Mosquito Rodeo

I have to say I've become less entranced with Delay every time I read about him. Now this.

I can hear the left-wing screeching from here. Hold on to your hats, ladies, it's gonna get really ugly.

I bet a dollar this will be used by left-wing screwballs to call for Bush's impeachment within the hour (never mind that Bush apparently has nothing to do with it).

Ah, isn't campain finance reform WONDERFUL? They should ditch any and all campaign finance laws except to require full transparency. All political donors named individually by amount, and all ads show prominently who paid for it. If people know who the messenger is, they can make their own adjustments as to how much credence to give it.

I always wondered when this would happen.

I have to say that this is the sort of thing I would have had a lot of fun doing in college. Heck, I'd have fun doing it today. Pretty sad, when you think about it...but I wouldn't trade those days for anything....as long as they're in the past, that is. You can only live on Ramen noodles, pizza and coke for so long before you have to move on to actual adulthood, I guess.

If we had just signed off on Kyoto and destroyed our economy, this wouldn't be a problem, right?

And a General has earned his stripes.

I hope every reporter who repeatedly peppers a public official with variations of the same question, over and over, is met with the reply:

"You're stuck on stupid. I'm not going to answer that question."

As an aside, Honore's words and the way he says them are extremely politically incorrect, which is why I love the man, but more than that, he gives me confidence that Rita won't catch anybody off-guard. He's a man with a plan.

Somthing's going on. I don't like the looks of this AT ALL.

This past weekend, I was watching news with my folks, and we were treated to a tearful tirade by a guy in New Orleans claiming to be angry with the federal government for not coming to their aid sooner. Nothing wrong with that in principle. I'd probably be frustrated too, until I realized that it was the New Orleans mayor who didn't organize anything and the Louisiana governor who blocked the aid that I should be mad at.

But okay, the guy was mad. And he wailed and gnashed his teeth and trotted out a sob story about how his buddy's mom was waiting to be rescued and eventually died.

The bastard was lying.

But at least he's a pretty good actor. Hollywood might be interested in his performance. I thought it was a little over the top as I was watching, and I for damned sure won't buy it now.

The "racism" silliness emanating from the Left regarding the New Orleans tragedy is pretty dumb. Are there racists? Yes, of course. Are they happy so many blacks are dead or in trouble? Undoubtedly some of them are. Do most of the donations to the cause of helping these people have stamped on them "for aid to white people only"? I doubt it, but I guess I can't say for sure. Is there a giant conspiracy among state, local and federal authorities to withhold aid? Heh. Moonbat. They can't seem to even find their own heads with both hands and a map.

So I would direct a question to the left, because I had no idea it was so easy to be a racist. I thought you had to hate people of other races because they were of the race they were, and I don't hate anybody for that reason that I can think of. However, I DID really love a lot of the music of White Lion in the 80s. So my question is this: am I damned to the special corner of hell reserved for those labeled "racist"? I mean, the implied racism is pretty evident in a band that uses "white" in its title, right?

Because though it's probably considered pretty unhip by many musical types, I really did dig "Wait", "Sweet Little Lovin'", "When the Children Cry", etc.

Just askin', is all.

Seriously. Think about some of this stuff, but don't start reading unless you have some time. This essay DESERVES your time, whether you're a fascist warmonger like me or a pinko fruitcake like Ben.

Pinko fruitcake Ben here, providing a link to the War Nerd's latest essay. Unlike Whittle, I'd put GWB firmly in the "pink" tribe for his steadfast refusal to recognize that Iraqis aren't going to be middle class white Republicans just to make GWB look good. GWB's entire administration is based upon Whittle's pink motto, "EVERYBODY IS SPECIAL." From opening the floodgates of illegal immigration to the NO CHILD GETS AHEAD laws GWB is as pink as pink can be.

I know it's trivial compared to what's been going on in New Orleans, but everybody else is covering that to death, and I've got a smaller, more personal pain that I'm bearing today and I need to write it out, if only for myself.

I had a wonderful dog. He was a giant of a beast, but gentle as a summer rain unless someone threatened one of his people. He loved stuffed toys, rawhide, being brushed and he LOVED it when I would clean the crud out of his ears with q-tips. He loved walking with me, and we explored the world together for over 7 years. He was one of the best friends I ever had, and for sure the best dog I ever knew.

This morning my friend went to wherever our beloved pets go when they die. He had reached the point where he couldn't make it down the deck steps to pee. He was doing well last spring, but it's been a pretty steep slide over the summer, and this morning we called the vet out to help him go easily.

He's now laying in his freshly-dug grave (with two of his stuffed animals), and I'm only waiting for his "mom" to get home so we can bury him together. She has come to love him, and he her, almost as much as me. It was a pleasure to know such a fine animal, and I have a hard time picturing myself ever finding a better companion.

But I won't quit trying. I've done this before. There's life after Bo. It just doesn't feel like it right now...but I still have one dog, and when her time comes, there'll be another. There always will be, because I'm cursed with a love of dogs...a curse I'm happy to bear even now during the worst part.

Bo: I'll miss you friend. I hope we'll meet again, and if we do, it will be a happy day indeed. Until then, I'll remember the good times and ignore the times you shook your head and splattered the wall with slobber. Slobber cleans off. Instead, I'll remember the time you discovered the rabbit in the back yard and almost killed yourself chasing him. I'll remember the time you bounded over a 4-foot fence from a sitting position when you spotted a squirrel and decided it needed to die. I'll remember the time you got your foreleg stuck in the fence gate and I had to leap oever it to rescue you before you broke it. I'll remember the first time I watched a 150 pound monster running toward me from ground level. I'll remember the times you jumped in to catch a fish I was trying to land. I'll remember the time I took you to the Renaissance Festival and you drew a bigger crowd than the jugglers, played with a hundred kids and ate until even you couldn't eat any more. I'll remember a hundred other times that you made me laugh and cry. I'll keep you in my heart and wherever I go, you'll be right there beside me.

Love you, monsterdog.

UPDATE: It would be nice if this story were actually true. That would be a GLORIOUS day.