I Wonder What Would Happen...

...if we permitted our young Americans to grow up without becoming educated on their rights and obligations?

How about two generation of them?

You know, what they have to do to earn money and pay taxes and help to defend the Country and its Constitution and stay out of trouble with The Law?  But rather try to brainwash them about equity and inclusion and other such worthless crap?

I wonder just what would happen if that generation or two was allowed to be entirely ignorant of our Constitution, and civics, and the law?  

And I wonder what would happen if we let about 50 years pass without our young citizens being forced to face the prospect of conscription?  To defend and protect our United States of America?  Like more than 100 years of Americans have faced?  Like I faced?

I wonder what would happen if our young people were therefore so scared of their own shadows that they needed "crying rooms" at overpriced colleges and universities in case they're subjected to speech that wounds them to the core?  

Well, fellow Patriot, all you have to do is look around.  Sadly.

The Country I was proudly born into and proudly served, and proudly formed and grew a family within, and built a company and hired dozens and stayed out of the Gray Bar Hotel within, is gone.  Sadly.

We now are forced, due to the shockingly left-wing siezure of our Great Land, to operate more as if in East Germany rather rather than East Lansing. 

I fear we are headed for an uprising.  Perhaps a major civil disturbance, even.  But if it's necessary, let it happen now.  Before the CPDLW's out there grow in number.*

The Parable of the Frog should be inserted about here.  There was once was this frog, you see, named Harry (no relationship to the most pus*ywhipped human on Earth), who was gently placed in a pot of warm water.  On the stovetop, warming up to a boil.  When the water gets too hot, the frog, our Harry, will leap out.  To save his little amphibious life.  As would we all, were we Harry.

However, if we were to put Harry in that pot of warm water and then turn up the heat, slowly, to a boil, Harry's so damn dumb he'd stay in there until his little froggy brains were cooked to a crisp.  That dumb.

The question is,  

will WE be that frog?  

*   (Commie pinko dumbass liberal weenies...) 

On Staying Alive, While Driving...

I've driven more than 2,000,000 miles over my more than 63 years of driving.  At least 4 of those cars over 100,000 miles.  

And I've owned 127 cars on two continents during that same period.  Many during the 60's and 70's when cars were made to be rode hard and put away wet.  Then thrown away after a year or and replaced with the next "muscle" car.  All paid for by ill-gotten gains over a hot pool table.  Or a cozy poker table.  On two continents...

And I'm pleased to say I've only been involved in 3 fairly minor accidents during that period, and they were all somebody else's fault.  Unless you've been t-boned by a Hawaiian teenage beauty queen in an F-250 8,000 lb. pickup truck, trucking along at about 65, through a red light, you (almost) haven't lived...  

So, as an ex-semi-professional race car driver, and ex-professional traveling pool playber, and ex-trprofessional traveling salesman, and ex one-of-the-herd commuter on Lost Angeles' shi*ty freeways, over decades, I consider myself wothy of proving advice and counsel on how to keep the shiny side up and the rubber side own.  

And your ass alive whilst driving.

First and foremost, never, every take your eyes off the road.  Never!  Don't look at your email messages, don't watch movies, don't trim your toenails.  Watch the road!  An accident can occur in a split-second, and will!  

Next, be sure to look at your side mirrors and your rear view mirror, no less often than once every ten seconds.  Without fail.  You will see an accident coming before it gets to you, thus enabling you to avoid it.  

Like a matador in the arena, you have to see the bull to dodge it...

Third, drive with the flow of traffic.  Pay no attention to the speed limits (except those around schools).  The cops don't either.  They're looking for the "rabbit" to come shooting out of the pack.  And they love to chase rabbits.  Its like hunting for them.  So blend in with the flow.  And situate yourself a half-mile or so behind that rabbit...and run!  And don't tailgate.  Don't be the rabbit and you won't get stopped.

Fourth, buy a radar detector.  They work super, keep you from getting those infernal tickets, startle you awake with their incessant beeping, and are cheap enough to afford.  NOTE:  They are illegal in some states, but can be quickly taken down and hidden in the event you get pulled over.

Fifth, Don't drive bright red, bright yellow or bright orange cars.  They stick out like a diamond in a goat's ass.  And room temperature I.Q. Road Pirates, looking to make their bones via your wallet, will go where their beady eyes take them.  And those eyes look for bright colors.  Don't stick out and you won't get caught.

Sixth:  Get yourself good dash and rearview cameras, and use them.  It's much easier to show a cop what happened on a video, then to try to tell them what happened when it's your word against the guy who hit you.  

Seventh:  My training to become a clinical psychologist taught me that fully 3% of everyone you meet on the highways and byways of life are either drunk or stoned or Riker's Island-crazy.  So you have to assume they want to kill you.  And take appropriate action not avoid that unwanted outcome.  Drive Defensively!  And if you feel at all impaired, whether sleepy or screwed up, Uber it or pull over and take a nappy, or just stay home and play with the cat.  

It's about $15,000 cheaper than a DUI... 

Eighth:  Drive with your doors locked.  At all times.  And your windows rolled up.  And maintain a ready access to a weapon, if at all possible.  A sawed-off pool cue will do, or maybe a sawed-off shotgun.  But I prefer my Smith & Wesson Model 642 Scandium Lightweight, 14.5 ounce .38 Special.  It can bring an attempted carjacking to an immediate halt.  Happened to me one evening in St. Louis.  Had the would-be jacker not noticed my monster Model 29 Smith .44 Mag (Dirty Harry Special) resting comfortably on my lap at the time, I assure you he would have at least taken my car, and maybe shot me.  

Or attempted to...

Oh yeah, it's illegal in most Deep Blue States, like the one in which I find myself, to carry a firearm within your vehicle.  The reasonable, rationale states do, all 27 of them, but that's for another spleen venting.  However, I'd offer you'll never be caught with one unless something like the above occurs.  And if it does, I'd know I'd rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6...

And ninth, finally, give your car the once-over before you drive off.  You might notice a low tire, which could prevent a flat on the freeway, which could prevent you from being rear-ended and suffer a firey death from some drunk in his Tesla while taking an autopilot nap.  You might notice you've got a tailight out, which could alert a cop and cause a stop.  And you don't want a stop.  Once they stop you they almost have to write a little "invitation to appear."  Or maybe you might notice an animal under one of your tires.  Ya' see how that goes?

And remember, every move you make is a risk you've chosen to take before you take it.*  A move which might kill you.  Learn to pre-think of all the ways you can die in that 4,000 or 5,000 pound missile before you turn the key.  

And then maybe don't...

*     We humans marvel at ther risks some of our fellow citizens are willing to take.  Risks which could kill them.  Like the folks in that little tin can near the Titanic a few days ago.  Sadly.  We watch people climb moutains and soar into space and go deep into the oceans with our mouths agape.  We luuuuve the fact that THEY do it, but we sure as Hell wouldn't want to join them.  That's because we're wired to do any and everything to stay alive, at all costs, from the moment we touch that hot stove.  So those willing to short-circuit that wiring and test the boundaries gain our both our rapt attention and our sympathy for their stupidity...

Big Bizz Opportunity!

The way I see, it won't be long before Central America is empty.

As in, nobody home.  Lights out.  Everybody's up and gone.  Buh bye!

To where?  To America! (with Rita Moreno singing the refrain from "West Side Story" in the background: "I'd like to be in America, everything's great in America!").  Yes, fellow Pilgrims, we're "welcoming" several thousand of them every single day.  Those folks from Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras and Nicaraugua, to be specific.  

The so-called "Triangle Countries."  The ones separating North America from South America.  Down there near the Panama Canal.  

Of course, we've welcomed new almost-Democrats from 156 countries so far.  Including China, Russia and Cuba.  And Burkino Faso and Turkmenistan.  But far and away, our new "guests" are pouring in from the "Triangle Countries."

And it won't be long before they'll be no one left there, either, 'cause they'll all be here.  Talking to each other on their "free" cell phones, taking tours of Central Park before they go back home to Time's Square's ROW Hotel for a nice hot meal.  A nice hot "culturally appropriate" meal, I might add.  And maybe a massage.  All paid for by you and me.  Rent-free in a $256.00 a night room.  In a hotel completely full of illegal immigrants.  

What could possibly go wrong with this plan? 

Now let's talk facts:  There are some 43.15 million people living in those four countries.  Or, at least there were.  According to the Secretary of State of Guatemala, as an example, one-third of his country is already in the United States ("Everthing's great in America!").  And one could presume, therefore, that now the floodgate's wiiiiiiddde open, courtesy of our uber-liberal Mumbler-in-Chief, the rest will be here soon.  

And pull up a seat at our Table, and begin to eat.  And eat.  And eat... 

And so will the residents of the other countries.  So by the time O'Biden is dragged kicking and screaming from the Oval Office, we could expect another 43 million residents.  At least.  To add to that forever "11 million" we were always told about.  For decades.  

Our Gubmint wouldn't lie to us, would it?

Like they didn't about UFO's?

Now, we could easily pack all 43 million in Texas, which is the size of Europe (they're each 600 miles across.)  And maybe that's Old Rickety's goal.  To pack our once-Great County full of illegal aliens, and then "declare" them citizens by fiat someday in the very near future.  "POOF!"  So they could vote.  Democrat.  Forever.  And ever.  And thus tip the balance of power in our Country forever.  

And ever...

So here's what I'm thinking.  Between these four countries, there's more than 1,506 miles of pristine shoreline.  On both the Atlantic and the Pacific Oceans of these four countries.  Which have not been developed because these countries are sh*tholes.  Run by communist and socialist dictators.  Who steal from their citizens and make life miserable.  And that's why they're fleeing.  To our back yard...

So I say let's put together an investor group and go there and start building hotels on those beautiful beaches!  1,500 miles!  Do you know how many Hilton's that is?  And you know what would happen then?  All those "refugees" who are fleeing for a better life would turn around and head back south!  To one of our lovely hotels.  To work for a living wage.  In countries where they'd really rather live!  Paid by a conservative who values his/her/its employees.  

Whaddaya' think, fellow Patriot?  Can I count you in?  Just dm me and we'll wait for the Triangle Countries to be empty so we can mount our assault.  On the beaches of... 

            ...New America!!!!!!   

Cops: Operating Under a Misconception.

First, thanks to everybody for their kind comments on the untimely passing of my friend, Victor Arbuzow.  One of his daughters grafted my blog posting to her FaceBook page, so it got wide exposure.  He will be fondly remembered.  I can only hope my passing will be as impactful.  

Now then, back to bizzness...

Okay, so nobody asked me, but I just have to offer my opinion on cops and policing in 2023.  Read it and see if you agree with me...

I believe cops think of themselves as our Centurians, our Defenders of the Freedom.  A paramilitary force, all dressed up like they're ready for battle, dwindling in number and competence, which stands between us and anarchy.  Supposedly.  And not doing a very good job, I might add.  Those who consider themselves our very best and brightest.  And actually believe it...

And then there are those who hired them to take out the trash; the human trash.  That would be us, the taxpayers.  The citizens.  Those of us who've crafted rules and regs for our encampment under which we've all agreed to comport ourselves.  And some people just cannot.  Or will not.  And we need some other folks to corral them, so to speak, and "bring them back within the fold."  

So to speak.

So the cops view themselves as superior to the average citizen for whom they work, and who deny that understanding; and the citizens who love cops when they don't need them, and hate them when they do.  In other words, they hate us and we hate them, but they work for us, and don't acknowledge it.

Remember the phrase they hate: "When seconds count, the police are only minutes away."

I believe the citizens of our America may well be operating under a misconception.

A serious, serious misconception.

Why?  I think the 97% of our citizenry who are not peace officers would like to believe that the 3% who are, are in fact good, God-fearing, red-blooded, honest and honorable 'Muricans, who live up to the oath they've taken, and would take a bullet for us if necessary.  

We'd like to believe that, but we just can't.

That's because I believe the dreaded pandemic may well have flushed-out most of the good cops, and left the bad ones behind.  

The good ones, the not-yet-corrupt ones who'd only been police officers for a few short years, and could flee without losing much, did.  And the ones with some years under their Sam Brown belts would put in for retirement and move to Florida.  Quickly!  

Who would they be leaving behind?  Perhaps the thugs.  The ones who do "mag dumps" on the poorer of thier citizens when no one is watching.  "Turn that camera off!" 

And the old, un-promotable dummies who couldn't pour piss out of a boot.  The ones with 25 or 30 years on the force, driving the old Crown Vics, trying to earn their keep writing tickets.  Being kept on by the Thin Blue Line.  Who won't speak up because they might be there one day.  And need the wagons to be circled for them if that time comes. 

And the crooks.  The ones with deep connections to the underworld.  And the Blue Mafia.  The cops that will lie like a rug and their partners will swear to it.   The ones who were only a small part of a then-much bigger department pre-pandemic, but are now a very big, big part of a much smaller department.  

Sadly.

And the quasi-psychotics who're in a position finally to beat back on those who preyed upon them when they were fat little kids on the schoolyard.  Enough said.   

And then there are the plain, everyday, hard-working, often heroic cops.  The vast majority of all cops, to be sure.  But outshown by the often immoral, unethical and even illegal actions of their brethern.

The police officers, and the sheriffs' deputies, and the marshals.  And all of those who get up every morning, put on a stiffly-pressed uniform and all the accrourement associated with being a peace officer, strap on their gun and their badge, and head on out.  Perhaps for the last time.  Because that's what it means to be a cop.  To be between us and the Bad Guys.  Today might well be your last day.    Because you are a Spartan!  A Defender of Freedom!  And Peace!  And you will lay down your life for another!  And take one only if absolutely necessary!

Which happened 894 times last year.  Cops killings citizens, that is.

Yes, you are our Tip of the Our Spear.  You hold your head high, cruising around, looking for Bad Guys.  Or, just average, everyday citizens who you can rob out of another week's salary for driving 10 over.  And you just cannot for the life of you figure out why the uber-liberal city councils of our 50 largest and Bluest cities wanted to defund you.  Defund the police, they cried!  And they took $Millons out of your budgets, making it near impossible for you to do your jobs.  Causing deep-seated animosity within their ranks.  And they are pissed!  And anyone with any sense would be as well.

So, 880,000 of our citizens are now patrolling our streets and highways, taking out the trash.  Our Human Trash.  Those of our friends and neighbors in uniform who've signed on to do our dirty work.  A higher level of civil servant than our garbage collectors, mind you, yet a "garbage collector" nonetheless.  A collector of wounded and damaged souls.  Our garbage.  Dangerous souls!  Ones we need to corral for our mutual safety.  Let's not sugarcoat it; they are our First Line of Defense Against the Bad Guys.  And they are by-and-large underpaid for the risks they take.  

And I suggest that those of our youth who grew up "always wanting to be a cop," and chose to be that cop in the Big City where there was better pay and better action than in Small Town America, are now "wanting to be that cop" in Sweet Springs, Arkansas, and Salina, Kansas, and Rifle, Colorado, rather than Chicago, Illinois (eeuuwwww!).  

But that doesn't mean that we are all singing from the same hymn book, and on key!  

Nosirree Bob!  

Think of it this way; police recruits have to undergo 661 hours of training to become a peace officer here in California.  Only.  That's somewhere around 24 weeks, at 40 hours per.  And they get 40 hours of training on the law!  Ya' kidding me!  40 hours?  I've been studying CA law since I've been here, more than 48 years, during which I ran a profitable business for 38 of them, and I'm pretty sure I've undergone more training than that.  Just watching Cops on TV qualifies me by osmosis!

So in addition to just sitting on the sideline and chirping, let me provide my suggestions as to how we can improve this currently intolerable and unworkable situation:

First:  Take off all the Sam Brown belts and the xtra ammo magazines and the tasers and the billy clubs and the five pound flashlights, and the pepper sprays, and put a comfy Columbia fishing shirt over your b.p. vest and return yourself to street policing.  Walk a beat.  Get to know folks.  Get out from under your desks and out of your black-and-whites and patrol your communities.  Reserve heavily armed Spartan-ry for a select force, like SWAT, you could call in when necessary.  Another level between your current "Code 3" and SWAT.  But until then, start being the Beat Cop once again.  The ones we've always known and loved.

Second, stop bleating about being afraid of every noise you hear, like everyone is trying to kill you.   Stop treating like this is just another job with dangers you should dissavow.  "Officer safety," we keep hearing.  "Take your hands out of your pockets."  How about "Citizen safety," for a change?  If you stop acting like you're a target, maybe you'll stop being a target!

Third, give these Road Pirates another couple or three weeks of training on the law. Whatever the cost, the savings in lost law suits has to make up for it.  And maybe, just maybe they'll break fewer laws in the pursuit of commendations and awards.  If these civil servants are empowered to enforce laws they don't even know know about or understand, but are allowed to make up on the spot, we're all screwed.*  

Fourth:  The cops should host community workshops to introduce themselves to Mr. and Mrs. and Mzzz. taxpayer.  And especially to the kids, who are growing up in the inner-cities believing cops are the bad guys and to be feared.  And murdered, if you can get away with it.  If that cycle of hate can be broken, we all win. 

*   Except for the State that is.  The State gets most of that $500 from your speeding ticket.

RIP, Vic...

Yesterday, June 15th, 2023, my best friend Victor Arbuzow passed away at 8:53 a.m. from complications associated with heart disease.  

He and I saw each other only this past Sunday at my grandson Lucas' high school graduation party.  He looked as always; smiling, jovial, robust, hearty.  Yet, that same heart stopped Wednesday afternoon at 3:30, and could not be restarted for 12 minutes despite aggressive CPR.  He was rushed to a local hospital ICU and was placed on a "do not resuscitate."  

And as I said, he passed away yesterday morning.  Shockingly.  I was not ready for this.  We were not ready for this...

I'd known Vic for more than 48 years.  My wife Elaine, Vic's sis-in-law, introduced me to him upon our first trip to New York City.  The home of them both.  And me, a kid from a tiny town in the Upper Midwest, was rather overwhelmed by it all.  Yet he, although younger (he was almost 73 at his passing), took me under his wing and ushered me through the process of becoming his brother-in-law.  His very POLISH Catholic brother-in-law.  For his verrrry POLISH Catholic family.  

Which I did on 4/20/77.  He actually supplied his decked-out conversion van as our limo.  He was always there for us, until we got on our feet, and then were often there for them.  He and MaryAnne, his beloved wife and Elaine's sister.  We went everywhere together.  Elaine and I even hired Mare to work for our company.  They lived down the street.  We were in each other's homes daily.  Like that... 

Did I mention that Vic was the funniest guy I ever met?  Well, he was.  He looked like Rodney Dangerfield, and could do a spot-on immitation of him upon request.  A like 9 out of 10 immitation.  he was jovial, humorous, profane, hyper-religious (an oxymoron?), and always full of good cheer.  Always.  And as full of Hell as anyone I've ever met...

Have you ever known anyone who instantly commanded the room, no matter when, or what time?  Who could make life-long friends in an instant?  Who could get you to forgive his flaws like you would for no one else?

He and I got into waaaay more trouble over the decades then I can, or should, relate.  And it was all his fault.  Ahem.  I'd come to NYC on one of our two or three-times a year vacays, and we'd proceed to cause all sorts of grief!  Listen to this:  Vic had this famously enormous appetite, see, so we'd hop in his car to get away from the kids.  He had two and I had four.  He'd pick a restaurant at random.  He'd say, "Just follow my lead.  And look important."  

We'd enter, often late on a weekend evening, and he'd flash an obviously phony badge.  Obvious to me, anyway, not them.  He'd tell the owner that we were from the Health Department, come to check on his food.  And the way Vic would tell them he could do that...was by ordering up plates of their food which we'd then consume!  With wine!  All on the house!   And when he'd agree to give them a passing grade, they'd nearly kiss his hands!  

Are you reading this!  

And he (we) didn't do this once.  Or three or four times.  I'd guess we pulled this prank at least twenty times over several of my visits.  With nary a snag.  No questions asked.  And even though I'm a world-class salesman, I always let Vic take the lead on these missions.  For they were his province.  I found/find it amazing that restaurant owners would roll over for something like this,* but he (we) sure did take advantage of it.

And poker games.  We had at least one all-night poker game on every single one of my visits to NYC over a 30-year period.  And it was all the Usual Characters.  Besides Vic and me, there was Richie, and Horsey, And Rudy, and Danny, and Augie, and many, many others.  And I wish we'd taped them, 'cause they'd be cable gold.  And all of this was choreographed by Vic.

Then there was the time 25 or-so years ago that Vic wanted to buy one of his daughters a car.  So I picked him up and we started checking out used car lots in Huntington Beach.  That's in Taxifornia, friends.

He had $4,000 in his pocket in case he found something we liked (a bunch of dough back then).  Vic happened to choose a back street for a u-turn so we could enter a particular lot and we were swarmed by HB's finest.  Or in our case, somewhat less than.  I was driving my all blacked out Q-45 with smoked windows.  I thought "murdered-out" looked cool.  They thought I was a drug dealer, as evidenced by the way they treated us.  

You've seen the action on COPS, I'm sure.  Felony stop, face down on the ground, cuffed and thrown in the back seat of a cruiser.  Roughed up, screamed at, deprived of our Constitutional Rights and civil liberties.  Treated like sh*t.  What else is new?  Yawnnn!  Tell somebody who cares!

They put us in the tank for more than 12 hours, then grilled us for another two.  Vic and I made a pact to remain silent once this began to unfold.  When they couldn't get anything out of us, they kicked us, at dawn, to walk home.  Five miles away.  Because they'd towed my car.  

Then I got to ransom my car back from the tow truck thieves the next morning for $245.00.  They tossed the trunk, pulled up the mats, and then disconnected the battery.  On a-then $40,000 car.  Equivelent to $80,000 today.  Were they simply jealous?    

Vic loved his two girls, Marie and Michele.  And his grandkids.  He was a family man of the first magnitude.  It's a shame his heart gave out and took him from this gauzy plane of existence.  A bit early, most would say, but he still lived a full and joyfull and important life.  He will certainly be missed.

The Pharoahs of ancient Egypt were of the belief that if their names continued to be uttered by successive generations, then they would earn their preffered afterlives, up there among the stars.  If they were correct, then Vic can be assured that his deep faith in Christ and the friends he made while with us will go a long way toward helping him secure a seat at the side of his Lord.  Forever.

I'm frankly shocked at Vic's untimely passing, and I'm trying to write this while processing grief.  Please let me know how I did... 

*   You watched the Sopranos, right?  Yeah.  And Vic could have had a lead role...

Please, God!

People have been praying to someone for something since time began. 

That's because life in this plane of existence sucks.  Really sucks!  We all know it, so there's no need pussyfooting around about it.  

We no sooner track down and do in some hairy beast - a beast that could kill us, mind you - butcher it and cook it and gobble it down, then we're hungry again.  And subjected to a whole new round of risk assessments, hopeful that our adrenaline will get us out of trouble before than sabre tooth tiger over there can eat us.  While freezing when it's cold, and stroking out when it's hot, necesssitating all sorts of accommodations in order to continue living.  

That's why we've been praying to one god or another since, like, forever.  That's why you might not be surprised to learn there are an estimated 4,000 religions.  Phew!  That's a lotta' churches and synagogs and temples and cathedrals and praying.  All reaching out for forgiveness and dispensation.  

And tithes.

There are even more than 400 sects of Protentism!  That's the non-Catholic form of Christianity, which Martin Luther (no relation to King) invented a few centuries back.     

There are the five main ones, of course; Christianity, Islam, Juddaism, Hinduism and Buddism (that last one was a 9 foot-tall guy with blue skin.  I'd like to know more about that!).   But there are innumerable offshoots and branches and synods and splinter groups, representing any and every view as to how the afterlife looks and how we should be preparing for it.  Right there in front of God and everybody...

Most of the religions are fairly mainstream.  But some are pure cults.  Like Scientology.  Hubbard was right when he said creating a religion was where the big money was hiding.  And some are just plain wierd.  I'm talking speaking in toungues and kissing rattlesnakes.  That's just plain strange in my view. 

But hey, different strokes for different folks.

But there are the folks who do that in the name of securing the Golden Ticket to salvation.  But even that can't equal what the ancient Pharoahs did to seek the afterlife.  Just look at those pyramids and you'll see!  There was this whole industry of death preparation that began with birth.  All-consuming.  But then again, they didn't have the internet to keep them entertained.

But I've found most folks start to get religion the older they become.  Just as there are no athiests in foxholes, so are there no athiests on deathbeds.  Or at least one would assume.  Stupidity has to end somewhere, right?  And that would be a good place.

So, being one of those folks who've been enthralled with religion my entire life (I've read the Bible twice), I'm even more involved in prepping for my own passing then most.  As a matter of fact, I'm sort of looking forward to what happens when I leave this gauzy plane of existence.  

But just to put a wrap on this, I adhere to Pascal's Theory.  He said live your life as if there's a Higher Being, who will reward you upon your passing.  Because if you're right, you win.  And if you're wrong, you'll never know it, since you'll be dead.  And your friends and family will sing your praises because you were such a great guy.

And what's wrong with that?

(BTW, I don't consider it haunting unless it spooks the hauntee...)

EUREKA!

I have the solution to one of America's most recent "problems."  

Our panties are in a bunch because President #45 has been indicted 37 times by President #46, his past and possibly-future opponent for the 2024 General Election.  

Relax, fellow Patriots, this is a non-problem.  Because I, The Chuckmeister, have the EUREKA Moment!  I have the answer to this entire problem!  Here we go:

     -  Trump immediately drops his campaign for POTUS as a REPUBLICAN, and immediately files for POTUS as a DEMOCRAT!

He then demands a debate, which puts him and O'Biden and Marianne and RFK on the same stage at the same time.  That ought to be worth the price of admission.  We're talking Super Bowl-type viewership here.  Who do you think would win?  And then who would the Democrats vote for?  

The 30% of them who still love Joe (ya' kiddin' me?) would still vote for Joe.  A third would probably stay home in a fit of pique (doncha' love that word?).  The remainder?  I gotta' tell ya' I think the Dems are so looney that about a third would vote for Trump between puffs.  

HE COULD THEN IMMEDIATELY PARDON HIMSELF, AND GO ON ABOUT THE PEOPLES' BUSINESS.

Ya' feel me?

Disabled Thieves, Rejoice!

First, lemme' say something that all my readers can agree with:  "All baby mammals are cute."

There.  I said it.  We're all now filled to the brim with the warm and fuzzies, and thus I shall put forth my latest spleen vent**  Here goes...

Praise Jesus!  This is almost as good as having my infirmaties taken away!

One of California's many State senators (we hire the handicapped) just made it sooooo much easier for us disabled folk to get in on The Action.

The Action?  I'm talking about shoplifting, folks!  Living Better For Less!  The Five Finger Discount!  The new Gold Rush here in the once-Great State of Taxifornia.

"They" have stuff.  "We" want it.  "They" want to be paid.  "We" say "Do you know where you are?"

Yep, Dave Cortese (D-San Jose) sponsored a brand new law, to be added to the 366,664 laws we already have on the books in the Once-Great State, which nearly all of our police commit to memory, no doubt, during their 668 hours of Police Academy training, to make it illegal for employees to go after those who are stealing stuff from their stores.*  

'Cause they might get hurt.

Ummm, what?

Think about that.  Senate Bill 553, so far unnamed, would make it a misdemeanor for the cashier at a Wal-Mart to chase down a perpetrator.  'Cause he/she/it might get bruised.  Can't have that, now can we?  So the thief gets away (the D.A. would have no cash-bonded him out before noon anyway), but we have the cashier?

Is this Bizzzzzzarro World?  

We all know you can steal up to $995.00 per day, per store, and face no further whiplash than a $50.00 ticket to appear.  For a misdemeanor.  Without an appearance date.  And that's only if a cop shows up.  And there's damn few of them these days, I might add, so showing up seldom happens.  So we're talking wanton thievery, here folks, delivered on a Grand Scale.  Making it impossible for businesses to turn a profit.  Forcing many of them to abandon their stores and run for the exits.

9,765 people left San Franpoopco last year.  That's 5.7% of their entire population.  Among the more than 400,000 who bailed from our failed State.  Won't be long before there's nobody left to chase theives!

So I, The Chuckmeister, being a disabled person who would otherwise like to get in on that Gold Rush, have been quite upset at my Uber-Liberal Gubmint here for not accommodating me.  In fact, I was about to file suit against the Gubmint for not making shoplifting more accessible to aged citizens with infirmities.  While needing a walker.  But now they have.

Disabled Thievery Tourism is on the way.  Assuming there are any businesses still open to rob.***  

*     Although not good at much, I am famous for my long and convoluted sentences.  And they're FREEEE!

**   Thank you so much for permitting me to vent my spleen on a regular basis, thus enabling me to retain some semblance of sanity in these insane times...

***  NOTE:  No guarantee expressed or implied is offered that any business will still be open by the time you get finally get here...

How's a Guy Supposed to Get Laid?

Looking back, I had it pretty easy.

If I saw a hot chick at the other end of the bar, and she wasn't wearing a Harley-Davidson motocycle chain around her neck, I'd assume she was heterosexual.  As in, "normal."  

As in, we had no reason to suspect anything else.  When I was a young guy trying to get laid there were only two genders from which to select; men and women.  And those pretending to be men and/or women.  

You could go into bars, or gyms, or classrooms, or supermarkets, or the local airport, and if you saw a woman, you could be almost certain that she was a woman.  As in, presumably in, or desirous of becoming involved in, a heterosexual relationship.  As in, having babies, or wishing to.  Making "boom boom."  Like that.  

And if you were desirous of casual sex, your main goal would be to avoid those sticky relationships so you could continue your hunt.  Like a lion on the Serengheti.  Your "man-card" would command it.  Notches on the old belt.  Gotta' compete, right? 

But not now.  Oh NOOOOOOOOOOO!  I can't comment on other states, but here in California we now have 

                       57 genders!  

No sh*t!  

When I heard that some commie pinko dumbass liberal weenies were proclaiming that a few years back I chuckled to myself, thinking it was all a joke.  It's NO JOKE!  We've got people so confused about there sexuality here that there's almost not enough genders to go around!  

See that cute chick at the other end of the bar?  She might be one of those "genderfluid" folks you now read about.  Whatever that is.  She also might have a Johnson longer than yours.  They have so many confused folks they have a bunch of letters to go by.  Maybe they ought to have to print little cards to pass out upon entering a pick-up place explaining their particular affliction.  'Cause I can just imagine what might happen if an errant pass just happened to land on a lesbian MMA fighter in a bad mood.  I mean, I've risked getting popped for some of my better pickup lines, but I'd need to know the chromosome count now before unleashing them.**

I guess that's why, for the very first time, our birth rate has failed to achieve a replacement level.*  As in, more died last year than were born.  Maybe the explosion of genders might just have forced young, eligible, horny men to decide to take a ride with Rosy and her five daughters...than to go looking for a little action from one of those daughters...

*     Department of Health and Human Services, 2023 

**    Were you hurt when you fell from Heaven?

Where My Free Stuff?

When I moved to California back in the mid-1970's, although California was our richest State, the minorities among us needed some help.  Just like today.  And those in the majority provided it back then.  And as it turns out, that majority happened to be 74.6% White.  

White like me.

Now, 50 years later, White folks represent 34.5% of CA's population, and we need some help.  And that help must come from the majority.  And as it happens, that majority is now 39% Hispanic.  Or "LatinX."  Or whatever.  So there's now more of "them" then there is of "us."  And we're due our free stuff.  

And we want it.

BTW, CA's racial mix continues on with Asians and Pacific Islanders at 15%, Blacks at 5%, Multi-Racial/ Multi-Cultural 4% and Native American/Alaskan 1%.  And I'm guessing those folks would like their free stuff too.  

From those in the majority.

We're talking free cell phones here, and free hotel rooms, and free food, and free clothing, and free plane and train and bus fare, and a free education for our kids, who we want you to pay to birth.  And we want that stuff now.  'Cause this is 'Murica.  And the borders are w - i - d - e open.

Joe said so.

And we want free comfort animals if we get PTSD from waiting too long.  For our free stuff.  Which we're figuring you're going to try and keep from providing.

Because we're White.

I'm figuring the ACLU will sue on our behalf, right?  RIGHT?

I'd like to say how sorry I am for being White.  I'd like to say that, but I can't...

Karma's a Bit*h.

It's easy to be a "sanctuary" city to illegal aliens until they start winding up on your doorstep.

Like has been happening for the past couple of years on NYC Mayor Eric Adam's doorstep.  He's "welcomed" more than 43,500 of them so far, and is suggesting the City re-think its "sanctuary" policy.  A policy that legally requires it to shelter its incoming homeless.

Right now nearly 40% of all NYC's hotel rooms are occupied by illegal immigrant families (our Constitution calls them illegal aliens).  At a cost of some $210 a day, each.  Or the monumental sum to the taxpayers of $4.3 Billion Dollars for the current year.

That's just for the current year!

Hmmmm, maybe there really is reaction to every action.

And this reaction is Southern border governors choosing to "share the wealth" of unwanted immigrants with their Northern neighbors.  Especially since those Southern governors never proclaimed their states as "sanctuaries."

So beyond keeping tourists away, which NYC thrives on, needs,  this homeless deal is about to get mucho worse.  If you do the math, ALL of the hotel rooms in NYC will be occupied by illegals by the time people start to mail in their ballots for the 2024 General Election.  

Their tourism industry will have dried up.  Their businesses will have folded their tents and moved on.  The tumbleweeds will be blowing down 6th Avenue.  NYC will become SFO-East.  How bad do you have to hate a town, or a Country, to do this to it?  Ask your friendly Democrat and find out...

Ever wanted to visit Medellin or Caracas or Tegucigalpa but didn't want to go to the hassle of an intercontinental trip?  Well, soon you'll be able to visit Central American slums by simply taking a trip to New York City.  Lucky you.   

Just exactly when do these vacuous, two-dimensional clowns decide to give up and wave the white flag?  To decide that their idiotic, lunatic-ic plans and strategies didn't work, and will never work, and start lending their efforts to the benefit of the masses?

Oh, I'm sorry, I had a brain fart there.  They never will.  

Never.

The "Law of Unintented Consequences."

So what could possibly go wrong...

Our cities and municipalities hire cops to protect and preserve the peace.

And then some among us do their very best to "defund the police," believing some other system would better serve society.  Or no other system.

This fractures the already tentative relationship between society and those they hire to ride herd upon it.  

In the most recent example, Big Blue cities defunded their police forces in the aftermath of St. George of Fentanyl's timely death.  Most of the tentured cops retired, and the seasoned ones moved to outlying cities where they paid more and actually liked their police.

It could be those who remained with their departments are just not employable elsewhere.  Or those who due to attrition are now in positions of authority, whereas before would not be.  And perhaps shouldn't be.  And those who are now less well-managed than before, as their managers all left.  And they can now do the things the cop-haters have been accusing them of doing all along, without retribution.  Worst fears realized.  And those who are so green and new they don't know how it's supposed to be, and thus will now do it wrong.  For their entire careers.

Remember, trainee cops get a grand total of 188 hours of training over a 24-6 week period.  And then remain in training for at least another year before they can be released to perform regular duties.  That means all the cops these cities chased away cannot be replaced with the same city council vote it took to run them away.  The solution is two years away.  You dummies.  

But worst of all, cops who were always a little jumpy are now in fear for their lives.  They think every day out there is Fort Apache, and they have to be proactive in abusing citizens' rights lest they fall victim.  Which is going to result in more lawsuits and more unlawful deaths.

Have you ever heard of the "Law of Unintented Consequences?"  It basically states you do something with the very best of intentions...and instead of peaches and cream all Hell breaks loose.  In this case...all Hell broke loose.  Crime rates are up across the board and the citizens are in fear for their lives!

All in all, a wonderful system, made shit*y in some places by Democrat Leftist "Progressive" politicians.  Thank one the next time you run over him...