The State of Our Union Is Broke!

Once again, Mark Steyn cuts through the hyperbole and makes us laugh all the way to the poor-house. READ MORE

Cartoon of the Week

Courtesy of National Review Online (click on image to enlarge)

See What Tax Increases Did for Illinois

John Hayward of Human Events wrote a great short piece about the credit downgrade in Illinois that begs the question: "If Liberalism is the answer to our problems, why is every Liberal state going bankrupt?" READ MORE

We Don't Need No Stinkin' Constitution!

Let us pause for a moment of silence and give thanks for the wise beneficence of our exalted El Presidente, Obama the First.

He is a man on a mission. He came to Washington to get things done. And he is too big a man, too great a visionary, to allow himself to be constrained by the laws that restricted the powers of former presidents.

El Presidente's latest assertions of executive power, his recess appointments made while the Senate was not in recess, were bold and creative end-runs around the dilly-dallying of Congress.

“We can’t wait,” Obama said recently when he appointed Richard Cordray as director of the newly created Consumer Financial Protection Bureau (CFPB). He also made three new appointments to the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB), after giving the Senate less than a month to consider two of the three nominations.

In former times, our less illustrious presidents allowed the Constitution to impede their progress towards authoritarian rule. They respected that pesky clause in the Constitution concerning the "Advice and Consent" powers of the Senate in regard to executive branch appointments.

But not El Presidente! He is a man of action! When the Senate wanted to slow down the appointment process and legislate some limits to the regulatory powers of the new CFPB, our Dear Leader unilaterally declared the Senate to be in recess, and then proceeded to make a recess appointment.

Never before in our history has a president taken it upon himself to decide when the Senate was in recess. The senators used to do that for themselves. The wimps.

But with Obama the First in the White House, we don't have to worry about long, boring congressional debates, or political compromise. I know I'll sleep better tonight knowing that he holds the reins of power.

El Presidente has compiled an impressive resume of extra-Constitutional actions, some of which are listed below, courtesy of Heritage.com.

In a recent article at Heritage.com, Lachlan Markay detailed some of the Great One's executive excesses:

"The Democrat-controlled Senate rejected his cap-and-trade plan, so Obama’s Environmental Protection Agency classified carbon dioxide, the compound that sustains vegetative life, as a pollutant so that it could regulate it under the Clean Air Act.

"After Congress defeated his stealth-amnesty immigration proposal, the DREAM Act, the Department of Homeland Security instructed Immigration and Customs Enforcement officials to “adopt enforcement parameters that bring about the same ends as the DREAM Act,” as Heritage’s Mike Brownfield explained.

"When the woefully misnamed Employee Free Choice Act–explicitly designed to bolster labor unions’ dwindling membership rolls–was defeated by Congress, the NLRB announced a rule that would implement “snap elections” for union representation, limiting employers’ abilities to make their case to workers and virtually guaranteeing a higher rate of unionization at the expense of workplace democracy.

"After an innovation-killing Internet regulation proposal failed to make it through Congress, the Federal Communications Commission announced — on Christmas Eve, no less — that it would regulate the Web anyway, despite even a federal court’s ruling that it had no authority to do so.

"In its push for national education standards, the Education Department decided to tie waivers for the No Child Left Behind law to requirements that states adopt those standards, shutting Congress out of the effort.

"Rather than push Congress to repeal federal laws against marijuana use, the Department of Justice (DOJ) simply decided it would no longer enforce those laws.

"DOJ made a similar move with respect to the Defense of Marriage Act: rather than seeking legislative recourse, DOJ announced it would stop enforcing the law."

Profit Makes the World Go 'Round

John Hayward of Human Events wrote a great piece recently praising the moral superiority of the profit motive as a way of getting things accomplished.
READ MORE

The Stranger Sitting Next to You

Where Can a Desperate Man Go to Find Hope?

A visitor came to our church last Sunday.

Joe had been raised in a Christian home, but drifted away from the church in his teen years. He had seen a lot of Christians talking the talk, but very few walking the walk, so he finally concluded that "religion" was a bunch of baloney, and he decided to make his own way in the world.

As Joe grew older he discovered that his life, without God, was falling apart. His third marriage was in shambles. He was struggling with alcoholism. Lately he had been so depressed that he was contemplating suicide.

Joe was at the end of his rope. He was searching for answers. He realized something in his life had to change.

Someone in our congregation invited him to church last week, so he came here to visit. During the service, Joe was thinking, "God, I need to know if you are real. I need to know if you can help me. I just can't take it anymore."

When the pastor finished his sermon, he began to give an invitation. Joe sat in his pew, listening intently, desperate for something to give him hope. He wondered if God really cared about him. Was He truly listening? Would He really take back this lost sheep?

In an auditorium filled with people who profess to know the Almighty God, one might expect that there would be a reverent, prayerful silence while the preacher invited a lost sinner to step into eternal life by giving his heart to Jesus.

Aside from worshiping God, what activity could possibly have a higher priority in a Bible-believing church than introducing someone to their Creator?

But our visitor could not hear most of the invitation. People around him were gathering up papers, zipping up their Bibles, and generally rustling about in the pews, eager to be the first ones out the door so they could beat the rush to the parking lot.

A few people even got up and left before the invitation was finished.

Joe was so distracted by all of this commotion that he stopped listening. As he looked around at his restless neighbors, the small demon assigned to discourage him leaned in close and whispered, "If the members here don't think this message is important enough to listen to, why should you?"

"Why should I listen to this?" Joe suddenly asked himself. "Just like I thought -- it's all a bunch of baloney."

So he left.

He even got to be the first one out of the parking lot.

Cartoon of the Week

To Hug or Not to Hug, That is the Question

The Christmas season is fraught with peril.

Will your gift to that special someone be a hit or a flop? Will you over-indulge at the office Christmas party and make a fool of yourself in front of your superiors? Will you be crushed in a human stampede at an early morning Black Friday sale?

But of all the thorny issues this holiday season, there is one that looms over all others, both in its magnitude and potential for disaster: Do you hug? If so, who do you hug? Where do you hug? Do you initiate the hug? Do you hug the opposite gender only, or do your hugs swing both ways?

Some people are huggers by nature, others not so much. Still others will absolutely cringe at an uninvited and unwanted embrace.

Especially for men, these are dangerous times.

For example, if a man is giving Christmas greetings to a female co-worker, and she happens to be a hugger, she will feel slighted if she doesn't get a quick squeeze about the shoulders.

On the other hand, if a man initiates a friendly hug with a female acquaintance who is not a hugger, she will be quickly offended, and he may find himself labeled as a sexual harrasser. There is nothing worse than hugging a woman and feeling her back stiffen and her shoulders tense up in revulsion at your unwanted familiarity.

For the ultimate awkward moment, think of what happens when you are greeted simultaneously by two or more long-time acquaintances, one of whom is a hugger, and the other who is not. This can be quite the sticky wicket.

This happened to me not long ago. Two women I knew quite well walked up towards me at church while they were talking together. Woman A, a notorious hugger, wrapped her arms around me in a big squeeze, and I happily reciprocated. Woman B, a very nice woman whom I had also known for some time, but had never hugged, stood there quietly.

I had no idea what to do. Was she standing there waiting for her hug? Was she standing there hoping I would NOT hug her? Was she thinking that I liked Woman A better and I was slighting her by not initiating a hug? Who knows? All I can tell you is that it was quite uncomfortable. Where is Miss Manners when you need her most?

It gets even more complicated when you consider same-gender hugs. A lot of guys have an issue with this.

Personally, the older I get, the more huggy I become. I think that happens to a lot of us. Hugs are nice. Hugs are comforting. Like the song says, there's just not enough love in the world, and when you have a chance to show some affection to another human being, it should be a good thing.

But a lot of guys don't want a hug from another guy. The unwritten rule seems to be that hugs between men are restricted to long-time close friends and male relatives at family reunions. Casual hugs between men who are casual friends just don't seem to work.

Women, by contrast, have no problem with hugging any other woman on the planet. Women will jump up and down while they hug, pat each other on the leg (if they're seated), even kiss on the cheek, and no one has a problem with that.

Of course, women live in a whole other world: They even go to the bathroom together and no one bats an eye. Apparently this is a genetic thing.

Men, we need a manual for this. There should be some kind of code signal that women could give to let us know what they really want, hug-wise. But I imagine we'll get that information about the same time we can get a true definition of what a woman means when she says, "Fine."

Since the dawn of time, men have stumbled blindly about, trying to understand what women really want. Who knows?

Merry Christmas, and hug at your own risk.

Cartoon of the Week

Adventures in Grand-parenting

It is easy to forget what it was like to have children in the house.

Grand-parenting, for the most part, consists of a few hours here and there, doing short stints of child care or taking a trip to the park. Quick and painless.

It is a beautiful thing. All the gain and none of the pain. Play with kids for a while, and by the time they are getting cranky or whiney, it's time for them to go home and annoy their parents.

But sometimes grand-parenting requires an extended commitment. This can be hazardous.

We recently kept our two grandsons for a three-day stretch while our son and daughter-in-law were on a short trip.

Zeke is four years old, and he is a sweet little boy. He is very observant, very talktative, and most of the time, very loud.

His brother Malachi is 18 months old. He is cute as a button, with a raucous laugh and an endearing smile. But he is stubborn, and quick to throw a fit when he doesn't get his way. I predict he is going to take his parents on a trip through the "terrible two's" that they will never forget.

The first morning they were here, things went pretty smoothly. That is because Grandma Peggy stayed home that day and took care of getting the boys up in the morning. All I had to do was wake up and eat breakfast with them.

I ended up working late that evening, so I only got to see the boys for about an hour before bedtime. So far, so good.

But the following morning, I was in charge. Peggy had to leave at 7:00 for work, and it was my job to get the boys ready to go for the day.

Zeke woke up first. I talked to him for a while and helped him pick out his clothes for the day. Then he started getting dressed. While he dressed, I got his lunch ready for school. Then I gathered up his school items and back-pack and set them by the door. When he finished dressing, I tied his shoes.

Of course, he was hungry. He sat at the table, and I poured some hot water into his bowl of instant oatmeal while he stirred. As I reached across in front of him to grab a napkin, I apparently got too close for his liking.

He jerked his head back and said, "Grandpa, you don't smell very good."

I considered pointing out to the wee lad that if I had not spent every waking moment of the morning serving as his butler, I might have had time to shower before now. But I let it pass.

Then it was time to wake up the Hulk. Malachi was out like a light in his little crib. I don't think he had flinched since we tucked him in the night before.

I sure wish I could sleep like that.

I rubbed his bulging tummy and softly called his name. He yawned. His eyes fluttered. He stretched. He jerked his head up, looked around, rolled over onto all fours and then stood up. It took him all of 30 seconds to go from sound asleep to wide awake. Impressive.

I sure wish I could wake up like that.

He was grunting and making agitated noises as I sat him into his high chair. He kept pointing to the refrigerator and waving his arms around.

Zeke decided I needed a translator. "Grandpa, Malachi is hungry!"

"Is he like this every morning?"

"Yeah."

I stirred up the oatmeal as fast as humanly possible and began to shovel it into little Malachi's gaping mouth. He was still grunting, but the tone had changed a bit. It was something like the sounds you might hear at the zoo at feeding time.

After breakfast, the little Hulk was happy. I changed him, dressed him and started getting ready to go. I grabbed Malachi's diaper bag, and Zeke's backpack for school, and began to load the car.

As I walked from the kitchen to the garage, I told Zeke to bring Malachi with him while I loaded the car. When I walked back to the kitchen, Malachi was lying on his back and laughing as Zeke dragged him along by one arm across the kitchen floor.

"Here he is, Grandpa!"

Soon I had both boys strapped into the car and we were ready to go. Right on time! I was congratulating myself on my organizational skills until Zeke interrupted me.

"Grandpa, I have to pee."

"Didn't you go before?"

"I forgot!"

"Can't you wait until we get to school?"

The look on his face told me no.

I sat in the car with Malachi while Zeke went to pee. Malachi began to thrash around in the car seat, chafing at his restraints. He began grunting again. I was afraid he might chew through the seat belt and run off into the woods.

I went inside to find out what was taking Zeke so long. He was standing at the sink, the faucet blasting like a fire hose, watching water drip from his fingertips as he held them out at eye level.

"Zeke, we're going to be late for school!"

"I'm washing my hands, grandpa."

"Did you use soap?"

"Not yet."

I turned down the faucet and lathered Zeke's hands with soap. He had to endure my body odor again as I hovered over him to make sure he finished washing up and dried his hands.

By the time we returned to the garage, Malachi was grunting and rocking violently in the car seat in a desperate attempt to escape his confinement. He finally quieted down once I began to back out of the garage.

We arrived at school almost on time, and I dropped Zeke off. Then I made the short drive over to Mrs. Sherry's house to drop Malachi off for the day. I breathed a huge sigh of relief as I drove away, alone, in peaceful solitude.

I still needed a shower. I'm sure my blood pressure was higher than my cardiologist would have liked, and I was going to be late for work. And I had to do this all over again the next morning.

I don't know how mothers do all this on a daily basis. And I don't really want to know. I'm just part-time, and I like it that way.

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.

Cartoon of the Week

Another Historical First on the Way

I had originally written a blog here singing the praises of Herman Cain. The day after I posted it, the first stories about his problems with the ladies began to surface.

For several weeks I gave Herman the benefit of the doubt, assuming that this was all a political smear campaign. Sadly, I was mistaken.

Herman, you sure dropped the ball. I had hoped you were the real deal: A strong conservative without any ties to the political establishment, someone who could bring some common-sense thinking to Washington.

It's a shame you couldn't behave yourself.

Consensus? What Consensus?

More climate researchers are now coming forward to debunk the political hoax known as man-made climate change. READ MORE

S.O.B.s Have Feelings Too!

I may have to cry myself to sleep tonight.

It's hard not to take it personally when so many angry Democrats start saying such hateful things about us folks in the Tea Party.

In the past few weeks, I've been called an S.O.B. by Teamsters' President James Hoffa, and a terrorist and barbarian by Vice-President Joe Biden.

Democrat Congresswoman Maxine Waters wants me to go to hell, and my own Congressman, the Honorable Andre Carson (grandson and political heir of Julia) called me a racist and accused me of wanting to lynch a few black folks for entertainment.

Is this the new tone of civility that the Democrats keep talking about? Where is the love?

All of this vitriol because we dare to oppose the Obama regime? Apparently the impudence of disagreeing with liberal policies makes all of us conservatives a target for hatred and retribution.

We are accused of being hateful and bitter, but I've never said anything as mean about President Obama as what his cronies have said about me.

I've called him a Socialist. I've complained about and criticized his disastrous left-wing agenda. But I've never called him an S.O.B. or a terrorist or wished that he would go to hell.

I just want him to go home. And get a different job.