15 Trillion and Counting!

Remember this past August when members of Congress wailed and gnashed their teeth as they wrangled over lifting the Federal Debt Ceiling to 15 TRILLION dollars?

Well, it has taken the Obama administration all of 100 days to blow through that credit limit, and the spending spree continues. At this rate of deficit spending, we will have amassed a National Debt somewhere in the neighborhood of 19.5 TRILLION dollars by the time of our next Presidential Inauguration in January of 2013.

With the U.S. Senate still controlled by vote-buying political hacks like Democratic Majority Leader Harry Reid (who can't even bring himself to cut federal funding for the Cowboy Poetry Festival) you know we're in deep doo-doo.

I love cowboy poetry as much as the next hombre, but not when we have to borrow 40% of the funding for it from China and then stick our grandchildren with the bill.

The 2012 election cannot come a day too soon.

Check out the National Debt Clock to keep up with the latest accounting of our government's irresponsibility.

Lincoln's Thanksgiving Proclamation

It's time again to recall these wise words from our greatest President

These days, in post-Christian America, we suffer a chronic (and perhaps terminal) case of historical ignorance.

For example, many are unaware that our tradition of celebrating Thanksgiving on the last Thursday in November was established by Abraham Lincoln at the height of the civil war.

Lincoln's proclamation holds valuable lessons for us today. To gain some perspective on how far we have drifted from our foundations, try to imagine President Barack Obama speaking the following words in a televised presidential address in 2011.

Here is Lincoln's 1863 Thanksgiving Proclamation:

It is the duty of nations, as well as of men, to owe their dependence upon the overruling power of God, to confess their sins and transgressions in humble sorrow, yet with assured hope that genuine repentance will lead to mercy and pardon. And to recognize the sublime truth announced in the Holy Scriptures--and proven by all history--that those nations are blessed whose God is the Lord.

We know that by His divine law, nations like individuals are subject to punishments and chastisements in this world. May we not justify fear that the awful calamity of Civil War, which now desolates the land, may be a punishment inflicted upon us for our presumptuous sins--to the needful end of our national reformation as a whole people?

We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of heaven. We have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity. We have grown in numbers, wealth and power as no other nation has ever grown.

But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace, and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us. And we have vainly imagined in the deceitfulness of our hearts that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace--too proud to pray to the God that made us.

It has seemed to me fit and proper that God should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged, as with one heart and one voice, by the whole American people.

I do, therefore, invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea, and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November as a day of thanksgiving and praise to our benevolent Father who dwelleth in the heavens.

A. Lincoln

Remembering Grandma

You should read this great story about a life well lived, from an acquaintance of mine named Lizzie Talcott who works as an English teacher in China. She writes a blog called Dear Life. Read Lizzie's tribute to her grandmother HERE.

Cartoon of the Week

Occupy This

"Life is tough...even tougher when you're stupid." - John Wayne

During a recent visit to Wall Street to discuss the status of my vast investment portfolio with E.F. Hutton, I heard a commotion going on some short distance away.

I followed the scent of urine that seemed to float on the breeze, and before I knew it, there I was in Zuccotti Park.

I was surprised to see a familiar face grinning at me from beneath a hoodie. It was my old high school buddy Slug. I hadn’t seen him since I helped him to get on-line a couple of years ago.

“Dude, have you come to join us?” he asked.

I was distracted for a moment by a pirate on a unicycle, and when I turned back around, Slug was standing beside me, holding a crystal pyramid in the palm of his out-stretched hand, waving it in circles over my head.

With his arm raised so close to me, I couldn’t help but notice that Slug had been neglecting his personal hygiene.

“Slug, what are you doing?” I asked as I tried to hold my breath and back away.

“Can’t you feel the aura? I just want you to become part of the vibe we have going here,” he replied earnestly.

Suddenly, Slug grabbed me by the collar and yanked me off the sidewalk just in time to save me from being knocked down by a tattooed kid on a skateboard wearing a Spiderman mask.

“Dude,’ he said, “You gotta watch yourself around here. The 99% are restless and on the move.”

“I see that,” I commented as I looked around at the milling crowd.

“So how long have you been here, Slug?”

“I was here the first week, man! I got to see Roseanne Barr give her speech.”

“That had to be a Kodak moment,” I interjected.

Slug ignored me and continued. “When I saw that first night of protest on TV, I knew I had to come down and join my brothers and sisters. The spirit of the 60’s is back, man! Look around, dude, it’s almost like being back at Woodstock.”

A young woman, with more hair than clothing, walked past us while beating a drum and chanting, “Shame on you! Shame on you!”

“Slug, you weren’t at Woodstock! Your mom wouldn’t let you go, remember?”

“Yeah, dude, but I was there in spirit! I saw the movie AND bought the album.”

I jumped back to avoid being hit be a stray Frisbee and stepped right into a pile of poop.

“Slug, this is disgusting! How can you hang out with these slobs? Can’t you people poop in a bag or something?”

I was starting to get a headache. Between the smell and the noise, I was just not feeling the aura. I said, “Slug, aren’t you getting tired of living out here in this noisy park?”

“It’s not so bad, man. We have people cooking for us, and there are rallies every afternoon when the TV crews arrive. At night we have campfires and some pretty good jam sessions. It sure beats sitting around the house.”

“Speaking of home, how is your mom doing?”

“Mom’s fine, dude. I’m sure she misses me, but she told me to stay here as long as I want. I’ll tell her you asked about her whenever I go back.”

My head was still throbbing. “Okay, Slug, so just what exactly are you protesting?”

“I’m here because of the injustice of the capitalist system. The 99% of us struggle for survival while the elite 1% gets rich off of our labor. I want my share of the wealth. I want to have decent housing, free health care and a guaranteed pension when I retire. The corporate power structure owes us for what it has stolen from us!”

I was reaching the limits of my patience.

“Slug, what are you going to retire from? You’ve been mostly unemployed and living at home with your mom for the last 12 years.”

“Hey dude, the system is rigged so that a guy like me can’t find a decent job. I’m not going to just do manual labor…I’ve got my pride, you know.”

“So you’re too proud to take a job loading trucks, but you’re not too proud to collect food stamps, unemployment and a free unfunded pension?’

“Dude, you just don’t get it. You’ve sold out to the man. You’ll never understand how we’ve been oppressed by the system!”

“Slug, I have to go. Take care of yourself, and try to keep in touch.”

“Dude, just give me your email. As soon as my IPad recharges, I’ll make sure you’re in my address book.”

I watched Slug wander off into the crowd: A crowd of Gen-Xers eating free food, camping illegally in a public park, texting and video-recording and organizing themselves with all the technological wonders produced by the capitalist system that they claim to despise -- the same capitalist system that created the national wealth that makes possible a society rich enough, and free enough, to tolerate the immature and ungrateful behavior of a group of left-wing wackos like Occupy Wall Street.

Slug was right. I don’t get it.

Herman Cain Did It!

This just in!

New allegations have surfaced in the Herman Cain sexual harassment debacle. An unidentified accuser from Alexandria Virginia now reveals that Herman Cain made her feel uneasy at a dinner party in 1998 when he appeared to be winking at her while he was scratching his eyes. More on this story at 10 o'clock!

An alleged victim has contacted the Off The Top of My Head news service to report that Herman Cain might have brushed against her thigh while standing in line at a Taco Bell in Cleveland sometime in 1993. Stay tuned for more as new reports come in.

Also, an anonymous man reports that he might have felt uncomfortable while shoe-shopping at a mall in Boston in 2001 when he thinks he saw Herman Cain looking in his direction while he took off his shoes to try on a new pair of wing-tips. The alleged victim did not report the incident at the time, but now that Herman Cain is a potential nominee, feels compelled to come forward.

Just off the wire!

A waitress at an Olive Garden Restaurant in Sheboygan believes that she was stiffed for a tip by a man who might have been Herman Cain during a busy Friday night in 1977. More details to follow.

On a more personal note, a man who looked suspiciously like Herman Cain cut me off on I-465 last Tuesday as I was trying to exit at Emerson Avenue. I have reported the license plate number to authorities.