Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Your Creepy 1938 comparison of the Day

This was no casual get together at a "friend's house" in Venice CA one casual Sunday. Nothing about this video is spontaneous or casual. It is scary in many ways. It is un-American. We don't sing paeans to humans upon whom some have bestowed godhood. We sing hymns to God, but not to men. Idolatry is evil, and it is most evil coming out of the mouths of babes.  The lyrics of this song are over the top in their awfulness. One can only say, "The words rhyme." It was the kind of unsingable tripe that has to have been composed by one of those psychotherapists who recover memories of Satanic ritualistic sexual torture in three year old day care center inmates. Here are the lyrics:

Music and lyrics by Lily Campbell

We’re gonna spread happiness
We’re gonna spread freedom
Obama’s gonna change it
Obama’s gonna lead ‘em

We’re gonna change it
And rearrange it
We’re gonna change the world.

Music and lyrics by Kathy Sawada

Now’s the moment, lift each voice to sing
Sing with all your heart!
For our children, for our families,
Nations all joined as one.
Sing for joy and sing abundant peace,
Courage, justice, hope!
Sing together, hold each precious hand,
Lifting each other up;
Sing for vision, sing for unity,
Lifting our hearts to Sing!

Music and lyrics by Kathy Sawada
Yes we can can can can can can yes we can can can
Lift each other up In peace, in love, in hope Change! Change! Yuck.

(at one point, that video went down the memory hole, and I had to look for another copy of it. Apparently, the producers didn't realize how demented it is and took it down.)

Which brings us back to our 1938 moment:

"Hitler Our Savior" Watch it and weep for your country's future:

Adolph Hitler is our Savior, our hero.
He is the noblest being in the whole wide world.
For Hitler we will live. For Hitler we will die.
Our Hitler is our Lord, who rules a Brave New World.

From John Eberhard at Common Sense Government:
(read the whole article)

It is so like a culture in decline to look toward a charismatic leader for all of our excesses. It is not liberty which has brought us to this point. Here is the cycle of society in it's highest form, to its most evil and decadent. Where do you think that we are on this circle?

Sunday, September 28, 2008

I can haz Noo-awnce

I have a brother I love dearly, but when we were younger, he used to drive me nuts by his constant one-upmanship. No matter what I did, his deed was better. No matter what toy I got for Christmas or birthdays, his was better, bigger, badder. He did this with everyone. I can run faster than you. I am smarter than you. We got tired of it, and no matter how many times he got beaten up by bullies and people he challenged with his me too only better routine, he clung to the MO as if it were actually working.  Watching the debate the other night, or rather, analyzing the commentary from astute bloggers who invented drinking games to go with the number of times McCain said, My friends, or Obama said, Let me be clear on this....did we actually think we were going to hear anything, or did we secretly just want to watch the trains derail? Personally, I would like to see a no holds barred punch fest just to see who can really out debate AND hurl the most memorable invective at the same time. The faux politeness is just one of the heavy burdens placed upon us by Political Correctness, which is the Dictatorship of Nice. 

Obama will always be remembered for his I have a bracelet, too, remark. It will be seared into the memory as an image of a boy who is not a man, neither is he mature enough to be called anything other than a boy. A bully boy, at that. A pampered, me too snob of a bully.

UPDATE: Newsbusters.org has a radio transcript of Ryan Jopek's family asking Obama NOT to continue wearing his bracelet. And cue the crickets from the media.

From Tammy Bruce, via Atlas Shrugged:

"I've got a bracelet too"

A post by Maynard

Events such as this are occasionally punctuated be a defining moment. It's the thing you remember long after the rest of the details are lost to the haze of time. This does not predict what happens next. But whatever may come, the fragment retains the spirit of the whole.

Here are a couple of examples. If you were there, these words will carry you back to days gone by.

When Ronald Reagan debated Walter Mondale, it was "I am not going to exploit, for political purposes, my opponent's youth and inexperience."

When Lloyd Bentsen debated Dan Quayle, it was "Senator, you are no Jack Kennedy."

When George Bush debated John Kerry, it was "You forgot Poland."

I predict that, for the rest of your life, you won't hear the phrase "I've got a bracelet too" without your mind flying back to what you saw tonight.

I'm not saying that Obama "lost" the debate at this point. The ill wind that propels him is not going to vanish away. But I think this cuts to the heart of the contest. It captures the image of Obama as the junior wannabe, struggling to make of himself a strained and pathetic imitation of the real man that stood across from him. People will see it that way, whether they realize it or not.

Remember this. The human creature is a poet at heart. We respond to imagery and metaphor, even at times when we should focus on hard facts alone. Obama's strength lies in his fantasy image. His reality is atrocious. If the illusion falters, Obama will crumple like the empty suit he is.

As a practical matter, you can now terminate an annoying political exchange by evincing a childish sneer while simpering, "Yeah, well I've got a bracelet too. Nyah!"

Well, Maynard, that summed it up pretty much for me. So much to look forward to in November. I really want to see this man show his true, unhinged, unmedicated colors.
...Obama, that is.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Mail Bag!

I saw this pithy little slogan on the back of a VW at Roots Farmer's Market, this afternoon. It reminded me of some other pithy little catchphrase from that wistful bygone era of golden sunshine yesteryear nostalgiadom:

Are we there, yet?

Now on to the mail. Yes, I get tons of email, which I do try to answer, but I have so many friends and well-wishers in Nigeria that I don't get to them all. Sorry, but you know I love you, and I would give you my bank account numbers if I could remember them. They're all in Swiss, anyway, and I don't speak Swiss.

Nuff said. This letter is from Albert, a man I have known since he was a 4 year old Mighty Morphin' Power Ranger bustin' moves on my diaper clad toddlers who worshiped him.
He wants something more precious than bank account numbers, more valuable to me than gold, itself. He wants recipes. For my meatballs. And for my apples and sauerkraut. I almost hesitate, since it took many years to perfect my secret ways with cream of mushroom soup and tuna fish, but what the hey! Here you go, Albert. Just don't burn down the house, m'kay?


There are many ways I make meatballs, and my favorite is this following recipe:

Italian Salad dressing
1 lb ground beef
1 lb Italian Sweet Sausage - patties or loose, not link sausages
2 slices of white bread, torn and soaking in milk (squeeze out the milk before mixing)
1/2 cup of Parmesan cheese
1 tablespoon of Italian herb seasoning
1 egg
1 small can of tomato sauce
1 tablespoon of dried minced onions
garlic salt

On a large baking sheet, (I usually use a broiler pan) lightly spray with Pam or brush with olive oil. In a large bowl, mix all the ingredients EXCEPT the meat. Add meat, alternating between beef and sausage. Mix with hands and roll into 1 to 1 and 1/2 inch balls. If the meatballs seem soggy, let them sit awhile, they will dry out a bit. Brush with Italian dressing and bake in a 350 degree oven for 25 minutes, but do not cook through. Let them braise in spaghetti sauce for another hour in a covered pot. Serve over spaghetti! That's all there is to it! Here is another modification for beefy meatballs:

2 lbs. ground beef
1 can French onion soup
two slices of bread, torn up
1 tablespoon of horseradish or dijon mustard
1 tsp thyme
salt and pepper
1 egg
Follow the same procedure and braise in beef stock, caramelized onions and sliced mushrooms from which you can make a really delicious gravy. Serve over rice or mashed potatoes.

Pork and Sauerkraut a la Mrs. Jewel:

It took me many many years to perfect this recipe, because my mother-in-law, bless her soul, makes it like the Pennsylvania Dutch types all around her, and knows no better, and actually eating the stuff she made was harder than you can imagine. Thus, I vowed to make it edible. What I do for love. (She doesn't like the blasphemous modifications, by the way.)

Preheat your oven to 325. Sear a pork shoulder on all sides, in a Dutch oven, seasoning with salt, pepper and thyme and sage and cinnamon. Remove from the heat to a plate, when all browned and melt some bacon fat. A good artery clogging heap of it, too. Drain the wretched kraut thoroughly. Not a trace of sauer, understand? Pour the cleaned kraut into the fat and add chopped apples - golden delish will do nicely. Toss and stir, till it ceases to offend. Add a half cup of brown sugar and a teaspoon of cinnamon and a cup of apple cider. Add a teaspoon of sweet curry powder. Trust me, you will thank me later. Center the pork roast and pour the drippings in from the plate. Cover and bake for 2 hours or more. This is one of the finest new year's traditions in our house. I make a sweet and savory gravy from the juices in the pan. We always serve the apples and kraut over whipped potatoes, and there are seldom any leftovers.
Another way to cook the kraut is, believe it or not, with a good smoky sweet barbecue sauce. It is quite delicious.
Finally, Albert asked if I could give him the recipe for my basil and bacon salad.
It is cooked, thicksliced bacon, cut up into smallish pieces, tossed with baby spinach, grape tomatoes, a handful of basil leaves, apple cider vinegar, a little dijon mustard and olive oil, with chopped fresh mozzerella cheese. Simple little salad.
One more thing. Shopping for fresh veggies and fruit at a farmer's market is worth the once a week wait. I got locally grown produce, at really good prices. I couldn't buy 4 cukes for a dollar. Or 2 red bell peppers for a buck at any grocery store. Blueberries from Jersey at 2 pints for 2 bucks? I think not!

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

The Designated Back Seat Driver

La Conduttoressa indicata dell'automobile dal sedile posteriore:

Via Gerard

I enjoyed watching this several times. I probably would have reacted the same way, if I were the designated back seat driver, too. It's in Italian, which is just a lot of body language, so no need for subtitles. The invective mingled with prayers is delizioso.

Speaking of delicious, time to recount the lovely dinner we had the other night.

My husband hates many kinds of foods, namely, raisins, onions, and tomatoes. I found that, while he also hates lemons, too, he does like lemonade, and lemon butter dill new potatoes. Now I find he hates orange marmalade....the inspiration of our dinner.

The irksome middle child had called home wondering what we were having for dinner. Usually, she comes in late, reheats something and goes down to her room. Well, I decided to cut off her free meal, and I have been making very small 3 person portions for the three of us who actually deserve to eat. So when she comes home from her den of iniquity, looking for noshables, she finds milk, cereal, not much else. Heheheheh.

So Saturday night, she called home, desperately poor and hungry, (We cut her off from all hand outs for money a long time ago) and I told her we were having baked chicken, noodles and carrots. Pretty tame sounding fare. She thought it would be the best. thing. ever. And I imagine so, after not eating anything at all. Enter the Lady Marmalade!

I poured a very fruity virgin cold pressed olive oil over the chicken, both sides, and sprinkled Herbes de Provence over them, along with salt, black pepper, and cinnamon. Then.....

In another pan, I fried off bacon pieces, just until they were barely crisp, drained the fat off, added a chopped shallot, sliced mushrooms, frozen spinach, 1 can of chicken broth and a box of stuffing mix. Just as everything came to a boil, I turned off the heat and let everything steam until silky and puddinglike, and added back the bacon pieces.

In another pot, I boiled some wide egg noodles, drained and buttered them, added parsley and salt.

In yet another pan, I steamed carrots until they were al dente, removed the water, added 2 tablespoons of butter and a 1/4 cup of dark brown sugar, and let the carrots glaze themselves.

By this time, the chicken was almost brown enough to pour on the marmalade. I mixed a small jar of orange marmalade with a large dollop of Dijon mustard and one tablespoon of melted butter. I poured it over the chicken and broiled it for a few moments, just till the sticky and caramelization were perfected. By this time, Wednesday's Child came dawdling in, just in time for the husband to be surprised.

Watching her revel in eating good food for the first time in who knows how long was a well-savored reward in itself, but watching her laugh and cry at the same time, while the hubster declared it the most delicious and memorable meal he'd eaten in ever so long was Priceless™! (And there were leftovers for lunch today!)

Monday, September 15, 2008

"Outrage!" you can't live without!

From Kathleen Connally's Photoblog

I prefer my photography in the best sense of the word. Take a Walk through Durham Township, Pennsylvania, for example. Kathleen Connally lives in a county not far from my home, and it's even closer with but a click of a mouse. Her photography is breathtakingly beautiful. Comforting scenes of the ordinary made sublimely exquisite.

Strength and Compassion by Michael Yon

Or have a look at Michael Yon's work. Also moving, in the best sense of the word. If one feels outrage at the cost of human lives in wartime, it is the genuine kind that emanates from a wellspring of deep sorrow and anger, and the word is appropriate.

So I am not too outraged by anything during this endless election cycle. Why the hell is McCain outraged by Obama's "lipstick on a pig" remark, anyway? Grow a humor gland old man. Laugh at your political opponents. THAT's the American Way™, buddy.

But "OUTRAGE!", being the cool new emo of the day, is almost an epidemic. I seem to be somewhat immunized by it, due to the fact that there are some things about which one can be truly outraged, and September 11th, 2001 is but one of the very few things that outraged me thus far in my lifetime. Ah, yes, the British nanny, Louise Woodward, she outraged me. When I get outraged, I get cold in the hands and face. I don't get loud, I get quiet. I can't speak. Anger courses slowly like icebergs through me. I feel the adrenaline rush of outrage. Real, definable outrage.

All this insanity of what passes for outrage is just another word being dumbed down. You know, like racism and rape, which are evil things, but which have come to mean almost anything and nothing at all. Add to that the whole pantheon of "-ism" godesses all newly invented for your outraging savor: sexism, ageism, and the phobia gods: Islamophobia, and homophobia....Hell, even the Christians are getting into it with Christophobia.

Meh. All theses silly psychobabble words were invented by people who think with their spleens instead of their brains.

Having said that, I am not against saying that certain unprofessional behavior isn't outrageous . There is a difference. People do outrageous things for which the standard response should be measured in kind. As of late, all kinds of professional codes of ethics and conduct have flown out the window among the chattering classes. I agree, that it is a time for anger, but the collective bi-partisan meltdown of blogosphere and press is over the top in its use of the word "OUTRAGED!" It is the response to the outrageous with outrage that bothers me so much, since a slice of humor would suffice.

Here is one "outrageous!" bit of conduct: Obama talks about lipstick on a pig in response to Sarah Palin's joke about pitbulls and hockey moms (spoiler: the punchline is lipstick), and that sends his acolytes and lemmings over the edge with glee. Nice comeback, Mr. Obama. I am not actually outraged by his lame ass joke, at all! But McCain responds, with, yeah, you guessed it: "OUTRAGE!" Well, here is a better response:

From American Digest

Here is another photo for you to be outraged by, and really, you have to read the whole messy saga at A.D. for the hot and bilious taste of spleen: It really is outrageous misbehavior on the part of Atlantic photographer Jill Greenberg. Here is but one photo from her site in question:

Nice touch of class with the lipstick, Jill!

I won't link to Greenberg's site, you can do that through American Digest, where Gerard really picks apart the unprofessional conduct of the photographer. I don't like Greenberg's photography at all. It is sick and creepy. She is also manipulative of little kids for political purposes the sake of her art.


If a photographer is to have a say about politics, and even use and manipulate images as she sees fit, fine, but somewhere, Greenberg crossed a professional line by keeping and grossly manipulating photos from The Atlantic's story on John McCain, where neither McCain nor the author of the article had any idea these images were going to be manipulated by her and published on the internet. Now, while this conduct was certainly outrageous, it would have been scorched earth time if the Atlantic had published those doctored photos, and real outrage would have been appropriate. In fact, Think In Pictures had two responses to her outrageous conduct concerning the emotional manipulation of children as a professional photographer. One sober and one satirical. Both were great responses to her outrageous conduct.

So, what to do with all the churning and burning going on in our organs? Laugh a little.

Case in point. If I were Sarah Palin, and I saw THIS photoshop of myself, I would definitely ask for residuals:

Well, some folks ain't happy with the gratuitous sexualization of McCain's Veep choice, but if they feel outraged, they ought to click over to The People's Cube for the Ultimate Photoshopping of political enemies - which include the candidates' white grandmothers and mischievous but otherwise cute children. And their cats.

See how it works? Michelle Obama is truly a Hot First Lady Contender. She ranks way higher in BootyLicious factors than Barbara Bush, Hillary Clinton, or for that matter, Laura Bush. Did that stop Comrade Politilemologist from enhancing her beauty even more with a swimsuit-babe-on-the-beach photoshop of Madame Michelle?

SNAP! Oh NO he dint!

And what should Mr. Michelle's response be to the "OUTRAGEOUS!" sexualization of his already really hot babelicious wife? Well.....

That would be classy. Not that he would see that picture of his wife. Ever. Seriously. Don't email him this link!

Now THIS is funny! For a change. The outrage is that Saturday Night Live calls itself a comedy show. They got this one right, methinks.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

September Madness

I hate September 11th. I just wish we could stay September 10th a little while longer, but the world is progressing further into the cauldron of madness. So instead of looking back on This Day in History, I will just look at This Day in the Here and Now. So much insanity to cover. Did you know, for example, that the world As We Know It was supposed to have ended yesterday?

And somewhere, out there, The Little Prince is so very ronery. Hmm, I hear rumors that China may be looking for some lebensraum.

And of course, the woman who drives the important people you should know INSANE!!!! And it appears that Daughter Piper has given Maw some competition, too! Will this madness cease, or must we continue to be infotained to death by it, forever?

Come, O First Tuesday in Sweet November. Let me swill thy perfumed Kool-Aid and dream naught until January 20th, and rouse me then, but gently, from my hungover slumber and brace me for the cruel winds of Two Oh Nine.

Picture from Wizbang

Or else I can prolly wait til Two Oh Forty and Four.

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Baal Worship in North Carolina. With weeping and moaning

Viral: Via Discarded Lies, via Confederate Yankee:

Thank goodness, they're 'doing it' for the trees. I'd hate to have that kind of help for the sheeple. I have but one quibble: We indeed have a deep craving in America, for some Trees n' Cheese! Oh yeah, my kids' favorite: Broccoli and Cheese Sauce.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Best of the Worst Headline Juxtapositions

From Extreme Mortman:

Direct fire kills three soldiers? Wow.  You don't suppose that was deliberate?  Nah. Not US! 

In local news, Barack Obama will be visiting here in Lancaster, PA, speechifying at a park named for the only U.S. President from Heroe Township, and Rated Numero Uno ---- in this category.

Methinks this is not so good an omen.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Psychopath Couture

Sarah Palin is weighing heavily on my mind, today. This is not going to be a fun post. Neither is it going to be a gung ho, go get 'em post. It is going to be an empathic post. Empathy is a quality lacking in our culture, while self-pity and victim-aggrandizement of the priviledged oppressed favored are the norm. My inner spritual ear is all agley.

So I can really identify with the woman, where one of my own children is concerned. Not the publicity, since the only publicity I get is that which I generate myself. No. That doesn't bother me. My troubled child has a MySpace site, which is the Blasphemous Shrine to that Unholy Trinity of Me Myself and I and all others be, like totally damned, LOL!...and thus, she is as much a part of the voyeuristic culture as the rest of the world. It is impossible to have secrets in this day and age.

Trying to love a child who refuses all counsel, who is determined to destroy herself and many others in her wake is a tough, tough thing. I can see her mother's knees going weak, when Bristol told her that she was pregnant. The father's jaw tightening, and knuckles turning white. I can really identify with every emotion her mother and father must have gone through when the words, "I'm pregnant, mom." dropped out of her face.

So far, we have had two false alarms when the pregnancy news bomb was tossed into our laps. But the girl didn't think she was preggers, she was lying to people, telling them she was. She told them she miscarried the first time, and secondly, that she'd had an abortion. This is more unnerving than it would be if she had to deal with an unplanned pregnancy.
So it was not really a relief to know that she wasn't really pregnant, because this, to us, showed a deeper spiritual problem. This beautiful daughter of mine, now an adult, I worry, may be a psychopath. Oh yes, the disease itself has changed its name several times, from 'moral idiocy' to 'psychopathic' to 'sociopathic' to the now fashionable 'bi polar' or 'antisocial behavior'. Whatever. It is the plague of our generation. It is the spirit of the age, fed by a century's worth nihilism.

Simply put, the girl has no conscience. Here are her qualities. every. single. one of them.

Dr. Robert Hare's Symptoms of Psychopaths
© 1993 by Robert D. Hare, PhD. Reprinted by permission of The Guilford Press.

Interpersonal traits

Glib and superficial
Egocentric and grandiose
Lack of remorse or guilt
Lack of empathy
Deceitful and manipulative
Shallow emotions

Antisocial lifestyle

Poor behavior controls
Need for excitement
Lack of responsibility
Early behavior problems
Adult antisocial behavior
The complete picture

These qualities describe my daughter in a nutshell....sorry for the pun. If I could describe a moment of observation: Brushing her teeth. She squeezes toothpaste on the brush....and keeps squeezing, til the paste is puddling, wasted in the sink. Deliberate act of toothpaste vandalism. It might not seem like anything important, but it isn't silly, either, when you consider how expensive toothpaste can be in a household of 6 people. What is worse is the glee bathing her face as she is squeezing out the toothpaste. Why would someone do this? It is inexplicable to me.
She had managed to hide her true face from teachers, until last year, when she careened out of control. After she was in juvenile detention for a month, we began to see the first sign: Glibness. Charm. Smoothly assuaging everyone's fears that she would behave from now on. Lies. Lies. All lies.

And now, we have come to the conclusion that we can no longer control her. We can no longer cover for her or intervene on her behalf. She is now an adult and it is time to let her sail free. I am not hopeful, but I am prayerful. My belief is that she will not do well. Simply, she has not acquired the skills necessary to survive. I am hoping those skills she will discover, and work toward developing, but one of my fears is this: She is bright, beautiful and stoopid. Gullible and deceitful all at once. She is both a predator and easy prey. I simply don't know what the future will hold for her.

Any parent who reads this, whose heart is broken by the child you have lovingly raised, given every tool in life to succeed, only to sit by helpless, while she wallows in filth, ignorance and depravity, can understand where I am. If anything, I can understand where Sarah Palin may be, too. I truly hope Bristol and Levi and their families can work through the public madness swirling around them. They would be like any other young couple faced with a difficult future as young parents, were it not for the Hurricane of politics and the cannibals of the press eager to feed.

This too, shall pass.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Zo Man pours on the Macho Sauce

There are idiots

And there's this Diddiot

And then. There's the fine ass kicking rebuttal from the Zo man:

That's some hot and spicy Macho Sauce, Zo!