The atmosphere of fear.
Let me get this straight.
According to his pseudo-State of the Union address at the end of last month, President Obama is going to nationalize the banks, socialize medical care, and cure cancer. Then, next week…
I have a problem with alcohol abuse. Booze is the universal solvent, which is why the Volstead Act—Prohibition, for you young pups and non-students of history—didn’t work. I always used smooth bourbon as a cushion against reality. AA defines “functional drunks” versus the sad, rock-bottom cases you may pass by in a big-city gutter, as opposed to someone who can do their job despite obvious impairments.
Barack Obama used the term "crisis" 26 times in a speech the other day. He used the rhetorical device "catastrophe" an equal number of times.
I’m a blue-collar kind of guy. My jobs have always required physical involvement. During my working career, I always got the job done, with one notable exception. The only “tie-‘em-ties” I own are my father’s; I use clip-ons with my one all-purpose gray Armani double-breasted suit—good for weddings, funerals, and formal show-up-at-the-office occasions.
Ah, but I digress, as usual. All I want to do these days is get drunk and laugh. For the sake of domestic tranquility—my significant other voted for Bill Clinton, but we forgive youthful foolishness—I gave Osama Bamalama a chance. The inauguration was not a travesty. I heard brave words.
It is March. My last post addresses the flack from left field, i.e. “you want this to turn to [crap].”
Yes, I do. This is Rush Limbaugh territory, but I must reiterate my perception; how can socialism be good for America?
I am bailing out early. There is a lot of talk about “bail-outs” these days. There are billions of dollars for Osama’s spending plan. I say “bail-out”, I am speaking of Airborne Rangers jumping from flaming aircraft over Belgium on 5 June 1944, the night before D-day. There is an analogy here; go find it.
I watch the morning news, waiting for the next 9/11. It will happen. When thousands of Americans die for the historical precedent of electing the first African-American president, it will be because he allowed them to die through inaction and misguided social policies. The jihadists are temporal; there is an old Little Feat song that proclaims “Everything Happens in its Own Good Time”. That is the guiding philosophy of the Islamic ters: hide and wait. We’ll get you eventually. The passage of time is irrelevant to the triumph of the ideology. The President has already announced our surrender date in Iraq, rendering the sacrifice of so much blood and treasure meaningless.
The Dow index continues to drop, and 697,000 jobs were sacrificed in February alone. Franklin Delano Roosevelt—the most dangerous man in American history—said “we have nothing to fear but fear itself”.
Roosevelt pulled us out of the worst of economic times by allowing War II to happen. He had a ready-made enemy, and an excuse to marshal the nation’s resources against a common enemy: the Nazis in the West and the Jappers in the East. He also indulged in massive federal spending to undo the laxity of the Hoover administration. That didn’t quite work, although my impoverished father from South Carolina was grateful for his—strong back—jobs with the CCC [Civilian Conservation Corps] and the gig as a forest ranger in Yellowstone Park. Growing up in hard times ain’t easy.
Roosevelt got away with spending us out of a depression because it had never been tried before. News flash for president Obama: been there, done that. It won’t work a second time.
I think the American people are beginning to wake up and realize the bill of goods they have been sold. “Change you can count on” was a slogan for the uninformed; those who earnestly desire better happenstance for everyone but have no clue as to political reality need to think again. Thinking back to age 17, my cousin, a Green Beret major, told me in my face, “You have no idea.”
My significant other has a recession-proof job that she loves, and I will be gone of old age before the final collapse comes.
“Change” was just “business as usual” in the lexicon of re-election politics.
Besides my career as a major [screw-up], I worked in the low food chain of the movies. I never thought I would be working in a movie as a speaking participant, but I am reliving the second re-make of “The Manchurian Candidate.”
Nobody pays attention to my opinions; the flack I catch is shooting spitballs at a battleship. I think a lot of people are afraid of our new president because the average American has a gut instinct—whether or not they voted for Obama—he “ain’t the man”. Despite their voting preferences, folks who live in the real-life, real-time of today are scared of what they thought would be a cat’s-ass leader. The people who build your house and pump your septic tanks are scared of Osama Bamalama.
I have only one advantage over the average American: I am old, I smoke, drink, and am devil-may-care about health issues. Under “socialized medicine” according to the Obama regime, I will have to wait far back in line if I claim state-funded treatment for lung cancer or a liver transplant. “You caused this by smoking despite our warnings! Get in line!” There are plenty of people out there in line; mine are personal choices. When the government revolves around individual health care, I will be punished. I smoke cigarettes and drink whiskey. This is not acceptable to New Age, nanny-state thinking.
I thank God that my age will catch up before some bureaucrat has to make a choice: me or them. I will be punished for what they consider “bad” personal decisions; when my choices to smoke, drink, and be happy-go-lucky about health care collides with a social-engineering project about who deserves health care; I’m going to the back of the line. The fact that personal decisions were a part of my life will never enter the factor; I am condemned because I don’t buy the party line, nanny state philosophy. I have found peace in my life as of my last birthday; I came to terms with the notion that I'm nearer the end than the beginning.
For you passing students of history, check out the decline and fall of the Roman Empire. They were the most powerful nation on earth. America has entered this final phase: we elect totally incompetent leaders to open the gates to the barbarians.
It didn’t take me a lot of time to fall out with Obama. His agenda as “The Manchurian Candidate” sent my red flags skyrocketing almost immediately. There was an immediate cave-in to the Left on spending. All the pork-barrel earmarks remain in place. My best friend, a liberal named James, has a constant—and very astute—point that the government never seems to get around to paying off the national debt. He blamed this on GWB. So does president Obama. My pal can get away with this indefinitely. My significant other says she lived in Hell for the eight years of the GWB administration.
You cannot blame George Bush forever. I think the pundits say you have a honeymoon year. My timetable doesn’t run that long. I am at the cynical point of “Oh yeah, he’s lying. His lips are moving.”
The February jobs index says we lost 697,000 jobs, or 651,000, or whatever. Anyone who lost their job in February is not comforted by statistics; misery does not love company in this case. Asked about federal spending as a solution, the vast majority of Americans say “no!” They are scared. They don’t know why. The majority of them voted for The Messiah as president, and they are unable to understand why this man is letting them down. Get a clue, and ignore me when I trumpet “I told you so!”
I see an instinctive fear out there. The American people will not accept socialism.
You voted for him, wake up to “The Manchurian Candidate”.
When this country goes to Hell, I will be, in the words of my daddy, “drunk as a lord” and laughing all the way. I had a scenario for nuclear holocaust during the Soviet threat; if the bombs detonated, I’d rush the local liquor store, hijack a case of the best, and eventually gas myself with carbon monoxide through a tailpipe hose in the window. The alternative is a Federal Express through the head. (“Federal Express” is a term for a large bullet that will tear your head off, based upon a commercial ammunition peddler who sells munitions under the label of the same name. They are reliable and well-balanced out of the box.)
The local tax commisar should be satisfied. He got his check from the royal bite out of my shiny ass, and the new National Commisar of Taxes doesn't pay his. I live in the updated version of the Soviet Union. We wait for the supply truck like East Germany. Someone will be along to take care of my crippled ass, when they get the time on their hourly worksheets. Meanwhile, we sit by the side of the road and stare longingly into the distance. Welcome to nanny-state America.
According to his pseudo-State of the Union address at the end of last month, President Obama is going to nationalize the banks, socialize medical care, and cure cancer. Then, next week…
I have a problem with alcohol abuse. Booze is the universal solvent, which is why the Volstead Act—Prohibition, for you young pups and non-students of history—didn’t work. I always used smooth bourbon as a cushion against reality. AA defines “functional drunks” versus the sad, rock-bottom cases you may pass by in a big-city gutter, as opposed to someone who can do their job despite obvious impairments.
Barack Obama used the term "crisis" 26 times in a speech the other day. He used the rhetorical device "catastrophe" an equal number of times.
I’m a blue-collar kind of guy. My jobs have always required physical involvement. During my working career, I always got the job done, with one notable exception. The only “tie-‘em-ties” I own are my father’s; I use clip-ons with my one all-purpose gray Armani double-breasted suit—good for weddings, funerals, and formal show-up-at-the-office occasions.
Ah, but I digress, as usual. All I want to do these days is get drunk and laugh. For the sake of domestic tranquility—my significant other voted for Bill Clinton, but we forgive youthful foolishness—I gave Osama Bamalama a chance. The inauguration was not a travesty. I heard brave words.
It is March. My last post addresses the flack from left field, i.e. “you want this to turn to [crap].”
Yes, I do. This is Rush Limbaugh territory, but I must reiterate my perception; how can socialism be good for America?
I am bailing out early. There is a lot of talk about “bail-outs” these days. There are billions of dollars for Osama’s spending plan. I say “bail-out”, I am speaking of Airborne Rangers jumping from flaming aircraft over Belgium on 5 June 1944, the night before D-day. There is an analogy here; go find it.
I watch the morning news, waiting for the next 9/11. It will happen. When thousands of Americans die for the historical precedent of electing the first African-American president, it will be because he allowed them to die through inaction and misguided social policies. The jihadists are temporal; there is an old Little Feat song that proclaims “Everything Happens in its Own Good Time”. That is the guiding philosophy of the Islamic ters: hide and wait. We’ll get you eventually. The passage of time is irrelevant to the triumph of the ideology. The President has already announced our surrender date in Iraq, rendering the sacrifice of so much blood and treasure meaningless.
The Dow index continues to drop, and 697,000 jobs were sacrificed in February alone. Franklin Delano Roosevelt—the most dangerous man in American history—said “we have nothing to fear but fear itself”.
Roosevelt pulled us out of the worst of economic times by allowing War II to happen. He had a ready-made enemy, and an excuse to marshal the nation’s resources against a common enemy: the Nazis in the West and the Jappers in the East. He also indulged in massive federal spending to undo the laxity of the Hoover administration. That didn’t quite work, although my impoverished father from South Carolina was grateful for his—strong back—jobs with the CCC [Civilian Conservation Corps] and the gig as a forest ranger in Yellowstone Park. Growing up in hard times ain’t easy.
Roosevelt got away with spending us out of a depression because it had never been tried before. News flash for president Obama: been there, done that. It won’t work a second time.
I think the American people are beginning to wake up and realize the bill of goods they have been sold. “Change you can count on” was a slogan for the uninformed; those who earnestly desire better happenstance for everyone but have no clue as to political reality need to think again. Thinking back to age 17, my cousin, a Green Beret major, told me in my face, “You have no idea.”
My significant other has a recession-proof job that she loves, and I will be gone of old age before the final collapse comes.
“Change” was just “business as usual” in the lexicon of re-election politics.
Besides my career as a major [screw-up], I worked in the low food chain of the movies. I never thought I would be working in a movie as a speaking participant, but I am reliving the second re-make of “The Manchurian Candidate.”
Nobody pays attention to my opinions; the flack I catch is shooting spitballs at a battleship. I think a lot of people are afraid of our new president because the average American has a gut instinct—whether or not they voted for Obama—he “ain’t the man”. Despite their voting preferences, folks who live in the real-life, real-time of today are scared of what they thought would be a cat’s-ass leader. The people who build your house and pump your septic tanks are scared of Osama Bamalama.
I have only one advantage over the average American: I am old, I smoke, drink, and am devil-may-care about health issues. Under “socialized medicine” according to the Obama regime, I will have to wait far back in line if I claim state-funded treatment for lung cancer or a liver transplant. “You caused this by smoking despite our warnings! Get in line!” There are plenty of people out there in line; mine are personal choices. When the government revolves around individual health care, I will be punished. I smoke cigarettes and drink whiskey. This is not acceptable to New Age, nanny-state thinking.
I thank God that my age will catch up before some bureaucrat has to make a choice: me or them. I will be punished for what they consider “bad” personal decisions; when my choices to smoke, drink, and be happy-go-lucky about health care collides with a social-engineering project about who deserves health care; I’m going to the back of the line. The fact that personal decisions were a part of my life will never enter the factor; I am condemned because I don’t buy the party line, nanny state philosophy. I have found peace in my life as of my last birthday; I came to terms with the notion that I'm nearer the end than the beginning.
For you passing students of history, check out the decline and fall of the Roman Empire. They were the most powerful nation on earth. America has entered this final phase: we elect totally incompetent leaders to open the gates to the barbarians.
It didn’t take me a lot of time to fall out with Obama. His agenda as “The Manchurian Candidate” sent my red flags skyrocketing almost immediately. There was an immediate cave-in to the Left on spending. All the pork-barrel earmarks remain in place. My best friend, a liberal named James, has a constant—and very astute—point that the government never seems to get around to paying off the national debt. He blamed this on GWB. So does president Obama. My pal can get away with this indefinitely. My significant other says she lived in Hell for the eight years of the GWB administration.
You cannot blame George Bush forever. I think the pundits say you have a honeymoon year. My timetable doesn’t run that long. I am at the cynical point of “Oh yeah, he’s lying. His lips are moving.”
The February jobs index says we lost 697,000 jobs, or 651,000, or whatever. Anyone who lost their job in February is not comforted by statistics; misery does not love company in this case. Asked about federal spending as a solution, the vast majority of Americans say “no!” They are scared. They don’t know why. The majority of them voted for The Messiah as president, and they are unable to understand why this man is letting them down. Get a clue, and ignore me when I trumpet “I told you so!”
I see an instinctive fear out there. The American people will not accept socialism.
You voted for him, wake up to “The Manchurian Candidate”.
When this country goes to Hell, I will be, in the words of my daddy, “drunk as a lord” and laughing all the way. I had a scenario for nuclear holocaust during the Soviet threat; if the bombs detonated, I’d rush the local liquor store, hijack a case of the best, and eventually gas myself with carbon monoxide through a tailpipe hose in the window. The alternative is a Federal Express through the head. (“Federal Express” is a term for a large bullet that will tear your head off, based upon a commercial ammunition peddler who sells munitions under the label of the same name. They are reliable and well-balanced out of the box.)
The local tax commisar should be satisfied. He got his check from the royal bite out of my shiny ass, and the new National Commisar of Taxes doesn't pay his. I live in the updated version of the Soviet Union. We wait for the supply truck like East Germany. Someone will be along to take care of my crippled ass, when they get the time on their hourly worksheets. Meanwhile, we sit by the side of the road and stare longingly into the distance. Welcome to nanny-state America.
posted by Robert at 10:41 PM
6 Comments:
"I think the American people are beginning to wake up and realize the bill of goods they have been sold."
I have no doubt that's true of some...but will there be enough to get rid of this shyster next go 'round? I mean, even certain Democrats are starting to balk at some of his proposals...
I too, find myself at the age of seeing more history than future. At my age, along with my health problems realize life won't go on forever. Who knows Obama's reign may outlive mine.
That leaves me with the opportunity to say what needs to be said. It seems like some old women have been getting away with some crazy dialogues lately, be it they are leftists.
Though the truth must be said, I am not old--just stretching middle age to the breaking point.
I had this discussion with a right-thinking co-worker today. I said the One will lose thirty points in his favorable poll numbers in the next six months. He's not so sure.
I hope I'm right...
Americans won't accept socialism - don't bet on it. As long as he is taking action, any action, doesn't matter if it's any good, they don't care, he makes them feel good.
You can tell your "significant other" that I lived through "8 years of hell" during the Bush administration too. It was the hell of having to listen to those "gull-durn" liberals in the media and on Capitol Hill talk trash about a "good man" who was just tryin' to do his job in the best way he knew how.
BTW, sorry for no e-mails lately. For some reason, every time I tried to send an e-mail to you I got it bounced back. Also, if I tried to send an e-mail to the Scrapplers, it wouldn't go through if your e-mail address was on the list.
(Personally, I think it's those black helicopters over my house. Maybe they know something I don't.)
Best regards...
I'm the "significant other" and I say leave me the hell out of this. Responding to the comment about "living through eight years of hell with a good man doing his job the best way he knew how"....
y-o-u said it yourself - "he didn't know how" but it's more like, he just "didn't".
Negative thinking breeds more negative thinking.
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