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All commentary Copyright Stonestead.com, 2007. No part may be reproduced without permission. All statements within are the express view of the author and not necessarily those of his employeer, his clergy, his spouse, his friends or even himself.

So what did I do on this penultimate day of April, 2009? Well, one thing I didn't do was go into the office as would usually be scheduled. No. Instead, I slept in ever-so-little and then drove The Wif to the airport. That's right -- gave her the walking papers and sent her on her way. But can you blame me? She said that Pete Best was a better drummer than Ringo ever would be, so off she goes! I mean, the NERVE of that woman!!

Well, no; of course not, (but I hope you chuckled). (And for the record, I've never been much impressed by Ringo's 'skillz.' Quick mind? Check. Acting ability? Near-check. Drumming? Well - he can count to four in an even pace, if that's what you need. And apparently it was.)

As it turned out, I had a bunch of leave to burn and The Wif was invited to an elbow-rubbing session with some bigwigs in Washington. Kismet! So I was able to snatch an extra hour of sleep just when I needed it most. That is, just before I'm not going to get ANY sleep because I'm the sole monster-wrangler.

Apparently I've at least proven my abilities at monster-wrangling because she didn't leave a novella of what I'm supposed to do during her absence. She did of course remind me of the things she'd LIKE to see addressed, (*WINK* *WINK*) during her time away, but she was WAAAA-YYYY off...

Actually, I spent most of today (Wed) on the road, going back and forth to the airport, then running to the store(s) to get some gardening supplies. No, I still don't have a garden but I'm getting there in pieces and I figure a pumpkin patch is a decent first step. Mind you, I still need some 2X's or 4(or more)X's to make it happen, but I think I can get it done today. Just need the right location and I think I've got it.

Additionally, I spray-sealed each of the kids' painted potted strawberry plants and set them outside. I then transplanted D-Man's bean plant into a pot I'd just purchased and put it out there as well. Then watered them all, including a number of peas I'd planted in a large container that sits on the front porch.

Did I mention that I don't have a garden? Did it just sound like I contradicted myself? Believe me, I don't and I didn't.

Following that I mowed/cursed the back yard. I then watered the front yard and seeded the back yard. Do you have any idea how little ground can be covered by 50 dollars of grass seed? I do. I then fertilized the back, found and unrolled the hose to water it and set out to soak my tiny portion of this blue pearl.

Tomorrow will be spent buying and/or constructing the aforementioned pumpkin patch. It will be a huge disappointment to the kids -- except for the fact that they actually GREW the bloody things, because they're seen a real, hundreds-acre pumpkin patch and ours will necessarily pale in comparison. Still, the foot-tall plant has to go somewhere other than the yogurt cup it currently occupies.

On Friday I'll have the Knuckleheads with me all day but they won't be able to go outside because of the fresh grass seed, (and mud), and won't be allowed downstairs because (OH, KREP -- I forgot that "repair my craft cabinet" was on my list!), she's cleaning out the downstairs' bedroom from being the 10X10 equivalent of a "junk drawer" into being an actual Guest Room. (Like I want guests.) Then, I have to take the guys to get My Lovely Daughter, (hint of possible nickname change from "M" to MLD), and then hike out to the airport to reunite the entire family.

This could be interesting. Did I mention that I'm taking time off for the rest of this week...?

OK - I have a confession to make here: the title above was intended to serve a certain purpose with a distinct idea/theme. Mainly that of the "rock group" "Europe's" "hit single," "Eve of Destruction." But the extensive use of quotation marks has worn out my pinky fingers so we'll have to move on to something else at this point. Which is too bad because I'd like nothing more than to imagine all my friends walking around all day humming, "WE'RE ON THE EVE -- OF DESTRUCTION!"

Oh, wait. You will be now anyway. SCHWEEET...

In other news, I somehow discovered what I think is the perfect way to describe my Best Friend in only two words. Now, this is not something that anyone actually thinks about unless they're on the Newlywed game or "coming out" (OUCH - my pinky!) to that person and none of that is true in my case. Like usual, I just had a phrase jump into my skull and thought, "well, that's Dood."

The phrase? "Fanatical Pragmatist." Like I said, it's not like I spent all morning composing Odes in his honor. To be perfectly truthful, I don't imagine he was any more on my mind than I was on his this morning. Life; Work; Home; Family; Bad punctuation -- we got other things going on!

Still, "Fanatical Pragmatist" leapt into my mind - for some reason - and I immediately thought, "that's Dood!" (I imagine some of you have these experiences as well; I feel sorry for you.)

I love the phrase because first of all, it fits. And it fits like little else could, (but we'll see what next week brings into my mind). It's also very ironic and in only two words! Fanaticism and Pragmatism aren't often paired. And never in such levels. He truly is a wonder and I think that this is the primary of the reasons that I love the guy: he cuts to the quick with an efficiency I've never seen matched. Even when I "seemingly" exposed him and some fabricated travel plans, his answer was, "well, it's his site - he can say what he wants."

I can't explain to you what that meant to me.

Then again...

The reason I've taken a day or two to mention this is that I'm kinda worried he'll return the favor and, "wrap me up" in just two words, too. And one of those words would probably be synonymous with "sphincter muscle."

The other word might be "arrogant" or "presuming" or something I'm unable to type here.

But I doubt that...

Let's re-visit a few things that you should already know about your humble host: I LOVE technology. Even to the point where I rely on it - and my love and knowledge of it - to put Mac-N-Cheese on the table here at The Stonestead (2.0). I love the gadgets and the inter-connectedness of, say, my ability to watch stored movies on my computer while simultaneously checking out the movie's stars or Wiki entry in another window. If I could find a way to play the good songs from the soundtrack on my phone at the same time, ... well ... we'd probably run out of Mac-N-Cheese. Because I would no longer be employable...

And speaking of my phone, I absolutely LOVE it as well. Probably the best gift - aside from herself and the kids - that I've ever received from The Wif: I can watch YouTube videos from anywhere on earth, keep up with the guys I read online, (most of them, anyway -- WEP, PEOPLE!), and even, sometimes when circumstances are desperate, can make and receive phone calls on it. (What will they think of next?!?)

So I think my bone fides are not only in order, but they've been scanned, stored on the hard drive and sorted by age. But also indexed so they could easily be sorted by size, should the need come up. I absolutely love what technology has given us. The "fruits of the tree" have indeed become more plentiful than what tree could ever have imagined. Right now my main complaint is one of integration. That is, I'd like to carry a personal device that can open/start my truck, browse the Interwebs, act as a spellchecker, take memos, change the channel on the TV, receive satellite radio, store/play/search for MP3's, carry my Netflix selections, learn my tastes (or lack thereof - yes, I hear you), track my kids via GPS, remotely shutdown The Wif's debit card if need be, sometimes allow a phone call through, speak to me entirely in Monty Python clips, (Caddyshack when golfing), and change the holographic color of the homes' outer walls.

Damn painter's lobby...

So yes, I love technology but I still have to do some things myself. Such is the life of Moderne Maan. Unless, of course, you're the un-tested, un-vetted and inexperienced President of The United States in 2009.

Now this is one of those circumstances that you're not likely to hear much about from anywhere else which is why I bring it up here. Now.

There was an interesting moment today when the POTUS had to correct the TOTUS, (President Of The United States and Teleprompter Of The United States, respectively), and ask for a speed-through of a section of text that the little o found himself repeating. Because it was on his screen.

This is telling for any number of reasons and I'll try to hit most of them. First off, this clown doesn't seem to know what he wants to say or have even the faintest idea of what his speech contains. He obviously RELIES on the teleprompter to carry his speech or lead the meeting. That's pretty flippin' sad, but not news on any level.

The fact is that he's LONG been known to rely on the words of others - projected rather than memorized, (who could be bothered?) - and it's been a topic of mocking ridicule among those who think more like me than like he. In fact, there is even a Twitter account and blog run by a guy (presumably) who calls himself BO_Teleprompter, (funny stuff, BTW).

Knowing this - and he certainly HAS to know this - shouldn't he wean himself from the screens? But no. Either he thinks that, well, thinking is above his pay grade or he thinks that he's able to smooth-talk his way - once the words are fed to him - out of any mess. Which speaks volumes of what he thinks about you. And that's the other thing:

Can anyone. EVER. Imagine giving a speech - especially after being ridiculed for an over-reliance on a teleprompter - and then asking the 'prompters operators to 'skip ahead' because the text was off? I'd like to say that mere act defines arrogance, but it's actually a symptom of said arrogance.

Because he hadn't read the text, had little or no idea of what he was there to say and was left stranded once the speechwriters' words were no longer in front of him. This guys READS well, but thinking? Not so much.

No wonder the LSM loves him...

Ahhhh... Today is Thursday - and I'm off. Well, to be perfectly fair I'm "off" most days, but I'm using it in the sense that I'm not responsible to punch a gubermint clock today. But in the sense that, "I'm a slacker free of all responsibility?" Not so much...

See, my daughter will be in "testing" around mid-morning today - which is fine on any number of levels: it's a reading test and she can read better than I can write, (like THAT'S difficult! HA!) Plus, it's mid-morning rather than early morning, so we can both sleep in nearly as long as we'd like; (she: 8:30. Me: Tuesday).

But we'll meet on common ground - or rather "previously agreed to" ground - by agreeing to show up together at her classroom for my Girl's test. Which means one-half hour or so of her locked behind closed door while she proves what she, the teacher and I already know: she can read like a Monkey-Flyer, (to quote an Interweb meme on a TV edit of a movie that involves snakes being released on an airplane). (And how very much I LOVE this age!)

After that, I will drop her off at day care. Because they're expecting her, after all...

AND then after that, I'll have a few moments to myself, which will either be spent in acquiring new potted plant technology, (like pots, plants and soil), or will be spent re-arranging bits of our landscape. Then again, if I'm the least bit sane I'll go home, set the alarm on my phone, take a nap and wake up in time to make the appointment with my Doc in Evergreen in the early afternoon. I'll take whatever I decide, because even though I'm in the majority in the decision, my body/condition/allergies have a minority vote.

Truth is, I'm about to ignore them like the dems ignore the center-right. "Who needs them anyway?"

I'll have to track down the WebMD link that was sent to me regarding the condition I've been preliminarily diagnosed with, in order to see if I can actually be diagnosed with it. If so, I'm afraid that my last line of defense will be to file a workers' comp claim in order to have the air/chair/desk/hall/building/office officially tested. I HATE this idea.

I don't want to be a troublemaker. I don't want to be the mole that pokes his head up out of the hole only to have it smacked by a hammer. But I'm finally backed into a corner: by the time the lunch break rolls around, my eyes start itching and watering. Not an hour later my lungs feel as if they've been filled with sand, my head compacts and I can neither breathe nor breathe. The description I read says something like, 'after about 4-6 hours of exposure to the irritant...' Well, what do you know? My lunch break comes about 4-6 hours after my arrival in the office.

Good to know, but krep. Just KREP.

I'm going to have to file a claim; there's just no way around it - aside from getting another job. I can't continue this way. I interact with my office chums all day long and even the smartest or most broadly-promoted among them can't seem to grasp the fact that I'm fine in the morning and going through Hell by afternoon.

The bad news is that - even though I seem to be the only one bothered by it for now - it could possibly be only "for now." That is, I could be the canary in the mine shaft.

Which is exactly what I need right now . Then again, if the claim solves my problem -- either of them -- it could not only be a great relief, but also a pre-treatment for the others in my office who are obviously exposed to the same poisons that I've been "experiencing" for some time now.

(Not to be confused with the 80's band, "Poison," which I've actively avoided since their inception...)

Uggh. Let me start by saying that if you think you hate hearing me write about the little o, well, that's NOTHING compared to how I feel about feeling that I HAVE to write about this clown; he's such a blundering wonder that one can only wonder as to how he rose to power in the first place.

That is, unless you actually study his background instead of his skin color...

This guy is - well, I'd say Tabula Rosa - but that's not true: he's not a blank slate because he's already been imprinted upon by domestic terrorists, political pitbulls and the Chicago Machine, just to name a few. And when I say "imprinted upon" you should read: MOLDED AND SHAPED!

So the recent - and latest - reversal in policy, (we've seen enough of these to convince us that he has NO moral rudder, right?), to "go after" Bush Administration Officials because they authorized severe interrogation techniques is just a reed shaken by the wind, right?

I mean, if The One and that sorry excuse for a press secretary of his can pass the buck to DOJ, they're responsible if it works and off the hook if it doesn't. Right? Me and my side will own (for now) the phrase, "plausible deniability" but if you can't recognize it when you see it, then you're not being honest.

The problem is, this whole idea of going after a former President and his Administration for legal opinions and decisions based upon those legal decisions is BEYOND McCarhy-istic. It's Stalin-istic. No doubt about it: you do things we disagree with, we will prosecute you to the furthest extent of the law. Thank GOD we don't execute our political adversaries - although that might work because I suspect "W" is MUCH quicker on the draw than o is.

Huunnmmmm...

Let's for now leave aside the most obvious; that George W prevented another attack on our country during his term; he left our country FAR safer than he found it.

Let's leave aside the next most obvious; Attorneys General serve at the pleasure of the President, (have we heard how many the little o has released? Didn't think so).

And for the purposes of this conversation, let's just forgive the worst President of the 20^th century for his violation of the un-spoken 11^th Commandment - Thou Shalt Not Criticize A President That Follows You.

But this idiot has taken it a step further: McCarthy's spinning in his grave - because he was never powerful enough to bring charges against Truman The little o seems to think he is...

Well, The One has done it yet again: our first half-white President has held his first cabinet meeting. And after only a mere 3 months in office, too. Well, to be fair, he had to traipse around Europe and apologize for America being America, dole out 7-11 gifts to world leaders and bow to the saudi king.

So he had a pretty full plate.

Still, the way the LSM has been swooning over this guy - and the fact that EVERYthing he ever does is a "first" - you'd think that maybe, just maybe, it might be noted that a full quarter of a year has passed and The One hadn't yet met with his full cabinet.

Although - again, in an effort to be fair - one has to wonder how many of those cabinet posts are still vacant. Most of them are probably still revising their returns to figure out how much they owe in back taxes. So they were probably unable to achieve a quorum anyway, right?

Along those same lines, I think I've figured out the little o's plan for fiscal solvency - and for once I don't think I've mentioned it here. Give me a second to research that...

...

OK. It seems that I haven't yet imparted this bit of wisdom upon this little corner of the Interwebs, so here goes:

As long as this democrat President continues to appoint democrats to important positions in his administration, we will continue to hear about how they haven't paid their taxes, (there's been like, what - 6 of them already?). In the process of being confirmed they will have to admit this, amend their returns and then - Viola! - pay the taxes they owe, (although I doubt they'll be stuck with penalties and interest).

See, taxes are something they applaud and regulate and raise JUST SO LONG as they're being paid by the Hoi Polloi. The dems wouldn't dare to lower themselves to actually PAY the taxes they espouse for everyone else. That's what makes this just such a genius move! Nominate dems, vet them before the senate, discover that they haven't paid their taxes and then once they come under fire for it, they're finally coerced into paying their "fair share!" Brilliant!

So in this light, I encourage every American to greet a new nomination to the administration as a "revenue stream." It seems to be how things actually work.

When I really want to, I can screw things up. And when I'm not trying to, I can REALLY screw things up. See, I'm trying to get caught up on the kid pics. It's not easy work and it gets more difficult every time I pull out the camera. The software - and the clock, I suppose - aren't exactly allies in this project; they team up against me with equal ferocity and opportunity.

I had thought I was about to make progress, when I suddenly realized that Mother's Day is but mere days away, so I had to start another project. Namely, I decided to put together a picture CD for the kids' biological grandmother. Easy enough, right? Just pop in the disk, Windows will open (if asked nicely enough), a 'burn to CD' folder. Then just drag the pics/movies you want on the disk into the folder and click Start. No problem.

Now, you will all remember my professed love for The Netflix: great site, wonderful concept, fantastic business model. They are the best. The Stonestead is subscribed at a level that allows us to have 3 discs at a time, with no monthly limit as to how many we get during a month - so long as we only have 3 at once. (Stick with me - I actually have a point. For once.)

So last week I get an email from The Netflix telling me that they've shipped the next movie on my list. This made NO sense because I still had the last one in my possession, and since I have my queue, The Wif has her queue and the kids have theirs - and each one of us still had a disc out, NOBODY was due another movie. This was just wrong.

My only guess is that they were trying to entice me to jump into the next-higher level plan by demonstrating what it would be like if I were able to have 2 movies at once.

Let me tell you something: the LAST thing I need - aside from some debilitating disease - is 2 movies at the same time. I have a hard enough time deciding which movie I want to watch online while the disc is going back to them. Having two in my hands would probably stun me into pure paralysis.

But I digress...

Anyway, I'm in the middle of creating this pic disc and am about half-way there when I got my "bonus" movie yesterday. Did you know that if you take an empty disc out of the drive Windows will close your folder without asking you if you want to save it? Yeah, well I do. I knew it then and I actually watched the folder's contents disolve before my eyes as soon as I opened the drive. SAW IT HAPPEN.

And yet still did it. All together now: (_8-(|) D'OH!!

Well, it came time that I was taught a lesson, so I can't be surprised that I was, I guess.

See, we signed The Kunckleheads up for for hockey and before today they've done a vast total of 1 week in the last 3: opening Sunday they played, but then they were canceled due to weather and the following week due to Easter. So maybe you can see where I was coming from...

They schedule a "floor hockey" class, held outside, starting in early April - so that they can cancel most of the classes and still cash the checks. Better yet, they invite the parents to bring their sticks so they can feel involved while they cancel every other class.

After the "same-sex marriage" charade, it's the perfect money-making scheme!

So I entered Sunday morning with the full expectation that hockey would be canceled. Again. After all, that seems to be not only the pattern but the business model. So imagine my shock when they announced that they had finally - FINALLY - decided to hold class no matter what the weather may bring; if it were cold or if snow was still around, they would move the hockey into the gym.

SSSSSCCCCEEEEE!!! THERE'S A GYM?!?!!

Sweet Merciful Crap! When did THAT happen?!? You mean 3, 4 & 5 year old "floor hockey" might actually take place on an actual floor instead of outside on the concrete? How is such a thing possible?!?

Actually, I've discovered that the difference between "floor hockey" and "ice hockey" is; first; the ice or lack thereof. Second, "floor hockey" uses a ball instead of a puck. Although I did see a foam puck grace the floor of the gym today, but that's a different story.

As for the gym itself, well, I'm starting to see why floor hockey takes place outside. The place was stifling hot and we had to literally peel the boys' gear off of them once they were done. I can't WAIT until The Wif actually comes to understand what these athletic outings cost in terms of human, parental nasal tissue damage.

I still dream of a day where I have either shelves or hooks in the garage to store the various equipment bags we'll use: one for hockey, (check!), one for football, one for soccer, and yeah, even one for (*gulp*) baseball.

We'll have the stinkiest garage in history. Until the boys need Cups. Then it'll mean 15 of 16 loads of laundry every week; I'll buy a pair of shin pads per sport, but only a Cup per kid.

If you have questions about that, ask the man in your life. He should understand...

A quick note: it was not unexpected, but I finally heard it given voice tonight. That is, I heard - as regards our GIGUNDUS tax return - "... and to buy the mini-van..." Which I expected, but still, I suddenly felt the scissors in a place they should never be. And if you want to argue that it was a scalpel, I'd tell you that this was a blunt cut rather than a surgical strike.

Just to stretch the metaphor as far as it can possibly go...

Yikes.

Four high school boys afflicted with spring fever skipped morning classes. After lunch they reported to the teacher that they had a flat tire.

Much to their relief she smiled and said, "Well, you missed a test today so we'll arrange a make-up test. Please take seats apart from one another and take out a piece of paper."

Still smiling, she waited for them to sit down. Then she said: "First Question: Which tire was flat?"

Well, I have to say that I'm pleasantly - but only partially - surprised: it seems that the LSM did actually deign to report on the TEAparties that took place across the nation on tax day. And they, from what I can tell, made at least a half-hearted effort to express the concerns of the partiers. About which I can say that it at least beats their usual "no-hearted" efforts.

The thing that kills me is that during the Million Man March the media took the absolute highest estimate of the number of attendees and ran with that. Then, during the lame-arsed follow-up "million mom march" they did the same; sometimes reaching crowd estimates well into seven figures even though saner heads placed the number at about half of what they reported.

Similarly, when 2 dozen acorn nuts, (READ: "Friends of barry"), are soros-paid to hop on a bus and harass corporate CEO's at their home, it's a "grassroots movement" or a "public groundswell of revolt" to the LSM. Yeah, right.

But the TEAparties were largely reported as being, "carefully orchestrated" or, "heavily manipulated" events. Does anyone else see how Orwellian this country has become? White is black and up is left. I still find myself shaking my head when I see these types of things happen: the acorn events are staged for media coverage in the hopes of creating much fist-waving and the protesters are PAID TO BE THERE! The TEAparties are a grassroots movement, fueled by an ardent desire to change the tax-our-grandchildren-into-oblivion policies of the current administration! Oh sure they posted information about the meetings on the Interwebs, but you can hardly call that an "organized" venue.

Hell, they even let ME on there...

One of the more amusing aspects of the coverage was provided by an absolute Ditz Airhead from cnn. (I don't watch that dreck, but I heard the clip several times on the radio) The Ditz In Question (DIQ) approaches a man and reads his sign which was something like, 'down with higher taxes, down with socialism.' The DIQ then points out that he's there with his 2-year-old child, (because exposing a child to Conservative ideas is CLEARLY child abuse), and asks him why he's there.

He responds that since barry so likens himself to Lincoln, he'd like to point out that Lincoln's primary objective was to secure freedom and liberty for all Americans. And before he can even finish his thought the DIQ interrupts with, "but what does that have to do with taxes?!"

Unfortunately, the man wasn't ready for this idiocy and started to re-frame his response. This was not a good thing and I can't blame him for being unprepared for the DIQ's ignorance. The correct response is that our Founding Fathers - Madison, Hamilton, Jefferson, Washington et. al. constantly argued that increasing taxation would, by definition put limitations on an individual's liberty. The point should be painfully obvious to anyone with a working synapse in their brain: excessive taxation removes the freedom of that earner to do what they want with the fruits of their own labors.

The DIQ's response was especially informative. She replied, 'do you know that Lincoln's home state received over 4 million dollars (unsure of the exact amount but sure of the comment - ed.) in "stimulus" money?'

Ah -- so to be "free" is now defined by how much money is forcibly removed from the taxpayer and sent off to another state. Thank you. That's an important insight.

Important, and very, very scary. Anybody still left wondering why they don't teach Civics any more?

Well, once again this week, I jumped the gun - this time it concerns my taxes. Oh, we're still due the same gigantic refund, but my initial submission was rejected. Why? Because the kids' names didn't match their numbers. So they caught me a year earlier than I expected them to. Fine. Good, actually.

So I re-open my file and change the names to match the numbers. That should do it, right? Well, not so much. It seems that there's still a name/number mismatch because that error came back upon resubmission. And in trying to correct that, I read the second - NEW - error: the number I used was associated with a child already claimed as a deduction on "another filer's" return.

You can well imagine the very first thought that passed through my mind but I'll tell you anyway: And they wondered why we were applying for new numbers for the kids.

The software instructed me to call the KGB IRS and request assistance. )Heck - I could have done that from the beginning and saved the $30 bucks!) So I called with the anticipation of waiting on the phone for most of the day and was pleasantly surprised when an "agent" answered within about 5 minutes. I explained what was going on and she said, "hold on - I'll transfer you to accounts."

Which I then expected would take most of the morning. Fortunately, my wait for "accounts" wasn't any longer than my initial wait and I again explained my dilemma without conveying my suspicions.

I was told that it was probably due to a "typo" on someone else's return and was reassured that they would still process OUR return. Then, we would receive a letter asking us to verify that our information was correct. We were NOT to respond to that letter, (which goes against every grain of common sense and fear I've ever possessed). Instead, we're supposed to wait until we receive a second letter - the one requesting documentation - and THEN respond.

But the more I thought about it, the more questions arose. For example: if, when I used the name that didn't match the number my return was rejected, how could this mystery person's return contain a typo? And why did I get the "another has already claimed this child as a dependent" error only after the name and the number matched? Previously it was simply, "the number does not match the name." Strange -- perhaps.

I think - although I'm withholding, (a little tax pun), final judgment - that my worst fears have come to pass and that should the Social Security Administration (SSA) deny our request for new numbers I have Fair Dinkum to make them change their minds. I hate to think it's so, but I'll have to hold out for further proof one way or the other.

Either way, the race is on: will the KGB IRS be faster in requesting documentation or will SSA come through with new numbers in the new names first? Place yer bets!

I suspect that in all of my criticism of the little o I've lost a few readers. Frankly, I'm OK with that: this was never meant to be a "Please All People At All Costs" website because such a thing would surely close down after a mere week of effort: all people CANNOT be pleased. First rule of economics (/politics).

I just find it funny how so much of the population - fueled by the LSM and higher ed - are so willing to accept as ABSOLUTE TRUTH that to criticize Republicans is right and just, but to criticize democrats is somehow out-of-bounds.

(And don't give me that krep about "they're all wrong," or "a pox on both their houses," because that only means that you don't believe anything. Not exactly the highest political ground to occupy.)

To which end I'd like to take on my latest target. Which is the media's latest target: The TEA parties which will be going on across the country today...

The historical allusion should be obvious to anyone who's completed a 5^th grade civics class and that's the spirit of today's parties - with a twist: they contain both the historical reference and an acronym: TEA - Taxed Enough Already. Pretty cool, no?

Of course the LSM is painting the TEA party participants as a minor, fringe bunch of kooks who simply don't recognize nor embrace the little o's "coolness." The truth is out there, if you care to find it. If you can still afford an Internet connection, just browse Townhall.com. You'll see what's going on.

If you want to...

Well, I've done it. I've filed my taxes. Honestly, I don't know what all the hoo-ha is about surrounding how much time it takes - I did both Federal and State returns this evening. I mean, sure if you're going to sit down with a pile of forms, a calculator and a pencil, I could see where this stuff might take forever. But who does that these days? Given the ubiquitous nature of tax software out there, anybody can do their own in an hour or so, providing they have just a few statements around. Heck - even the tax preparers have software they use to do the returns!

Of course, I've committed the very worst of all evils: the second worse being requesting the refund I'm due, and the very worst being due a large refund. No, check that: we're due a GIGANTIC refund. How big? $15,168! And that's just from the Feds. We're due another $700 from the State. That's within spitting distance, (if you're me), of 16 THOUSAND dollars!

For years I have preached the evils and naivety of getting a large refund, because its basically a year-long interest free loan to Uncle Sam and that's just not a wise use of your money. (I know, you've heard it all before.)

So what happened to make me such a schmuck? Well 3 things: "M" D-Man and The Bink. See, we both - The Wif & I - forgot to adjust our withholding after the adoptions were final. That means they were withholding WAY too much taxes - obviously - from our pay. The good news is that unless I fall under some sort of little o reverse-stimulus plan, I'll see the money again.

The bad news is that we could've made much better use of that money had we been in possession of it throughout the year. The other bad news is that I need to review our recently-adjusted withholding to make sure that we're getting an extra $500 per pay period, (I know, "boo hoo"). But the worst news is that a refund of that size is sure to get us on the Überlords' radar. Even better, I don't have the older two's new SSN's, so I had to file with their current ones. Since the numbers don't match the name, that's sure to send up more red flags than a Chinese parade.

And if it doesn't happen this year, it's sure to happen next when I file with the new numbers. Of course, hoping that someone at the KGB IRS with half a brain will compare this year's return to last years and see that we've acquired 3 young'uns in that time is hoping for too much.

After all, who knows which office has the half a brain they all share?

Well is interesting but not unexpected that the LSM would louse up even the simplest of news stories. Still I should have known better, so shame on me for even thinking I could believe anything they say. My fault, really. So I'm going to chalk this up to a learning experience: from now on I'm not going to believe anything I see or read or hear that the LSM has been close enough to to get their fetid stench on.

I'm serious. If I see a news story about ducklings separated from their mother because they were unable to cross a busy street I'm not going to believe it until those ducklings are on my plate and covered in orange sauce...

What I'm talking about is my faint praise of the little o yesterday. I was under the impression that he actually said something to the effect (after 5 days, mind you) of, "take 'em out." And he was really talking about the muslim pirates and not the kennedy dog.

GUESS AGAIN! Updated information seems to point to the fact that he had to dragged to the rather lame reaction of, "do, uh, do, um, what you, um, uh, feel you uh, have to, uh, do." I can only guess that the Navy Seal team - after having these scumbags in their sites since shortly after the Captain was taken hostage - managed to send a Thank You card to 1600 upon hearing the news.

Why should I be surprised? It took this clown almost six months to get a dog for his girls -- and even then he didn't make the decision, the mutt was a gift. Criminey - Hopey McChange sure is changing things: we went from the "decider in chief" to, "let me get back to you on that."

I can only guess he's trying to leave things unfinished in an effort to get re-elected: "I'm the only one who knows where we are on the important question of what to order for lunch!"

OK. That's kind of the sentiment I meant even if I mis-quoted the original phrase; which is, "even a broken clock is right twice a day." Of course, the way I used it is so completely off-the-mark, since a stopped clock is wrong every other time except for two seconds in a day, but I think you get my point. Which is, even I can be wrong now and then.

So I'm happy to announce that my President finally did something right: he apparently authorized - twice - a strike against the dingy carrying the American Captain being held hostage by four muslim pirates. And from the "Credit Where Credit Is Due" department, good for him.

I'm willing to set aside, (but mention all the same), the fact that it took DAYS for him to act, he acted "unilaterally" (which is supposed to be a very, very BAD thing), and the fact that he first kowtowed to kerry's "international test" before getting off the dime. It got done - finally - and that's a very good good thing in a bunch of ways.

Maybe - just maybe - if these muslim pirates get the idea that ship-jacking will end up in a rather unceremonious burial at sea, we'll see fewer of them. More importantly, if this sort of thing happens again and we respond in similar fashion, (more quickly, God Willing), we might be able to make the seas safe for American shipping vessels.

Even more importantly, as the little o basks in the victory he's obtained, maybe it will goad him toward making this same decision - faster - if there is a next time. After all, he's about to receive all the credit for the rescue even though he did nothing more than make a phone call or two. And YES. I understand that it's not the job of the President to grab a sniper rifle and spirit off to the theater of action to tend to the trouble. But that's what it's going to sound like as the LSM forms this story. (Call me on it if I'm wrong.)

And, BTW - it's also not the job of the President to go around the globe badmouthing his own country, but he seems to have mastered that pretty quickly, (probably took lessons from the first lady), so why not hand him an AR-15 and stick him on a plane?

Still, I'm happy to see the Captain freed and in a sense I can't explain any better than I've already tried, (strange for me), happy to see him freed by force resulting in the death of 75% of his captors. This can work in our favor.

If it's followed up on...

This one's for Bonehead:

A couple was having marital difficulties and consulted a marriage counselor. After meeting with them, the counselor told them that their problems could all be traced to a lack of communication. "You two need to talk," he said. "So, I recommend that you go to a jazz club. Just wait until it's time for the bass player to solo. Then you'll be talking just like everyone else."

A lawyer died and went to heaven on his forieth birthday. He was welcomed at the Pearly Gates by St. Peter himself.

St. Peter said congratulations on your 160th birthday! That's quite an accomplishment - how did you achieve it?

The lawyer said, "there's obviously been a mistake. I am only forty years old!"

St. Peter replied, "No, there's no mistake here: today is your 160th birthday."

But the lawyer insisted - "no, I know for a fact that I'm exactly 40 years old today! I got a big promotion at my firm in the morning, had lunch with the senior executive, caught my assistant in a 'compromising position' on my desk then came home and had wild, frantic sex with my wife to celebrate my birthday. It was a VERY memorable day and I KNOW it was my 40th birthday!"

St. Peter considers this, reviews his records while humming "Stairway To Heaven" and finally says, "Ah-HA! I have the answer! See, instead of reviewing your record from your birth date to today we were reviewing the records from your law office. Your birth record does indeed prove that you are merely 40 years old. It's your billing records that say you're 160!"

(That one's just for me. HBTM... HBTM... HBDM!... HBTM.)

First: don't worry in the least about this posts' title. The latter part is about a Netflix I'm watching...

It seems my kids will finally get the chance to meet one of their female cousins tonight, since my brother and his youngest daughter are in town. Now, I hereby announce that this child - should she ever be mentioned again, (a pretty good bet), will be nicknamed "Grace." That's not very imaginative because it was almost her given name, but I'm going to stick with it all the same.

Grace was born WAY premature and WAY under weight, (a problem that I'm sure genetics will solve eventually), but managed to fight her way through. Obviously. Now, don't quote me on the numbers because I'm sure I've got them wrong but she was born at 7 1/2 weeks and weighed roughly 184 drams. Fortunately, with the metric-to-American exchange rate, that equates to about 22 weeks and 4 pounds.

*WHEW*!

Anyway, Grace and her Father are in town so that means the obligatory dinner. Somewhere. Sometime. I suggested we do the thing here for 3 reasons: a) my brother could see our new place; II) I might order pizza and get my pizza fix for the week, and; 3) I might witness - with my own eyes - exactly what shade of green he turns when he sees my pinball machine.

It's a brother thing. You may not understand it.

The 'family being untied' part of the title relates to the movie, Alexandra's Project, an Australian suspense/possible horror film I'm watching online through The Netflix. I'm only 15 minutes into it and it's already caught my attention. Of course...

OK. I have a real bad habit about watching movies. First off, I record them from disk onto my computer when I have the disk and stream them when I'm able, but that's not so bad. The problem is, I "read ahead" when watching a movie and that tend to complicate things. Let me explain.

I watch almost every movie I ever see now via my computer: the disk plays, the disk records and the movie streams - depending on the circumstance. As such, and given the fact that I'm a "plugged in" kind of guy, I tend to read the movie description before I see it - kind of like reading the back of the VHS box in a rental store - and then if the flick isn't moving fast enough, I go to either IMDB or Wiki or both, and read up on the movie at hand.

Now, I always try to read only to where I am in the movie but since any biped with a computer and opposable digits can edit a wiki page or write a review, I sometimes get ahead of myself and the ending is spoiled.

I HATE when that happens.

For the most part, this method helps to clear things up because I'm generally only able to watch a movie in 20-minute segments throughout a week. It works for most movies. But as for my current flick, well, I may have already read too much, (which is basically just the description). Then again, maybe the acting and direction have already setup the scenario so well that I would have caught on anyway.

Time will tell, but I'll tell you this for sure: it's not for everybody. More to follow - if the summary is any hint...

As I tweeted - or what may become known here as "AIT" -- not to be confused with the company that's a finance company receiving gubermint funds one day and then a publicly-derided insurance company the next only to learn that its a banking company that does all of the above the next day -- Well, what does it matter what I tweeted? Or for that matter, whether I tweeted at all? A mere 140 characters doesn't go much of a long way, does it?

Let's forget I said anything about that and just move on...

When I read this story I had an interesting thought. Which was, 'Holy Crow; given most of the 4-year-olds I know, (and I now know quite a few), you'd have to chain them to the couch and force-feed them sugar to make them obese, given their natural metabolism and energy levels.' I then realized that this is exactly what is happening and what is at the root of the problem they're discussing.

Seriously: all too many of us DO end up "chaining our children to the couch" via spongebob, hannah, guitar hero, the wii and any number of other things that keep kids from frolicking in the streets. Sure -- we ease our consciences by telling ourselves, 'it's a dangerous world,' but that only keeps us from keeping an eye on them. Doing our jobs, in other words. So they find an outlet the only way they can.

And they develop thumbs that are quite fit.

As for force-feeding them sugar, well that takes even less work on the parents' part. I mean, if you ask a child whether they'd prefer a piece of cheese or a brownie, they'll choose the brownie. If you demur, they'll settle on potato chips. "Sugar" is a child's default setting. And while a fat baby/toddler is preferred, pushing those habits much further is, well, a problem.

"Real food" comes from animals, people. If you forget that, just ask my kids -- whom I'm thankful at times share none of my genetic material.

I ordered a new book today. Three of them, actually. If my Twitter feed hadn't taken over the left sidebar I'd include them there, but WhaddyaGonnaDo?

I ordered, "King me: What Every Son Wants And Needs From His Father." (I'm not including links because I can only think of a single person who might benefit from such and she's plenty smart enough to get there on her own.) I also got, "Raising a modern-day Knight: A Father's Role In Guiding His Son to Authentic Manhood." Both for me, natch -- but I wouldn't slap The Wif's hand if I caught her reading them.

I guess I should say that I bought these books because I'm looking for guidance, but that's not the case: I know where I want to take these boys and I think I have some pretty good ideas on how to get there. So maybe I'm looking for affirmation?

Maybe; I honestly don't know. I guess it's closest to the truth to say that I'm just looking for/at other ideas to see if they hold water. If so - and if the author has any merit to lean upon - I'm likely to listen. Fortunately, The Wif and I seem to be on the same page in about 98% of things Re: Children, so without the argument the books seem redundant.

Still, I'm an information geek and as such will continue to read what I can and especially so if I think it will help my children. Least I can do, and all that rot.

OH - and I think I mentioned I bought 3 books but only brought up two of them. The third is, "Boys Should Be Boys: 7 Secrets to Raising Healthy Sons." That one's written by an M.D. who wrote another book about being a strong Father in order to raise a strong daughter. I got that one, too, so this one's for The Wif.

I'm going to read it before she does, natch...

So far, so weird...

The weekend passed in its normal fashion; abnormally. Friday was the last day of Spring Break so my daughter celebrated it by -- sleeping in. Thankfully. It was also my Friday off so there were only 2 wildcards in the mix: The Knuckleheads.

Up early, cranky early, breakfast late, a little something we call "snack lunch," no naps, (especially by the old guy who needed one the most), a movie at night and loads of sugar at bedtime.

Still didn't work to keep them in bed on Saturday. Natch.

Saturday saw D-Man's turn at Grandma's - after having mis-behaved his way of of it last week - and left me with a list and children 1 & 3. Actually, that's not completely true because having a list would have been a good idea. Instead I wandered around various stores hoping the kids would amuse each other long enough so that: a) I'd remember what I wanted, and, b) they wouldn't get us kicked out.

We accomplished half that mission, so I still need a list. Well, that's not completely true: most of my list consists of radios. Lots and lots of radios.

See, like most of you I have a collection of radios that I've accumulated through the years. Some I like more than others and some work better than others, (not always on the same list, BTW). But I've realized that not a single one of my current radios - save the one The Wif glomed onto - and certainly not the new NOAA capable one -- has digital tuning nor presets. This is a disgrace, frankly.

Worse yet, the "really, really cool" one I bought when we first moved in here can't pick up my station without a ton-and-a-half of bleed-through. Cranked up enough to hear the guy I want to hear, it blasts the other guy so loud the neighbor's shaving cream shakes to the floor. Not to mention the fact that my work radio picks up the static from Marconi's original broadcast better than it can find the station I dialed in.

So off to buy about 5 new, digitally-tuned high quality radios with at least 5 preset buttons - each programmed to the same 3 stations, (gotta keep a spare, right?). How many do you think I walked away with? That's right! Not a single one. Why should this be such an impossible task?!? Is this not America, after all? Land of opportunity and one of those opportunities should be the FRAGGIN' ABILITY TO FIND A RADIO THAT FILLS MY NEEDS!

Then again, it's such a new technology that I guess I should be patient while the merchants catch up...

Sunday was - as was Monday - interesting in a couple of ways as well: I rolled over in bed, barely aware that it was far too late to be making church service, to the beaming face of a very happy and well-rested 3-year-old. AAAAUUUGGGHH! HAPPY SQUID!!

Turns out that he had to be placed in our bed because he was crying. Now, here's the exact difference between Fathers and Mothers: Mothers come across a screaming child and immediately draw them closer; Fathers sometimes wander near a screaming child and think: a) is it mine? b) am I expected to do something about it? c) maybe if I leave it alone it'll figure it all out; and/or d) the LAST thing I want to do is invite it into my bed, (it's too bad we're not so discerning when we're dating, but there we are).

I guess I should be happy we woke up at nearly the same time and he didn't resort to his usual greeting...

But today brings with it some rather bad news: my brother's Father could be dying. Now I know - even given all the special circumstances out there - that this is not making much sense, so allow me to explain.

I have a friend - so alike me in almost every way and very beloved, and married to a woman so alike The Wif in almost every way, (and the gals have known each other forever) - that I call him my Brother. Or "Achee," which is "My Brother" in Hebrew. Because... well, that should be obvious: he's an Orthodox Jew, born in France, raised in Scotland and seriously injured in Lebanon while fighting for the IDF.

It's my hope that one day he might broaden his horizons a bit.

His Father is sick. Well, that's a bit of an understatement: he collapsed, was taken to the hospital, (or "to hospital" as Achee says), and there suffered a heart attack. As I write this, things look... -- ... well - who knows? Dad may yet pull through and give everyone all the grief they deserve for years on end. Then again...

All I know at this moment is that he's on his way over there, and soon. He's got 2 (of his 4) passports at the ready and I called to make sure he knew I'd look after his family here as best I was able. It's strange saying, "call me," in this circumstance without making it feel like an obligation, but I'm sure we understood each other.

In re-reading this, it sounds like I'm blowing my own horn. I'm not trying to. Believe me, I'm as fallen, fallible and as much a failure as was ever put on this earth. I'm just trying to look out for a friend, doing exactly what I know he would do, and asking for prayers from those so inclined to do so:
Blessed be your name, Adoni; please protect your chosen and may your will be done for Chaim's earthly Father. Please bless Chaim's journey and let us help the family however you direct us. Tread upon my heart. Show my feet the path. Selah.

In response to the response: I have NO interest in turning this into an anti-little-o blog. Quite the contrary, actually. I'd love to leave him alone, but he doesn't seem to want to return the favor. So as he stumbles so shall I point it out. Because sometimes it seems that I'm the only one out here doing it -- but I know better: they're plenty more of us out there. So take that!

A military cargo plane, flying over a populated area, suddenly loses power and starts to nose down. The pilot tries to pull up, but with all their cargo, the plane is too heavy. So he yells to the soldiers in back to throw things out to make the plane lighter. They throw out a pistol. "Throw out more!" shouts the pilot. So they throw out a rifle.

"More!" he cries again.

They heave out a missile, and the pilot regains control.

He pulls out of the dive and lands safely at an airport. They get into a jeep and drive off. Pretty soon they meet a boy on the side of the road who's crying. They ask him why he's crying and he says "A pistol hit me on the head!"

They drive more and meet another boy who's crying even harder. Again they ask why and the boy says, "A rifle hit me on the head!"

They apologize and keep driving. They meet a boy on the sidewalk who's laughing hysterically. They ask him, "Kid, what's so funny?" The boy replies, "I sneezed and a house blew up!"

Well he’s at it again; the bumbler-in-chief surely must be trying to sever relations with our oldest and staunchest ally, Great Britian. I’m not quite ready to completely buy that theory and I’ m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe that he’s simply incompetent. It ’s an interesting circumstance when incompetence is the lesser of two evils, but here we are.

I’m sure you won’t know this unless you read it here or seek it out since the media lapdogs dare not speak ill of The One; (that could be an interesting little experience – deciding which LSM “star” is what breed of dog. katie is a teacup terrier, olberwuss a French Poodle, matthews a big, brainless, dopey-looking bulldog, etc...). Remember the “fantastic” gift of 25 DVDs that won’ t play on English DVD players? Well, he’s outdone even that one...

Upon being presented to The Queen he gave her… an ipod. Yep – sprung for the whole one hundred dollars on that one. But WAIT! He – or someone who can work the thing – loaded it up with photos and videos of The Queen’s visit to America. That’s got to count for something, right?

Here ’s the rather interesting thought that hit me after learning this: given his rather over-the-top “ascension” at Mile High and all the screens, monitors and cameras and the DVDs and now the films on an ipod I think it points to something. Something significant about the man’s character: I think it’s – if not proof of it’s a strong indication of – the fact that this president is all about appearances. There’s not a single micro-dram of substance to the man. As long as he looks good and is surrounded by teleprompters so he won’t stammer his audience into a deep sleep, he’s fine with that.

Unfortunately, 53 million Americans were fine with that, too…

And, BTW, wasn’t this guy supposed to be the Great Diplomat? Wasn’t he supposed to spread love and goodwill for Americans all ‘round the globe? Wasn’t he supposed to be the smartest candidate we’ve ever seen? And the guy can’t manage a ceremonial gift exchange without stepping in the bucket. And as for goodwill, you should see the comments on foreign newspapers' websites:

Obama makes George W. Bush look like a bloody genius!

AAAAGGGG...
This clown is a moron. The freaking QUEEN of England, and he gives her a stupid electronic gimmick--a trinket that was obsolete before his arrogant a** got on AF1.
At least GW Bush knew a few things about the world outside, and knew how to interact with heads of state.

The US president is a dreadful cur, with no appreciation for history or former relationships in the world. Even the dumb American people with [sic] grow to detest the very mention of his name. It will take a little while, however, because they have been so dumbed down by the educational system.

So this is increased ‘international respect? ’ I’d rather be feared if this is love.

Here we go. Now, I'm not talking about the so-called, "ransom virus" that's the latest threat to bring down the Interwebs; we see these things all the time, they're vastly overrated, thwarted quickly and off front pages before anyone reads the front page. Besides, how smart is this guy that he's going to demand payment so you can access your files? How would that work, exactly?

So you've taken my files hostage and I have to pay you to get to them? That's right. OK - so what's your name and bank information so I can send you the money? Johann Struebbner, Bank of Austria, account number 328475. Got it - be right with you... Hello, Interpol?

Yeah - there's a successful business model there...

Actually, that was a pretty good - if inadvertent - segue into what I'm talking about: the gubermint's inability to run a successful ANYTHING. I mean, a bunch of bureaucrats - most of whom have never managed more than a lemonade stand and fooling 51% of their districts - maybe - are suddenly auto makers, bankers and insurance experts? Are you KIDDING me?!?

The gubermint can't manage to balance a budget, handle money responsibly, educate children, fund the arts, calculate revenue... HELL, with the single exceptions of NASA and the military, there's a whole bunch of nothing that the gubermint does well.

(And those associated with the institutions I excluded will sometimes tell you that there's still plenty of room for improvement there, too.)

So where does the little o get off firing the head of General Motors, or demanding that they restructure according to his vision of what they should look like? Further, how the HELL would he ever actually know ANYTHING about how they should re-structure? I thought he was a "community organizer," not a corporate organizer!

Now I understand the argument that since the gubermint is giving them the money to stay afloat they should be able to call the shots. I understand it being laid out by small minds who have no grasp of finance or Capitalism, I should say: the gubermint has no money - IT'S ALL YOURS!!

Besides, the money GM is getting is being labeled as loans, (we'll see). To any normal person with the ability to grasp reality, what's being done is this: you go and borrow money to buy a house. The lender checks you out and decides to lend you the money. You both sign a contract and you get the money. And then the mortgage company CEO comes by and tells you to get rid of your dog because, after all, they lent you the money and he doesn't like sheepdogs.

Now tell me how I'm wrong and this is different. I double-dog dare you.

At first, I was slightly amused at this prententer-in-chief because he seemed so bloody incompetent and inexperienced at everything, things couldn't help to go wrong and put egg on all the dems' faces. So far, so good. The problem is that all these clowns actually have power and the ability to affect real damage on the American economy for years to come.

I mean, barney, "brothel in my basement" frank is in charge of anything more powerful than the supply of ballpoint pens? Really? Could I get a Mulligan on this?

What's so dreadful, (and repugnant), is his more recent statements that indicate the congress will undertake efforts to limit the pay of ALL CEOs in the country, whether or not those entities they lead accept gubermint money. What?!? Seriously - what business is it of mine, yours or his how much money CEOs make? Don't like it? Buy stock and vote 'em out. Think a company is gauging you or engaging in monopolistic practices? Buy stock and get in on the profits.

The last - VERY LAST - thing that should ever happen is a gubermint entity stepping in to limit the pay of corporate officials. Especially given the fact that they've not only made their (very good) living off the public teat, but voted themselves pay raises and put them on auto-pilot. It's disgusting.

A bunch of lawyers who live like mini Caesars off the sweat and toil of others while many haven't ever had to make a payroll, produce a product, market and sell that product or be held accountable to anyone other than the rubes in their precincts are suddenly smart/knowledgeable/experienced enough to run the country's largest businesses? Puh-leeze.

Besides, the gubermint is bound to go with the lowest bidder. Wait a minute - I think that explains the current administration and congress...