March 23, 2010

"This is a big f**king deal!"

..and if you can't believe Slow Joe, who can you believe?

March 22, 2010

Stay Mad!

Don't forget; don't give up; don't ever give up! Stay focused! Stay true! Stay mad!

March 21, 2010

Phew! Who cut one?

O.K., so it's over, right? We're all doomed to a life of socialistic servitude and things as we know it will never be the same.

Guess again!

Obama and the Democrats were so hell-bent on getting health care passed in any form, that they blessed this truckload of manure and Dumbo-Ears will trot out all of the liberal and leftists for his signing soiree. They'll dance,sing, and party 'til dawn..

..and then wake up with the biggest hangover since this idiot and his band of clods were voted in by a brain-dead electorate, hornswoggled by his hope and change mantra.

This fight is not over by a long shot; as John Paul Jones said on the burning deck of the Bon Homme Richard when asked if he was striking his colors, "I have not yet begun to fight!"

Doubt it? Check out what John Hinderaker has to say about silver linings over at Powerline Blog. This is a must read! Then get youself tooled up for the running gun battle that we are about to have between now and November..and beyond.

You still here? Scram and get busy throwing these dessicated turds out of office now. And that's an order!

Update: John Hinderaker makes a point I was going to bring up a little later down the road:
"I've never been prouder to be a Republican. The party's Congressional leaders have fought this battle to the end on behalf of the American people--with intelligence, toughness, persistence and good humor. The contrast between the parties has never been starker than in today's debate. If any intelligent Democrats were watching--there must be some left--they had to be embarrassed for their party."
So I am here to tell the RNC, RSCC, RCSCXCSC, whatever, don't send me those goddam questionnaire solicitations anymore. Just tell me how much you need and I'll do my best to send it to you. No more cutesy pie remarks, no brickbats, no salty comments. Your return envelopes are coming back to you with my hard-earned dollars. You have erned back my faith and trust and together with the tea partiers, the good common hardworking American people, and the Republicans who have demoinstrated they have a spine, we will right this wrong. We will prevail!

You guys and gals -- Paul Ryan, Boehner, Spence, Bachmann, even Lindsay Graham at times -- fought a magnificent fight, considering you were as outmatched as you were. You reminded me of Bowie, Travis, Crockett, and the rest who valiantly held off Santa Ana's army at the Alamo. Your stand may have ended in defeat for the moment, but I got a feeling that Sam Houston's army is on the way and what happens when it arrives won't be pretty.

Inevitable, My Ass..

The other day, weary of the day-to-day histrionics and tired of the constant gurgling sound of our freedoms and liberties taking a few laps around the bowl before disparaging, I "re-watched" the movie Rob Roy (Liam Neeson, 1996), a medium-to-good film filled with men wearing ladies' old 1980's big hair wigs and skirts, running around the moor, brandishing great broadswords, and yelling guttural, almost-indecipherable oaths at each other.

But the payoff of the movie is the duel scene at the end, pitting Rob Roy McGregor (Neeson) against a character called "The Fop" (Archibald Cunningham, Tim Roth). It was a struggle between an over-sized, plodding highlander and a pirouetting, mincing, prancing, effeminate -- albeit highly skilled -- swordsman. For about the first 75% of the struggle, The Fop pretty much nicks and slices Rob Roy until he is brought to his knees. At that point, Roth sticks his blade to Neeson's throat and prepares to deliver the coup de grâce. Suddenly, Neeson grabs The Fop's razor sharp blade full in hand and, while bleeding profusely from that grip, reaches for his own fallen sword and splits and, seizing it,  Roth from pillar to post.

We leave our hero as he is bandaging his hands, looking down on the ex-Fop (" down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!!"), bleeding out on the floor, with "the blue moon in his eye".

The beauty of that scene is Rob Roy's logic: that Neeson weighs up his predicament and decides to sacrifice a hand -- only a palm, if you will -- for the prospect of winning the duel. His bargain is far more than fair for him than the tragic Fop.

As the credits rolled and I re-corporated myself into the present day, it struck me that this is duel is a perfect metaphor (allegory?) for the health care debate with our our metro-sexual, jug-eared Boy King playing the role as The Fop. He has been flouncing and mincing around us these past 16 months, stinging and slicing us with his affronts to our liberties and his attempt to commandeer our current private health care system. Now he stands, sword in hand and blade to our throats, ready to administer the seemingly inevitable coup de grâce.

Or will it be?

It goes without competent argument that, through out this year-long duel, he and his ilk have become grossly insensitive to the oafish, plodding highlander -- the good, common, hardworking, tax paying, ordinary citizen -- with the broadsword in hand, remorselessly shuffling after this gadfly, absorbing the cuts and wounds inflicted. We may be on our knees now and we may suffer a deep laceration as we reach out and grab the opponent's blade, but come eight months from now, The Fop with the Dumbo ears will find himself flat on his back, split open from breast bone to hip bone, bleeding out politically as we bandage our cuts and move on.

While Pelosi, Reid, and Obama say this will quiet the mob at their doors, the irony is that, by the House voting this into law, they have not ended the health care debate, but prolonged it. With 60% of the country against this and such tone-deaf leadership from the Democrats, they have presented their opposition a burnished, ruggedly crafted, razor sharp broadsword to wield from now until November..and even beyond.

It seems that this mound of putrefied fecal matter will not only be the target of an almost relentless series of court challenges from the states' attorneys general, but also a ready made issue for this Fall. Republicans, conservatives, and the ordinary working citizens who watch their lives crumble as government begins its inexorable intrusions will have this affront still fresh in their minds on November 2nd.

My guess is that a lot more people than the jug-eared Fop will be on the floor, politically bleeding out, blue moon in their eyes, as the ordinary citizen bandages his wounds and moves on.

March 18, 2010

Absolutely Jaw-Dropping Choreography!

No wordy preambles here, let's cut straight to the chase. The POSOTUS is asked a direct "yes" or "No" question by Brett Baier in yesterday's interview and he turns it into frothy persiflage that would have Clara Peller shrieking for substance:

BAIER: You have said at least four times in the past two weeks: "the United States Congress owes the American people a final up or down vote on health care." So do you support the use of this Slaughter rule? The deem and pass rule, so that Democrats avoid a straight up or down vote on the Senate bill?

OBAMA: Here's what I think is going to happen and what should happen. You now have a proposal from me that will be in legislation, that has the toughest insurance reforms in history, makes sure that people are able to get insurance even if they've got preexisting conditions, makes sure that we are reducing costs for families and small businesses, by allowing them to buy into a pool, the same kind of pool that members of Congress have.

We know that this is going to reduce the deficit by over a trillion dollars. So you've got a good package, in terms of substance. I don't spend a lot of time worrying about what the procedural rules are in the House or the Senate.
But the real stunner in all that fluff was his admission that he did not spend a lot of time worrying about the procedural rules of the senate.


what about when you were in the Senate, Pantload? Maybe that's what's wrong with this guy. He spends too much time flapping his lips and not enough time understanding the process involved. I am all for separation of powers, but it would be nice to have a chief executive who understood the rules of the game and how the machinery operates.   

I recommend you read the transcript here (I can't bear to watch this guy blather on, no matter who is doing the interviewing) and you will see how bereft of substance he eally is. I gotta believe that our beloved Pantload-in-Chief was in a dancing mood because it was St Patty's day and he wanted to get in a jig or two.

..but, this was freakin' Riverdance.

March 16, 2010

Green Zone Stink Bomb

There is a God and he made cow turds and he made flies.

But he did NOT make The Green Zone. Universal Studios did that.

At the left there is a picture of both in case you're unclear on the concept. It also appears to be apt imagery for Matt Damon's latest stink bomb of a movie about some troop in Iraq looking for and failing to find WMDs. Of course, it's one of those tour de farce, bash-America-first, pieces of celluloid  crap that Hollywood loves to put out about how rotten and evil the government is and how they trumped up and propagandized our supposed reasons for getting involved in Iraq.

Haven't seen it; never will.

But it underscores how truly, monumentally thick Matt Damon and those that produced and directed this movie really are. Let's see, we are in the midst of a pro-American fervor brought upon by a public recoiling from a leftist/socialist government trying to usurp every aspect of our lives and a POSOTUS who flounces around the world butt-smooching every tin-pot dictator and groveling at the feet of every potentate and emperor he can find. It is a public hungry for some vestige of honor and respect for those who have so dearly paid the ultimate price, the young men and women in our military.

All we got were early morning photo-ops of the Chief Pantload greeting returning caskets at Dover AFB.

And now this two-hour piece of fecal matter.

What was Universal thinking? Must have been hard for the executives who green-lighted this one to concentrate with their heads wedged firmly up their rectums?


It is turning out to be a mega-bomb, earning only 14.5 millions in its first three days of screening. Doesn't look like it will earn the 150+ millions back that Universal invested in it.

By the way, in my opinion Matt Damon is truly stupid. I mean have you heard him in interviews? Barely literate; mumbling; liker Obama without a teleprompter only not as articulate. Good Will punting. He makes Sean "Rectal Cancer" Peen seem like a flaming scholar. And the Bourne series sucked as well; the jiggly cameras tore it for me in the second one. O.K., the guy's a renegade CIA operative with a massive chip on his shoulder, I get it.

So move along folks, there's nothing for you to see here.

March 15, 2010

I Recant

I went to SuperMex this past Sunday with my bride, the beautiful and talented Mrs Voyska PVO, and believe I will survive this illness that has afflicted me the past fortnight.

How do I know?

Well, I had their #4 combo (a chile relleno and chicken enchilada) and two Tecates. But most importantly, I could taste the food and the booze, something I have not been able to do for the last 15 days.

And it tasted real good.

Now, I don't hold out SuperMex -- a mid-level SoCal chain of Mexican food eateries -- as the acme of haute cuisine. In fact, I wouldn't know (or care) if haute cuisine came up and bit me in the ass. (cf. "Man bites Dog".) But it's good industrial-strength nourishment and blends well with Tecate -- as do most South of the Border grunts.

Anyway, the point is that I must have gotten my sea legs back and for this I am grateful. Afterward, I wandered up to Cerritos (Ed Morrissey's old stomping grounds before he opted for the arctic tundra on Minnesota) to see the kids and grandkids. My middle son's wife and their new daughter are headed back to Japan (she is a native) to spend a couple of months with Oto-san and Oka-san and let her husband concentrate on the bell lap of his linguistics masters degree. Thus, suffused with the glow from a good meal (and the suds) and surrounded by the sonorous bustle of busy rug rats, I felt humanity creeping back into my being; as I said, I am going to make it after all.

Which leads me to announce that I re-read my previous post and, in retrospect, I was having the equivalent of a bad hair day and, perhaps I should have taken a Midol or two.

O.K., so I admit that I probably dumped on Hewitt a little too hard. I was referencing the "Old Hugh", the pre-2008, middle-of-the-road right-of-center, we're-going-to-be-o.k. Hugh. The smug guy who cozied up to John Campbell when both really did not get too excited about illegal immigration. The guy seemingly did not see a threat looming on the horizon as our Supreme Pantload began his inexorable march to the White House. Hugh always seemed to err on the side of caution and did not believe it would be necessary to go to Defcon One, where conservatives are today.

Mr Excitement he was not. It was a snooze-fest glued together with commercials.

Well, that was, as I said, the "Old Hugh". In all fairness, the "New Hugh" is a fire-breather and gets really, really, really agitated at the shenanigans that this government is perpetrating on our asses. The guy who almost pegs out on his show when he points out how silly, stupid, pretentious, or just plain egotistical this  POSOTUS and his band of clowns really are. When he unloads on Pelosi, Reid and the crowd it is with animus and enthusiasm and great hunks of juicy red beef are hurled out to those who are up to here with the Bravo Sierra that passes as governance.

So, before I get too far down the page, I want to categorically recant anything unkind I may have said about Hugh. So long as the guy comes on the air and foams at the mouth about the world of fecal matter we're in, as long as he continues to host guests like Steyn, Benson, Ham, et al., he's all right with me. Now we're talking Sean Hannity and Mark Levin foaming, not Michael Savage slavering, you understand.

But as I said, lately the man's been on fire.

There's another observation I should make about his show that I did not before: his sidekick, Duane Patterson, is a guy who really works his ass off. And he knows his stuff. You doubt me? Take a listen to Ed Morrissey's webcast show on Hot Air every Friday when Duane is a regular guest. Morrissey's  one of the best wonks around (blogger of the year this year) and Duane stays with him neck and neck. I have grown fond of Patterson's contributions and gotta believe he is a major reason for Hugh's show being as enjoyable as it is.

So, I recant now that I have been given a new lease on life. Hell, I'd probably sit down with Hugh and have a couple of Tecates.

If Duane were along, I would even buy.

March 7, 2010

Enough is enough..

The old saw about coming home late to one's wife from a night out with the boys, a little tipsy, and no plausible excuse for your absence applies here: butrst through the door and, with a panic-stricken expression on your face, exclaim, "Don't pay the ransom, I escaped!"

Well, a fortnight of work responsibilities, a severe bout with the flu, and another severe bout with a USAF Auxiliary squadron commander who is possibly one of the poorest leaders I have worked for in my professional career, and just a general malaise have conspired to thwart any creativity of late.

Some time, I will go into the more sordid aspects of the squadron commander, suffice to say that the USAFA (a.k.a., Civil Air Patrol) is a volunteer endeavor and certain things can slide when one of the volunteers has been down with a 102 degree, a hacking cough, and all manner of gastric disturbances for five days.

Hell, even my boss at work -- where I do get paid for my efforts -- sent me home Friday with the admonition I was to dwell between the covers and he did not want to lay eyes on me until next Tuesday. A study in contrasts, these two men and I am one is overseeing the activities that earns me my daily crust and not the other.

O.K., so I'll let it go for now, but some time aske me about the "bring me a rock" school of management theory.

So after that great, whimpering preamble, there's nothing really to report on the National scene except that the POSOTUS is up to his usual stunts: holding that 7-hour comedy gold roast with the Republicans, only to find that his cheap dramatics are having less of an effect on swaying the American public than it did last Summer..and Fall..and Winter..

..and probably only slightly more than it will this Spring, just two weeks away.

Still wracked with some dizziness and remnants of fever, I leap from topic to topic like someone afflicted with Tourette's syndrome. But I gotta mention one thing and then I am hitting the sack with some O.J. and two APCs. 

During my illness, I downloaded a ton of the Hughniverse stuff to my iPod and listened to Hugh Hewitt's show all this past week. Now, I like Hugh, but sometimes he get's to stuffy, staid, and too much like an old guy who tries to hang with the young folks, overly hip, using terms that, I am sure make him an embarrassment to the younger crowd.

Not exactly 23-skiddoo and Oh, you kid! but you get the idea. And, to be perfectly clear, I am more aged than Hewitt. Hell, I am more aged than most everybody. And my attempt at youthful argot is an order of magnitude greater that Hewitt. And..he some times gets the bit between the teeth, gets one up in his wheel-house, and it's bye-bye, Mr Spalding! Also, while Hugh is somewhat contrived, he is no mewling, terminally self-referential Bill O'Reilly. I put that loser (O'Reilly) in my rear view about a dozen posts ago.

I just wish Hewitt would stop passing off some of his sponsors as show-segments in a broadcast hour already straining so much under commercial loads, it is about to break. Hugh's shows have more spots than 101 Dalmations.

But this week, he's cavorting around the Caribbean with some of his and has given the reins to Guy Benson and the lovely and talented Mary Katherine Ham and they did 15 hours of must-have commentary! Guy started off by dissecting every inane utterance of Pelosi's pathetic bleats about how the health car bill is so necessary and how they were fighting for the public's rights and best interests.

Anyway, I guess the point in all this blather is two-fold. One, Guy and Mary Katherine are good; they have that sharp, fresh, crispness to their delivery comes from their youthful exuberance and superior intellect. Their wit is this school-yard impudence backed by keen minds (notwithstanding Benson's matriculation from the same school that educated the questionable Rod Blagojevich) untrammeled by the plodding deliberation of additional years.

Were both of these young people major league pitching talent, it is fair to say one can imagine fast balls that hop, curve balls that drop off tables, and change-ups that confound, all delivered with effortless grace.

In all fairness, Hewitt is, if nothing, a master of assembling such talent and packaging for public consumption. He regularly corrals the incomparable Mark Steyn, Fred Barnes, and the aforementioned duo. But the mere tidbits he throws out during the commercial-laden segments of his daily show leave the audience screaming for more.

This is Hewitt's province, I suppose, because he has made his bones, taken the risks, rolled the bones and come up a winner. But still, I kind of wish he would not walk on Mr Benson, Ms Ham, and Mr Steyn. Hearing these peoples' riffs unsplattered with his incessant injections. Hugh should also throttle back on the jibes as well. from a recent blog entry:
"Many thanks to Guy Benson and Mary Katharine Ham for filling in for me this past week, and to Duane and Adam for keeping the duo from going off the rails.  My e-mails tell me that both Ham and Benson have long and distinguished careers ahead of them."
In light of my listening and re-listening to those segments on my iPod, I consider the above patronizing and unfunny. Like the Blagojevich jokes, this sort of thing gets old. And, I guess that is what differentiates Hewitt from Benson and Ham.

But then again, when I come down from my NyQuil high and shrug off the mantle of this debilitating illness, I guess I'll just revert to just a normal, grumpy old man.