Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Old Song, New Lyrics

to the tune of "Yankee Doodle."

Yankee Abe he said "We can't
Remain half slave half free.
We just need to Centralize
And make all slaves to me."

Yankee Abe prevaricate
Never cease to lie
Spin those tales and twist the truth
No matter who must die.

Politicians formed the Fed
Threw a spending bender
Pulled some paper from their arse 'n
Called it legal tender.

Politicians keep it up
Spend from dawn to dusk
Politicians feast on steak
While "We the Folks" eat husks

Politicians passed the Tax
The year was 1913
They said it's only three percent
And no tax on the hurting.

Politicians spin those lies
Twist the truth whenever
We the People won't catch on
We'll just think you're cleaver.

Politicians started wars
Told us it was glory
Wars they said will make us great
Though they're somewhat gory.

Politicians waste our youth to
Fund the moneyed classes
Pay no heed unto the cost
The bucks come from your asses.

Politicians spend like mad to
Hold on to their powers
They don't mind the future debt cause
It's not theirs it's ours.

Politicians spend, spend, spend,
Bring us to our knees,
Waste the substance of the folks
But foreign bankers please.

Politicians lead us down the
Primrose path to sorrow
Squander lives and money too
And borrow, borrow, borrow.

final chorus
Politicians keep it up
Spend from dusk till dawn
Politicians keep it up 'n
Soon we'll all be gone!

Repeat final chorus
Politicians keep it up
Soon we'll all be broke
Woeful want will be our lot n'
Slavery's heavy Yoke.
Repeat last phrase:
Woeful want will be our lot n'
This is not a joke.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Who's to Blame for America's pending financial Collapse and Corruption?

A friend recently wrote me comments on the problems of our government as follows:
Dear Armadillo
It is a government of the bribers, for the bribers and totally bought. Just depends on who wins at the auction. The insurance lobby, oil cartel, banking cartel, union cartel etc. etc. The average Joe is stuck and screwed....again...and again! Never really thought of it, but the entire elected government is bribed by their big contributors. That should be illegal but I guess it is not. Since the recent Supreme Court ruiling, now more than ever, any corporation, even foreign corporations can bribe, I mean donate to the politician who backs their plan. After that, it is a simple call and shoult out that there won't be a big multimillion donation unless.......

While there is much here to agree with there is also much that is problematic that is part of the Liberal statists talking points. Pity the poor politicians, who are just tempted with bribes beyond the point of resistance by the evil corporations and business community. Nonsense! I reject this description of things, not because they are often parroted by the liberal press and the statists fellow travelers, but because they simple miss the point. Here is my response:

Dear B––,
I can't disagree more with your analysis. I believe you confuse an effect with a cause.
One famous 1930s crook, when asked why he robbed banks, replied, "Because that's where the money is."
Well, these large corporations, DUE TO SO MUCH POLITICAL AND LEGISLATIVE POWER CONCENTRATED IN ONE ENTITY, must go "where the money is"-–Washington––to compete. These businesses and corporations must not only fight for market share, they must also fight for any legislative advantage that will help them continue to compete and survive–––and, God forbid––even perhaps...dare I say it; Prosper. (Remember that word? You don't hear it much any more today. I think soon Obama will officially expunge it from the American vocabulary. He's probably do it the same day he renames the green lady in New York Harbor "The Statue of Forced Equality of Outcome."
The fact is our system requires businesses to fight on two fields of competition, not just one, and this drives costs up while, you got it, enriching and further empowering politicians. It is a vicious circle of the worst kind.
Blaming these companies for doing what they must do to survive is like blaming a dog for eating a large pizza lying in a partially open box you left lying on the living room floor---Yes, it happened here.
Entities have a RIGHT to act in their own best interest. As I've said many times I'm sure many of these corporations and their CEOs would prefer never to engage in the seamy business of Lobbying and all that entails, but they MUST for survival's sake.
In addition, I'm sure many politicians go to Washington with good intentions only to be forced into the whole corrupt system in order to survive and do at least a little of the good they have in mind. So, in a sense it's hard to blame even the politicians.
So where is the blame to be rightfully placed? It's simple:
The blame lies in the incremental accrual of massive power in one place. The problem is a personal one only in as far as conditions present demands for survival and temptations only the most virtuous can resist. The problem is systemic. Centralized government has taken on it's own, twisted, sick, liberty destroying, totalitarian life, dragging all of us with it.
Statist like the Collectivist Obama drive government further and further in the direction it already wants to grow. Those of an individualist slant can only slow it down--a la Reagan. But they can't even stop it.
The fact is simple; ONLY WE THE PEOPLE will be able to stop it. Jefferson spoke about the need for revolution with a degree of frequency, costing the blood of patriots and tyrants (note he does not call a tyrant like Obama a patriot––for tyranny is treason.) This quote is often pointed out, but one thing few ever note is WHEN he made the statement: after the War of secession in 1776, after the Constitution was signed and he had been President.
The system must, by whatever means, be dismantled and some thing (or things) else put in its place. There is no other solution. Reform is impossible. The consolidation and concentration of power in one single entity: the Central Unconstitutional Monstrosity, Mordor on the Potomac we call our Federal Government, MUST come to an end if we are to regain our Liberty.
Once power is distributed as the Constitution provides, $$$ will also be distributed and the abuses of Fascism (collusion of government and corporations) will be significantly reduced and more quickly spotted and ended. But the real dividend that is most meaningful will be the cause of all other benefits: LIBERTY.
Remember Liberty?

Ale and Haggis: they're not just for Breakfast any more!

It is often said that one of the shortest books in the world includes the book of great Scottish cooking. It is my opinion that the person who wrote that never had any real Scottish food. If he had he would change his opinion.
Well, you say, you may be right, but I'm not about to jump on a plane and fly to Scotland just to eat some Scottish food.
I've driven halfway across Florida for some Cajun catfish and dirty rice--but I admit, I understand your objection.
But, fortunately, you don't have to go to Scotland to get great Haggis--and whole lot more. You can find great Scottish food right here, made in these United States.
I'm speaking of the Caledonian Kitchen and most especially their fantastic Haggis. For those unfamiliar with the dish it's usually made of lamb, pin head oats and spices, including one spice that is little used in the US but is fantastically good: Mace.
Well, there's no good talking about Haggis. You've just got to taste it. Have it for breakfast (with or without beer), or as the protein part of supper. Haggis is traditionally served with Neeps and Tatties (Rutabagas and mashed potatoes). But I've found Haggis is great with eggs in the morning or a steamed sweet potato at the evening meal.
So, how do you get it? Well, start by going to the Caledonia Kitchen web site and ordering few cans. It comes in Lamb (my favorite), beef, sirloin beef and even vegetarian! While you're there check out the Irish and Scottish stews, and the Whiskey cakes. I've had a chance to sample all of these and you simply can't go wrong by ordering any or all of them.
If you're looking for good food and something out of the ordinary that you'll find as amazingly good as it is unique you will be glad you checked out the Caledonian Kitchen on line. In fact, all this makes me remember I've got to order some more haggis for myself––and maybe a few cans of whiskey cake.
So, here's the site to check out for yourself. You'll be glad you did!

Saturday, March 13, 2010

A Lesson Learned; A Lesson Remembered

My youngest child is nearing 13 years old, and like tens of thousands of American children her age she likes to watch the Disney and Nickelodeon channels. I do my best to limit her viewing and am very selective about what programs she sees, but don't believe I can forbid everything. Instead I try to watch some things with her and make an occasional comment here and there. I also try to play a lot of Mozart, Brahms, some Gilbert and Sullivan and even Prokofiev and Stravinsky for her to counter the prosaic pablum that makes up the steady diet of mediocrity offered on these and other channels. (She loves Gilbert and Sullivan and Mozart, and wants to be an opera singer, so I'm not doing what might be called cultural force-feeding by any means.)

Anyway, not long ago I was watching a program with her that ended in the usual musical performance by the star, who looks like another cookie cutter model straight out of some fashion magazine singing (well-miked, of course) while other teens in the audience cheered and gyrated chaotically, lights flashed, loud electronic music blared, special effects were generated, and the youthful principal danced up, down and across the stage with several dancers behind her and back up singers gesturing, and all in glitzy stage dress. As I watched I was taken back to an event that happened to me many years ago when I was still in high school.

The year was 1964 and our high school band had traveled from the coal mining area of southeastern Kentucky westward to the grand southern city of Memphis, Tennessee, overlooking as it does the sprawling Mississippi river. The Mississippi at Memphis was a striking change from the creeks and rills that meandered snake-like down the hollows of my mountain home land. None of us had seen anything quite like it. The Great River dividing these United States is fast moving, narrow and deep as it flows through Minnesota, but after being joined by the Ohio river at Cairo, it grows amazingly broad and slow moving by the time it reaches Memphis. It is almost as if Nature Herself is giving happy acknowledgment by means of this great river that it is now entering a very different land than the one it has left, a land with a warmer climate, a more genteel and neighborly people and leisurely, agrarian life.

Most of us in the band had never really left the region of our birth. Memphis was amazing to us. We were there to take part in the Cotton Carnival, which included a big parade with floats and bands from all across the Southland. I hated marching, but, as I saw it, seeing a large city like Memphis was worth the sacrifice.

Much to our joy we had a few days where we could see the sights and sounds of Memphis. For instance, I recall a trip to the Memphis zoo. In the evening we were even allowed something unheard of in our own time: unsupervised time in the big city. I was unsure what I would do but some how I learned the Preservation Hall Band was going to be giving a concert at a certain address.

I played clarinet in the band and began playing clarinet largely because of listening to my great uncle's Lps of Eddie Condon, the Dukes of Dixieland and many others. My great uncle was a barber in town, but had played trombone and toured as a young man with circus bands, and played the popular big band music of the time with many small time professional dance bands. He introduced me to Benny Goodman, Bunny Berigan, Bix Beiderbeck, Glenn Miller, Hoagie Carmichael and, of course, Tommy Dorsey. I liked the big bands, but I liked Dixieland best and the clarinet was my most favorite of all the instruments.

I would spend hours in Cumberland Valley Music going through the recordings and listening to them with a few of my friends. I was always glad that very few people there in the mountains liked jazz, because I could get the recordings at a discount.

I was friends with one of the best trumpet players in our high school band. His mother had graduated from Cincinnati Conservatory in piano and took a real interest in the kids in the band that showed enthusiasm and talent. She had even taken several of us to Knoxville to hear Al Hirt and his band in concert. Hearing him live made me even more enthusiastic about music and being a musician. I had heard Hirt before on Lawrence Welk's show, where he regularly appeared with my most favorite musician of all: Pete Fountain.

Pete's playing on Welk inspired me and I lived through the week looking forward to Saturday night and the segment of the Welk program that featured him. It broke my heart when he left Welk to return to New Orleans. At that time there was no internet. If you wanted recordings and no local stores had what you were looking for mail order record clubs advertised in magazines were your only recourse. Consequently, I looked through periodical after periodical in search of companies selling Pete's recordings. I still have them today––but no record player.

Jazz wasn't all I had ordered from those magazines. I had even had purchased a recording that had a stranger, modernist painting of a man's face on its cover––just because it looked cool. When I got the album I loved it and played it over and over. It became one of my most favorite (Years later I would learn to love more of Schostakovich's music than his fifth symphony.)

I relate all this to let you know that despite my decidedly parochial, isolated upbringing, I wasn't altogether unfamiliar with the music of the past. So it shouldn't be surprising that I had heard of the Preservation Hall Band and was really excited to hear they were coming to Memphis during Cotton Carnival. What made it even better was the concert was free!

I can't recall if I was alone or if a friend came with me, but I do remember wandering through the streets using the directions I had been given by the concierge at the hotel. The concert was to begin rather late (9:00 PM) and the summer sun was just going down as I walked from street to street, pausing at each corner to check the street names to see if I was on track or hopelessly lost. The evening sky was perfectly clear and I could see all the buildings black against the thin sliver of orange-red on the horizon as it morphed into pale blue overhead and finally into the blue black of early evening that had already filled the eastern sky and which was creeping gradually and inexorably westward.

I was very excited to hear these legendary musicians live and so I came early––a habit of mine I retained until I was married. (Those gentlemen readers who are in like state will know well what I mean.)

I was perplexed, to say the least, when I arrived at the address. There was no marquee, no lights, no signs or billboards advertising the concert––nothing. There was only an open door showing a dimly lit room and people milling around outside on the street and others entering a few at a time. If you were just passing by you would never suspect a concert was about to start––not there, at least! I was in such doubt myself I asked someone standing in the small crowd outside if I was in the right place. He nodded indicating I was. So, I thanked him and went in to see if I could get a seat.

When I entered the room I received yet another shock. There were no seats to be seen except a few placed on a wooden, make-shift stage that looked like it had been hastily fabricated and shoved against one of the four bare brick walls enclosing an equally bare, concrete floor.

I noticed there was also an old upright piano and a beat up tuba on the stage, which looked so rickety that I would not have been surprised if the piano would crash through it to the floor at any moment.

This was very different from the plush concert hall I had heard Al Hirt in only months before. (At that time I did not know that the Preservation Hall band played in the exact same spartan conditions in New Orleans.)

I made my way so I was standing about ten feet in front of the stage. It was a good thing I had come early, because as the minutes passed and the performance time grew closer more and more people crowded into the hall and stood on the bare concrete floor facing the stage. I noticed there were people there from every social class and racial group. There was no resentment or hateful looks, no preening and posturing commonly seen at the symphony––this was as far as you could get from a "social affair." There were also no fire extinguishers that I could see, no official city supervisor making sure the room was not over capacity, no government employee going around with a noise meter or testing the air or inspecting for rats and other vermin. We were in a government-free zone, at least for a few hours. There was just a growing crowd of souls standing on a concrete floor, staring at a dimly lit make shift stage waiting to hear the music they loved.

Finally, from a side door the musicians entered without fanfare. They unceremoniously climbed the three or four steps as the stage groaned under their weight and sat down in their respective chairs. Most of them were old, among them were both blacks and whites. The tubist, as I recall, was the youngest and white. The leader was an old black man with hair as white as snow. He played cornet.

He did not speak or give introductions, though later the musicians were introduced. He did not announce the first tune, nor were there any programs. He simply raised the cornet to his lips, glanced over his shoulder for a moment to make sure every one was ready and kicked off the first tune. The reason the tune was not announced became clear the moment they began to play: it didn't matter. From the first note it seemed as if we were all suddenly lifted up, transported out of time and place into another state of being. We were all one, players and listeners, united by the wondrous sounds that echoed against the bricks and poured out onto the street through the still open entrance.

There was no fancy stage, no special effects, no dazzling stage lighting, no glitzy suits and dresses, no make up, no huge speakers blaring electronic sounds and sound effects, no back up singers or dancers, no microphones or amplification of any kind, no slim, trim, beautiful young people with perfect teeth and well coached stage presence moving with perfectly coordinated gestures, no shrieking, hysterical crowd of empty-headed teens gyrating back and forth. What we heard needed none of that, for it was real and true. It came with its own transcendent beauty, pouring from the musician's souls through their instruments and into our hearts.

As their music filled the room I was nothing short of ecstatic and I could feel tears involuntarily well up and pour down my cheeks. In my delight I managed to compose myself long enough to look around the room. Every person I could see was wholly focused upon the music and the performers. But there was more––everyone I could see, standing with me on that concrete floor, in that dimly lit, smoky room, listening to those souls, many in the twilight of their years––every one was smiling, and their faces beamed with a transcendent and unalloyed joy. A spirit of love had entered with the music and, miracle of miracles, it sustained us the entire evening.

As the final tune was played and the final cheers and applause of sincere joy and gratitude died away and we filtered slowly out of the door and into the street I noted the silence among the attendees was hardly broken, and the look of joy was still upon their faces.

The performance had been free, but was worth the combined audience's weight in gold and more. It was, as the credit card commercial says, "priceless."

After the performance I strolled down the dark Memphis streets the happiest I could ever remember being. Besides being filled with joy that night I had also learned a valuable lesson, and as I sat with my daughter and my ears were being assaulted with glitzy sound and fury signifying nothing (that which today's media moguls try to pawn off on our children as musical entertainment) a valuable lesson once learned became a valuable lesson remembered.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

The Demands of LIberty

Freedom is a difficult thing to accept. Not our freedom, of course, but that of others.

Our Lord put it simply. He said, in essence, everything boils down to us. It’s not all about us, of course, but it all starts with us, for, at least in a proximate sense, ourselves are all we have. We, in the final analysis, are all we can really do anything about.

In His Infinite Wisdom Our Lord knew this and so He began with us as the touch point for his moral teaching by saying we are to love others as we love ourselves; we are to are to treat others as we want to be treated.

His unequivocal teaching clearly implies that we need not go further than the impulses of our own longings and most ardent desires to know the most profound things about others and discover the laws, the standards as it were, by which we are to relate to our neighbor, whether he be next door or on the other side of the world.

This, I insist, is not Our Lord’s dogmatic teaching, but His practical one. He knew and knows us well. If his Life and Teaching tell us nothing else at all it tells us that Liberty, with all its attendant difficulties, is, even for a fallen creature, wounded as he is with concupiscence, is still the only valid thing; the only thing that works; the only thing that can lead us out of our present human dilemma and into that great and glorious liberty of the Sons and Daughters of God: Veritas liberabit vos.

We are to live here as if we are there, for in a sense, we are. The One who came to “restore all things” tells us we are to live on this earth under the One Law God established in the beginning, not the two preferred by a fallen creature as he soujourned east of Eden.

This imposition of the One Law, so succinctly given by Our Lord, presents a great and immediate difficulty to us fallen critters, for experience teaches us we are reflexively inclined to have one standard for ourselves and a quite different one for others.

What does this have to do with the Southern cause of liberty so immediately uppermost in many of our minds? What has this to do with the Founding of our once great Republic and the substance of our once functioning Constitution?

Worthy questions all! And in response I offer what I believe to be a worthy answer: “Simply everything.”

I bring this up here because experience has taught me that the One Law is a very easy thing to let slide, to conveniently overlook, to find momentary exception to, to rationalize away, to simply set aside out of fear or “practical” concerns, such as “the public good.” It is easy to pass over for these or any of a thousand and one other possible reasons.

In the face of all these “practical considerations,” I don’t recall Our Lord acknowledging any as valid enough to permit an exception to the One Law, even for a single instance.

I could, of course, be wrong, since I’m hardly any theologian or Scripture scholar. But if I am correct we don’t have a lot of wriggle room. In fact, we don’t have any at all.

Indeed, like W. C. Fields was said to have done in his cconvalescing years, we may search the Scripture looking for loop holes only to find there is no getting around the hard fact: we must grant our neighbor the same liberty, both in kind and degree, that we demand for ourselves.

The equality Jefferson spoke of in his celebrated Declaration may imply more than that, but it can never imply less than that. The moment equality becomes so distorted and misapplied as to impair and diminish liberty it not only ceases to be American, it ceases to be equality and morphs into tyranny.

Those of us who do accept the One Law have no cause for celebrating or indulging some sense of superiority. Acceptance is not accomplishment, it is only the beginning of our labors.

We must not only accept, we must conform to that which we have accepted. Anyone who has tried it even for a short time knows what failure is. He has also come to know that it takes real courage to remain consistent in supporting the One Law, and such a realization cannot help but cause us to view the Founders with renewed admiration, for they made the theme of their labors, their sine qua non, their final cause and pearl of great price that thing we call Liberty.

What would such a society look like? What form would it take? What would regulate it? Would statist tyranny be merely supplanted with a puritanical religion based one that erodes liberty under just another flag?

The exercise of mutual Liberty is a fearful thing because it demands as much trust from us as it grants to us. A society based on Liberty is, de facto, a society rooted in the necessity of trusting our neighbor to consider our good and not his only. A liberty based society cannot work under terms other than that and remain liberty based.

The fact that we now fear it and even doubt its possibility shows how far we are removed from the real demands of freedom. Yet, not long ago, it was not that way. I know, for I have witnessed it.

For instance, as a child I recall the trust and generosity of those Southeast Kentucky mountain folk I proudly and gratefully name as “my people.” The good people inhabiting those beautiful and gentle hills met strangers with curiosity, not suspicion. To say or think otherwise is to labour under the delusion of a false, yankeefied caricature.

Encounters with strangers commonly resulted in sitting down at a meal of fresh garden vegetables and home grown meats together and, afterwards, a friendly talk on the front porch about all manner of things as the summer afternoon slowly turned into evening, the long shadows of the mountains turn the land into black sillouhettes against a still bright pale blue sky and fireflies illuminated the evening with their magical, mystical light, all coordinated with the music of a thousand crickets.

My people reflexively assumed a good will in the stranger passing through or the new comer. This practice was not just a habit of body, it was a habit of mind and of soul––a common disposition. The stranger was assumed innocent until he had proven himself guilty beyond the shadow of a reasonable doubt by a deliberate act of malice.

Was good will ever betrayed? Of course, but more times than not it was rewarded, and the rewards served as the bulwark that guarded against bitterness and cynicism.

Let us be plain about the consequences of the exercise of universal liberty: The moment we place our trust in another we lose total control. This abdication of control, freely chosen by the will, is nothing less than a rejection of the practice of personal tyranny. It takes courage and discipline.

At a lecture I attended last month Lew Rockwell gave a speech about liberty. In it he recounted an event in one of the Russian Republics freed of Soviet domination. It seems the leaders were all for a proposed reform up to the point they realized it required that the people have freedom of movement in the process of seeking a better life themselves and their families. These leaders simply could not accept freedom. They were like starving dogs who, coming upon food, could not bring themselves to eat.

They were like the fruit fly who had tried and failed to escape from a covered jar so many times they ceased to try, even long after its had been removed. Not only that, but these men God had created free, had become so enslaved in their minds, they not only refused freedom, they feared it. They opted for the thing to which their enslaved minds had become conditioned: central planning.

They demonstrated by their actions they not only did not trust their neighbor, they did not trust themselves outside of the security of the collective.

It is a fiction for us in America to entertain the notion that we are the least bit different, except perhaps in degree. The chief feature of one who has been propagandized is the denial that he has been propagandized.

I recently went for a haircut and was served by a lovely young lady of Mexican heritage. During our conversation I tried my best to explain to her what Liberty was all about and its value. I could see that she was genuinely interested but very unfamiliar with the subject. At one point in our conversation she said, “Well, liberty might be fine for most of us, but what about those who don’t know how to act?”

I answered that the greatest single factor in limiting our personal actions and choices in life is the same factor that regulates business choices in free markets: risk. The possibility of failure and the loss that inevitably follows.

I told her the one thing that a free society does not provide, at least as government policy, is a bailout. In a free society that is what the churches are for; to bind up the wounded, to instruct the ignorant and to encourage the fearful.

In a free society we do not need a police state to maintain order. Risk and the possibility of real loss, real punishment, real and severe consequences for criminal, immoral, irresponsible, fool hearty and abusive acts do the job more adequately, more perfectly and more completely than any police state ever could. Unlike the law enforcement officers that patrol the police state, the cause and effect of our choices in a free society never sleeps, never ceases to teach and instruct those with a teachable spirit, never ceases to encourage in just the right way by the very means of its punishments: natural law and a liberty based society go together like butter and toast––or my personal favorite: peanut butter and chocolate.

As I spoke I could see the light of liberty begin to shine in her eyes. She understood. She saw that liberty was not just good for me, the old guy of European descent, and bad for her, the immigrant from Mexico, but good for us both.

I spoke to her as I speak to every one else. I have no idea what she has been raised to think of the “gringo,” and I don’t care. Those of us who love liberty refuse to think in the categories of the ant-brained collectivist. I cared only that she saw the jewel of American liberty, if only for a fleeting moment.

I ended by paraphrasing that great lover of the Constitution and liberty, Dr. Ron Paul––a northerner by accident of birth, but in many ways one of us and one with us.

I told her the concern of those who love liberty is not that we all agree––forced agreement by any means is the way of the tyrant––those of us who love liberty care only that we all be free. Let us first establish that and then we may, without fear, labour to resolve all that remains.

Many of us in the South think that the greatest challenge we face is our struggle for independence from a tyrannical, rapacious government run amuck; a government that has rejected its foundational documents, heaped contempt upon its fundamental principles, ceased to serve the people and seeks only its own growth in power, prestige and control by despotism domestically and aggression abroad.

There is no denying it, this is a great challenge. But I believe we too have our own share of Stockholm syndrome.

We have been unconsciously wounded and do not see that our labors within ourselves are at least as great as those we face from without.

We need to consider the possibility a small swamp critter from the Okefenokee named Pogo knew long ago: “We have met the enemy and he is us.”

How we face and deal with that fact will determine if, when the opportunity of liberty comes, whether we are ready and have the courage to live under its benevolent aegis, or whether we will simply seek to replace the Yankee’s brand of tyranny with some legalistic, theocratic horror of our own making.

Monday, March 8, 2010


quick reflection:
It's too bad Rahm Emanuel was born a Jew, in America in 1969 instead of being a German, born in Bavaria in 1900––he would have made a great Nazi!

Sunday, March 7, 2010

The One Case where Roe vs Wade May have been right??

As both a human and an orthodox Catholic the Armadillo is categorically opposed to the taking of innocent human life at any stage. Human common sense informs the Armadillo as much, Catholic doctrine further confirms it.

This does not mean, however, that the Armadillo is not tempted to consider the possibility of at least one exception. For instance, the longer I listen to the brainless, incoherent ramblings of our present Speakerette of the House the more I think perhaps her position on abortion may be right, at least in her own case. If I let myself entertain that as, at least, a plausibility, my mind then begins to wander. For instance, I think if we can make an exception for her what about Neocons? Harry Reid? Keith Olbermann? Rachel Maddow? Modern Liberals and related lovers of the culture of death? TV and radio pundits who labor under the delusion they are conservatives yet are avowed Lincoln worshippers? People who drive slow in the fast lane? People who drive fast in the slow lane? People who speed into a parking space at the last moment you've been obviously waiting for? People who strike up neighborly conversations with the check out girl in the express lane of the grocery store? THE EXPRESS LANE, for heaven's sake! What about Yankees? Yankee sympathizers (Scalawags)? Yankee Bankers? Skinheads and white supremacists who co-opt the Confederate Battle Flag? Feminists of all stripes? Race and welfare pimps posing as social reformers? Social reformers posing as politicians? Manikins posing as news anchors? How about aborting state run schools--but they're an abortion already––how could I forget? How about our so-called institutions of Lower-Living (formerly known as institutions of higher education?) Hmmm, let's see, little tyrants and demagogues posing as insect brained collectivist wealth redistributors posing as political leaders? Keynesians? Lying radio and TV personalities who say one thing and do another? Think Tank employees who are responsible for inventing politically correct language? Okay, Think Tank employees in general? Movie stars who, because they were born with good looks and an ability to get their lines right (on the 50th take!), and who, though they dropped out of High School in their junior year, think they are none the less qualified to speak on subjects of philosophical, moral and political complexity and therefore broadcast their presumptuous ignorance to millions who are even more ignorant than they? And so it goes.

Indeed, I believe with a little effort I could add substantially to Mr. W. S. Gilbert's celebrated "Little List"---starting with where he left off; the lady novelist, I'm sure she won't be missed––Oh no, she won't be missed––nor will Neocon pundits of the fairer sex––fairer? Yea, right!

Just as the mental and political climate of America is looking a lot better to me (closer to the mind-set of the Founders) it dawns on me I could, of course, continue on, ad infinitum, ad nauseum---and that leads me to see the slippery slope that vindicates the wisdom of the Church in forbidding the whole process at the git go by simply rejecting all exceptions......still, there is the Speakerette...

The Lord has promised He will not allow us to be tempted more than we can bear. Yet, in allowing the continued hegenomiacal existence of Dear Speakerette He may have gone a bit overboard. There is, after all, only so much flesh and blood can take. On the other hands if His plan was simply to cause us to feel our weakness and cry to Him for Mercy His efforts have met with smashing success.

Lord, hear our prayer.

Friday, March 5, 2010

the former and STILL slave masters

After the war for Southern Independence Massachusetts lawyer and outspoken abolitionist, Lysander Spooner, wrote the following:
"The principle, on which the war was waged by the North, was simply this: That men may rightfully be compelled to submit to, and support, a government that they do not want; and that resistance, on their part, makes them traitors and criminals. No principle, that is possible to be named, can be more self-evidently false than this; or more self-evidently fatal to all political freedom. Yet it triumphed in the field, and is now assumed to be established. If it really be established, the number of slaves, instead of having been diminished by the war, has been greatly increased; for a man, thus subjected to a government that he does not want, is a slave. And there is no difference, in principle --- but only in degree --- between political and chattel slavery. The former, no less than the latter, denies a man's ownership of himself and the products of his labor; and asserts that other men may own him, and dispose of him and his property, for their uses, and at their pleasure."

Indeed! Yet, few took Spooner seriously at the time. Of course, there were those voices of concern. For instance Harriet Beecher-Stowe's brother, Edward, expressed alarm at the growth of centralized government and the increase in taxes. He also noted that it seemed like a dangerous idea for a remote, centralized government to be increasingly involved in local affairs and concerns, but, he noted, this seemed to be happening alarmingly frequently and in alarming degrees.

Well, duhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. What do you Yankees think you were fighting for? Your liberty?!? Were y'all really that stupid?

This "trend" Mr. Beecher noted has become a standard, applied countless times and on countless levels of the lives of once free citizens of once Sovereign states.

There is no need to belabor the gory details. They are all too clear for those with eyes to see and ears to hear.
We Americans need not make it complicated. It can all be summed up in the following somewhat untraditional yet, none-the-less true syllogism:
1. Debt is slavery.
2. The Federal Government, through its insane, unbridled over-spending to buy votes, perpetuate power and extend the glory of the Empire, has placed "We the People," over and against our wills, in massive, multigenerational debt.
3. The Federal government, by the creation of massive Federal Debt, has long ceased to be our servant and protector, and now become our slave master.
Welcome to Uncle Sam's Plantation!

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Armadillo announces 2010 Awards

The Armadillo announces a tie in his "Courage and Forthrightness in Broadcasting" Award for 2010. Normally the Armadillo waits until the end of the year, but the outstanding effort in this one category is so great as not likely to be surpassed or surpassable. Ergo, no reason to not bestow the award now:
The recipients who have tied for the Courage and Forthrightness in Broadcasting 2010 Award are Dallas KLIF talk show hosts, Jon David Wells and Jeff Bolton.
They are actually already receiving their award, which is the admiration, respect and active listener support of the Armadillo (and thousands of other Dallas listeners), promising to always opt to listen to them in lieu of the Big Media Big Mouth Neocon Shills, on other local and national stations!
Congratulations, Gentlemen. You not only have my respect, but my gratitude as well and my highest encomium.
As for the coming election for governor: I could not get through this afternoon to J.D. to make my voice heard, but here's my take:
I'm going to vote Libertarian or write in Debra, depending upon how good the Libertarian candidate may be.
I believe that we American voters have willingly accepted mediocrity, always being pushed into position of supporting the lesser of two evils. We hold our noses and vote for someone who disgusts us because the only other choice disgusts us more.
That was my case until Dr. Ron Paul and now, Debra Medina.
Why did she not win a runoff position?
Things are not bad enough; too may Texans are too comfortable still, and so they vote the status quo and keep on keeping on. I think this will continue until a sufficient number can no longer keep on keeping on. That time is not far off; the chickens are soon coming home to roost.
I think some where and some time WE MUST DRAW A LINE IN THE SAND AND SAY ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!
For me, that some where is HERE IN TEXAS, that some time is NOW!
I am willing to vote my principles, even if it means taking a serious chance things might get worse.
That's not all bad. Things have gotten worse with Obama, and from that we have the good of the Tparty movement.
If this election has shown us Tparty folks one thing it is this: IN ORDER FOR THINGS TO GET BETTER IN TEXAS THEY MUST FIRST GET WORSE. At this point people are willing to trade liberty for perceived security, all the while endangering both.
That is unacceptable. I will not be complicit with perpetuating the system that protects the mediocre, machine, big government politcians.
A vote for Perry simply perpetuates the game.
The Armadillo