Saturday, January 30, 2010

Evan Bayh Needs To Come Back Home

Our junior Senator from Indiana, Evan Bayh, suffers from a chronic case of chapped index finger.

This painful condition results from constantly wetting your finger and poking it up into the air to see which way the political winds are blowing.

Senator Bayh, a former Indiana Governor, who grew up here in the heartland of America, was only moderately liberal in his politics while he lived amongst us Hoosiers. He didn't do much as a Governor, which can be a good thing, since so many politicians actively do us great harm.

And since he was the three things that too many Hoosier voters look for in a candidate -- handsome, articulate, and named "Bayh" -- the people of Indiana thought it would be a good idea to send him to the U.S. Senate twelve years ago.

For a while, he behaved not-too-badly, and actually seemed to remember that he worked for the voters of Indiana. But as so often happens to men with weak convictions, the trappings of Washington soon caused Senator Bayh to forget about the Hoosiers he was elected to represent.

In this past year of monumental upheaval in our government, with the arrogant Democratic majority in power determined to shove a socialist future down our throats, we needed level-headed and principled representatives who would stand up and articulate the concerns of Hoosier citizens.

In our hour of greatest need, Senator Evan Bayh betrayed us.

The fact that he was seriously considered as Barack Obama's running mate should have indicated to us just how far to the left Senator Bayh had tipped.

He was happy to be "on board" the Obama Express, and was the 60th vote in a number of crucial Senate actions, including the vote that forestalled a Republican filibuster of the Senate's health care debate, which made it possible for Obamacare to move forward in the Senate, and would have allowed it to eventually pass with a simple majority of 51 votes.

I have no doubt that during the final vote, Senator Bayh would have voted against Obamacare, so that he could claim in his re-election campaign that he "stood up" to his party in the end, and voted as we wished. He is a slick politician, but I believe he has under-estimated the attention span of Hoosier voters one too many times.

We will remember that he was the key vote in getting health care to the floor of the Senate in the first place. He could have taken a principled stand back then, when it could have made a difference. The plain fact is, Evan Bayh sold us out. And this is just one example.

On Cap & Trade, and the pork-laden Stimulus bill, and almost every other left-wing initiative, Evan Bayh was the faithful 60th vote who made sure no Republican objections could slow down Obama's march to socialism.

Suddenly, last week, in the wake of Scott Brown's stunning upset Senate victory in Massachusetts, Senator Bayh was on the news bewailing the fact that the Democratic Party has been taken over by the radical left, and needs to move back to the political center. Gee, Evan, you think? Whatever could have changed your mind? A gale-force wind from the east, perhaps?

Serving in the U.S. Senate for a six-year term gives a man a lot of time to wander astray if he is not firmly grounded in a consistent world-view. We need a Senator whom we can trust to do the right thing regardless of which way the wind blows. We need a Senator who understands that he is serving as our representative, not as a political free-agent.

So the question we have to ask ourselves this November is: Do we want to elect a new Senator who truly reflects our Hoosier values, and will do the right thing because of his deep convictions?

Or do we want to re-elect Evan Bayh, who always has his chapped finger in the air, and only considers us worthy of his attention once every six years when he needs our votes?

Sunday, January 24, 2010

My Big Fat Bummer Weekend -- Part One

Note to self: In the future, refrain from exceeding the posted speed limit while driving past the Beech Grove Police Department headquarters.

That was my first mistake last weekend.

A mile down the road past the BGPD headquarters, I was chatting on the phone with Mrs. Smith, oblivious to my impending sorrows, when the red lights flashing through the rear window caught my eye.

"Peggy, I've gotta go -- I'm getting pulled over," I said. "I'll be home soon, I hope."

I pulled over to stop at what looked like a safe spot, turned off the engine, and waited to see what had happened. At the time, as is so often the case, I was clueless. I consoled myself with the thought that I must have burnt out a tail light.

A young police officer, who I swear could not have finished high school yet, walked up to my door and asked me if I knew why he had pulled me over.

"No officer, I don't," I replied with honest innocence.

"I clocked you doing 41 in a 25 mile per hour zone as you drove past the police station on Churchman Avenue."

Well, duh. What could I say? He was probably right, since I don't pay slavish attention to my speedometer. I am so busy practicing my finely honed defensive driving skills, constantly scanning the road ahead for potential hazards, that I don't have time to waste on constantly checking the speedometer.

My basic philosophy on speed limits has always been -- "If it feels safe to me, I'm not going too fast." I am, after all, a seasoned professional driver.

I intuitively sensed, however, that this policeman would not be interested in my defensive driving philosophy, especially in light of the fact that my finely honed defensive driving skills had not alerted me to the hazard of speeding past his police station.

I decided it was best to just take it like a man, and get it over with.

"Officer, are you telling me that I was stupid enough to speed as I drove past the police station?"

"Yes."

"Well," I sighed as I handed him my license and registration, "I guess I deserve a ticket for doing something that dumb."

He smiled as he took my documents. "I'll be right back," he said and he walked away towards his patrol car.

I sat there thinking what a crummy way this was to end the work week. Probably a fine of $100 or more. Points on my license. Driving is a major part of my job, so points are things to be seriously avoided.

I was pondering all these things when he snuck up behind me and said, "Sir, the BMV report says that your driver's license is suspended."

I did not like the sound of that. He wasn't smiling anymore, either.

My look of obvious surprise and disbelief is probably what kept him from being offended when I exclaimed, "No way!"

"I'll check it again to be sure. Please wait right here, sir."

Have you ever noticed that the more trouble you are in, the more formally a law enforcement officer will address you? It can be quite unnerving.

This time he was gone a long time. I sat there, and it occurred to me that driving with a suspended license is probably kind of serious. Could I go to jail for this? Whatever could have happened? This was the first time I had even been pulled over in almost three years. There had to be a mistake.

Suddenly he was beside me again. Do they teach them to sneak up on people like that at the Police Academy?

"Mr. Smith (now it is MR. SMITH, probably a sign that the Taser is loaded) the BMV report indicates your license is suspended, but it won't tell me why. Usually it gives a cause, but I can't get any more info on you. It could possibly be a mistake -- your record is clean for the past two years."

To make a long story short, he gave me one ticket for speeding, and another for driving with a suspended license. He said that he would not arrest me or tow my vehicle if I promised to go straight home and not drive again until my license was reinstated.

I decided, in approximately a quarter-nano-second, that I should politely accept his gracious offer and drive myself home...very slowly.

I had some business out of town on the following day, a Saturday, and my number one son, Steve, kindly offered to chauffeur me around that afternoon. Halfway to our destination, we hit a big bump on the highway. Instantly my tailpipe came loose and began clanking along on the pavement.

We pulled over. I got out, crawled beneath the van, yanked the tail pipe totally loose, and tossed it into the back.

"Wow, dad, this just isn't your day, is it?" Steve commented.

Two hours later, as we were preparing to return home, the van wouldn't start. Not even a click. Nothing.

Steve started laughing. "Dad, sometimes you just have to laugh."

Call me carnal if you must, but right then I felt no joy in my spirit.

We pulled the battery out. There was an Auto Zone store across the street. The battery tested out fine.

"Probably the starter," the Auto Zone guy said. The new starter cost me $100, but I still needed a way to install it. I didn't have the tools I needed with me.

The Auto Zone guy was helpful. "Here's a number you can call. This guy's a mobile mechanic. He's done work for us before. He'll come right out and fix it while you wait."

Auto-Zone guy handed Steve a business card that read: "8-UP Auto Repair." Well, of course! Why try to tip the scales of destiny in my favor at this point?

So Steve called him. "8-UP" arrived within 10 minutes, and had the new starter installed in less than 30 minutes. He charged me $50, which seemed reasonable enough for a house call. Maybe I can get back home and crawl into bed before anything else goes wrong today.

While "8-UP" was outside working on the van, Steve and I had ducked into a nearby Subway restaurant to grab a bite. Business was slow, since it was mid-afternoon, so we ended up talking with the two teenage girls working the counter.

Steve told them the story about my really bad bummer weekend: the speeding ticket, the suspended license, the broken tail-pipe, the starter going out. It was such a pathetic story, even I was starting to think it was funny.

As the young woman rang up my sandwich purchase, I gave her my trusty VISA card, since I was out of cash after my visit to Auto Zone.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed, and then looked at me with a blank stare. "Your credit card is denied."

I had just about had enough. How many tables will I have to bus at this Subway to pay for a foot-long value meal? Whatever happens, please don't call the cops!

"You have GOT to be kidding me!" I shouted.

She broke out laughing. "Yeah, I am."

My son really thought that was funny, too. Good thing for him he had the keys -- and a valid driver's license.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

The Revolution Comes To Massachusetts

Hell is freezing over, squadrons of pigs are circling the airport, and Hugh Hefner has taken a vow of celibacy.

Oh yes...and Massachusetts has elected a Republican to the United States Senate.

My heart doth leap for joy!

After suffering through a dismal year of unconstitutional Democratic mischief, and witnessing what practically amounted to a socialist overthrow of my country, there is finally a light at the end of this long dark tunnel. His name is Scott Brown (R) -- Massachusetts' new junior Senator.

This astounding electoral upset, the first time in 30 years for a Republican from Massachusetts to sit in the U.S. Senate, just ices the cake that was baked last November when Republican governors were elected in Virginia and (be still my beating heart) New Jersey, that bluest of the blue states.

Maybe now, with this trifecta of defeat in such liberal East Coast strongholds, media pundits and Democrat politicians will be forced to admit that the anger among the American electorate is real, deep and wide. I doubt if Nancy Pelosi will be making any more snide "astroturf" comments about this latest stinging GRASSROOTS rebuke of the leftist agenda that she has been ramming down our throats for the past year.

We had a little hissy-fit on election day in 2008, and decided to roll the dice on an untested candidate. We practically gave Barack Obama and the Democrats in Congress a blank check to fundamentally remake our way of life. But the American people have learned, the hard way, what kind of bad things happen when arrogant socialists are allowed to run the country.

Voters now realize that a one-party government with a promiscuous lust for power is not the kind of change they had hoped for.

It is a beautiful and inspiring thing to watch my countrymen come to their senses. Thank God, it appears that we have snapped back to reality just in the nick of time. There may be a future for my grandchildren yet.

If the Democrats and RINOs in Washington haven't gotten the message this time, I can only gleefully look forward to the memo we will send them this coming November.

My advice to any liberal in Washington facing re-election in 2010 is simple: Polish up your
resume, Scooter, 'cause you'll soon be goin' home.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

My 24/7 Internet Help Hotline

I was a little irritated at 2:00 a.m. when I answered the phone.

Before I could bark out a grumpy "hello" I heard, "Man, you never told me how totally amazing this was!"

It was the voice of my old buddy Slug, whom I have been helping to connect with the internet. For the past week he has been living on Red Bull and three hours of sleep each night. He's got a bad case of NIFS -- Newbie Internet Fever Syndrome.

"Slug," I said wearily, "You have got to quit calling me in the middle of the night. Some of us have to work for a living, you know."

"Bro, I'm sorry, I keep losing track of time. Is it really night now? No wonder I'm hungry. I haven't eaten since lunch."

"Slug, I warned you that the internet could be addictive. You have to make yourself take a break. Get some sleep! And quit calling me!"

"Dude, I can't help it! You never told me how much I had been missing. To think of the years I've wasted!"

"Slug, get a grip. It's just images on a screen. There is more to life than burning your eyes out staring at a computer monitor."

"You don't understand, man! You know what my life has been like -- just scraping by on dead-end jobs, can't keep a steady relationship, living paycheck to paycheck. But not anymore! I can never thank you enough for hooking me up with this computer."

I was wide awake by then, so I decided to humor him. "Slug, what are you talking about?"

"I have been getting the most amazing emails all night long. There's a beautiful, lonely Russian farm girl who wants to move to America and marry me. I think I have finally found a free cure for my E.D., and now I can earn a college degree without ever leaving home.

"Bill Gates is going to send me a check for $37,000 for forwarding an email to 50 friends, and the Nigerian Interior Minister notified me just an hour ago that I can earn a quick $250,000 by helping him set up a bank account for surplus Nigerian government funds!"

OOPS -- apparently I had forgotten to warn Slug about SPAM while I was coaching him on how to use email.

"Wow," I deadpanned, "I bet you can also find a way to make a 2,000% profit by investing in penny stocks."

"How did you hear about that?" he asked suspiciously. "That is an insider secret, and I had first dibs on that tip."

"Slug, Slug, Slug...do you believe everything you read in the newspaper?"

"The newspaper? Are you kidding? The only thing newspapers are good for these days is wiping..."

"Slug, listen to me -- think of the internet as a huge world-wide digital newspaper. No, think of it as a huge digital National Enquirer, without an editor, and every crack-smoking, rip-off, sleazeball con-artist on planet Earth is a special correspondent. You can't believe everything you read. In fact, you can't believe almost any of it. It's called SPAM."

To my surprise, Slug was speechless. I was worried about him. It can be dangerous when you come crashing down off of Red Bull at 2:00 a.m., especially on an empty stomach. And then I heard him softly mutter one word -- "Bummer."

"Slug, are you okay?"

"No lonely Russian farm girl?"

"Sorry, buddy. No."

"No check from Bill Gates? No 2,000% profit? No $75 an hour working from home?"

"No, no, and...no."

"Bummer."

"Slug, I'm sorry. I should have warned you about SPAM, but we were up until 3:30 that night getting you online, and there was so much to show you -- I just didn't have enough time or energy to explain everything in one night."

"No prob, bro," he sighed, "I think I'll just shut this down for the night and crash."

"I think that's a good idea, Slug."

Suddenly he shouted through the phone, "Dude, you won't believe the message box that just popped up on my screen!"

"Slug, calm down! Calm down! We haven't had time to discuss instant messaging yet!"

"Oh man! There are some college girls who want to party right now! I've gotta go man, I need to pick up another 6-pack of Red Bull at the 7-11."

"Slug, don't hang up! Slug! Slug?"

It was too late. I had lost him.

First thing tomorrow, I'm buying some stock in Red Bull. I got a tip that it might go up as much as 2,000%.

Friday, January 1, 2010

When Israel Draws A Line In The Sand

As 2010 begins, the clock is ticking, but is anyone in Washington paying attention?

Iran, an oil-rich oligarchy ruled by jihadist mullahs with a fanatical desire to destroy western civilization, is about to get THE BOMB.

A nuclear-armed Iran should be the worst nightmare of everyone who loves peace and liberty.

In response to this grave threat, the Obama administration makes occasional noises about stiffer UN sanctions, but the mullahs don't care about that. They are laughing all the way to the centrifuge. There are only two things that can stop the mullahs from obtaining nuclear weapons: military intervention from without, or regime change from within.

Our President has made it clear that he is no supporter of the brave young Iranian protesters who are dying in the streets of Tehran. Above all else, he seeks stability in Iran, even if it means choosing to do business with the tyrants who massacre political opposition. Without support from the west, the chances of regime change in Iran are slim and none.

The only option left is a surgical strike against Iran's nuclear facilities. That will be a difficult and dangerous mission.
Tiny Israel will have no choice but to do it. She cannot allow a hostile Iran to possess THE BOMB.

So we will let the Jews take care of this threat, just like we did in 1981, when a surprise Israeli air attack took out the Osiraq Nuclear Reactor in Iraq. We should be eternally grateful to Israel for that mission, since it kept THE BOMB away from Saddam Hussein, who fancied himself the new leader of the Arab world.

Can you imagine the problems we would have had fighting a nuclear-armed Iraq in 1991? I wonder, would we have had the stomach to liberate Kuwait, if we had known that our troops might face a nuclear attack? If not for the 1981 Israeli air strike, Saddam and his murderous gang of thugs might still be strutting unchecked across the Middle East today.


The only reason we have the luxury of ignoring the present threat of a nuclear Iran is because Israel (the Little Satan) is at the top of Iran's hit list, and Israel is a small, nearby target. For the moment, we in the United States (the Great Satan) are outside the range of Iranian missiles.

Some military experts believe that Iran is less than a year away from having THE BOMB. Of course, Iran could well be closer to possessing nuclear capabilities than we realize.

We could wake up one morning in the near future to discover a mushroom cloud sprouting over an American city, courtesy of a suicide bomber with a suitcase nuke donated by the mad mullahs. How difficult would it be to sneak a suitcase through our porous borders?

Someday soon, Israeli intelligence will ascertain that Iran is almost ready to produce THE BOMB. Israel will have to act, no matter the consequences, because inaction would guarantee an Iranian first strike that would kill hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of Jews.

When Israel is forced to attack the Iranian nuclear facilities, the Muslim world will wail and weep and cry out against the "Zionist aggression." Huge angry mobs will riot in cities throughout the Muslim world.
Demands for censure at the UN will reach a crescendo. The Arab nations may even decide to retaliate by attacking Israel. Again.

We can only hope that the USA will resist the Liberal knee-jerk response of demonizing Israel for a preemptive act of self-defense. For the truth is, western civilization will again be indebted to Israel for destroying a grave threat to the entire world.

Once again, by acting to save herself, Israel will have saved us all.