Yes, fellow Pilgrims, there are two kinds of people. There are the people who divide folks into two different kinds, and then there's the other kind...
Heh, heh...
However, there really are two different kinds of people: those with guns, and those without guns.
If you want one, you buy one.
If you don't, you don't.
That's pretty simple, right? Simple enough even for the legions of commie pinko dumbass socialist liberal anti-gun weenies, who believe that if they don't like it, you shouldn't be able to buy it!
How "Progressive" of them...
And the battle between these two forces of nature has played out for decades now. Those who enjoy guns, and want guns, and use guns, and need guns to feed their families, and to protect themselves, and who are Constitutionally permitted to keep them and bear them, do so.
As in, the absolute, individual, immutable, inviolable, non-cancellable, Constitutional guarantee of that Right.* Got it?
And those who hate guns, and don't want you to have one, adamantly believe that all gun stores everywhere should be closed, and that all guns everywhere should be confiscated. And that no one, anywhere, should be permitted to obtain one. Except maybe the military. And maybe some police. And a few bodyguards to the stars. Maybe...
Therein lay a problem. There are more than 100 million gun owners in America. And they own 429.5 million guns** And the vast majority of them are not going to give up their guns to anyone, for any reason, ever. And anyone who tries to take their guns will meet with resistance.
And that resistance just might arrive at about 2,800 feet per second.
And those without the guns will continue to rail against them...until a national crisis occurs. Like the one in which we now find ourselves. And then some of them, maybe most of them, will hurry on down to the local gun store and try to buy one. Just like that which has occurred over the past few weeks. And then they'll be amazed to find out Their "hoplophobia" (look it up) will have thus been cured. We're seeing that unfold today, as we watch.
Hypocritical much?
Good luck to them. Better late than never, I'd say. But be sure to learn how to use one safely. Find someone with firearms experience to educate you. Just like the National Rifle Association advises...
But I have the feeling that this whole thing might get a bit "sketchy." There exists a real possibility that some civil disorder may be in our immediate future, especially if we suffer shortages of food instead of toilet paper. And that we should be individually prepared to confront it. Individually. That means you and me. Just remember, when seconds count, the police are only minutes away...
The best bet for these anti-gun types would be to try and make friends with a gun owner and move into his/her/its garage. Along with your toilet paper. And your gallons of hand sanitizer. Maybe you can swap some of that hoarded Charmin for a little protection...
* SCOTUS, "District of Columbia v. Heller," 2010.
** FBI statistics, October, 2019.
Thursday, April 30, 2020
Monday, April 27, 2020
The (Un)friendly Skies...
To get your mind, and mine, off our National Crisis, I thought I'd dredge up an old set of memories and put "pen to digital paper," sort of, to try and keep you entertained. And you certainly need some of that, now don't you?
To wit: You may have noticed that our airlines have pretty much all shut down. Good, I say. Who needs 'em? I don't. I've had all the airplanes in my life I'm likely to need, and believe I can make a good case for others to simply avoid this form of transportation as well.
Need to go someplace? Drive. Or, just stay home. "Shelter in place," as the commie pinko weenies among us so proudly advise. Otherwise, you just might subject yourselves to all sorts of maniacal transgressions. Why am I so worked up about airlines? Read on, fellow Patriot...
I first started flying on business back in the early 1970's. I was named international sales and marketing manager by a succession of medical device and pharmaceutical manufacturers and I had to spread the word, all around the world. And I did.
Of course, that involved hopping on a never-ending succession of airplanes to do it. And I did. Starting in about '73, I spent the next six years averaging a plane a day. From my home base in St. Louis, I traveled everywhere. I visited 49 states, 161 major American cities and 37 countries. And that takes a lot of flying.
Don't know why I never made it to North Dakota. Oh well...
In short, my entire existence consisted of hurtling across the sometimes unfriendly skies at 500 miles an hour in aluminum tubes filled with folks who needed to be someplace else. However, those "folks" were most often business executives dressed in suits and ties. And 25 year-old stewerardess-es in short skirts. Not a bad thing at all...
But flying back then wasn't the same as flying is now. Back then, all the planes were new, and so were the stewardess-es-es (what they were called before "me too"). The planes were all bright and shiny and clean. The stews were all beautiful and friendly. And being a friendly sort myself, I often engaged in friendly visitations of the 4th Kind with only the finest looking of those aforementioned friendly stews.
As often as possible, I'm happy to say...
And the planes all took off half full. Since this was pre-deregulation, the price of tickets was fixed by some bozo in a green eye shade in a basement somewhere in Washington, D.C. Which, because they were high priced, posed a disincentive for all but bizz-types and the wealthy to fly. Example: it cost $405 in '73 dollars for a round-trip ticket from LAX to NYC back then. That was more than 40 years ago. And a round-trip ticket today costs...mucho less.
So we all had lots of choices as to where to sit. And the seats were big and roomy and comfortable. And clean. There was plenty of seat room. And leg room. And stowage room. You didn't like your seat? You just got up and changed it. Food? The food was actually good. Or, at least fairly good. And plentiful. Booze? Often free, especially if it was offered up by one of those "friendly" stews. And if the plane was late taking off? Free booze. Rough weather bouncing you around a bit? Free booze. Have to circle for awhile before landing? Free booze.
The beverage cart could solve most any problem.
And if you flew the major airlines often, it paid to join one of their airport clubs, where oodles of free booze and food were always on tap. You could stop in during layovers and get some food. Or even lay down and take a nap. In short, flying was considered a privilege by many. And all my friends and family were jealous as Hell of my access to the world through frequent air travel.
I recall one particular week. I had lunch on the Space Needle in Seattle on Monday, dinner at Caesars' Palace in Vegas on Tuesday, lunch at Winstead's in Kansas City on Wednesday (best hamburgers on Earth!), dinner at Pitty Pat's Porch in Atlanta on Thursday (best fried chicken on Earth!), and dinner again at Windows on the World at the Twin Towers in New York City Friday evening (most expensive dinner on Earth!). Pretty average week, actually.
This was pre-frequent flyer miles, BTW. Too bad. Because I traveled more than 3 million miles in the air over that period. Now THAT's frequent. I recall one day when I took five separate flights during the course of a 24-hour day. From Springfield, Illinois very, very early in the morning (5:10 a.m.), I flew to Chicago, then on to Hamilton, Ontario, where I put on an 8-hour seminar at their University Medical School.
Later that day I took a flight back to Chicago, then on to Louisville, Kentucky, with a connection to my final destination of Lexington, later on than night. I arrived there at 11:00 p.m.
And oh yeah, we flew through a tornado on that last leg. I thought that 737 just might turn into a 437.
Lots of free booze on that flight as well once things cleared up. And I needed it. I might have failed to mention that I'm afflicted with acrophobia, or the fear of heights. And airplanes have a tendency to go, ummm, high. As in, "up there."
So even though I know that the fear of heights is an irrational fear, it's still a fear. And just about the very worst thing I could experience is a 737 twisting all up in knots, jumping up and down in 100 foot increments, being flailed all side-to-side by a tornado, doing its best to come apart in flight. There was a lady on that flight who actually tried to unlatch the front cabin door because she was so fearful we'd fly apart like a K-Mart watch. I think she felt she'd be safer outside than in her seat. And I sort of agreed with her. She had to be restrained by the cabin attendants and was later arrested as we got off the flight. Like I said, lots of free booze makes little problems like that one tend to go away.
And friendly stews...
I recall another evening when I left LAX on my way to SFO late at night, prepping for my appointment in San Fran early the next a.m. (This was during a time when the "Streets of San Francisco" was a TV show with Karl Malden and Michael Douglas, and not a place piled high with used hypodermic needles and human excrement). American put me on a 747. It was EMPTY except for me. Empty, as in nobody else on the plane! There were 12 cabin attendants, the usual complement for a 747...and me. Talk about short takeoffs! Nearly straight up after only about a 2,500 foot roll out.
Talk about excellent service! A 12 : 1 stew to patron ratio is a really good ratio...
Now? Don't ask. Airplanes today are very much like "blivets." What's a blivet, you might ask? Back in Missouri we used to define a "blivet" as two pounds of sh*t in a one pound bag. Airplanes today are so jammed full of fare-paying travelers that seat room is a long-ago luxury. You may recall the kerfuffle reported a couple of weeks back between two passengers, one in the next to last seat, and one in the very last, where the seat back is permanently in the fixed and full upright and locked position. She put her seat back down, and he pounded on it, with his fist, HARD, for 20 minutes. All recorded on her cell phone. And viral on YouTube. And the cabin stew threatened the lady in the seat in front - the one being assaulted - with arrest if she didn't stop videotaping the incident. Whaaaaaaaat? We're now officially in Bizzarro World!
So I decided quite awhile back that I'd taken my last flight. I decided quite awhile back that fighting my way to an airport, and then fighting to find a parking spot, and then fighting to get through the tech inspections, and fighting to keep from being felt up by TSA's in the interest of "national security," and then fighting to insert my 6' 1," 215 pound frame into a 5' 0" seat, was more than enough. I decided I'd been everywhere I needed to go, if flying there proved necessary in order to visit.
In other words, I'm voting with my feet. I hereafter choose not to participate.
Anywhere I need to go my car will take me. And it is clean, and comfortable, and always ready for me to go anywhere I choose. No reservations, no airport hassles, no cancelled flights. No pissed off TSA agents grabbing my family jewels. And no sitting next to some smelly, 400 pound rando dude with a "comfort" chicken in his lap. And no coughing and sneezing and nose-blowing and thin cabin air and dirty seats and drop-down tables and overpriced, dry, stale sandwiches, and foul-tempered, 70+ year-old "cabin attendants."
And now, and perhaps forever, since we've been afflicted with the Chinese Wuhan Far Eastern Coronavirus, flying subjects one to a potential load of airborne germs that just might kill us.
So I recognize that those of us who've yet to go everywhere they wish may still have to subject themselves to the rigors of air travel. At least, once it opens back up. The question I've asked myself, and the question they must also ask, is the getting there worth the hassle of the going there?
For me, the answer is a no! No more. Take a short road trip to a nearby national park. Go to the beach. Drive to the mountains. Or, visit your favorite bar and have a cocktail. Just don't go by a plane that's 110% full. I sure won't. You decide...
To wit: You may have noticed that our airlines have pretty much all shut down. Good, I say. Who needs 'em? I don't. I've had all the airplanes in my life I'm likely to need, and believe I can make a good case for others to simply avoid this form of transportation as well.
Need to go someplace? Drive. Or, just stay home. "Shelter in place," as the commie pinko weenies among us so proudly advise. Otherwise, you just might subject yourselves to all sorts of maniacal transgressions. Why am I so worked up about airlines? Read on, fellow Patriot...
I first started flying on business back in the early 1970's. I was named international sales and marketing manager by a succession of medical device and pharmaceutical manufacturers and I had to spread the word, all around the world. And I did.
Of course, that involved hopping on a never-ending succession of airplanes to do it. And I did. Starting in about '73, I spent the next six years averaging a plane a day. From my home base in St. Louis, I traveled everywhere. I visited 49 states, 161 major American cities and 37 countries. And that takes a lot of flying.
Don't know why I never made it to North Dakota. Oh well...
In short, my entire existence consisted of hurtling across the sometimes unfriendly skies at 500 miles an hour in aluminum tubes filled with folks who needed to be someplace else. However, those "folks" were most often business executives dressed in suits and ties. And 25 year-old stewerardess-es in short skirts. Not a bad thing at all...
But flying back then wasn't the same as flying is now. Back then, all the planes were new, and so were the stewardess-es-es (what they were called before "me too"). The planes were all bright and shiny and clean. The stews were all beautiful and friendly. And being a friendly sort myself, I often engaged in friendly visitations of the 4th Kind with only the finest looking of those aforementioned friendly stews.
As often as possible, I'm happy to say...
And the planes all took off half full. Since this was pre-deregulation, the price of tickets was fixed by some bozo in a green eye shade in a basement somewhere in Washington, D.C. Which, because they were high priced, posed a disincentive for all but bizz-types and the wealthy to fly. Example: it cost $405 in '73 dollars for a round-trip ticket from LAX to NYC back then. That was more than 40 years ago. And a round-trip ticket today costs...mucho less.
So we all had lots of choices as to where to sit. And the seats were big and roomy and comfortable. And clean. There was plenty of seat room. And leg room. And stowage room. You didn't like your seat? You just got up and changed it. Food? The food was actually good. Or, at least fairly good. And plentiful. Booze? Often free, especially if it was offered up by one of those "friendly" stews. And if the plane was late taking off? Free booze. Rough weather bouncing you around a bit? Free booze. Have to circle for awhile before landing? Free booze.
The beverage cart could solve most any problem.
And if you flew the major airlines often, it paid to join one of their airport clubs, where oodles of free booze and food were always on tap. You could stop in during layovers and get some food. Or even lay down and take a nap. In short, flying was considered a privilege by many. And all my friends and family were jealous as Hell of my access to the world through frequent air travel.
I recall one particular week. I had lunch on the Space Needle in Seattle on Monday, dinner at Caesars' Palace in Vegas on Tuesday, lunch at Winstead's in Kansas City on Wednesday (best hamburgers on Earth!), dinner at Pitty Pat's Porch in Atlanta on Thursday (best fried chicken on Earth!), and dinner again at Windows on the World at the Twin Towers in New York City Friday evening (most expensive dinner on Earth!). Pretty average week, actually.
This was pre-frequent flyer miles, BTW. Too bad. Because I traveled more than 3 million miles in the air over that period. Now THAT's frequent. I recall one day when I took five separate flights during the course of a 24-hour day. From Springfield, Illinois very, very early in the morning (5:10 a.m.), I flew to Chicago, then on to Hamilton, Ontario, where I put on an 8-hour seminar at their University Medical School.
Later that day I took a flight back to Chicago, then on to Louisville, Kentucky, with a connection to my final destination of Lexington, later on than night. I arrived there at 11:00 p.m.
And oh yeah, we flew through a tornado on that last leg. I thought that 737 just might turn into a 437.
Lots of free booze on that flight as well once things cleared up. And I needed it. I might have failed to mention that I'm afflicted with acrophobia, or the fear of heights. And airplanes have a tendency to go, ummm, high. As in, "up there."
So even though I know that the fear of heights is an irrational fear, it's still a fear. And just about the very worst thing I could experience is a 737 twisting all up in knots, jumping up and down in 100 foot increments, being flailed all side-to-side by a tornado, doing its best to come apart in flight. There was a lady on that flight who actually tried to unlatch the front cabin door because she was so fearful we'd fly apart like a K-Mart watch. I think she felt she'd be safer outside than in her seat. And I sort of agreed with her. She had to be restrained by the cabin attendants and was later arrested as we got off the flight. Like I said, lots of free booze makes little problems like that one tend to go away.
And friendly stews...
I recall another evening when I left LAX on my way to SFO late at night, prepping for my appointment in San Fran early the next a.m. (This was during a time when the "Streets of San Francisco" was a TV show with Karl Malden and Michael Douglas, and not a place piled high with used hypodermic needles and human excrement). American put me on a 747. It was EMPTY except for me. Empty, as in nobody else on the plane! There were 12 cabin attendants, the usual complement for a 747...and me. Talk about short takeoffs! Nearly straight up after only about a 2,500 foot roll out.
Talk about excellent service! A 12 : 1 stew to patron ratio is a really good ratio...
Now? Don't ask. Airplanes today are very much like "blivets." What's a blivet, you might ask? Back in Missouri we used to define a "blivet" as two pounds of sh*t in a one pound bag. Airplanes today are so jammed full of fare-paying travelers that seat room is a long-ago luxury. You may recall the kerfuffle reported a couple of weeks back between two passengers, one in the next to last seat, and one in the very last, where the seat back is permanently in the fixed and full upright and locked position. She put her seat back down, and he pounded on it, with his fist, HARD, for 20 minutes. All recorded on her cell phone. And viral on YouTube. And the cabin stew threatened the lady in the seat in front - the one being assaulted - with arrest if she didn't stop videotaping the incident. Whaaaaaaaat? We're now officially in Bizzarro World!
So I decided quite awhile back that I'd taken my last flight. I decided quite awhile back that fighting my way to an airport, and then fighting to find a parking spot, and then fighting to get through the tech inspections, and fighting to keep from being felt up by TSA's in the interest of "national security," and then fighting to insert my 6' 1," 215 pound frame into a 5' 0" seat, was more than enough. I decided I'd been everywhere I needed to go, if flying there proved necessary in order to visit.
In other words, I'm voting with my feet. I hereafter choose not to participate.
Anywhere I need to go my car will take me. And it is clean, and comfortable, and always ready for me to go anywhere I choose. No reservations, no airport hassles, no cancelled flights. No pissed off TSA agents grabbing my family jewels. And no sitting next to some smelly, 400 pound rando dude with a "comfort" chicken in his lap. And no coughing and sneezing and nose-blowing and thin cabin air and dirty seats and drop-down tables and overpriced, dry, stale sandwiches, and foul-tempered, 70+ year-old "cabin attendants."
And now, and perhaps forever, since we've been afflicted with the Chinese Wuhan Far Eastern Coronavirus, flying subjects one to a potential load of airborne germs that just might kill us.
So I recognize that those of us who've yet to go everywhere they wish may still have to subject themselves to the rigors of air travel. At least, once it opens back up. The question I've asked myself, and the question they must also ask, is the getting there worth the hassle of the going there?
For me, the answer is a no! No more. Take a short road trip to a nearby national park. Go to the beach. Drive to the mountains. Or, visit your favorite bar and have a cocktail. Just don't go by a plane that's 110% full. I sure won't. You decide...
Thursday, April 23, 2020
Liberty for Safety...
"Those willing to trade a little liberty for
a little safety, deserve neither
a little safety, deserve neither
liberty, nor safety..."
Founding Father Benjamin Franklin, 1787
Brother Ben was prescient. Brother Ben advised us well. Brother Ben warned us. Brother Ben foretold the happenings in the early part of 2020...
Are you enjoying your "socialism light" experiment? You know, being ordered to cower in your homes, and wear masks if you go choose to go out. Which they don't want you to do. Sort of like being ordered into solitary confinement without having first committed a major crime. But don't go out or you'll risk being ticketed by those who want you subservient. And you might as well enjoy your "socialism-light," because you're ensnared smack dab in the middle of it...
I doubt anyone would have guessed just three months ago that we'd now be "sheltered in place." That term was heretofore used only to describe what the peons among us must do when and if and when somebody with a gun is anywhere nearby.
Like within the same zip code...
And also afraid of what our governor might do to further confound our miserable, useless, plebeian little lives. Six weeks ago you went where you wanted, when you wanted, and wouldn't have considered wearing a mask unless you decided to give into that baser urge to stick up the local 7/11.
Now? Depending upon where you live, you might be forced to act like mindless drones as you don your mask and stand in line at the local Wal-Mart waiting for your toilet paper.
You might be forced to hide in your homes and pray for better days. An example would be Michigan. Its Governor Whitmer decided, all by her lonesome, that buying seeds for planting, and paint for painting, and tools for tooling, and tires for tiring, and kiddie car seats for..., you know, and a whole list of other stuff, is verboten! Not to be permitted! No longer allowed!
You can fish from your canoe or rowboat there, but do not try and use a motorboat! Not to be condoned!
Whaaaa?
However, it's quite okay to buy lotto tickets in Michigan, and booze from the wide-open liquor stores, and, of course, maryjowanna. Perhaps the fact that those last items shovel tons of tax money into the MI treasury could have something to do with her decision...
The Michiganders are pissed. They've mounted a recall against their governor, and are protesting her actions at the Lansing State House every day. But she will not back down! No, no, no! She says that they're irresponsible to protest, because their "assembling" * could result in the virus spreading more, and the lock-down lasting longer.
Yeah, she's threatening to extend the lock-down, because her citizens protested. Can you say wannabe' dictator?
And good ol' Boy Guv Gavin Newsom added in his (our) two cents worth. He said he's not opening up Taxifornia's economy until he gets damn good and ready. And then only in pieces. For example, he says when he permits restaurants to reopen, their waiters will have to wear masks, and gloves. And the diners will be issued single-use, disposable menus. And their seating capacity will have to be cut in half, and the diners spread all whichaway, even if members of the same family!
Geee, Mr. Guv! Do you think anyone will go out to eat knowing this craziness awaits them? Geee, Mr. Guv! Do you think any restaurant will stay in business with your draconian edicts in place?
(Pssst! Mr. Guv, more than 10 Million souls work in our restaurants nationwide. That's a lot of people to be put out on the streets because idiots like you with some new-found authority choose to issue dumbass edicts like this one...)
But at least the illegal aliens will be splitting up some $75 Million of our tax money. He's giving it to them because...he can.
And New Jersey's Governor Phil Murphy decided to limit his serfs to zero get-togethers. No assembly of more than one person in NJ. (I'm not sure how that works when you have a family?) And nobody gets to go to church, either, even if they're in their cars, windows rolled up, and listening to the sermons on FM. When asked how he came up with this dictate in consideration of the 1st Amendment to the Bill of Rights to the Constitution, he stated that,
"He hadn't considered the Bill of Rights."
Doubtlessly true...
And of course New York's Governor Cuomo screamed the loudest about the help he needed from the Feds. He said he needed "40,000 ventilators." 40,000? The average big-city hospital would normally maintain only about one per ICU suite. So, 10 - 12 ICUs, 10 - 12 ventilators. Only! These really sophisticated medical instruments cost about $35,000 apiece, and Cuomo wanted 40,000 of them. Like they'd be laying around somewhere, just awaiting his request.
But Cuomo persisted; he needed 40,000. Trump said he doubted that number was necessary. The MSMedia howled that Trump wasn't a doctor, and yet he was playing one by deciding how many ventilators NY's Cuomo needed.
Postscript: Trump gave Cuomo a fully-staffed 1,000 bed hospital ship, the USN Comfort, and converted the Jacob Javits Convention Center into a 2,700 bed hospital. And he sent both the Army's and the Navy's medical personnel in to help. Plus he gave NY 7,000 ventilators. Can you imagine what all that cost?
BTW, with exception of a few of the ventilators, New York needed none of the above. None. Oh yeah, and the USN Comfort is on its way back to Norfolk.
No comment from the MSMedia. But then again, none was expected...
Cuomo and Newsom and Murphy and Whitmer and most of the other Democrat governors got a lesson in civics around this whole deal. Apparently they thought the Federal Government was responsible to give them anything they need to fight a pandemic, anytime they need it. Apparently they skipped civics class in high school that day when the 10th Amendment was taught. You know, that whole "Federalism" thing about the part where the states have both the right and the responsibility to handle this stuff, including stockpiling their own ventilators, and respirators, and masks, and gloves, and gowns, and needles, and syringes, and mops and brooms, and aging copies of National Geographic, etc., with the Government backing them up as needed.
Sort of like Trump did in this situation.
So while we're hiding in our homes, awaiting the time the deadly "gift" from China goes away, and our respective governors deciding to allow us, permit us, to once again gain the freedom we own, let it be known that deciding to accede to the diktats of weenie governors who cannot remove from us our Rights to say what we want, when we want, and assemble where we choose, and practice our religion anywhere, anytime we wish...
...is trading a little guaranteed liberty
for a little presumed "safety."
I don't know about you, but I'm damned happy I bought all my weapons and ammo before the rush; being an Eagle Scout prepares one for that...
* The First Amendment to the Constitution: "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof, or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press, or the right of the people to peacefully assemble, and to petition the Government for redress of grievance."
Tuesday, April 21, 2020
Picking a Running Mate...
So Joseph P. Biden has announced that he'll pick a woman as his Vice Presidential running mate.
Well now, that's unusual. Most candidates just decide to pick the most qualified running mate! I guess that's now so passe. Hmmm...
Oh yeah, in case you've been living in a refrigerator box underneath the nearest overpass, you know by now Good Ol' Uncle Joe is the putative pick by the Democrat Party for Prez. Took awhile, but they picked him. Kind of. Sort of...
And now that he's comfortably ensconced in the bunker of his luxurious seaside Maryland mansion, awaiting his official nomination as the Democrat's POTUS candidate, he's got the time to figure out exactly whom to pick for V.P., and how to get out of the basement. And being the helpful sort, I'd like to offer my assistance...
I'm sort of friendly that way...
I'd say that just choosing a woman isn't enough in this Democrat day-and-age of identity politics. No, no, no. He cannot defeat Trump by choosing just a woman! He should expand his search to add on a little more identity-type stuff so that folks in those tiny sub-groups which they pursue so gingerly would be incited to vote for him. And being an Eagle Scout, and being always helpful thereby, here are my suggestions for Joe to make sure he has the very best chance to win:
First, make sure the woman is Black. For sure! Blacks represent about 18% of our eligible voters, and in some areas as much as 60% of those who cast ballots are Black. And some only cast them once. We know that the Democrat Party owns and controls the Blacks in America, right? They always have, they say, and always will, they say. So being Black is reeeely necessary for the candidate if Joe is to maximize his electoral chances.
And the woman he picks should also be a Muslim. Yeah, that'd help a lot. Not a Christian, our predominant religion. No, no, no! It's not that there are so many Muslims here in America, it's just that our MSMedia and our educators and our elected politicians seem to cater to them so very much. They routinely disparage Christians and Jews, so a Black Muslim should be his running mate. Definitely.
But we're not through yet. Joe's running mate should also be a dwarf. Or at least a midget. There are a lot of midgets and dwarfs running around. And it's just not true that all midgets and dwarfs are wrestlers. I don't know who started that rumor. Some are on TV raising families...
And the candidate should have the "heartbreak of psoriasis." Cindy Lauper approves. And be bald, just like Joe was before he got "plugs." He had hair implants before most of you were born, doncha' know. Yeah, dwarfism is just different enough to attract the Liberals, plus with psoriasis we add in an extra, icky sort of physical abnormality, and being bald connects with the hairless sub-groups all over America.
And the candidate should also be a Gypsy. They call them "Romas" in Europe. They're really good at picking people's pockets and telling fortunes, so Joe could use somebody already trained in the fine art of stealing from the public and peeking into the future to help decide on how to campaign.
And how about also being a transgender? Yeah, that oughta' help, too. A transgender. That's so au courant (that's French). A transgender Black Muslim Gypsy dwarf with psoriasis and "androgenetica alopecia (that's Latin)."
But why stop there? Let's also look for a candidate who's a recovering alcoholic and drug addict who's been to rehab a couple of times, and is faithfully attending AA meetings. More or less. And being a felon would help, also. But preferably from a white-collar crime, like embezzlement. I'm guessing at least half those in Congress have embezzled, whether or not they got caught. So that oughta' help a lot.
And as to addiction, Liberals just love those who are working to turn their lives around. Just think how many recovering alcoholics and druggies there are here in America! Like Robert Downey, Jr.! He recovered, right? He spent a summer washing cars at the Riverside County Jail. And just look at him now!
Drunks and drug addicts and jailbirds vote too, right? Right? Yeah, a recovering addict. I like that...
So, in the final analysis, I'd suggest Joe look high and low (mostly high...heh, heh. Get it? Get it?) for a V.P. running mate who's Black, a Muslim, and a Gypsy, and a dwarf, who's transgender, and an ex-alcoholic, and recovering drug addict, who's spent a few years in the Gray Bar Hotel, and who's got a bad case of psoriasis and a bald pate.
And maybe being near-sighted with a heart murmur wouldn't hurt. And with a bullet wound...
If you can think of any other identity group which Joe could try and attract via the choice of his running mate, be sure to let me know. I'll pass the suggestion along to Uncle Joe as he languishes in his luxury Maryland bunker, trying to remember why he's awaiting his chance at the Brass Ring...
(BTWaaay, this is the very first bit of bile I've ever puked forth that hasn't included any italicized purple, look-at-me words. I hope you appreciate my extra-special efforts at self-control...)
Well do you?
Well now, that's unusual. Most candidates just decide to pick the most qualified running mate! I guess that's now so passe. Hmmm...
Oh yeah, in case you've been living in a refrigerator box underneath the nearest overpass, you know by now Good Ol' Uncle Joe is the putative pick by the Democrat Party for Prez. Took awhile, but they picked him. Kind of. Sort of...
And now that he's comfortably ensconced in the bunker of his luxurious seaside Maryland mansion, awaiting his official nomination as the Democrat's POTUS candidate, he's got the time to figure out exactly whom to pick for V.P., and how to get out of the basement. And being the helpful sort, I'd like to offer my assistance...
I'm sort of friendly that way...
I'd say that just choosing a woman isn't enough in this Democrat day-and-age of identity politics. No, no, no. He cannot defeat Trump by choosing just a woman! He should expand his search to add on a little more identity-type stuff so that folks in those tiny sub-groups which they pursue so gingerly would be incited to vote for him. And being an Eagle Scout, and being always helpful thereby, here are my suggestions for Joe to make sure he has the very best chance to win:
First, make sure the woman is Black. For sure! Blacks represent about 18% of our eligible voters, and in some areas as much as 60% of those who cast ballots are Black. And some only cast them once. We know that the Democrat Party owns and controls the Blacks in America, right? They always have, they say, and always will, they say. So being Black is reeeely necessary for the candidate if Joe is to maximize his electoral chances.
And the woman he picks should also be a Muslim. Yeah, that'd help a lot. Not a Christian, our predominant religion. No, no, no! It's not that there are so many Muslims here in America, it's just that our MSMedia and our educators and our elected politicians seem to cater to them so very much. They routinely disparage Christians and Jews, so a Black Muslim should be his running mate. Definitely.
But we're not through yet. Joe's running mate should also be a dwarf. Or at least a midget. There are a lot of midgets and dwarfs running around. And it's just not true that all midgets and dwarfs are wrestlers. I don't know who started that rumor. Some are on TV raising families...
And the candidate should have the "heartbreak of psoriasis." Cindy Lauper approves. And be bald, just like Joe was before he got "plugs." He had hair implants before most of you were born, doncha' know. Yeah, dwarfism is just different enough to attract the Liberals, plus with psoriasis we add in an extra, icky sort of physical abnormality, and being bald connects with the hairless sub-groups all over America.
And the candidate should also be a Gypsy. They call them "Romas" in Europe. They're really good at picking people's pockets and telling fortunes, so Joe could use somebody already trained in the fine art of stealing from the public and peeking into the future to help decide on how to campaign.
And how about also being a transgender? Yeah, that oughta' help, too. A transgender. That's so au courant (that's French). A transgender Black Muslim Gypsy dwarf with psoriasis and "androgenetica alopecia (that's Latin)."
But why stop there? Let's also look for a candidate who's a recovering alcoholic and drug addict who's been to rehab a couple of times, and is faithfully attending AA meetings. More or less. And being a felon would help, also. But preferably from a white-collar crime, like embezzlement. I'm guessing at least half those in Congress have embezzled, whether or not they got caught. So that oughta' help a lot.
And as to addiction, Liberals just love those who are working to turn their lives around. Just think how many recovering alcoholics and druggies there are here in America! Like Robert Downey, Jr.! He recovered, right? He spent a summer washing cars at the Riverside County Jail. And just look at him now!
Drunks and drug addicts and jailbirds vote too, right? Right? Yeah, a recovering addict. I like that...
So, in the final analysis, I'd suggest Joe look high and low (mostly high...heh, heh. Get it? Get it?) for a V.P. running mate who's Black, a Muslim, and a Gypsy, and a dwarf, who's transgender, and an ex-alcoholic, and recovering drug addict, who's spent a few years in the Gray Bar Hotel, and who's got a bad case of psoriasis and a bald pate.
And maybe being near-sighted with a heart murmur wouldn't hurt. And with a bullet wound...
If you can think of any other identity group which Joe could try and attract via the choice of his running mate, be sure to let me know. I'll pass the suggestion along to Uncle Joe as he languishes in his luxury Maryland bunker, trying to remember why he's awaiting his chance at the Brass Ring...
(BTWaaay, this is the very first bit of bile I've ever puked forth that hasn't included any italicized purple, look-at-me words. I hope you appreciate my extra-special efforts at self-control...)
Well do you?
Sunday, April 19, 2020
Is the MainStreamMedia Biased?
A week ago Thursday, April 9th, Mitch McConnell (R-KY), Senate Majority Leader, put forth a bill with one - and only one - goal; to increase the amount of Federal aid for the Paycheck Protection Program from $350 Billion to $600 Billion.
No new measures, no new proposals, no new expenditures. Nothing. Just erase the part about "$350" and pencil in "$600." A 27-word measure, perhaps the very shortest in Senate history. Just increase the amount of money available to the "Paycheck Protection Program." Why? Because they need it. And they need it now! In fact, we're told the Government ran out of money for this Program this past Wednesday. That was the day the Treasury Department said this Program would run out of money. They were right. We did. The Democrats knew it. San Fran Nan Pelosi, Speaker of the House, knew it.
Everybody knew it!
So what happened? The Democrats took advantage of the urgency in this original measure and added in all sorts of new and unrelated political spending. Spending such as $75 Million for the Kennedy Center in New York. And $100 Million for NASA. And $300,000,000 for Migrant and Refugee Assistance. And my personal favorite, $25 Million "for Capitol Building cleaning supplies." Now I know that the Capitol gets dirty, but $25 Million dirty? Yeah, I'm sure somebody somewhere knows how these and 54 other expenditures totaling more than $200 Billion had to do with defeating a viral pandemic. But if they do, they're sure not commenting.
So, what was intended to be a $2 Trillion bill on Monday, April 13th, became a $2.2 Trillion bill a week later.
And then all of a sudden, we had an "instant replay." McConnell and the Republicans wanted an additional $250 Billion for the PPP, and the Democrats refused; they voted down the measure. They got what they wanted by stamping their little Gucci-clad feet the first time, and they wanted to do it again...
Insiders call holding what the Democrats did, and wanted to do again, as "trimming the Christmas tree." When the Republicans wouldn't go along with their demands, the Democrats voted down McConnell's proposal. They called it a "political stunt." More money so our small businesses can keep their employees employed, so they don't go on unemployment and cost us $Billions and $Billions more. A stunt. Hmmm...
So our workers in America won't get any more money. And our small businesses in America won't get any more money. At least not quickly. I hope our unemployed aren't too hungry. And just now did our so-called "Mainstream Media" report on this event?
Wonder of wonders, all of the usual liberal media sources reported the events exactly as they unfolded!
CNN, NBC, Bloomberg News and Politico, for example, all reported the events as they occurred. In short, they reported that American workers were struggling and the Democrats chose to deny them more money. CNN, for example, published a story headlined "Democrats block GOP-led funding boost for small business aid program" at 10:36 a.m.
By 11:15 a.m., only 39 minutes later, the headline on the story was adjusted to read, "Senate at stalemate over more COVID-19 aid after Republicans and Democrats block competing proposals."
In fact, within hours, all four networks had changed their headlines. All four acceded to Democrat Party demands and changed their headlines. No blame was assigned. And no truth was to be found anywhere nearby.
None of them were proven guilty of committing an act of journalism. Sadly.
We don't often get to see such a stark and obvious example of political favoritism in the harsh light of day. As Senator Ted Cruz Tweeted shortly thereafter,
"Gee, it's almost as if they had
a political agenda..."
Is our so-called "Mainstream Media" biased? You decide...
(BTW, I, The Chuckmeister, was recently asked by an old friend if the stuff I write is true. Yes, it's true. And always carefully and fully researched. Something the "news" channels above cannot truthfully say. My opinions are presented as just that; opinions. But the facts I offer up, are facts. Whether or not one likes what I write, and there are surely those who don't, be advised that it's always true. And in the case above, painfully true. So there...)
Friday, April 17, 2020
Two Important Things...
Two very important things happened this past January, 15th. One was widely reported. The other, ummm, not so much...
On January, 15th, just 12 weeks ago, one Rep. Nancy Pelosi (D-CA), Speaker of the House, signed the Articles of Impeachment on President Donald J. Trump. Remember? That's when she passed out gold pens after that signing ceremony, reportedly costing us, the U.S. taxpayers, more than $15,000. Fifteen Grand for gold-plated pens. It was a "somber" day. Or, it was supposed to be. The scarcely muffled laughter ensued from Democrat leadership at the signing ceremony...
On that very same day a Chinese national deplaned at Sea-Tac International Airport in Seattle, Washington. He arrived from Wuhan Province, China. He was later named "Patient Zero" by the World Health Organization on our nationwide fight to defeat the Wuhan Chinese Coronavirus. He's the guy who came ashore already infected with COVID-19.* He's the guy who visited that nursing home and dealt it the killing blow; 27 of their elderly patients died within days. For the first few days of the pandemic it was responsible for more than half of all deaths.
It was fully 20 days after that fateful January 15th date that Trump was finally declared innocent of the bogus impeachment scam, and the first day the House held a hearing on the virus. They were pretty busy up until then...
That same day, February 5th, is the day that Trump stopped all incoming flights from China in an effort to control the outbreak.
He was labeled a "racist" by Democrat POTUS candidates for so doing, including Joe Biden, as well as by the DNC, CNN, MSNBC, NPR, PBS, Vox, Politico, plus all the Alphabet Channels, and nearly every Democrat in America.
Seven days later Trump closed off all incoming flights from Europe. He was once again declared a "racist" by all of the above mentioned usual suspects. So what else is new?
And so began our long national nightmare. Businesses are ordered to close. Restaurants are shut down. Our people have been told to go home and stay there. Folks began hoarding toilet paper. America is officially "out of business."
Just a few months ago our Country was basking in its greatness. The Dow was flirting with 30,000, a more than one-third increase in just the past three years. Our fine military had been largely rebuilt, a far cry from the deteriorated state it was in only recently. Hundreds of job-killing rules and regulations and stultifying Executive Orders had been cancelled. Unemployment for all classes of Americans was at an all-time low. Individual, middle-class wages were at an all-time high. America was the envy of the entire world.
Now? It's World War III. The U.S. has taken its usual leadership role in fighting this scourge. Public-private partnerships have been formed to manufacture millions of face masks and tens of thousands of ventilators. Our two hospital ships have been deployed, one to Lost Angeles, the other to New York City. A crack team of epidemiologists has been given the job of leading this charge, aided by V.P. Mike Pence, who's taken the helm of this war. A $2.2 Trillion Dollar initial recovery bill has been signed into effect, which should quickly shovel money into the hands of the innocent workers and business owners who've been dealt this awful blow.
It's as if America's Government flew an F-16 into your house, and now they have to pay to have it fixed.
With exception of the so-called "MainStreamMedia," as is listed above, Trump and his team have been getting high marks on their handling of this crisis. Even from some "blue" state governors, including Cuomo in New York and Newsom in California. But once this National Nightmare is over, I think there will be plenty of time to assign success or failure to our elected leaders.
And that group would include one San Fran Nan Pelosi and her "golden pens..."
* "COVID-19" stands for COronaVirusIDisease-number 19.
On January, 15th, just 12 weeks ago, one Rep. Nancy Pelosi (D-CA), Speaker of the House, signed the Articles of Impeachment on President Donald J. Trump. Remember? That's when she passed out gold pens after that signing ceremony, reportedly costing us, the U.S. taxpayers, more than $15,000. Fifteen Grand for gold-plated pens. It was a "somber" day. Or, it was supposed to be. The scarcely muffled laughter ensued from Democrat leadership at the signing ceremony...
On that very same day a Chinese national deplaned at Sea-Tac International Airport in Seattle, Washington. He arrived from Wuhan Province, China. He was later named "Patient Zero" by the World Health Organization on our nationwide fight to defeat the Wuhan Chinese Coronavirus. He's the guy who came ashore already infected with COVID-19.* He's the guy who visited that nursing home and dealt it the killing blow; 27 of their elderly patients died within days. For the first few days of the pandemic it was responsible for more than half of all deaths.
It was fully 20 days after that fateful January 15th date that Trump was finally declared innocent of the bogus impeachment scam, and the first day the House held a hearing on the virus. They were pretty busy up until then...
That same day, February 5th, is the day that Trump stopped all incoming flights from China in an effort to control the outbreak.
He was labeled a "racist" by Democrat POTUS candidates for so doing, including Joe Biden, as well as by the DNC, CNN, MSNBC, NPR, PBS, Vox, Politico, plus all the Alphabet Channels, and nearly every Democrat in America.
Seven days later Trump closed off all incoming flights from Europe. He was once again declared a "racist" by all of the above mentioned usual suspects. So what else is new?
And so began our long national nightmare. Businesses are ordered to close. Restaurants are shut down. Our people have been told to go home and stay there. Folks began hoarding toilet paper. America is officially "out of business."
Just a few months ago our Country was basking in its greatness. The Dow was flirting with 30,000, a more than one-third increase in just the past three years. Our fine military had been largely rebuilt, a far cry from the deteriorated state it was in only recently. Hundreds of job-killing rules and regulations and stultifying Executive Orders had been cancelled. Unemployment for all classes of Americans was at an all-time low. Individual, middle-class wages were at an all-time high. America was the envy of the entire world.
Now? It's World War III. The U.S. has taken its usual leadership role in fighting this scourge. Public-private partnerships have been formed to manufacture millions of face masks and tens of thousands of ventilators. Our two hospital ships have been deployed, one to Lost Angeles, the other to New York City. A crack team of epidemiologists has been given the job of leading this charge, aided by V.P. Mike Pence, who's taken the helm of this war. A $2.2 Trillion Dollar initial recovery bill has been signed into effect, which should quickly shovel money into the hands of the innocent workers and business owners who've been dealt this awful blow.
It's as if America's Government flew an F-16 into your house, and now they have to pay to have it fixed.
With exception of the so-called "MainStreamMedia," as is listed above, Trump and his team have been getting high marks on their handling of this crisis. Even from some "blue" state governors, including Cuomo in New York and Newsom in California. But once this National Nightmare is over, I think there will be plenty of time to assign success or failure to our elected leaders.
And that group would include one San Fran Nan Pelosi and her "golden pens..."
* "COVID-19" stands for COronaVirusIDisease-number 19.
Wednesday, April 15, 2020
"Biden-eze."
I need a little help here.
I don't speak "Biden-eze." Perhaps you do. If so, I'd like some help translating his comments from the Sunday, April 6th ABC "This Week" talking head program with a fellow named George Stephanopolous.
You remember Snuffleopolous, don't you? He was Billy Jeff "Blue Dress" Clinton's roommate in college. And then he became his Chief of Staff. And then somehow he became a "journalist" once Clinton left office. Proves, I guess, that you don't need a journalism degree to be a journalist. And even those with such degrees often don't act like it. You can witness that every afternoon during the White House press briefings. But anyway, just be a friend of a President and you'll wind up with a $20 million a year salary as ABC's News Director. Nice little deal there...
Anyway, each channel has a political talk show on Sunday mornings, and ABC's offering featured presumptive Democrat POTUS candidate Joseph P. Biden. You remember him, don't you? He held President Obama's coat for 8 years. And now he's looking for somebody to hold his coat. But before he gets that opportunity, or the coat, he must make some appearances on TV from his basement of his palatial shoreline Maryland mansion and answer some questions from those who are absolutely guaranteed to vote for him. Otherwise he wouldn't appear on their programs, would he? And one of the answers he gave on this particular program left me confused. Let's see if you can help translate it, okay. Here goes:
"We cannot let this, we've never allowed any crisis from the Civil War straight through to the pandemic of '17, all the way around, '16, we have never, never left our democracy "sakes" second fiddle, way they, we can both have a democracy and...correct public health."
Now, I'm sure some folks somewhere knew what he meant. Like maybe his wife. And I'm sure Snuffleopolus didn't care what he meant. And likely his ardent followers kind of guessed what he meant, but didn't much care either. But I have no idea what he meant.
Do you?
But then Biden appeared on "The View" just recently, and gave us another, ummm, somewhat confusing answer to a question asked by Co-Host Sara Haines. She asked, "Are you at all concerned, as President Trump said, we cannot let the cure be worse than the problem itself?" He answered...
"We have to take care of the cure that will make the problem worse, no matter what."
Well then, since you put it THAT way...
Something tells me we'll have many other instances of "Biden-eze-zzs" between now and November. Let's all work together to try and decipher what they actually mean...
I don't speak "Biden-eze." Perhaps you do. If so, I'd like some help translating his comments from the Sunday, April 6th ABC "This Week" talking head program with a fellow named George Stephanopolous.
You remember Snuffleopolous, don't you? He was Billy Jeff "Blue Dress" Clinton's roommate in college. And then he became his Chief of Staff. And then somehow he became a "journalist" once Clinton left office. Proves, I guess, that you don't need a journalism degree to be a journalist. And even those with such degrees often don't act like it. You can witness that every afternoon during the White House press briefings. But anyway, just be a friend of a President and you'll wind up with a $20 million a year salary as ABC's News Director. Nice little deal there...
Anyway, each channel has a political talk show on Sunday mornings, and ABC's offering featured presumptive Democrat POTUS candidate Joseph P. Biden. You remember him, don't you? He held President Obama's coat for 8 years. And now he's looking for somebody to hold his coat. But before he gets that opportunity, or the coat, he must make some appearances on TV from his basement of his palatial shoreline Maryland mansion and answer some questions from those who are absolutely guaranteed to vote for him. Otherwise he wouldn't appear on their programs, would he? And one of the answers he gave on this particular program left me confused. Let's see if you can help translate it, okay. Here goes:
"We cannot let this, we've never allowed any crisis from the Civil War straight through to the pandemic of '17, all the way around, '16, we have never, never left our democracy "sakes" second fiddle, way they, we can both have a democracy and...correct public health."
Now, I'm sure some folks somewhere knew what he meant. Like maybe his wife. And I'm sure Snuffleopolus didn't care what he meant. And likely his ardent followers kind of guessed what he meant, but didn't much care either. But I have no idea what he meant.
Do you?
But then Biden appeared on "The View" just recently, and gave us another, ummm, somewhat confusing answer to a question asked by Co-Host Sara Haines. She asked, "Are you at all concerned, as President Trump said, we cannot let the cure be worse than the problem itself?" He answered...
"We have to take care of the cure that will make the problem worse, no matter what."
Well then, since you put it THAT way...
Something tells me we'll have many other instances of "Biden-eze-zzs" between now and November. Let's all work together to try and decipher what they actually mean...
Thursday, April 9, 2020
The "Twilight Zone," Revisited...
Star Date: 2235.1
So I just got back from a trip to Sam's Club, my local Big Box discount supermarket.
I'd received an email from Sam (how nice of him to write!) informing me that "old folks" like me could shop between 7 and 9:00 a.m. without having to rub shoulders with those younger commoners. I jumped at the chance, thinking I could sort of "ease in" and "ease out" without causing a single ripple in the time warp continuum.
Ease in? Ummmm, nope. Ease out? Not nearly.
As I arrived the line of prospective elderly shoppers was around the block. I thought hard about just driving right on past them, offering up a little wave as I passed, but given that my curiosity exceeded my fear of dying, I parked and grabbed a cart.
The vacant looks on the other shoppers' faces was surreal. They all looked like they'd just lost the family dog. Shock, they were in (with apologies to Yoda)! This looked for all the world like an episode from The "Twilight Zone." And yet, they, and I, somehow managed to withstand the numerous bottlenecks placed in our way and were finally ushered into the store. By a guy with a bullhorn.
(I've often thought that guys with bullhorns were attempting to hide their, ummm, shorter stature...if you know what I mean...)
The store was nearly empty. It seemed that they were only allowing in about 10 shoppers at a time, and only as a different 10 were leaving. So I had about 100,000 sq. ft. open and available to me for the first time ever.
So I of course made my way to the toilet paper aisle.
Wonder of wonders, I was in luck! There was still some left, but only in those packages the size of Vermont. I mean, really, people! This is ridiculous! There was like 192 rolls in this thing! I could barely lift this yuuuuge package of t.p., and after putting it in my cart, I could scarcely see over it. But I just had to buy it. Why? Because everybody else was buying it, that's why. Annnnd, I think it just might become the medium of exchange if and when our country goes into rampant, skyrocketing inflation where money once again has no value.
(Psssst! "Hey you," as the guy opens his trench coat furtively. "Wanna' buy some toilet paper?")
What caused all of this? How did we go from near full employment, a roaring economy, people traveling everywhere, stock market at an all-time high, 401(k)'s fat with new wealth, to "shelter in place?" To buying tons of toilet paper and bottled water? To planes and trains and stores and businesses Closed. Down. Tight?
Kind of makes one wonder, don't it? And when something like this just happens, out of the blue, you'll forgive me if I sense a conspiracy. I sense a carefully orchestrated effort to take down our economy so that Trump can be swept out of office come November. Maybe a conspiracy by those dratted, inscrutable Chinese.
Whether that effort by the Chinese was a conspiracy against America or not, I'm not sure. But what I am sure of is that this whole thing stinks. And I hope the Trump Administration looks high and low to find the answer.
But in the meantime people just like me are now faced with the challenge of venturing out in a "search and destroy" mission to acquire the necessary eggs and milk and cheese and bread and butter so they can keep body and soul together in this time of National Crisis. Yeah, long sentence, I know. But I specialize in them. Learn to cope with it...
And now, the Public Health Officer of Riverside County, CA (I didn't know we had one of those!) just decided to make it a crime to leave ones' house without first donning a mask. Yep, a $1,000 fine and six months in the Gray Bar Hotel for failing to wear...a mask. Are you reading this? How on Earth can some functionary just unilaterally decide to obviate the 1st Amendment to the Constitution of these here United States by the issuance of a Executive Order, released timidly at 10:00 p.m. on a Sunday Evening? How, indeed?
There's a great big chunk of me that wants to flaunt this bogus edict and go out trolling for a summons. But there's a slightly bigger chunk that just wants to quietly acquiesce...
(BTW, having no mask to wear, I discovered that a quart freezer bag can be converted into a face mask with some strips of ACE bandage and a little ingenuity...)
So Sam's gave up some t.p. and very little else that morning. There was little else to give. Even at 100,000 sq. ft., if it's been ravaged by hordes of scared citizens trying to buy everything not nailed down that they might need for...ever, my shopping experience that morning proved less than desirable. Especially since I had to find a way to get that enormous package of toilet paper into my car...and then out of my car...and then in to my house. Where it will sit, presumably, for months, just looking forlornly at me, as I pass it by, wondering why I bought enough of it for an Army platoon.
Oh well, herd buying affects even us old coots...
So I just got back from a trip to Sam's Club, my local Big Box discount supermarket.
I'd received an email from Sam (how nice of him to write!) informing me that "old folks" like me could shop between 7 and 9:00 a.m. without having to rub shoulders with those younger commoners. I jumped at the chance, thinking I could sort of "ease in" and "ease out" without causing a single ripple in the time warp continuum.
Ease in? Ummmm, nope. Ease out? Not nearly.
As I arrived the line of prospective elderly shoppers was around the block. I thought hard about just driving right on past them, offering up a little wave as I passed, but given that my curiosity exceeded my fear of dying, I parked and grabbed a cart.
The vacant looks on the other shoppers' faces was surreal. They all looked like they'd just lost the family dog. Shock, they were in (with apologies to Yoda)! This looked for all the world like an episode from The "Twilight Zone." And yet, they, and I, somehow managed to withstand the numerous bottlenecks placed in our way and were finally ushered into the store. By a guy with a bullhorn.
(I've often thought that guys with bullhorns were attempting to hide their, ummm, shorter stature...if you know what I mean...)
The store was nearly empty. It seemed that they were only allowing in about 10 shoppers at a time, and only as a different 10 were leaving. So I had about 100,000 sq. ft. open and available to me for the first time ever.
So I of course made my way to the toilet paper aisle.
Wonder of wonders, I was in luck! There was still some left, but only in those packages the size of Vermont. I mean, really, people! This is ridiculous! There was like 192 rolls in this thing! I could barely lift this yuuuuge package of t.p., and after putting it in my cart, I could scarcely see over it. But I just had to buy it. Why? Because everybody else was buying it, that's why. Annnnd, I think it just might become the medium of exchange if and when our country goes into rampant, skyrocketing inflation where money once again has no value.
(Psssst! "Hey you," as the guy opens his trench coat furtively. "Wanna' buy some toilet paper?")
What caused all of this? How did we go from near full employment, a roaring economy, people traveling everywhere, stock market at an all-time high, 401(k)'s fat with new wealth, to "shelter in place?" To buying tons of toilet paper and bottled water? To planes and trains and stores and businesses Closed. Down. Tight?
Kind of makes one wonder, don't it? And when something like this just happens, out of the blue, you'll forgive me if I sense a conspiracy. I sense a carefully orchestrated effort to take down our economy so that Trump can be swept out of office come November. Maybe a conspiracy by those dratted, inscrutable Chinese.
Whether that effort by the Chinese was a conspiracy against America or not, I'm not sure. But what I am sure of is that this whole thing stinks. And I hope the Trump Administration looks high and low to find the answer.
But in the meantime people just like me are now faced with the challenge of venturing out in a "search and destroy" mission to acquire the necessary eggs and milk and cheese and bread and butter so they can keep body and soul together in this time of National Crisis. Yeah, long sentence, I know. But I specialize in them. Learn to cope with it...
And now, the Public Health Officer of Riverside County, CA (I didn't know we had one of those!) just decided to make it a crime to leave ones' house without first donning a mask. Yep, a $1,000 fine and six months in the Gray Bar Hotel for failing to wear...a mask. Are you reading this? How on Earth can some functionary just unilaterally decide to obviate the 1st Amendment to the Constitution of these here United States by the issuance of a Executive Order, released timidly at 10:00 p.m. on a Sunday Evening? How, indeed?
There's a great big chunk of me that wants to flaunt this bogus edict and go out trolling for a summons. But there's a slightly bigger chunk that just wants to quietly acquiesce...
(BTW, having no mask to wear, I discovered that a quart freezer bag can be converted into a face mask with some strips of ACE bandage and a little ingenuity...)
So Sam's gave up some t.p. and very little else that morning. There was little else to give. Even at 100,000 sq. ft., if it's been ravaged by hordes of scared citizens trying to buy everything not nailed down that they might need for...ever, my shopping experience that morning proved less than desirable. Especially since I had to find a way to get that enormous package of toilet paper into my car...and then out of my car...and then in to my house. Where it will sit, presumably, for months, just looking forlornly at me, as I pass it by, wondering why I bought enough of it for an Army platoon.
Oh well, herd buying affects even us old coots...
Sunday, April 5, 2020
Being Prepared.
I was born during the Second World War.
Yeah, I know I don't look like it. More like that Korean Unpleasantness, I'd say. Good genes, I guess. Do you remember that famous song, "I dream of Harry with the light brown genes." Oh well, never mind...
And although a toddler for most of the War, I still have indelible memories of that trying time. I remember my Dad having to save his Federal ration stamps for several months in order to buy new tires. He had the money for them, he said, but the rubber was needed for the War effort. So citizens had to wait for tires for their cars. And to often do without...
I remember Dad and Mom shopping with those same rationing stamps. A 10 lb. bag of potatoes was 5 cents. And a ration coupon. And sugar. And coffee and tea and beans. All required stamps. And some staples were not available at any price. For that's what the War effort really meant to our society. I recall Mom and her friends using carrot and lemon juice to stain their legs a sort of orangish-tan, as silk stockings weren't available. They were needed for parachute canopies...
More than 52% of our entire Gross Domestic Product was committed to the War. Think of that; over half of everything we worked for and produced and bought and sold and earned and spent was dedicated and committed to the War. All production. Everything.
So much so that the Ford Motor Plant in Dearborn, MI, as an example, had been converted to the manufacture of B-25's. These were the middleweight, two-engine Mitchell bombers that served as the workhorses of the War. You'll recall the vary famous story of General Jimmy Doolittle and his Raiders, and how they somehow managed to get a dozen B-25's airborne from the USS Yorktown aircraft carrier so they could blow the crap out of Tokyo.
Oh yeah, and I might add that Ford and its tens of thousands of employees were producing a brand spanking-new B-25 every hour!
My Dad had suffered rheumatic fever as a kid. As a result he had heart trouble. So much so that he couldn't qualify to pick up a rifle and shoot the enemy. So he volunteered, VOLUNTEERED, to help make the really heavy stuff in the Sunflower Ordnance Plant in Lawrence, Kansas. As in bombs. Lots of them. The same stuff that was dropping from the bottom of those self-same B-25's, as well as B-29's and B-17's.
There was no conversation that didn't start, and end, with the War. It was all-consuming. For 4 years it was all America cared about. Winning. At any cost. At all costs...
So I arrived on this plane of existence right smack in the middle of that enormous, all-consuming conflict. So it had a yuuuuge impact upon me and upon everyone else born at about that time. So we all went through life burnished with the memory of that conflict, and steeled for any future crisis that might befall America.
And such a crisis has now befallen us. And all we're asked to do is stay home. That's it. Just stay home. And if we are forced to leave the safety of our homes, cover our faces so we're protected from others and others, from us. That seems to me a pretty reasonable "ask" to try and defeat this unseen, but potentially country-ending enemy.
We cannot bomb this enemy. We have to defeat it with smarts. So I ask all Americans to just stay home. Clean out the garage, polish your silverware, write a novel, wax the floor and read a book. Anything to remain a part of the solution, versus a part of the problem.
And oh yeah, keep your weapons cleaned and polished and at the ready. Anarchy may occur. And we need to ready for that, too...
Yeah, I know I don't look like it. More like that Korean Unpleasantness, I'd say. Good genes, I guess. Do you remember that famous song, "I dream of Harry with the light brown genes." Oh well, never mind...
And although a toddler for most of the War, I still have indelible memories of that trying time. I remember my Dad having to save his Federal ration stamps for several months in order to buy new tires. He had the money for them, he said, but the rubber was needed for the War effort. So citizens had to wait for tires for their cars. And to often do without...
I remember Dad and Mom shopping with those same rationing stamps. A 10 lb. bag of potatoes was 5 cents. And a ration coupon. And sugar. And coffee and tea and beans. All required stamps. And some staples were not available at any price. For that's what the War effort really meant to our society. I recall Mom and her friends using carrot and lemon juice to stain their legs a sort of orangish-tan, as silk stockings weren't available. They were needed for parachute canopies...
More than 52% of our entire Gross Domestic Product was committed to the War. Think of that; over half of everything we worked for and produced and bought and sold and earned and spent was dedicated and committed to the War. All production. Everything.
So much so that the Ford Motor Plant in Dearborn, MI, as an example, had been converted to the manufacture of B-25's. These were the middleweight, two-engine Mitchell bombers that served as the workhorses of the War. You'll recall the vary famous story of General Jimmy Doolittle and his Raiders, and how they somehow managed to get a dozen B-25's airborne from the USS Yorktown aircraft carrier so they could blow the crap out of Tokyo.
Oh yeah, and I might add that Ford and its tens of thousands of employees were producing a brand spanking-new B-25 every hour!
My Dad had suffered rheumatic fever as a kid. As a result he had heart trouble. So much so that he couldn't qualify to pick up a rifle and shoot the enemy. So he volunteered, VOLUNTEERED, to help make the really heavy stuff in the Sunflower Ordnance Plant in Lawrence, Kansas. As in bombs. Lots of them. The same stuff that was dropping from the bottom of those self-same B-25's, as well as B-29's and B-17's.
There was no conversation that didn't start, and end, with the War. It was all-consuming. For 4 years it was all America cared about. Winning. At any cost. At all costs...
So I arrived on this plane of existence right smack in the middle of that enormous, all-consuming conflict. So it had a yuuuuge impact upon me and upon everyone else born at about that time. So we all went through life burnished with the memory of that conflict, and steeled for any future crisis that might befall America.
And such a crisis has now befallen us. And all we're asked to do is stay home. That's it. Just stay home. And if we are forced to leave the safety of our homes, cover our faces so we're protected from others and others, from us. That seems to me a pretty reasonable "ask" to try and defeat this unseen, but potentially country-ending enemy.
We cannot bomb this enemy. We have to defeat it with smarts. So I ask all Americans to just stay home. Clean out the garage, polish your silverware, write a novel, wax the floor and read a book. Anything to remain a part of the solution, versus a part of the problem.
And oh yeah, keep your weapons cleaned and polished and at the ready. Anarchy may occur. And we need to ready for that, too...
Friday, April 3, 2020
One Immutable Fact...
There's one immutable fact of nature, Pilgrim, and of life.
Hair...grows.
I don't care what you do, or how you do it, so long as you're alive, your hair will grow. And keep on growing until you either die, or get it cut.
I have a firm grasp of the obvious, right?
And I, The Chuckmeister, should know. Among other things in my storied life, I once managed an upscale hair salon. So I know for sure that hair grows...
But what the heck do you do when the Nation's shut down? As in, tumbleweeds blowing down Main Street. What do you do when you need a haircut so badly you want to spit? I mean, we're in this whole "social distancing" thing now, and we've been ordered to shut down non-essential businesses, and salons and barber shops are surely non-essential, but hey! Whaddaya' do?
Well, fellow Patriot, I've got an idea. We need to simply find one of those mobile dog groomer trucks you see riding around the neighborhood, which is OUB (Out Of Business), BTW (By The Way). Cut a deal with the owner, who's sitting in his underwear about now, sucking down Pabst Blue Ribbon and watching Judge Judy reruns, and turn it into a "Mobile Hair Cutting Emporium."
Yeah, that's the ticket! Just get one of those mobile vans and cut a hole in the side. A hole just a leeetle bit bigger than a human head. Then, get one of those "Flowbee" deals that was advertised all over TV awhile back, and will surely become available again real soon. So then all we have to do is get an out of work hair cutter (aren't they all?), dress him up in a HazMat suit, and we're in bizz.
The people line up, stick their heads through the hole one at a time, and our well-protected "stylist" plugs his Flowbee into the cigarette lighter. Off he goes, giving haircuts on a super-fast basis to all who need one. Shouldn't take more than half a minute to vacuum off about 2" of everybody's hair, now should it?
I'm thinking this little service should cost, oh, about $10 a pop. Worth it? I'd say so, wouldn't you? After all, one of the very worst feelings there is...is needing a haircut really badly and not being able to get one. You know, when that lick of hair behind your ear just won't go where you need it to go. And this little $10 haircut should return about $9.50 profit. And that's not a bad profit margin for what's a necessary service, right?
You split the profits with Mr. Pabst Blue Ribbon and take your sack full of cash back home to momma and the kids.
So who's in it with me? Who wants to become a Flowbee Vacuummizer Entrepreneur? Join with me in what will surely become the Next. Big. Thing!
Hair...grows.
I don't care what you do, or how you do it, so long as you're alive, your hair will grow. And keep on growing until you either die, or get it cut.
I have a firm grasp of the obvious, right?
And I, The Chuckmeister, should know. Among other things in my storied life, I once managed an upscale hair salon. So I know for sure that hair grows...
But what the heck do you do when the Nation's shut down? As in, tumbleweeds blowing down Main Street. What do you do when you need a haircut so badly you want to spit? I mean, we're in this whole "social distancing" thing now, and we've been ordered to shut down non-essential businesses, and salons and barber shops are surely non-essential, but hey! Whaddaya' do?
Well, fellow Patriot, I've got an idea. We need to simply find one of those mobile dog groomer trucks you see riding around the neighborhood, which is OUB (Out Of Business), BTW (By The Way). Cut a deal with the owner, who's sitting in his underwear about now, sucking down Pabst Blue Ribbon and watching Judge Judy reruns, and turn it into a "Mobile Hair Cutting Emporium."
Yeah, that's the ticket! Just get one of those mobile vans and cut a hole in the side. A hole just a leeetle bit bigger than a human head. Then, get one of those "Flowbee" deals that was advertised all over TV awhile back, and will surely become available again real soon. So then all we have to do is get an out of work hair cutter (aren't they all?), dress him up in a HazMat suit, and we're in bizz.
The people line up, stick their heads through the hole one at a time, and our well-protected "stylist" plugs his Flowbee into the cigarette lighter. Off he goes, giving haircuts on a super-fast basis to all who need one. Shouldn't take more than half a minute to vacuum off about 2" of everybody's hair, now should it?
I'm thinking this little service should cost, oh, about $10 a pop. Worth it? I'd say so, wouldn't you? After all, one of the very worst feelings there is...is needing a haircut really badly and not being able to get one. You know, when that lick of hair behind your ear just won't go where you need it to go. And this little $10 haircut should return about $9.50 profit. And that's not a bad profit margin for what's a necessary service, right?
You split the profits with Mr. Pabst Blue Ribbon and take your sack full of cash back home to momma and the kids.
So who's in it with me? Who wants to become a Flowbee Vacuummizer Entrepreneur? Join with me in what will surely become the Next. Big. Thing!
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