Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Lemme Get This Straight

Via RightNetwork




Let me see if I got this straight:  The State Department is negotiating terms of surrender with the taliban. 

Terrorists. Really. The guys who kill women for being out of doors? Got it. And for not wearing their portable prison over their entire bodies? Yup. And just for the thrill of killing women? Most definitely. Oh, and who blow up girls' schools, too? Yes. Wonderful. The savages who blew up the Buddhist statues in Bamiyan? Okay. Got it. Those guys.

The taliban who used money given to them by the United Nations for the purpose of building of a soccer stadium - because nothing says you're a civilized nation more than having a soccer stadium - who then used the same soccer stadium to put on a show of mass executions of women....which is, I guess the national past time.

Wonderful people. So very like the Hamas and the Fatah we are forcing Israel to 'negotiate' terms of peace with. Ah.

What do you mean the taliban leader was an impostor? You mean he wasn't an honest broker? A man of integrity? A fair trader? 

Huh! What do you know about that!

Update:  Breaking news. The State Department found the real McMullah! Peace in our time is at hand!

Her Hawtness, Evil Twin Wants to Know....

"Can I keep them, Mom?"


I need to have another talk with this child.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Iowahawk Reminds You: Song Parodies are the Lowest Form of Humor

The man is brilliant.
iowahawk: Comply With Me*: "http://www.typepad.com/services/trackback/6a00d83451eb3469e20134890201e0970c

                                       As Seen at Boingboing! 

Read it here or read it there, just read it and laugh. Or weep, depending on whether you are scanned or groped.


Comply With Me*

(With deepest apologies to Sammy Cahn, Jimmy Van Heusen & Frank Sinatra)
Comply with me, before you fly away
Remove those shoes and take a cruise
Through my peekaboo X-ray
Comply with me, I'm your friendly TSA

Comply with me, you domestic coach class bums
If you opt out I'll just give a shout
To my icy-handed chums
Comply with me, bend over here it comes

Once I get all up there where your hair is ticklish
I'll just fish
Got my wish
Once I get all up there you'll be squirming like an eel
You may squeal
At the feel
When we're together

Proctology is such a lovely trade
I'll show you love with my rubber glove
Try not to be afraid
I'd be a perfect gentleman, if you had just obeyed
Comply with me, I'm GS8 pay grade

Janet Napolitano says to spread 'em wide
Have you tried Astro-glide?
Janet Napolitano knows your clothes are off
Head aloft
Turn it and cough
When we're together

Don't crack wise or I'll ruin your whole day
Please don't frown when I pat you down
It alerts the CIA
It's perfectly legal practice except at Gitmo Bay
Comply with me, comply comply
Comply with me, obey, obey, obey!

Check out the security risks on that one! Yeah!
 Image taken from a January 11, 2010 post at Media Monarchy.
Well, that didn't take long!

Monday, November 15, 2010

Monday Reality Check

The weekend was a beautiful send-off for autumn, lingering a bit longer in these here parts of the land. Reality intrudes, however. The ugly reality is that we're in for of a long, cruel winter. Ushering the new week in with a veil of tears for Monday posting only seems appropriate. Let me start this week by praying, "Lord Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner." It will help to keep me in the proper frame of mind for the winter that is before me.


The Gods of the Copybook Headings   
by Rudyard Kipling

As I pass through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place;
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four —
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man —
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began: —
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

Sunday, November 14, 2010

What is There Left to Say?

I cannot wrap my head around this. I'm speechless.


Lyndsey Fiddler, 26, was high on drugs when she put her newborn daughter, Maggie May Trammel, in the washing machine along with the dirty laundry and started a washing cycle, NewsOn6 reports.
Fiddler’s dangerous drug habit spurred her relatives toward an unsuccessful attempt to have her parental rights stripped when she was four months pregnant.
This is not Fiddler's first run-in with the law, the Tulsa World reported. She had previously been convicted of larceny and assault and battery, and has received numerous traffic violations for speeding, driving without a license and failing to put her other kids in child safety seats.

 By Jamie Urbarri, New York Daily News Staff Writer

Beauty for a Beautiful Sunday

Piano Concerto No 2 in F Major Op. 102: II. Andante


Bonne Anniversaire, Monsieur Monet!


Tarkovsky's Mirror (Spiegel im Spiegel: Arvo Pärt)


Enjoy the day.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Italian Lessons

One thing always leads to another. It's been one of those days for me. Seriously.

One of the more amazing experiences I had as a piano teacher was trying to teach a family of Sicilian immigrants. The father, Sal, owned two pizzerias with his brother and was doing quite well. He lived with his wife and two sons in a newly-built, upper middle class housing development and spoke mostly Italian in the home. La Sposa, a beautiful young woman with not a word of English in her mouth did all of her grocery shopping in Little Italy™ on their regular weekend shopping trips to New York. She bought only Italian products, and not just food products, but household cleaning products as well. My minimal Italian was enough to endear me to La Famiglia for life.

Sal was a quick study, and had a knack for the piano. His son Pietro, was another story. I just couldn't teach him anything.

Our lessons were always interrupted by Mamma, Skyping La Sposa from Palermo. Blah blah blah is the same in Italian as it is in English. Compounding La Sposa's need to talk to Mamma was the papagallo's endless squawking. Little brother Davide added to the decibel levels with his constant entreaties for me to play with him.

I came for their lessons one Monday, and walked into the kitchen to see La Sposa, her 4 sorellas and Mamma visiting from Sicily. 6 of them, sitting around the kitchen island, each holding a scratch-off lotto ticket in one hand, a quarter and a lit cigarette in the other. They blah-blahed with each other happily, as they tossed scratched tickets into a large pile in the middle of a table under a thick haze of cigarette smoke.

I smiled, said "Buon giorno come state mi chiamo Gioella sono la maestra ciao" and went down to the rec room to give Bambino and Babbo their piano lessons. Babbo was usually not present for his boy's lesson.

Poor Pietro. Every mistake proved he hadn't practiced, and Babbo smacked the back of his head while the boy howled at the injustice.They argued with each other in Italian, and the boy would make another attempt, fail, and invite more head smacks and curses upon himself for wasting Babbo's hard earned money. Needless to say, piano lessons soon ended. Neither Babbo nor Bambino learned to play the piano. I, on the other hand, learned a lot.


La vita è dolcissima, infatti! Grazie mille, Signor Sippicano!

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Christie Gets Personal

New Jersey Governor Chris Christie takes the war on graft and corruption to a new level by naming and shaming one particular greedy bastard and the school board who approved of this institutionalized theft. It isn't just teachers' unions that are the extortionists, but the superintendents and school boards who appropriate  expropriate money from the powerless taxpayers. And it isn't just in New Jersey. Even here, in conservative Lancaster County, PA, we aren't safe from the sharks who devour our children and then make us pay for it.


Posted also at Cubachi and Ace of Spades HQ.

You think that students aren't learning the lessons that corruption teaches? Think again.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Note to the Pregnant, Irksome Middle Child: Give the Poppy-Seed Bagel a Pass

H/T HotAir and Reason


The All-Encompassing Nanny State has proven just how incompetent its agents are when enforcing its draconian drug laws. Their actions are never tempered by commonsense or decency. Petty tyrants wield unbridled power to increase the magnitude of pain and suffering they inflict upon people whose lives are ruined by malicious prosecutions and convictions.

This trickle down stupidity overflows the legislative sewage pipes of Utopian thinking, backing up into Ugly reality, with mandatory sentences that punish the guilty and innocent alike with merciless vindictiveness. So many wasted lives wither and die in prison for just the crime of drug use. Or for not using drugs. Does it matter to the test that she was only eating a poppy-seed bagel? The test can't tell whether she ate a poppy seed bagel or if she shot heroin, so why should the police, the social workers, the hospital staff, the prosecutor or the judge?

The test makes looking for other evidence of drug use unnecessary. Only a minimum of thought needs to be used, because there's a test, and no one can fool the test.

And so, a little strip of paper allows the mandarins to be excused with the heartless cliché, "I was only doing my job." No sleep lost. No excess is too wretched. The prison bed is a cold slab of cement with a shredded pile of United States Constitution. Make yourselves comfortable. The mandarins will eventually get around to outlawing the manufacture and selling and eating of anything containing poppy seeds. For your health and benefit. Dorothy and her little air-breathing friends will just have to tumble into fields of something other than poppies, and the Belgians will have to replant Flanders' Fields.



Moral of the story:  Sue the bastards.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

A Bumper Sticker, Explained

Via Jihad Watch, with credit to Kathy Shaidle at NewsReal Blog

This  goes a long way in clearing up any misconceptions you may have had about the liberal mindset. Print out some copies and give them to people who have this sticker on their Volvos.


This is the pact made between the suicidal leftists in the West and Islam: COEXIST, which doesn't mean really coexist, just quit existing altogether, if you are anyone but the C.  Like 'tolerance' doesn't really mean being tolerant of people with unconventional ideas and lifestyles. I hope this clears everything up, for you.


One glance at the spotless stainless-steel counters and the professional-grade binoculars revealed the truth: 
only the most unspeakable dishes were prepared here.*
*(I'm going to put that line in the banner)

(Photo: Uncredited; Dwell)


Dozy Bint Confused About Must-Haves and Gadgets, or something

I would fisk this starry-eyed innocent abroad, myself, but the readers of her pasty blather do it so much better. Here is the  "explanation" for her choice of words. For what it's worth.
Okay, okay. You're all quite right. There are mortars and pestles of different varieties in use all over the world. I didn't mean to claim that the concept of mortar and pestle was unique to Gaza; I am sorry if it sounds that way. I meant the zibdiye as such, with that name and those particular materials: neighboring regional cuisines, otherwise similar in many ways, do not use it.

Nor did I mean the "must-have" part. That was sort of ironic, see. Cause whatever is in the Gaza Strip can't get out: the borders are closed, there are no exports, the economy is wallowing, you can't have it. Until some nostalgic and business-minded Palestinian in the US starts producing them there... if you come across one do let me know.

But this is not a consumer report, this is not about acquiring everything there is in the world. The choice to write about the zibdiye was sort of a literary device, a way of following one item in order to give an overview of the cuisine as a whole, and by extension something about this place which is so seldom seen as anything beyond a geopolitical problem.

I hope you will forgive my hyperbole in light of the broader intent.
Really, Ms. Schmitt? The Gaza Strip's economy wallowing?
Why, it's a regular concentration camp!
With a four-star restaurant. 
And a mall


Oh, the humanity.

Drop Everything and Sing Hallelujah, Wherever You May Be!

How I love Book Worm's Room. What a wit. And she's Jewish! I could just hang there all day.



When things get you down, when you feel like you are about to hit bottom, when you are just plain worn out by the baseness of the culture, it is the time to lift your heads up and remember one thing above all others. Life is all about singing Hallelujah. Glory to God in the Highest. Takes a world of weight off the shoulders. All this is passing. We aren't meant to keep our eyes focused on the sick and transitory gloria that is this mundi. It is a heavenly paean sung in the temple of commerce by a secular choir with the righteous and sincere joy of an angelic host. On the day before All Hallow's Eve, my brother's birthday...Happy 50th, old man! And the very same day another small child came into the world: Happy Birthday young Garret Matthew Huacani! God bless us, one and all.

Hallelujah Chorus Hymn

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

The kingdom of this world
Is become the kingdom of our Lord,
And of His Christ, and of His Christ;
And He shall reign for ever and ever,
For ever and ever, forever and ever,

King of kings, and Lord of lords,
King of kings, and Lord of lords,
And Lord of lords,
And He shall reign,
And He shall reign forever and ever,
King of kings, forever and ever,
And Lord of lords,
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

And He shall reign forever and ever,
King of kings! and Lord of lords!
And He shall reign forever and ever,
King of kings! and Lord of lords!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Hallelujah!

Wednesday, November 3, 2010