NOW abandons all pretense...

... of advocacy for actual, you know... women.

Gov. Palin may be the second woman vice-presidential candidate on a major party ticket, but she is not the right woman. Sadly, she is a woman who opposes women's rights, just like John McCain.

The fact that Palin is a mother of five who has a 4-month-old baby, a woman who is juggling work and family responsibilities, will speak to many women. But will Palin speak FOR women? Based on her record and her stated positions, the answer is clearly No.

In a gubernatorial debate, Palin stated emphatically that her opposition to abortion was so great, so total, that even if her teenage daughter was impregnated by a rapist, she would "choose life" -- meaning apparently that she would not permit her daughter to have an abortion....

What McCain does not understand is that women supported Hillary Clinton not just because she was a woman, but because she was a champion on their issues. They will surely not find Sarah Palin to be an advocate for women.

Translation: Sarah Palin believes that fetuseses are people. Therefore, she's not really a woman. More like a man. With hooters.

Many women, of whom Sarah Palin is one, believe that (a) an unborn baby ("fetus," if you insist) is a human being, and (b) that human is therefore entitled to the same protection under the law as anyone else. I have yet to hear an explanation of why this is "anti-woman" that holds water for ten seconds.

(N.B.: The canard that it's really about a "woman's right to do what she wants with her own body" does not hold water. If that were universal, rape would be a constitutional right. It's my body, and I'll violate someone else with it if I want to. Right? I thought not.)

Crispy had a good point to make about he left's infatuation with the sacrament of abortion (edited for capitalization):

I'm going to say this one time, and then I'm going to shut up. Re: Bristol Palin. The American liberal is, - seriously, literally - pro-abortion and anti-choice, believes essentially in mandatory abortion. What does the average liberal mom do when her 16-year-old daughter shows up pregnant? Drags her immediately to the abortion clinic, whatever the daughter's (or the babydad's, of course) misgivings. The American left thinks that Bristol Palin having her baby is, actually, morally wrong. And more to the point, it shows something terrible about her mom, who had a moral obligation to make her daughter have an abortion. And one reason for this is that if you have a baby when you're 16, you will likely slip out of our class. You'll go live with Joey, the kid who wants to be a mechanic. You'll take classes at the community college instead of heading off to a decent school. You'll end up in a housecoat with a houseful of wailing babies, listening to Faith Hill. What haunts the imagination of the American liberal: my family, in the next generation, will be white trash. Maybe it would be more interesting to look at these sorts of motivations than to try to figure out "when human life begins."

I suspect it's time for NOW to change their acronym to "NOAFA": National Organization Against Feto-Americans. That way, they can deny all affiliation with that woman vaginally-unchallenged thing running for the vice-presidency.

Who's the hypocrite?

I've been hesitant to weigh in on the bottom-feeding that's taken place about Sarah Palin and her pregnancy... or Bristol's... or - wait! Both of them! Better writers than myself have already said more than I ever can.

But there's one aspect of it all that burns my butt with the fire of a thousand habanero chalupas: Where on earth do the lefty losers at places like Daily Kos get the assumption that Sarah Palin would automatically be ashamed of Bristol's condition? It's a logic I can't follow: "Those Republicans don't believe in killing children, so they must not love them as much as we do." (The Uterofascists are being even viler. And even American Spectator had something fatheaded to say.) Obama had enough class to ask his followers to back off Bristol, but somehow I doubt it'll work.

There's a delicious irony, though, in the way it points up the contrast between Gov. Palin and Sen. Obama.

Palin: Stands behind her daughter and welcomes the grandchild.
Obama: Would hate for his daughters to be punished with a baby.

Palin: Gave birth to a Down Syndrome boy, and is raising him happily in a loving family.
Obama: Fought for Down Syndrome babies to be left on a shelf to die alone.

Palin: Human beings are good things, worthy of love for their own sake.
Obama: Human beings are disposable, inconvenient and a punishment.

But us conservatives... we're the haters. Right?

Yeah, yeah. I know. Put my money where my mouth is, right? Fine.
This is my oldest daughter, hereinafter referred to by her childhood nickname, Wharf Rat, to preserve some hint of privacy. She is twenty years old, beautiful (as you can see), smart, and charming. She is also eight months-plus pregnant, literally ready to give birth any day. She is not married. Rather, she lives with a boyfriend who I think is basically all right, despite the shiny things stuck through his nose and a few other superficialities. They have expressed vague plans to get married, though I'm not holding my breath.

By Kossack logic I should be mortally ashamed and keep this hidden as best I can. Wharf Rat has sinned, and conservatives cannot abide sin. I should pretend I don't know her, spit when she walks past, and burn any residual photos of her in my house. Just like Dick Cheney was expected to do about his gay daughter, I should do about my knocked-up one.

If I fail to behave this way, it only proves that I'm a hypocrite. Being conservative, I naturally despise anyone who falls short of my pharisaical moral code. I'm willing to make an exception for my own. But other people's get no mercy.

So why am I owning up to WF? Because I'm not the least bit ashamed of her. See, I had her out of wedlock, and married her mother two months later. From the time she was four until ten years later, I raised her mostly alone. We had some rough times in her teen years, but I never, never was anything but proud of her. I still am. I'm worried for her, because she's got a tough road ahead of her. Sin? Yes. I did a long time ago, and she has since. That's what a confessional is for. But to think a child whose birth results from my sin or hers is somehow less wonderful requires a Calvinistic puritanism only someone who doesn't believe in sin could express with a straight face.

Far from wanting to keep the impending grandson hidden, I'm eager to make his acquaintance. If he turns out to have a disability or something, so it goes. Because he's a human being, and human beings are basically a good thing. His mother certainly is.

That's Sarah Palin's attitude, too. It's one Barack Obama cannot conceive of, apparently. I know which attitude I'm happier to have.

One quick note

Has anyone else noticed that while our new VP candidate has lived in Alaska since infancy, she was actually born in Sandpoint? (How long do you think it'll be before the media get hold of that fact and make racist innuendos? That's where Mark Fuhrman moved to after the glove fiasco, too.)

I know, Alaska is the northwest too, but Idaho is rather closer to home. In any event, this may be the closest a northwesterner has ever gotten to the highest office in the country. Go Sarah!

Placeholder post

There's a real one coming as soon as I get a respite from parenting. Meanwhile, here's a cool article from last spring about our new priest, who did Pete's baptism a couple of weeks ago. Christina's mom and sister came up from California for the occasion, and my parents came too, which was cool. My mom tries to be nonchalant about these functions, but I knew very well that a Catholic church is outside her comfort zone. She always looks nervous. My sister couldn't come, but my little niece did, and got to hold the book for Fr. Brooks.

Anyway, I didn't quite know what to make of the new father, but this article explains a lot about his personality. Great guy!

Crass, but true

No time for a real post today, as I have to take 12-year-old Long Drink back to his mother by way of her mother, which means three hours each way to meet in the middle. Instead, here's a cartoon I liberated from Tim Bayly:



Lest we should forget what the Obamessiah really means by "Hope."

Saturday Matinee: Freaks

I know it's been a long time, and honest, an actual post will follow this weekend. Today, however, we're off to the Grant County Fair. There we will ride rides (the kids will, anyway), consume vast quantities of horribly unhealthy food, and look at animals that we would otherwise have to drive two or three miles into the country to see. After, of course, the obligatory stop at the Spaceburger booth. And I do mean obligatory; the kids aren't allowed to set one little toe in line for a ride until they've had a Spaceburger and lemonade. Alas, the otherwise very intelligent and personable young lady who partially replaced me at the newspaper is of a different opinion regarding them. What she doesn't get is that it's not just the taste of the things; it's the tradition. Spaceburgers were first made for the Seattle World's Fair in 1964 (which my parents attended), and Lord knows how, the Moses Lake Lioness Club acquired the machine to make them and they've been using them for a fair fundraiser since before I was born. As a proud Moses Lakian, it's just not right for me to flout the tradition like that.

If you're a city person, you won't understand, but during Fair Week (yes, it's capitalized), the entire county more or less goes into slow motion. At the paper, you'd be hard-pressed to find anybody in the office except to answer the phones. Same goes for most of the other businesses in town. Even my box plant was on short hours this week, although I think that's a coincidence.

So, since it's Fair Week and since this just showed up in the Archive (hallelujah!), I'm putting this film up in lieu of a more informative post. (As I said, I'll catch up this weekend.) If you've never seen this movie, you've at least heard of it. This is a film that defies genre altogether. Is it a horror film? Is it a melodrama? Expoitation? What exactly can you call it? The only thing it can be safely called is the quintessential cult film, some 43 years before the Rocky Horror Picture Show made cult films sorta mainstream. Since its creation (spawning?) in 1932, among the names associated with it have been Anton LaVey and the king of grungy celluloid, Dwain Esper. There seems to be some question about who if anybody owns the rights to it (one rumor holds that LaVey bought it and put it into the Public Domain himself), but as long as Archive has it up, I'll share it gladly.

The director, Tod Browning, was an interesting case. He'd been a sideshow barker himself, having literally run away with the circus as a boy before moving into film. This was made when he was fresh off his cinematic triumph, Dracula, and he was looking for a way to top that. Well, top it he did, and then some. So much so, in fact, that studio executives were nauseated at the screening and censors across America cut out so much of it that at one point, only about half an hour remained.

To be honest, however, I think anybody who was upset by Freaks was taking an extremely shallow view of it. The characters in it were not creatures of horror or anything like that. They were real people, people who had been born weird in body, but were not that different from anyone else. To be exhibited for their bodily eccentricities was their profession, the only one they could have had, and they took it seriously. There was no makeup wizardry or trick photography here: the "freaks" were all the real McCoy. Look them up on IMDb or elsewhere: these characters had histories and futures. Some of them lived to ripe old ages; others came to sad ends. Tod Browning knew them well; these were his people.

That may be the most important aspect of this film: not the shallow "ick" factor but the loyalty and goodness the "freaks" showed their own when one of them was mistreated by an outsider. God grant everyone should have such a circle of friends to guard his back. "Gobble Gobble, we accept you! You're one of us!"

If you haven't seen this before, do it now. I guarantee you won't come away unmoved.

I have found my candidate

Maybe we could move the White House to R'leyeh.

Why I'm voting Democrat.

Yep, you read that right. You've seen the viral video that's going around called "I'm Voting Republican?" (If you haven't, there's an embed and a transcript here.) Well, I watched it a while back, and you know, I could see their point. It made me reassess my own priorities, and after careful reflection, I've decided to vote Democrat this year. Here's why:

I'm voting Democrat because I can afford to shop at little local boutiques and whole-foods stores. Can't everyone?

I'm voting Democrat because I don't really want a cure for AIDS or breast cancer. Research just turns up inconvenient findings.

I'm voting Democrat because I think new drugs should be made available immediately whether they've been tested properly or not. Certain ones, anyway.

I'm voting Democrat because I want my little girl to know all about sex before she learns to read. That way, even if she grows up illiterate, she'll always have at least one marketable skill.

I'm voting Democrat because disabled people are kind of icky. Who wants them cluttering up the place?

I'm voting Democrat because women can't be trusted with too much information. They need to shut up and quit asking questions. After all, it's their choice.

I'm voting Democrat because other people's religions are really stupid, and nobody should be allowed in certain professions if they believe differently from me. Not even on their own property. Not ever.

I'm voting Democrat because global depression and food riots are a small price to pay for keeping that oil in the ground. If just one polar bear lives a few years longer, it's all worth it.

I'm voting Democrat because my skin color defines who I am and what I can do. Only a race traitor would try to change his own circumstances.

I'm voting Democrat because tolerance isn't good enough. You must approve of all sexual practices. Or else.

I'm voting Democrat because corporations are evil. Especially the one that signs my paycheck.

Because there are too many brown people in the world.

Because people in other countries don't deserve safety.

Because babies are a punishment.

Because working for money shouldn't mean it's yours.

Most of all, I'm voting Democrat because...

If I don't, my vote won't be counted anyway.

Sunday Matinee: His Girl Friday

In which Joel celebrates his departure from the news business.

This is almost certainly the funniest movie in the Internet Archive. How on earth it fell into the public domain is beyond me. Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell play off each other like a string of firecrackers, with dialogue that crackles with wit. The little digs at media and politics are gloriously snide. ("They... they ain't human!" "I know, they're newspapermen.") And watch for inside jokes hidden in the script. ("He looks just like that actor fellow... Ralph Bellamy!") You'll go a long way to find anything funnier than this film, before or since. If you don't watch any of the others I've posted, you'll still want to see this one.



"And that, my friends, is my farewell to the newspaper game."*

Maybe miracle, maybe not.

Sometimes the Lord is funny. You can pray and pray for a miracle, and just when you've pretty much resigned yourself to a "no," He does something completely unexpected.

The really fun bit of news is that my dad's blood work was all within normal range, which is pretty friggin' unusual for a guy who has leukemia.

Internet people, there is no amount of spin I can put on this that will improve your opinion of me. I know it looks like I lied to you three weeks ago when I said he would die any minute. I swear, I didn't. We have no idea what his bone marrow looks like. He could still have leukemia. But if he does, it's not hanging out in his blood, which is where it likes to hang out when it is busy killing people.

I don't know much about leukemia, but I do know that there are a lot of people praying for Nina's dad, including people who aren't in the habit of praying. I don't want to start shouting about a miracle just yet, but it looks like it can't be ruled out, either.

On a mostly unrelated note, I meant to link Nina's post a while back about Jesus, scotch and marshmallows. I envy Nina her humility sometimes. If it were me, I'd be pretending to be all penitent rather than admit how hard it is sometimes to get back onto speaking terms with Jesus. Nina is a lot more honest.

Brendon one, Pompous Neo-Know-Nothing zero

I love it when uninformed blowhards pontificate about their chosen field of ignorance. The Inquisition is one of the few things that can unite Chick-tract-thumping mouthbreathers and atheists educated beyond their intelligence. Brendon channels Aquinas in a polite but corrective response to this ignorama.

Pre-Father's Day reading

I don't know if I'll actually post anything on Father's Day, but we can get the Dad-ism going with this on why Homer Simpson is EveryDad.

Take me out to the ball game

For the last couple of years, Moses Lake has had a kind of a Z-league semi-collegiate baseball team, and we'll be going to see them tomorrow night. (It's Herald night, and paper employees and families get in free.) Nobody's ever going to mistake the Moses Lake Pirates for the Mariners, but in a town this size, it's good to have our own team to root for. We're the smallest town in the league, but our boys kick butt with the best of them. (Up to taking the championship last year!)

Where I grew up in Goldendale, little league and high-school football games were the biggest entertainment in town during the season. I actually played little league for a couple of years. I don't know if other guys my age remember these, but the league usually had a "loser team" with really patient coaches so that the kids who hadn't a hope of being any good on the field could still play. (Sort of a Bad News Bears without Tatum O'Neal and with less skill.) Not surprisingly, I was on that loser team every year. (Bernie Leingang and Pastor Sid Cox, if you ever Google your names and run across this, thank you for coaching us. You guys had patience that would make Job look like a crankhead.)

Go Pirates!


Update: Whupped up on the Olympia Athletics 5-1, which leaves us 6-0 for the pre-season. Like I told a co-worker at the game: Our votes may not count for anything in Olympia, but we can sure kick their hiney on the ball field!

Memories...

I was cleaning my stuff out of a drawer at work today that I haven't used in a long time, and I came across this picture from nine or ten years ago. We must have been at a party at someone's house, as we're wearing name tags and I don't recognize the furniture. The little girl in the sweater and glasses is Ceidwen, my wharf rat oldest daughter. For perspective's sake, she's now twenty and about to render me an ancestor. (And knockout beautiful rather than cute.) But there was a time when she was (a) little, (b) adorable and (c) unembarrassed to be in her dad's company.

I can't wait to see how this comes out

Lesbosians sue lesbians for besmirching their identity.

Three residents of the Greek island of Lesbos submitted a request to court against the Greek Association of the Communities of Homosexuals and Lesbians (OLKE), national media reported today.

The islanders demanded that the use of the words ‘lesbian’ and ‘lesbians’ be banned in the name of the association and by media, the Greek Naftemporiki newspaper reported. The submitters of the request claimed that the words’ adoption and use by the gay communities insults their place of origin and themselves. Many of the island’s women, they said, are ashamed to say where they come from.

This could open the way for lawsuits from Holland, as well. Stay tuned.

Baptist conversions taking a dip

I couldn't resist.

Damn global warming!

At this rate, we'll greenhouse ourselves straight into another ice age.

A legal perspective

KG has a good dissection of the California gay marriage ruling here. I don't think it's going to be the end of civilization, but I do dread the climate of mandatory approval that I think is going to follow.

'The gas prices we deserve'

George Will:

America says to foreign producers: We prefer not to pump our oil, so please pump more of yours, thereby lowering its value, for our benefit. Let it not be said that America has no energy policy.

Remembering D-Day

More than any other day, June 6 is the time to recite the St. Crispin's Day speech from Henry V:

This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

No matter how many times I read that, I can't get to the end without a throat-lump.

Centuries later, I wonder if Patton had that passage in his head when he addressed his men before D-Day:

There is one great thing that you men will all be able to say after this war is over and you are home once again. You may be thankful that twenty years from now when you are sitting by the fireplace with your grandson on your knee and he asks you what you did in the great World War II, you WON'T have to cough, shift him to the other knee and say, 'Well, your Granddaddy shoveled shit in Louisiana.' No, Sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say, 'Son, your Granddaddy rode with the Great Third Army and a Son-of-a-Goddamned-Bitch named Georgie Patton!'"

Read the whole thing here. Warning: Patton should have been named the Poet Laureate of Profanity, but it's all the more stirring for being phrased in a soldier's terms.

He was completely wrong in one thing, however: when he said "Only two percent of you right here today would die in a major battle." Fully half the men who landed that first day didn't make it to the second. My God. Half.

We owe our freedom to all soldiers, but more than any others, to those who landed at Normandy. For those who still remember the most decisive battle in modern times, and those who never came back, thank you, sirs. Just... thank you.

Heavy religious question

When Mormon kids play in a field, do they get Gentile oats in their socks?

Discuss.

Thank you, gentlemen

Rest now.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

*

Insert Tim Taylor grunt here

Via Ken comes yet another list of things a man ought to be able to do. I modified his a bit, striking out the ones I can't do and bolding the ones I can.

Let's make this a meme. Male readers, consider yourselves tagged.

A man should be able to:

1. Give advice that matters in one sentence. Constantly. I'm a lot better at giving it than at living it out.
2. Tell if someone is lying. Fairly well. My oldest daughter still doesn't know how I could always tell when she was lying. Maybe when her own kids are teenagers I'll tell her how I did it.
3. Take a photo. Eleven years in the newspaper business have forced me to learn, but I'm still not good at it.
4. Score a baseball game. Never done it. It looks straightforward, but there's probably aspects I wouldn't be familiar with.
5. Name a book that matters. The Confessions of Saint Augustine.
6. Know at least one musical group as well as is possible. The Grateful Dead. Go ahead. Ask me anything.
7. Cook meat somewhere other than the grill. Are you kidding? My dad used to say that a man who can cook is never going to be lonely. My Lovely and Brilliant Wife would agree, between ladylike belches.
8. Not monopolize the conversation. Depends on whether I've taken my medication that day.
9. Write a letter. I can still do that, even in the Internet age. I wouldn't know where we keep envelopes and stamps, though.
10. Buy a suit. I never, and I mean never, shop for my own clothes. It would be a recipe for stupid-looking. And on the rare occasions I wear a suit, it hangs on me like I borrowed it from my father.
11. Swim three different strokes. I used to could, but now all I can do is kind of dog-paddle.
12. Show respect without being a suck-up.> Actually, I'm pretty good at this. Spending lots of my childhood around old people helped.
13. Throw a punch. If absolutely necessary. I haven't done it since the night before my college graduation, though.
14. Chop down a tree. I'm from Goldendale. Of course I can chop down a tree.
15. Calculate square footage. I'm with Ken. Are there really guys who can't do this?
16. Tie a bow tie. No clue. I can just barely cope with a regular tie.
17. Make one drink, in large batches, very well. I used to brew an excellent brown ale. As for cocktails, I do fuzzy navels in a gallon tea jug that I don't think I could replicate in a glass.
18. Speak a foreign language. Spanish and Welsh, plus varying facility in German, French, Latin, Cornish, Italian and Portuguese. I was a serious language nerd in my youth.
19. Approach a woman out of his league. I've done that. Don't tell Christina, though; she hasn't twigged to how far out of my league she is, and I'd just as soon she didn't.
20. Sew a button. As long as neatness doesn't count.
21. Argue with a European without getting xenophobic or insulting soccer. Yep. The trick is to avoid dogmatic statements.
22. Give a woman an orgasm so that he doesn't have to ask after it. Next question...
23. Be loyal. Absolutely.
24. Know his poison, without standing there, pondering like a dope. I assume it refers to beverages. My tastes are straightforward. Beer doesn't usually take too much dithering. In a pinch, bourbon on the rocks is easy to remember.
25. Drive an eightpenny nail into a treated two-by-four without thinking about it. I can hammer a nail, but not instinctively.
26. Cast a fishing rod without shrieking or sighing or otherwise admitting defeat. Yep.
27. Play gin with an old guy. I have no idea how to play gin.
28. Play go fish with a kid. Now there's a gam I can handle.
29. Understand quantum physics well enough that he can accept that a quarter might, at some point, pass straight through the table when dropped. No, but now I'm going to do some reading until I can discuss it without looking too stupid.
30. Feign interest. Uh, I mean, "No, honey! I can't! Really!"
31. Make a bed. Again, as long as I don't have to be very neat. Christina usually just sniffs and does it herself.
32. Describe a glass of wine in one sentence without using the terms nutty, fruity, oaky, finish, or kick. I can say "Yum" or "Yuck." I'm married to a northern Californian, so I know better than to fake wine knowledge.
33. Hit a jump shot in pool. Not without tearing the felt.
34. Dress a wound. If I had to, I could. I haven't had to do it with anything serious, though.
35. Jump-start a car, change a flat tire, change the oil. Yep. I'm no mechanic, but anyone who can't do those things shouldn't be driving. Especially not in the kind of cars I can afford.
36. Make three different bets at a craps table. Nope. I haven't the foggiest.
37. Shuffle a deck of cards. Yes, Ken, there are adults who can't. Or at least not with any sort of grace.
38. Tell a joke. It's stopping that's difficult.
39. Know when to split his cards in blackjack. Are you beginning to get the idea that I don't gamble much?
40. Speak to an eight-year-old so he will hear. By now, I think I've got the hang of this one.
41. Speak to a waiter so he will hear. Yep.
42. Talk to a dog so it will hear. Not really.
43. Install: a disposal, an electronic thermostat, or a lighting fixture without asking for help. I've done the last, and I think I could handle the other two given time and no kids yelling, but I'm going to call it a "no" just because I'm not that confident.
44. Ask for help. This one I can do.
45. Break another man's grip on his wrist. A cop friend of mine taught me once years ago, but I don't know if I still could.
46. Tell a woman's dress size. Not that I'd be so stupid even if I could.
47. Recite one poem from memory. Ozymanias the King, off the top of my head. I believe there are more.
48. Remove a stain. With eight kids? Damn skippy.
49. Say no. See #48.
50. Fry an egg sunny-side up. Yep, although nobody in the house likes them that way.
51. Build a campfire. Yep.
52. Step into a job no one wants to do. Story of my life.
53. Sometimes, kick some ass. Not really, either literally or figuratively. I tend to take what comes down the pike.
54. Break up a fight. Oh, I suppose if I had to, but I've never tried.
55. Point to the north at any time. Generally.
56. Create a play-list in which ten seemingly random songs provide a secret message to one person. Do what, now? I guess so.
57. Explain what a light-year is. Yes.
58. Avoid boredom. Who wants to avoid it? I'd kill for some.
59. Write a thank-you note. I'm not going to claim credit, because I'm the worst person for remembering to write them that I've ever known.
60. Be brand loyal to at least one product. Yes
61. Cook bacon. First thing I learned to cook.
62. Hold a baby. Again, see #48.
63. Deliver a eulogy. Not for anybody I cared enough about to eulogize. I couldn't keep from tearing up.
64. Know that Christopher Columbus was a son of a bitch. Trick question. By the standards of his time, he wasn't.
65-67. Throw a baseball over-hand with some snap. Nope.
66. Throw a football with a tight spiral. Nope.
67. Shoot a 12-foot jump shot reliably. Nope. Can you tell who hated gym class?
68. Find his way out of the woods if lost. I haven't been in the woods for a long time, but I'm pretty sure I still could.
69. Tie a knot. This probably means the fancy ones they teach you inn Boy Scouts. I didn't stay in it long enough to learn anything useful.
70. Shake hands. Yep. I can also roll over, play dead, and usually not make messes on the carpet.
71. Iron a shirt. I didn't think I could until I had to. It wasn't as hard as I thought.
72. Stock an emergency bag for the car. Yes
73. Caress a woman's neck. See #48.
74. Know some birds. Some. I'm no expert, but I can usually pick out the obvious ones.
75. Negotiate a better price. Nope. I feel impolite trying.

Saaah-lute!

He'll never see this, I'm sure, but my grandfather is 89 years old today. Within a year of his birth, the two stupidest amendments to the Constitution were enacted: the Eighteenth and Nineteenth. I don't hold either of those against him, however. Meanwhile, he's seen a Depression, a World War, 68 years of marriage, four kids, ten grandchildren, and God knows how many great-grandchildren. If he holds out the way he is, he'll live to see at least one great-great-grandchild in September. (I'm not sure if my cousin Lori's daughter has kids yet, so I don't know if this will be the first or not.) I wrote about him here at rather greater length. I'll be calling him tonight, but I doubt he'll remember me.

Happy birthday, Grandpa!

A time to mourn, even when it's more fun to celebrate

Looks like Ted Kennedy has a brain tumor. I'm sure there will be others on the right side of the political aisle who will gloat. I won't.

Yes, I loathe just about everything he stood/stands for politically. Yes, I'm angered by his insistence on flouting his Church's teachings while reaping the political advantages of being a member. And in particular I'm revolted by his fanatical support for the slaughter of innocents. But my dad, my mother-out-law and my uncle all died of brain tumors. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

More importantly, to be a Christian requires a constant awareness that - literally - there but for the grace of God go I. I've never left my date to drown in a river, nor have I ever sold out my principles for political advantage. Then again, I've never had the opportunity to do either one. I have done enough of my own sinning that I know how easy it is to fall into, even without the temptations that come with being wealthy and powerful. Jesus died for him and me both, because we're miserable offenders. Only the circumstances of the offenses differ. I can't be pleased at seeing another suffer what I deserve to, even if he deserves it, too.

May God make Sen. Kennedy's remaining time and his death as merciful as possible. May He grant him repentance and forgiveness as he needs it, and may He welcome Ted Kennedy into His kingdom shriven and holy.

That's family values for ya!

It's never too early to get a head start on emphysema!

The boy's 26-year-old mother and 39-year-old aunt were eating at the restaurant last week when they held a cigarette up to the boy's mouth and attempted to light it.

The aunt told police that the boy often says, "smoke, smoke," and sometimes takes cigarettes out of a pack and puts them in his mouth.

The child had been saying "smoke, smoke" while the aunt was smoking in the restaurant, and she held her cigarette up to the child's face. When she took it away, he continued to ask for a cigarette and grabbed one from a pack on the table.

When the child put the cigarette in his mouth, the aunt held up her lighter to light it, but the boy did not inhale the cigarette so it failed to light. During this time, the boy's mother was paying for the food and when she returned to the table, he still had a cigarette in his mouth, and the two women began laughing.

That given, is the next part any surprise?

The aunt said the mother keeps a rolled up dollar bill in the bedroom, which the child plays with.

Any time the boy has the dollar bill he hold it up to his nose and says, "fix, fix" over and over again.

What in the name of every deity ever postulated is the matter with these people?

Evolving sidebar

I happened to be looking through blogs in Moses Lake and found some gems.

Under "Prods," we have John Roberts' 5:30 Coffee, written by a pastor here in Moses Lake that I didn't know was blogging. I know John slightly, both from having had my kids at the local Christian school and from working on the newspaper's short-lived Christian magazine. He's always impressed me as having his head and his heart placed squarely in the Lord's service. I'll be checking back with him often; he seems to have good insights.

Under "Other," I'm adding Jonda. I don't usually go in for photoblogs, but this lady has some serious talent. In the interest of full disclosure, she also earns her living two desks away from me at The Greatest Newspaper in the Northwest™. That seems to be keeping her too busy to post very often, alas.

Also, I'm regretfully going to remove Sagebrusher from the sidebar. Hindu hasn't posted since last June, his URL is up for sale, and he said in a comment a while back that he's not going to go back to blogging. I hope he'll still keep in touch, though, especially since I've lost his e-mail address.

Thank you for not jamming scissors into my skull, Mommy!

Every time I think the limits of chutzpah have been reached, Murder Inc. manages to top it. This time, it's soliciting donations for Mother's Day. Yes, really.

The e-mail reads:

"Dear Friend, Join us! Make a Mother's Day gift. My daughter, Hannah, recently wrote this for a national magazine:

'I was raised by strong women. My mom, Cecile Richards, fights daily for women's reproductive rights and social justice as president of Planned Parenthood. It's a legacy she got from her mom (my late grandma), Ann Richards, the former governor of Texas. I've learned that the most rewarding battles in life are those waged for something you truly believe in.' ...

"... As Mother's Day approaches, I am grateful for the opportunity to make a difference and hope you'll join me. Happy Mother's Day."

Happy Mother's Day ... from the one you didn't dismember! With love from your worthless little clump of cells.

I'm so glad I didn't see this last weekend. H/T to Protein Wisdom.

Good boy!

Abortion whore gets a Scooby-snack from his masters.

Of course, he's been a satisfactory servant to the abortion industry all along, with stomach-turning fidelity:

This brings us to the next category of human being Obama says has no intrinsic right to life: Babies born “accidentally” while a doctor attempts to kill them by abortion.

This is a necessary consequence of Obama’s embrace of abortion throughout all nine months of pregnancy. Most of us know parents who have cared for preemies — premature babies, born too soon. With the abortion industry’s wide-scale attempts to kill American premies and nearly due children, some will be born alive accidentally.

Whistleblower Jill Stanek, a Chicago nurse, described the practice of killing babies in what is now known as “live-birth abortion.” Illinois tried to stop the practice. But in 2002, as state legislator there, Obama voted against the Induced Infant Liability Act, which would have protected babies who were “accidentally” born alive during attempts to abort them.

“I could not bear the thought of this suffering child dying alone in a soiled utility room, so I cradled and rocked him for the 45 minutes that he lived,” Stanek told the U.S. Congress, describing one such case. “He was too weak to move very much, expending any energy he had trying to breathe. Toward the end he was so quiet that I couldn’t tell if he was still alive unless I held him up to the light to see if his heart was still beating through his chest wall.”

After Stanek’s testimony even N.Y. Democrat Jerrold Nadler, who says he is “as pro-choice as anybody on earth” supported and spoke in favor of the bill.

But for the abortion industry and Obama, opposing the right to life has meant uncompromising dedication to a counter-principle. For Obama, protecting the unstated principle “unwanted children do not have the right to life” is the only way abortion can remain legal.

I don't care how charismatic and charming the man is, Barack Obama isn't fit to be elected dogcatcher.

56 Questions meme

I've tried to stay clear of memes for a while, since no matter how many you answer, there are always more being sent your way. But since both Ken and Ricki succumbed to the temptation, I guess I might as well, too.

1.ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?I had a tumor removed from my right hand when I was a toddler. Even today, the only way I can remember right from left is that the right hand is the one with the line on it.

2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM? A couple of posters that the kids gave me, a charcoal portrait of Jerry Garcia and a monster bookshelf. Other than that, the walls are pretty bare.

3. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN? 12:29 p.m. Every year I try to call my mom at that time and apologize.

4. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW? To get out of debt.

5. WHAT DO YOU MISS? My grandmother, my dad, and Redhook Double Black Stout.

6. WHAT IS YOUR MOST PRIZED POSSESSION? Gosh, I don't know. I have a wooden fire truck my grandparents sent me from Italy when I was about three, and a copy of The Kingdom of the Winding Road that belonged to my grandmother when she was a little girl. I also have a rosary that Christina made for me while we still only knew each other online. Those are pretty prized.

7. HOW TALL ARE YOU? Six foot three.

8. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DAY? Of what? I'm usually too stressed to be genuinely afraid.

9. WHAT’S YOUR WORST FEAR? Losing a child. I can't even imagine what that would be like.

10. WHAT KIND OF HAIR COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX? The exact shade of brown that graces my Lovely and Brilliant Wife's head.

11. WHAT ABOUT EYE COLOR? See above.

12. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINK? Coffee. The older I get, the less I consume, but that's a decrease from a habitual seven-shot latte.

13. FAVORITE PIZZA TOPPING? Shrimp. Do you know how few places will put shrimp on a pizza anymore? I remember when it was common.

14. IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE? Steak and kidney pie at the Horse Brass pub in Portland.

15. FAVORITE COLOR OF ALL TIME? Green, I guess. Which makes it a little incongruous that I live in the desert.

16. HAVE YOU EVER EATEN A GOLDFISH? Nope. But then, I'm not trying to find the location of a safe-deposit box full of diamonds.

17. WHAT WAS THE FIRST MEANINGFUL GIFT YOU EVER RECEIVED? I can't recall the first, but my dad gave me a watch for my high-school graduation that my grandfather, his father-in-law, had given him. It had been bought new for Grandpa in 1939. I still wear it.

18. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH? I've had a long-standing infatuation with Lauren Bacall. My wife is very understanding about that.

19. FAVORITE CLOTHING BRAND? I can't really afford to buy particular brands over others most of the time, but I do wear an Akubra hat, and when I'm forced to wear a tie, I wear a Garcia.

20. WHAT KIND OF CAR DO YOU WANT? An early 1960s Corvair, preferably a drop-top.

21. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING? Been there, done that, bought the abandonment issues.

22. HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF THE USA? To Vancouver, B.C., several times, and to Wales for a week many years ago.

23. YOUR WEAKNESSES? I'm very distractible. That tends to... hey! Is that a Tootsie Roll over there?

24. MET ANYONE FAMOUS? Not really. I met Peter Kreeft last year, but he's only well-known in certain circles.

25. FIRST JOB? Hauling firewood when I was about 11 or 12.

26. EVER DONE A PRANK CALL? Not since I was old enough to sound like an adult on the phone. There was a family named Vader in my hometown, which made them the perfect target. They must have gotten really sick of smart-ass kids asking to speak to Darth.

27. DO YOU THINK EVERYONE OUT THERE HAS A SOUL MATE? Heck if I know. I'm just happy with what I've got. And I got a lot of misery from looking for a soul mate in my younger days.

28. WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED THIS OUT? Talking with my boss about upcoming Internet work.

29. HAVE YOU EVER HAD SURGERY? Yes.

30. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST? Writing, I guess. Every time I have a column in the paper, people stop me in the store to tell me they liked it. can you tell it's a small town?

31. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY? I'd kind of like one off those USB turntables, so I can put my vinyl collection on CD. But those are a little spendy for our budget.

32. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT? Every time I make a suggestion as to a limit, God laughs at me and hands me another.

33. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? One Joel Abshier, whom I barely remember. My parents still have some furniture he made.

34. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST TURN OFF WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX? Women who object to traditional manners, like opening doors or standing when they enter the room.

35. WHAT IS ONE THING YOU MISS ABOUT GRADE SCHOOL? Being able to go anywhere in town without my mom worrying about something happening to me. Moses Lake isn't a very dangerous place, but it was a lot safer in Goldendale in the 70s.

36. WHAT KIND OF SHAMPOO DO YOU USE? I'm too nearsighted to read the bottle in the shower, so I use whatever looks like shampoo.

37. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? Define "handwriting." I'm not sure what I do on paper qualifies.

38. ANY BAD HABITS? Silly question. I have Tourette's; my life is filled with minor bad habits.

39. ARE YOU A JEALOUS PERSON? I wouldn't say so. Why? Who told you I was!

40. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Probably. I'd get on my nerves eventually, though.

41. DO YOU AGREE WITH FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS? Hell, I don't even believe in girl/boyfriends with benefits. If there's anything I've learned from years of being a lousy Christian, it's that nookie without a ring always leads to misery in the long run.

42. HOW DO YOU RELEASE ANGER? Release? Who has time to release it? Someday it'll reach right up through my chest and strangle me.

43. WHAT’S YOUR MAIN GOAL IN LIFE? To raise good kids, make my wife deliriously happy, and eventually go to Heaven. Everything else is kind of peripheral.

44. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD? It's a bit of a stretch, but my favorite thing was a fort my uncle built in the backyard for me and my sister. It was a two-story jobby, with a playhouse below for her and a crow's-nest/castle keep/darn near anything in the top for me. Bestest toy I ever had; I wish our yard had room for one like it.

45. HOW MANY NUMBERS ARE IN YOUR CELL PHONE? Three. It's a company phone for the moonlight job, and it has some other employees' numbers in it. I don't use cell phones by choice.

46. WERE YOU A FAN OF BARNEY AS A LITTLE KID? No, but some of my kids were. I hated having to watch him when my oldest was little, but then, he wasn't aimed at me anyway. I think he was great for the kids.

47. MASHED POTATOES OR MACARONI AND CHEESE?I guess I'm a smashed potatoes kind of guy.

48. DO YOU HAVE ALL YOUR FINGERS AND TOES? 
Yep.

49. DO YOU HAVE A COMPUTER IN YOUR ROOM? Christina and I each have one. And all the kids have their own in the family room, too, all networked. Any family with Number One Son in it is jolly well going to be wired.

50. PLANS FOR TONIGHT? Cook dinner and get the urchins off to bed. I was up at 2:30 this morning for the side job, and I could stand a little unconsciousness.

51. WHAT’S THE FASTEST YOU’VE EVER GONE IN A CAR? 120, in my buddy Dean's 70-sommething Nova when I was in high school. We were on the Biggs-Rufus Highway (you can see the area here), and we pegged the speedometer. There were three of us in the front seat (no seatbelts, natch) with me in the middle, and while we were flying down the road, the guy on the passenger side opened the door, stuck his foot out, and scraped the sole of his tenny-runner on the asphalt to see how hot it would get. And we were all sober, even. The stupidity of teenagers knows no bounds.

52. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO? 
 co-worker bitching about yet another employee of hers that quit. What she doesn't mention is that she put the poor girl in a position where she had no choice. I'd say three quarters of the turnover in this office is due to one person.

53. LAST THING YOU DRANK? Stale coffee from the office pot.

54. REPUBLICAN OR DEMOCRAT? Republican with strong libertarian leanings. In general, I figure the government probably isn't wiser than the individual, and if it is, it still has no business getting uppity with me. However, I'm also emphatically pro-life, which isn't usually a libertarian position. That issue, and free exercise of religion, are my strongest voting points.

55. DO YOU HAVE A LOW SELF ESTEEM OR A HIGH SELF ESTEEM? I dislike that terminology. Better to have a fairly accurate self-image than to worry about low or high. Besides, I'm really not good enough to deserve self-esteem anyway.

56. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING? I'd like to say I'm re-reading The Imitation of Christ, but I'm not getting far enough fast enough to be able to say that. When I get time to read, it's usually something I've read a dozen times already, just because I can put my brain in neutral. George MacDonald Fraser and Harry Turtledove are old standbys. I'll make it through Imitation eventually, though. I loved it the first time I read it, years ago.

Friday Flicks: Hitler – Dead or Alive

There was a little pre-discussion about bad movies over on the Friday [Fornicate]-Off Thread at It Comes in Pints? (language alert, obviously), so I thought I'd toss in a demonstration of true celluloid badness.

Yes, I know it was wartime. Yes, I know propaganda movies were an important part of the war effort. All I can say is that in order for guys like Ward Bond and Warren Hymer to be willing to appear in this stinkeroo, they must have really, really loved their country.

The plot is silly enough on the surface. An American businessman offers a million-dollar reward for the abduction of Hitler (hence the title). His offer is accepted by a group of low-key gangsters, who join the Canadian air force, hijack a plane, and parachute into Germany behind the lines. It gets progressively more ludicrous from there. I hesitate to give away any more plot, because you actually have to see it to believe it. It's not boring, at least. Nor, mercifully, is it overly long at an hour and ten minutes. But if you can get out of it without cramping up your cringe muscles, you've got a higher threshold than I do.

This is not a movie with camp value, like Plan 9 from Outer Space. It's unintentionally funny, like Plan 9, but it's so straight-faced that it's hard to make enough fun of. If it were a person, it would need to be institutionalized for its own good.



As always, if you watch even some of this, leave a comment. If I'm to watch this bilge, I hate to do it alone.

A note of additional weirdness: Apparently this turkey was inspired by an actual reward offer. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are turned into schlocky B-flicks.

My son, the stereotype

It seems all those assumptions about video game fanatics have a certain basis in truth.

This is what makes me proud of my country

Well, one of the things.

The governing military junta in Myanmar has agreed to allow a single U.S. cargo aircraft to bring in relief supplies for victims of a devastating cyclone, Bush administration officials said Friday.

White House spokesman Gordon Johndroe said the United States welcomed the go-ahead to land a U.S. militaryC-130 in the country on Monday. He said he hopes this is the beginning of continued aid flowing into the country from the United States and other nations and international relief agencies.

Earlier Friday, Ky Luu, director of the U.S. office of foreign disaster assistance, had said that skilled aid workers were being forced to sit on the sidelines as victims of last week's cyclone die. His comments reflect the mounting frustration among the United States and other countries as they wait for permission from the military-led government to begin trying to help.


Said Johndroe: "We will continue to work with the government of Burma to allow other assistance. We hope that this is the beginning of a long line of assistance from the United States to Burma."

"We are very concerned about the people of Burma," he added.

Johndroe also said that while the U.S. still has limited leeway to help, "One flight is much better than no flights.

This is a country whose government hates us, and what are we doing? We're jolly well begging them to let us come and save their lives. We've got nothing to gain from this. There's no profit potential, no political capital to be won. We're simply humbling ourselves and asking to be allowed to give away some of what God's blessed us with. Why?

Because we're Americans, and this is what Americans do. Remember that the next time some loud-mouthed pissant starts ranting about all the evil we unleash in the world, or shouts "God damn America" from a pulpit. When people are hungry, or homeless, or in danger, Americans are the first ones to step up to the plate. We are, by and large, some of the most generous people on the planet. Even to countries that treat us like dung. Notice that when the story first broke and President Bush called for sending aid, he didn't use the press conference to badmouth the Myanmar junta. (And if ever a government had some badmouthing coming, this is it.) Say what you will about his policies, the president understands what it is to be American. How many of his detractors would have left politics out of the equation?

I'll salute the flag and sing the national anthem. I'll cheer when soldiers go by on parade. I support our military endeavors, whether or not I think a particular operation is a good idea. But the time I'm proudest of my country is when we're handing out food and saving lives.

God bless America. And then may He help us bless the rest of the world.

Steeplechase!*

A guest blogger at Internet Monk seems to have solved the denominational problem, albeit at the cost of a lot of gas and more stress than the Sabbath should warrant:

First, I will attend the early service at my local evangelical megachurch, New Life Excitement Amazing Church Franchise #165. About half an hour into worship (maybe 1/4 of a worship chorus), I will inevitably convert to Catholicism. I will hurry over to mass at Our Lady of Dubious Likenesses in Quesadillas, but find myself so irritated by the idea of the actual mass that I will indignantly march over to Biblical Family Principles Baptist Family Family Church. With any luck, they will be well into the sermon. Since this is an election year, I’ll only have to listen for a few minutes before the blatant politicization and unbearable law sends me over to St. Oprah’s Episcopal. I’ll enjoy the sonorous liturgy right up until the sermon, which will help me finally understand that there is no God and all religion is evil. I’ll head out to my car, where I’ll do devotions with Richard Dawkins. It usually takes around 17 or 18 pages before, out of spite, I go to a mosque, or more likely Extremely Greek Orthodox church, which is just down the road. I know I won’t be able to take communion, of course, but I’ll be able to get the priest’s blessing and tell everyone about my coming home story. The self-congratulation will be enough to propel me happily back to NLEAC #165 where I’ll be able to catch maybe the last 15 minutes of the closing song, having made peace with evangelicalism until next Sunday.

The only flaw I can see is that I’ll never get to take communion, but if my wife and I order rolls and a glass of merlot at lunch, we can decide that’s what Jesus really had in mind and be emerging for a few minutes. Problem solved!

*With apologies to Steve Taylor.

I'm a little proud of myself

I'm not as out of practice as I thought. I only had to look up one word to get this. (In honesty, though, it was a pretty crucial one.) The Wittenburg Door's Latin Joke of the Day:

Cum Bob expiscit is reciperet fortunam ubi suum patrum aegrum interiit, decrevit invenire mulierem quam fructa sit copiam cum eo.

Ita, uno vespere iit ad tabernam caelibum ubi conspexit pulchrissimam feminam quam visus esset umquam. Nativa pulchritudo feminae exanimavit eum.

"Videor quasi sum modo vulgaris vir," Bob dixit ubi ambulavit ad eam, "sed in septum diebus modo, meus pater interibit, et hereditatem sestertiorum viciens accipiam."

Inculcata, femina ivit ad domum cum eo illo vespere, et, post triduum, noverca eius facta erat.

Feminae sunt tantae intelligentiores quam vires.

How and why I learned Latin to begin with is a story for another time. I had no idea then I'd ever be Catholic.

Daughters Two and Three are studying Latin in their homeschooling. Let's see if they can get this one.

The question of personhood

This gets a little grody, but it's 200-proof distilled truth.

Personhood is an excuse. If one wishes to work one's will upon the weak and helpless, one first removes their humanity in thought. Call the Jews sons of Pigs. Call the Negroes sub-human. Call the worthless old folk bread gobblers or vegetables. Called the unborn any name by what they are: human offspring. Babies.

Tell me honestly. If I said I had a mare who was carrying a foal in her womb, do you think anyone (anyone not deliberately arguing about abortion) could correct my language, and tell me my mare cannot be carrying a foal, because an embryo is not a member of the species 'horse'?

Does anyone talk that way? Does anyone say a horse is not a horse just because it is still in the womb?

Let us take this hypothetical one step further. Suppose I were an faithful Hindu, forbidden by my laws to eat beef. Could I eat the veal from an unborn calf on the grounds that he was not a cow, not a member of the species, cattle? Suppose I were an observant Jew, forbidden by my laws to eat pork. Could I eat the bacon from an unborn piglet on the grounds that he was not a swine, not a member of the species, pig?

Would anyone be persuaded by the beef-eating Hindu or the pork-eating Jew if their diet consisted only of animals taken half a second before birth from their mother's wombs?

Let us take the hypothetical one step further. Suppose I live in a country where unborn homo sapiens are not considered human. Suppose my laws forbid the eating of human flesh, on the ground that it is cannibalism. I go to an abortionist, find a baby who is only halfway out of the womb, coming out feet first. The abortionist drives a pair of scissors into the babies fragile skull, and suctions out this brains. I take the rest of the flesh home and cook it up for a meat sandwich. Michael Valentine Smith and Hannibal Lector come by and eat with me. A little tiny perfectly formed baby hand sticks out of one side of my sandwich as I wolf it down.

Is my action legally not an act of cannibalism, on the grounds that what I ate was not a human?

If anyone can think of a pro-abortion answer that holds water, I'd be interested in hearing it. I can't come up with one.

Akubra tip to Paragraph Farmer.

All you need is bodily fluids and an insane desire for attention

As usual, Iowahawk has the best take on the Yale abortion-art hooraw.

Lord, hear our prayer

Or for Protestant readers, can I get an "amen?"

Dear Jesus,

Please do not create any more stupid people. We are full up, here.

Love,

Nina

No contest whatsoever

In an immediate compromise of the post below, I have to pass this on. You've probably seen it already, but I can't stop chortling over it.

A comment from Denmark on the upcoming U.S. Presidential elections

'We in Denmark cannot figure out why you are even bothering to hold an election.

On one side, you have a b*tch who is a lawyer, married to a lawyer, and a lawyer who is married to a b*tch who is a lawyer.

On the other side, you have a true war hero married to a woman with a large chest who owns a beer distributorship.

Is there a contest here?'

I'll go along with it

Back in the 90s, when conservatives were finding conspiracy theories in every corner of the Clinton White House, and finding no charge so ludicrous that they wouldn't level it against him, I went unheard in saying that it would come back to bite us in the butt when a Republican was elected. I turned out to be right, as the frequent outbreaks of Bush Derangement Syndrome demonstrate. So I'm pleased to see this relayed by A Boy Named Sous:

The Conservative Non-Derangement Pact
If Obama is elected:
1. We won’t convert the conservative blogosphere into a shrill, psychotic echo chamber consisting primarily of profanity-laced invective.
2. If anyone kills themselves in the White House, we will assume it isn’t murder until proven otherwise.
3. We won’t be so strident in our hatred of Obama that we push moderates into his corner.
4. We won’t start up another raft of conspiracy theories involving the Illuminati.
5. We WILL fight our political battles red of tooth and claw, but smile while doing it.

I'll sign. One side has to be gentlemen, and it should be the side that can say the word without spitting.

Today she's on the plane.

Of the entire cast of the greatest movie ever made, there is now only one cast member still alive. Joy Page, who played the sweet young thing Annina Brandel, now travels in elephants.

Annina was the sweet young bride who is prepared to sacrifice her wifely virtue to the slimy Renneau for exit visas for her and her husband. Rick, we all know, intervenes and lets him win a bundle at roulette, so the girl can leave Casablanca without her husband ever knowing what she was ready to do for him. It's one of the best scenes in the film, a counterpoint to the cynicism and drama that surrounds Rick himself. It also shows that the idea of women in the 40s as decorative but passive is hooey. Annina is (as she puts it) older than her husband, even though she's presumably got fewer years. (In fact, the actor who played Jan was seven years older; he died in 1982.) It also gives Rick a chance to show that he's not as hard-bitten as he comes across. It's kind of a build-up to the drunk-and-weeeping scene, where we see his pain poured out into a glass. Women, it says, can indeed be good people; it's only Rick's bad luck that he was so badly burned. (Show em a divorced or otherwise dumped man who doesn't immediately identify with that scene, and I'll show you onne who was never really in love.)

Joy Page makes you want to smile sweetly the first time she comes on camera, looking up at the plane to Lisbon and saying, "Maybe tomorrow we'll be on that plane." There's an innocence about her that shines like an aura. In this crazy world, people like her are the ones that do matter a hill of beans. They're the reason a war should be fought.

So the last surviving cast member (that IMDb can verify) is the aptly-if-ungrammatically-named Madeleine LeBeau, who plays Yvonne the French trollop. If Annina was a wistful smile, Yvonne was a lecherous and slightly indulgent grin. Watching her at the bar with the Boche, and then with tears on her face singing La Marseillaise at the top of her lungs, shows the sort of balancing act people had to do in wartime.

Joy Page, interestingly enough, was one of only three American-born actors in the cast. Many of the others were actual refugees from either the war or Nazi-controlled countries. She was cast to begin with because she was Jack Warner's stepdaughter, but she was the perfect choice.

Good idea, bad application

This guy's promise to speak to any group sounds like an excellent one ... in theory. Alas, his mileage varied:

U.S. Congressional candidate Tony Zirkle is facing criticism from one of his primary opponents, and a host of people on the Internet, for speaking at an event over the weekend that celebrated Adolf Hitler's birthday...

The Crown Point Republican spoke in front of about 56 "white activists" at an event honoring the birth of Hitler. The German leader was responsible for the genocide of millions of Jews and others during World War II.

Zirkle said the group asked him to speak to discuss the effect of pornography and prostitution on young, white women and girls.

Zirkle is running against Republican Luke Puckett of Goshen and Joseph Roush of Plymouth in the May primary. He lost twice before in primaries to former U.S. Rep. Chris Chocola and has made doing away with pornography and prostitution his top campaign plank.

"I told (Channel 16, WNDU in South Bend) in the beginning that I'd speak to any group that wanted me to speak," Zirkle said Monday. He said he's also recently spoken on the subject to a pair of black journalists.

"I'm keeping my promise. I'll speak to any group. (The National Socialist Workers Party) was interested in the targeting of white people for prostitution."

He says he'll address the Black Panthers or the Jewish Zionists the same way, although something tells me they won't be inviting him to anytime soon. It's a good concept - treating all groups equally whether you agree with them or not. A good concept that just guaranteed that a retarded possum could beat him in the primary.

And they say Republicans aren't inclusive.

A tip of the Akubra to Kathy Shaidle.

Unspeakable bastards

There is no scaffold high enough to string up these vermin.

A company that offered rescue services to homeowners struggling with their mortgages will refund about $75,000 to 200 Washington consumers under a settlement announced Monday by the state Attorney General's Office.

Homeowners paid between $1,200 and $1,500 to Foreclosure Assistance LLC, of Clearwater, Fla., hoping the company could help save their homes from foreclosure. The state alleged that the company pocketed homeowners' money but did little or nothing to help them save their homes.

More than 70 percent of homeowners who signed up for the services ended up losing their homes, anyway, the state said.

"We believe Foreclosure Assistance Solutions used coercive tactics to pressure consumers into paying for a service they really couldn't afford and then doing little or nothing to actually help those consumers save their homes," Attorney General Rob McKenna said in a statement.

Having recently squeaked out of a foreclosure, I can easily picture the desperation with which these predators' victims seized on the bait, only to be cheated out of the very thing they were trying so frantically to hold on to. I'm ashamed to have the same number of chromosomes as anyone who would do a thing like that.

There are no words vile enough for such scum. May their mothers be lured into crack prostitution. May their children repudiate them and change their names. May their accountants and lawyers fleece them and leave them destitute. May their internal organs fail, one by one. And at the end, when they are hauled screaming into the eternal furnace that no doubt awaits them, may they do so in the dark, alone and unmourned. If anyone can think of heavier curses, I'd like to see those applied as well.

(Incidentally, did the Clearwater address ring any bells? Yup. Turns out they're Scientologists. Unsurprisingly, the layers of sleaze just keep piling up.)

The most patronizing thing I've read in a long time

File under "Just enough of me, way too much of you:"

Shorter Buzz Thomas: Religions that cling to outmoded "tenets" and won't get on board with the current trends should damn well be made to change their doctrines. Screw the immortal soul; this is important!

All the depth of a puddle in July.

How ironic

Weren't we warned we'd need this eventually if we kept doing that? I'm surprised nobody thought of this sooner.

Bye bye, Seattle!

Write if you get work! And don't let the door hit you in your sorry, drizzly, latte-stained ass!

Frustrated by the state and federal gridlock on solving Seattle's transportation problems, Mayor Greg Nickels suggested secession at a Thursday luncheon.

"Our region should declare its independence," Nickels said.

The Puget Sound regional economy makes up 67 percent of the state's economic activity, he said. "If we were a country, [our economy] would be just a little smaller than Thailand. We would be larger than Colombia, Venezuela. We are held back because our state and federal government still believe our economies are driven by wheat farms and timber logging."

Somewhere between Colombia and Thailand, huh? Seattle ought to feel right at home sandwiched in between countries that make their money from drug dealers and child prostitution. In case Nickels hasn't looked lately, wheat is a lot more essential than, say, more copies of Windows. Those laser discs don't digest very well. And who is it that sucked all the prosperity out of the logging counties? Hint: it wasn't the people who actually lived there. It was Seattle pseudo-intellectuals who never met a logger they didn't yearn to see unemployed.

I envision a state shaped like the one above, made up of those counties in Washington that grow food instead of luxuries, have air you can actually see through, and believe that generating electricity is a good thing. The Coasties are even welcome to keep the name Washington if they want; we'll pick another one. Then they can vote themselves in all the Kleptocratic administrations they want without having to cheat, and we'll have an actual franchise. We'll raise taters and wheat, and I hope the Coasties find their airplanes tasty.

Free the Brownside!

Rest in peace, Uncle Larry

I don't know how far you can judge a man by his obituary, but my uncle got a pretty impressive one in the local paper today. He died yesterday morning in his sleep, after a very short bout with a brain tumor. (CCFOAD, by the way, for those readers who also hang out at the Pint Place.) If you didn't know, you'd never have guessed that he was 80. When my folks moved to town about ten years ago, he was the one who kept lugging furniture long after his juniors had collapsed on the floor.

Larry is also a large part of the reason that this area isn't depressed like so many other rural counties in the west. When the air base closed in 1964, he was one of the guys who jumped on the chance to make an international airport out of it and attract industries that otherwise wouldn't have even thought about coming to Moses Lake. He supposedly retired 25 years ago, but that was just for show. I never saw a man as involved as Larry. Everything he turned his hand to seemed to prosper, to the benefit of everyone around him.

But all that is secondary. Larry was first and foremost one hell of a nice guy. He's my great-uncle; his sister was my grandmother. Thing is, there are no genes connecting us, because it's actually my stepfather's family. From them, though, I learned that "step" is a null concept in families. The moment my mom married his nephew, my sister and I were family. And that applied retroactively; we had always been family. My grandparents set that precedent at the wedding, and everybody else followed suit. We belonged, period. By extension, they kind of adopted my kids, some of whom are also "steps." There were no such technicalities in the Peterson/Fitzgerald family.

As you can see from the article, a lot of other people liked him, too. The funeral will be held at our church, which is just about the biggest in town, and I'll bet it's still overflowing. I sort of wonder what my aunt will do now that he's gone, as her health isn't very good. She's sharp as a tack - nothing wrong with her mind - but she doesn't get around as well as she used to. Still, there's no shortage of people who love her, me included. She'll be well cared for.

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him.

Sorry, fella

I know it was unprofessional of those doctors, but I would have laughed, too. Maybe you should be more careful of the company you keep.

Memo to parents:

The kids belong to the state, not to you.

There are so many things about this whole case that stink like a waterfront brothel the day after payday that I don't even know where to begin. As much as I loathe the FLDS, I don't think a whole lot more of CPS. I'd rather see children looked after by religious psychos who love them than state professionals who simply want to file their cases.

I'd be very, very interested in knowing some of the financial details of this operation. If CPS is going to be getting money to deal with this huge kid seizure, I'd like to know how much and whether they knew about it before the alleged phone call came. My prediction is that the girl who made the initial call will never be found, any criminal charges that are filed will be sporadic and serendipitous, and the vast majority of the parents will never hear from their kids again. Because when you deal with CPS, you're guilty even if proven innocent, simply because you have kids that the agency can get grants for taking away.

This stuck out at me like a bee-stung nose:

ELDORADO, Texas (AP) — State officials Tuesday defended their decision to suddenly separate mothers from many of the children taken in a raid on a polygamist ranch in West Texas.
Texas Children's Protective Services spokeswoman Marleigh Meisner said the separation was made Monday after they decided that children are more truthful in interviews about possible abuse if their parents are not around.

Where have we heard that before?

The last of his kind

Ollie Johnston, the last of Disney's incredible team of "Nine Old Men," travels in elephants. There's a wonderful article here, from someone who knew him.

You know, my kids don't know what it's like to watch hand-drawn cartoons. The older ones were weaned on Beauty and the Beast and The Little Mermaid, Disney's 90s renaissance, so they've seen a shadow of the artistry, at least. The younger ones don't remember at all a time when animation didn't come from computers.

The year I was born, Disney put out what would be its last successful animated feature until my first child was old enough to be watching them. The gap between the two marks another generational shift at Disney: The old artists giving way to the younger executives. More than seven decades after the first Disney feature was released, the art is still staggering in its simplicity, its detail, and its ability to turn distinctions between child and grown-up into irrelevancies for an hour and a half.

Your assignment: If you cried when Bambi lost his mother in the fire, say a prayer for Ollie's soul. If you still cry, go to the nearest church and light a candle for him. Be honest.

And then go home and show your kids what animation looked like when it was young.

Doesn't it figure?

Back in the dark days before Tim Eyman's car-tab initiative, the cost of registering a car was so prohibitive in Washington that anyone who lived close enough would license their cars in Oregon instead, even if it meant having family who lived in Oregon do it for you. In response, the Washington State Patrol took to sitting on the bridges leading from Vancouver into Portland, taking down license numbers of commuters with Oregon plates and checking them against utility bills and such. (I figure the excise tax must have been paying their salaries, since Lord knows it wasn't being used to maintain I-5 through that area.)

Ironic that The Woman who Would Be Governor should be doing her campaigning in an Oregon-registered vehicle. Maybe her followers could hide enough ballots in Salem to get her a mansion there, too.

Red in tooth and claw

The folks who are shocked that a polar bear would kill carp for fun are probably the same ones who think milk comes from the organic co-op and tofu grows on vines already wrapped in plastic. Some people, you just have to pat them on the head and smile.

Let me get this straight:

Weird religious group lies to authorities and helps groom young girls for sexual exploitation: Bad.

Government-funded agency lies to authorities and helps groom young girls for sexual exploitation: Good.

All clear?

Kosher shrimp?

Psych! (I'd love to know the story behind this one.)

Akubra tip to Damian.

Coming soon to a post office wall near you

Between work, second job and the stomach flu, I haven't had time or energy to post anything actually interesting, so I thought I'd put up a picture I found on my wife's camera. I'm pretty sure it was Number Three Daughter that snapped it. Here, for all the world to see, are our three youngest.

On the left, we have four-year-old Dai, the Visigoth. Those of you who follow my Lovely and Brilliant Wife's "Notes to Hypertot" will recognize him at once. He's the undisputed ringleader, the one that someday the others will be telling their therapists all about.

The one on the other end is Mona, the Ostrogoth. (Monkeytot, in Christina's parlance.) She's two, and has a long future ahead of her getting by on cuteness and charm. (Don't laugh; I know lots of adults who manage that.)

The little nipple-nibbler in the middle is Pete. (I ran out of Germanic tribes after Mona.) He's three months old today.

The picture is a little blurry, but this is as close as any of them get to sitting still. And I want to make absolutely clear that we do so clothe them. Unfortunately, short of stapling the clothing in place, we can't keep them that way.

So now you know what they look like.

Pastor Mike on sorrow, stupidity, and God's grace

Our friend Pastor Mike Barrett went on the 700 Club a while back to talk about some of the same things he discussed in his book, The Danger Habit. (Which, BTW, I highly recommend, especially for anyone with an adrenaline jones.)

(I couldn't get the video to embed, but you can see it here.)

One thing that struck me was when Mike was very honest about an incident in his life in which he was narrowly averted from something both sinful and stupid - and I mean on a hand-in-the-meat-grinder level. We've all been there, although as he does with everything else, Mike took it to an extreme. (Not that I've failed to be equally stupid and sinful on a frequent basis, mind you.) One of the silly memes that follows Christianity around is the idea that once you're "born again" or "saved," you automatically know better than to commit self-destructive (or other-destructive) sins. And only a hypocrite ever stumbles after that point.

So we're led to believe. But in real life, the Christian life is a slow, frustrating stagger toward the perfection that the Lord promises at the end of our lives.

God uses people who trip over their own feet, and He uses people who take chances that make my hair curl, and He even uses timid, unexciting people like me. He uses us as we are, because He made us as we are.

No Doubt!

A seriously cool article on my favorite apostle.

You know, I've wondered why we think of Thomas as "doubting," too. Yeah, I know he wanted proof of the Resurrection before he believed the rumors, but absent hindsight, wouldn't you? That misunderstanding aside, I tend to think of Thomas having stronger faith than any of the others.

Consider the two other spots in the Gospels where he has something to say. Right after he checks out Jesus' hands and side, he falls to his knees and says, "My Lord and my God." Not "Gosh, Master, what does this mean?" Not "Hey! You look almost like you could be God. Maybe you were the Messiah!"

No. It's "my Lord and my God." Period. For a supposed skeptic, Thomas absorbed the entire doctrine of the Incarnation, awfully quickly and without blinking. Once he knows the Jesus he's heard about is the same one he already knew, he's willing to believe anything that Jesus says. As Paul said later, "I know whom I have believed." That's faith in a Person, not merely in a set of doctrines.

The other one makes me embarrassed of my lack of faith. When Jesus is fixing to go to Bethany to see Lazarus and his sisters (and carry out a really spectacular miracle), the disciples try to talk Him out of it. All except Thomas. He shrugs and says, "Let us go also, that we may die with him."

Wow. He's certain the Jews are going to kill them, and he probably thinks Jesus is making a terrible mistake. But that's beside the point to Thomas. He's going to follow, even though he's pretty sure that it will all end badly. I think I would have at least looked for ways to stall Him a little.

That kind of puts the stories of Thomas' evangelism in India in perspective. Even if we slough off the more spectacular miracle stories as legend (and that's not always safe to do when you're talking about apostles), Thomas carried the Gospel farther and into more alien territory than any of the other disciples. In fact, just off the top of my head, I think he's the only one who carried the word outside the bounds of the Roman Empire. The church he founded in India is still there, despite being in decidedly Christian-unfriendly territory for two millennia.