Back to the Western theme again as we see what happens after a couple of vaqueros try to punk rancher Joe Kidd in jail.
You want some? Next time Joe Kidd asks for a cup of the coffee, just give it to him.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Tag Team
Lagniappe still barks at the neighbor's trespassing cats from the deck, much as he's always done. But these days, the cats have figured out that he's not coming off the deck to get them any more so they just stare at him and give him that cat "F.U." look.
Well we can't have that, so Lagniappe and I have partnered up to teach the cats back a bit of the respect that they seem to have forgotten to show around here.
Now when Lagniappe sees a cat and barks, I pick up the Airsoft pistol that I'd bought when Spud came to visit last and I join him out on the deck. If the cat is still in sight, I take aim and help Lagniappe project some power in the cat's direction. I have to think that it makes Lagniappe feel better and it's good target practice for me. And those cats make perfect reactive targets--if you miss one, they don't register being shot at so they continue to just sit there, but when you hit one, it's clearly obvious as the cat makes a displeased sound and runs like mad back for it's home in the neighbor's yard. The cats are small enough to make the shot challenging, yet the airsoft rounds won't cause them any permanent harm.
So far today, Lagniappe and I have nailed four of them, and that's on top of the three we got last night. He may not be very mobile these days but we still make a pretty good "sniper/spotter" team.
You want a piece of me, cat?
Well we can't have that, so Lagniappe and I have partnered up to teach the cats back a bit of the respect that they seem to have forgotten to show around here.
Now when Lagniappe sees a cat and barks, I pick up the Airsoft pistol that I'd bought when Spud came to visit last and I join him out on the deck. If the cat is still in sight, I take aim and help Lagniappe project some power in the cat's direction. I have to think that it makes Lagniappe feel better and it's good target practice for me. And those cats make perfect reactive targets--if you miss one, they don't register being shot at so they continue to just sit there, but when you hit one, it's clearly obvious as the cat makes a displeased sound and runs like mad back for it's home in the neighbor's yard. The cats are small enough to make the shot challenging, yet the airsoft rounds won't cause them any permanent harm.
So far today, Lagniappe and I have nailed four of them, and that's on top of the three we got last night. He may not be very mobile these days but we still make a pretty good "sniper/spotter" team.
You want a piece of me, cat?
Best campaign commercial of the season!
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Out and about
So because it was a beautiful day--fall colors, nice temperature in the 70's--I took the bike out for another ride. Today's venue: Antietam National Battlefield, Sharpsburg, Maryland.
On September 17, 1862, these hills and fields saw some of the most vicious fighting of the Civil War (or War of Northern Aggression for my Southern readers). In fact, on that day, more Americans were killed or wounded than on any day of that war or any other war before or since. The sun set on over 23,000 casualties on both sides. Many of the nearly 4,500 Union troops killed there that day are buried in a national cemetery in Sharpsburg. The Confederate dead were not allowed there, though--they are buried in cemeteries in Frederick and Hagerstown, MD and across the river in Shepherdstown, WV.
This battle followed right on the heels of the Confederate Army under General Robert E. Lee giving the north a serious shellacking at Harpers Ferry two days prior, resulting in the capture of 12,000 Union troops, a number not surpassed until 1942, when Bataan and Corregidor fell to the Japs during World War Two.
At Antietam, it all started out when Union Forces caught up with Lee's army and swept down across Miller's Cornfield, hitting them there and at the nearby Dunker's Church.
Now the Dunkers--a pacifist church opposed to the war--had the incredible bad luck to have put their church in a spot where it eventually turned out to be the most prominent landmark in the center of the Confederate lines. Predictably, it became a goal for one side and a rallying point for the other, and the fighting was heavy all around it as riflemen exchanged balls and cannon like this one of the 4th Battery, USA (below), raked the landscape with canister and solid shot from about 200 yards away.
During and after the battle, it was used as a field hospital for Confederate troops (translated: a place where the surgeons chopped off arms and legs) and when they finally withdrew, the Union army moved in and used it as an embalming station for their dead.
Mr. Miller's cornfield across the road didn't fare any better, what with thousands of soldiers battling in it and cannons and cavalry horses wiping out his crops as Union General Hooker's army moved through it to smash into Lee's forces repeatedly, being shoved back each time. Numerous monuments to the fallen from various states now adorn the area.
A bit further south, along a sunken road now referred to as "Bloody Lane", the Union troops advanced upon the Confederates who were positioned in the lane. The Yankees had about a two-to-one advantage over the Rebels but the Southerners had an excellent position in the lan , using it as it it were one long rifle pit. And from that lane they poured a murderous fire on the Union troops in the open, just mowing them down. Finally the Union troops sweeping across Mumma's Farm broke the Confederate center along that road and drove them back, but it cost them big. When the smoke cleared, 5,600 men lie dead or wounded and the Confederates were falling back, routed. A determined follow-up by the Union forces could probably have finished things right then and there, but it wasn't done. Overall commander McClellan wasn't exactly known for seizing the moment when opportunity presented itself; he allowed the Confederates to pull back across Antietam Creek where they regrouped on the south side.
Here's Mumma's Farm. Nice place for a battle, eh?
Moving down to the creek, the day saw Union General Ambrose Burnside doing his best to dislodge a force of Georgian troops that were hastily dug in atop the southern creek bank. However his best wasn't very good and Burnside made three incredibly stupid attacks across this bridge, each one forcing his troops to advance in the open against entrenched riflemen and guns despite the fact that this shallow river could have been forded almost anywhere else.
Burnside's forces finally crossed about a mile upstream and outflanked the Georgians, and the Confederates fell back towards Sharpsburg itself with the Union troops in pursuit. But just when it looked as if it was all coming to a close, Confederate General Hill's troops from Harpers Ferry showed up and stopped the Union attackers cold, pushing them right back to the creek again.
At this point, night fell. Lee and his shattered army pulled out and headed south again, back into Virginia. Their attack into Northern territory was over. McClellan, true to his nature, refused to pursue and attack them and once again let a golden opportunity pass. The fight was declared a Union victory--something that was pretty rare in those days, and President Lincoln used it to give voice to his Emancipation Proclamation, which he'd been saving for just such a victory. Granted, this proclamation of his actually freed no one, since it only applied to slaves held in Confederate states over which he had no control. Slaves in the Union slave-holding states--Missouri, Kentucky, Maryland, and Delaware--were excluded so they just had to suck it up.
But anyway...That was a long time ago. Now we're talking about my ride. My ride basically revolved around fall colors, lots of cannon, and hills...lots of hills. This ride was only about eight and a half miles, but the hills killed me. I'd have much rather done twenty miles on the nice, flat C&O Canal towpath than the eight and a half miles on these hills.
Stupid hills. Next time we have a Civil War (Are you listening, Democrats?), can we please have it someplace flat?
And as for cannon, here's a few gratuitous artillery piece shots:
The one in the foreground is a 12lb. howitzer.
One of several sitting to the west of the Sunken Road. The cows in the background apparently don't mind.
More.
This bronze Howitzer sits below Burnside Bridge.
Here's a "gunner's view" of the Southern position.
Regrettably I didn't see the SUV drive into the shot as I was lining it up. If only this gun could fire just one more time...
All in all, it was a great day for a ride. Still, I was about done in by the hills, so I came back to the Lair and Lagniappe and I took a well-deserved afternoon nap.
On September 17, 1862, these hills and fields saw some of the most vicious fighting of the Civil War (or War of Northern Aggression for my Southern readers). In fact, on that day, more Americans were killed or wounded than on any day of that war or any other war before or since. The sun set on over 23,000 casualties on both sides. Many of the nearly 4,500 Union troops killed there that day are buried in a national cemetery in Sharpsburg. The Confederate dead were not allowed there, though--they are buried in cemeteries in Frederick and Hagerstown, MD and across the river in Shepherdstown, WV.
This battle followed right on the heels of the Confederate Army under General Robert E. Lee giving the north a serious shellacking at Harpers Ferry two days prior, resulting in the capture of 12,000 Union troops, a number not surpassed until 1942, when Bataan and Corregidor fell to the Japs during World War Two.
At Antietam, it all started out when Union Forces caught up with Lee's army and swept down across Miller's Cornfield, hitting them there and at the nearby Dunker's Church.
Now the Dunkers--a pacifist church opposed to the war--had the incredible bad luck to have put their church in a spot where it eventually turned out to be the most prominent landmark in the center of the Confederate lines. Predictably, it became a goal for one side and a rallying point for the other, and the fighting was heavy all around it as riflemen exchanged balls and cannon like this one of the 4th Battery, USA (below), raked the landscape with canister and solid shot from about 200 yards away.
During and after the battle, it was used as a field hospital for Confederate troops (translated: a place where the surgeons chopped off arms and legs) and when they finally withdrew, the Union army moved in and used it as an embalming station for their dead.
Mr. Miller's cornfield across the road didn't fare any better, what with thousands of soldiers battling in it and cannons and cavalry horses wiping out his crops as Union General Hooker's army moved through it to smash into Lee's forces repeatedly, being shoved back each time. Numerous monuments to the fallen from various states now adorn the area.
A bit further south, along a sunken road now referred to as "Bloody Lane", the Union troops advanced upon the Confederates who were positioned in the lane. The Yankees had about a two-to-one advantage over the Rebels but the Southerners had an excellent position in the lan , using it as it it were one long rifle pit. And from that lane they poured a murderous fire on the Union troops in the open, just mowing them down. Finally the Union troops sweeping across Mumma's Farm broke the Confederate center along that road and drove them back, but it cost them big. When the smoke cleared, 5,600 men lie dead or wounded and the Confederates were falling back, routed. A determined follow-up by the Union forces could probably have finished things right then and there, but it wasn't done. Overall commander McClellan wasn't exactly known for seizing the moment when opportunity presented itself; he allowed the Confederates to pull back across Antietam Creek where they regrouped on the south side.
Here's Mumma's Farm. Nice place for a battle, eh?
Moving down to the creek, the day saw Union General Ambrose Burnside doing his best to dislodge a force of Georgian troops that were hastily dug in atop the southern creek bank. However his best wasn't very good and Burnside made three incredibly stupid attacks across this bridge, each one forcing his troops to advance in the open against entrenched riflemen and guns despite the fact that this shallow river could have been forded almost anywhere else. 
Burnside's forces finally crossed about a mile upstream and outflanked the Georgians, and the Confederates fell back towards Sharpsburg itself with the Union troops in pursuit. But just when it looked as if it was all coming to a close, Confederate General Hill's troops from Harpers Ferry showed up and stopped the Union attackers cold, pushing them right back to the creek again.At this point, night fell. Lee and his shattered army pulled out and headed south again, back into Virginia. Their attack into Northern territory was over. McClellan, true to his nature, refused to pursue and attack them and once again let a golden opportunity pass. The fight was declared a Union victory--something that was pretty rare in those days, and President Lincoln used it to give voice to his Emancipation Proclamation, which he'd been saving for just such a victory. Granted, this proclamation of his actually freed no one, since it only applied to slaves held in Confederate states over which he had no control. Slaves in the Union slave-holding states--Missouri, Kentucky, Maryland, and Delaware--were excluded so they just had to suck it up.
But anyway...That was a long time ago. Now we're talking about my ride. My ride basically revolved around fall colors, lots of cannon, and hills...lots of hills. This ride was only about eight and a half miles, but the hills killed me. I'd have much rather done twenty miles on the nice, flat C&O Canal towpath than the eight and a half miles on these hills.
Stupid hills. Next time we have a Civil War (Are you listening, Democrats?), can we please have it someplace flat? And as for cannon, here's a few gratuitous artillery piece shots:
The one in the foreground is a 12lb. howitzer.One of several sitting to the west of the Sunken Road. The cows in the background apparently don't mind.
More.
This bronze Howitzer sits below Burnside Bridge.
Here's a "gunner's view" of the Southern position.
Regrettably I didn't see the SUV drive into the shot as I was lining it up. If only this gun could fire just one more time...All in all, it was a great day for a ride. Still, I was about done in by the hills, so I came back to the Lair and Lagniappe and I took a well-deserved afternoon nap.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Oh yes I did.
I was looking at a motorcycle today at work. It was a Kawasaki Vulcan.
Four and a half years ago, I took another Kawasaki Vulcan out for a ride, and that ride ended with the Vulcan scattered all over the roadway and my foot missing, courtesy of a car driven a woman who never should have been given a license to drive so much as a little red wagon.
As I looked at this Vulcan, someone asked me if I'd ever ridden one before. They didn't know my story. I replied, that yes, I had ridden one before...one much like this one, in fact.
Actually I'd ridden numerous motorcycles over the years, including one that I rode clear across the country and back. I'd just had one ride on a Kawasaki Vulcan, however...my last ride on August 3rd, 2006.
"Want to take it for a hop?" Suddenly the keys were in my hand and I was offered a helmet.
"Yeah," I replied. "Maybe just a little one."
I've been wanting to get back on a bike since I woke up in the hospital. I've always liked riding and I've sworn repeatedly that that day in August of '06 was NOT going to be my last ride. I hadn't managed to get my hands on a bike since then though, until suddenly I was offered this one.
But why did it have to be another Kawasaki Vulcan, of all bikes? Sure, this one was a bit newer than that last one, but still...
I got on and hit the starter. The engine caught and I started revving it up, getting a feel for it again. I'd worried about my prosthetic leg not being able to shift the gears up, but I managed to get the toe of my plastic foot under the selector and knocked it up into second. Hell, I can do this. I kicked it back down into first, took a breath, and let out the clutch as I throttled up. Across the parking lot and down the drive I went. I tried to shift up for real, and it WORKED! I hit the small road that we were off of and shifted up to third. I was a bit unsteady at first, but it came back quick...and it felt GREAT! I turned around at the end of the road and headed back, then I proceeded to weave in and around the various parked cars in the lot to try to get the feel of it again. I did this for a few minutes, and then...aw, hell--I'm outta here. Back onto the road I went and away. I just had to RIDE again.
I rode down the road and ran the bike up through the gears, hitting 80 or so, then backed it back down to the 25mph speed limit again. I saw another car ahead of me driven by someone I worked with and raced to catch up. I caught up at a light, pulled up beside him, blew the horn and smiled. For a second, there was no recognition, and then it hit him that it was ME on the bike...and he knew my story.
"What are you DOING?"
"I'm riding again, man! Wyatt and Billy, look out!" (<--Easy Rider reference, for you Generation X kids.) Then the light changed, and I was off.
I rode all around town. I merged into highway traffic and back out. I stopped at traffic lights surrounded by cars, I rode across a vacant lot and down a few steps...I was just having FUN!
My cell phone finally rang about half an hour later.
"Hey, are you ok? Are you bringing the bike back?"
"No, man. I'm not. I just gotta ride for a bit if you don't mind." By this time, the guy who'd offered me the keys had been filled in by others around him. ("You gave him the keys to WHAT?! Are you crazy? Do you not know what happened to him on one of those?")
"No rush. Just take your time with it," he said.
I rode for another half hour, finally heading back to the office when the rain started to fall. I was grinning like a fool when I gave the keys back. I'm still grinning.
I am SO getting me another bike. It won't be a Vulcan, but I'm getting something. And I feel the need for another cross-country trip in the near future.
Four and a half years ago, I took another Kawasaki Vulcan out for a ride, and that ride ended with the Vulcan scattered all over the roadway and my foot missing, courtesy of a car driven a woman who never should have been given a license to drive so much as a little red wagon.
As I looked at this Vulcan, someone asked me if I'd ever ridden one before. They didn't know my story. I replied, that yes, I had ridden one before...one much like this one, in fact.
Actually I'd ridden numerous motorcycles over the years, including one that I rode clear across the country and back. I'd just had one ride on a Kawasaki Vulcan, however...my last ride on August 3rd, 2006.
"Want to take it for a hop?" Suddenly the keys were in my hand and I was offered a helmet.
"Yeah," I replied. "Maybe just a little one."
I've been wanting to get back on a bike since I woke up in the hospital. I've always liked riding and I've sworn repeatedly that that day in August of '06 was NOT going to be my last ride. I hadn't managed to get my hands on a bike since then though, until suddenly I was offered this one.
But why did it have to be another Kawasaki Vulcan, of all bikes? Sure, this one was a bit newer than that last one, but still...
I got on and hit the starter. The engine caught and I started revving it up, getting a feel for it again. I'd worried about my prosthetic leg not being able to shift the gears up, but I managed to get the toe of my plastic foot under the selector and knocked it up into second. Hell, I can do this. I kicked it back down into first, took a breath, and let out the clutch as I throttled up. Across the parking lot and down the drive I went. I tried to shift up for real, and it WORKED! I hit the small road that we were off of and shifted up to third. I was a bit unsteady at first, but it came back quick...and it felt GREAT! I turned around at the end of the road and headed back, then I proceeded to weave in and around the various parked cars in the lot to try to get the feel of it again. I did this for a few minutes, and then...aw, hell--I'm outta here. Back onto the road I went and away. I just had to RIDE again.
I rode down the road and ran the bike up through the gears, hitting 80 or so, then backed it back down to the 25mph speed limit again. I saw another car ahead of me driven by someone I worked with and raced to catch up. I caught up at a light, pulled up beside him, blew the horn and smiled. For a second, there was no recognition, and then it hit him that it was ME on the bike...and he knew my story.
"What are you DOING?"
"I'm riding again, man! Wyatt and Billy, look out!" (<--Easy Rider reference, for you Generation X kids.) Then the light changed, and I was off.
I rode all around town. I merged into highway traffic and back out. I stopped at traffic lights surrounded by cars, I rode across a vacant lot and down a few steps...I was just having FUN!
My cell phone finally rang about half an hour later.
"Hey, are you ok? Are you bringing the bike back?"
"No, man. I'm not. I just gotta ride for a bit if you don't mind." By this time, the guy who'd offered me the keys had been filled in by others around him. ("You gave him the keys to WHAT?! Are you crazy? Do you not know what happened to him on one of those?")
"No rush. Just take your time with it," he said.
I rode for another half hour, finally heading back to the office when the rain started to fall. I was grinning like a fool when I gave the keys back. I'm still grinning.
I am SO getting me another bike. It won't be a Vulcan, but I'm getting something. And I feel the need for another cross-country trip in the near future.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Plumbing repairs
Oh, the joys of home ownership.
Am I the only one who requires three trips to the hardware store for almost every job?
Trip #1: Get all the parts needed for the planned repair job.
Trip #2: Return some of those parts and get the correct parts.
Trip #3: Back to the store to get a vital part that I didn't think I'd need to replace when I started the job.
This project was no exception. Three trips required. This time is was plumbing that required my attention.
The mission: Stopping a leak in the toilet in the guest bathroom.
The plan: Rebuild the whole damned thing.
Complicating factors:
--Old plumbing that it was connected to that no longer wants to connect to the new stuff.
--Tight working quarters that restrict visibility and access to fittings.
--Hand hard-to-read instructions on everything because the building industry now insists on printing instructions in both American and Illegal so the font is microscopic.
Combined Aggravation Factor: 3.5 on a scale of 1 to 5.
End result: The neighbors' kids learned a few new words and phrases and Lagniappe is still hiding somewhere, but the job is now complete. Mission accomplished.
And at least this time, Lagniappe didn't "help".
Am I the only one who requires three trips to the hardware store for almost every job?
Trip #1: Get all the parts needed for the planned repair job.
Trip #2: Return some of those parts and get the correct parts.
Trip #3: Back to the store to get a vital part that I didn't think I'd need to replace when I started the job.
This project was no exception. Three trips required. This time is was plumbing that required my attention.
The mission: Stopping a leak in the toilet in the guest bathroom.
The plan: Rebuild the whole damned thing.
Complicating factors:
--Old plumbing that it was connected to that no longer wants to connect to the new stuff.
--Tight working quarters that restrict visibility and access to fittings.
--Hand hard-to-read instructions on everything because the building industry now insists on printing instructions in both American and Illegal so the font is microscopic.
Combined Aggravation Factor: 3.5 on a scale of 1 to 5.
End result: The neighbors' kids learned a few new words and phrases and Lagniappe is still hiding somewhere, but the job is now complete. Mission accomplished.
And at least this time, Lagniappe didn't "help".
Saturday Man Movie
See what happens when old assassin Charles Bronson teaches young, ambitious assassin Jan Michael Vincent too much in 1972's "The Mechanic"?Moral of the story: Never trust your understudy.
Ah, Lagniappe
You may have noticed that I don't write much about Lagniappe these days. It's mostly because since he can barely walk, we don't do much aside from sitting on the deck or taking naps on the bed. (Yes, he's allowed back up on my bed. Why not? He just wants to be close to me and I can't deny him that. Sadly, he even needs help getting up there now.)
Sometimes though, he still manages to make me laugh. Like yesterday, when he found an empty peanut butter jar that I'd tossed at the recycling box but missed. What's the rule? Oh yeah. "In the box, not his, on the floor, his." He grabbed the large plastic jar and was lying on the living room floor trying to get every last morsel of the peanut butter out of it when lo and behold, he managed to get his muzzle stuck in the jar. My only regret was that I couldn't get to a camera in time, but I'd undoubtedly have messed the shot up anyway, I was laughing so hard.
So I helped the silly dog get the jar off his nose (because what else are friends for?) and naturally he looked at me like it was somehow my fault.
He's still the warrior, though. Last night, the auto glass repair guy came over, and Lagniappe barked at him so territorially that he backed down the driveway again and called me on his cell phone to ask me if the dog bites?
"Well not until you get up here and get out of the van," I told him. I had to take him back in the house before the guy would come back, and even then he lay by the window and watched the guy like a hawk the whole time he was here.
Still the protector, at least in his own mind. Watch 'em, pal. I got your back if you need me. When the next bad guy comes around, we'll take him together.
Sometimes though, he still manages to make me laugh. Like yesterday, when he found an empty peanut butter jar that I'd tossed at the recycling box but missed. What's the rule? Oh yeah. "In the box, not his, on the floor, his." He grabbed the large plastic jar and was lying on the living room floor trying to get every last morsel of the peanut butter out of it when lo and behold, he managed to get his muzzle stuck in the jar. My only regret was that I couldn't get to a camera in time, but I'd undoubtedly have messed the shot up anyway, I was laughing so hard.
So I helped the silly dog get the jar off his nose (because what else are friends for?) and naturally he looked at me like it was somehow my fault.
He's still the warrior, though. Last night, the auto glass repair guy came over, and Lagniappe barked at him so territorially that he backed down the driveway again and called me on his cell phone to ask me if the dog bites?
"Well not until you get up here and get out of the van," I told him. I had to take him back in the house before the guy would come back, and even then he lay by the window and watched the guy like a hawk the whole time he was here.
Still the protector, at least in his own mind. Watch 'em, pal. I got your back if you need me. When the next bad guy comes around, we'll take him together.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Just doing jobs that Americans won't do.
Yep. Illegal aliens in our country are now doing something that few Americans seem to want to do: campaigning for Washington Senator Patty Murray.
Proving how out of touch she is with Americans, most of whom want the illegals sent home, Murray's campaign actually puts them to work on her re-election effort, trying to convince other minorities--those who are lawfully here and actually entitled to vote--to vote for her.
Sorry, but I have a real problem with people who aren't even supposed to be here now trying to directly steer our country's political system by working for politicians who are perceived to be ready and willing to offer Amnesty bills in return. That to me is the ultimate "foreign interest" seeking to influence a legislator.
So where are all of the pundits and shills who screamed for a week over California Gubernatorial candidate Meg Whitman's having once employed a maid who later turned out to be illegal despite having offered fraudulent documents and swearing that she was, in fact, legally here?
Again, since this time it's a Democrat doing the wrong thing, I doubt that we'll be hearing very much about it at all. The media has their own agenda--protecting the Democrat majority--and reporting news like this doesn't advance that so they'll self-censor and work to deny America the facts.
Note to you media hacks...we're seeing this and we're not going to forget. Your credibility doesn't automatically come back post-election.
Oh, and someone please tell the illegal not to refer to the American political system as "ours". That's like a catching a burglar in your house and having him say that he's just taking "our" flat-screen TV out to be cleaned.
Time for ICE to raid Patty Murray's office.
Proving how out of touch she is with Americans, most of whom want the illegals sent home, Murray's campaign actually puts them to work on her re-election effort, trying to convince other minorities--those who are lawfully here and actually entitled to vote--to vote for her.
SEATTLE -- When Maria Gianni is knocking on voters' doors, she's not bashful about telling people she is in the country illegally. She knows it's a risk to advertise to strangers that she's here illegally -- but one worth taking in what she sees as a crucial election.
The 42-year-old is one of dozens of volunteers -- many of them illegal immigrants -- canvassing neighborhoods in the Seattle area trying to get naturalized citizens to cast a ballot for candidates like Democratic Sen. Patty Murray, who is in a neck-to-neck race with Republican Dino Rossi.
Pramila Jayapal, head of OneAmerica Votes, says the campaign is about empowering immigrants who may not feel like they can contribute to a campaign because they can't vote.
"Immigrants really do matter," Jayapal said. "If we can't vote ourselves, we're gonna knock on doors, or get family members to vote."
Seattle is home to a wide array of immigrant communities, from Latinos to east Africans and Asians.
Congress declined this year to consider overhauling the country's immigration law
, much to the chagrin of immigrant advocates who had expected Democrats to do so by now.
Still, OneAmerica Votes launched one of the largest get-out-the-vote campaigns in the state on behalf of Democratic candidates. The organization is an offshoot of OneAmerica, one of the state's largest and the most influential immigrant-rights advocacy group.
Through home visits, phone banks and mailings the organization is aiming to reach about 40,000 registered voters in the Seattle area in an attempt to help Democrats gain ground in key races. Volunteers include other types of people who can't vote, such as legal permanent residents.
About 150 volunteers rolled out in nine cities across Washington this past week, knocking on 3,000 doors.
In Bellevue, a city of nearly 123,000 east of Seattle, Gianni knocked on 25 doors and spoke to 15 people, she said.
One man, a naturalized citizen from the Philippines, said he knew what she was going through after she shared she was in the country illegally.
"There's always a risk," Gianni said in Spanish about her legal status. "But if there's a change, I would feel like I contributed, even in a small part, to a change we all need."
Gianni arrived in the United States on a visa 13 years ago looking for work and stayed. For a while her only son lived here, but has since moved back to Mexico.
"In order for there to be a change to our broken immigration system," she said, "I believe one has to fight."
Sorry, but I have a real problem with people who aren't even supposed to be here now trying to directly steer our country's political system by working for politicians who are perceived to be ready and willing to offer Amnesty bills in return. That to me is the ultimate "foreign interest" seeking to influence a legislator.
So where are all of the pundits and shills who screamed for a week over California Gubernatorial candidate Meg Whitman's having once employed a maid who later turned out to be illegal despite having offered fraudulent documents and swearing that she was, in fact, legally here?
Again, since this time it's a Democrat doing the wrong thing, I doubt that we'll be hearing very much about it at all. The media has their own agenda--protecting the Democrat majority--and reporting news like this doesn't advance that so they'll self-censor and work to deny America the facts.
Note to you media hacks...we're seeing this and we're not going to forget. Your credibility doesn't automatically come back post-election.
Oh, and someone please tell the illegal not to refer to the American political system as "ours". That's like a catching a burglar in your house and having him say that he's just taking "our" flat-screen TV out to be cleaned.
Time for ICE to raid Patty Murray's office.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Have you heard? Sarah Palin's brother arrested on drug charges!!!
I just heard. I expect that it will be all over tonight's news, and it'll headline most of tomorrow's papers, including the New York Times and Washington Post. Whoopi and her idiot pal Joy will do a whole show laughing about it, as will Stephen Colbert and all the late-night talk-show hosts. In fact, we'll almost certainly be hearing about it right up until election day.
Oh, wait--I just heard that it's Sharon Angle's brother. No difference though--it'll be all over the news forever in about fifteen minutes. How can that Tea Party hero even hold her head up much less stay in the race against Harry Reid now? This story will be everyplace tomorrow!
Wait...Claire McCaskill's brother? Oh, no! She's not a Republican or a conservative candidate trying to unseat a liberal; she's a Democrat in good standing with her party.
Never mind. Nothing to see here, people. Cue the crickets, please. Forget you ever heard this like everyone else will.
Oh, wait--I just heard that it's Sharon Angle's brother. No difference though--it'll be all over the news forever in about fifteen minutes. How can that Tea Party hero even hold her head up much less stay in the race against Harry Reid now? This story will be everyplace tomorrow!
COLUMBIA, Mo. | The brother of U.S. Sen. Claire McCaskill faces a felony drug charge stemming from a January incident near a Columbia nightclub he co-owns. Court documents show 46-year-old Will McCaskill was found unconscious Jan. 5 outside a restaurant near Generic, his nightclub. He was taken to a hospital with a cut above his eye and a large bruise. Police said they found a paper with a substance that later tested positive for cocaine. McCaskill was charged in August with drug possession. He was arrested Wednesday night in his hometown of Holts Summit and released on $4,500 bond.
Wait...Claire McCaskill's brother? Oh, no! She's not a Republican or a conservative candidate trying to unseat a liberal; she's a Democrat in good standing with her party.
Never mind. Nothing to see here, people. Cue the crickets, please. Forget you ever heard this like everyone else will.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
What's in the water in Detroit?
Seriously, what's up in that third-world city these days? Recently three Democrats who were indicted for bribery and corruption-related offenses separately pled guilty (and got pretty light sentences, IMHO) and as soon as they were sentenced, they filed appeals seeing to rescind their guilty pleas.
First we have Monica Conyers, wife of Congressman John Conyers. She was accused of peddling both her own influence as Chair of the Detroit City Council and taking money to deliver his vote on at least one issue. She pled guilty to a single count and got 37 months in prison. (I note for the record that he wasn't investigated, nor did he show any real support for her during or after her trial.) The loudmouth known even among Democrats as "Monica Monkey" due to her antics and public conduct is now claiming that she only pled guilty to bribery because she was unable to resist pressure from her lawyer, the government and the news media, apparently forgetting that she is herself a lawyer, something that she used to brag about when on the city council.
Monica's former Chief of Staff, Sam Riddle, also pled guilty to similar bribery charges and now he too is trying to appeal and get his thirty-seven month sentence lifted, even though he's also doing two years consecutively for pointing a shotgun at his then-shack-up, former Democratic State Representative Mary Waters.
Waters, by the way, is the third side of this warped triangle. She also pled guilty to accepting a bribe (and not reporting the income) and got a sentence of probation. But not to be outdone by her lover/attacker and his former boss, she's appealing her plea agreement, too. (Apparently she feels that it might hurt her in her current race for a State Senate seat.)
Naturally the prosecutors are contesting these attempts to take back the guilty pleas, and it's doubtful that the judges will allow the pleas which were knowingly and freely entered into to be withdrawn just because the convicted parties now suspect that they could beat the raps or just want better offers. Still, you hardly have to wonder why very few people are willing to take a politician's word on anything when we are treated to the spectacle of not one but three of them all admitting that they committed crimes and then trying to go back on their word. I mean, if you can't trust a politician to be truthful about his or her criminal activity under oath in open court in cases where the US Attorneys have them dead to rights (otherwise they wouldn't have pled out), when exactly can you take one at their word?
First we have Monica Conyers, wife of Congressman John Conyers. She was accused of peddling both her own influence as Chair of the Detroit City Council and taking money to deliver his vote on at least one issue. She pled guilty to a single count and got 37 months in prison. (I note for the record that he wasn't investigated, nor did he show any real support for her during or after her trial.) The loudmouth known even among Democrats as "Monica Monkey" due to her antics and public conduct is now claiming that she only pled guilty to bribery because she was unable to resist pressure from her lawyer, the government and the news media, apparently forgetting that she is herself a lawyer, something that she used to brag about when on the city council.
Monica's former Chief of Staff, Sam Riddle, also pled guilty to similar bribery charges and now he too is trying to appeal and get his thirty-seven month sentence lifted, even though he's also doing two years consecutively for pointing a shotgun at his then-shack-up, former Democratic State Representative Mary Waters.
Waters, by the way, is the third side of this warped triangle. She also pled guilty to accepting a bribe (and not reporting the income) and got a sentence of probation. But not to be outdone by her lover/attacker and his former boss, she's appealing her plea agreement, too. (Apparently she feels that it might hurt her in her current race for a State Senate seat.)
Naturally the prosecutors are contesting these attempts to take back the guilty pleas, and it's doubtful that the judges will allow the pleas which were knowingly and freely entered into to be withdrawn just because the convicted parties now suspect that they could beat the raps or just want better offers. Still, you hardly have to wonder why very few people are willing to take a politician's word on anything when we are treated to the spectacle of not one but three of them all admitting that they committed crimes and then trying to go back on their word. I mean, if you can't trust a politician to be truthful about his or her criminal activity under oath in open court in cases where the US Attorneys have them dead to rights (otherwise they wouldn't have pled out), when exactly can you take one at their word?
Monday, October 18, 2010
Allow me to correct Harry Reid
So Harry Reid has now likened Barack Obama to the trapped Chilean miners.
"It was like the Chilean miners, but he, being the man he is, rolled up his sleeves and said 'I am going to get us out of this hole,'" Sen. Harry Reid (D-NV) said in Las Vegas on Sunday.
OK, let's take a look at that. Better yet, let's compare the Chilean miner emergency with, oh...barack's handling of the BP oil spill.
The Chileans immediately realized that they had a problem and admitted it.
Obama? He didn't even mention the oil spill for eight days after the explosion.
The Chileans responded with everything that they had, and they welcomed help from any company or country willing to provide it.
Obama and his team lolly-gagged for days, and then they spent the next few weeks rejecting offers of assistance from other nations and even from US companies like Packgen that were non-union shops.
The Chileans yielded to outside experts and let the most capable professionals take charge.
Obama insisted on running the whole BP show from the White House. "We don't need no steenking experts. Obama walks on water so he can surely handle this...right after golf."
And in the end, due to the combined effort of numerous public and private-sector profesionals working together, the Chilean miners were rescued after two months, two months ahead of schedule.
Obama's oil spill, on the other hand, took five months to cap (and it's still not cleaned up) and his dilly-dallying, refusal to accept any help or surrender control, and his outright bungling are the major reasons. Had he moved quicker and accepted the offered help from the beginning, most experts now say that most of the oil that now contaminates our seafloor and shorelines beneath the sand could probably have been prevented from reaching land or escaping from the well in the first place.
So sorry, harry. Obama's not like the Chileans. If you want to campare him to a mine-safety outfit, you might want to check out the Chinese model. Their safety record seems much more reflective of Obama's actual level of competence.
"It was like the Chilean miners, but he, being the man he is, rolled up his sleeves and said 'I am going to get us out of this hole,'" Sen. Harry Reid (D-NV) said in Las Vegas on Sunday.
OK, let's take a look at that. Better yet, let's compare the Chilean miner emergency with, oh...barack's handling of the BP oil spill.
The Chileans immediately realized that they had a problem and admitted it.
Obama? He didn't even mention the oil spill for eight days after the explosion.
The Chileans responded with everything that they had, and they welcomed help from any company or country willing to provide it.
Obama and his team lolly-gagged for days, and then they spent the next few weeks rejecting offers of assistance from other nations and even from US companies like Packgen that were non-union shops.
The Chileans yielded to outside experts and let the most capable professionals take charge.
Obama insisted on running the whole BP show from the White House. "We don't need no steenking experts. Obama walks on water so he can surely handle this...right after golf."
And in the end, due to the combined effort of numerous public and private-sector profesionals working together, the Chilean miners were rescued after two months, two months ahead of schedule.
Obama's oil spill, on the other hand, took five months to cap (and it's still not cleaned up) and his dilly-dallying, refusal to accept any help or surrender control, and his outright bungling are the major reasons. Had he moved quicker and accepted the offered help from the beginning, most experts now say that most of the oil that now contaminates our seafloor and shorelines beneath the sand could probably have been prevented from reaching land or escaping from the well in the first place.
So sorry, harry. Obama's not like the Chileans. If you want to campare him to a mine-safety outfit, you might want to check out the Chinese model. Their safety record seems much more reflective of Obama's actual level of competence.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Choking one's own foot.
Every once in a while, we have the opportunity to either say something totally stupid (as I was once alleged to have done here) or witness someone else stepping on their own Johnson, as this clerk at a local 7-11 store did today when I was in getting coffee and more ice cream for Lagniappe.
I shop there more days than I don't, and this clerk has always been a smart-ass with the customers, almost to the point of being a punk. He means well, and I'm sure that he's a nice kid, but he's got no filter.
As I'm getting my coffee, an attractive young lady walks into the store in a little black dress, complete with stockings and high heels. Now mind you, it's 10AM or thereabouts. Junior behind the counter sees her, and he whistles loudly, then says: "Damn, girl! Look at you doing the walk of shame! Who was last night's lucky fella?"
She stops and her mouth drops open. Then with the whole store looking on, she responds:
"I'm going to a funeral, you asshole!"
Then she turned and stormed out, leaving him there looking like West Virginia's biggest loser. And it sure was awful quiet in that store for the next few minutes.
I'm still shaking my head. That's probably gonna leave a mark on his next employee review in the "customer service" box.
I shop there more days than I don't, and this clerk has always been a smart-ass with the customers, almost to the point of being a punk. He means well, and I'm sure that he's a nice kid, but he's got no filter.
As I'm getting my coffee, an attractive young lady walks into the store in a little black dress, complete with stockings and high heels. Now mind you, it's 10AM or thereabouts. Junior behind the counter sees her, and he whistles loudly, then says: "Damn, girl! Look at you doing the walk of shame! Who was last night's lucky fella?"
She stops and her mouth drops open. Then with the whole store looking on, she responds:
"I'm going to a funeral, you asshole!"
Then she turned and stormed out, leaving him there looking like West Virginia's biggest loser. And it sure was awful quiet in that store for the next few minutes.
I'm still shaking my head. That's probably gonna leave a mark on his next employee review in the "customer service" box.
Saturday Man Movie
Since the western clips are getting hard to find, Lagniappe and I will be diversifying into general movies about times and instances when men prevailed in battle because they stood tall like men...In other words, the pre-liberal days.
In the movie Zulu, based on the battle of Roarke's Drift, Stanley Baker plays Lt. John Chard, Royal Engineers. He assumes command over the troops of Lt. Bromhead, played by a young Michael Caine, just before their station comes under attack by hordes of Zulu warriors. it's modeled on the very real battle of January 23rd, 1879, where 140 men stood against thousands of native warriors who had just wiped out over 1300 British troops at Isandlwana the day before.
In the movie Zulu, based on the battle of Roarke's Drift, Stanley Baker plays Lt. John Chard, Royal Engineers. He assumes command over the troops of Lt. Bromhead, played by a young Michael Caine, just before their station comes under attack by hordes of Zulu warriors. it's modeled on the very real battle of January 23rd, 1879, where 140 men stood against thousands of native warriors who had just wiped out over 1300 British troops at Isandlwana the day before.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Happy Dog Recipe
1. Take 1 carton Breyers ice cream (preferably vanilla)
2. Add one German Shepherd.
3. Stand clear, lest ye be knocked aside.
2. Add one German Shepherd.
3. Stand clear, lest ye be knocked aside.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Can dogs count?
Anyone who thinks that dogs can't count should try taking three cookies out of the dog treat box in front of the dog and then only giving him two.
Trust me--Lagniappe counts and counts well.
Trust me--Lagniappe counts and counts well.
Saturday, October 09, 2010
M1 Fun in the sun
So yesterday was range day. On a whim, I grabbed an M1 Garand off the rack and broke a chunk of belted ammo off of what remains of the linked .30-06 that I still have around. The rifle that I took has a lot of history with me in that, back when I shot Hi-Power regularly, it gave me a silver medal in the National Matches at Camp Perry. (Read it's story here.)
Unfortunately, I don't shoot Hi-Power much any more because there's only one range anywhere around here that offers matches and even it's a long ways away. So I haven't shot that M1 in a long time. In fact, it's been so long that I forgot it's particular unique quirk--an unusually low-set zero.
Typically, an M1 with service ammo will be dead on at 100M at around 8 clicks up from parked (bottomed out) on the rear sight. another 2 clicks up should have it spang on at 200M. But this particular rifle's 100M zero is actually in the parked position--as low as the sight aperture will go. Naturally, I forgot this when I grabbed that rifle, and of course I didn't take it's log book with me or even read through it--after all, I was just going out for some casual target shooting.
So I got out to the range, set up my scope, hung a 200M target, and settled down behind my sandbags to shoot. It was a beautiful day, and there's just something about the feel of a Garand's stock in your shoulder and the smooth creep of the two-stage trigger...So nice.
As I set up, I checked the rifle: Bore unobstructed, all components present and tight, sling adjusted, sights...WTF? My rear sight was almost parked. WHO THE HELL WAS MESSING WITH THIS RIFLE?!
Of course I'd forgotten that this was a normal setting for THIS rifle; I figured that someone had twisted the knob and messed my zero up. So I sighed, ran the sight back up to ten clicks, and inserted a clip. I fired on the 200M target, expecting to see impacts somewhere on the paper plate I was using for a center bull, but the first round struck well high and blew the number marker right off the top of the target stand. Little wood pieces flew into the air in all directions, announcing my faux pas to anyone looking.
But hey--at least the windage was right--that was a dead-center hit exactly above the center of the plate. Gotta take some pride away.
It was at that time that it dawned on me what rifle I had. No one had "messed with" the sight setting--it had been set exactly where it was supposed to have been set.
Once the sights were readjusted properly--and an apology made to the range keeper--the rest of the session was unremarkable. The old M1 still holds the plate without a miss at 200M, and if the group size is a bit larger than it used to be, well that's me and my lack of practice, not the rifle.
Next time, though, just to prevent any more surprises, I WILL grab the logbook when I take one of my old service rifles out.
Unfortunately, I don't shoot Hi-Power much any more because there's only one range anywhere around here that offers matches and even it's a long ways away. So I haven't shot that M1 in a long time. In fact, it's been so long that I forgot it's particular unique quirk--an unusually low-set zero.
Typically, an M1 with service ammo will be dead on at 100M at around 8 clicks up from parked (bottomed out) on the rear sight. another 2 clicks up should have it spang on at 200M. But this particular rifle's 100M zero is actually in the parked position--as low as the sight aperture will go. Naturally, I forgot this when I grabbed that rifle, and of course I didn't take it's log book with me or even read through it--after all, I was just going out for some casual target shooting.
So I got out to the range, set up my scope, hung a 200M target, and settled down behind my sandbags to shoot. It was a beautiful day, and there's just something about the feel of a Garand's stock in your shoulder and the smooth creep of the two-stage trigger...So nice.
As I set up, I checked the rifle: Bore unobstructed, all components present and tight, sling adjusted, sights...WTF? My rear sight was almost parked. WHO THE HELL WAS MESSING WITH THIS RIFLE?!
Of course I'd forgotten that this was a normal setting for THIS rifle; I figured that someone had twisted the knob and messed my zero up. So I sighed, ran the sight back up to ten clicks, and inserted a clip. I fired on the 200M target, expecting to see impacts somewhere on the paper plate I was using for a center bull, but the first round struck well high and blew the number marker right off the top of the target stand. Little wood pieces flew into the air in all directions, announcing my faux pas to anyone looking.
But hey--at least the windage was right--that was a dead-center hit exactly above the center of the plate. Gotta take some pride away.
It was at that time that it dawned on me what rifle I had. No one had "messed with" the sight setting--it had been set exactly where it was supposed to have been set.
Once the sights were readjusted properly--and an apology made to the range keeper--the rest of the session was unremarkable. The old M1 still holds the plate without a miss at 200M, and if the group size is a bit larger than it used to be, well that's me and my lack of practice, not the rifle.
Next time, though, just to prevent any more surprises, I WILL grab the logbook when I take one of my old service rifles out.
Saturday Western
Not sure who's the baddest, Clint Eastwood or Lee Van Cleef, so I'll leave it up to you to decide.
One thing's for certain--when they wind up grudgingly working together in For a Few Dollars More, it gets hot in a way that modern-day wanna-be's like George Clooney could never manage.
One thing's for certain--when they wind up grudgingly working together in For a Few Dollars More, it gets hot in a way that modern-day wanna-be's like George Clooney could never manage.
Monday, October 04, 2010
Gotten angry yet today? If not, this ought to do it.
Compassion for the poor is one thing, but to see the serious problems with our government-run welfare system, you need look no farther than California's, where a recent audit has revealed that more than $69 million in California welfare money, meant to help the needy pay their rent and clothe their children, has been spent or withdrawn outside the state in recent years, including millions in Las Vegas, hundreds of thousands in Hawaii and thousands on cruise ships sailing from Miami.
Wrong.
This is why I'd like to see us go back to the old Pre-FDR/LBJ days when charity assistance was given out by private charities and churches instead of the government. At least then, there was usually some oversight, and cheaters could be--and were--turned away without recourse. But we can't have the big government that the Democrats want without a large core of dependent voters, and nothing creates such a pool of reliable supporters like a government-run free-cheese store...especially one that lets the "poor" and "downtrodden" take cruises and trips to Hawaii on our money.
California needs to hire a lot more investigators, even if they have to cut benefits to pay for them. And those gold-plated "aid" cards need to be reprogrammed to insure that they are only used by someone showing a California state ID card in the name of the person that it was issued to and even then they should not work outside of the state.
State-issued aid cards have been used at hotels, shops, restaurants, ATMs and other places in 49 other states, the U.S. Virgin Islands and Guam, according to data obtained by The Times from the California Department of Social Services. Las Vegas drew $11.8 million of the cash benefits, far more than any other destination. The money was accessed from January 2007 through May 2010.And this of course causes me to ask: "Why the hell not?" Why aren't these so-called "needy" people called into their local welfare office and made to account for the spending, and why isn't their aid turned off until they do so? And why aren't their cards set up to only allow purchase of staple food items at grocery stores?
Welfare recipients must prove they can't afford life's necessities without government aid: A single parent with two children generally must earn less than $14,436 a year to qualify for the cash assistance and becomes ineligible once his or her income exceeds about $20,000, said Lizelda Lopez, spokeswoman for the Department of Social Services.
Round-trip flights from Los Angeles to Honolulu on Orbitz.com Sunday started at $419 — more than 80% of the average monthly cash benefit for a single parent of two on CalWorks, the state's main aid program.
"How they can go somewhere like Hawaii and be legit on aid … they can't," said Robert Hollenbeck, a fraud investigator for the Fresno County district attorney's office. "This is money for basic subsistence needs."
The $387,908 accessed in Hawaii includes transactions at more than a thousand big-box stores, grocery stores, convenience shops and ATMs on all the major islands. At least $234,000 was accessed on Oahu, $70,626 on Maui, $39,883 on Hawaii and $22,170 on Kauai.
The list includes $12,433 spent at the upscale Ala Moana shopping center, $3,030 spent at a group of gift shops next to Jimmy Buffett's Beachcomber restaurant on Waikiki Beach and $2,146 withdrawn from ATMs on the island of Lanai, home to a pair of Four Seasons resorts and little else.
"If it's on Lanai, that should trigger an investigation," said Jon Coupal, president of the Howard Jarvis Taxpayers Assn. "California taxpayers, who are struggling to keep their own jobs, are subsidizing other people's vacations. That's absurd."
Of the nearly $12 million accessed in Las Vegas, more than $1 million was spent or withdrawn at shops and casino hotels on, or within a few blocks of, the 4.5-mile strip. The list includes $8,968 at the Tropicana, $7,995 at the Venetian and its Grand Canal Shoppes, and $1,332 at Tix 4 Tonight, seller of discount admission for such acts as Cirque du Soleil.
Although many Las Vegas casinos block the use of welfare cards in ATMs on gambling floors, more than $34,700 has been spent or withdrawn from the ATM at a 7-Eleven in the shadow of Steve Wynn's new Encore casino and a couple of blocks south of Circus Circus.
The data show addresses of stores and ATM locations where the cards have been used and the amounts of the transactions by year. They do not reveal the identities of the welfare recipients or show how many users visited a given retailer.
Of the $1.5 million accessed in Florida, $13,109 was spent or withdrawn in South Beach, most of that at bars and restaurants along trendy Lincoln Road. More than $7,000 was withdrawn from ATMs a few hours north, at Walt Disney World.Yeah, right. Someone stole all those cards--and the PIN numbers needed to use those cards. Uh-huh. Sure. But I can't blame them for trying to gull us with that one, since we were dumb enough to set up welfare programs like this and then trust that people who applied for it wouldn't tear the ass out of it like Michael Jackson in a daycare center. But knowing what's going on, it's a no-brainer that the government has put some investigators on the job who are diligently tracking down abusers, right?
The data also show $16,010 withdrawn from 14 cruise ships sailing from ports around the world — Long Beach, Rio de Janeiro, Beijing. Eight sail primarily from Miami.
The out-of-state spending accounts for less than 1% of the $10.8 billion spent by welfare recipients during the period covered, and advocates note that there are legitimate reasons to spend aid money outside of California. From the data provided, it cannot be determined whether any of the expenditures resulted from fraud.
"I think when somebody hears it's in a fancy hotel in Hawaii or Vegas, it's too easy to assume the [welfare recipient] is visiting that place and it wasn't somebody who stole their card," said Jessica Bartholow, a legislative advocate for the Western Center on Law and Poverty.
Wrong.
There is no rule preventing welfare recipients from leaving California, as long as they get clearance from their county case worker to be absent from the program's 32-hour-a-week job training requirement. County investigators, who state authorities say are responsible for rooting out fraud and abuse, typically don't question a recipient's whereabouts until transactions on a welfare card show that he or she has been gone for more than 30 days.And remember folks--California gets much of that money not from it's own citizens, but from my paycheck and yours, due in large part to that state's massive over-representation in Congress. (See why the census shouldn't count illegal aliens when determining allocation of congressional seats now? See why states like California demand that they be counted?)
"If it's a one-time thing in Miami, we would never check that out," said John Haley, commander of the financial crimes division of the San Diego County district attorney's office, who said 24% of all new welfare applications in his jurisdiction contain some form of fraud. "We look for patterns of abuse."
In Los Angeles County, investigators hadn't been checking until a recipient was gone for three months, said Department of Public Social Services Director Philip Browning. The inability to do more was "really just a resource issue," he said.
Following questions from The Times, Browning said investigators would start inquiring once the data show that a recipient has been gone for more than 30 days.
An anti-fraud unit in Orange County, which won praise from state officials last year for saving the state millions, has since had to slash its budget and lay off 15 investigators, said Paul Bartlett, commander of the county district attorney's Bureau of Investigation.
Those cuts saved $900,000 in operating expenses but allowed "an estimated $9.6 million in suspected fraud payments out the door," according to an Orange County Grand Jury report released in May.
A state audit last year found that none of California's 58 counties was adequately following up on information that could help root out fraud, including monthly computer matches that list clients who are receiving duplicate aid from other states, those who are ineligible because they're in prison and others who have died.
This is why I'd like to see us go back to the old Pre-FDR/LBJ days when charity assistance was given out by private charities and churches instead of the government. At least then, there was usually some oversight, and cheaters could be--and were--turned away without recourse. But we can't have the big government that the Democrats want without a large core of dependent voters, and nothing creates such a pool of reliable supporters like a government-run free-cheese store...especially one that lets the "poor" and "downtrodden" take cruises and trips to Hawaii on our money.
California needs to hire a lot more investigators, even if they have to cut benefits to pay for them. And those gold-plated "aid" cards need to be reprogrammed to insure that they are only used by someone showing a California state ID card in the name of the person that it was issued to and even then they should not work outside of the state.
Close shave, European style.
See tank.
See tank ignore stop sign.
See tank's treads lock in "panic stop" attempt on ice.
Talk about your "OH SHIT!" moment.
See tank ignore stop sign.
See tank's treads lock in "panic stop" attempt on ice.
Talk about your "OH SHIT!" moment.
Saturday, October 02, 2010
Suppose they gave a rally and nobody came?
Well the organizers of the so-called "One Nation" rally on the National Mall in Washington DC almost found out the answer to that one today, with a crowd turn-out that even the mainstream media outlets now admit was "significantly less" than Glenn Beck turned out for his own Restoring Honor" rally in the same spot last month. However this did not stop some idiot speaker named Joe Madison from shouting out during the first hour that he had a "satellite photo" that showed him that they'd turned out more people than Glenn Beck did. Yeah, whatever. Joe Madison is a horse's ass.
Here's the crowd at the BECK rally:
See all the people in that big field to the left? There was no one in that field today.
See the people under the trees to the right of the reflecting pool? None there today, either.
See all those people at the World War Two Memorial down front, and on the lawn across 15th Street? Those areas were empty, too. These people couldn't turn out a fraction of what Beck did, even considering that they were "400 organizations" and Glenn Beck was just one man.
And most of the ones who did turn out were union members--bused in, wearing union t-shirts and carrying mass-produced, professionally printed signs, quite unlike the heartfelt handmade signs that the Beck rally attendees had. And word is already out that many of the union members were paid cash or otherwise coerced to come out, again, unlike the Beck attendees, who came early and stayed late. Most of these union hacks showed up late and bailed way before it was over, and the speakers who were up during the last hour pretty much spoke to themselves and the park service cleaning crews.
Of course, who really wants to hear bitter, divisive bile from haters like "Special Ed" Schultz, or senile old Harry Belefonte, who called the Tea Party members the greatest threat to America today? Who wants to hear disgraced Obama appointee Van Jones, or sit through yet another rant from Congressman Luis Gutierrez about how we need to legalize all of the illegal aliens so that they can compete against American workers for all of the jobs that the union members in attendance want Obama to create? Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton were both there, but then each of those two attention-seekers would show up to speak at a backyard funeral for a five year old's goldfish if they thought that the other would be there.
It was dull, it was bitter, it was lackluster. Every speaker seems to have a complaint against or a criticism of America and none of them had any solutions other than "vote and keep the Republicans out". This also was a marked contrast to the upbeat, positive message and unabashed patriotism of Glenn Beck's event. Hell, a lot of these buffoons today couldn't even be bothered to stand or remove their hats for the National Anthem. There was even one group of latinos wearing t-shirts demanding an end to deportations that were sitting on an American flag like it was a beach towel at a picnic...and no one other than me seemed the least bit upset over it. But then these weren't the sort of people who care about such things; these were the ones who were just here because they want something from the government that they are too lazy or inept to earn for themselves. Fortunately, there weren't many of them.
November 2nd's looking better and better every day.
ADDED: Some great pics of the small crowd, the litter and the hate here on Marooned in Marin
Here's the crowd at the BECK rally:
See all the people in that big field to the left? There was no one in that field today.
See the people under the trees to the right of the reflecting pool? None there today, either.
See all those people at the World War Two Memorial down front, and on the lawn across 15th Street? Those areas were empty, too. These people couldn't turn out a fraction of what Beck did, even considering that they were "400 organizations" and Glenn Beck was just one man.
And most of the ones who did turn out were union members--bused in, wearing union t-shirts and carrying mass-produced, professionally printed signs, quite unlike the heartfelt handmade signs that the Beck rally attendees had. And word is already out that many of the union members were paid cash or otherwise coerced to come out, again, unlike the Beck attendees, who came early and stayed late. Most of these union hacks showed up late and bailed way before it was over, and the speakers who were up during the last hour pretty much spoke to themselves and the park service cleaning crews.
Of course, who really wants to hear bitter, divisive bile from haters like "Special Ed" Schultz, or senile old Harry Belefonte, who called the Tea Party members the greatest threat to America today? Who wants to hear disgraced Obama appointee Van Jones, or sit through yet another rant from Congressman Luis Gutierrez about how we need to legalize all of the illegal aliens so that they can compete against American workers for all of the jobs that the union members in attendance want Obama to create? Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton were both there, but then each of those two attention-seekers would show up to speak at a backyard funeral for a five year old's goldfish if they thought that the other would be there.
It was dull, it was bitter, it was lackluster. Every speaker seems to have a complaint against or a criticism of America and none of them had any solutions other than "vote and keep the Republicans out". This also was a marked contrast to the upbeat, positive message and unabashed patriotism of Glenn Beck's event. Hell, a lot of these buffoons today couldn't even be bothered to stand or remove their hats for the National Anthem. There was even one group of latinos wearing t-shirts demanding an end to deportations that were sitting on an American flag like it was a beach towel at a picnic...and no one other than me seemed the least bit upset over it. But then these weren't the sort of people who care about such things; these were the ones who were just here because they want something from the government that they are too lazy or inept to earn for themselves. Fortunately, there weren't many of them.
November 2nd's looking better and better every day.
ADDED: Some great pics of the small crowd, the litter and the hate here on Marooned in Marin
Saturday morning western
From the 1971 movie Red Sun. Here Charles Bronson, as American outlaw Link Stuart, finds himself reluctantly teamed up with Kuroda, a Samurai warrior (played by Toshiro Mifune). Stuart does his best to get away from the Samurai, but it's just not working out for him.
Friday, October 01, 2010
Stephen J Cannell dead at 69
Hollywood writer Stephen Cannell, the producer of TV shows like "The A-Team" and "The Rockford Files", has died at the age of 69.
I don't watch much TV these days, but there was a time that I did. And back then, most of my favorite shows were produced by Stephen J. Cannell.
He was, of course, probably best known for creating The A-Team, one of my favs back in the day. I was never a Mr. T fan, but I loved George Peppard and Dirk Benedict.
But way before the A-Team, Cannell created Baa, Baa Black Sheep, where Robert Conrad stoked my desire to fly and fight.
And then there was Riptide, the show about two detectives and their geek pal. They had all sorts of neat stuff--boats, cars, a helicopter--but they never seemed to get paid for any of their jobs. (If I was old and cynical like I am now, I'd suspect they were smuggling drugs. But I was all innocent back then.)
He created Hardcastle and McCormick, too. Man, I loved that one.
He came up with The Greatest American Hero too. I wasn't a real big fan of this one, but I usually watched it because Robert Culp was such a bad ass FBI agent.
And then there was Hunter, the show that really made me want to be a cop in ways that sappy shows like CHIPS never could.
There were lots of other shows that Stephen Cannell deserves credit for, but these are the ones that I watched while growing up. They all had lots of action and explosions, gunfire, car chases and tough guys punching each other out, but the common thread was always one of good guys, good friends, and justice winning out in the end. I'd be remiss if I didn't admit that some of these characters were role models to me as a kid, and the constant message of right trumping wrong stuck.
For that, and for making TV fun, I thank you, Mr. Cannell.
I don't watch much TV these days, but there was a time that I did. And back then, most of my favorite shows were produced by Stephen J. Cannell.
He was, of course, probably best known for creating The A-Team, one of my favs back in the day. I was never a Mr. T fan, but I loved George Peppard and Dirk Benedict.
But way before the A-Team, Cannell created Baa, Baa Black Sheep, where Robert Conrad stoked my desire to fly and fight.
And then there was Riptide, the show about two detectives and their geek pal. They had all sorts of neat stuff--boats, cars, a helicopter--but they never seemed to get paid for any of their jobs. (If I was old and cynical like I am now, I'd suspect they were smuggling drugs. But I was all innocent back then.)
He created Hardcastle and McCormick, too. Man, I loved that one.
He came up with The Greatest American Hero too. I wasn't a real big fan of this one, but I usually watched it because Robert Culp was such a bad ass FBI agent.
And then there was Hunter, the show that really made me want to be a cop in ways that sappy shows like CHIPS never could.
There were lots of other shows that Stephen Cannell deserves credit for, but these are the ones that I watched while growing up. They all had lots of action and explosions, gunfire, car chases and tough guys punching each other out, but the common thread was always one of good guys, good friends, and justice winning out in the end. I'd be remiss if I didn't admit that some of these characters were role models to me as a kid, and the constant message of right trumping wrong stuck.
For that, and for making TV fun, I thank you, Mr. Cannell.
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