Senior party members condemned the reluctance of the White House and Republican leaders to siphon off the money from a 700-billion-dollar finance industry bailout which has already been approved.
Senate Majority leader Harry Reid hit out at Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson for refusing to adapt the huge bailout to aid the auto industry, saying: "All it would take is one stroke of a pen and that problem would be solved.
"We are seeing a potential meltdown in the auto industry, with consequences that could directly impact millions of American workers and cause further devastation to our economy."

And thus the disconnect is exposed: poor management, excessive union benefits, poor quality product, terrible fuel efficiency, no innovation – and all that is fixed with “one stroke of a pen.”
One stroke of the pen takes a problem many years in the making and pushes it back 6 months – at cost to the tax payer.

With this next president and congress seems to come the new era of “free love and nickle beer”, as my old boss would say. Of this new leadership, one point has been driven well home: if you can’t do it on your own, the government will do it for you. My problem with that: if the government will do it for you, why do it for yourself?

And, as sometimes gets lost in the shuffle of ideologies: with freedom comes responsibility; abdicate one, the other must follow suit. If you wish to give the government some responsibility, the cost is freedom. I ain't willing to pay that cost.




While flipping channels a few nights ago, my wife came across “Real Housewives of Atlanta” and I made a starling (if not politically incorrect) discovery: stereotypes are very accurate – and the more you wish to make it not so, the more true it becomes. Don’t understand the statement, watch the show, you will. You will.

And finally, after a pulled muscle in my back caused severe pain and difficulty, I came to understand that few problems in life cannot be solved by a Ping 4-iron and a few hydrocodone.

American cars suck. It’s not that we Americans lack the capacity to make nice cars, we make many foreign-brand cars right here on our shores; however, our Big Three lack the capacity to make a decent, competitive car, and the reason is quite simple: the United Auto Workers union.
In 2004, GM hourly and salaried employees paid 27% of their total health-care costs. That same year, UAW contracts paid just 7% of their health care costs. For each GM vehicle made in 2005, $1,600 of the total price tag paid UAW members’ health-care benefits.

UAW members earn higher wages, get more benefits, and enjoy job security – all while producing an inferior product.

So, do we bail out GM? Do we continue to allow a union of lazy slouches like the UAW to bankrupt their companies?

Bankruptcy might not be such a bad choice. Many industries have survived bankruptcies and emerged stronger. Bankrupt companies do n0ot simply dissolve and go away, they restructure, they adapt.

By bailing out the US auto industry, we continue on the path of their eternal bailout. Till the UAW is addressed, any fix is temporary.

Foreign-brand cars made right here in America are far better vehicles, and the companies that make them are far more sustainable. Ford, GM, and Chrysler are sinking due to the immense financial burden that is the United Auto Workers union.

Free market economics works, but only if you let it work. Weak companies fail, stronger companies emerge, competition fills the void: it only works if the federal government stops supplementing bad business models and poor performance.

Socialism isn’t coming, it’s here – and guess who is gonna pay for all this!

The jubilation continues. Some groups are calling for a national holiday for Obama; others are praising his victory as a great water-shed moment in US history. To the jubilant, and not to be a Negative Nancy: what if he turns out to be a catastrophic failure? What if electing Obama is the beginning of the end, our great national undoing? What if he is not only the first black US President, but the worst US President; is it still a great moment in US history?

My understanding of celebrating greatness is that you do so after greatness is achieved. And he ain’t done that yet! Not by far. Sure, he won an election, so did Jimmy Carter, look how that worked out for us.

And now Louis Farrakhan says he can finally endorse Obama. I guess proclaiming him Messiah isn’t a formal endorsement.

This article has some interesting points, such as:

Many of the voters that backed Republican Senator John McCain "were older Americans and most reside below the Mason-Dixon line where racial attitudes and traditions die hard," he said in a reference to the American South.

Many Muslims are terrorists, many blacks are racists, many northerners are morons: I too find stereotypes to be real time-savers. And mine are just as accurate as his.

"I'm sure that many of our people have unfortunately lost their lives because of the absolute hatred that is manifested now that one of our own has risen to such a high office," he told the crowd at the national headquarters of the Nation of Islam.

Many of his people have been killed because Obama won? Where, precisely, are black Muslims being killed for Obama’s victory? As a general rule, Farrakhan is a liar and an idiot, and nothing he has said – to my limited knowledge - is more stupid than this. And, for clarity, that includes Farrakhan’s assertions that Whitey bombed the levees and created AIDS to kill the black man.

On Sunday, he also said that the gracious concession speech given by McCain had not assuaged "the pain of loss and frustration and disappointment to those who felt great pain at Obama's rise."

My pain at Obama’s rise has nothing to do with race and everything to do with character, beliefs, and policies. Obama isn’t bad because he is black, he is bad because he espouses socialism, he cares little for me, and he is a blatant, all-out racist.

And he said that for some people, the prospect of a black family in the White House, was a "sacrilege."

Again, as a Southern bumpkin, I presume Farrakhan is referencing us racist southern rednecks. And again, Farrakhan is exactly wrong. I would like little more than to see Alan Keyes in the White House. Keyes is a true conservative, a patriot, and a black man. I like him due to his political views, his character, and his beliefs, race is no part of the equation.

Farrakhan heaped praise upon Obama during the long speech, and said he could speak openly now that the election was wrapped up and his comments could not be used to hurt the Illinois senator.
He never formally endorsed Obama during the long campaign, apparently conscious that such a step might handicap the aspiring presidential candidate given Farrakhan's divisive reputation.

On February 24th, 2008, Farrakhan proclaimed of Obama, “When the Messiah speaks, the youth will hear, and the Messiah is absolutely speaking." Was that not an endorsement? If not, what exactly is an endorsement?

Greatly disliking Obama does not make one a racist. I greatly dislike Ted Kennedy, and Nancy Pelosi, and Harry Reid, and John Murtha – and they are all white devils. I also greatly dislike Jesse Jackson and Quanell X and Al Sharpton: it ain’t about race.
Martin Luther King Jr said, “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” My disdain for Obama – like my disdain for Ted Kennedy has nothing to do with race and everything to do with the dis-quality of their character.

It was about 10 minutes after pitch black. I’d been in the stand for 3 hours and not seen a damned thing worth shooting. There was a certain squirrel with a death-wish, but I kept the suppressed .22LR holstered for fear of driving off more valuable prey.

While contemplating whether to pack up my gear or step outside and relieve myself, I thought I saw a shadow move about 100 yards away. In a small clearing, just on the edge of a tree line, I could barely make out a large patch of black, with a black background. So, after dark, the slightest bit of moonlight filtering through the trees, and I thought I saw something black moving against a black background. I knew the guide was in route to end the hunt, if I was to shoot at the darkness, it needed to be quick. And accurate, one doesn’t wish to miss darkness.

I shouldered my rifle, made out the silhouette, aimed as best I could (i.e.: put my black reticule on the black target with the black background) and squeezed.

Because it was very dark, and because my rifle has a muzzle brake, the fire that burst forth blinded me for about 5 seconds. I heard nothing, no squealing, no gasping at last breaths, nothing. I saw nothing, no dust, no movement, just more black night. Silence and darkness aren’t the most gratifying ways to end a hunt.

As I sat and waited for the guide and my fellow hunters, I watched the patch of earth and slowly convinced myself that I had shot at a shadow. Bare in mind, this rifle has never, ever missed game; and I have never hit an animal with this rifle that moved away from the point of impact. All that seemed destine to change.

Dammit.

As the truck approached and my fellow hunters queried, I said, “I took a shot at what I think was a hog – or maybe not.” After the laughter and lecturing of hunting ethics and need for hunter safety subsided, we went in search of tell-tale signs.

There, in the wallow, was blood, lots of blood. There was, in point of fact, a blood trail even Stevie Wonder could follow. It was an unimaginably clear blood trail – no bread-crumbs, more like a river. Herein was quandary number 1: never, ever, trail a wounded hog of unknown size into thick brush at night. They are “dangerous game” for a very good reason, and become far more dangerous when wounded.

West Point, my good friend and, with all probability, the eventual purveyor of my death, lead the charge, stupidity-be-damned; and “once more into the breach” we went.

The blood was plentiful, the tracking easy, deeper and deeper into the brush we went. My .45 was at the ready, West Point was out front, spouting some macho BS, completely unprepared for contact with the beast.

After trailing for about 100 yards, the trail suddenly ended. We could smell him but we couldn’t see him. The plentiful blood suddenly beame one lat drop, then nothing. We knew he was close. West Point said, “He’s probably not more than a few feet away”, but we saw nothing resembling the target.

We looked, we looked some more, we cussed a little, then we called it quits and went our way.

The next morning, on his way out of the field, West Point saw a “buzzard convention” near where Miss Piggy was thought to have fallen. He went in search of my hog – or whatever left the trail.

Not 3 feet from the last blood droplets, there lay a 300+ hog. It had been running full-tilt when it finally buckled and had halfway buried itself under the leaves and dead-fall on impact with Mother Earth. From one side, it looked like a mound of dead branches and leaves; from the back side, it resembled a huge bleeding ass of dead hog.

We found him, in all his piggy glory, with an exit wound of Biblical proportions. To say he bled like a stuck pig would be accurate, but not nearly accurate enough.

As he was 100 yards into very thick brush, we were finished with all hunting, and we already had 500+ pounds of hog in coolers, I elected to leave him for the vultures. I did extract his tusks (for posterity.) I’d include pictures, but suffice to say the scene was bloody – and gory. He bled like a stuck pig.

Just a few hours prior to finding the hog; I shot my first bobcat, so I had that going for me, which was nice.

It’s a long post, I’ll end with this: scent-lock long johns do indeed seal in the smell of one’s flatulence – I know this. Buy accordingly and with confidence.