Monday, August 25, 2014
A 6.0 earthquake hit Napa, California yesterday. Old buildings crumbled, folks were thrown out of bed and inventory wound up on the floors of convenience stores and restaurants throughout that portion of our Once-Golden State.
But I have a feeling that most of the glass that fell and broke yesterday was filled with Dom Perignon. And most of the bottles of wine that fell and broke at the 800+ wineries in the area were library examples of their very expensive, older $250 wines. Only. Just the very expensive ones broke, don't you know. It works that way when you're getting ready to fill out your insurance claim.
In fact, I'd say there's a better than even chance that more Opus One fell and broke yesterday than Opus One has ever made. Why?
My guess is that only about 12 older farmers, the ones who put Napa on the map, still remain. The rest of the winery owners are Hollywood movie producers and directors and Bay-area hedge fund managers. They're the only ones who can afford to buy those expensive vineyards and wineries. Example? A smallish 3 bed, two bath home in Napa and environs is $1 Million Plus. Too rich for normal folks. So the moguls are the only ones who can afford to be here and the only ones who will know how to make a natural disaster such as this pay off. And BIG!
I would predict that within the next day or two the Golfer-in-Chief will declare Napa and the surrounding area a Natural Disaster. Why? That's because he's come here and scooped up millions on multiple occasions over the past few years from the socialist billionaires who own and operate this town. That will mean the Treasury Department will go into overtime-mode and print up, oh, I don't know, maybe about $41.5 Billion Dollars and ship it out to Central California.
Therefore, I predict that the only people who will take it in the shorts are the little guys who couldn't afford and didn't have insurance. Even so, it will be the insurance companies who will wind up buying the wine that fell on the floor.
What then? Natural Disasters equal big losses to insurance companies, which will then send off an email to the Treasury Secretary, who will give them a no-interest loan to restoke their coffers, which Barry will then unilaterally forgive with a stroke of his famous pen at some point in the future. Maybe just before he vacates the Oval Office. So the wineries will get repaid up-front by the Feds, and then again via loans to expand, and the insurance companies will smile as well. Not bad, huh?
So, those wineries who were on the fence, just barely making it from the sale of their $100 bottles of Cab Sauvignon, will reap a windfall. And those businesses who weren't protected will wind up having to cash out and move out. They'll then have to sell their properties to the billionaires, enabling them to consolidate their holdings to even more of Napa. See how this whole capitalism - peppered with crony Progressive Liberalism - works?
I thought you would...
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
You'll recall that our President, one Mr. B. Hussein Obama, took the time out of his suuuuper busy schedule to call one Mr. Michael Sam and congratulate him for coming out as, ahem, gay.
You know about Mr. Sam, don't you? He's the Missouri University football player who was drafted in the, oh, 92nd round or something, of the NFL draft by the Los Angeles Rams.
Oooooopsie! Exsqueeeeze me! The St. Louis Rams. It's hard to keep up when these billionaires keep moving their teams around all willy-nilly, right?
Yes, Mr. Obama had enough time in his otherwise very, very busy schedule of playing golf, appearing at fundraisers and playing footsie with JaayZeee and his lovely wife Beeeyonce to contact Mr. Sam and let him know just how proud he was that Sam was gay. Hmmmm.
But somehow that same Mr. Obama couldn't find time in his very busy schedule over the past 120 or so days to pick up his famous phone that apparently obviates the need for the Congress of the United States of America and put in a call to one Mr. Nieto, Meheeeeko's president, and ask him to intercede on behalf of our hero Marine, Sergeant Andrew Tahmoreesi.
That's the guy, you'll recall, that after having served two tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, and coming home with a bad case of PTSD, made a wrong turn one night and wound up in Meheeeeeko.
All would have been just fine that lovely evening had our Marine sergeant not had three legally registered guns in his truck.
Let me state that again: The three guns were legally bought here in America, legally registered here in America and legally owned here in America. The fact that he had them with him was because he had just been transferred to San Diego from Texas to receive medical treatment. And the fact they were there was enough for Meheeeeeko's corrupt border goons to handcuff him, throw him in the clink, tie him to his bunk, torture him, break his jaw and more or less toss away the key.
Since then our sergeant has hired attorney after attorney to try and end his Meheeeeeeko "vacation" and come home to America. Up to now, no luck. They just won't accept his explanation that he took a wrong turn and he really wasn't trying to run three whole guns to Meheeeeeeeeko (please note: I've missed the same turn twice myself; it's easy to do).
Three whole guns! I mean, he wasn't running guns like our own Maxi-me Attorney General Eric Holder, who hired more than 3,000 "assault rifles," whatever they are, paid for with our Stimulus Program funds, slow-walked over the border and directly into the hands of Meheeeeeeeeko's drug cartels. And one of those guns, you'll recall, was used by one of our fun-loving neighbor's to the south to kill Brian Terry, one of our border guards.
Let me say that again. Our admittedly-activist, and proud of it, and Black, and proud of it, Top Cop gave guns we paid for to criminal drug gangs so that, the thinking goes, one or more or them would be found at a crime scene here in America, forcing our low-information voters into abolishing the 2nd Amendment. If you're gonna' try and take over America it would be a good idea to disarm the redneck savages first.
Unfortunately, the crime scene involved one of our own sworn agents. And then the uproar started. Our corrupt media was no longer able to keep the story under wraps. Karma's a bitch.
So Tahmoreesi is in limbo. Actually, limbo would be a far, far better place to be than the graybar prison in Tecate, Meheeeeeeeko where he finds himself. Maxi-me has still not been arrested for his multitudinous crimes (I wonder if he ever shall?). And Mr. "You can keep your doctor - you can keep your insurance!" Obama is still playing golf and hosting fundraisers and partying with Black stars on our borrowed millions.
So what's my plan to finally end this deeply shameful and embarrassing chapter for the Obama Administration? Actually, one of many deeply shameful and embarrassing chapters for the Obama Administration? I mean, my solution, besides never, ever traveling to Meheeeeeeeeeeeeeko again? Ever! Here it is....
Andrew has to come out of the closet and proclaim that he's proudly gay!
Then, Mr. Obama will be compelled to call not only our long-suffering sergeant with his heartfelt congratulations, but Prez Nieto and demand, demand that he be released.
We know he'll have to do that. Remember when he called Jason Collins to congratulate him on being gay? He's the guy who came out as the first gay pro basketball player. He was so feted and celebrated that he wound up as one of Time Magazine's 2014 "Most Influential 100 People in America." It seems if you're just an average roundball player, or maybe just an average football player, coming out as gay is the key to hitting the big time! Ticker tape parades! Calls from the Golfer-in-Chief! Your picture on the cover of a dying, piece-of-crap, lefty magazine!
And this just in, our TelePrompTer-in-Chief interrupted his 186th round of golf in Martha's Vineyard, the self-described "Whitest Place in America," where he was playing with Ahmad Rashad and Ray Allen (who pays these greens fees, I wonder?), to provide a video welcome and congratulations in the kick-off to the "Gay Games." Yes friends, the Gay Games, begun in 1982, recently opened in Cleveland and our Vacationer-in-Chief felt both obligated and honored to help open it. Is there any doubt in your feeble mind that Andrew would be out by nightfall if he "came out?"
What do you think of my plan? If you think it might work, be sure to call Organizing for America, Mr. B. Hussein Obama's never-ending, permanent election campaign outfit that sends you email after email begging you for $3 for a chance to have a burger and a beer with "You-Know-Who," and pass along my suggestion.
Oh, almost forgot. To make absolutely certain our Community Organizer-in-Chief has to act, and act NOW, I suggest that Andrew also play the "race card" made so famous by those poverty pimps Jessuh Jackson and Al Sharpton. In addition to being gay, he should also proclaim, loudly, that he is both partially Black, and a little bit Native American! Then, our Maxi-Me Attorney General will launch himself into rapid action, start a DOJ official investigation, and give a speech on the need for reparations so that all of "his people" finally get paid off for the suffering they endured 400 years ago.
No thanks is necessary. It's why God put me here...
Friday, August 8, 2014
As you've no doubt heard, the Obama Administration has permitted more than 62,000 illegal alien (mostly) children to cross our southern border so far this year and give themselves up to our Border Patrol.
They've come, they say, although there's no independent way to be sure, from Central American countries such as Guatemala, Honduras and El Salvador.
Most are children and they're escaping wars, famine, pestilence, rape, pillaging, murdering, plundering, crappy food and who knows what other kind of nasty stuff. They're delivering that spiel, they say, because that's what they've been told to say by the "coyotes" when the Border Patrol asks them why they've just illegally broken into our country.
And then B. Hussein Obama and Company orders the Border Patrol to make them PB and J sandwiches, change their diapers and arrange to disperse them far and wide, without permission, all across America.
Now, we know that this wave of illegals was forecast many months ago. The Department of Homeland Security asked for bids this past January from companies interested in providing "escort services" for as many as...ready for it?...62,000 unaccompanied minors to cross over this summer. So trying to say they were not expecting this onslaught with a straight face is simply impossible, even from the gang of, ahem, thieves infesting our White House.
But God knows they try.
So, dozens, even hundreds, of "little kids" are being sent to unsuspecting neighborhoods all throughout our country. However, some of these little kids are 17 or 18 and have "MS-13" tattoos on their foreheads (?).
They're flown in, or bused in, or dropped in by parachute, or even sneaked in via 10-passenger vans under cover of darkness so as not to raise suspicion. And the residents of those recipient cities are expected to feed them, and clothe them, and house them, and educate them, and even take care of their healthcare...all without reimbursement of any kind from any source.
Need some proof? The Chuckmeister lives right next door to Murrieta, Taxifornia, where B. Hussein Obama ordered busloads of illegal aliens to be delivered and offloaded on multiple occasions without advance notice of any kind. Only because of citizens standing in the road and forming a human barricade did this nefarious plan die aborning.
Think of it: Small towns struggling to barely make it, fighting to make ends meet in the face of a horrendous recession, unable to pass new school bonds because their citizens are dead broke, now having to take on the job of caring for another country's major export: its poor. And to make sure the bad news is being spread fairly, the first plane load of illegal "migrants" just landed in Hawaii. What kind of crap is that?
And worse yet, Mr. and Mrs. America, we don't know squat about them. No birth certificates. No school report cards. No shot records. No nothing.
We don't know if, or when, they've been vaccinated, or against what. But we do know that diseases which have been eradicated here at home decades ago are still flourishing in Central and South America. Measles, mumps, scabies, pin and round worms, polio, whooping cough, chicken pox, tuberculosis and who knows what else? And in a matter of weeks these kids, almost none of whom speak English, and many who don't even speak Spanish, speaking rather a polyglot patois of an unknown language, are going to be seated in our classrooms, replete with an interpreter per classroom as required by law (!), on our dollar, actually millions of them, and educated right alongside our kids. Kids, I might add, which we cannot send to school without proof that they've been vaccinated and are safe from communicable diseases. And our teachers cannot refuse to teach them. And our kids cannot refuse to be seated next to them. This is super scary stuff.
Think of it. There's a fair number of countries in the Middle East that hate us and wish us dead. With extreme prejudice. It wouldn't take a jihadist rocket surgeon to convince an African from Liberia, or Nigeria, or Wisteria, or Plumeria, or wherever, anxious to meet up with his virgins a bit early, to arrange to get infected with the Ebola virus, which has an incubation rate of up to three weeks and a kill rate of over 90%, and then hop aboard a flight to, say, Tijuana. They walk, actually saunter, or wade, or maybe skip across the border and viola, an Ebola epidemic isn't there, it's here!
I predict that just about the time the leaves begin to turn colors this fall we could well have outbreaks of communicable diseases all over America. And we could well have shortages of vaccines to treat them. Vaccines that, in some cases, no longer even exist.
Friends, this might be a good time to consider home schooling your kids. If mine weren't already through that process I'd be seriously cogitating on that possibility forthwith.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. Two of my daughters are school teachers with little kids of their own. And two of their husbands teach also. What are they supposed to do? What are we supposed to do? And why, I ask, has this been allowed to happen?
Prepare yourselves. The worst might be just around the next corner...
Friday, August 1, 2014
We all know there's a slice of the Department of Justice, overseen by that paragon of good governance one Mr. Eric Holder, B. Hussein Obama's Maxi-Me, who's been given the challenge of managing Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.
That bureau is a kind of a mixed bag of items, wouldn't you say. Alcohol you drink, tobacco you smoke, and, ummm, firearms you shoot? Maybe after having consumed some alcohol and tobacco?
How did these three things get lumped together into one bureau? Wouldn't you think that alcohol and tobacco should be under the FDA or the Department of Agriculture? And firearms might be a better fit in the Department of the Army. But hey there's one more item in this chunk of the DOJ: Explosives.
So you pick up a sixer of Bud, a couple of packs of Marlboros, a Glock 9mm and some extra ammo. Oh, and about $500 worth of good, old fashioned fireworks.
And after doing so one could reasonably ask...
Why isn't Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATFE) a convenience store?