Well I Never

Jon Voight: anti-Obama column writer. Man, I never in a million years expected to read something like this from him:

Sen. Barack Obama has grown up with the teaching of very angry, militant white and black people: the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, Louis Farrakhan, William Ayers and Rev. Michael Pfleger. We cannot say we are not affected by teachers who are militant and angry. We know too well that we become like them, and Mr. Obama will run this country in their mindset.

The Democratic Party, in its quest for power, has managed a propaganda campaign with subliminal messages, creating a God-like figure in a man who falls short in every way. It seems to me that if Mr. Obama wins the presidential election, then Messrs. Farrakhan, Wright, Ayers and Pfleger will gain power for their need to demoralize this country and help create a socialist America.

The Democrats have targeted young people, knowing how easy it is to bring forth whatever is needed to program their minds. I know this process well. I was caught up in the hysteria during the Vietnam era, which was brought about through Marxist propaganda underlying the so-called peace movement. The radicals of that era were successful in giving the communists power to bring forth the killing fields and slaughter 2.5 million people in Cambodia and South Vietnam. Did they stop the war, or did they bring the war to those innocent people? In the end, they turned their backs on all the horror and suffering they helped create and walked away.

I agree, I just never thought I'd hear it from this guy. Go figure. Link from Ace.

The Horror

If you've eaten recently, you may not want to expose your central nervous system to this, or this. I tried to warn you.

Delightfully Violent

Cool video below:



From here, which I found because I was looking for Clancy T. Bachleratt and Jackie Snad's album, featured in this video:

Spaceships, Toddlers, Model T. Cars & Jars of Beer

While You Enjoy Your Air Conditioned Home

I hadn't heard much about the big fight in Afghanistan that killed nine US Airborne warriors, but here's the Stars and Stripes story about it. Amazing story:

When the attack began, Stafford grabbed his M-240 machine gun off a north-facing sandbag wall and moved it to an east-facing sandbag wall. Moments later, RPGs struck the north-facing wall, knocking Stafford out of the fighting position and wounding another soldier.

Stafford thought he was on fire so he rolled around, regaining his senses. Nearby, Cpl. Gunnar Zwilling, who later died in the fight, had a stunned look on his face.

Immediately, a grenade exploded by Stafford, blowing him down to a lower terrace at the observation post and knocking his helmet off. Stafford put his helmet back on and noticed how badly he was bleeding.

Cpl. Matthew Phillips was close by, so Stafford called to him for help. Phillips was preparing to throw a grenade and shot a look at Stafford that said, "Give me a second. I gotta go kill these guys first."

Why do I have to go all the way to Stars and Stripes to get this stuff? The only thing I had heard before this was the US body count, and how it meant we were losing the war again. This next part will be laughed about by the participant one day:

The insurgents then started chucking rocks at Gobble and Stafford’s fighting position, hoping that the soldiers might think the rocks were grenades, causing them to jump from the safety of their fighting hole. One rock hit a tree behind Stafford and landed directly between his legs. He braced himself for an explosion. He then realized it was a rock.

I would feel no shame in peeing my pants during that experience. Must be invigorating to not be blown to smithereens when you fully expect to do so.

Link from Ace.

Sweet Thing

Sabrina walks up to me while I'm laying on the couch after dinner, slaps my belly and says "You're fat, Daddy. Daddy, you're fat. You're fat, Dad." And so on. I know it will only encourage her to insult strangers, but that cracks me up like a Dennis Miller special on HBO. I can listen to it all day long. I'd like to apologize in advance to the next portly person we come across at the park or the pool.

You Decide

What's wackier: this story, or this video:



Came across the latter when I decided to see what would constitute one of the "gayest videos ever" on the Logo Channel. They weren't kidding. Frankly, I find it refreshing to hear the word "faggoty" in a song without it being a hateful rap reference. Not that I've actually heard it in that context, but I would have bet a considerable amount of money that it would sooner have come up there than here, where it's not just unashamed but exuberant. You go, um, girl.

Sure, it's almost superhumanly gay, but watch the whole thing. It's pretty catchy and inordinately hilarious.

More Ammunition

Another body blow to the anthropogenic global warming crowd over at Ace's. When you take your feelings out of the equation, the alarmist arguments don't hold up worth a damn.

First Lady of Angrytown

I don't know much about Barack Obama, and less about his wife. But this pretty well condenses what I have heard:

Consider the case of Michelle Obama. She was raised in a two-parent, middle-class family. She applied to one of America's top universities, Princeton, and was admitted. Of this experience, Michelle says on the stump, "All my life I have confronted people who had a certain expectation of me. Every step of the way, there has been people telling me what I couldn't do. When I applied to Princeton, they said: you can't go there, your test scores aren't high enough."

Which is all very moving, except that her test scores weren't high enough. Michelle Obama is part of the affirmative action generation of above-average but far-from-stellar performers who were granted preferential admission to America's most elite institutions.

Michelle notes that she graduated with honors in her major. Again, the problem is that her undergraduate thesis is on the web. You might expect that she wrote about Shakespeare's sonnets or the political evolution of W.E.B. Du Bois. Well, no. Essentially Michelle Obama wrote about the problems of being a black woman at an Ivy League university.

Here is a typical passage: "By actually working with the Black lower class or within their communities as a result of their ideologies, a separationist may better understand the desparation of their situation and feel more hopeless about a resolution as opposed to an integrationist who is ignorant to their plight."

Alas, the grammar is all wrong here. More than once, the tenses are garbled. People are ignorant "of" the plight of the lower class, not ignorant "to" their plight. And"desparation" should be spelled "desperation." To wreak so much havoc on the English language in one sentence, without conveying anything of substance, is perhaps deserving of a prize. Is this what her professors were thinking when they granted her honors?

I think Laura Bush may well be right when she defends Mrs. Obama's statement that she's only recently proud of her country (Mrs. Bush says she misspoke, and meant "more proud"), but the tone of her speeches is a bitter one. I don't understand that, considering her own fairly privileged life. D'Souza's best paragraph is this one:

One might expect that the reaction of someone who gets so many privileges to be grateful to a society that makes them possible. But no. Michelle Obama thinks that her very success is an example of white oppression. By a bizarre twist of logic, she converts "you're not good enough, but we'll take you anyway" into a message of "they said I wasn't good enough, but I proved them wrong."

Maybe it's a case of identifying with her husband's base, I don't know. I just know it comes across pretty nasty and ungrateful considering how well she's made out.

Sweet Little Monkey

My wonderful sister Genie took this one, seems likely to be at a park somewhere but I don't know which one. What a darling she is for taking it and emailing it over. Sabrina is just too photogenic for words, and I worship her.

Sweet Child O' Mine

I've been pretty mangled lately, my neck's been in a state of unpleasantness that is extraordinary even for me (I'm pretty used to being screwed up spinally and enduring it without much complaint, but this last month has been extra nasty), and my daughter has been very sweet about it. Today I was holding her hands as she bounced on an exercise ball, not supporting her weight but steadying her so she wouldn't fall, and she suddenly dropped to bounce on her bottom. I wasn't expecting it, and the sudden drop just killed my neck, upper back and head with a lightning bolt of death. I squealed "OW OW Ow ow ow ow ow" and dropped her as soon as she could safely land on her feet, and then I kind of went fetal and moaned for a while.

Sabrina immediately started patting my neck and upper back gently, and said "It's OK, Daddy, you're OK," very softly over and over again. She stayed with me for a long time, leaving for a minute to tell Mommy about Daddy's booboo, and then she came back to take care of me some more. I don't think I've ever been comforted by a child before, and certainly not my own child, so through the miserable pain I could only think of how proud I was of her, and how grateful I was to have her there. I don't know where she learned that, but I'm again struck by what an amazing little girl she's turning out to be.