Monday, June 30, 2003

After this lunacy in Orange County, I wonder which will come first: a protest of the monthly "Highlander" marathon at the Cineplex, or a Million Mom March to ban swords? Hmm...

Friday, June 27, 2003

The Supreme Court signs off this session with a dubious decision, siding with the University of Michigan in allowing admission policies that judge an applicant's skin color. As expected, it was a contentious split decision, 5-4 with Justice O'Connor leaning with the liberal wing of the bench. I think this is one call she'll reflect upon ruefully in retirement.

Here's a quote from Democratic Congressman Patrick Kennedy of Rhode Island, speaking before a group of young liberal acolytes in Washington. I think it sums up the arrogance and callousness of wealthy liberals who don't understand that tax cuts are actually beneficial to the poor and downtrodden they claim to care sooooo much about:
"I don't need Bush's tax cut. I have never worked a fucking day in my life."


Charming, Pat. Charming.

Friday, June 13, 2003

Here’s a great example of someone who’s ripe for a recall, and I’m not talking about Gray Davis.

A backbench liberal politician in Ontario has proposed a piece of legislation called “An Act to Ban Dwarf Tossing”. This waste of paper was prompted by a dwarf tossing contest at a strip club in the Honorable Member’s Windsor riding. Of course, if dwarves were being hurling across the brass rails against their will, no legislative solution is required; the act would, in and of itself, be sufficient to bring assault and battery charges against the hurlers. (Do the buxom ladies of “Le Club Strip” do the tossing, or are these contests only for bouncers? Just wondering…) In this case, though, there is a distinction between what constitutes dwarf tossing and what is actually an assault. The dwarf in question wants to be tossed. You see, the strip club is paying for his services.

Why is the whiny liberal drone from Windsor drafting legislation to keep diminutive men from earning booze money? Because she believes it’s wrong to perpetuate negative stereotypes of short people as wrestlers and circus freaks. She believes her constituents are incapable of understanding that dwarves are humans, not trained performance beasts like Mr. Ed and the dog from Frasier. Ergo, the peoples’ brains are wobbly and badly in need of repair, and that sort of mind control demands corrective legislation, damn it!

The PC garbage aside, the bill’s redundancy reminds me of an hour I spent on one boring afternoon, leafing through my old roommate’s copy of the Canadian Criminal Code. In it, I found, to my surprise, that the Code explicitly bans “dueling”. The act of challenging another idiot to a death match is by definition idiotic. A ratified article of law expressly banning the practice is equally so. As a death match, the ultimate outcome of a duel is predetermined: the idiot with the worst aim will die at the hands of the idiot with the best aim. The former idiot will spend the rest of eternity in a pine box or decorative urn, while the latter idiot will be incarcerated for between 10 to 20 years (this is Canada, after all. Even murderers get ample parole). There is no 5 or 10 year kicker added to a murder sentence if said act occurred as a result of a duel. So, why the extra law banning the duel in the first place?

Those who practice the art of redundancy, like the dwarf obsessed pol, have no business representing anyone. The good people of Windsor, Ontario are hard working, blue-collar folk, some of whom, I’m sure, have attended a dwarf tossing or two at a local nudie bar to wind down after a long week at the Ford plant. It’s a shame their union leadership funnels their dues money to socialist candidates with nothing better to do than conjure up new ways to be useless.

Thursday, June 12, 2003

Dick Morris wrote an open letter to Hillary Clintion on the National Review Online website this morning. He wants to set the record straight on her fabrications...oops, recollections, about their working relationship in her new "autobiography". His letter reveals a different side to Blowjob Bill: Bully.

Bill ran after me, tackled me, threw me to the floor of the kitchen in the mansion and cocked his fist back to punch me. You grabbed his arm and, yelling at him to stop and get control of himself, pulled him off me. Then you walked me around the grounds of the mansion in the minutes after, with your arm around me, saying, "He only does that to people he loves."


Apparently, Bill's affections come with the occasional ass-kicking. Isn't this the sort of thing that happens on The Sopranos?

Ladies and Gentlemen, The IraqStreet Boys!

Wednesday, June 11, 2003

How do you know you are living under a "real" oppressive regime, as opposed to an "imaginary" one conjured up by the histrionic Left? When your government has a "Director of Artistic Censorship".

Once again, the Left is largely silent on the twisted actions of "moderate" fundamentalist states, like our pal Egypt. The Bush Administration, on the other hand, is a Nazi front because it supports a number of broadly popular policies that irk liberals to no end, such as a partial birth abortion ban and public school vouchers.

Just to keep the left wing lingo straight: Bush = Hitler; Any Actual Dictator = Enlightened Savior. Got it?

With the Hillary Worship Orgy defouling all the airwaves these days, I thought I'd pass along this tidbit (via Sullivan's blog, via the author's own blog) from liberal economist Bradford Delong, who worked with her on the HillaryCare health reform debacle of the early 90's. This insight speaks volumes, and it should be repeated often if she finally admits she covets the Oval Office just as much as Blowjob Bill did.

My two cents' worth--and I think it is the two cents' worth of everybody who worked for the Clinton Administration health care reform effort of 1993-1994--is that Hillary Rodham Clinton needs to be kept very far away from the White House for the rest of her life. Heading up health-care reform was the only major administrative job she has ever tried to do. And she was a complete flop at it. She had neither the grasp of policy substance, the managerial skills, nor the political smarts to do the job she was then given. And she wasn't smart enough to realize that she was in over her head and had to get out of the Health Care Czar role quickly.

So when senior members of the economic team said that key senators like Daniel Patrick Moynihan would have this-and-that objection, she told them they were disloyal. When junior members of the economic team told her that the Congressional Budget Office would say such-and-such, she told them (wrongly) that her conversations with CBO head Robert Reischauer had already fixed that. When long-time senior hill staffers told her that she was making a dreadful mistake by fighting with rather than reaching out to John Breaux and Jim Cooper, she told them that they did not understand the wave of popular political support the bill would generate. And when substantive objections were raised to the plan by analysts calculating the moral hazard and adverse selection pressures it would put on the nation's health-care system...

Hillary Rodham Clinton has already flopped as a senior administrative official in the executive branch--the equivalent of an Undersecretary. Perhaps she will make a good senator. But there is no reason to think that she would be anything but an abysmal president.


Tuesday, June 10, 2003

Close provincial election in my old New Brunswick stomping grounds last night. The Conservatives eeked out a one-seat victory, though a handful of recounts in tight ridings may quash the celebration. I haven’t watched an election that exciting in Cuba North since the frogs damn near seceded from the Dominion in the fall of ’95 (“Curses! Foiled again!”).

NB is a strange locale for politics. Talk about useless government waste; the place only has 750,000 people, but it elects 55 representatives, each making around $80,000, and they each get full legislative offices, complete with staff. The Premier’s Cabinet usually holds between 20 and 30 members, including those in charge of essential government services, like the “Sports and Recreation Secretariat” and the “Minister Responsible for the Status of Women”.

Oddly enough, nobody back home seems to have a problem with all this graft. To put this into perspective, Arizona, at 5.7 million people, has about the same number of elected officials as NB, yet it functions quite well and has a far leaner bureaucracy.

No quirky political environment would be complete without whiny purveyors of identity politics. The province’s French-speaking population, the Acadiens, fit this role to a "T". To them, sharing the world with the “Anglos” is tantamount to a life in purgatory. They moan ad nauseum over their deported ancestors of 1755 (Oh, please. They were relocated from the harsh winter wasteland of Eastern Canada to balmy Louisiana. Boo-Hoo.), and they demand special privileges and reparations, all because their French protectors couldn’t win a colonial war against the English. They have become as effective at using divisive language politics as the Jesse Jackson/Al Sharpton ilk plays the race card in America. Nobody wins an election in old NB without planting a giant wet kiss on the Giant Frog Arse. Pointing out the lunacy of maintaining separate English and French school systems when the government is struggling with a decades-old recession, skyrocketing healthcare costs, and growing debts would spell instant defeat for a political newcomer in this strange little province.

My fiancée asked me whether I would ever consider going back to give politics a shot. After gagging, I gave the idea some thought for about a millisecond. Frankly, my history of pissing off the uber-sensitive Acadiens with politically incorrect and imprudent questions (Why must I be forced to learn French if I don't plan on living here?) pretty much torched the prospect long ago. New Brunswick will have to deal with its common sense deficit without me.

On completely different matter: MONKEYPOX!

Thursday, June 05, 2003

Poker is my latest diversion. I've been captivated by the Travel Channel's broadcasts of the World Poker Tour events for some time now, but after this "Poker-ella" story, my curiousity has morphed into a full-fledged obsession. Considering a guy named Moneymaker can come out of nowhere to win the World Series of Poker, I think my namesake carries some decent poker karma, too.

Storm clouds are rumbling over the liberal utopia of Southern California.

Eco-hyprocite Babs Streisand is suing a few of her fellow Commies-in-Arms for publishing pictures of her less than enviro-friendly Malibu estate over the web.

Funny, I thought pink was supposed to be a soothing, friendly color.