented up until the time of the next giveaway, and only those folks will be eligible for the prize. Read the comments to this post to see if you can catch what I'm thinking about for the "next prize." I think it'll be worth it, to most folks. This is even more incentive for you to get friends and loved ones to post here. (The next giveaway prize will be what is more-than-hinted in the comments if it is legal. I'm going to read the rules and see if I'm permitted to give it away as I've planned to do. I think it is legal, as of this writing.)

So, voting is re-opened to everyone. Any previous winners are still out of the running for this shirt. I try to be fair in my giveaways.

I'm in Saudi Arabia. I found the Harley Shop. I got three T-shirts, each with Saudi Emblems. One is XXXL, two are XXL. All the designs are different. All are black in color. One of them is already going to Neo. She gets first choice on size.

Of course, they are all official HD merchandise. I don't do counterfeits.

I don't know what I'm going to do with one of them. The other one is being given away to someone who gets the most votes here. Katfish is out of the running, since he already got one. Neo is out of the running, since she's already getting one. Anyone else I already gave free toys to (cigars are NOT toys) is out of the running, too.

You can only vote once.... You can vote for anyone at all.

Put some legal stuff here, so I can't be sued for this.

Vote's open!

Even More To It

2007-02-27T02:21:00.000-06:00

This kid probably killed his mother and brother, and probably tried to kill his father as well. But the Chronicle Story doesn't tell everything that is involved.

Let me tell you something that isn't reported in the papers, and something I've seen nowhere else.

Bart's girlfriend was my daughter's roommate at Sam Houston State University around the time of these slayings. She was a very sweet, beautiful girl who had just a week or two earlier donated her very, very long strawberry blonde hair to the Locks of Love nonprofit organization, for no other reason than she wanted to help those who are disadvantaged. Her hair was down to her waist, and afterwards, it wasn't much more than just a shag.

Anyway, her truck was mysteriously run off highway 45 and rolled over, killing her instantly about two or three weeks before this occurred. I think Bart was involved in this, too.

This kid is plain evil. His father doesn't want him to get the death penalty, but I hope he does. Evil like this shouldn't be allowed to exist.

Reap What Ye Sow

2007-02-26T02:18:00.000-06:00

Today, the Washington Times has an article decrying the dearth of chaplains in the military.

The Army Reserve and the Army National Guard have about 440 openings, while the Army has 80 vacancies. Col. Dolinger said it is more difficult to recruit chaplains into the reserves than into active duty.

If you wonder why this may be so, perhaps you can read about what happened to one military chaplain, recently.

"When I said a prayer in front of the White House, it was a bona fide religious observance," he said. "If this is my crime, then I am guilty of praying in Jesus' name."

Yep. This Christian Minister had the audacity to say "Jesus" when he prayed publicly.

Maybe this will help them figure out why a few others have declined to join. Perhaps they prefer to pray to their God without restrictions.

Convenient Lies

2007-02-25T04:12:00.000-06:00

The article starts with the following two paragraphs:

This Sunday, Al Gore will probably win an Academy Award for his global-warming documentary An Inconvenient Truth, a riveting work of science fiction.

The main point of the movie is that, unless we do something very serious, very soon about carbon dioxide emissions, much of Greenland’s 630,000 cubic miles of ice is going to fall into the ocean, raising sea levels over twenty feet by the year 2100.

From there, it goes on to say what I've been saying for years: EnvirusMentaless people don't care about facts. They want to control your life, and are using this lie to prevent you from driving a big car, or to make your air conditioning more expensive and more prone to failure. It is one big scam.

The last paragraphs is also telling:

When it comes to global warming, apparently the truth is inconvenient. And it’s not just Gore’s movie that’s fiction. It’s the rhetoric of the Congress and the chief executive, too.

This is not news to me. Whenever you hear them say, "Most scientists agree that global warming is happening," shoot back with, "Most biologists and psychologists might say so, but most climatologists say that the data doesn't support it."

Nowhere in the traditionally refereed scientific literature do we find any support for Gore’s hypothesis. Instead, there’s an unrefereed editorial by NASA climate firebrand James E. Hansen, in the journal Climate Change — edited by Steven Schneider, of Stanford University, who said in 1989 that scientists had to choose “the right balance between being effective and honest” about global warming — and a paper in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences that was only reviewed by one person, chosen by the author, again Dr. Hansen.

Yep. Can't have scientists with other agendas actually telling the truth, can we? This shows that "global warming" is nothing more than a false construct to restrict your choices in air conditioning, fuel, manufacturing, and a host of other items.

In other words, man-made global warming is just a Convenient Lie.

For a Good Synopsis of the HPV Vaccine Flap in Texas

2007-02-24T03:11:00.000-06:00

Check out bweldon's "Will the Real Rick Perry Please Stand up..." post on his blog. Mostly just the articles that have appeared, with a few facts about the timeline. I maintain that Perry is doing this for two reasons:

1. Crony payback to his ex-chief-of-staff and his contributor: Merck.

2. National Headlines to get name recognition for a possible National Office.

It won't work, el Perrito, because any (R) running will see that you are not supported in this State, and will actually get fewer Texas votes than a real conservative from a different State. The only problem is, I don't see any real conservatives with a snowball's chance in Hawaii of getting on the GOP National Ticket.

I'm seeing shades of Bob Dole, again. Even though any real conservative would walk away with the election, we aren't going to get one to vote for, and will sit out, again, just like in 1996. The Dem candidate will suck, but the GOP opponent will suck worse.

Virgin Mary in Image on Cookie Pan

2007-02-24T02:18:00.000-06:00

Today's Houston Chronicle has an article about a cafeteria worker finding an image of the Virgin Mary on a recently cleaned cookie pan.

I have a few comments to make. First off, let me mention the Chronicle's inimitable style:

Scientists call this phenomenon religious pareidolia, when the eye sees religious images in objects such as tree trunks and grilled cheese sandwiches.

I have a pretty good vocabulary. I had never heard the emphasized word above. I looked it up, and it was invented in 1994 by some writer, based on "false" and "image." The problem is that the word has not been included in the unabridged dictionary, and is therefore not a valid word. I'm not saying that this is bad. It is just an observation. Should media use words in publications if the word is not yet accepted as standard English? I think if they do, they should italicize the word, and give a definition as well as an origin or etymology for its use.

Second thing, I've lived overseas for a good portion of my life. I've been to 54 different countries, and actually resided outside the USA three different times. I feel that having a rental contract and receiving mail there denotes residing there, so even though I spent 7 months straight in South Korea, I didn't consider that a residence, as I kept my permanent address in the US, and had my mail forwarded. This having been said, the people from Spain and Italy are some of the most superstitious people I've ever been around. The adoring crowds coming to see this image are almost all Latino by the surnames mentioned.

Third thing, give me a break! I'm going to fake a few of these sandwiches, pans, or other contrivances just to show that there's nothing miraculous about it. I'm sure that if I had enough time, I could find a 1957 Chevy image in a grease stain on someone's driveway. Does that mean that God hates Fords? I don't think so.

I find situations such as this amusing more than anything else. I guess I'm just too jaded to see miracles in grease stains.

European Adventure - Gay Paris!

2007-02-22T15:08:00.000-06:00

I hope to relate my adventures in many of the countries I visited before this series is done. This time, I hope to make it one long story, with no omissions and backtracks.

Long before I was in the military myself, and not crashing on Sicilian runways or not creating International Incidents, I lived overseas with my father. During this time, I graduated High School, and had my version of National Lampoon’s European summer vacation.

At the time, I was living in southern Spain along the Costa de la Luz with my parents and my younger brother. Costa de la Luz means “Coast of the Lights,” and it is on the Pacific side of the Straits of Gibraltar. We got to see some fabulous sunsets and got to swim in the Atlantic Ocean, as well as seeing the Spanish girls in their all-but missing bikinis. This last is somewhat unusual, as the Spanish girls dressed like Joanie, of “Joanie and Chachi” fame during the winter months, but they dressed like they were trying to conserve cotton on pain of their lives during the summer. As I was an 18 year old at the time, I definitely preferred the summer attire. I’m slightly older than 18 now, and as I consider it, I still prefer their summer attire. Call me old-fashioned if you wish.

At the end of High School, and living in Europe, I was presented with a unique opportunity. I could travel around Europe on an “Interrail” pass. You may have heard of a Eurail pass, but possibly not. A Eurail pass allows young non-Europeans to travel to any country in Europe upon the extensive passenger train systems for a month or two for one relatively low price. The Interrail pass was the same, except it included the British Isles in its allowable destinations; something not allowed with the Eurail pass. As an American living in Europe, I opted for the Interrail pass, which is something that Americans not living in Europe are not allowed to do.

I got to travel with three other High School friends. I don’t have their permission to use their real names, so I’ll call them “Johnny Linderman,” “Sydney Numaard,” and “Mark Camposi.” Johnny was the fullback on our football team, and was 200 pounds of hard meat, but he had a great sense of humor. Sydney was a lineman, soft-spoken and very intelligent. Mark was a lineman, or tight end, and was a bit louder, but also a lot of fun. Those of you who have met me know that I’m also a fun-loving guy, so the four of us anticipated a great time as we made our way to foreign parts and experienced Europe for ourselves.

I’m sure that most people set up real plans when traveling to and around Europe, but the four of us had only a sketchy plan, at best. We were definitely going to make our way to London, Paris, and then parts east, but we weren’t really sure what we were going to do in any of the places once we got there. Meeting girls and drinking alcohol were part of our anticipated plans, but that was more of the fantasy planning part of it than any real strategies to achieve these ends.

So, we grabbed some backpacks, sleeping bags, a few changes of clothing, some essentials such as toothpaste and deodorant, and trekked to the local Estacion del Tren (train station) to grab our Interrail passes and begin our journey. Four 18 year old boys without any restraints beyond what their own intellect and consciences might enact, with a few hundred dollars apiece and no real plans beyond traveling around and seeing stuff didn’t bode well for being a vacation without some kind of difficulties and possibly a few police interviews. We weren’t disappointed.

We weren’t the standard Americans in Europe. Between the four of us, we spoke several of the European languages. We all spoke English, although I’m sure that most Brits would tend to disagree with that statement, no matter which American was the topic of discussion. We all spoke Spanish to one degree or another. I had lived in Spain the shortest amount of time of any of us, but I had studied Spanish for 3 years, as well, and I was therefore capable of making my way in any Spanish speaking country. I found later that the category of “Spanish speaking countries” does not include Mexico or the Texas Valley, but any native Spanish speakers not from those two locations will certainly vouch for this fact. I’m not sure what language they speak in Mexico, but it bears a remarkable similarity to Spanish without quite hitting the mark. Think of Mexican Spanish as the equivalent of Scottish English, and perhaps you’ll understand what I mean. If you've never heard Scottish English, stuff your mouth with mashed potatoes until your cheeks hurt, then say something without swallowing. That's Scottish English.

In addition to our English and Spanish skills, Mark Camposi told us that he spoke Italian. As he had an Italian surname, we believed him, since speaking a second foreign language is not all that uncommon in Europe. I had studied German in high school for five years. Now, when I say “studied,” I mean that in the most assiduously academic sense. The matriarch of a family in my US neighborhood was originally from the State of Bavaria in Germany. I practiced by talking to her every chance I got. In addition, I had made a bet with my fourth year German teacher that I could get a 100% on her final exam. This was no small bet, as the test was three legal-sized pages of single-spaced typed questions, and the instructions were written in German. One example question, though written in German said, “Translate the following English sentences into German. Put them into past passive voice.” Now, I’m thinking that most folks reading this right now wouldn’t be able to do that in English, much less in German. I got a 99.25% on that test, and I lost the bet. Personally, I think that if the roles were swapped, and I were the teacher, I would’ve conceded the bet since the next closest score was in the mid-80’s.

Editorial aside: “The boy holds the ball” would therefore be translated into past passive voice as “The ball was held by the boy.” This then has to be rendered into German. Even though I can’t remember where most of the umlauts go, it is something like “Das Ball wϋrd den Jungen gehälten haben werden,” but maybe that’s passive subjunctive past, instead of just passive past, which would translate as “The ball would have been held by the boy,” instead. I haven’t been to Germany for more than 6 weeks in my entire life, and therefore have gotten very few chances to practice the language I so painstakingly and diligently studied in High School.

Anyway, I was somewhat eager to practice my German skills and let my companions know that once we made it to German territory, I’d be able to get us by when language skills were needed therein.

Off we went on our trek. As we’d all lived in Spain for at least a year, the first thing we wanted to do was get out of Spain. Much like Houston Metro forces you to go through downtown Houston to get to any destination whatsoever (even if you really want to go from Sugarland to Katy, you’re going to go through downtown to get there), the Spanish train system forces you to go through Madrid. Now Madrid is a romantic city with many sites to see, museums to visit, and great people to meet, but we’d all been there before, and we wanted to leave the country, not sightsee in Spain, so we just swapped trains in the main train station and continued on our way. We were out for new experiences, not education or culture. That having been said, we did stop by McDonald’s to eat, since none of us had had a Big Mac for at least a year at this time, and really wanted one. I have since regained my sanity, and no longer eat at Mickey D’s.

Eventually, we made our way to the city of “Irún” in Northeastern Spain. In the 1970’s, Spain was a somewhat poor country. Much like those in Mexico, the people in Spain were more interested in the siesta than in the work that is supposed to book-end the siesta. Due to this, we called it the “Land of Tomorrow.” This means that whenever you wanted anything done, you can be assured that you would be promised that the work would be accomplished “tomorrow.” The following day, when you called to find out when the workman would arrive, you could again be assured the workman would be there “tomorrow.” It became a running gag, and the moniker aptly applied. I think my parents got a telephone installed in only three months, and were the envy of all their friends and co-workers, some of whom had been waiting for a telephone for over three decades, I believe. I found out later that our landlord ran a brothel in town, and I now suspect that he therefore got work done more quickly than most people either through bribery or blackmail, depending on the work to be accomplished, and the marital status of the workman tasked with the job.

Irún is a small city in northeastern Spain, as I mentioned. It is on the coast of the Bay of Biscay and is the passageway from Spain into the rest of Europe. Across the Bidasoa River is the French town of Hendaye. The thing that I immediately noticed upon coming to the River is that the buildings on the poorer Spanish side were the color of dull, unpainted concrete. I suspect this is because the buildings are constructed of dull concrete, and are unpainted. On the richer French side, the buildings are a bright white in color, at least in contrast to the Spanish gray color, they appeared bright white. I suspect that without their neighbors’ duller gray color, the French white wouldn’t appear quite as bright, having been to France many times since this, my first visit.

The open borders European policy was not yet in place. Nowadays, one can as easily drive from one European country to another as one can cross the border between two States inside the United States or as easily as an illegal immigrant can cross the Rio Grande River from Mexico into Texas or Arizona. At the time of my travels, however, this was not the case. We were forced to stop and “clear customs” at the border.

This was not the only reason we were forced to stop. The “gauge” of the train tracks in France is unique to France. Because the “gauge” was different, the wheels from the Spanish trains did not fit onto the French tracks, and the French trains could not fit on the Spanish tracks. I think this was done after WWII to cause the Germans problems the next time they invaded and France surrendered. I’m fairly certain that the sentences “The Germans have invaded,” and “I surrender” are pronounced exactly alike in French.

So, we had to walk from one country to the other, through several gated passageways, and past several desks manned by bored bureaucrats who continually skimmed and stamped passports. My first foreign stamp was thereby entered into my passport, as I had not received a stamp upon my entry into Spain. I was now, officially, a foreign traveler. My mother must have been proud.

We were all a bit excited upon emerging from the customs gauntlet on the French side of the River. Although it had taken us the better part of a day to get there from southwestern Spain, we were now truly on our European Tour. We had been living in Spain for several years, and it had stopped seeming “foreign” to us. Many of our friends were Spanish, and we were pretty much used to hanging out in Spanish bars and cafes, but France was new and bright.

We went to the ticket window to get our Interrail passes stamped to allow us to continue our travels, as this is always required. If you are onboard a train without the proper stamp, the conductor will charge you the fare for the coach you are occupying. This would definitely cut into our alcohol and girl money, so we diligently got our stamps at every opportunity. At least, that was our original plan.

You may have noticed when I listed the European languages that we spoke, French was nowhere on the list. This was not an accidental omission. Since none of us spoke even a single word of French, I thought it best not to list it in our language repertoire. However, the Spanish word for “ticket” is “billetto,” or similar (I speak Spanish fairly often, but I don’t write it much at all), and the French word is “Biglitiere” or similar, as well. The point is that the words are similar enough that even 4 high school graduates who don’t speak French can easily deduce that the windows with the lines and the sign with the word that looks a lot like the Spanish word for “ticket” are probably the ticket windows.

Our logic was not mistaken. Indeed, we went to the window after waiting in line, understood not a word the guy said, presented our Interrail passes and said, “Paris.” He typed some things into a machine that was not a computer, and then wrote something illegible in our passes and stamped them, one by one. Each of us had to do exactly the same thing, because a stack of four passes cannot be processed in a single batch, apparently. Each of us had to go through the “Interrail pass stamping procedure” before we were allowed on our way. This tendency to do things one-by-one may be one of the reasons the lines were as long as they were. There must have been 8 windows available, but only two were open, although at least four of them were manned. There must be an international school for government workers to teach them inefficiency, sloth, and disrespect, as I have found these traits to be a worldwide commonality among all government workers.

However, we may have been young, but that didn’t make us stupid. We did not complain or harass the ticket stamping bureaucrat, as we all knew that would just cause him to go even slower, to be even less efficient, and probably even more “error” prone. No, we each went to the window individually, said “Paris,” and waited for the typing, writing, and stamping. In a relatively short time, we were making our way to the proper track.

I don’t now remember the French word for “track” or “platform,” but it was not hard to figure it out, as every platform had the same word printed on a sign above it, followed by a number. I actually know the word, as I have since become able to “get by” in French when traveling, but it escapes me now. Regardless, train schedules are easy to read, and we all checked the departures board to find the proper platform to go to. We got onto our first French train, and were on our way to “Gay Paris,” although no one calls it that anymore, since the word “gay” has been usurped by homosexuals. It’s really too bad, because now we don’t have anything to call it except “Paris,” and some girl of loose morals, who shall remain otherwise anonymous, has made the connotation of the word “Paris” even less palatable to most people. No... Paris then was more well-thought-of than it is now, for many reasons.

Upon arriving in Paris, carrying our backpacks and wandering around, we made our way to the Eiffel Tower. Firstly, though, we needed to find somewhere to sleep. We had heard and read about “youth hostels,” which are cheap, efficient, sorta dirty places that young people can use to sleep in while making their way around Europe on as few dollars as possible. Basically, they keep the rain off your head, and allow you to eliminate bodily wastes into porcelain fixtures rather than onto the sides of buildings or behind trees in parks. This last, I think, was originally the main impetus to their development. We looked for a youth hostel, but were out of luck. Instead, we found a hotel that looked perfect for us. “Perfect” in this case meant “cheap.” There was a sign out front that said, “Chambres” which we were able to determine to mean “rooms,” because it’s almost just like the English word for “chamber.”

We went inside and spoke with the man behind the desk. Now, from the street outside the hotel/rooms place, one could actually see the Eiffel Tower. The Eiffel Tower is one of those things that almost all tourists coming to Paris want to see and visit, so they can go back to their country of origin and tell their friends, “I went to the Eiffel Tower.” There’s really not much more of a reason to go there, but everyone does it, and we were going to do the same, once we were ensconced in our hotel.

When starting to talk to the man behind the desk, we got our first “French Lesson for Foreigners.” What follows is the conversation as best as I can remember it:

One of us: “Do you speak English?”
Desk clerk at French Hotel in Tourist area: “Non.”
Johnny, our best Spanish speaker: “¿Se habla Ud. español?”
Desk clerk at French Hotel where we can see the Eiffel Tower from right outside: “Non.”
Mark, our Italian speaker: “Parlai Italiano?”
Desk clerk who must deal with non-French people daily to do his job: “Non.”
Me, our German linguist: “Kannst du Deutsch sprechen?”
Desk clerk who probably actually spoke 16 languages, but is from France: “Non.”

We then consulted with each other and returned to the clerk. We said, “Chamber” to him in about four or five different accents, since that’s what we had read on the sign at the entrance to the lobby. I even did my best “Inspector Clouseau” impersonation and said, “Ruim” just like Peter Sellers had said it in the Pink Panther, to no avail. Now at this point, I realized the guy was just being difficult. He works behind a desk at a hotel. Strange people walk up with backpacks. They start speaking languages you may or may not understand, but it doesn’t take an IQ of 150 to guess that maybe, just maybe, these people want a room for at least one night or so.

Eventually, Monsieur Difficíle lets us fill out a single registration card for a room. He seems somewhat averse to doing this, and lets us know it is going to cost us about $6 (US) apiece by writing the number on a piece of paper. We pay, although in Francs, as that’s what the French used for money at the time. We go to our room, noting that the bathroom is at the end of hallway, and that it is communal, but we knew this was likely upon beginning our European travels, as Europe is “quaint.”

Now, for those of you who aren’t aware, “quaint” means an old, inefficient, difficult way of doing something. When Americans first visit Europe, all the quaint things are charming, and add to the Continental feeling of everything. After about a week, “quaint” shows its true form, which is actually “inconvenient.” Things that at first intrigued you and made you say, “Isn’t that quaint?” to anyone within earshot now make you clench your jaw and say to yourself, “When are these effing Europeans going to advance to this century and discover things like air conditioners and indoor plumbing?”

However, we were 18, and as such, we weren’t too concerned about lack of privacy or ease of use. We just wanted somewhere cheap to lay our heads, and within walking distance of wherever we wanted to go.

We went out and made our way to the Eiffel Tower, which, as I said, we could see from our Hotel’s entrance. We realized within a very short time that it was quite a bit farther than we first thought. I had been to Lion King Safari/King’s Dominion in Virginia, where they have a replica Eiffel Tower, at about 1/3 scale. Due to this, I didn’t realize just how big a full-scale version of the real thing really was. What we thought was just a few blocks away ended up being closer to two miles.

We were young, and all athletes of some sort, so this wasn’t that much of an inconvenience. We had a week to spend in Paris, and we were just starting our sightseeing, like any other American tourists, except with less cash than most.

Eventually, we got to the Eiffel Tower. If you have never been there, let me describe its location. It is in the center of a 5 or six lane (maybe more) traffic circle. There are cars spinning around it all the time and you must cross this death trap to get to the base, so you can pay to ride the elevator to the top. Of course, being a tourist, I wanted to get a picture. Being young, and therefore stupid and immune to consequences for my actions, I decided I needed to get a picture looking straight up the side of the tower. If you’ve never taken a picture of something tall like this, let me tell you that the “look up the side view” gives one a pretty good idea of the actual scale of the object better than any other view. I didn’t know this at the time, but thought it would make a great shot. Later, after I got the film developed, I found that I was right, and have been using this view to photograph tall objects ever since.

I focused my camera skyward, and started to move to get the up-the-side shot I was looking for. I finally got it framed just perfectly and snapped my shot... just in time to have the driver who was about to run me over honk his horn and screech to a stop a few feet from me, thereby not killing me and depriving you of the rest of my tale. The other cars behind him screeched to a halt as well, which was a good thing in my opinion. Unbeknownst to myself, I had wandered out across one lane of traffic and into the second lane before getting the shot I wanted. I found myself in front of an angry French driver, in the middle of a lane of traffic.

I hastily waved my hand in greeting, smiled, and ran back to the base of the tower, to get in line with my friends to buy my ticket. I wasn’t in the least bit fazed by what had just happened. I had lived in tourist cities for most of my life, and knew that tourists did stupid crap all the time. It was just my turn to be the stupid tourist. Had I been able to hear the driver, I would have been able to expand my French vocabulary beyond its current encyclopedic length of “non” to include the French phrase for “stupid tourist.” But, as I was young and the visitor, as I said, I was unfazed by the happenings and ready to continue my touring.

We got on the elevator and rode up to the first platform, which is less than a third of the way up the side. I took pictures from all four sides, looking out over the city of Paris, so you can see French pollution and haze with unknown fountains and buildings in the foreground. French haze looks pretty much like any haze I’ve ever seen, with the exception of the pollution in Beijing. In Beijing, the haze has a distinctive brown color and smell that I’ve not seen or smelled, respectively, anywhere else in the world. The French variety was just the grayish-dirty fog color one can see in most cities during any given windless day.

We continued to the top of the Eiffel Tower, where I got more pictures, as well as a better view of not just the pollution, but also of the river. This is the Seine River. I think “Seine” must mean “dark water that smells bad,” in French, but I’m not sure. If it doesn’t mean that, then the River is misnamed, and should be renamed whatever word does mean “dark water that smells bad.” Most European rivers fall into this category, as do many of their American and Asian counterparts.

Having had our de rigueur Eiffel Tower visit, we made our way back down to the ground without buying silly tower souvenirs or any of their overpriced water or soda pops. There is a mall, not the shopping type, along one of the sides of the Tower that has fountains and greenswards. This is the angle from which the tower is viewed in all the movies where they’re trying to show Paris as a romantic city. With the exception of that one place, less than an acre in total land area, there is absolutely nowhere in Paris that I would call romantic. Perhaps if my French vocabulary were to expand beyond the single word of “non,” I might have felt differently, but having been there since, and learned a few more words, I haven’t changed my original opinion. I think that Americans still say that Paris is romantic because they have spent $10,000 to get there for a week, and to say that they’ve wasted enough money to buy a fairly decent used car for a week of disappointment just wouldn’t seem too smart to their friends.

We made our way along the River Smellé and tried to find the Cathedral of Notre Dame. We found it, but apparently it was either not open to tourists, or closed for the day, or we were too dumb to find out how to get in, but we never got to see the inside of it. I do have a few pictures of it from the bank, but that’s about it. It looks like a building on an island in a dirty river, if you’re interested.

So, we made our way back to the cafes of the Champs Elysees, which is the other area that’s shown as romantic in the movies. Having now been there, let me say that the cafes and sidewalks along this route are about as romantic as a food court in your favorite shopping mall. It serves much the same purpose, as well, except there is collusion among the cafe owners to charge outrageous prices and to have monolingual waiters who are as friendly and helpful as any Gila monster or rattlesnake you’ve ever encountered. Although it was done for comedic purposes, Chevy Chase’s portrayal of an American tourist getting insulted by a French waiter in Paris was not done with dramatic license. I’m certain it was a transcript from many actual conversations that have taken place there.

Anyway, we had found that there is no French word for “helpful,” in our many attempts to use our many European languages (for Americans, at least) to help us make our way through the city. The concept of “helpful” does not exist, so why would they have a word for it? It is like asking what the Inuit word for “mosquito” is, or the mainland Chinese word for “hygiene,” or the Mexican (which is not Spanish) word for “sanitary.” Why have a word for a concept you don’t understand?

We were lamenting the fact that we couldn’t get anything to eat or drink, when a guy a few years older than ourselves, that is to say in his early to mid-20’s, walked up to us, and said in perfect English, “Do you guys need some help?” I was wrong! There was such a thing as a helpful Frenchman! We were so relieved! We told him our foodless and drinkless dilemma, and he immediately guided us to a table, sat us down, sat down himself, and commenced to translate our desires to the aforementioned rude waiters.

It didn’t take us long to realize that he was an American himself. He was from the Midwest somewhere, and as we questioned him, living and studying in France. We got our food and drinks, and even got a drink for him, regardless of our must-make-it-at-least-a-month budgets. We had a good time, and a few more drinks, and our outlook of Paris was being transformed when Johnny asked him, “So what are you doing here in Paris?”

“Helping tourists who don’t speak French to get free drinks,” was his candid response.

Our previously improving opinions of France and the French, and now of French-speaking American students in France, plummeted below the previous nadir and continued down until, as a group, we came to an unvoiced decision.

We finished our drinks and food, bought him another drink, although much more grudgingly this time, and took our leave. We strolled back to the hotel and began discussing our day’s adventure. From the customs agents, to the ticket agent, to the hotelier who spoke nothing but “non,” to the overpriced trinkets, to the closed Cathedrals and museums and dirty sidewalks, to the rude waiters, to the mercenary American student, we decided that Paris in particular and France in general were not places we wanted to spend any more time or money than absolutely necessary.

We had, though, already paid for our hotel room, complete with its external public toilet facilities and strange odor. We decided to stay there for the night, and make our way further onward the next morning. When we settled in for the night, Mark noticed a note scratched into some wood molding on the wall. It said, “I had my money stolen here” followed by a date that was about two months prior to our reading.

We inventoried our items, and found nothing missing, but all of us just smiled inwardly and realized that we had made a good decision to leave France to the French, and occasionally its German conquerors, and be on our way.

The next morning, we made our way to the Paris Train station, and bid adieu to Paris. Never have I made a better decision in my life.

We then continued with our tour, which you can read about in the next installment.

RINO's Spending Like Drunken Sailors

2007-02-21T11:01:00.000-06:00

The following is the text of an email I sent to my representative in the Texas State House, Dwayne Bohac. It is in regards to their "Busting a Cap" at the Texas Tax Payer.

I once thought you were a conservative. But the vote on February 20th tore away your veil and showed you for the big government spender that you are.

Please, feel free to look up my voting record. I was voting in every election in Sealy when I lived there, and I haven't missed a vote since I moved into your district.

Rest assured that I will be supporting and campaigning for your opponent in the primary, in the main election, and in any other way that I can, I will be opposing your re-election.

You think the Constitutional Spending cap is there to be ignored? A conservative does not vote the way you voted. Please do not give me the strawman that you did it to "give us the tax cut."

That's balderdash, and you and I both know it, so don't insult my intelligence, or further erode any credence you might have left by offering it as an excuse. Use the extra money you can now waste to buy a clue. Listen to Dan Patrick, because your erstwhile voters certainly are.

You've got a hard row to hoe to get my vote back, and I'm going to see to it that at least my neighborhood remembers your free-spending ways when the next election cycle starts.

Apparently the Texas so-called republicans didn't learn a thing from last November's elections. We conservatives are tired of being taken for granted. The Democrats may be able to continually skewer their base, and still get the votes, but we showed you in November that you can't treat us the same and get the same results. I guess a second and harsher lesson is necessary.

With all due respect,

Wino
Ex-Texas Republican

I am tired of these RINO's. They are not republicans. They are not conservative. I used to be politically active. I am going to do so again.

I haven't bothered writing to my State Senator, nor my US House Rep, because they are Whitmire and Queen Sheila. Neither of them cares a whit about me, so I don't waste my time.

Houviews Hits the Big Time!

2007-02-21T06:42:00.000-06:00

That's right! Houviews now has an advertising budget. The editors of Houviews decided to spend the entire advertising budget on Lonestar Times for a mini ad to promote our most recent giveaway.

Don't forget to check out our publications, and let us know whether you like our latest ad or not.

We've used the "editorial 'we'" in this post, since we're now a big time blog!

Here's a preview of what it should look like:

Cow Patties!

2007-02-21T05:17:00.000-06:00

The Texas State Government is lying to us as it sticks it to us again. They say they are going to give us back the money they are voting to spend. I say they are lying, and it is no more coming back to us than Governor Goodhair's tax reduction actually reduced taxes.

"I'm happy with busting the cap... so that we can give the money back to the taxpayers," said Rep. Warren Chisum, R-Pampa, chairman of the House Appropriations Committee. "I think the taxpayers will be plenty happy with us giving money back to 'em — $14 billion...

I say that less than $500 million will actually be realized by the tax payers by them "giving money back to 'em."

I will not support the Texas RINO party any more. I'm through with them. We need a conservative party in Texas. Will we get one?

The only part of Chisum's quote that I believe is what I emphasized above. I'm sure they are happy with busting the cap... to get more boondoggles, waste more money, pay off more lobbyists, and generally enrich themselves and their cronies.

Religion of Peace Update

2007-02-20T16:43:00.000-06:00

Pakistani Government Minister killed by practioner of "Religion of Peace" (tm)

I know.. I know... I find it hard to believe, myself. Read the article for all the sordid details. She was "guilty" of not wearing a veil, being a woman, and being in politics.

Who can blame the perpetrator when faced with such blatant disregard for propriety?

Go to Lonestar Pundit

2007-02-20T14:25:00.000-06:00

He's got a video up that I wish I knew how to post here. If you haven't seen that news report yet, and you REALLY support the troops, I think you'll find it worth the download time.

Check out "Welcome Home a Hero Today" at the link above (or click the title to this article).

Now I Understand About Global Warming

2007-02-20T14:10:00.000-06:00

I have been having a problem understanding all the hype and people jumping on the bandwagon of "global warming" (aka "climate change," nee "New Ice Age"). I finally read an article that brought it all into focus for me, and now it all makes sense.

Big Companies Jump on Global Warming Bandwagon

"While we believe that applying technology against problems will create positive business opportunities that can result in positive change, national, state and local governments, academia and other non-governmental organizations must step forward with equal force," he said.

Emphasis, of course, added.

Alcoa, General Electric, DuPont and other corporate giants have already launched the United States Climate Action Partnership, demanding enforced change at the federal level in Washington.

Who is pushing for a "fix" to this non-problem?

1. Governments. Why? So they can enact new hand-cuffing laws for businesses, and increase their control.
2. Envirusmentalists. Why? So they can force people into more primitive lifestyles, so that their anti-capitalism goals (their real goals, that is) can be furthered.
3. Now Businesses. Why? See the quote above.

Now it is starting to make sense. They've bled us dry with taxes, and we're starting to seriously complain, and they've pushed up their profit margins as much as they can without us finding cheaper alternatives, so they had to find another way.

What better way than to outlaw the competition, increase the authoritarian rule, and forcing folks into behaving, and more importantly spending the way they want us to.

The recent Aussie edict to go to fluorescent bulbs sounds good, until you try to turn one on outside on a cold night. It won't light up correctly, because they don't work good in cold weather. I bet a few deaths occur due to this fact, in time. But the State can afford to lose one or two citizens. They don't really care.

The You're-A-Peons (alternate spelling: Europeans) are the worst of this socialist, controlling flock of sheep bleating for the ones ahead of them to move faster as they move down the chute toward the slaughterhouse.

Why I Think It Isn't a Non-viable Tissue Mass

2007-02-20T12:45:00.000-06:00

World's most premature baby born at 21 weeks.

"They want to observe her a couple more days," the hospital spokeswoman said of Amillia Taylor, who was born at 21 weeks and six days.

When she was born on October 24, Amillia weighed just 280 grams (10 ounces) and measured 240 centimeters (9.5 inches,) slightly longer than a ballpoint pen, the Baptist Childrens Hospital in Miami announced Monday.

This little child was still in the second trimester, and therefore could have been chopped up and sucked out of a woman's womb with a vacuum, in the US.

Tell me again about "choice" and that it isn't a baby. I'm not believing it.

To All the Ladies

2007-02-19T23:11:00.000-06:00

Ladies, please read this article. I don't want anything to happen to any of you.

Nearly all American women are in danger of heart disease or stroke and should be more aggressive about lowering their risk — including asking their doctors about daily aspirin use, the American Heart Association said today in new guidelines.

It is the first time guidelines have urged all women to consider aspirin for preventing strokes, although specialists warn that it can cause ulcers and dangerous bleeding. They said it is probably not a good idea for young women with no big health problems.

Sincerely, this is new medical advice.

Cross-Killing College Allows Sex Workers, Though

2007-02-19T09:59:00.000-06:00

The College of William and Mary, who didn't allow the cross to remain in their church because it might offend people, saw no problem with allowing sex workers to hold an exhibit on campus.

A recent "sex workers" art show at the College of William & Mary is prompting more questions about President Gene R. Nichol's leadership of the 314-year-old public university.
Mr. Nichol allowed the "Sex Workers' Art Show" to stop at William & Mary last week as part of its national tour. The event included male and female strippers, escorts and prostitutes in various states of undress expressing their feelings on subjects ranging from their jobs to global politics.
The criticism against Mr. Nichol began in October when he removed a cross from the school's Wren Chapel to make it more open to people of all faiths.
Mr. Nichol said he removed the cross because potential students and their families viewing the chapel on campus tours immediately departed and because a Jewish student required to participate in a program in the chapel vowed never to return.

I guess naked people don't offend anyone.

Wanna bet that he voted democrat?

If You Read Nothing Else, Ever Again

2007-02-17T18:07:00.000-06:00

Read the very well-stated post "So you voted? So what?"

This is a military mother who responds to the recent US Congressional vote to abandon our troops.

The font and background are hard to read on my monitor, but the content is worth the effort.

Hat tip to Sargevining.

Bush's Surge Plan is Already Working

2007-02-17T13:31:00.000-06:00

The link's first phrase says it all:

Sunni insurgents have been streaming out of Baghdad to escape the security crackdown...

'nuff said.

I can't wait till next election, when the Gimmecrats learn that they did NOT get a mandate... the republicans were spanked, and the Gimmecrats were the only ones left afterwards.

A Perilous Tale - Another Omission

2007-02-15T01:28:00.000-06:00

Once again, I’m going to relate a tale that is 100% true, with a few exceptions. You can identify the exceptions by the fact that all of the words in the lies have letters in them.

In my last tale, I purposely omitted the following incidents, as they were not germane to the point of me nearly creating an international incident. I’m going to now relate them to interested readers with the hope of completing this sad and sordid tale.

We had just left the MAC terminal in Naples, Italy on what can best be described as an airliner, except that most airliners have a first class section. MAC airplanes aren’t all that much different, otherwise. The plane we were flying was a “stretch 8,” which is a DC-8 that they’ve done something to, in order to make it longer. Actually stretching it is not what they do, I don’t think, as aluminum is not the most tensile of materials, and I don’t think airliners, even those flown by MAC, are made out of rubber, but since I neither design nor build airplanes, I could be totally mistaken.

We got the standard safety lecture, including how to close and open a seatbelt. As an aside, I’ve always felt that if one could not figure out how to fasten or open a seatbelt, then wouldn’t we be better off, as a species, without him? Think of Darwin’s theory and improving the gene pool. What kind of an epitaph would read, “He survived the crash, but was doomed by failing to pay full attention during the seatbelt lecture?”

However, we now settled in for a relaxing flight to Sigonella, Sicily, complete with drink service and meals, as I said, similar to any other flight one has had the pleasure of flying.

The captain came over the intercom system with the unnecessary, but always given “captain talk,” that predictably included the weather conditions, expected flight time, shoe sizes and anything else he cared to include. Per my normal wont, I didn’t listen to a thing he said. I’m fairly certain these are just recordings, anyway, since every pilot on every plane I’ve ever flown aboard has said exactly the same thing, in exactly the same voice.

It was a largely uneventful flight. My seat mates were others like myself, none in uniform and on some kind of official orders. There were most likely some “Space Available” or “Space A” passengers as well, but it is hard to distinguish those who are hopping a ride for the fun of it, and those of us who were actually en route to some destination that we had to get to for whatever military duties we were supposed to perform. None of us were in uniform, because we were going to Israel, and folks in uniform in Israel have about the same odds of surviving as a tax cut in a democratic Congress.

Things quickly took a turn for the worse, though, as we seemed to be “drilling holes in the air” for quite a while. This consists of flying straight for a bit, then turning, then flying straight, and turning again, until you eventually end up where you started, and then continue to fly straight then turn a few more times.

Eventually, the captain came over the intercom once again. This time, though, the announcement was not one of the normal weathercasts or “put your seat backs into the full upright and locked landing position even though it will cause irreparable harm to your spine and posture” spiels. What he said was, “Ladies and gentlemen, we have not been given permission to land. In fact, we have been directed back to the main land; however there is a slight problem. We do not have enough fuel to make it to another airport. We are forced to land without help from the tower. Please, everyone remain calm and stay seated. I’ll update your further at a later time.” He casually omitted the disclaimer, “That is, unless we crash in a giant fireball and everyone is killed.” This omission was probably a wise move on his part.

Apparently, wind direction and which runway to use are the kinds of information that the tower normally helps the pilot with, but in this case, it was a guess on our pilot’s part as to wind and weather conditions on the ground, temperature and forecast (already delivered) notwithstanding.

I was in a window seat, and looked outside at the dark night sky. As we approached the runway, I noticed that we had quite a bit of roll to our airplane as we descended. In fact, I was scared out of my britches because I saw stars, then nothing, then runway and house lights, back to nothing, back to stars, again and again. Needless to say, this can be disconcerting to most people.

Not being most people, though, I quickly realized that our fates were in the hands of our pilot, who had already distinguished himself as unlucky by his lack of fuel, and inappropriate runway guess, and God. I’m not sure if God is instrument-rated on a stretch-8, though, so I felt that our pilot, regardless of his choices so far, had most of the responsibility at this point.

After what seemed like a two day approach, we made it onto the tarmac without more than the normal bump, though. The pilot’s flying skills were grossly overshadowed by his landing skills, for which I was grateful. After his nearly perfect landing, the pilot immediately came across the intercom and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated. All window shades must remain in the open position, and do not do anything that might be considered threatening.”

Typically, that last part is not normally conveyed during pilot announcements. Of course, I had to open my window shade, as, after realizing the pilot would or would not improve my opinion of his skills by landing safely or by having us tumble down the runway in a large soda can, cart wheeling along at 200 mph as it sprays fuel, luggage, and probably body parts as it continues its journey. As the body parts would most likely be coming from us passengers, I made the command decision to close the window shade, and accept whatever may come. It’s not like you have many other choices as a passenger, after all.

Once we came to a stop, at the far end of the runway, we were immediately surrounded by the Italian Paramilitary police, the Carabinieri, which roughly translates as “the riflemen.” Two armored vehicles, complete with top-mounted 50 caliber machine guns, pulled up with men dutifully and apparently competently manning said guns, which were not so unpredictably pointed in the direction of our airplane.

The backs of the two armored vehicles opened, and each of them disgorged about a dozen uniformed and Uzi-armed Carabinieri officers onto the tarmac who immediately surrounded the airplane and kept their Uzis trained on us. Needless to say, this did not bode well for a “Welcome to Sicily” get together.

After a while, the pilot came across the intercom once again, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are going to deplane and board some buses they are bringing out to us. Take nothing with you as you disembark. Ladies, this includes your purses and any personal belongings you might have.”

Now, as unusual as this order was, it was not completely illogical. After all, for some reason, our plane had landed without permission, and forced its way onto native Italian soil also without permission. Not illogical, though, did not mean that we could all follow it.

You may or may not remember that I was tasked with carrying an envelope to “Building 22,” on the US base on Sigonella. We happened to be at the civilian airport of Catania, which doesn’t mean much, except to say that it is not Sigonella. I now have conflicting demands on me: I must deplane without anything, as per the pilot, and enforced by the men with the Uzis and 50 caliber weapons on armored vehicles; I must not allow the classified information out of my possession until delivered to the appropriate destination.

This conflict was easily resolved on my part. The Italians were threatening a quick and mostly painless, if somewhat gory, death, while the US Military is more than capable of inflicting long and tiresome penalties on those who transgress one of their systems. The secret-carrying system said I didn’t let go of the package, and there was no way I was going to do so.

This didn’t go down too well with the flight crew. After all, they were probably not versed in proper procedures when threatened by armed paramilitary governmental groups, unless they needed seatbelt instructions, anyway. No, they weren’t too happy when I insisted on disobeying the one unusual request we had been given.

Eventually, they let me carry my envelope, and the Italians eyed me suspiciously, as I was the only one, flight crew included, who was not completely empty-handed. Apparently, the Carabinieri are suspicious of guns disguised as sealed envelopes with custody forms attached to the outside. At this point, I stood out like the proverbial sore thumb, but was allowed on the bus, regardless.

Several hundred of us were placed onto buses, and transported to the US Military base of Signonella, which was a short trip away. Upon arrival on the flight line at Sig’, I noticed something very unusual. There were two lines of troops arrayed one-line-to-a-side along the flight line, with a civilian airliner in the midst. The troops in one line included more Carabinieri and some Italian military men, who looked a lot less confident and poised than the Carabinieri. The other line consisted of US Marines, in full battle dress, with arms and jeeps. The Carabinieri are an elite group of anti-terrorist and internal security personnel, but their professionalism and poise was nothing compared to the US Marines. There is nothing more resolute than a bunch of “jar heads” who are finally given the order to actually do something other than prepare to do something, which is their only pastime, to my knowledge. These marines were fully armed, and appeared to be very familiar with their armaments. I won’t quite go so far as to say they looked eager, but I’m certain that had the order been given, they would have wasted zero time and effort in completing the task of destroying all enemy forces and possibly stray buses full of passengers who had just recently not crashed while landing on the wrong runway.

Two men were directly between the two lines of soldiers. These men were discussing something, but I wasn’t sure what. I asked our bus driver what was happening. Now, although the military is very good at keeping secrets out of the hands of enemies, they are completely incapable of keeping any secrets from their own people, with very few exceptions. There is even a phrase, “There are no secrets onboard a ship,” which means that anything that happens, every person within the command knows everything about it. Sometimes the details are skewed or exaggerated, but the gist of the rumors is always accurate. I tapped into this fount of knowledge by asking the E2 driving the bus what was amiss.

He glanced at my envelope and custody forms, recognizing the “carrying something official” details of my envelope carrying duties, and decided I must be authorized to access the rumor mill. Besides, I was probably the only person who spoke English that hadn’t already received the news via osmosis through the local grapevine. He now had the chance to prove his access to someone allowed the information.

“Our airplanes forced down an airliner,” he started, telling me something that I’d already guessed on my own, otherwise the airliner would not be here or would be afire, rather than sitting sedately on the tarmac. “Right now, our consul is talking to some Italian government type to determine who gets to take custody of Abu Nidal, who was on the airliner.”

If you remember the incident of the Achille Lauro, which was an Italian luxury liner out on a Mediterranean cruise when terrorists took it over, you will remember that Leon Klinghoffer was pushed overboard, wheelchair and all, for being mouthy to the terrorists. The brave soul who shot and dumped the 72 year old over the side was none other than Abu Nidal, a leader of Hezballah. This is probably a pseudonym, since all Middle Eastern terrorists are named Mohammad, and they obviously take pseudonyms to keep the jobs straight. Otherwise, the briefings would be similar to: “Mohammad will steal the truck, then Mohammad will install the bomb, then Mohammad will drive Mohammad to the site when Mohammad will take over and blow up himself and the truck, and all the infidels in the area.” This can lead to confusion, needless to say, so they take the pseudonyms, like I mentioned.

So, Abu Nidal, aka “Mohammad,” is on Italian soil, but on an American base, and had been forced down by American aircraft. The long and the short of it was that the Italians took custody of him, then, following the lead of the French, chickened out and let him go, lest the terrorists continue to blow up Italian people and things, which they continued to do anyway, but that’s getting ahead of this story.

We’re sitting in a bus, on an airstrip, with the decisions still being decided, with guys and guns there to back up any disagreements with force. Force may not be all that diplomatic, but it certainly is an effective way of making your will become the way, assuming your force is bigger than their force, which was not the case at this time, both forces being fairly equal to one-another.

One of our escorts approached the two men who were between the lines of men with guns, undoubtedly to let them know that we had landed without permission, this being preferable to falling into the ocean, by our captain’s reckoning. Personally, I see nothing wrong with the pilot’s logic, by the way.

After a very short while, the escort comes back and tells us that we’re going to get our fuel and be allowed to depart. I would assume the exchange, to which I was not a party, went something like this:

Escort: “The people on these buses were on an airplane that landed in Catania without permission. They claim to be American military, a ‘MAC’ aircraft. They claim to be out of fuel.”

Man or men on tarmac: “Well, give them fuel and tell them to leave. We’re busy.”

Escort: “OK.”

The plan to get fuel and depart is fine with everyone not carrying a package and not tasked with delivering the package to “Building 22,” on fear of their lives or years in Leavenworth, as I was. Therefore, the “going back to the plane to leave after being fueled” plan wasn’t too bad, for most of us, and except for the delivery option I was forced to complete, wasn’t too bad a plan from my point of view either. Leaving without getting killed was, once again, in my top three objectives at the time, and my options seemed to be somewhat mutually exclusive.

I’m in a quandary. Actually, I was in a bus, but the quandary was present, nonetheless. How do I get my package delivered to the infamous “Building 22,” without becoming one of those silhouettes that are used for target practice, albeit with more details than the normal faceless silhouette, and possibly fewer and messier holes? You may also recall that I have a deep, abiding respect for anyone well-armed whom I am about to disobey. Determining their marksmanship skill with my person, though, is usually not my objective, as it was indeed not in this case.

Another thing sorely lacking on military bases, besides efficiency, is taxi cabs. This is because of two things: One, most military folks don’t have the cash it takes for taxis; and two, when the military folks want to spend some money on taxi cabs, they spend it to get away from the base, not to get around on the base. There is typically a bus service, although the bus resembles a civilian bus not in the least. The bus is usually a semi-tractor pulling a box with holes, similar to the boxes with holes that farmers tow to move cattle from ranch to market, and are therefore called, “cattle cars.” This nomenclature is used for both the cattle-carrying and military-personnel-carrying variety of box behind the semi-tractor, although the cattle-carrying type is usually quieter, even if neither of them can be distinguished by smell.

Regardless of the lack of public transportation, I needed to get from Catania, where we were again headed, back to Sigonella, where we were currently leaving. I figured that since I was already half-way to my destination, which was back to the airplane after delivering the package, I should probably get off the bus to get back to the “getting back to the airplane without getting shot” plan I had not really formulated much beyond naming it. I first had to deliver the package before I could get back to the getting back part, though.

I asked our bus driver, who had a warm place in his heart for me since I had allowed him the pleasure of talking about a secret he wasn’t supposed to talk about without getting him thrown into Leavenworth, if he would let me off the bus. I asked the flight attendants, who were not similarly inclined toward me since I had increased their chances of getting shot by paramilitary types solely to keep myself out of Leavenworth, if they would please ask the pilot to give me some extra time to complete my sworn duties.

Relying on the facts that I was, indeed, on official duties, and that the flight attendants and flight crew were also in the military, and therefore supposed to follow orders, I got off the bus, and set about finding “Building 22.” You may note that we landed at night, hence my “star seeing” when the plane rolled before I closed my window shade, which did not bode well for finding a lot of folks walking around and able to help a stranger find “Building 22.”

One thing about the military, as I earlier noted, is that their systems are simplistic but effective. The “Building Numbering System” consists of painting large black numbers on even larger white backgrounds on the sides of buildings. I’m not sure how they come up with the numbers, but apparently, proximity is not always one of the criteria they might use. For instance, in my neighborhood, number 1122 is usually near 1121 and 1126, for example. The odds of Building 22 being near Building 23 were probably slightly better than even, so I set about trying to find buildings numbered less than 40, in hopes that the 20’s would be somewhere in the general vicinity. As this was a military base, though, the odds were slightly worse than even that the buildings would be more or less randomly numbered. It might have something to do with the “secret keeping system,” but I think it has more to do with the “efficiency penalty” that almost all military systems invariably have, with the exception of communications.

After a bit of walking in a single direction, I came upon some government buildings. These are distinguished not just by the aforementioned numbers painted prominently on the outside wall, but also by the complete lack of imagination in their design. With practically no external ornamentation, military buildings have four sides and square corners and centered doors, with broad interior hallways flanked by office after office. One notable exception has five sides, instead of the normal four, but the architect who designed that was undoubtedly fired shortly after completing the design. How it actually got built is another matter altogether. Aesthetics are not highly valued in most military construction projects, being set aside for utility and ease of construction. Note that most of the old Soviet Union buildings fell into this same tasteless but utilitarian category.

Luck was on my side, in that I soon came upon buildings that had the unmistakable military numbering system prominently displayed on their sides, as I had been seeking. Unfortunately, though, none of the numbers were “22.” I walked up to a building with lights on in the foyer. This generally portends a person “on watch,” no matter what the hour. Many times, people are “on watch” for a good reason. Men with guns walking around fighter airplanes, for instance, have a good reason to be there, since said airplanes are eventually going to be used to stop enemies from killing our military people first, either as a deterrent to prevent them from trying it in the first place, or as a response to their attempts to complete their deadly objective. In either case, though, depriving our military of fighter aircraft is definitely a goal of our enemies, so they need to be guarded closely to make this as difficult as possible.

However, most people who are “on watch,” are doing little more than missing 4 to 5 hours of sleep. Often, these watches are enacted mainly to get military people used to not sleeping, since they often get little sleep when doing their jobs of killing the enemy or preventing the enemy from killing them. This is just a fact of war. We were nominally at peace at the time, so most of the watches were mostly fighting sleep, rather than the enemy, with some exceptions as noted above.

I found an E3 on watch, which mostly consisted of sitting behind a desk placed on the other side of a window facing a foyer that was lighted, and attractive to moths and those of us seeking “Building 22” at odd hours of the night, as well as staying awake. In fact, it is much like the window with the hole in it that one can find in most convenience stores in the bad part of town, although the slot under the window is not always present, and the person is not prone to say, “It has been my pleasure to have been serving you. Please be shopping here regularly,” in a voice like that of the Simpson’s Abu.

“Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find ‘Building 22?’” I asked, seeing that most military people also are to the point, even when trying to stay awake at odd hours.

“Where is that?” asked the on-duty E3, completely unaware of the fact that he was merely rewording my own question. Another note I have not yet made is that aside from being at peace, the military was also somewhat undermanned and liable to take anyone without an active drug addiction into their ranks. Waivers were no doubt available for those with active drug addictions but who were willing to promise not to do drugs for four to six years. As long as the enlistee was not a homosexual, just about any other transgression could be ignored by the use of a waiver. Homosexuals merely had to lie about their sexual orientation until they got in, and found like-minded others already in the military, who had already lied when asked their sexual preferences.

I am not completely certain that having felons in the ranks is preferable to having someone with abnormal sexual preferences, but that was what the military “getting new soldiers system” stated. In the Viet Nam era, this took on a whole new dimension, with civilian judges actively recruiting for the military from their courtrooms with “make a decision: jail or military” sentences, which in itself is another whole story not germane to the present tale, much like this was not germane to the tale where I originally mentioned this flight. I think we’ve come to more digression on my part.

I showed the on-duty, if not perceptive, E3 my orders and asked again if he knew where the target building was located. After a few moments of reflection, or perhaps just a minute or two of disorientation or acid flashbacks, he suggested I walk toward headquarters, and gave me directions that were adequate in regards to getting me to my new target, the headquarters building. I hoped that the person on watch at headquarters had at least two digits in their IQ, as so far, I had not had the opportunity to meet such. I left with silent wishes that the not-so-smart-if-kind-of-helpful E3 was not on duty if and when a real need for military action was required.

Wandering along further toward headquarters, I found myself in what came the closest to a “populated area” that I had yet seen on Sigonella. Not that there were houses or barracks there, but there were quite a few buildings, some street lights, and even a car or two in front of the buildings. It was not hard to pick out the headquarters building, as in front of one of the buildings was an illuminated sign that read, “Sigonella Naval Air Station Headquarters.” As I stated, military systems are simplistic and seldom hard to figure out. Occasionally, they are also efficient, just to keep one guessing. In this case, I think a sign that said, “Headquarters” alone would have been adequate, as it would be quite unusual to have, for instance, the “Ramstein Air Force Base Headquarters” on the Sigonella Naval Base properties.

I went inside the main entrance and immediately came to the person on watch. In this case, my prayers had been answered, and the sailor manning the quarterdeck (that’s what foyers are called in US Navy headquarters buildings) watch had an IQ higher than normal room temperature. Upon asking, and presenting my orders to prove I needed to know the information, I was immediately informed that Building 22 was right next door.

Another short walk and I was at Building 22. This building was apparently the communications center for the base. There was an armed guard on duty, although I was still directed to the person on watch, who was not the armed guard. Marines are used to guard things that actually need guarding, and they are always armed. Communications are probably the only thing in the military that are guarded as fiercely as weapons and armaments. Essentially, communications are used to tell those with the weapons and armaments where to fly or drive, or what to blow up, or who to shoot. Occasionally, we even used communications to tell people not to blow stuff up, but that really happens in the real world a lot less often than in the movies, regardless what Hollywood might think. As another aside, if there are only two seconds left to stop something from blowing up, typically within three seconds there is a large and loud explosion.

Because of the above, these communications sites are guarded with a vigilance similar to the vigilance a mother bear displays with her cubs. However, as ferocious as they can be, mother bears are not normally able to hit a target at a distance, while most marines are extremely capable in the aiming department. Any lack of competence in the aiming department is generally made up by large quantities of ammunition directed toward their targets as well as a marked tenacity in continuing to call for more marines with more ammunition and possibly better marksmanship skills, until the target was rendered “neutralized.” This is the marines’ way of saying, “unable to help the enemy complete his ‘killing us’ objective.” Usually, the neutralized target is neutralized to a sticky goo or something resembling swiss cheese, depending on the armaments and number of marines involved in the neutralization process.

Walking past the marine guard to the person on watch, I presented my orders and the package I was to deliver. The desk-watch person was too low in rank to sign for the package, so I asked to see the Officer of the Day. This person is in charge while the boss is not there. This particular circumstance doesn’t work when it comes to civilian governments - just ask Al Haig who was in charge when Reagan was shot, for details - but it works just fine for military commands. It comes down to the fact that military commands always have someone awake and in charge, while civilians let the guy in charge sleep on occasion. This necessitates someone deciding to wake up the civilian in charge, while the military guy-in-charge is always present and known, even if higher up in-chargers are eventually awakened, similar to the civilian system. Hence, it took not a lot of imagination, intelligence, or experience for me to know to ask for the Officer of the Day.

Presently, a young and shapely female Lieutenant greeted me professionally and cordially. I, too, was professional in not mentioning her youngness nor her shapeliness, although I did mentally note both of them, as I have just related. Thinking something unprofessional, but not saying it is allowed in the military.

Editorial aside: There is even an old joke alluding to this ability to think whatever you want: “Captain, can I get in trouble for thinking you’re an asshole?” The captain replies, “Hmmm. No, I guess you can’t get in trouble for thinking that.” The sailor then says, “That’s good, because I think you’re an asshole.”

But I was in need of some assistance here, so I asked Lieutenant Shapely, after she had signed the custody forms and duly given me my copy, if she could arrange some transportation for me back to the airport in Catania. Of course, being the Officer of the Day at the Communications Center, she was undoubtedly aware of what was happening on the Base, in regards to Abu Nidal and the airliner and the two lines of armed and capable soldiers on either side of the negotiators, but that did not mean that our plight at the civilian airport was also in her realm of knowledge. I therefore related my circumstances and my worries that the flight crew might not be there, and would in all likelihood take their airplane with them when they departed.

Again, as I was on official orders, I was given access to the “duty driver,” who, much like the duty watches, was mainly trying to stay awake, rather than constantly shuttling people around the base. In this case, though, I was more than the casual rider. The driver was going to get the opportunity to leave the base altogether, which made me somewhat of a celebrity. “Doing something” while on watch makes the watch seem to pass more quickly, and “doing something unusual” was even more coveted, as it not only made the watch pass more quickly, but gave the person a story to tell their buddies later, even though most military stories you hear are full of lies and exaggerations.

I could make up something here about how difficult and dangerous the ride to the Catania Airport was, but it wasn’t. The duty driver took me to the airport, and there was but one airliner getting any attention at all. This was my destination airliner, and I boarded it, envelope-less, and continued on to my destination in Israel, which the rest of this tale already related.

About three years later, I met another person who had been present during the encounter at the Sigonella Naval Air Station flight line. He had been inspecting an antenna tower at the time, and had almost-aerial photographs of the two lines of soldiers and two negotiators taken from the airport tower. I never saw the pictures, though he was an honest guy and appeared to be serious, but you know how those military guys lie about stuff just to make it seem more interesting.

Government Thoughts

2007-02-05T14:45:00.000-06:00

What are Government Thoughts?

It's the thought process that allows you to take facts, and come to conclusions that are contra-indicated by those facts.

My first example was to wonder whether a government official would give a condom to a child molester, since he's going to do it anyway.

By the above, I mean to compare this behavior with high school children (and younger) having sex.

Do they not condone the condom distribution to minors on the excuse of "They are going to have sex, anyway. We just want them to be less likely to get pregnant or receive or transmit an STD."

So, would not the same apply to a child molester when you let him out of prison? After all, the recidivism rate is like 90%, so we know they're going to try to have sex with a child. Why not just give them condoms?

I'll tell you why not. We need to protect the children from the assault itself, and all efforts should be committed to that end. Without the assault, the condom is not needed. To use this same logic with high school or younger students, to prevent them from getting pregnant or transmitting an STD, then the best way would be to put all of our efforts toward abstinence. This is the ONLY 100% effective method. No other method can make this statement. Any other advocacy allows a small percentage of our children to become pregnant or get an STD.

Personally, I think our efforts should be toward what is most effective, not most practical.

Red Light Cameras Rake It In Quicker than Red Light Districts

2007-02-05T14:35:00.000-06:00

Red Light Cameras are for SAFETY

The Metropolitan Police Department collected nearly $31 million in fines from its automated speed cameras in 2006 -- the most lucrative year in the program's six-year history.

The program generated $30.9 million last year, exceeding the previous highest annual total of $28.9 million, set in 2005. The record amount increases the program's total collected revenue to more than $125 million.

Yep. Safety. Those aren't Houston numbers.... yet. But that's what Mayor Opie is hoping for, eventually.

I can see all the City Councilm members rubbing their palms and saying, "Egggsellent" a la Mr. Burns of The Simpsons.

Climatologist Tells It Like It Is

2007-02-05T13:55:00.000-06:00

Climatologist Debunks 'Global Warming' Religion

Believe it or not, Global Warming is not due to human contribution of Carbon Dioxide (CO2). This in fact is the greatest deception in the history of science.

I'll say no more, except, "I told you so."

Strange Thought

2007-02-04T08:30:00.001-06:00

Have you ever thought about dressing up like a mime and having someone film you with a hidden camera as you go to a church where no one knows you?

Needless to say, you wouldn't say anything provocative.

UN Report Summary called "Political" by Scientists Who Wrote Report

2007-02-04T07:24:00.000-06:00

Some scientists say the summary of the U.N. climate change report we told you about earlier distorts the actual scientific findings — because of a political agenda. Cybercast News Service cites MIT professor Richard Lindzen — who worked on the last U.N. climate report — as saying the summary is primarily the work of political appointees — not scientists.

Harvard University physicist Lubos Motl says that if an error is found in the summary — the technical report will be "adjusted" for consistency — a practice he calls "scientific misconduct."

And Scientist Christopher Landsea of the National Hurricane Center says he resigned from the U.N. panel because its statements to the media were "far outside current scientific understandings."

The above is the first article on Fox News' Brit Hume's Political Grapeview

Tell me again that the sky is falling, Chicken Little Gore.

Christianity Attacked Again

2007-02-03T15:29:00.000-06:00

Cross Removed to Make Non-Christians Feel Welcome... IN A CHURCH

Please, read the link for details.

I think we should have the crescent moons removed from all outhouses, too, since the mark of Islam offends me.

And while we're at it, brass door handles resemble suns, which are worshipped by some. Let's get rid of those, too.

Ridiculous enough yet? If not, it soon will be self-evident.

Carbon Emissions Tax Threatened by France

2007-02-03T15:20:00.000-06:00

Chirac says US would be forced to Pay

President Jacques Chirac has demanded that the United States sign both the Kyoto climate protocol and a future agreement that will take effect when the Kyoto accord runs out in 2012.

He said that he welcomed last week’s State of the Union address in which President Bush described climate change as a “serious challenge” and acknowledged that a growing number of American politicians now favor emissions cuts.

But he warned that if the United States did not sign the agreements, a carbon tax across Europe on imports from nations that have not signed the Kyoto treaty could be imposed to try to force compliance. The European Union is the largest export market for American goods.

“A carbon tax is inevitable,” Mr. Chirac said. “If it is European, and I believe it will be European, then it will all the same have a certain influence because it means that all the countries that do not accept the minimum obligations will be obliged to pay.”

Fine. Sounds good. As soon as you impose it, we should impose a Freedom Tax. Everyday that France remains free, they have to pay us for bailing their cowardly butts out of TWO invasions (and surrenders).

Reuters: Propaganda, when and where you need it

2007-02-03T08:20:00.000-06:00

Reuters calls this 'news?!'

The death penalty is under what may be an unprecedented review in the United States, mostly involving questions about lethal injection, by far the most common method of execution.

It is?! Tell me more. Who's doing this unprecedented review? The UN? Eurabia? Who?

"Although many of the stays of executions are due to the lethal injection process, the openness of courts, of governors and legislators to reconsider issues that were thought to be settled is a sign of broad discomfort with the death penalty," said Richard Dieter, head of the Death Penalty Information Center, which works against capital punishment.

Oh.. A left-wing political organization must've put out a position paper, and Reuters reports it as news.

I wonder if they'd be forced to point out that the ACLJ was "right wing" if it printed anything from them? You know it. This is the same "news" organization that says they aren't terrorists, even though they intentionally target civilians, they're "freedom fighters," who happen to target girls' schools and grandmothers, right?

Reuters - Can they get more biased?

For Sale: One Governor, $6000 obo Updated

2007-02-02T14:56:00.000-06:00

Slightly used. Leans a bit to the left.

El Perrito pays back his cronies while endangering our daughters

Gov. Rick Perry ordered today that schoolgirls in Texas must be vaccinated against the sexually transmitted virus that causes cervical cancer, making Texas the first state to require the shots.

So that's the "feel good reason." But is it the real reason?

Perry has several ties to Merck and Women in Government. One of the drug company's three lobbyists in Texas is Mike Toomey, his former chief of staff. His current chief of staff's mother-in-law, Texas Republican state Rep. Dianne White Delisi, is a state director for Women in Government.

Toomey was expected to be able to woo conservative legislators concerned about the requirement stepping on parent's rights and about signaling tacit approval of sexual activity to young girls. Delisi, as head of the House public health committee, which likely would have considered legislation filed by a Democratic member, also would have helped ease conservative opposition.

Perry also received $6,000 from Merck's political action committee during his re-election campaign.

So there's the real reason. Political payback.

I am glad my daughter is out of school. I wonder how safe this BRAND NEW vaccine is.

I never buy any product when it is brand new. Windows, Betamax, and pet rocks have taught me that what seems like a good idea at the time may not live up to the promises it portends.

Will Perry sign a waiver that says that if a little girl dies from his MANDATORY MEDICAL TREAMENT, that he'll accept the criminal responsibility? This is worse than Hillary-care.

Still a democrat and big government politician. Everything I read about Perrito's actions shows me that he isn't a republican and is certainly NOT a conservative.

U P D A T E

I'm not the only one worried about unknown side-effects

"Young girls are experiencing severe headaches, dizziness, temporary loss of vision and some girls have lost consciousness during what appear to be seizures," said Vicky Debold, health policy analyst for the National Vaccine Information Center, a nonprofit watchdog organization that was created in the early 1980s to prevent vaccine injuries.

Yep. Good press is worth more than our children's health, right el Perrito?

And to answer other questions I've heard, the same article states:

The vaccine is not effective in men, who can get cancer from other strains of HPV.

The Boston "Bombs"

2007-02-01T21:11:00.002-06:00

I am reading a lot of people saying how the Boston Police over-reacted to the guerilla advertising prank pulled by Turner Broadcasting's Cartoon Network's advertising agency.

Comments such as "It's amazing how they were so paranoid over a box with some LED's on it" are pretty much the norm from these idiots.

I'm going to refute everything the nay-sayers have been saying with a single question:

If the terrorists were going to plant bombs all over Boston, do you think they would make them LOOK like bombs?

Bombs are round and have fuses in video games, not in the real world. A block of C4 with some batteries, some wires, and a timer will blow up a bridge. I can paint it to look like a happy face, but that doesn't make it any less deadly.

Only idiots don't see that the authorities did the right thing. I hope all those responsible for this irresponsible act are jailed, and Turner fined enough to put it out of business, as well as the ad agency, Cartoon Network, and anyone else who can be implicated in this terrorism hoax.

The Texas Property Tax Problem

2007-02-01T20:27:00.000-06:00

Well, Governor Perrito's recent property tax appraisal task force has recently submitted their solution.

Well, one of the things they forgot to do, or did very poorly, was to properly define the problem. This is imperative to a proper solution, so the currently proposed plan fails in almost all respects.

Why do I say this? Well, I like to teach by illustration. Let's say that you are driving, and the car begins to veer to the right. Now, if the task force were in charge of this situation, the response would have been to have the car steered to the left to correct it. However, if the car is veering to the right because you are on ice, and you're actually in a skid, you haven't fixed the problem. In fact, you have now made the problem worse.

So, what did the task force do wrong? They failed to define the problem before making their recommendations. Asking, "What would you do to fix it?" is great, if one happens to know what "it" is. However, all the task force did was listen to folks bitch about their personal anecdotes in regards to the situation. This clarified that there IS a problem with the current system. But the task force never stated what the actual problems are.

I will not try to show how this system impacts people negatively, as the task force did. I will try to show how the system itself is flawed. In addition, I'll show why the 3% appraisal cap isn't the answer.

1. Negative Encouragement. The current system encourages folks to either let their properties decline in maintenance, lowering the property's apparent value, or at least make it appear so. For example, one home owner on my street apparently has decided that letting his property appear to be in disrepair will lower his "fair market value," and therefore his taxes. And you know what? He's right. So, the current scheme discourages property improvements, and actually encourages the opposite. What good is a government policy that encourages property decay?

2. No real basis. Currently, the system forces the appraisers to value the property at "market value," and sets the tax level according to this standard. Anyone who was in Texas in the 1980's remembers plummeting property values. This means I can be taxed on a home "valued" at $XXX,XXX, but if the market bottoms out again, I will most likely not only NOT get that arbitrary value, but it is quite possible I will lose money on the foreclosure as so many tens of thousands did during the oil bust. Will I get a refund of the taxes I paid on these baseless and proveably (at the time of sale) incorrect values from years or decades past? Some folks will say this is a tax on "unrealized capital gains," but I will have no recourse to recover the improperly imposed taxes at the time of sale.

3. Political insulation. This was addressed in the task force report, but not enough so. How many times have we heard politicians proclaim to have "not raised taxes in X years?" Too many to count, certainly. Therefore the stealth tax allows unlimited government growth, with no accountability. I think the phrase "Don't Tread on Me" was originally voiced due to very similar government unaccountability.

4. No checks and balances. The government can arbitrarily set your tax base at any level they desire. Even the protest process, though greatly improved in Harris County, is greatly flawed. The only recourse for the citizen who is not happy with the ARB result is a lawsuit, which is costly to the individual but not proportionately so for the taxing entity. Individuals who can afford to go to this level have already paid lawyers to present their cases beforehand, which tells the Arbitration Review Board that "We can let this one pay less, and make it up on the sheep who can't fight back." Those of us who represent ourselves most likely don't have the resources to endure a long legal battle, and are therefore easy prey.

5. Good Ol' Boy manipulation. How many City, County, and Schoolboard members have had little or no increase in years? We all remember that pretty much all of the Galveston City Council (iirc; it might've been Friendswood) had been completely bypassed in property value increases while their neighbors had been getting proverbially skewered by the rising taxes. The really evil part of this is that those unfairly targeted have absolutely ZERO recourse to this manipulation and cronyism. This encourages the graft that has already been proven to occur.
______________

Right now, the 3% appraisal cap method of fixing the problem doesn't do it at all. What the opposition is doing is letting the property values rise to such high levels, that the 3% cap will be meaningless when it is finally pushed through. Think about it. If I can triple your taxable value by raising it by 10% at a time for about 10 years (and it's already been going on for about 6), then after that, I can raise the value by 3% a year thereafter, getting the same constant-dollar increase every year that I used to need 10% to get.

So, the opposition need only prevent this cap for three or four more years, and the robbing of the tax payer is a fait accompli. This is their current plan, I believe, and it is a solid, workable plan. As things sit right now, it is probably going to be successful, as well.

The ONLY fair system I can see is to tax a house on its value at purchase. This was the value the homeowner agreed to when he bought the place, so he cannot reasonably argue that it is not a fair value.

The possibility of a tax on value increase at the time of sale (realized capital gains), is also not out of the question.

There may be perhaps another solution to this problem, but nothing occurs to me at this time. The problem with the current attempts is that they will fail because they don't address the problem, but they address the symptoms of the problem, and the effects of its presence, rather than the problem itself.

The task force should not have proposed the 1/2 cent sales tax increase. Doing so had nothing to do with the problems with the property tax appraisal problem. They were tasked to find a solution to the problem. The 1/2 cent tax increase is a solution to "foreseen" revenue problems that are nothing more than speculation.

Bush II is a wimp

2007-01-29T18:15:00.000-06:00

I have been one of the most ardent supporters of our Iraq actions. I won't go into it now, but I still believe this is the right place to be, and the right way to go about it... to a point.

But this is too effing much.

Dubya has lost his way

Here's the money quote:

President Bush said Monday the United States "will respond firmly" if Iran escalates military action in Iraq and endangers American forces. But Bush emphasized he has no intention of invading Iran.

OK, you asshole, here's the real way the world works:

If Iran kills ONE of our boys intentionally, I don't care if you nuke Tehran to glass.

If ANYONE in the world complains, tell them you will kill one of their children, and announce to the world, "This is what Iran did to us. If you agree that they were justified, then we're justified in what we will do. Either back off, or watch your children die. I will NOT let our children die, nor will I let those of our allies die."

"If you don't like it, too bad."

If we ever get a man as president again, I hope this is the way he acts.

People seem to forget that WE are the wronged party here. Absolutely anything we do is justified, as self-defense. Iran would back off if I were elected president, one way or the other.

I'm tired of this stuff. As my dad would say, "Either shit or get off the pot."

Enough is enough.

Please excuse the profanity. Sometimes, this is necessary to make the passion of one's belief's understood.

No More Advance Copies for Anyone

2007-01-24T17:21:00.000-06:00

Matt Drudge Publishes Text Early

As is customary, the advance text of the president's speech was delivered to major news organizations at 8:21 p.m. last night with the instructions, "EMBARGOED – this cannot be used until delivery at 9:01:30PM EDT." But within minutes, Matt Drudge posted the full text on his popular news Web site "The Drudge Report."

Next speech, were I president, NO ONE would get an advance copy.

It is not known how Drudge obtained his advance copy of the State of the Union address last night, but "embargoed" copies of the president's speeches are distributed to a list of several hundred in addition to the White House Press Corps.

Earlier this month, Drudge also broke the embargo on the president's Iraq War speech.

"Sorry, you gave your word. One of you broke it. It was customary and optional. The White House will no longer be providing copies before the speech is given. Please go to (website) to sign up on our email list, for emails that start going out upon completion of the speech."

That would be my answer to it.

This is good news?

2007-01-24T11:45:00.000-06:00

Those who lived were less likely to be robbed

The city's overall crime rate fell more than 5 percent last year compared with 2005, despite a well-publicized spike in homicides, statistics released today show.

Houston police reported declines from 3 percent to 8 percent in the rates per 100,000 population of serious crimes including rape, robbery, aggravated assault, burglary, theft and auto theft.

Overall, factoring in increased population including hurricane evacuees, the crime rate per 100,000 residents was down 5.7 percent.

The homicide rate, however, increased about 5 percent.

So, although you were about 10% more likely to be killed, if you survived, you were less likely to be robbed.

That probably doesn't make the relatives of those who were killed any happier, I'm thinking. How about we go for a decrease in murder, too, Mayor Opie?

A Perilous Tale - The Return

2007-01-23T20:58:00.001-06:00

The following is the third installment of A Perilous Tale, a 100% true story, except the parts that are completely fabricated. Please see the first two installments before reading this.

In the Radio Room aboard the vessel, I meet one of the radiomen on the Tug Ship. After a short explanation, and the required form, because nothing happens in the Navy without a form, he picks up a red handset. This denotes a secure voice link. The neat thing is that you get to hear a sound very similar to a modem signal while it links up. If the cryptographic equipment stops working, then the sound never stops. It's like 1994 AOL times one hundred.

Now, as I mentioned earlier, the military has a system for just about everything. The "talk on the radio" system consisted of: 1. Say who you're trying to talk to. 2. Say who you are. 3. Say what you want to say. 4. Say "over" when you're done. 5. When you want to hang up, say "Out."

The conversation went something like what follows:

"Nimitz flight deck control. Nimitz flight deck control, this is the Tug Ship, Over."

"Tug Ship, this is Chester's Airport, over."

"Nimitz, Tug Ship. We have one pax for outbound. Got any transport?"

"Roger that, Tug ship, this is Nimitz Flight Control. We got a COD on deck. You got one half hour, that's three-zero minutes, to get here if you want a ride, over."

"Copy that fivers, Nimitz. Tug Ship out."

One thing about military communications, they are quick and effective.

For a translation, we find that the USS Chester W. Nimitz, CVN-68, is in the neighborhood, and has a COD (Carrier Onboard Delivery) on deck ready to go. If I can get there in 30 minutes, I can get on my way immediately.

Well, there's no asking twice in the Navy, so I grabbed my stuff, and waited while the radio operator got my transportation to the Nimitz arranged. I got to do one of the neatest things I've ever gotten to do in my entire life. I got to ride up to the helicopter via Hi-Line. Now, folks who get to do this after being rescued from a sinking ship probably don't appreciate the view or the ride itself as much as I did. Anyway, there's nowhere to land on a Tug Ship, so they have to pick up people without landing. Hi-line transfer is about the easiest way to accomplish this. They just sling a padded rope around you and tell you to hold on, and up you go. It's like a ride at Disneyland, but without the long snaking line, annoying teenagers, high prices, and the song "It's a Small World After All" that even just my mentioning it here in my blog brings back the painful memories of hearing it in your head for up to 6 weeks after first being introduced to it.

It should be out of your head before you wake up tomorrow, assuming you can get to sleep tonight with it still going in your head.

We fly across water to the Nimitz, so there isn't a lot to tell. If you've been in a helicopter flying over water, you know that there isn't anything to see. If you've never flown in a helicopter, the best way I can describe it is to compare it to something similar you may be familiar with. What comes to mind is those exercise belts that gyms had in the 1960's, and may still have today. The one where they pull this canvas strap across your back, then turn it on, and vibrate/jiggle yourself with the belt. I have never understood how that is supposed to help you lose weight. If stuff like that really worked, more people would've bought Yugos, just for the weight loss caused by the vibration.

Eventually, but well within the 30 minute window, the Nimitz comes into view. As we approach the flight deck, I can see a COD to the side, with people working around it. Hallelujah! You see, being told something is there in the military, is no guarantee that it is there. But there it was! I was on my way home!

The helicopter lands, and I hop out, carrying my own stuff. I turn and head toward the COD, but I'm stopped by the arm. Some guy who obviously works on the flight deck has grabbed my arm to prevent me from approaching the COD, and points toward a ladder down to a catwalk along the side. Not wanting to leave my arm with the guy who had grabbed it, I head toward the ladder , knowing that the Borg have nothing over the US Military when it comes to futile resistance. Besides, there is a remote possibility that you might get away with it, with the Borg. Not so, with the military - not only is resistance futile, it's also dangerous, pointless, and time-consuming, and possibly life-threatening.

I went to the indicated catwalk and was further herded toward an office. I walk into a cramped office with its walls covered with hand-drawn cartoons that used to come via the 1980 version of email, the "fax machine." The first one to catch my eye had a picture of a pimply-faced kid wearing a paper hat. Its caption read, "This Ain't Burger King. You Don't Have It Your Way. You Have It My Way, Or You Don't Get The Sonuvabitch At All."

Such was my introduction to the USS Chester W. Nimitz, and I can only say that it went downhill from there.

I was then given two bedsheets that may or may not have been white upon their issuance. Right now they most resembled the psychiatrist's props for his Rorschach tests. My gestalt was that it looked most like a butterfly after hitting a windshield on I-10. I was told to sleep in bunk (something-or-other) in the "transient personnel quarters."

Transient Personnel Quarters is a euphemism for the vilest spot on an aircraft carrier. Given that the bilge is pretty much a collection of a majority of the refuse and excrement that didn't make itself overboard when it was desired that the refuse actually go overboard (for the interest of the environmental crowd, this is one of the lies I warned you about it. They have special equipment to process the sewage on most, if not all, US Military ships. For the non-environmental crowd, that previous statement to the envirusmentalists is one of the lies I warned you about).

So, to give you a true feeling for what "transient personnel quarters" looks like on the USS Nimitz, or at least looked like at the time, picture a mattress on CSI. The mattress has been retrieved from a hotel that advertises hourly rates, and charges extra for clean bed linens. Picture viewing it with one of those lights that shows bodily fluids even decades after said bodily fluids have been deposited.

Before going to the hourly hotel before being further sent on to the Transient Personnel Quarters on the Nimitz, the mattress has been in a fraternity house on the UT campus for two decades. The CSI light goes out, but the stains it showed still remain, albeit now not glowing green, red, or blue, depending on which CSI is using the light.

Now, imagine having a mattress that you trade FOR the mattress I mentioned above, since the one above looks better and is probably cleaner.

THAT is the mattress in the transient personnel quarters that I was asked to place my body upon, for rest. The TPQ are accessible by nearly anyone, and a ship of 5 to six thousand men (no women onboard combat vessels, in those days), whose median age is about 19.3, and who are released in towns that are set up for quick booze, fast women, and loud music after 3 to 5 months of riding around throwing and catching airplanes can do some awful things to a mattress upon their return to their jobs and bunks. The mattresses in the TPQ are fair game for anyone who can swap their soiled mattress for any that look better than it in the TPQ. I got assigned what was left in trade.

A little known fact is that most Transient Personnel Quarters on larger US Naval vessels are on the EPA's "Superfund Clean-up List."

Anyway, there was no way I was going to even consider sleeping in that biohazard. I returned the bedsheets and started to wander around the ship.

Now, this is going to sound strange to you, but you can wander around a Navy Ship just about anywhere at all, and for as long as you like, provided you don't actually work anywhere. I went fore to aft, up the superstructure, across the hanger decks, and down to the ship's store. Amazingly, the only place I had any problems whatsoever, was at the ship's store. They made me wait in line, there. There wasn't much to buy, but there were plenty of people there not to buy it. They had pre-recorded cassette tapes. Those are MP3's, before we had computers. They had books. They had crackers and sardines. They had toiletries. Pretty much, take away the gas pumps and the guy named "Hajima" who runs the place, and it wasn't much different from a Stop 'n Go in Houston.

When we started into port, I made my way to the pilot house and watched the proceedings. It isn't often that one gets to see a dead cow floating in a canal, but I am now in that small group of people who can no longer claim to be dead-cow-seeing deficient. I was thinking something about Hindu's and their worship of cows, trying to work out why no one had dragged the cow to shore, when I realized Alexandria is not a Hindu country, and just chalked this up to their lack of hygiene and sense. I was to find, later in life, that I had hit the proverbial bullseye in my estimation of their sloth and filth.

Anyway, I managed to pass the night, get some food, play some basketball, and then find a nice naughahyde couch with some intact hyde, but severely lacerated naughas, peeling back the hyde to reveal the canvas backing down below. This couch was situated in a little-used passageway, in an alcove, and had a TV that didn't work bolted to the wall. The reason I knew the TV didn't work is that it had a piece of paper taped to it. Said paper read, "TV BROkED." You may not know this but there is a rule in the US Navy that says every sign that is temporary must have at least one misspelling or one major grammatical error. I think only 1 in four professionally printed signs must be similarly flawed.

Regardless of its condition consisting of its TV not working, the corridor lounge was a pretty good place to catch some shut eye, especially if you wanted to get some sleep laying somewhere that didn't look like a used Petrie Dish or the bottom of the refrigerator produce draw in a fraternity house kitchen in College Station, Texas. There was a brief period when I was awakened by the dog watch coming on station and the mid watch retiring, but that passed easily until I was awakened by the morning breakfast rush.

The US Navy likes to use colorful metaphors, as Star Trek's Mr. Spock might say, and this means not just their four-lettered vocabulary, but their jargon, as well. "Dog watch" means the watch that runs from 4:00 a.m. until 8:00 a.m., except you get there 15 minutes early, as a courtesy, but one that you never omit. So, it really starts at 3:45 a.m. And since breakfast closes at 7:30, the morning watch comes on at 7:15, but doesn't get relieved until 11:45 a.m., when his relief comes on 15 early, so everyone is back on schedule. Every US Navy Command, at any time, on any vessel worked this way.

Breakfast is about the only meal one can regularly eat on US Navy Ships, because it is so hard to ruin consistently. Of course, many cooks still manage to mangle it fairly often. A little hunting found me a mess deck (there are about 50 of them on a carrier, by my wildly inaccurate count) where the eggs were cooked reasonably well and the bacon was somewhat more than medium rare without resembling a shoe horn. Remembering the three mess deck rules, I didn't have much of a problem.

Eventually, the Nimitz pulled in to port, with much of the ship's crew eagerly anticipating her arrival ashore, possibly as eagerly as many of the more avaricious and well-rested prostitutes ashore were likewise anticipating their impending windfall due to the Nimitz's arrival, I'm sure. I didn't even try to get off the ship during the first few waves of sailors going ashore. I have learned that it takes a brave man to get between a 19 year old with three months' worth of pay, a condom, and a pass saying he has to be back before 10:00 pm, and his transportation.

Unlike my boarding of the Tug Ship - which required nothing more than me walking up the brow onto the quarterdeck - the Nimitz required that one go ashore in a liberty boat. These boats just shuttle back and forth to shore, carrying the crew in groups of XX. Each boat carries from 40 to 75 sailors with fat wallets, slim chances of getting laid, and short fuses when they find this out. The first wave of moneied, horny, frustrated sailors is always the worst, so it is better to bide one's time and just find something to do, like watch a broken - I mean "BROked" - TV, for the first 4 to 6 hours after liberty is announced.

When the liberty lines thinned considerably, I went ashore and took a taxi to the local US Consulate. Now, Alexandria, Egypt is a nice place. There are museums and markets and bars and new and ancient sights. On this trip, though, I would not have a chance to see any of that. I was going to get on the first plane available and make my way home.

Or, at least that was my initial plan.

So, I met my American Embassy guide who spoke english as well as anyone I have ever met and was dressed in such a way as I don't remember it now, but he looked as Egyptian as any stereotype you would imagine. However, if your stereotype put flowing robes and a head dress on him, you'd be wrong. No more than 1 in 20 wears that in public in Egypt, but it is not unseen.

Mostly, the Egyptians just want you to do anything at all that brings dollars their way. At the time, they preferred dollars, so you could get premium goods at wholesale prices if you didn't change money to whatever they call their money in Egypt.

Of course, I got no chance to experience any of that in this instance, because the Embassy escort took me straight to the airport. Man! This was going to be great. I was going to be home in just a few hours! Joy!

We walked outside the Embassy, and past a row of very nice Mercedes Sedans and some GM Pimp Mobiles, all in immaculate condition, with hardly even any dust on the windows, whose lack thereof was somewhat suspicious in itself, as Egypt's major industry seemed to be dust production, dust aeration, and dust testing. We continued past these cars to a 1970's vintage indescribable-yellow Volvo Station Wagon, complete with some of the rubber insert hanging from the front bumper, resembling the end of a hand-me-down belt worn by a 1950's younger brother pulled tight with two extra holes added for him to grow into, flapping with any movement or slight breeze. The rear was filled with some kind of document boxes, one slightly askew showing that it contained items made from cloth, as well as some file folders, all covered with an old blanket hastily and sloppily thrown across them, as if to hide their contents.

The car was somewhat dusty, for which I was thankful, and the interior was somewhat comfortable, if just a little worn. I settled in, and searched for my seat belt, only to find that such options were not requested with this particular model, or had been removed for some other reason. What other reason, I could not imagine, so, instead, went with the "optional equipment" rationalization, and sat back to enjoy the ride.

We parked out front of the airport and walked past a guard who was just standing there with a machine gun slung over his shoulder. I have no idea what kind of gun it was, but by process of elimination, I believe it was an AK-47. However, there was no interaction between us as we walked into the airport terminal, which, when it comes to me and armed guards, that's just fine, although I was certain that I would not contribute to any friction between myself and the guard, as I have an iron-clad rule that says, "Do what the man with the gun says to do." This rule has served me well through the years. Of course, that rule is trumped by the "Guy who has the bigger gun or the drop automatically wins otherwise equal contests."

Confidently, I walked up to the counter with my Egyptian-guide-from-the-American-Embassy. All I needed to do was flash my credit card, and I was on the airplane and home in just a few hours. Smooooooooth travel.

The ticket drone took down my information and typed into his terminal, which was more like a typewriter than today's modern video-screen units, and waited for a print out, all of which was done with me seeing none of what he typed. Eventually, he verified my name and destination, and asked for my passport.

I presented my brand new passport, complete with the unusual paragraph saying it was issued for official travel.

He flipped it open and noted that it had but one stamp. An Israeli entry visa - transit - good for five days - issued more than 7 days prior. No Israeli exit visa. And no Egyptian entry visa.

Needless to say, his curiosity was piqued. He glanced at the paragraph stamped in the front. "Official Travel" probably caught his eye.

My escort and I could tell that something was amiss, so he asked something in whatever language they speak in Egypt. If they wanted dollars, they spoke english, but if they wanted to know if your passport was legitimate, they asked in Egyptiarabifarsilatin.

Well, the no-longer-so-dronelike ticket agent looked at me and said, "Israel - in. No out. Egypt, no in. You here."

Oh! Such a simple matter. I realized what the problem was, and being the ever inventive and amiable guy that I am, I had a solution.

"Mr. Embassy Guy, please tell Mr. Agitated Ticket Guy that I am on US Military Orders. Here. It is Official Travel." I hoped they could hear the way I capitalized "Official Travel" when I said it. I held my travel orders out to the American Embassy guy, who dutifully glanced at them and handed them to the ticket agent, no doubt hoping that my American Arrogance would get us through this mess. Note that Embassy guys are expert at letting others do the work, hence their vocational choice, government service.

Well, Mr. Getting-Quite-Excited-Ticket-Guy took a look at my orders, and appeared to study them intensely. Now, Government orders (note the capital "G") are a mass of boxes and short one or two word answers typed in the boxes, but Mr. Ticket was more than able to wade his way through it.

In no time, he looked up and asked, "'Courier Duty.' What you carry? Who you get it from? Who you give it to?"

He continued, "Joint Forces Exercise? What you do? Who you do it with?" Some of this was presented with the furrow-browed US Embassy guy's translation assistance.

I looked at him, and said, "I can't answer any of those questions." In that instant, while those words were automatically coming from my lips, bypassing the part of the brain that is supposed to consider consequences of refusing to comply with some official request in a foreign country with a questionable passport and incriminating orders, in that instant, I realized I was probably into a situation that would be better avoided, given the choice.

However, at this point, my choice choosing time had passed me by without even the courtesy of a "How-dee-do," leaving me at an airport counter with He's-Bigger-than-I-Realized-and-Still-Agitated Ticket Guy and a US Embassy guy who probably wishes he hadn't wanted an afternoon drive away from the office when asked, earlier today.

Mr. Ticket picked up his telephone handset and started to dial some numbers. Mr. Embassy reached down and scooped up all the papers and quickly turned for the door, slowing me considerably in my desire to be outside.

Well, do you remember the guy with the machine gun and my rule? Well, it was invoked at this point. Mr. Embassy and I, faced with a guy wielding a machine gun in our specific direction, decided it was best to turn and consider the flight reservations further.

Apparently, there is something about being in Egypt, having carried something so important that you made note that you carried it, and having been in Israel, working with someone who wasn't American... there is something about all of these INNOCENT details that tends to put the Egyptian Security Forces on edge. These are dangerous men. A few years after the incident I am now relating had occurred, Anwar Sadat was killed by these very same forces. I wouldn't be surprised if it were my ticket agent that took out Mr. Sadat, himself.

So, Mr. Embassy and I are ushered together into one of those airport rooms behind the push-button-lock doors that don't go outside to the airplanes. We passed a lot of offices with a lot of stuff that didn't look remarkable in any way whatsoever. Just offices.

Then we walked into another office and sat down. The office was remarkable only in the fact that we walked into it and sat down. It was, in all other respects an office. It had several desks and chairs, some calendars, a cork bulletin board with a bunch of notes pinned to it, and pictures of ugly people who can only be the families of the men who normally occupy these desks, but which were now mostly empty. Mr. Embassy seemed to know what he was doing, and I was more than willing to let him do it. I can tell when things aren't going right. Nope. I have a keen grasp of the obvious.

Mr. Embassy was so smooth, I should change his nickname, but I won't. He started out, showing his passport, "I was escorting this gentleman on official duty for the United States Ambassador to Egypt."

It was a valiant attempt at our defense, but I could see that Mr. Got-You-Now Ticket Guy was not convinced, but I thought I noticed a slight waver when he looked my way. I decided to dredge up my acting talent from my high school days. I had been Helen Keller's father in "The Miracle Worker," the male lead. When the drama teacher is a lesbian, she is prone to picking plays that have two female leads ahead of the male lead, but, again, I digress.

I stood up to my full height, which, had you met me or read the story about the Christmas Lights, you would know is not inconsequential. I am about average height for a Texan, riding a horse. Think of Herman Munster, without the flat head, green tint, or neck bolts, and cross him with Jeff Goldblum. That's pretty much what I look like. Well, I used my height to my advantage as I tend to loom when I need to. That, and my immense acting talent, attained from weeks of rehearsals for the one play I ever tried out for, left me in good standing.

I loomed, and reached confidently toward the desk, scooping up the papers in a single swoop, "Mr. Sinbad, please take me back to the Embassy. I will tell the Ambassador that we were stopped by these oafs."

Luckily, "oaf" is not often taught in the American University in Cairo's English 101 classes, and Mr. Ticket had not gotten much past that part of his studies, so my imposing height and voice did the trick. Mr. Embassy, not one to let a good thing pass, spoke a few last words to the official as I purposely strode to the door, slowing as we approached to let Mr. Embassy open it for me.

This was inspired genius on our part. The two of us fed off the other, until I was practically the Ambassador himself, as Mr. Embassy kowtowed and bowed to me as we made our way back outside. Apparently, haughty Americans with obsequious locals is not very unusual in Alexandria's Airport, so we raised not so much as an eyebrow as we made our escape.

We hurried back out to the Volvo Station Wagon that served as our transport - Egyptian vehicles being quite varied in make and manufacture - and raced away from the airport. About ten minutes later, we stopped at a bar and had a couple of beers. Mr. Embassy made his excuses and headed over to the telephone on the wall. "Payphones" are what we used to call cellular phones that were wired to posts or boxes and were "pay as you go."

Apparently, on the phone, Mr. Embassy made alternate arrangements. We had a couple of beers, as I mentioned earlier, but these were two more than the previous two I had mentioned, which also happened to suit the "almost got carried away to an Egyptian Prison" mood I was in.

He drove me out of town, and quite a ways out into the countryside which has a lot of nothing, once you get out far enough outside the city limits. Eventually, we passed through an open gate in a large chain link fence. This was the only such fence I saw. It sagged in places, and was even covered by sand dunes in others, but it still appeared to be a sufficient barrier, sans locked gate, to keep people out.

We drove along a two-rut dirt road. The ride wasn't too bad, nor too long. We crossed a low rise. Rises are not that rare in "flat lands." You often find them as you go, some of them being large enough to hide whatever is on the far side. Flat lands are far from flat. They call the "flat lands," regardless, since "low-rises-and-drops-lands" takes a long time to say or write. We eventually crossed over such runnels until I could see an air strip, maybe a half of a mile long, more or less. On one end sat an airplane that was painted flat black. At least, I think it was an airstrip, or had been, at one time. I couldn't help but notice it was either made out of dirt, or very cleverly disguised so that one would think it was made out of dirt, if seen from any distance whatsoever. I chose to believe the latter, regardless what logic would counter indicate.

We drove up to the plane, and I looked up into its cargo hold as we came to a stop. It held two cargo baskets about 2 feet tall and 6 feet square, covered in tarps. There were several men about, in small groups, mostly, looking our way. Having been in "wait mode" myself, I recognized the universal look of "something's happening," in their eyes. I had become "something different" just by driving up. Apparently, those who routinely fly flat black airplanes taking off from abandoned dirt airstrips without control towers are apt to take interest in people driving up out of nowhere in yellow Volvo station wagons.

I got out and grabbed my stuff. The crew chief came up and briefed me on the plane, even telling me its model, like I really cared at this point. I just wanted out of Egypt without becoming "Abdul's little friend, Alladin." These guys were all in uniform, and on closer look, you could make out US insignia on the plane, but like they were only in relief, as if the plane had had the markings, but had been painted over.

I threw my stuff in the likely pile of other personal-looking stuff, and made my way over to one of the groups. All of these guys had a little trident insignia on their uniforms, which told me that I now knew enough to know that I didn't want to know any more.

We sat around telling jokes and smoking cigarettes, although, at that time, I had not yet taken up the habit, which I've since given up again, so I didn't actually smoke, while they did. We sat around not asking each other about what we were doing there, or anything else that might identify us in any manner whatsoever. Their disinterest in my appearance only exceeded by the pointed way in which none of us spoke of any of it.

Eventually, the sun went down, and we got into our "loud, cold plane" gear and got on board. I slipped the cloth-covered lifevest over my shirt, and a helmet with "mickey mouse" ears built in to it, and made my way over to a sling along the wall. I don't know if this was my first time to ride in such sling seats, but it isn't difficult. You just turn your back on them, grab the strap, and flop-sit-lean your way into them. I must've been a natural at it.

We heard the engines come to life, and in spite of the Mickey Mouse ears, realized that sound-suppression systems were extra costs that were not incurred for this model of airplane, which I still don't know or care about, to this day. We taxied down the runway and rotated into the air.

My escape was complete.

So, take my advice, if you innocently find yourself in a foreign country with no entry visa into it, and no exit visa out of the previous country, and official orders saying you were carrying something important enough that it was noted in your official orders, well, just tell the travel folks all that up front, to avoid unnecessary detours.

As you can see, though, it was a completely innocent and harmless incident that didn't need all the folderol that they almost gave it.

Credit Where Credit is Due

2007-01-23T11:34:00.000-06:00

Governor Perry to Send More Natl Guard to Border

As anyone who has read my 'blog can attest, I am the first to point out when Perry does something wrong. Well, let it not be said that I don't give credit where it is due. Perry has asked for $100 Million from the Legislature to support this effort.

I think that the border can be considered an emergency, and thus we can let go of some of that $14 Billion (thousand-million for those of you across the pond) that the State has confiscated from the tax payers, and is not allowed to spend due to that danged ol' Texas Constitution. Anyway, emergencies are OK for exceeding the spending limits, and I think that more troops on the border is a great way to spend it.

My only question is, "Why stop at only 600 more?"

Of course, someone has to be against it...

Brownsville Police Chief Carlos Garcia said he is holding off on participating in the operation because the objectives are unclear.

"The goals and the objectives of the operation have not been clearly defined to me other than it's a homeland security issue or possibly immigration issues, and I am not comfortable with enforcing an immigration issue," he said.

Garcia said he also wasn't comfortable applying for wage reimbursements to foot the bill, not knowing the limit on available funding, which is typically known for such operations.

"Having said that, what are we actually going to be doing other than putting officers out on the street, incurring overtime with no special goals in mind other than what we want them to do?"

Tell me again that Perry is a Conservative

2007-01-11T21:22:00.000-06:00

The Lege needs to flex some muscle. I bet it doesn't happen.

Perry: Continue to Subsidize Illegals

Gov. Rick Perry said today he will oppose efforts to repeal a law, which he signed six years ago, giving tuition breaks to undocumented immigrants attending state universities.

``I'm for leaving the law like it is because I think it serves a good purpose,'' he said.

That knife is really starting to hurt my back.

Tell me again how bad Kinky Friedman would have been.

He even lies during the article:

"The only way that you can be eligible for that in-state tuition is if you are in the process of getting your citizenship. If you're not in the queue, working towards getting your citizenship, you're not eligible for it," Perry said.

((**** SNIP ****))

However, under the law, students do not have to actually have applied for citizenship - they only have to promise that they will.

It's a Start

2007-01-10T23:17:00.000-06:00

Fifty-three down, 11,999,947 to go.

"It is a serious federal crime to hijack and steal a citizen's good name and credit to illegally stay in the United States," said U.S. Attorney Richard B. Roper. "These federal indictments demonstrate federal law enforcement's commitment to address rampant identity theft and immigration fraud."

Besides the Social Security count, most of the 53 defendants were also charged with aggravated identity theft, having fraudulent immigration documents, and false representation of U.S. citizenship, authorities said. Those charges carry maximum sentences ranging up to 10 years in prison plus fines.

Seven people were charged with re-entering the country after deportation, and two were charged with aggravated felon re-entry, which carries a sentence of up to 20 years in prison.

You gotta start somewhere. I know I'd go to jail if I lied on my income taxes. Why shouldn't they. Because they're here illegally?

Some Observations

2007-01-10T18:03:00.000-06:00

I really try to look at and listen to the world around me. At least, I do when I'm not talking.

Here are a few things I've seen and internally remarked upon:

The more money you make for the less work you do, the more likely you are to be a democrat. See moviestars, lawyers, union members, and university students (and professors) still being supported by their parents.

Women are less prone to let you into heavy traffic than men. I pointed this out to my daughter, and told her to try to do her part to reverse the trend. If I were wrong, my daughter had 5 or more teen years to prove it to me.

If the parents are paying attention or the kid is determined even without attendant parents, a good education is still possible in all public schools, but in some schools it's easier to fail than in others.

Money is like air: If you have enough, more doesn't really do anything for you. This means you either need to make more, or want less, for an equal level of comfort.

Doing it right in the first place is worth a little extra time and care.

If you're doing it, you should do it to the best of your ability, regardless of its importance.

Food is mainly for energy, but good tasting food works just as well as bad tasting food, so it might as well taste as good as you can make it.

Making it from scratch is worth it with food, but not with almost anything else.

I have two ears and one mouth. My mouth is still winning, hands down, even at those odds.

Having fun while doing it doesn't typically cost any more time or money than doing it as if it were drudgery.

Car dings are inevitable.

Jimmy Stewart is a better actor than Tom Hanks.

Cussing more doesn't make you funnier.

Intelligence, ability, and education are all separate items, but the more you have of any or all of them, the better.

If I need help, give me someone who's willing but not able, rather than someone who's able but not willing.

Even if it doesn't come back around, you ought to send good stuff around, anyway.

Learning you're a crook is worth at least as much as you stole from me or cheated me out of.

Dogs are happy when you get home. Cats get happy when they get fed.

Fish aren't pets; they're furniture that demands attention.

Sometimes, the best thing to do is just sleep. Sometimes, it doesn't matter what the best thing to do is. Sometimes, there isn't a best thing to do.

Time to Update my CV

2007-01-09T10:05:00.000-06:00

I was just called into a non-announced meeting. My boss' boss told us that he is being transferred to another department. He tried to put a good face on it, but I have just been around too long, and have gotten too good at reading between the lines.

The company has decided to "change the focus" of the department I am in. I teach automation and control systems and the equipment that have been automated and controlled. I work for an oilfield manufacturing company; one of the largest, if not the largest in the industry. My job is to get customers and service men and engineers up to speed on our equipment so they can do their jobs.

Well, the company has decided we aren't doing it right, have arbitrarily brought in a new guy from outside, and have "changed focus."

This means, most likely, that many folks in my department, possibly me included, will be out of work within two years. Maybe sooner, depending on how much pressure is brought to bare on the new boss.

Most likely, I'm going to be independent again soon. This will mean fewer blog posts, but I'll let folks know before I disappear indefinitely. I guess I need to get that business plan going sooner than I had thought.

Change is usually good, in the long term. So, I'll just sit back and see where this ride is going.

A Perilous Tale - The Omission

2007-01-07T21:42:00.000-06:00

The Return Trip will begin after the following insertion. I forgot to relate something that has a slight bearing on the outcome of my travails. As I said in the initial installment, this really is a 100% true story, except the parts I lie about.

This story amends the previous installment, A Perilous Tale - The Beginning. Please read that before reading this installment.

************

I realize I have omitted something in the previous explanation "The Beginning", so must slightly digress, but will skip forward in time again, when finished. I may go back and make slight changes to the first part to make this correction there, eventually. I probably won't, though, since I'm fundamentally lazy, but I'm able to live with it.

To get from Ben Gurion Airport, which is in Tel Aviv, to the proper dock containing the Military Equivalent of a Tug Boat, which is in Haifa, I needed some help. Well, in comes the United States Department of State. Why they call it the "Department of State" when its main purpose is to be a part of the United States outside the boundaries of the States, I have never quite understood. Why didn't they call it "Department of Outside the States," instead?

You see, because the French had gotten the Israelis involved, because of our need to be in International Waters to not blow up part of someone else's country without telling them about it - that's yet another one of those secret things that goes back to the ultimate objective of not being made dead first by the enemy - this had gotten the attention of the "Government." Henceforth, I'll just write that word with a capital letter - thusly: Government). A Government is not just a classification of the type of system set up to basically keep guys with swords and horses from plundering. No. It is a living entity with millions of tentacles that reach into any crack or crevice it can find, and grabs ahold, working to make the crack or crevice larger, until all opposition is destroyed.

But I digress.

The Government was now tasked with helping me. Please see the third biggest lie in a previous post to see what this portends.

I was met at the airport by a guy with a dark-colored shirt and tie and a light-colored jacket and white pants. Even being a young military man forced to wear uniforms and get "haircut system" regulation haircuts, I knew bad fashion when I saw it. I think this is part of the training for State Department jobs. Just see any picture of Mdm. Albright for proof. I knew he was the right person, in spite of his ability to disprove the theory that one must open one's mouth to prove one is an idiot, because he carried a sign with "Wino" written across the front in large, black letters.

We met and shook hands, and he said his name was "I have such a thick accent that even someone who tries to listen can't understand me," and I told him, as his sign probably had already foretold, my name was, indeed, "Wino." Such cordial introductions are commonplace at airports. Generally, in Tel Aviv, though, folks typically conduct the handshake with the right hand, while simultaneously giving a quick, professional pat down with the left hand, no doubt looking for strap-on C4 and various other volatile substances or other devices of greeting that their neighbors had taken to wearing.

Either that, or he copped a quick feel. I just find it hard to believe that anyone can have such poor fashion sense and still be gay. That would be like working for CBS, but being conservative! You just can't get any more outrageous than that. Perhaps he was studying for his priesthood, and I was still young enough to not have to shave every day. There are some things people just never will know.

Well, the most expedient way to get one from Tel Aviv to Haifa is to drive. Israel is not a large country. I am fairly certain it takes at least two laps around its perimeter to equal the distance of a marathon. So, by car, it was going to take several hours. By marathon running, about 45 minutes.

As I mentioned before, I was now in Israel. This was probably about country number 15 for me, even as young as I was. Even with all this travel, or maybe because of it, I was quite innocent and naive, around other cultures. I knew about Israel's troubles, because I was alive and coherent in 1972. The second criteria is possibly the reason why Clinton and Dubya were, or are being, basically inept in the job. It may also explain why Clinton married Hitlery in the first place, but that is purely conjecture on my part.

Israel is a beautiful country. It has lakes of white sands bordering on irrigated orchards of the most gorgeous citrus fruits you've ever seen. You see most people working, except for a group of men who basically hang out in front of stone-fronted shops playing some type of game requiring cards, checkers, dominoes, or some other type of marker. Each town has this group of men. Every city. Everywhere. They are the one constant in the universe. I am 100% certain that you know exactly where they hang out in your village, township, city, hamlet, parish, or other political subdivision.

I may have just accidentally stumbled on to the membership of "They." We all know that "They" say Paris Hilton is no-talent slut, but no one knows who started this nasty and obviously false rumor. "They" say that Wrestling isn't a true sport, when we all can plainly see how ludicrous that is!

Again, I digress.

So, traveling by car from Tel Aviv to Haifa was quite a trip for me. I wish I had taken photos at that time of my life. But the scenery I saw, from the storefronts to the agricultural wonders to the wide variety in the appearance of all the people there was just astounding in its beauty and diversity. There is no such thing as saying someone "looks Israeli," because you can find just about everything short of eskimo in their makeup.

We stopped somewhere to eat, and I got a piece of unleavened bread, split on one side. They opened it up, and let me pick from a large cart full of ingredients to build my own Shalomwich, which is what I call this type of meal. You see, I asked Mr. Accent what they were called, but apparently he is named for them, or they for him, because once again I understood not a word.

I arrive at the dock, eventually, having had a slight taste of what can only be described as the real Israel, because Mr. Accent apparently knew everyone who lived on the road from Tel Aviv to Haifa, and either waved or stopped and talked with them. In some of the smaller side streets we went to, he would literally stop and talk with some guy walking down the street. At first I thought he was asking directions, since fashion and direction can both be used after the phrase "sense of," I thought that maybe they could be elsewise related. If so, I just hoped Mr. Accent kept me from being prematurely introduced to my "Stripes" experience alluded to earlier, except at that time, since it hadn't actually yet happened to me, I didn't actually mention it, as I am not clairvoyant. I actually started watching the signs for a bit. I may not be able to read Hebrew, but I can sure enough recognize its script. If that changed to something that resembled Arabic, I was fairly certain, it would mean we had passed somewhere we probably shouldn't be, which was a central theme in Stripes, as you might recall.

So, eventually, after a few short hours, I arrived at the port of Haifa. I didn't capitalize the "p" in port, because it was possibly called something else. I really don't know. Reference my earlier mention of not reading Hebrew script for an explanation. I grabbed my stuff, thanking Mr. Accent for his assistance and for my short tour of Israel and its peoples. I then quickly walked up the gangplank to the side of what can only be described as a Tug Boat, but much larger. More like a Tug Ship, actually, but it had a winch on the back that chained it to a large vessel behind it. This vessel was a "Destroyer Escort," which we don't use anymore.

I don't mean just this vessel in particular, thanks to our friends the French, but refer to the entire class of ships called Destroyer Escorts. They have morphed into more modern roles, so other than the steel that made up its hull, and if we had a successful test, as a new tract of designer fish homes, it had little value. Already, someone had spent quite a while roaming around the ship grabbing anything of value. Apparently, looters, too, learn with time. They no longer need go to school to get official looter-in-charge titles like "archeologist" or "paleontologist," now, they loot the items before burying or sinking them. Pre-looting is actually a much more efficient system. Apparently, Destroyerine Liberation had hit the naval scene as feminine liberation had hit the 1960's, so chaperones were no longer needed.

I got to walk around the Destroyer Escort after showing my "temporary orders" to the guys on the Tug Ship, proving that I was supposed to be there. I walked up to my equipment, which is also a tale as to how it became my equipment in the first place, not being a part of the original reason for this tale, namely the reason I nearly had my own, personal international incident, I have purposefully omitted those details, not being germaine to the tale I am now relating.

Destroyer escorts that have been used by the jer... I mean "the French," then allowed to sit around rusting and decaying and generally starting to look like it actually belonged to the French, are not the cleanest, neatest places in the world. Add to the neglect by the French, the destruction wrought by the looters, and the preparations for making the target less buoyant using modern munitions, the general dirtiness of anything that is not cleaned regularly, and you get an environment that is rife with sharp edges, weak floors, and a generally bad environment for making one's way through in one's efforts not to become destroyed by incoming weapons that may not work right. You see, just getting off the target was only the first part.

I am sure the rule that says you don't stand directly behind a cannon when it is firing was not followed at least once before it became a rule. More Newtonian Physics Through Explosives training was probably not necessary for the witnesses, nor needed by the experiencee himself, who was probably more in need of either medical treatment or a will, depending on the amount of Newton he got taught.

After about three days of checking out my equipment, after all, there weren't a lot of electrical outlets still present, much less working, on the one-time Destroyer Escort. I either had to bring a battery capable of producing 120 VAC, or I needed a way to make it myself, so I needed to turn on not just the target, but I had to turn on the generators to make the target able-to-be-turned-on, without the viagra jokes from earlier. It wasn't just a matter of flipping a switch.

Anyway, after three days of checking out my equipment, I had my actions and route planned and set and marked. After all, Hansel and Gretel had the right idea, just the wrong implementation. "The Right Idea - The Wrong Implementation" is also a Government motto, but I don't know which Department gets it. No, I was prepared for my duties, including my actions planned to accomplish my desire not to be referred to posthumously in the near future.

Please see Part I's admonition about "package grabbing," and apply it to this not-quite-a-Part II's "checking out my equipment." Thank you. This information will be assumed to apply to all easy double entendres henceforth.

So, after all this, we have a meeting, which was as memorable as any meeting I've ever been to in my entire life, where we decide to do what we've been preparing to do for about 6 weeks, in total, and a few hours later, we up anchor, and are on our way to "International Waters," wherever that may be.

We then did the stuff I lied about in Part I, toward the end, getting me to the next part of my adventure.

End "The Omission."

The next Part REALLY, REALLY will be "The Return."

But Does It Work for Minimum Wage?

2007-01-06T16:42:00.000-06:00

Here's a little headline from today's online Houston ChronicLies:

I wonder how many striking workers a single Raytheon Missile replaces.

Pig Races in Katy, Texas

2007-01-06T15:35:00.000-06:00

The crowd in attendance.
Last night, I went to the Pig Races that have been all over the News. As you can see, there were a few of us there.

I'd estimate about 300 people, total, but I could be off by anywhere from 300 to 1000 in that estimate. You can see about 70% of the crowd in that picture.

The contestants were eager to participate, as they got cookies at the end.

They're off!

But number 6 seemed to win in a disproportionate share of the races. I believe something is afoot, and I want the United States Pig Racing Commission to institute an investigation.

Number 6 wins yet again!

A Perilous Tale - The Beginning

2007-01-06T10:30:00.000-06:00

Once again, with a generous dollop of metaphoric license, some slight exaggeration, and other phrases that conceal the fact I'm lying more than just occasionally, the following story is 100% true.

In old time wars, it was easy to see why they started. You know, like in the movies where some guy with a sword and a black horse and a few friends could go around grabbing up land and making the people living on the land pay him so they could continue to live there. He would eventually run into a different guy with a sword and a horse of a different color so you can tell them apart as the camera angle changes, and the two guys with the horses - and their friends - would smack each other with their swords until they decided who got to keep the money taken from the people who are actually doing something constructive to keep the guys with the horses and swords from starving when the sword smacking is done.

But nowadays, we have what are called "international incidents," or "police actions," or Bush's contribution to the cause, "Enforcement of years of empty UN Threats."

International incidents come in a wide variety, from Mexican Drug Runners coming across the US border bearing arms (not that it would ever actually happen), to military trucks crossing the Czechoslovakian border only to be rescued by the Army's newest Urban Assault Vehicle, but that's a different story that also really happened to me, but they've already made into a movie with Bill Murray.

Police Actions and EOYOEUNTs generally involve tanks and airplanes, which are the modern day equivalent of horses and swords, and even include different color paints on the tanks and pictures on the wings of the airplanes to help you tell them apart in the fight sequences, too.

Not much has changed in some respects.

"Why is he telling me this?" you might ask. There's no need to ask. I was about to tell you why. I was the cause of a very minor, itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny "international incident" myself. This story needs quite a bit of introduction, but if you read along, you can see how innocent everything actually was and how I had really done nothing wrong.

Prelude
Back in the early 1980's, I was in the US Military. Now, those folks who have been in the US Military know that the military keeps a lot of secrets. The reason for this is simple: The other side wants to kill you before you kill him, while you plan to kill him first, instead. Not telling him where you are, nor how you are armed, nor what means you have of locating him, will all go toward helping you accomplish your goal of killing him, and preventing the enemy from accomplishing his goal of killing you.

In Secrets, though, some things are more secret than others. For example, how many rolls of toilet paper that a squadron buys in a year is less secret than the design of one of those atomic bombs that James Bond always has to go and fetch for us after KAOS or SMIRSCH or SPECTRE steals one, which they seem to be able to do quite frequently. (For some reason, though, stealing the nuclear warhead always takes elaborate plots involving futuristic technology and large military compounds that heretofore have gone unnoticed on the outskirts of a large metropolis, but are close enough from the metropolis to be reached in an Aston Martin without having to refuel. The hidden military compound is invariably approached by driving down winding mountain roads with majestic panoramic views and at least one place where pretty girls have a reason to be skimpily clad in public.)

To keep the different levels of secrets straight, they set up a system. The military has a system set up to do just about anything you need done. The Secret-keep-straight system involves "classification." This means giving different secrets code words that mean how secret they are, and you write that code word at the top of any thing that has one of these secrets written on it. Stuff that you just don't want the enemy to know, but that he could probably find out if he tried to hard enough, like annual toilet paper roll purchases, are called "Confidential," for instance.

Everything that anyone in the military says or does or writes is "confidential" at a minimum. Go back to the reason for secrets in the first place to see why everything is at least a little bit secret. They even come up with catchy phrases to remind you, like "Shhhh! Loose lips sink ships."

The classification levels continue through things like "top secret" which means that I can't even tell you what goes in this category, or else I'd be giving away confidential information. Some of the still higher levels are "Eyes Only," which means you can't even take it out of the room, unless you are a friend of Bill Clinton's and you stuff it into your socks, and the even higher level called "********" which means you can't even write in a 'blog 20+ years later what it was called, or they can come get you and throw you in jail.

People are given access to different levels of material depending on the job they do, and what they need to know. To keep straight who is allowed to see what, they give people "clearances." This means one is cleared to see that level of material, if his job requires it.

I needed to be around some stuff that was at a level that required one of these "clearances." I work in electronics, which includes a lot of stuff like radios and radars and guidance systems and word processors and synchronization systems and timing systems and a lot of other stuff. Just about all of that stuff is located in a room you can't even go in to without a clearance, much less be allowed to touch anything or read anything anything in there.

So begins my innocent foray into the international arena...

The Beginning

When the military builds something to kill the other guy, they generally try to check the weapon out before using it in a confrontation. Think about it. You just invented this thing called a "bow and arrow." While you're up against the guy still using the old fashioned "spear technology," who is far away but coming closer, so as to accomplish his goal of killing you first, you find out that your weapons research group didn't load test the bow string properly and it breaks as you pull it back a bit more than normal due to adrenaline and your fervent desire to plunder more peasants rather than becoming prematurely deceased. You are now forced to confront the not-so-old-fashioned-anymore spear technology with club-that-was-recently-a-bow technology. Your odds of getting to keep the money plundered from the workers just went down considerably.

So, being an electronics guy who was perfect for the job, I was given an assignment to help test some new technology, slightly more advanced than spear technology. "Perfect for the job" meant that the job required someone with a knowledge of electronics such as I had, and that I was high ranking enough to do the assignment independently, and yet still low ranking enough not to be able to get out of it and make someone else do it, instead.

My role was not very glamorous, though. My job was to turn on the target before the weapon was fired at it. Consider something as simple as a heat-seeking missile. These are the missiles that airplanes sometimes fire at each other, like in Tom Cruise movies, for instance. Since a jet flies by forcing compressed hot gases out behind it (Newton making sure that the jet itself then responds by moving forward at an equal, but opposite distance determined by the thrust developed by the moving-backward gasses) these hot gases are the target of the heat-seeking missile. When it was tested, someone had to turn on the heat source, then get out of the way before the missile got there to destroy the heat source the unlucky person had ignited just previously. If this second part is not accomplished correctly, the getting out of the way part that is, then the person turning it on also stood a good likelihood of being similarly destroyed.

This was my job. Of course, I had to go to where the target was located in order to turn on the source, since we typically didn't keep any target ranges laying around the office. I may have omitted the fact that I was stationed overseas in Europe at this time. This means that we were going to test this weapon in someone else's country.

Generally, testing weapons in someone else's country without their permission does not go over well with the people or government of that country. So, someone who wasn't responsible for turning on targets and getting away afterwards had come up with the idea of doing the test in "International Waters."

You see, when you get between 3 and 12 miles off the coast of a country... how far depends on which country has the coast, and whether or not it follows international law... you are no longer in that country. Since you must be in a boat or airplane, you are in an area called "International Waters," which means that no one owns them, and anyone can use them, barring EOYOEUNTs or wars and the other guys' capability to stop you from using them. But there was nothing of the sort going on that the US Military was participating in, at that moment, so we were free to set up the target in international waters.

Of course, I have to get to this place first, myself. I'm in Europe, and I have to get to International Waters. Try calling Continental for those reservations, and you'll see that there is still no airport there even to today.

To get to my destination, I would be forced to ride in the US Military Equivalent of a tug boat. This is the waterborne vehicle that resembles a Safe-Clear tow truck, but it's bigger and on the water, and the guy in charge is probably not a parolee or some kid who really just wants a reason to park on the side of the road with a girl in his cab.

The reason for this is that the tug boat was going to pull the target that I was to turn on out into these international waters. To do this, the tug boat had to start in the same place as the target. Since I was going to be part of this, I joined the target, the tugboat, and the guy-who-isn't-a-parolee where the target was located.

You see, picking a target is not difficult. Generally, it must be two things: 1. Capable of making it to the destination; and 2. Remaining there until destroyed by the weapons-system-that-passes-the-test, or until not destroyed by the weapons-system-thats-facing-cost-overruns. In general new boats, airplanes, tanks, or armored personnel carriers are not used for this, although they meet both criteria in many cases.

What is preferred is something that is ruined and worthless.

So, to get our target out to international waters, we needed something that floated, to fulfill the second criterium for suitability as a target, namely remaining afloat until we could shoot it and sink it.

What we needed was a boat that was no longer useful for anything, but that still floated. Luckily, the US Military is full of institutional wisdom. Like any homeowner knows, the best way to ruin a tool is to loan it to a friend or neighbor.

So, after we were done with some old ships in WWII, we loaned them to some friends. Well, actually, the one I am talking about in particular, we loaned to the French, so it wasn't exactly friends. It was more like the neighbor you thought you liked when he helped you cut up and dispose of the tree that fell into your yard during that bad storm, but eventually stopped inviting to your barbeques because you found out he was really a jerk.

So, anyway, when the French were done with it, just like that jerk neighbor, they left the old WWII vessel just sitting out to rust. Then, keeping the jerk analogy going, they give you back a rusted tool that doesn't work anymore with a shrug that says, "Yeah, you know and I know that it's my fault, but I'm still going to claim that it was like this when I got it from you."

And to make matters worse, we had to go pick it up!

Where was it? They left it in Haifa, Israel.

Now, back in those days, it was often possible for someone in the US Military to travel among friendly allied countries using just their military identification card, however, Israel was the exception. It had something to do with people of a different religion wanting to blow them up at random. I'm not going to say who this other group is or what their religion is, so don't even ask. You'll just have to remain in the dark.

Anyway, to go to Israel, one needs a passport, regardless of one's Active Duty Military status. My passport had expired a few months earlier, and this was my first need of one since that time. Of course, since I was going to Israel for official business, I figured I could get the Government to pay for my passport.

So I did all the required paperwork, and eventually got a bright, shiny new passport. However, the very first page had an unusual paragraph printed on it: This passport is issued by the government of the United States of America for the purpose of Official Travel. Anyone obtaining this passport using fraudulent means will be prosecuted under USC 351.01 or UCMJ Article 15 or Courts Martial.

What did I care, though? I just got a new, free passport, and it was legitimate.

Now, even though members of Congress may say otherwise, the Military really does try to save money. One way they do this is by having people going somewhere on official business fly on a cargo plane, if necessary, that is already going there, so they don't have to pay for "civilian air."

Also, when someone does anything in the Military that is not his normal go-to-work-at-the-office type of job, even if the office happens to be an M1A1 or the USS Carl Vinson or the cockpit of an F15, one has to have "orders" to do so. Actually, you get orders just to determine which "office" you go to, as well, but those you turn in when you get there, and don't keep them with you. When you go somewhere else for a while but are coming back when you're done, you carry your "temporary orders," which pretty much say where you're going and what you're going to do when you get there, in general.

I had to get such orders, telling where I was starting and where I was going, so if I was found in California on my way from Florida to Virginia, someone would know that something is amiss. This is done because the enemy is known to sometimes pretend like he isn't the enemy and do stuff like this. So, "orders" are required all the time.

My orders for this trip, since we needed a ship to carry the target and the French had been nice enough to render a ship target-carrying material, said I was on a "joint forces exercise." All this really means is that people from different services are going to be involved. My orders reflected this. In the block that said, "Purpose for travel," which was right after the block that said, "Is travel required?" the government had typed in "Joint Forces Exercise." Now if I was captured, they'd have to torture me to find out I was going to Israel to turn on a target and then run away before I got blown up, myself.

Although wisdom and frugality are both present in the military, these come about at the expense of "efficiency." The concept of efficiency is lost on most military commands, especially the commands where they deal exclusively with members of the military who have no choice but to follow the system the military has set up for whatever it is the military members are doing, no matter how inefficiently they are doing it.

One example of this is the "chow hall," also know as the "galley" or "mess tent," and sometimes even "the cafeteria." There are three rules to this locale:

1. Don't look at the menu.
2. Don't look at the food.
3. Don't look at the cook.

Another such place for inefficiency is the "Military Airlift Command." This is the Continental Airlines and Fedex of the military, combined. Whether you need to get a Bradley fighting vehicle from California to Italy, or a can of gear oil from Singapore to Nicaragua, MAC is in charge of getting it there. Some things get priority, but most people do not. The phrase "Hurry up and wait," is an expression known to every veteran no matter his rank or service or location. This also happens to be the actual slogan for "MAC" services.

During my travels to Tel Aviv, I find myself sitting in Naples, Italy, waiting for my ten o'clock MAC flight, and decide I should eat dinner as it is already close to 1800. This means the airplane is 8 hours late, or 16 hours early, but it really doesn't matter, because the plane is going to leave when it's ready no matter what the schedule said when published, and I'll get less than 20 minutes notice when that time actually arrives.

Well, I get a call on the PA, "Wino, please come to the counter at this time." I go to the indicated counter, since it is the only one. I wonder, on my way, why they thought the "at this time" part was necessary. Did they think that if they just asked me to come to the counter that I'd look at my watch and say to myself, "I'll go up there in 45 minutes, since they didn't say WHEN to come to the counter?"

Walking up to the counter, I am asked by the MAC drone, "Are you Wino? You're the highest ranking guy on the flight to Sigonella with the proper clearance, so we want you to carry this envelope to Building 22 when you arrive."

"I'm not going to Sigonella," I protested weakly, as foul-ups are legend in the military, even getting their own acronym "SNAFU," which means "situation normal - all fouled up." (There are other translations associated with that acronym, but this is a PG-rated blog most of the time, so I won't publish them.)

"You're going to Tel Aviv, right? Well, that plane is going to stop off in Sig' for a few hours. While there, deliver this envelope," as the package is thrust at me.

Now, when classified stuff is sent from one place to another by courier, you can't just leave it a manila folder with 2 inch Red Letters on the front that say, "TOP SECRET," no matter what you see in the movies. Also, they don't put it in a locked briefcase with secret gadgets and a set of hand-cuffs to hold it to your wrist, most of the time. Usually, they put that marked folder into an envelope that is marked with big Red Letters on the front that say, "TOP SECRET."

This marked envelope is placed into another envelope that is marked with not-so-big black letters that say, "Confidential." You see, it is the classification of the information that is confidential. A courier might be carrying "Secret," "Top Secret," or "********" level material. If the military didn't hide the level of classification, the bad guys could just say, "If you ever see a courier with something marked '++++++++,' (See, they don't know the right word for it, so our not telling folks about it is working) grab his package."

Editorial Aside: At the time of this story, the word "package" was not synonymous with others words referring to one's masculine endowment, such as "bulge," or "zipper monster." No puns about "package grabbing" in the comments will be tolerated, unless they're really funny.

On the outside is a multi-layer form. This is to document the "chain of custody." When you receive the package, you sign saying you have it, and give the bottom copy to the person who handed you the package. He keeps this for his own protection.

When you give the package to someone else, you have HIM sign for it, and YOU keep the bottom copy. If the package comes up missing, then the investigators just tell all the couriers to show their copies. It becomes obvious who had it when it disappeared, since he won't have a signed piece of paper saying who got it from him. This determines who gets a new roommate in Leavenworth. The person is then on his own to see whether or not he becomes this new roommate's bitch.

So, I did my signing, and went to sit down once again, with my package bulging under my clothes. I put the envelope into my briefcase.

Of course, now that I'm doing this courier service, it is something that isn't covered in my "joint forces" orders. This is easily corrected by adding "And Courier Duty" to the box that originally explained-without-explaining that I was on a joint forces exercise. The type fonts look the same, as well, as if the typing were done on the same typewriter, not one at the MAC Terminal in Naples, Italy. This is because the Military surely paid someone to determine which type font and at what size it was best for reading and comprehension, and now has a "typewriter system" that incorporates this rule. At the time, Courier 10 was the font of choice, so that's what absolutely every typewriter in the military used, except for some Texas Air National Guard units who had state-of-the-art typesetting machines that were capable of proportional spacing and precise centering. Mostly, though, the TANG typesetting units were just used for writing CYA memos and other such trivial tasks. My newly amended orders were ready to go, and allow me to complete my onerous task of envelope-carrying before my real job of missile-dodging commenced.

I won't go in to the other events that transpired on this series of flights, except to say that my eventual arrival in Tel Aviv occurred, and I arrived having completed said envelope-carrying, and had my signed-though-illegible copy of the custody form to prove it, were it to become necessary. As I had envelope-carried it to its terminal destination in Sigonella, though, and hadn't sold it to the Russians for millions of Rubles or tens of dollars, I knew I would not be needing the copy, and promptly misplaced it. Surprisingly, losing the custody form never resulted in me going to Leavenworth, or another outrageous story that I could make up... I mean... "relate to you" in this blog, at some future time.

I walked up to the arrival counter in Tel Aviv, in my civilian clothes, since wearing military uniforms where it is possible to run into someone who is wearing the latest in Abdullah al-Hilfiger Designer High Explosives is not very smart. Going back to the reasons for secrecy, yet again, shows why the "In Israel, take your uniform off, dummy" rule was invoked to prevent the enemy from making one dead first.

Even prior to 9/11, the Israelis took airport security fairly seriously. I was processed, but since I had military ID, military orders, and a brand new official passport, I was folded and spindled, my orders checked, by military ID card inspected, and my passport stamped with an "Ben Gurion Airport - Israeli Transit Visa - Entry - Good for 5 days" official Israeli stamp. I was on my way.

I made it to the target vessel, got towed to international waters along with the target vessel provided magnanimously by the French's abuse of perfectly good military hardware, energized the target, and got off without getting blown up. Although not every detail went exactly according to plan, the part where I didn't get blown up was definitely in my top ten list of things to accomplish successfully during the trip, and that at least, had gone off smoothly.

So, I find myself on a tug boat, in the middle of international waters, and orders to return from my temporary not-getting-blown-up assignment. I go up to the communications center and ask if they'll see about getting me to land somewhere, so I can make my way back. Wherever the tug boat was going, I'm pretty sure I hadn't parked there, since I was parked at an airport, not a marina-type port, and most tug boats don't fly into airports on a regular basis. At least, that has been my experience.

End - Part I

The next Installment will be The Return Trip.

I Really Would Like an Answer

2007-01-05T10:48:00.000-06:00

I have asked many people the following question about government entitlement programs, and never received an answer:

What makes someone else more entitled to my earnings than me?

The Third Biggest Constitutional Mistake

2007-01-04T18:12:00.000-06:00

Since hamous ruined this with his last comment, I'm going to post it early.

Yes, you get the apple, hamous. The Amendment XVI shows in the #3 spot!

It amended, from Article I, Section 9:

No Capitation, or other direct, Tax shall be laid, unless in Proportion to the Census or Enumeration herein before directed to be taken.

What does this mean? It means that everyone must be taxed at the same rate and the same amount, and it cannot be subverted. This was envisioned as a way for each State to contribute fairly to the Federal Government. But as you can see from my second complaint, the States have been rendered impotent by the Fed.

The Sixteenth Amendment:

The Congress shall have power to lay and collect taxes on incomes, from whatever source derived, without apportionment among the several States, and without regard to any census or enumeration.

BINGO! This gives the Congress direct access to everyone's wallet, and in whatever manner they choose.

Why was this so bad? If you need to ask, then you need to get a job and find out.

The real problem is that now, people can be set upon by the government unequally, and this gives rise to the "fair share" argument of tax-hungry democrats, and their "tax the rich" mantra. It becomes hard for me to type due to the red tint I see when these statements are uttered.

How was this allowed? Why, the people were told that only the top 5% of the "rich" would ever feel this, and it was only 1% (IIRC).

What is really insidious about this (go back to my introduction, if you need to), is that people who are ALREADY rich are not hit by this. It is on INCOME, not on savings or other resources. So, the folks who already have their "unfair share" are able to keep new members out of the club, because this make amassing an "unfair share" prohibitively difficult. In other words, someone with $10 million can keep it, but one who earns $10 million must give about 55% of it away in various taxes. Don't make me do the math for you, and don't quote tax brackets. I don't want to get into that now. Just trust me that more than half of the money never makes it to the earner, and the 16th amendment is the major culprit.

Yep... Lied to by Congress to help pay for WWI, and it's been killing wage earners ever since.

I want to see a tax on family pass-downs above $200 million... and on holding in excess of $1 billion, instead. Let's let the TRULY rich pay their "fair share," not just the EARNERS who are making the country work, rather than living off the fat of their forebears.

The Second Biggest Constitutional Mistake

2007-01-04T13:55:00.000-06:00

The first line of Article I, Section 3 of the US Constitution reads:

The Senate of the United States shall be composed of two Senators from each State, chosen by the Legislature thereof, for six Years; and each Senator shall have one Vote.

Article V, in total, reads:

The Congress, whenever two thirds of both Houses shall deem it necessary, shall propose Amendments to this Constitution, or, on the Application of the Legislatures of two thirds of the several States, shall call a Convention for proposing Amendments, which, in either Case, shall be valid to all Intents and Purposes, as Part of this Constitution, when ratified by the Legislatures of three fourths of the several States, or by Conventions in three fourths thereof, as the one or the other Mode of Ratification may be proposed by the Congress; Provided that no Amendment which may be made prior to the Year One thousand eight hundred and eight shall in any Manner affect the first and fourth Clauses in the Ninth Section of the first Article; and that no State, without its Consent, shall be deprived of its equal Suffrage in the Senate.

The first paragraph of Amendment XVII reads:

The Senate of the United States shall be composed of two Senators from each State, elected by the people thereof, for six years; and each Senator shall have one vote. The electors in each State shall have the qualifications requisite for electors of the most numerous branch of the State legislatures.

What this means is that originally, the Constitution provided for the People to have representation via the House of Representatives, and the States to have representation via the Senate. With the passage of the 17th Amendment, the States lost all representation in the Federal Government.

Remember, the Federal Government was FORMED by the States relegating some of their authority and power to form it, under the agreement of this Constitution. In 1861, the States tried to reclaim some of that power, but were defeated by force of arms and relegated to subservient status. I've posted about the War of Northern Aggression before, and don't plan to re-hash those points now.

In 1913, the 17th amendment removed ALL power and representation from the States, and has left them at the mercy of the Congress and SCOTUS. Unfunded Federal Mandates, intrusion into local politics by outside entities, and other occurences are the result of this loss of power.

In addition, this brings the US closer to a democracy, and takes us further from a republic. If you think a democracy is good, I suggest you research Plato's views, Madison's views, Washington's views, and Jefferson's views on democracy.

The 17th Amendment, removing all power from the State's in the Federal Government, was the Second Biggest Constitutional Mistake in the History of the United States.

The Three Big Lies

2007-01-04T12:48:00.000-06:00

You know the three big lies, don't you?

1. I promise I'll still respect you in the morning.
2. The check is in the mail.
3. I'm from the government, and I'm here to help you.

Well, number three is apparently going to be inflicted on Texans, this year. I'm cringing, just thinking about it.

Consumer aid on minds of legislators this sessionSubhead: Many bills likely to address relief in gas, electricity, insurance costs

Another Republican lawmaker is working with consumer groups to make sure that motorists are getting what they pay for at the gas pump by requiring pumps to be adjusted for warmer temperatures.

The standard gallon of gas is measured at 60 degrees, but the liquid fuel expands at higher temperatures. Every degree above that standard diminishes the energy a gallon delivers to a vehicle, forcing consumers to use and pay for more fuel.

Rep. Burt Solomons of Carrollton said in a press release last week that Texas has an average temperature of 78 degrees, meaning consumers buy an additional 143 million gallons of gas at a cost of $416 million.

House Bill 37 would require the Texas Department of Agriculture to regulate and enforce the temperature-adjusted gas.

Here's some information probably overlooked by the distinguished representative. Gasoline comes out of the ground and into your tank. It is NOT at air temperature, but at underground temperature. I'm thinking that the 60 degree gas rule is about right.

I hope their "help" ends up costing us less than the federal "help" of Medicare, Social Security, Airline deregulation, and a slew of other "help" bills that have all but destroyed the middle class' ability to live on a single income.

The First Mistake

2007-01-02T23:10:00.000-06:00

I hate to always start with a History Lesson, but it seems like too many people are ignorant of US History... or at least, don't know my take on it.

Back in 1776, Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence. This is the document that got the Congress really talking about, and finally voting to declare, the Independence of the United States of America from England, and the Tyrant King George III.

Now, the Constitution for the United States of America was not adopted until 1789 or 1792, depending on how you count things, and written in 1787.

We've got 11 or so years here without anything. What we were governed under, at first, was the Articles of Confederation. These pretty much said that, "We're a group of independents who get together to protect each other." It had a bunch of rules and regulations, one of which I liked, which said these rules could only be overturned with a unanimous vote. That's why I question the 1789 dates mentioned above.

Anyway, what happened was the Constitution was written and ratified, and the United States of America had its contract with the people.

Now, as with any set of rules, the rule-ed (two syllable pronunciation of "ruled") tend to push the boundaries. Early on in the history of the US, James Madison, who WROTE the effing thing, had a problem with its implementation.

What happened was typical political midnight tomfoolery. John Adams, himself not a small player in the revolution of America, had made some "midnight appointments," including William Marbury to the post of Justice of the Peace in the District of Columbia. Remember, Washington, DC, belongs to no State, and is Federal territory... so the President is in charge there.

Jefferson, the incoming president, told James Madison not to issue a commission to Adams' appointment, and instead to appoint his own man to the post.

Well, this is where the Supreme Court of the United States (hereinafter called SCOTUS) steps in and pulls the fastest of all the fast ones. It established the state of "Unconstitutional." Until this point, the branches had the choice of following the Constitution, as they were personally sworn to do, or doing what they pleased.

What's the problem with this? Well, the problem becomes, who decides what is or is NOT "Constitutional." As I stated, as an aside, earlier, the Constitution itself abrogated the previous contract between "The People" and "The Government", called the "Federation," but that's not the point.

The problem is that there are supposed to be three co-equal branches of the Federal Government. ONE such branch is appointed for life, and the voters cannot directly influence it. The Executive and Legislative branches have to answer to the people.

The Judicial branch, once ensconced in their tower, need answer to no one. They have arbitrarily declared themselves the "arbiters of Constitutionality." I guess, in this case, they are "more equal" than the other two branches.

If a judge dislikes something, why, he just crosses over to the legislative side and does some dabbling. Likewise, he'll go to the executive and take care of it there.

You think this is not true? Ever heard of "busing?" This phenomenon, from back in the 1970's was the Judiciary's way of FORCING its will on the people. Please, back away from the "morality button." I'm not talking racism here... I'm talking regulatory power and enforcement responsibility. Can you show me the place in the Constitution where it gives the Judiciary the Means to Enforce such an edict?

It doesn't. Enforcement lies with the Executive... the President.

Making the rules lies with the Legislative... the Congress.

Deciding the conflicts lies with the Judiciary... the SCOTUS.

So, who decides, in MY perfect world, what is "Constitutional?" Why, TWO of the THREE equal Branches of the Government... The elected mass, the Congress... The elected individual, the President... and the appointed ajudicators, the SCOTUS.

If any two of these votes that the other is acting in an "Unconstitutional manner," then they can halt them. Otherwise, the one branch... as is today the SCOTUS... becomes a non-umverate (nine-umverate) of dictators.

The Congress and the Executive letting the SCOTUS assume this power without contesting it is the biggest Constitutional Mistake in US History.

The Three Biggest Constitutional Mistakes In US History, Introduction

2007-01-02T22:43:00.000-06:00

The following is just an opinion that I stated a while ago, without explanation. I hope that my following diatribe... I mean.. um... "treatise" sheds some light on my feelings of the matter.

First, before I begin, let me tell you my credentials.

I have none. That's right. None, zip, zero. I'm just an average guy who does two things that are far from common: I read and I think. Most people do neither, much (if not most) of the time.

I know that this is a somewhat inflammatory introduction, but it is not meant to be. Many people read. Many people think. Most people, I have come to find, do neither. Congratulations! You, by reading this, at the very least do half of what I am talking about. Please think about what follows, as well.

Now, what I'm about to write is my personal opinion. Think of it as Publius, but without the genius behind it. I'm just trying to figure out where we went wrong. And "went wrong" is what I mean.

Just look at the Federal Government of today... They are doing things never authorized for them. You see, there are some evils in the world. Two of them are governments and corporations.

Now, I'm not one of those "I hate business" people. In fact, I love business, and I even love much of what corporations do. I'm not an "anti-globalist." I'm not much of a "globalist," either, for that matter. "Corporations are evil" and "Governments are Evil" are not two random statements.

Do you know what a corporation is? Probably not, I'm sorry to say. A corporation is a contractual construct that has the status of a person, in legal matters. That's it, plain and simple. Forget the legal gobbledy-gook and forget the "heretofores" and "parties of the first and second part." A corporation is a person, for legal purposes.

Now, a government is a similar construct. It is a contract between a people and a legal entity for both benefits and payments. The people are always seen to benefit, but the government always receives the payment.

Neither of these, in and of themselves, are evil. A corporation was needed, to insure the free flow of ideas, technology, goods, currency... the good effects of corporations are endless. What is wrong with a corporation? In short, it doesn't die.

Neither do governments. Both of these entities are set up with the best of intentions. No dictator ever took power without a lot of followers. No republic ever got established without the assent of the governed. They are never bad to start. What goes bad with a government is that the government inherently wants what is best for the government.

The government/corporation are interchangeable here. What we have is an immortal entity that looks out for its own interest. Both have power over smaller entities and people, though not all entities or people, and not absolute power, regardless.

These entities never die, so whatever gains they make into the inroads of creating more power, or making themselves more immune to outside influence or control, are consolidated, and never abandoned, once gained. It is much harder to take away than it is to never grant in the first place. The expression "possession is 9 points of the law" basically means that it's easier to keep than to get. So, once one of these entities gains power, it will only reliquish it with great opposition.

Once this self-interest and longevity begin to fester... I mean "mature"... the goveration or the corporment begins to grow uncontrollably. The problem with a corporation is that its power is not absolute. Market forces and government regulations can keep corporations in check.

But the government is a different matter. It has no sovereign except the people or more power. The real problem we have right now, is that the government isn't listening to the people, and it has amassed too much power, much of it against the compact it made with the people.

My next few articles will tell my opinion of the three worst things that ever happened to this Constitutional Republic we call the United States of America.

A Rambling Confession

2007-01-02T21:11:00.000-06:00

OK.. I did it. I confess.

What did I do? Well, I have to go back a few years, and I'm going to change a few details, to protect the guilty - namely me.

I moved into my house in May. May 30, to be exact. It wasn't this year.

Across the street was a brick house that was fairly normal for the neighborhood, except it was brick, as I already mentioned. The rest of the houses on my street are not brick. They are typically some version of what I term "1970's siding." You know, the cracked vinyl that was touted to last until the next Ice Age, or the "never needs painting" aluminum siding that has since oxidized into what looks like a whitish powdery mildew, except, of course, that it's white and mildew is black. Think of it as a vertical layer of dust such as that typically found horizontally, of course, on all horizontal surfaces not suitable for sitting, in the homes of the typical winners of the Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes, except it's vertical, as I also said earlier.

So, being a brick house was unusual, but that's not why I mentioned it. It caught my eye, mainly because it is directly across the street from my house. This tends to get one's attention, especially when looking out the front windows of one's house. I noticed the brick part later, but it does make it stand out.

So, it's May 30. It's Houston. The sun is bright and shining, and it's a perfect Houston Spring Day to move into the new place. I look around the neighborhood, and internally thank the inventer of the privacy fence, and the salesman who sold the fence to the builders of some of my neighbors' houses, but that's another story which I'll skip for now.

I internally note that, "being May 30, the family across the street certainly is lax in taking down their Christmas lights." I say this to myself internally, since I don't mind talking to myself, but I don't want anyone to eavesdrop on me while I do so.

Now, I don't want to offend any particular ethnic group, but this family is not originally from the US. At least, their language skills appear to be lacking for native speakers. I won't tell you what their background is. I'll just call them "The Navidads," since that is actually my nickname for them.

Anyway, those white icicle Christmas lights became an obsession to me. Every time I would see them, I would be forced to make a remark.

"You know, if they didn't have the red brick, but instead had some of that crappy, oxidized 1970's aluminum siding that had turned white already, those effin' lights wouldn't stand out so much." This would have been a typical comment I might make.

When I say "forced to make a remark," I am not being figurative. Even when my brain and jaw muscles would attempt to stop me, my lungs and voice box just fought all the harder, and the only thing worse than mumbling stuff like, "One of these days, I swear, I'm going to go rip those things down," is to shout things like, "You know, it only takes a few minutes to take them down. When can they ever find the time, since they are so busy leaning on pickup trucks drinking beer?"

Of course, one can only claim to have Turretts Syndrome so many times before folks stop believing. Sorta like crying wolf, without having to worry about getting eaten at the end. Of course, getting shot is still a possibility, but that's not what I was here to talk about.

Christmas, my first year in my new house, was very memorable. Not only did I get some neat magnet toys, I figured I'd finally get the payment of my six-plus months of waiting for the Christmas lights.

Never.
Not once.
Not even ONE time did they turn them on.

Not even a flicker.

Come my one year anniversary, it finally happened. It started out innocently enough. I came home early from work, and there was no pickup truck in their driveway. There was no Suburban in their driveway. There was no Toyota POS-car in their driveway. There was no 1980's vintage decayed pimp-mobile of indeterminate make, with a dent in the fender and the de rigueur bent coat hanger for the antenna in their driveway. The driveway was empty.

The front door was closed.

There was no one home. Now was my chance.

I may not have mentioned it, at least not in this post, but I am tall. If you have had the fortune (good or mis~) to have met me, then you know this already. In fact, I am tall enough to reach low-hanging icicle lights that have been hanging for at least a year with a red-brick background making them all that more noticeable, without a ladder.

I wanted to be certain no one was home, so I knocked on the door. I was ready to make up some story, use a lot of words like "icosohedron," "Bernoulli," and "fladutration," until I could claim "failure to communicate," and make my getaway.

Knock, knock! I did this as it is a customary way to make sure you're not caught committing property crimes in Houston. This is also preparatory to not getting shot by an angry homeowner, or meeting his dog "Budreaux." I don't know why Pit Bulls always have Cajun-sounding names, but it is a fact of life that if the tire-to-car ratio at a house goes below 3-to-1, the dog is named something that could've come directly from the swamps of our nearest southeastern neighbor.

Knock, knock! I repeated, and looked back across the street, casually glancing both up and down my street to see if I would be witnessed in my acts.

I walked across to my house and put my work-things away. Now, depending on your line of work, "work things" can mean many things. It can include lunchboxes and thermoses, for instance, if you happen to work in a mostly outdoor job. It can be a tool box if you happen to fix appliances. It can be a computer or briefcase if you work in an office. It can be iron maidens and other implements of torture if you happen to work as an X-ray technician.

This is an aside. The rest of the confession continues after this interlude.

It is my firm belief that people are sorted for medical-field professions by their reactions to a series of tests. In one such test, a candidate is placed in a room with tiny, defenseless animals, and food and water and bowls, etc.

Those who feed and care for the poor furry waifs are made into veterinarians.

Those who pet them are made into doctors.

Those who ignore them are made into dentists.

Those who torture and maim them are made into X-Ray technicians. "Can you put your foot at an angle like this?" accompanied by a throat-rending, ear-splitting scream of pain as my probably-broken ankle is forcefully twisted into a position it could never accomplish before such X-Ray was needed.

I have had several ankle X-Rays, and believe me, this is not a random occurence. It is intentional and systematic. Evil. Plain, ol' evil, is what X-Ray technicians are.

The Confession Continues...

So, after putting away my work stuff, I look back across the street, at the white icicle lights against the red brick house.

And I do it. I cross the street and grab the end of the string of lights. IT BREAKS OFF IN MY HAND!

It is dry-rotten. The copper has turned green and powdery and falls out of the short piece of stiff, cracked plastic insulation that once resembled festive holiday cheer I hold in my hand! How long had these things been up here? No wonder they didn't turn them on!

A quick glance along the line of lights verifies the absence of any plug on the end of the line, seeing it terminate toward the apex of the garage-gable behind their tree. No wonder! They couldn't be turned on if you soaked them in viagra for a week and sat up telling them "Bill Clinton Oval Office" stories all night long. Nope. The only way to get any light out of these involved their ignition temperature and a blow torch.

I proceeded to abandon all pretense of order in my crime. I snatched and grabbed the lights until my arms were full of little, broken faux icicles and my shirt was covered in green, oxidized copper powder. I walked across to my trash can and tossed in my first bundle, and returned for my next. I was between their front door and their garage door, greedily grabbing and snatching and bundling their erstwhile festive decorations, and I was beginning to wonder how to get the last batch down when IT happened.

Their front door opened from the inside, and a head pops out. I am asked, in some foreign language, what I was doing. Of course, at this point I speak absolutely no foreign language (if need be, I don't speak english either) I couldn't understand the words.

I didn't really need the words, though. I'm standing with an arm load of white, broken icicle lights. I am staring at the dangling end of more of the string of lights, five feet above my head, wondering how to get it down.

And there in the door is my neighbor. So, what did I do?

I went home, got my step ladder, and took down the rest of the lights.

With slight exaggerations, some hyperbole, and not just a little outright lying, the above story is true.

Now This is Cool!

2006-12-29T22:28:00.000-06:00

Man Flies Without Airplane

Is that not something great?! I mean, dropping from an airplane and being able to propel yourself through the air like a bird. It sure puts hang-gliding to shame.

There's something to be said for being a little crazy and a lot smart.

Just Doing a Job that Americans Won't Do, right?

2006-12-29T00:29:00.003-06:00

Another Illegal Immigrant shows what we're letting across our borders.

Gallegos was a suspect in the Dec. 22 shootings of two Long Beach officers during a traffic stop.

Santa Ana officers went to confront a man believed to be Gallegos, Long Beach Officer Jason Evans said. "As soon as he sees the car with the officers, he starts shooting," Walters said.

More than 50 shots fired, and this guy had been across the border THREE times, already.

Disgusting that our politicians won't do anything about the scum coming across our border at their own leisure.

Star Trek in Modern Times

2006-12-28T23:21:00.000-06:00

OK, folks. I know that you may not believe this, but Star Trek can be used as a metaphor for just about anything. Here's my stab at categorizing the world's peoples according to Star Trek episodes.

The Americans: We're the Federation. Multi-racial, multi-cultural, and yet still get along with one another, regardless. Any man, woman, or child can grow up to be in charge.

The Arabs: These are the Klingons. They speak a crude-sounding language, have no reason to live other than killing, and honor ranks higher than justice in their morality scheme.

The Chinese: These are the Romulans. Although essentially equal to the Federation in intelligence, resources, and technology, they cannot ever come out on top. They are competitors who will cheat when given the chance, but seem cordial when confronted directly.

Environmentalists: These are the Organians, but without the super-human abilities to make the Federation and Klingons stop fighting with super-heated weapons. That's the very archaic race that has had zero change in their society, as per Spock's Tricorder, for over 10,000 years, which was as far back as the tricorder went.

Editorial aside: What were the three things that the tricorder recorded? It seemed like that little cassette player had a million readings when Spock used it. "External atmosphere is breathable, Captain." "There are humanoid lifeforms approximately 35 meters in that direction." Man! That thing could do anything at all!

Mainland Europeons (Pronounced "You're A Peon."): These are the Halkans, who will "die as a race" to preserve their pacifism. Henry Gibson, the Halkan leader, even had the right EU look on his face.

The US Congress: The Triskelions are the guys who set up the gladiator games with Kirk, Uhura, and Checkov. They pit one group against another, and wager on the outcome. The Triskelions wagered for "quatloos." The Congressmen wager for power.

The Shiite Muslims and the Sunni Muslims: These are the Cherons, who were the "black on right/white on right" black and white guys who were essentially the same, but fought to their own self-destruction over the mirror image differences.

University Liberals: These are the Talosians. These were the guys who were so advanced mentally that they communicated telepathically, and could cause humans and other sapient beings to "see" anything they wanted them to, as illusions. They had become so advanced, that they now needed the experiences of others to please themselves, being incapable of doing anything creative or worthwhile by or for themselves.

Israelis: Slow to move, but nearly impossible to destroy, they are the Gorns. These were the reptile-like creatures that Kirk fights one-on-one, eventually making a scattergun out of bamboo, gun powder, and diamonds. Even this doesn't kill him.

The UN: These are the Metrons, but again, without the power. These were the tall guys in dresses that appear at the end of the Gorn episode and applaud Kirk's decision not to kill the Gorn, stating in an obviously snooty way, that "There's hope for you, yet."

John Kerry is also a Metron, but with a more expensive dress and snootier speech patterns.

Reporters are Erminians (from Eminiar VII, the sworn enemies of those from Vendikar), who want a nice, clean war, with no damage to structures. They don't like the reality of war, so they hide from it, while benefitting from its results, personally.

Saddam Hussein is Anton Karidian, aka Kodos the Executioner, who gets his comeuppance at the end of the episode.

George Bush is Commodore Decker. He's William Windom, who almost destroys the Enterprise trying to kill the Doomsday Machine with phasors, which he had already lost his ship, the Constellation, also trying to kill it with phasors. Even though his goal is correct, he sticks to a losing action without any real reason given for him doing so.

The Democrat voters: The surviving settlers on Omicron-Ceti-3 who are under the influence of some spores that cause them to be content with just sitting around living day-to-day with no real goal or reason. These are also intentional Welfare Mothers, as well.

I'm sure you can come up with others, if you try.

More Houston ChronicLies Editing Trouble

2006-12-28T23:15:00.000-06:00

This link has another 'statue' problem.

Next to last paragraph:

"The state, which already was defending against a lawsuit filed by strip clubs challenging the law, says it reluctantly went along with the clubs rather than having a federal judge follow through on his threat to throw out the entire statue as unconstitutional."

Isn't her 15 minutes finished?

2006-12-28T23:10:00.000-06:00

Cindy Sheehan is at it again.

I question her sanity. I think she is crazy, and grief doesn't cover it. Everyone feels grief, sometime, and don't act out in such juvenile ways. A good psychologist is needed, more than anything else.

My Recent Absence

2006-12-28T10:39:00.000-06:00

I don't normally talk about my personal life. In fact, I rarely do so. I would bet that even people who think they know me can't even tell what religion I am. Lee, you are probably the one exception to this, if anyone is. So, once again, you're out of the running before the race even starts.

Anyway, I've been in a severe depression for the last month or so. It is hard to tell when I'm depressed. Typically, I keep a happy countenance, regardless of my inner turmoil. Think of the old saw about the clown smiling on the outside while he's crying on the inside, for reference.

So, I've gone "switch off" for the last few weeks.

Yesterday, I snapped out of it, and am part of the human race again.

So, to catch you all up on the happenings at the HouViews Homestead, yesterday I finished the energy-upgrade on my house. I now have insulated walls, about 8 to 12 inches of insulation in the ceiling, a radiant barrier, and new duct work. I think my heater has turned house heating over to the computers and compressors I have running all over the place.

In fact, I think I'll go take a picture of my house to show you folks my humble abode.

SNAP

This is my dwelling.

You can't see my silver Jeep, to the right, as it's at the end of my driveway. You can't see the two oaks that it's parked under, either. What do you think of the paint colors? I've been really concerned about that since I did it. I've never seen a house with similar colors, and I'm afraid it might be considered inappropriate by some Home Owners Associations, though I've never received a letter.

At least it isn't torquoise and sienna.

I'm back, and sure to be my normal abnormal self once I get up and running. Right now, I'm calling my creditors and "making right" with them. I have figured out that paying what you owe them works. They don't need making right if you pay them WHEN you owe them, as well. Oh, well. I have their money already.

I also was one of the few who got a Sony Playstation 3. That's right. I gave it to my son in payment for him doing much of the aforementioned energy upgrades on my house. He says it's really cool. That's coming from a 19 year old college junior (in his second year, but has enough credits for Jr. status already), so you know it is a valid video console review. Maybe I'll have him write a bit of his opinion when I next talk to him.

Anyway, signing off, now. I'm going to get some work done around the house.

It isn't domestic, and it isn't spying

2006-12-17T00:31:00.000-06:00

Showdown Looms Over Domestic Spying

It is very simple, folks. The dem's are completely wrong on this issue. The president has two basic jobs: Enforcing the laws that the Congress passes, and commanding the military against all enemies, foreign and domestic.

This program falls under the second job description, not the first.

It's really that simple.

Raunch Dressing

2006-12-16T17:35:00.000-06:00

Would you like cheese with that, sir?

Something to Ponder

2006-12-16T17:02:00.000-06:00

Does Farmer Christmas say, "Hoe, hoe, hoe?"

Dick Cheney says, "Thanks!"

2006-12-12T07:35:00.001-06:00

Bill would allow legally blind Texans to hunt

So, they're going to let blind hunters hunt.

Someone, please explain why this isn't just so much politically correct BS. How is someone blind going to see the deer? Are we going to put those little beeper-finders on the deer to let the blind guys find them, like we do with softballs and golfballs?

Something tells me that it won't work as well on deer.

If The Republicans Had Done This...

2006-12-12T07:14:00.000-06:00

...they might still be in office.

That's right. The Dems are cutting THIS YEAR's earmarks. "Earmark" is governmentese for "unnecessary superfluous spending," aka "pork."

Why was this so hard to understand for republicans? If the base told them once, they told them 100,000 times that they were spending too much.

Maybe the GOP learned something from this election. The demoncrats definitely learned something: The GOP was spending too much. Not that the dems are averse to spending too much, but they want to stay in power, and cutting Gov't spending is a way to help themselves to their own personal (power) ends.

Democrats ... (gratuitous opinion aimed against republicans removed) ... will start by removing billions of dollars in lawmakers' pet projects next month.

But will it last? Well, at least until the next elections:

...(The Demoncrats) said lawmakers could re-apply for home-state projects next year when Congress turns to the fiscal 2008 budget cycle.

We'll see if this is a change or just politicking, again.

The dem's are two for two, in my opinion. If they keep this up, then I think that I can live with the November election results... not just the message.

I See Nothing Wrong With This

2006-12-07T19:39:00.000-06:00

Democrats Plan to Cancel Congressional Pay Raise

Members of Congress are in line for a $3,300 pay raise effective Jan. 1 unless they block it, and Democrats said Thursday they intend to try.

Officials said Rep. Nancy Pelosi of California and Sen. Harry Reid of Nevada, the party's leaders, had notified Republicans they will try to add the anti-pay-raise provision to a bill that provides funds for most government agencies through Feb. 15.

Congress must pass the funding bill before it adjourns for the year, and the target for that is Friday.

I don't care if it is blatant electioneering or politicking. They are doing the right thing. Hell! A pay cut would be more to my liking!

About Houviews

2006-12-07T17:48:00.000-06:00

I've been thinking about some things that maybe aren't clear about this weblog, HouViews.

First off, the spam warning up top. This doesn't mean that I'll delete alternate points of view. It means that if you're showing up here trying to get us to visit your website where we can earn $800 per day, view naked coeds, or have a chance to make a lot of money for helping you out with your lost millions, well, your post is destined for the bit bin. Sayonara.

Secondly, comments on any topic are welcome. I just post what I'm reading about and feel like venting about. If you want to vent about something, feel free. Not that there aren't a bazillion places on the internet (I got that number from Eric's Factbook) to do so.

Thirdly, I know I'm abrasive. I don't do it on purpose, but, contrarily, I also don't avoid abraiding folks who I think deserve it. I have my views. You have yours. Fair enough. Post backup and such, and feel free. If I tell you to piss off, it doesn't mean leave, it means that I disagree wholeheartedly, and have probably just spent several paragraphs explaining why I disagree.

Fourthly, I use big words sometimes. I decided back in the seventh grade that I would not lessen my own vocabulary because others could not understand the words. So, I type like I talk, and I occasionally use words that are not in the top 100, usage-wise. I don't care. I try to use the best word for the meaning I wish to convey. I suggest clicking here if you don't understand a word I might happen to use. Or you can ask me. I'll be happy to explain.

Fifthly, I just wanted to put something else here, because I've never done a "fifthly" before.

I won't be able to say that, next time.

Anyway, I sorta see this 'blog as my way of "talking back to the TV." You know, you'll be sitting there, then see something... maybe a commercial or a newscast... and want to call, "King's ex!" on them. Well, this is my place to do so.

You're welcome to comment on anything. Irreverence is hard to read, so perhaps a "stop sign" is needed, when you go sarcastic. Something along the lines of:

/sarc

to show that you are done with your sarcastic comment would be fine. Often, my comments are sarcastic, so I'm one of the worst offenders.

Anyway, enjoy the space, and lemme know what you think. I do read most of the blogs that folks post here, but I don't always comment. I'm there, at least on occasion.

At Least his Mother is Trying

2006-12-06T09:51:00.000-06:00

12 year old boy arrested after mother calls the cops

I really can't fault the mother here. The kid is apparently a handful, and there is probably no father around to set things straight. There's a reason why mothers have used the threat, "Wait till your father gets home," since time immemorial. Fathers know that kids need a firm hand. Mothers think children need "guidance." Especially where boys are concerned, a firm father goes a lot further than a stern mother.

Anyway, this kid is headed down the wrong path, and the mother is trying to set him straight. I hope she gets him back on track.

2006-12-03T09:39:00.000-06:00

Indians cast to play Indians

What a switch! Does anyone else remember them casting just about anyone as an American Indian back in the 1970's? I can't find a web picture of it, but the side kick from the Wild Wild West was often an "indian," by giving him a long, straight black wig.

Apparently, that's the only thing that distinguishes Indians from Anglos - long, straight, dark hair.

Beware of Normal-Looking People

2006-12-03T09:22:00.000-06:00

Police in Louisiana arrested a suspected serial killer, yesterday. He might be responsible for 22 homosexual rape-murders. The article I linked to has a picture of him.

Some notable quotes from the article:

"You wouldn't suppose this dude could do what they said. He looks like somebody from a church."

"He didn't look scary."

"If they hadn't arrested him, he could have stayed here 20 years and nobody would have thought anything about him."

"He was very calm," O'Bryan said. "The officers didn't even handcuff him because at the time they said they only wanted to question him."

So, if you see someone who doesn't look like a killer...

LOOK OUT!

Gwyneth Paltrow Has Stupid Friends

2006-12-02T11:15:00.000-06:00

US actress Gwyneth Paltrow prefers British dinner talk

"I love the English lifestyle, it's not as capitalistic as America. People don't talk about work and money, they talk about interesting things at dinner," she told "NS," the weekend magazine supplement of daily Portuguese newspaper Diario de Noticias on Saturday.

"I like living here because I don't fit into the bad side of American psychology. The British are much more intelligent and civilized than the Americans," the 34-year-old added.

Maybe she just hangs out with the wrong Americans.

My first bleg...

2006-12-02T11:05:00.000-06:00

No, I don't want money.

Wait... let me rephrase that.

I don't want YOUR money.

I need some help on a small project. Maybe it'll lead to something.

I have zero artistic talent. I need someone to collaborate on a couple of ideas I have. I will describe a scene, all the central elements. You interpret it and then send your drawing back to me. I caption it. I then publish it here, and all proceeds are split 50-50 between us. To date, all proceeds totalled equals: $0.00.

For payment, I have cigars I probably shouldn't have, as well as a few other items that I would be willing to part with, vis a vis T-shirts or future T-shirts (did I mention that I'm going to Brazil early next year?), for a few minutes or (no more than) a couple of hours' work. I also am capable of buying rounds and have even been known to part with cash, on occasion. Don't get your hopes up concerning the cash.

It probably isn't going to happen.

Here's How I See Big Pictures

2006-12-02T09:24:00.000-06:00

I have always had the ability to see the "forest" by seeing just a few trees. What follows is five bits of information I have read. I am going to give you links to the original articles, and then pull some quotes out of each. Let's see if we have a forest or just a bunch of trees.

1. From today's Houston Chroniclies:
Dec. 2, 2006, 12:25AM
FBI agent describes group's jihad plot
Photos show a Dallas student and 2 from Houston at weapons-training camps near Willis

2. From today's Houston Chroniclies:
Dec. 2, 2006, 8:12AM
Pig race plan leads to dirty argument
Upset by moves of a Katy Islamic group, shop owner nearby will hold weekly contests

3. From Foxnews.com:
April 20, 2004
Mich. City Council OKs Muslim Prayer Over Loudspeaker
(No sub-headline)

4. From Breitbart.com, via Drudge Report:
Dec 01 6:53 PM US/Eastern
Muslims Seek Prayer Room at Airport
(No sub-headline)

5. From www.washingtonpost.com, via Drudge Report:
Friday, December 1, 2006; B02
Church Is Denied Waiver of Noise Restriction
St. John Neumann's Bells Disturbed Some Residents

There are the source documents.

Here are some quotes, from the above:

#1:

An FBI agent testified in federal court Friday that at least four aspiring jihadists conducted firearms training and discussed going to war against the United States on two weekend camping trips near Willis earlier this year.

"The group had discussions about traveling to Pakistan to engage (the) United States and coalition forces,"...

#2:

...the Muslim group announced it had purchased 11 acres south of Interstate 10 to build a mosque, school, community center and athletic facilities.

Hard feelings started when Baker met association officials, who, he said, advised him he should move his stone shop.

"They told me it was time for my family to pack up," said Baker, whose family has occupied its land since the early 1800s. "They said a mosque and a marble shop didn't go too good together."

#3:

...the City Council voted unanimously Tuesday night to allow a mosque to send out a call to prayer to Muslims on a loudspeaker.

The Bangladeshi al-Islah mosque...(snip)...compromised by agreeing not to air the call before 6 a.m. or after 10 p.m.

Some Muslims say the call is the equivalent of church bells

#4:

The imams at the airport Friday drew a few stares as they laid down their prayer rugs and knelt on the hard rubber floor at the airport.

The clerics requested a meeting after both the US Airways incident and a recent flap over Muslim cabdrivers who didn't want to pick up passengers carrying alcohol.

#5:

Fairfax County officials have issued a ringing non-endorsement of the bells at St. John Neumann's in Reston, ruling that they must toll within the limits of the county's noise ordinance or not at all.

So, do we have trees or a forest here? Let me know what you think.

As an aside, if I see Muslims praying in public places, like these imams who keep shoving it in our faces, I think I'll spontaneously loudly burst out in the song, "My Country Tis of Thee."

(If you want to hear it in organ or bells, click the appropriate link at the bottom, after the music stops (with the clicked instrument, takes about 2 seconds on a fast connection), click the "back button," followed by clicking on the "refresh button". The back button is the green arrow pointing to the left. The refresh button is the page with the yin-and-yang green arrows. Enjoy. I like the bells best, myself.)

More Global Warming

2006-11-22T01:43:00.000-06:00

Snow in Central Florida

I know this is caused by global warming, but I'm not sure how. I'm sure some wingnut environmentalist can explain it to me.

Snow flurries were reported in Seminole, Orange, and Volusia Counties Tuesday night. (snip)

The last time it snowed in Central Florida was reportedly January 24, 2003. Before that, it hadn't snowed since 1989.

Yep. I'm sure the snow is part of global warming. Probably some owls are extinct now, because of it. Nothing ever went extinct before man came around. And the climate never changed, either.

Just some stuff I have on my computer

2006-11-22T01:32:00.000-06:00

Here are a couple of pictures I've taken during my travels. I hope you like them.

This is Stoli, my cat. I told you she is adorable.

These things are called "Gatongs." They are launched into the water during the Thai Fullmoon Festival. People make a wish, then send them out. They thank God for the water and suchlike, and there is a belief that if two people launch their gatongs, and they come together, they are destined to be married.

Preventing Animal Cruelty

2006-11-17T14:23:00.000-06:00

That guy with the hoe is saying, "So this guy comes up and is molesting this poor, defenseless rhino, and I chased him away with this."

The other guy responded, "Yeah, I wonder if he's the same guy who shot my horse and molested that deer."

I Probably Shouldn't Post This

2006-11-16T11:10:00.000-06:00

"Weirdo" takes on a whole new meaning

Bryan James Hathaway, 20, of Superior faces a misdemeanor charge of sexual gratification with an animal. He is accused of having sex with a dead deer he saw beside Stinson Avenue on Oct. 11.

But it gets better, or worse, still:

If convicted, Hathaway could serve a prison term of up to two years because of a previous conviction. In April 2005, Hathaway pleaded no contest to one felony charge of mistreatment of an animal for the shooting death of Bambrick, a 26-year-old horse, to have sex with the animal.

His mother must be proud.

What is wrong with some people? I really can't even comprehend this kind of individual.

Man Caught with Money and Terroristic Information

2006-11-16T10:05:00.000-06:00

Airport Arrest Turns Up Nuclear Info
A man from Nigeria, home to 65 Million Muslims, is caught with $78,000 dollars and a computer containing information about nukes and cyanide, and who knows what else.

And what piece of information is left out of the article? You tell me.

A man was arrested at Detroit Metropolitan Airport after officials say they found him carrying more than $78,000 in cash and a laptop computer containing information about nuclear materials and cyanide.

Sisayehiticha Dinssa, an unemployed U.S. citizen, was arrested Tuesday after a dog caught the scent of narcotics on cash he was carrying, according to an affidavit filed in court.

(Emphasis Added)

Forrest Gump Disease Infects Australian Man

2006-11-15T09:23:00.000-06:00

Stupid is as stupid does

OK... Here's a quiz: What word should you never, ever say in an airplane or at an airport?

Well, here's this week's winner of the "Big Duh!" award.

Riccardo Paulin, a retiree, pleaded guilty on Tuesday to having asked a flight attendant "Where do you keep the bomb?"

Houston Chronic-Lies Tries to Drum Up Sympathy for Criminals

2006-11-15T07:47:00.000-06:00

Son, 7, becomes vocal ally in mom's deportation fight

The Chronicle writes this tripe trying to drum up sympathy for this criminal

"She's not a criminal because she hasn't killed or robbed anyone," she said, fighting back tears as she related her own experience having children in Texas while still an illegal immigrant. "All she did was look for a better destiny for her child, like any mother."

Boo-effing-hoo. She broke the law. There are ways to immigrate to the US legally. She decided to cut in line, and got caught. Allowing this to continue is unfair to those who have done the hard work and abided by the rules to come to our great country.

Mexico's 500-member Chamber of Deputies unanimously approved a resolution calling on President Bush and the U.S. Congress to pardon Elvira Arellano, Saul's mother and an illegal immigrant. She has been holed up in a Chicago church since Aug. 15 trying to stave off deportation back to Mexico.

How about instead, you Mexican yahoos stop taking bribes and stop the corruption and lawlessness in your own backyard so that your citizens aren't risking death and separation to get away from your squalid country?

If the Mexican culture (and I use that term loosely) weren't so corrupt, they'd be at least as well off as those of us in the US.

Of course, the Chronic-Lies has to be "fair," so they write one sentence that shows the truth:

Immigration enforcement activists say parents who enter the U.S. illegally are to blame for putting children at risk.

I wonder how you say, "Duh!" in Mexican.

Democrats Insist on Illegal Voting in Texas: UPDATED

2006-11-03T20:46:00.000-06:00

Democrats Ask SCOTUS to Allow Illegal Votes

The law in question bans people from handling or mailing absentee ballots for voters who are not relatives or don't live with them. State lawmakers amended the law in 2003 to permit such assistance if the helper signs the envelope with a name and address.

Abbott's office has indicted 13 people for voter fraud since 2003. All of them had a record of voting Democrat; 12 were either black or Hispanic.

That doesn't sound too onerous to me. Want to help an elderly person vote? Write your name on the envelope, and mail it for him. Or be related...

Note that all those who are casting the illegal votes are democrats. Who cares the race? Democrats can't win without cheating.

* * * * * * * * * * U P D A T E * * * * * * * * * *

SCOTUS Tells Dems to Pack Sand

...the U.S. Supreme Court refused to lift an order by the 5th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals.

The end result is that Texas Attorney General Greg Abbott can continue enforcing a law restricting the handling of mail-in ballots

Mayor White Tries the Old Clinton Technique: Lie Profusely

2006-11-03T12:41:00.000-06:00

Propositions G and H are Bad for the People

Proposition 2 was approved two years ago. The City has fought it, and ignored it.

With Prop G and Prop H, they're trying to destroy it.

Go, Dr. Hotze. I hope the intelligent voters win this one, too.

Then, of course, Houston City Council will just ignore, impede, and try again to destroy it, until they succeed.

Terrorists Support Democrats

2006-11-02T14:13:00.000-06:00

The terrorists think the dems will help them

OK, it's not from the most objective of sources, but I'm sure it is accurate.

Democrats are weak on everything except getting themselves back into power.

If there were a synonym for "self-interest" it would be "democrat politician."

That's the way they are, and the way it works. Hating America seems to be a common thread between democrats and every other non-American in the world.

Isn't it illegal to remove campaign signs?

2006-11-02T07:28:00.000-06:00

I thought that it was illegal to remove legally-posted campaign signs. If so, then the principal should be brought up on charges.

Republican Signs Removed by Democrats

The "Encourage Terrorists" sign was placed near the early-voting location at Macario Garcia Middle School, named after a World War II Medal of Honor winner. Principal Viretta West summarily removed it.

If the facts of the story are true, then the principal should be in jail. I don't know the "chapter and verse" of election laws, but I'm pretty sure it is a violation to remove signs, as this principal has admitted doing. Want to bet that this NEA toady is a democrat?

I am offended by all democrat signs. If his actions are allowed to stand, then I feel it is MY right to remove any and all democrat signs that I see. Isn't that equality under the law?

I hope the DA takes action on this. If he doesn't, I'll consider it carte blanche for me to destroy all democrat signs from this point forward.

BS, Thou Hast a Name, and It is Ingram

2006-11-02T05:40:00.000-06:00

Man Claims to have Amnesia

Pardon me if I call "BS" on this guy. For some reason, he's a coward who runs away, then excuses himself with "I have amnesia." Having recently been memory-less for a night, I can understand short term memory loss, but months and months? Give me a break.

I think that "dissociative fugue" is psycho-speak for "running away from his problems."

And those that fall for this crap are just enabling him. Too bad, guy. Go back to Canada and its free healthcare that all the democrats spout about.

Is There a Spanish Word for Chutzpah?

2006-11-02T05:06:00.000-06:00

Mexican Consul asks Wetbacks to Report Workplace Abuses

The Justice and Equality in the Workplace Program was designed to educate workers about their rights and guide them through the U.S. government bureaucracy to file complaints against abusive employers, said Carlos I. Gonzalez Magallon, the Mexican consul general here.

"There's always been an atmosphere of fear in the community, especially among undocumented workers," Gonzalez said Wednesday.

Unfortunately, they shouldn't be here in the first place, and should be sent packing, Señor Manynames.

I'm tired of wetback "rights." The only right they have is to go back to Mexico and apply for citizenship legally. This issue is too late and Dubya is doing nothing, with Perry helping him by doing even less.

I'm fed up. Deport them all, one at a time. After you've done it 20 million times, then we're done. Try it, then tell me it won't work. I don't believe we "can't." We can do anything we damned well please, and this is about the only thing that would please me now.

From October 2005 through September, the Mexican Consulate received 187 complaints of alleged workplace violations, officials said. Ninety-one were referred to the U.S. Department of Labor's Wage and Hour Division. Ten were sent on to the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission and 86 were forwarded to other agencies, including the Occupational Safety and Health Administration.

How many were referred to ICE? That's who should have gotten all 187 of the complaints. Don't like the workplace conditions here? Go back to Mexico, where you belong, you trespassers.

When is something going to be done about this revolving door? Not soon. Not until the republicans start listening to their base. Kinky, I hope you win. Maybe that will send the message we need our "leaders" (used in the broadest sense, and with as much derision as I can convey) to receive, but which they apparently are immune to hearing.

And so it begins

2006-11-01T19:06:00.000-06:00

Dems Already Starting Their Money-Wasting Investigations

Be ready for much more of the same if the dems take the house or senate.

What a colossal waste of time and energy this is! Clintoon set up NASA as an environmental watchdog, rather than the space agency it should be. No one complained. Bush tried to put it right, and the dems go on the attack.

I'm already disgusted, and they haven't even really begun yet.

Fineman Gets It Wrong

2006-11-01T18:45:00.000-06:00

Hey, Howard, here's why the 'pubs aren't following your advice:

the GOP and Bush might have highlighted, say, the rather successful (although budget-busting) program to provide prescription drugs through Medicare.

Here's the rub Howard. It's the conservatives who are angry, and this is NOT a good move, in our eyes. If this were emphasized, even more of us would jump ship.

They might have bragged more about the economy, which is not perfect by any means, but which in many ways has shaken off the effects of 9/11.

They have been bragging about this. It is your cohorts in the drive by media who have been hamstringing this horse. What good is blowing your own horn if the concert goers are not allowed to hear it? This is the fault of the partisan media, plain and simple. Were Clintoon still in office, we'd have front page article after front page article trumpeting the economy, like we had even though Clintoon and cronies sent the economy into a recession. Yes, I still remember that, Howard.

...a free trade bill with Central America....

Another thing you liberals apparently like, but we don't. We want the borders closed, not opened even further. This is a security issue. It matters not where we stand on the economy of this. The security aspect is perilling enough, and talking about open trade borders only reminds us of the open land-border. Nope... another non-GOP strong point to those of us who matter to them: their base.

...an energy policy (yes the one Dick Cheney hatched in secret) that includes at least some support for alternative energy options.

Another non-starter, Howard. No ANWAR drilling, and not enough balls to stand up and demand it from the do-nothing democrats. When did the Senate EVER make the dems back up their threats to filibuster? Never. Not once. This was the issue to do it with, and the GOP went eunuch on us. Nope. This is NOT a GOP strong point, except in the eyes of you liberals.

Bush and his allies could tout the establishment of national educational standards.

You mean Ted Kennedy's bill? Another GOP non-starter.

Howard, you should stick to writing about parks or flowers or something. Apparently you know nothing at all about conservative politics.

The Revolving Door is Still Working

2006-11-01T12:35:00.000-06:00

It took this scumbag less than one month to get back into the country:

Scumbag Illegal Raping and Pillaging

So, he is deported on December 12, and returns January 11th. I bet if he didn't want to spend holiday time with his family, and maybe rape a Mexican woman or two while south of the border, he would've been back even sooner.

Good thing he wasn't carrying nukes or biological weapons. Or was he? How would we know, since he came across illegally and without inspection.

I think it is well past time we closed the borders tightly. When the bad guys attack next time, you can be certain that most of them are here illegally, and came across the southern border. I have no idea why the politicians aren't listening. They must be making money off the open border. There is no other reason for them to ignore their responsibilities to protect the public from threats such as this.

Misadventures

2006-11-01T12:23:00.000-06:00

Well, I arrived in Bahrain two nights ago, shortly after midnight.

I went to the hotel bar, and sat at the bar. I ordered a beer, since they didn't have any good vodka. I finished it, and ordered a second beer.

From that point forward, I have no memory. I woke up around 7:30 PM the following day. My wallet was empty, and my baggage was rifled. I had not opened my baggage when I got in.

Nothing else was missing. I don't know if I have any credit card bills, or if I left the hotel. I have zero memory of anything after ordering the second beer. I think I was a victim of "rufies," the date rape drug. I can see how insidious that substance is. Were I a woman, I'd be wondering if I was sexually assaulted. I have absolutely no memory of anything at all. I understand these are the classic symptoms of rufies, but I really have no other experience to draw on.

All in all, things could have been much worse. I'm alive. I only lost cash (three hundred or so dollars, which isn't life-ending), and I still have my cameras and computer.

No... I was lucky. I hope I get $300 worth of experience out of this. I'll know to be more careful henceforth.

Let's keep our Priorities right, right?

2006-10-19T02:11:00.000-05:00

Graffiti law spells out responsibilities

Once again, I am left typeless (that's the cyber-equivalent of speechless). We have our hospital system collapsing, roads deteriorating, areas flooding, illegals setting up Mexico City Lite in Springbranch, and what does City Council concern itself with?

So far, today, it's been smoking and graffiti. Maybe they should read the article about "feeling good versus doing well."

Keep your eye on the ball folks. Finding ways to pay for more policemen (how about not buying uniforms for band members, for instance?) without raising taxes or any other of a multitude of city problems, is more important than this crap you're wasting your time with.

The Envelope, Please!

2006-10-19T01:36:00.000-05:00

Second "Big Duh Award" recipient of the day!

Airport Workers to be Screened, Too

Since we had some workers try to blow up ten or twenty planes coming to the US, I guess it's about time.

Hatfield says the new measures are being expanded to airports nationwide. "it's not because we have suspicions about the employees, but we know they represent a body of people that terrorists can hide among," he said.

Sources say that the London terror plot foiled in August prompted U.S. officials to ramp up security after United Kingdom officials disclosed that some of the men arrested were airport workers. Until today, airport workers in the U.S. only went through an initial background check in order to get hired.

"I understood that they went through security background checks, but now I feel a lot better knowing that they are being screened," said air traveler J.D. McGraw.

Here's another idea that might help foil some terrorists: Close the Borders to Smuggling, Contraband, and Trespassers.

What a concept, again!

Feeling Good Not So Important After All

2006-10-19T00:46:00.000-05:00

This one gets the "Big Duh Award."

Feeling Good Vs. Doing Well

US students do worse on math tests, but feel better about it. I'll feel good going over a collapsing bridge that at least the engineers feels like he did a good job, even though 40 deaths resulted from his miscalculations.

Working harder seems to mean better results. What a concept! I wonder if feeling good helps you get a better job. I bet that better test results tend to do that instead.

Pat Gray and other Smoking Nazis have a Victory

2006-10-18T13:45:00.000-05:00

City Council expands indoor smoking ban to most bars

Yep. Private property? What's that? I can't even comment on this again.

A Brief History Lesson for the Alvin ISD School Board

2006-10-18T00:47:00.000-05:00

Alvin ISD stands by its ban on Rebel flag

A few of the "old timers" might remember a while back when I posted on LST regarding the events that led to the "War of Northern Aggression."

I am a southerner, born and bred. I had an uncle who used to fly his Confederate Flag in Richmond, Virginia on special holidays. I often wondered why a wealthy lawyer would do such a hateful thing. So, I started trying to find out what really happened to cause the American Civil War. He had one of the largest personal collections of Civil War Memorabilia I had ever seen.

Anyway, I'm going to re-create my earlier post. I wish there were some way I could get it from the archives of LST...

Anyway, let's go over this one more time... for posterity:

The War of Northern Aggression was not about slavery. Sure, slavery as an economic institution was part of the cause. However, in today's schools, slavery is taught as if it were racist. Slavery is neither racist nor non-racist. It is one human being of one class claiming ownership of another human being.

So, slavery, itself, is NOT racist. Black slavery, as practiced in the south was both racist and economic. It was the economics of the situation that led to the south seceding from the Union (not trying to take it over; therefore it was not a "civil war," but a War of Southern Secession or a War of Northern Aggression). Slavery played nearly zero part in it, if you omit its economic content.

So, if it the current school topic of "Civil War was about freeing black Slaves" is demonstrably false, what was its cause?

Here's where the history lesson starts:

You have to go all the way back to 1776 and the adoption of the Declaration of Independence. The problem was that the way it was originally written, the Black Slaves would have been considered citizens and free men. The States whose revenue depended on cheap (not free) labor could not allow this. It would destroy their economies. This means no money, no food, no nothing. Having no money will cause you to get hungry very quickly. This was not a racial decision. It was an economic decision.

Therefore, the original Declaration of Independence was edited to omit any real mention of slavery.

Next comes the Constitution for the United States of America. These are the Laws the Federal Government is supposed to follow. They don't, but that's fodder for another discussion.

When writing the Constitution, Madison (my favorite founding father; Jefferson is a very close second) had to do something to get all the States to ratify it. This caused the 3/5th's compromise and the slavery compromise being established.

(Three-fifth's Compromise language: "Representatives and direct Taxes shall be apportioned among the several States which may be included within this Union, according to their respective Numbers, which shall be determined by adding to the whole Number of free Persons, including those bound to Service for a Term of Years, and excluding Indians not taxed, three fifths of all other Persons."

(Slave Trade Compromise (Article I, Section 9) The Migration or Importation of such Persons as any of the States now existing shall think proper to admit, shall not be prohibited by the Congress prior to the Year one thousand eight hundred and eight, but a Tax or duty may be imposed on such Importation, not exceeding ten dollars for each Person.)

So, 3/5ths for taxation (money) and representation (power). No more new slaves starting in 1808 (Compromise). I'm not talking the morality of slavery, here, I'm talking the economics, both financially and politically. Note that the indians don't even get a nod and a wink. They're aced out altogether. I guess chattel must be better than savage in human pack heirarchy.

We've now got a disagreement that's been codified into law. The north is becoming industrialized, while the south has an agriculture-based economy. The south needs slaves, the north needs raw materials. At this point, there are no winners in the battle for power in the Federal Government. So far, it is a draw.

So, in 1798, the Federal Government passed the Alien and Sedition acts of 1798. These, in and of themselves, weren't directly responsible for anything, except some interesting laws passed in Kentucky and Virginia, in response.

The author of the Kentucky Resolution was Thomas Jefferson. He's the guy who wrote the Declaration of Independence. The author of the Virginia Resolution was James Madison. He's the one who wrote the Constitution for the United States of America.

So, these were two of the main guys who set up the machine that's supposedly still in use today. I'd say that they were pretty much authorities on what the Constitution and America meant at the time of their institution.

What did they say? Well, pretty much they said that the Federal Government was overstepping its bounds, and that the States had rights that were being infringed with such an act as the Alien and Sedition Acts, and that each State could decide if the Federal Government ever did anything that was beyond its scope. After all, they reasoned, the Federal Government was a construct of the States, and therefore ultimately inferior to the States. Right?

Now, the fight between the Federalists and the "Anti-Federalists" really starts. A more accurate description would be "...between the Federalists and States' Rights proponents" but the victor gets to write the history, so the name "Anti-federalist" sticks.

Next comes "nullification." Nullification was the State's way of saying, "Nope, Federal Government, you aren't allowed to do that. I made you. You can't tell me what to do." This concept was very big in the South. The north, who was benefiting from the economic (financial, money, moolah) burden placed on the south with tariffs on raw materials thought this nullification stuff wasn't such a great idea, but more on that later.

1816 saw the Congress pass a protectionist tariff, protecting northern manufacturing against cheaper external goods. This was their first try. They get better at it. Note that if the north is benefitting, the south must therefore be getting the proverbial short end of the stick. The north gets more income; the south pays higher prices.

The Missouri Compromise did deal with slavery. Basically, it balanced the South's political power with the North's political power within the Federal Government.
There were several versions of it, but basically, it was a stall tactic that just caused matters to simmer.

Keep your eye on the ball here. We're talking money and power, not human servitude.

In 1824, the north got another tariff through to law. They banded with the West to set up larger tariffs and to include more raw materials. Note that the south produced raw materials (foreign clients) while the north produced finished goods (domestic clients). Foreign tariffs helped the north and hurt the south. But, this being only their second try, the north goes for even a bigger piece of the pie in 1828.

The Tariff of Abominations was the last straw, metaphorically speaking. The south found that they couldn't sell their cotton any more. The British threatened to go elsewhere for cheaper product. The south was already barely covering the cost of producing cotton, so no more price decreases were possible. The north's tax was the culprit. The south was, at this time, paying about 87% of the cost of the federal government, with the north getting most of the benefits.

Since the South was getting financially hammered by the North's actions in the Federal Government, they passed the "Nullification Act" in South Carolina. Basically, it said, "We can decide which federal laws we have to follow, and which ones step over the line." I won't go into the wisdom (or lack thereof) of this act, but it definitely was a resounding shot across the bow of the Federal Ship of State.

South Carolina raised the stakes in 1832 by authorizing force (read "army and navy") to prevent the Federal Government from enforcing the Tariff of Abominations of 1828. The pot was fairly boiling over here. Note that slavery is only peripherally connected to the larger power and money issues. The north was being enriched (Peter) by the sacrifices of the south (Paul, after robbing him). Of course Peter was happy with the events. Peter, the North, then passed the Force Bill of 1833, setting up a federal response to any State military action.

Is this when Lincoln "freed" the slaves? No? Then why is everyone so angry already, if the cause of the War of Northern Aggression was caused by slavery? Oh, maybe it ISN'T a racial issue after all?

All unbalanced schemes eventually come to an end (reference dot com and ENRON for examples), and so did this. In 1837, hoping to end spurious speculation in land due to too much money in too few hands, Jackson screwed up with the Specie Circular (devaluing money tends to have that effect), dropping the bottom out of the over-priced real estate market. Here's the secret: Less money with the same number of people means less money per person. More people are going to lose money than gain money when you do it. Pity that Bush the First didn't know about this when he dropped the bottom out of the Real Estate market in the 1980's. I digress.

So, now we have a broke south, and a recently broke north. No one really has any money, which means quite a few people who weren't extremely happy. Not a good sign, if you just had near secession and near internecine war just a few years earlier.

To get the Compromise of 1850 passed, Clay set up the Fugitive Slave Act. This required penalties and return of property if slaves were to be helped or caught, respectively. It also admitted a free State, ending legislative balance, which was already tilted greatly in the North's favor.

Again, I digress.

People like to mention Manifest Destiny right here, but it was really a byplay, and not germaine to the development of the United States, except perhaps as an academic nature. It was the reason people gave for doing what they did, but the real reason was money and power.

The Kansas-Nebraska acts were another aside, but it's interesting to note that the battle was between pro-black-slavery forces and anti-black-immigration forces. That's right... one side wanted to own the blacks, while the other wanted to exclude them from the State altogether.

Most settlers who had come to Kansas from the North and the South only wanted to homestead in peace. They were not interested in the conflict over slavery, but they found themselves in the midst of a battleground. Violence erupted throughout the territory. Southerners were driven by the rhetoric of leaders such as David Atchison, a Missouri senator. Atchison proclaimed the Northerners to be "negro thieves" and "abolitionist tyrants." He encouraged Missourians to defend their institution "with the bayonet and with blood" and, if necessary, "to kill every God-damned abolitionist in the district."

The northerners, however, were not all abolitionists as Atchison claimed. In fact, abolitionists were in the minority. Most of the Free State settlers were part of a movement called Free Soil, which demanded free territory for free white people. They hated slavery, but not out of concern for the slaves themselves. They hated it because plantations took over the land and prevented white working people from having their own homesteads. They hated it because it brought large numbers of black people wherever it went. The Free Staters voted 1,287 to 453 to outlaw black people, slave or free, from Kansas. Their territory would be white.

I'm guessing this part isn't mentioned much in school. Remember, it clashes with the Slavery v. Abolitionist model they have been teaching for at least 50 years.

Harper's Ferry and Dred Scott were battles being fought about slavery, but neither really caused the south to secede. Since the south won both of these issues, why would they become angry and secede, now that things were finally starting to go their way?

In 1857, an interesting thing occurred. It was the panic of 1857, and named appropriately. The British lacked confidence in our ability to regulate our securities when a large firm folded due to embezzlement.

Well, when a lot of folks lose a lot of money very quickly, they tend to buy less. The less they buy, the lower the price on the goods becomes. Better to get 10 cents on a pound this week, than to have a pound of rotten merchandise to throw away next week.

Next to collapse were the railroads with their speculative nature. Folks needed the funds, now, and pulled out their investments for liquid assets. Said investments, the heavily over-valued railroad industry, collapsed. Thousands were left holding the collective bag, which at this point pretty much held worthless land and a lot of debt, and not much else.

Strangely, the South came through this relatively unscathed. Those already nearly destitute didn't get much more destitute by not losing speculative investments they had not made. The north, though, was burned royally. The scene of jubilation in the south was undoubtedly, "How do you like it, Northie? Hertz Donut?"

I see farmers not being too sympathetic, over all, in my view, to the city slickers who had been spanking the south for thirty years got a little comeuppance. In fact, they probably did the 1857 equivalent of "In your face! Our system works better! Score board!" toward their northern neighbors. I would think such taunting would not be likewise enjoyed by the recipients. A great hatred had grown and blossomed.

So, now everyone's hurting financially. The south is just enjoying it a bit more than earlier. Something about misery and company comes to mind. Again, I digress.

Jefferson Davis, on his departure from the US Senate upon the secession of Mississippi from the Union of the United States of America said it probably best:

Secession belongs to a different class of remedies. It is to be justified upon the basis that the States are sovereign. There was a time when none denied it. I hope the time may come again, when a better comprehension of the theory of our Government, and the inalienable rights of the people of the States, will prevent any one from denying that each State is a sovereign, and thus may reclaim the grants which it has made to any agent whomsoever.

In other words, the States gave the Federal Government some of their power when they joined, and they were able to take the power back onto themselves by dissolving the union.

How did the Federal Government react to this diplomatic, peaceful resolution to the insufferable differences between the agrarian and industrial states? Why, they sent a letter to South Carolina, the same South Carolina who had passed a resolution to enforce their laws with force, if need be. What was in this letter? Why, just a notice that "we're sending supplies and reinforcements to Fort Sumter, in your sovereign territory."

You see, at this time, South Carolina no longer considered itself a part of the United States of America. Now, a foreign power was sending military materiél onto their territory. What were they to do? Well, they said they'd use force if something like this was tried. So, they defended their territory from this aggression. How did they defend it? They took over their land from the Federal inhabitants.

That's right. Their land. Part of the agreement was land like this to the Federal Government. Said agreement had been nullified, due to the unfair acts passed on the south by the north over the years.

Here's a short version of the confrontation at Fort Sumter.

SC: Hey, Sumter! Get off of our land!
Sumter: No can do. I've got stuff here. Let me use up all my stuff first.
SC: No way. Git!
Sumter" Piss off!

This then deteriorated further until actual shooting occurred. This defense of their sovereignity is what the northern aggressors call "Firing on Fort Sumter." I call it "trying to get trespassers off your land." You can draw your own conclusions. The issue comes down to "where does the federal government get its power?" The Confederate States of America said the people gave the power to the State Government, and the Federal Government got its power from the States. The Federal government says its power comes directly from the people, but it was formed by the States and besides, where does this leave the States, but in a subservient role?

There was money and power at stake here. The north was already hurting, and now, with the South not around to pay the freight, what were they to do? Get real jobs? Not them. They started a War, to force the South back into servitude.

Oh, yeah. About this point, Lincoln said, "Since we're screwing them anyway, let's get rid of most of their property by declaring it free. That oughta sow dissention down there, don't you think?" and issued the emancipation proclamation. Yeah, AFTER the shooting had started, and long after anything that really had to do with slavery was really in dispute.

If the south had won the War of Northern Aggression, then my version above would be more of the version you'd read in the history books.

Oh, and by the way, slavery would still be outlawed and blacks would still be free and equal in society, but I can only prove that by the fact that every other State that has abolished slavery has done so in a peaceful manner.

Lazy Man's Guide to Eating

2006-10-17T01:09:00.000-05:00

Women should not read any further. To do so, you accept, at your own risk, any problems that may come with the following information.

Let's face it, guys. We're lazy.

Do you think that the remote control would ever have been invented if women were in charge? Of course not.

So, we have to admit that we're fundamentally lazy. As long as we get food, TV, "company," and alcohol, we're pretty much fulfilled.

The problem obviously becomes "food." Now, we can find companionship that will do the food part for us, but then we're stuck with said companionship for the foreseeable future. This is a dilemma in and of itself, which will be dealt with in future pieces. Or not.

Anyway, we need some cheap, easy, foolproof way to fend for ourselves in the food department. Here's where I come in. I'm the world's best lazy-man chef ever invented.

First off... get a crock pot. You don't have a crock pot? And you call yourself "lazy?!" Puh-lease!

A crock pot is God's way of making cooking foolproof. No, really. You can even leave for the weekend, and when you get back, you're just out of one hard-to-clean-now crockpot. But they're cheap.

OK.. Since you don't yet have a crockpot, let me tell you what to look for. At a minimum, it should have a power cord. Yep... That's it. Dials and knobs just increase the complexity. The problem is, you can only find small (like 1 quart, which is similar to one liter, for you metricicians out there). I needed the word "metricician," so I made it up.

OK, you now have a crockpot. If it has a dial, it has, at most, three positions. This is really best, because medium is never a wrong setting for a crockpot.

Most crockpots, though, have no medium setting. You are then forced to either low or high. One warning... you should never leave the crockpot on high. Put it on low, if in doubt. Anyway, the longer you leave it on high (maximum, 3 hours), the better, but don't go beyond three hours before you do low... and low must run at least twice the time that high runs. I don't know why this is, but it is crockpot law.

Anyway, you now have a crockpot, and a propensity for leaving it on low forever, which is a good thing.

Now, add broth to the crockpot until it is about half-way full. Broth can be purchased in most grocery stores. It is best to get the pop-top cans (easy, and cheaper, believe it or not). Pop several until the crockpot is half full. Yes, you'll have to pour them in to make if full, but if you can't figure that out, you should be eating at McDonald's again, anyway.

Those little bags of Ramen noodles are ideal for men. They can be had for about 8 cents each, if you look around hard enough. NEVER pay more than 6 for a dollar for these things. Flavor doesn't matter, because we're going to throw out the flavor packet, anyway.

OK... So, a trip to Wal-Mart or Kay Rogers (Kroger's real name) yields you a dozen or so ramen bags and lots of beef and chicken broth. Beef broth, chicken broth, cream of chicken, cream of mushroom, and similar items can never be purchased enough. These are like "flavor" without the package. I buy the low-sodium and "Healthy Request" types of soup, because I get migraines and have to avoid some additives, but it works out in my favor, anyway. They can be more expensive, but doctor's bills haven't gone down much recently, either.

We've now got a crockpot that's been plugged in for up to a half hour (amazing how you really can't hurt these things without completely forgetting them), some broth, cream-of's, or similar soups...

And a batch of ramen noodles.

Now, grab any of the following. Please be aware that any of them will do, so buy the one that's on sale, the next time you visit your favored grocer:

Beef Links (Eckerd Sausage, or similar)

Hot links (A bit spicier, and lots more fat)

Chicken Breast (this stuff can be had for like $1.99 a pound, if you look for it)

Some other kind of meat you like (don't use GOOD meat, like T-Bone or other grillable steak meat. You're going to boil it, which makes it tender. Grab the cheap stuff that doesn't have bones.)

OK... cut it up into pieces you wouldn't mind having in your mouth. How small is that? Depends on your age and your mouth. Typically, size grows inversely with your age. They get smaller as they cook, so do "just below tolerable" mouth size, and after cooking, they'll be even more tolerable.

Anyway, cut it up. Pour broth or cream-of into the crock pot. (Cream-of's require water in equal proportion, so add a can of water for every condensed cream-of you add)

Add meat. Get about 3/4 full. Cover it. Go to work or out to play, depending on the day of the week.

If you used chicken broth or cream of chicken, then use chicken, turkey, any fowl, or any white meat, such as fish or pork.

If you used beef broth or cream of mushroom, then use beef or other red meat, such as deer, bear, ostrich, emu, or similar.

Maybe you should make the meat decision before the broth decision, but you need to do the broth first when you cook it in the crockpot.

When you get home, add the ramen noodles, until the crock pot is like 7/8ths full. How many packages is that? I don't know. Look at your crockpot size. That's what matters.

Do you like vegetables? Too bad. You have to add them anyway. The good thing is that pretty much any vegetable you like will work, except the leafy (spinach, kale, etc.) vegetables. Add some bag-frozen vegetables. These are vegetables that come in plastic bags, not boxes, in the freezer section of the store. It doesn't matter what kind, as long as you'll eat them without throwing up.

Put the cover back on, with the vegetables added, then change clothes, turn on the TV, check your personal email, or whatever you do when you get home.

One half to one hour later, eat whatever's in the pot. It's done.

To recap:

Turn on crock pot on high (up to two hours or so) or low (if you're prone to forget)

Put in cans of broth or "cream-ofs" until the pot is half full. (Cream-of's come in concentrates, so add them to one quarter of the crockpot size, then bring up to one-half of the crockpot with water. Stir it some, if you do this.)

Add some kind of meat, until pot is about 3/4 full, or so.

Cover crock pot.

Make sure crock pot setting is on "Low."

Leave for work.

Come home.

Add vegetables that don't make you gag when you taste them. Little chunks of veggies are better; corn, peas, or carrots, but anything you can stomach will suffice.

Add noodles until pot is about 7/8th's full. Put lid back on.

Do stuff for an hour or so.

Eat stuff in crockpot.

They're Not All Going Negative

2006-10-17T00:46:00.000-05:00

"Candidates go negative to rally bases"
Subtitled: Gubernatorial ads aim less at foes, more toward firing up backers, observers say

So, reading the article, one can see that Lawyer, TenNames, and Goodhair are all doing the negative, to get their "bases" riled up.

Kinky isn't. This part is glossed over. For whatever reason, only one candidate is taking the high road. "I've told 'em what I think. Let them make up their own minds," seems to be his thrust.

One more point in Kinky's favor. Things aren't looking good for a TenNames vote from me.

Experiment Complete

2006-10-17T00:23:00.000-05:00

Well, the previous post took my T-Shirt contest off the front page, so I'm declaring it officially at an end.

Apparently, mentioning something on LST has a great effect on the hits to the article.

Anyway, Squawk gets the second shirt. That's three or four shirts I need to bring to the next BHH. I need to get in touch with the LST proprietors about... um.. "other things."

Much Ado About Nothing?

2006-10-17T00:18:00.000-05:00

Harry Reid Questioned About Donations

So, is this for real, or just smoke?

There are a zillion federal campaign regulations. Did Reid (D) step over the bounds, or is this just a hit piece on him?

Did anyone else notice that an election is coming up? Why are all these hit pieces being written now? Because it's the best way to make national news.

There's some smoke here, but I don't see any fire. Reid apparently has had an accountant inserted in his butt to root out any wrong-doing. Apparently he found a little... but that's what accountants do. Reid has attempted to correct the problems. What more is he to do?

I'm not a Reid fan, but I hate stuff that is so blatantly political, as is this piece. This should not have made it past the editor's desk.