"Dilemma"

NO TEARS FOR ALLAH

"By their deeds shall ye know them." Terrorist cite their religion as justification for their actions. They learn their religion from their holy book. Muslims do what their Koran has taught them.

A book that teaches that it is all right to fly airplanes into buildings, killing thousands to gain attention, is not holy. A book that teaches that it is moral to strap on explosives and blow up children and other innocents to achieve some carnal paradise is not holy. A book that approves the butchery of people for vengeance sake is not holy. A book that teaches violent death as a rite of worship is not holy. This book was written by Satan; it is Satan who is well-please by the deeds of terrorists. It is Satan Islam worships, knowingly or not.

"Kill for me," hisses the Serpent slyly, "and you will become significant. Slay all who will not worship me. Slay Christian and Jew, Hindu and Buddhist, Pagan and Atheist, slay all the Infidels. But especially slaughter Christian and Jew. Massacre them for me -- yea, even die for me as you kill -- and I will give you virgins to pester." No real god would treat girls so shabbily as to make them prizes in a contest of murderers. This stupid book is about as holy as Arafat's anus.

Speaking of anuses, thanks to the US Congress sticking its nose in where it has no Constitutional business whatsoever, my toilet doesn't flush as well as the old ones used to -- maybe not even as well as those in Gitmo -- else I would offer it as the final repository for every Koran ever printed. However, I have a new canvas for the affected so-called "artist" from India so fond of elephant poop; I have a new subject for Serrano's jar of urine. This phony "holy book" should be a chew toy for a hundred thousand Fidos, litter for a million diarrheic Fluffys.

Politikal Korrecktness be damned, we have every right to defend our civilization, which has striven and bled and enabled so much toward a humane peace. The alternative, as is demonstrated amply in Islamic pestholes all across the globe, is unthinkable. They bring their asinine war. Their singular accomplishment is violence against the unsuspecting and the (mostly) unarmed. We punish their savagery, and we do it so well that while we do it most of us just keep right on living our peaceful, decent lives in our productive, rich society. They are just nuisances really, blowflies begging for a swatter. Like the Japanese Kamikaze of WWII, they are suicidal maniacs doomed to push us and push us, purposefully taunting us until at last we turn our attention momentarily from our interesting, productive lives to kill them until they can't stand it any longer.

I am not going to be dissuaded by any devil-worshipping, goat-screwing, camel-kissing, beard-infested troglodytes in Semtex underpants and Plastique sneakers. I am an American. With a single upraised finger, I salute Islam. I give the bird to the birdbrains -- to the self-defeating, invincibly ignorant, violence-prone, cowardly clerics and to the blockheads who follow them -- and to the pitiful war they vainly wage for relevance.

gay (P)ride

My father was a Ford dealer for many years. He now whirls about in his grave like a dervish on amphetamines. His beloved company has gone to the dogs. Woof!

Ford has given up to $!,000 to GLAAD for every Jag or Land Rover sold this year. (GLAAD is a Gay organization). GLAAD is promoting homosexual marriage big time.

Volvo -- now part of Ford -- has donated $500 whenever a vehicle is purchased or leased to The Human Rights Campaign, another gay-happy org.

In 2005, Ford sponsored the so-called "family area" at Gary Pride Day in Ferndale, MI. They think "family" includes gays and lesbians.

A VP for Volvo said they were targeting people with "modern day" values. According to him, "Family" is much more the the traditional family. Yeah , right. Try selling your cars to their children.

Ford gave $5000 to sponsor the 2004 Motor City Pride Weekend, and will again this year. It will include a homosexual "marriage". They also sponsored London's Pride Parade, and was the main sponsor of the London Mardi Gras event. Pictures reveal a bunch of queers in their underwear. (Can't these people even dress decently? Nobody else gathers to undress.)

Volvo advertises in homosexual magazines.

A Ford executive says "Ford has been supporting gay, lesbian, and transgender events and charities for many years ... We believe ... in helping a global society that is more open and tolerant, and one that values diversity." Well, at least he knows the lingo.

Ford gave $200,000 to the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force and $!00,000 to the International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Campaign.

The source for this info is OneMillionDads.com.

Okay, now for the commentary. I don't understand how Ford expects to come back from the doldrums. Homosexuals make up about 1% of society (Kinsey was lying). With a 1% market share, Ford can expect to be a viable concern for about 20 minutes or so.

Okay then. They're going to do homo-weddings. I'm going to do Ford-divorce. I'm selling my stock.

Even Ol' Dad would understand after this why I drive a Honda.

Mute ... Please!

There's this annoying commercial -- actually a series of them -- that when they come on I dive for the mute button. Sometimes I miss, as I did recently. On the screen is this fetching woman with a very, very satisfied look on her face; the voice-over intones: "... side effects include nausea, headaches, rashes on the lower extremities, and diarrhea. And remember, if the effects don't wear off in three hours, see your doctor immediately."

Now there's a pretty picture: A guy with his hands pressed to his temples and red bumps on his legs, throwing up and scuttling for the toilet with his knees together, all the while appearing to be the world's first all-natural pole vaulter. Yes sir; I'm really sexy now!

Of all the drugs that Pharmaceutical Companies might have marketed, what we truly needed was something to encourage twenty million old goats with hazy memories of a mis-spent youth to engage in more slap and tickle than a Gay Pride Marquis de Sade S&M banquet. Cancer? We'll get on that next Wednesday. ALS? Nah, too difficult. Let's create a drug that causes old-timers to behave like horney weasels loose in a Ex'tasy warehouse. The sight of old men in all-too-obviously ballooned gowns hooked to wheeled IV's and oxygen chasing the nursing staff up and down the halls of rest homes is irresistible. Western Civilization didn't have enough sex until they unearthed these drugs, right?

I am trying to imagine the meeting that began this essay into aphrodasiacs.

"All right, Hudson. What have you people in geriatrics discovered?"

"Sorry, sir. We were looking into a cure for psoriasis, but all we could come up with is a drug which creates a semi-permanent erection in men who have only a vague memory of what sex is."

"Hmmm; how much does it cost to produce?"

"Very cheap, sir. Pennies, really."

"What do you call it?"

"Well, sir, we were going to call it Scab-away, only ...."

"Never mind, Hudson. Call it something either unpronounceable or unspellable -- preferrably both; put some X's and Z's in it -- and get that stuff on the market right away. It'll sell like darts at a naked balloon-dancer contest. We can use the profits to subsidize Canadians. It'll cause our stock to skyrocket. While the government nabobs are crying over real drug prices, we'll make a killing. Hurry, Hudson!"

The only good out of this is that they are apparently single-handedly keeping the Golf Channel on; I say apparently because these commercials outnumber ads for clubs, balls, and other paraphernalia three-to-one. Makes one wonder about golfers, eh?

Oh, and the stuff apparently has kept Bob Dole from running for President again, which is understandable. How would it look, after all, on the campaign trail? "Senator Dole has fallen off another stage in one more vain attempt to keep his balance."

The only thing more embarrassing than that would be having to go to the doctor after three hours. Think "waiting room".

Marxism gives me gas

Well, let's see what the PK (Politikal Korrektness) crowd have for us today. There's no better place to look than Pravda West, our very own StarTrib.

"House OKs higher gas tax". Oh, there's something that makes sense. Everybody in the country is complaining about gas prices, and the imbeciles in MN government decide to make it even more expensive. This is the largest gas tax in Minnesota history, so we all know who's behind it, right? Democrats, plus ten so-called Republicans. (Aren't these the same people who complain about windfall profits? But what about their windfall taxation?)

The story is that we have a Transportation shortfall. This is no surprise, since they spent unspeakable sums meant for roads on that stupid train to and from nowhere, thanks to Governor Bicep. (One still wonders whose brother-in-law got rich over that one). And where did the rest of the money they've been collecting all these years go?

It is theorized by one DFLer that MN citizens, who hate the gas tax increase, will change their minds when they learn that 100% of the tax increase will go to roads. Well, Senator Birdbrain, exactly where is 100% of the existing tax going now? Pet cemeteries? Homes for displaced communists? Coffee houses for dyslexic poets? Subsidies for bus and train riders? (Ooops! That was too, too close to the truth, wasn't it?) Well, we know the source of the shortfall -- theft and bad spending decisions in the past by the governmental equivalent of drunken sailors -- but it wouldn't do to point out the mismanagement of our revered, ineffably wise politicians and public employees, would it; that would be Politikally Inkorrekt. Much better to just tax the cr*p out of the people some more.

One moron named Peterson, who is part of something called Transit for Livable Communities -- apparently she lives in a cage in Como Park and has never seen a suburb -- thinks higher taxes magically transform themselves into decreased congestion. She was "ecstatic", saying that "this works for everyone". Guess she thinks "everyone" somehow doesn't include the poor schlubs who have to pay for this travesty. Guess she thinks money for her notions of "livable" grows on trees, and should be used to force those notions on the rest of us. Guess she thinks that somehow "everyone" should have to live on the train line. Guess she doesn't understand how congested that would be. Guess she hasn't thought about ceasing to subsidize the businesses and offices downtown so they are eventually forced to move out where the workers are, thus relieving congestion permanently.

Fortunately, our Governor has vowed to veto the d*mn thing to force the ninnys to put the existing gas tax where it belongs: on our roads. Let the trains and buses and bicycles and rickshaws and such pay for themselves. It is long past time we removed the subsidies for everything, and incidentally spelled out in no uncertain terms that the responsibilities of citizenship in a free country include paying for your "transit", as well as every other need, without stealing from your neighbor to do it.

Rain, with chill

It's beyond sense. The wonders of Global Warming are eluding us. This morning, on my daily trip to deliver two children to their school, it was colder than February. Okay, maybe March.

Global Warming my foot! It is the middle of May, and we were two lousy degrees above freezing this morning. That is a massively misinformed definition of the word "warm". The evidence points in the opposite direction, but the evidence in any case is insubstantial -- consisting of ludicrous exclamations from academic freeloaders out to pocket the largess that typically gets thrown at a "problem", usually after inadequate investigation by the throwers.

What is it with these Global Warmers? Are they afraid of my lifestyle? I'm insignificant. I don't even own an 8-cylinder car, and haven't since the early eighties, except for a brief flirtation with an Expedition. My house is relatively small. All my toilets have been approved by Senators and Congressmen who are so under-worked and overpaid that that is all they could find to do until they retire and collect more largess. My diet consists of ordinary foods that do not tax the ground or the water supply or the atmosphere beyond God's creation to sustain. My clothing is approved by slave-owning Communist potentates for export to the Great Western Market, where it is further approved for sale at a 5,000% mark-up. (This is so the retailer can afford to comply with the ten million regulations those Senators and Congressmen dreamt up when they weren't snooping in my water closet or creating regulations that put our own clothing industry out of business). Ditto my shoes, except the mark-up is more.

They want us to stop pollution. We did that. A report a week or so ago came out showing the atmosphere is now far cleaner than was believed. Of course the originators of the report, two freeloading academics living off government largess, theorized that Global Warming was now going to get worse because the air is clearer. So what do they want? More pollution?

They want us to stop burning fossil fuels. Fine, but if we do that, we can't get to work. (Most of us don't live "on campus" so to speak; most of us aren't free-loading academics). If we can't get to work, we can't pay taxes. If we can't pay taxes, freeloading academics aren't going to get paid -- only 17% of their money comes from tuition -- so I guess farmers and grocers will be forced to work for nothing. (I believe a fellow named Stalin tried that. So much for listening to freeloading academics). And this doesn't even begin to address Winter, when "burning fossil fuels" means "staying alive". Apparently the Global Warmers want us to either freeze or starve to death. (There's that Stalin fellow again).

World Ends Tomorrow! Women and Poor Hardest Hit!

If it's Wednesday, this must be Paradise

"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth."

Erma Bombeck was shown how to write by the above illustration. No finer example of readable and understandable prose can be found. My communications will likewise use Erma's example. I will likely fail miserably.

This is my first attempt at posting on a weblog. It might well be my last. My son-in-law -- known as geekspeaks on this site, and who has encouraged this, my foray into the ether -- is a gifted wordsmith with way too much time on his hands for a working person. Fortunately, I am not a working person -- I'm not sure I ever was -- so I have lots of time to fill up white space and bore the ****! out of those unfortunate enough to find themselves lost in this particular corner of cyberspace. Like them perhaps, I am a Stranger in a Strange Land.

I am also a Mac user, which means I don't know anything about computers that would interest 99% of the computer literate population. It also means I don't know anything about the Mac, because they don't come with a manual, and the help screens are worse than useless. So, I just put stuff in, and see what comes out. This tactic has done nothing to improve my sanity, nor has it led to increased enthusiasm for computers. It does help to fill in the time when my grandson -- known as "Boy Wonder", or sometimes "Noise, with Dirt" -- is not in attendance. He is two, and curious, and he MUST touch and fiddle with absolutely EVERYTHING.

I will write -- if I can figure out how to get back on again -- about life in the slow lane, which is where we belong when our vision starts to go bad and our backs can't handle lifting our own body weight anymore because a) we're weaker, and/or b) we're heavier. The ultimate insult known as aging will get an ungenerous thrashing on this blog; so will spineless politicians and other cheats and crooks. I will be merciless to those who take without asking; I will fall furious upon those who castigate the citizenry for various invented sins against the elitisms that threatens sane civilization. Yes, I will descend upon them, like viciousness itself, all teeth and claws; I will create vast verbal vengeance upon that scourge to civilized life known henceforth herein as "Politikal Korrektness".

This I will do, I swear, as soon as I can re-adjust my chair, which has just this moment lost its height abruptly, resulting in a condition known as sore buns. I am making a Chiropractic appointment. I am looking for Boy Wonder.