Chris Buckley Explains What HE Meant by His Snub of McCain and Rub up on Obama

Heavens, Houlihan! How in the name of Hyrcania did House . . . Oh, hello. Dabbling in Geopolitical gamesmanship with estimable film maker Mike Houlihan - whose production of Tapioca premieres at the Gene Siskel Theatre on November 20th, 2008. Click my Post Title, Do! Oh, Do so attend. We were discussing the defection of dandified dabbler Christopher Buckley to the Redistribution of Wealth Syndicate of Camp Obama. Most dyspeptic over this. Salts, Please, Willingham! Now where was I, this certainly not Kansas - Ah yes Illinois -Bold Blue. Buckley, yes.

I could not get Chris Buckley to explain himself per his recent endorsement of Senator Barack Obama, as I did not try.

He is as top-hole a writer, wit, gad-about and nuanced parser as Kid Hope could ever dream of finding in his Redistribution of Wealth library - or as Sarah Palin might say - along with so many of us helots -Lie Barry. Hmmmmm.

Damme! I tried to recall, as best I could, exactly whom Chris Buckley most sounds like - there is a shiney new dime for whoever guesses the literary source for my imaginary journalism ( an homage to Huffington Post):

Chris Buckley, Poison Squirrels! Let's have it!

Hickey -'Mr. Buckley why did you eschew McCain for Obama?'

"You will agree with me that he is not everybody's money."

"There may be something in what you say, sir."
"Cleopatra wouldn't have liked him."
"Possibly not, sir."


You know how it is with some girls. They seem to take the stuffing right out of you. I mean to say, there is something about their personality that paralyses the vocal cords and reduces the contents of the brain to cauliflower.
Scarcely had I entered the sitting-room when I found ... what appeared at first sight to be the Devil, A closer scrutiny informed me that it was Gussie Fink-Nottle, dressed as Mephistopheles.
We do not tell old friends beneath our roof-tree that they are an offence to the eyesight.
Gussie, a glutton for punishment, stared at himself in the mirror.
The female in question was a sloppy pest
There is enough sadness in life without having fellows like Gussie Fink-Nottle going about in sea boots.
A slight throbbing about the temples told me that this discussion had reached saturation point.
I consider that of all the dashed silly, drivelling ideas I ever heard in my puff this is the most blithering and futile. It won't work. Not a chance.
And a moment later there was a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and the relative had crossed the threshold at fifty m.p.h. under her own steam.



My Aunt Agatha, the curse of the Home Counties and a menace to one and all.
she cried in a voice that hit me between the eyebrows and went out at the back of my head.
"Have you ever heard of Market Snodsbury Grammar School?"

"Never."
"It's a grammar school at Market Snodsbury."
I told her a little frigidly that I had divined as much.

I goggled. Her words did not appear to make sense. They seemed the mere aimless vapouring of an aunt who has been sitting out in the sun without a hat.
"You're pulling my leg."

"I am not pulling your leg. Nothing would induce me to touch your beastly leg."

"But why do you want me? I mean, what am I? Ask yourself that."

"I often have."
"I'm hopeless at a game like that. Ask Jeeves about the time I got lugged in to address a girls' school. I made the most colossal ass of myself."
"And I confidently anticipate that you will make an equally colossal ass of yourself on the thirty-first of this month. That's why I want you. The way I look at it is that, as the thing is bound to be a frost, anyway,one may as well get a hearty laugh out of it."

He had been looking like a dead fish. He now looked like a deader fish, one of last year's, cast up on some lonely beach and left there at the mercy of the wind and tides.
It's only about once in a lifetime that anything sensational ever happens to one, and when it does, you don't want people taking all the colour out of it. I remember at school having to read that stuff where that chap, Othello, tells the girl what a hell of a time he'd been having among the cannibals and what not. Well, imagine his feelings if, after he had described some particularly sticky passage with a cannibal chief and was waiting for the awestruck "Oh-h! Not really?", she had said that the whole thing had no doubt been greatly exaggerated and that the man had probably really been a prominent local vegetarian.
"It's the sort of thing you would do."
"My scheme is far more subtle. Let me outline it for you."
"No, thanks."
"I say to myself----"
"But not to me."
"Do listen for a second."
"I won't."
"Right ho, then. I am dumb."
"And have been from a child."

"And, anyway, no matter how much you may behave like the deaf adder of Scripture which, as you are doubtless aware, the more one piped, the less it danced, or words to that effect, I shall carry on as planned. "
In build and appearance, Tuppy somewhat resembles a bulldog, and his aspect now was that of one of these fine animals who has just been refused a slice of cake.
The discovery of a toy duck in the soap dish, presumably the property of some former juvenile visitor, contributed not a little to this new and happier frame of mind. What with one thing and another, I hadn't played with toy ducks in my bath for years, and I found the novel experience most invigorating. For the benefit of those interested, I may mention that if you shove the thing under the surface with the sponge and then let it go, it shoots out of the water in a manner calculated to divert the most careworn. Ten minutes of this and I was enabled to return to the bedchamber much more the old merry Bertram.
"I don't want to seem always to be criticizing your methods of voice production, Jeeves," I said, "but I must inform you that that 'Well, sir' of yours is in many respects fully as unpleasant as your 'Indeed, sir?' Like the latter, it seems to be tinged with a definite scepticism. It suggests a lack of faith in my vision. The impression I retain after hearing you shoot it at me a couple of times is that you consider me to be talking through the back of my neck, and that only a feudal sense of what is fitting restrains you from substituting for it the words 'Says you!'"
"Oh? I didn't know that."
"There isn't much you do know."

"Tut!" I said.
"What did you say?"
"I said 'Tut!'"
"Say it once again, and I'll biff you where you stand. I've enough to endure without being tutted at."
"Quite."
"Any tutting that's required, I'll attend to myself. And the same applies to clicking the tongue, if you were thinking of doing that."
"Far from it."
"Good."

And as for Gussie Fink-Nottle, many an experienced undertaker would have been deceived by his appearance and started embalming him on sight.
I remember when I was a kid at school having to learn a poem of sorts about a fellow named Pig-something--a sculptor he would have been, no doubt--who made a statue of a girl, and what should happen one morning but that the bally thing suddenly came to life. A pretty nasty shock for the chap, of course.
"Oh, look," she said. She was a confirmed Oh-looker. I had noticed this at Cannes, where she had drawn my attention in this manner on various occasions to such diverse objects as a French actress, a Provençal filling station, the sunset over the Estorels, Michael Arlen, a man selling coloured spectacles, the deep velvet blue of the Mediterranean, and the late mayor of New York in a striped one-piece bathing suit.
When I was a child, I used to think that rabbits were gnomes, and that if I held my breath and stayed quite still, I should see the fairy queen.". Indicating with a reserved gesture that this was just the sort of loony thing I should have expected her to think as a child, I returned to the point.
Though never for an instant faltering in my opinion that Augustus Fink-Nottle was Nature's final word in cloth-headed guffins, I liked the man, wished him well.
Then he rose and began to pace the room in an overwrought sort of way, like a zoo lion who has heard the dinner-gong go and is hoping the keeper won't forget him in the general distribution.
Contenting myself, accordingly, with a gesture of loving sympathy, I left the room. Whether she did or did not throw a handsomely bound volume of the Works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, at me, I am not in a position to say. I had seen it lying on the table beside her, and as I closed the door I remember receiving the impression that some blunt instrument had crashed against the woodwork, but I was feeling too pre-occupied to note and observe.
"Goodbye, Bertie," he said, rising.
I seemed to spot an error.
"You mean 'Hullo,' don't you?"
"No, I don't. I mean goodbye. I'm off."
"Off where?"
"To the kitchen garden. To drown myself."
"Don't be an ass."
"I'm not an ass.... Am I an ass, Jeeves?"
"Possibly a little injudicious, sir."
"Drowning myself, you mean?"
"Yes, sir."
"You think, on the whole, not drown myself?"
"I should not advocate it, sir."
"Very well, Jeeves. I accept your ruling. After all, it would be unpleasant for Mrs. Travers to find a swollen body floating in her pond."


"Jeeves," I said, and I am free to admit that in my emotion I bleated like a lamb drawing itself to the attention of the parent sheep, "what the dickens is all this?"
I wouldn't have said off-hand that I had a subconscious mind, but I suppose I must without knowing it, and no doubt it was there, sweating away diligently at the old stand, all the while the corporeal Wooster was getting his eight hours.
If you can visualize a bulldog which has just been kicked in the ribs and had its dinner sneaked by the cat, you will have Hildebrand Glossop as he now stood before me.
"I've been through hell, Bertie."
"Through where?"
"Hell."
"Oh, hell? And what took you there?"

"Beginning with a _critique_ of my own limbs, which she said, justly enough, were nothing to write home about, this girl went on to dissect my manners, morals, intellect, general physique, and method of eating asparagus with such acerbity that by the time she had finished the best you could say of Bertram was that, so far as was known, he had never actually committed murder or set fire to an orphan asylum."
"The boy is the father of the man."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about this Glossop."
"I thought you said something about somebody's father."
"I said the boy was the father of the man."
"What boy?"
"The boy Glossop."
"He hasn't got a father."
"I never said he had. I said he was the father of the boy--or, rather, of the man."
"What man?"

Besides, isn't there something in the book of rules about a man may not marry his cousin? Or am I thinking of grandmothers?

"My dear Tuppy, does one bandy a woman's name?"
"One does if one doesn't want one's ruddy head pulled off."
I saw that it was a special case.

I was reading in the paper the other day about those birds who are trying to split the atom, the nub being that they haven't the foggiest as to what will happen if they do. It may be all right. On the other hand, it may not be all right. And pretty silly a chap would feel, no doubt, if, having split the atom, he suddenly found the house going up in smoke and himself torn limb from limb.
He expressed the opinion that the world was in a deplorable state. I said, 'Don't talk rot, old Tom Travers.' 'I am not accustomed to talk rot,' he said. 'Then, for a beginner,' I said, 'you do it dashed well.' And I think you will admit, boys and ladies and gentlemen, that that was telling him."
"The fellow with a face rather like a walnut."
Nature, when planning this sterling fellow, shoved in a lot more lower jaw than was absolutely necessary and made the eyes a bit too keen and piercing for one who was neither an Empire builder nor a traffic policeman.
"She loves this newt-nuzzling blister."

Newt Nuzzling,Sir? Why I never . . .well, rarely. Dear Old Pup, now, what Wode he say? Tah!

Francis Cardinal George - One of Us! We are all Supplicant Lions!

Catholics are supplicants.  From the time we first learn to chatter, we are taught to ask for help, intercession, aid and comfort; we beseech.  We supplicate - ask humbly, earnestly and with faith.  Our prayers are chock-filled with verbs, adverbs, adjectives and nouns rooted in the Latin past participle -supplicatus/supplicare.

Catholics are required to go where help is most forthcoming, through intercessors.  We also pray in Adoration, Confession and Thanksgiving, but intercession and prayers of intercession are recognition of our helpnessess and subordination to others more capable giving aid -beyond our family, friends, co-workers and most certainly beyond Google, MSNBC,  our Advanced Degrees hanging on our walls and the guys at the local bar.

Catholicism runs counter to Thoreau, Emerson and Dewey.  Outcomes can not be determined by data. Nature can not be apprehended by legislation, policy, or desire for outcomes.

Catholics pray not to fix things, but to reconcile ourselves to God and Nature.  We fix things by paying for them whether they be hips, knees, gutters or unpaid parking tickets.  We can not lawyer up with God's Universe.  Catholics asks humbly and earnestly to keep faith. The absolute best prayer is the Memorare*

On the first day of classes at Leo High School, Thursday last, a giant child of a freshman and one of my morning transport lads, Daylon F. of Bronzeville was waiting for his schedule after being fitted for his uniform polo shirt.  Daylon is 6'3" in height and every bit of 300 lbs and change at 14 years old. Daylon got himself a XXXXX(5)L.

This Mannish Boy was staring at the wonderful life size crucifix with attached kneeler that dominates the wait area outside of my Development cubicle.  He asked me, " What's the INRI on the top of the cross mean?"

Daylon, like so many Leo Men, is non-Catholic.  More so , there are too many Catholic kids who do not learn that theological-historical tidbit in their eight years of Catholic grammar school anymore.

"INRI??? What's that?"

The Romans did not have the letter J and they used I instead.  Jesus was IESUS pronounced Yeah Sus, or something like that.

"What's INRI mean?"

That was the charge Jesus found guilty of violating by the Roman Court - Iēsus Nazarēnus, Rēx Iūdaeōrum Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.

" Damn, that's a crime ?"

A capital crime to the Romans - no king BUT Caesar and the Caesar at that time was Tiberius and he was real piece of work.

"Why a crime."

The Romans wanted nothing but attention to government -everyone and everywhere and the Romans did everything according to law. There is no wiggle room. It says, on that plate in no uncertain terms that Jesus of Nazareth, IS King of the Jews and only Caesar can make a King - like Herod and his old man.  This execution settled it.

" But it didn't."

No it certainly did not.  Jesus rose from the dead and over turned the court's ruling.

Daylon gets it.  He said Jesus "prayed to His Father and Father rose Him from the Dead."

No one does it alone, pal.

Daylon is at Leo because of Mike Holmes, Mark Lee,  Dan McGrath, Rich Furlong, Jim Furlong, Jim Arvetis, Andy McKenna, Frank Considine, John Gardner, Bill Koloseike, Bob Sheehy, Jackie Schaller, Bernie Pepping, Jim Corbett, and seven thousand other Leo Alumni who give money all year.  Even guys who might not have enough money to give volunteer, come to games and most of all pray for Daylon, whom they have yet to meet.  Daylon has Francis Cardinal George backing his play; Cardinal George is a Leo Alumnus.  He is one of us.

We take care of each other.  This summer, one of us, a classmate of Daylon was murdered -

Chicago police said Antonio Davis, 14, was shot and killed Friday night near 69th and Union around 8:40 p.m.A day later, a 13-year-old boy was shot and killed in the 6200-block of South Rhodes. Neighbors said there was a large party at the home where the boy was shot that spilled into the street.Also, a 14-year-old and 15-year-old are recovering from being shot while playing basketball near their home Saturday night. It happened around 8:43pm in the 2400-block of East 74th Street. The two victims were playing when a gunman approached on foot and opened fire, striking the two.Davis' family said he was an A and B student at Leo High School and had dreams of becoming a basketball player."I just know that he was walking to the store to get my niece's baby water and a car pulled up and jumped out at him and shot him" said Davis' aunt, Latrice Strong

Dan McGrath called the Leo community.  Leo paid for the gravesite and the repast held at the school.  Mr. Leak of the Funeral home handled the funeral, Dwayne Wade's mother preached the funeral - Dwayne Wade was coached and mentored by Leo Man Jack Fitzgerald. Antonio Davis attended one week of summer school - he was a Leo Man.  Cardinal George is a Leo Man, Daylon is a Leo Man and we are all supplicants.

Cardinal George has cancer. He is one of us.  We are all supplicants. There are seven thousand and change Leo Men saying the Memorare - a prayer of intercession and supplication,  Help and provide, Mary Mother of God, one of our own - old school and new school versions.

MEMORARE, O piissima Virgo Maria,
non esse auditum a saeculo, quemquam ad tua currentem praesidia,
tua implorantem auxilia, tua petentem suffragia,
esse derelictum.
Ego tali animatus confidentia,
ad te, Virgo Virginum, Mater, curro,
ad te venio, coram te gemens peccator assisto.
Noli, Mater Verbi,
verba mea despicere;
sed audi propitia et exaudi.
Amen.

Remember, O Most Gracious Virgin Mary,
that never was it known that anyone who fled to Thy protection,
implored Thy help or sought Thine intercession,
was left unaided.
Inspired by this confidence,
I fly unto Thee, O Virgin of Virgins, my Mother;
to Thee do I come, before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful.
O Mother of the Word Incarnate,
despise not my petitions,
but in Thy mercy, hear and answer me.
Amen.

*A prayer beginning, "Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary." Of unknown authorship, it has been attributed to St. Augustine, to St. John Chrysostom, and with more reason to St. Bernard or to Claude Bernard, "poor priest" of Paris. Passages in sermons of St. Bernard echo the theme (PL 183:428), but none comes close to the actual wording of the Memorare. The manuscript tradition can be traced only to the 15th century. It appears as a section of a longer prayer in the Antidotarius animae of Nicolas Salicetus (1489). J. Wellinger included it, possibly as a separate invocation, in his Hortulus animae (1503). Claude Bernard (1588–1641) …

Medill's Chicago Tribune Uses Penn State to Pile on Catholics

"There are not over a hundred people in the United States who hate the Catholic Church. There are millions, however, who hate what they wrongly believe to be the Catholic Church—which is, of course, quite a different thing." Bishop Fulton J. Sheen


We do not really need a religion that is right where we are right. What we need is a religion that is right where we are wrong. G.K. Chesterton

Eric Zorn hates Catholics like a school-yard sneak hates getting caught -"We just playing. It was goofing around. What about them?"

It is a sign of one's Progressive street-cred to vilify a Catholic's beliefs, Catholic leadership, Catholic history, and above all Catholic Institutional failings, while protesting in a soft, silky, humming NPR tone that 'well its is all true. Is it not?'

Eric Zorn cuts to the core of the problem at Penn State by touting a Nast-like cartoon from the in-house paper hanger Stantis -Scott Stantis. I do not believe that there is a Roman Catholic bishop on the Board of Directors at Penn State. While Joe P is a practicing Catholic . . .that must be it! Scott Stantis, who couldn't carry Jack Higgins' jockstrap, evidently needs to draw that connection for the brie-eaters and they love it! Eric Zorn squeals -Stantis Brings It!

Random Bishops! Dude!

Scott Stantis is widely ignored (I was unaware of his body of work) and requires a pedestal. Eric Zorn (EZ), The Water Boy, a columnist and Progressive mouthpiece has a good sized readership. I read him for laughs.

The above cartoon deflects the problem at Penn State, a public school, onto the American Catholic Strawmen - Bishops. Bishops are the patriarchal, liver spotted, cassock-ed, mitre'd, people who are blamed for the NAMBLA* crises that has yet to be seriously addressed.

N.B. Odd. . .NAMBLA is cool with Progressives. Obama appointed a NAMBLA devotee to Arne Duncan's Dept. of Education.

The bishops deserve criticism and must wear the jacket for the priest abuse scandals for many more years.

It is easy to hate the Catholic Church. It is easy to hate. It is very hard work to be merely a good guy. It requires that we do things that we might not find easy to do, like teaching your children that respecting the differences found in some people does not require that you ignore the rules of Nature and moral truth. There have been homosexuals on or planet, since Sodom, Sparta, Boetia, and Christopher Street. The only homosexuals who had children were those on the 'down-low' like Oscar Wilde. Homosexuals married women. Oscar and Lord Alfred Douglas had no children. Impulse and desire do not make for normalcy.

Likewise, it is very difficult to teach my daughters as a widow-man, that the great gift of sex belongs only in the sacrament, because marriage between a man and woman is as much as protective womb as the one possessed by my two girls - young women. They have witnessed the mountain of problems a single parent has in trying to bring children up alone. Children need a mother and a father. My son learned early in life that gentleness and respect for a woman is the greatest body cologne in the world and it is far more attractive to a woman than a gallon of AXE.

The hardest thing to try and teach them is the fact that while we posses our bodies, they are not ours to keep. We can not choose to do what we want and when we want - we can not liberate ourselves when mood strikes. We can, but that is not different than being like Barney the Golden Lab who must dry-hump me on sight. Who's to say this is not Love?

Joseph Medill lovingly hated Catholics and the Chicago Tribune has kept that impulse alive and change.

Abortion and Gay Marriage are two huge Progressive agendas - they must be preserved and instituted. The Catholic Church is the only institution that stands in its way.

President Obama is making war on Catholic hospitals that do not push abortion and colleges that do not celebrate the Rainbow flag. Catholic politicians are okay with that.

Catholic Bishops are finally beginning to show some backbone. Archbishop Dolan of New York is the new Dagger John Hughes - who fought off anti-Catholic bigots through the mid 19th Century. Cardinal George has predicted that he will die in his bed, his successor in prison and that bishop's successor will be martyred for the Faith.

Eric Zorn and the third-rate Scott Stantis are doing all that they can do help make that come true. I hope that our next Cardinal is made of the stuff of martyrs. I like martyrs who give as well as get. I'd love to see someone with the youth and intelligence of Archbishop J.P. Sartain, formerly of Joliet and now Archbishop of Seattle step into Cardinal George's moccasins.

Catholics understand Progressives. We know that the wet-stuff running down the back of our legs is not the Showers of May.


*

The North American Man/Boy Love Association (NAMBLA) is a pedophile and pederasty advocacy organization in the United States that works to abolish age of consent laws criminalizing adult sexual involvement with minors, and for the release of all men who have been jailed for sexual contacts with minors that did not involve coercion.Some reports state that the group no longer has regular national meetings, and that as of the late 1990s to avoid local police infiltration, the organization discouraged the formation of local chapters. An undercover detective around 1995 discovered that there were 1,100 people on the rolls. As of 2005 a newspaper report stated that NAMBLA was based in New York and San Francisco, and that it held an annual gathering in New York City and monthly meetings around the country.
NAMBLA has been defended by poet and rights advocate Allen Ginsberg[6][7] and gay rights activist Harry Hay.

Cry Wolf White House v. Dances with Wolves? Costner's Gizmo Tested by BP

Kevin Costner has an oil seperating gizmo. Like most Americans, I needed to strain to learn about this, because the corporate media is doing a gang-pile on British Petroleum

The hemp smokers of Huffington Post and MSNBC and CNN are Cry Wolf White House cheerleaders.

Well Dances with Wolves was a reworking of Sir Waler Scott's novel Waverly and Costner seems to have original ideas that are based in what worked in our past.

Let's hope this works.

"I'm not on a white horse," Costner said. "I'm not the savior to this thing. But I'm kind of saying, like, I got a life preserver."

The device, which is designed to be brought to the spill site on barges, can separate 99% of oil from water and recycle up to 2,000 barrels per day. Costner spent 15 years and $20 million of his own money to develop the machine.

"If 20 of my V20s would have been at the Exxon Valdez, 90 percent of that oil would have been cleaned up within the week," Costner said. . . . The "Dances with Wolves" and "Waterworld" star said he got the idea to develop the centrifuge while watching the Exxon-Valdez spill in 1989.

"... [W]hat happened is as a young man, as a boy, I would see these things, these images, and I could tell my parents would stop and look at the TV," he said. "And when you're young, you look at them and you go, 'Something stopped them.' And what stopped them was these images.

"So I looked at those images myself and it was rubber boots. And it was straw. And it was pitch forks. And then I looked at it again ten years later and I wasn't a boy anymore. And I'm looking at it. And now I'm going, the same images, the oil coming up like pudding and people again on beaches with rubber boots and straw."

BP tested a version of Costner's device earlier this year, but the test failed after the machine gave the oil a peanut butter-like consistency. That problem has since been fixed, and BP is retesting the machine now in the hopes of getting it to the Gulf soon.

Despite the fact that the oil has reached the shores of Mississippi, Louisiana, and Alabama, Costner is confident that his oil separator can step in and make an immediate impact on the clean-up process.

"That oil's going to keep coming towards those people," Costner said. "That well has not stopped. So we have to be out at the source, sucking it up on some major, I mean, we have to treat it a little bit like a war. We mustered logistically everything we had to get the Beaches of Normandy. We have to muster everything we can to keep it from hitting our beaches.

And the actor hopes that the machine can help prevent large-scale incidents like this from occurring in the future.

"... [W]e know accidents are going to happen, "Costner said. "But if we're going to operate on our high seas, we have to have-- we have to have this equipment there and ... it should be able to operate the minute the oil comes into contact with water."



Read more: http://www.nydailynews.com/news/national/2010/06/14/2010-06-14_bp_to_test_out_actor_kevin_costners_oil_spill_cleanup_machine_for_possible_use_i.html#ixzz0qqJPCx78




Read more: http://www.nydailynews.com/news/national/2010/06/14/2010-06-14_bp_to_test_out_actor_kevin_costners_oil_spill_cleanup_machine_for_possible_use_i.html#ixzz0qqJ6lCU7

Read more: http://www.nydailynews.com/news/national/2010/06/14/2010-06-14_bp_to_test_out_actor_kevin_costners_oil_spill_cleanup_machine_for_possible_use_i.html#ixzz0qqHcG0p8

Chicago's Thug Comfort Zone Claims Incoming Leo Student

A Genuine Shower of Bastards - G. Flint Taylor and the Architects of Chicago's Thug Comfort Zone


Ceasefire ( Gangbanger Pensioners),  Marches, T-Shirts, and Gun Turn-Ins are band-aids on cancer.  Chicago is and has been a Thug Comfort Zone where murdering thugs without any moral compass are allowed to kill with impunity and often immunity.


The lawyers and the media and gutless elected officials have helped every gang and independent sociopath feel free to murder in the knowledge that G. Flint Taylor, Jon Loevy and Locke Bowman as well as the Innocense Project and other massively funded university based 'feel-good' coalitions of the comfortable have their backs.


These self-puffing individuals and corporations have undermined any and all public confidence in the American judicial system and have gelded the authority of police officers to combat the killers.  Cadillac Commie lawyers like G. Flint Taylor has a seat at the head of the table for our Chicago bullshit buffet - Chicagoans have been schooled by the academics, columnists and the Peoples Law Office with the Burge Myth.


This Friday night, an incoming freshman to Leo High School was slain thanks to this collective handiwork by the Lawsuit Lotto Lawyers.  On Sunday G. Flint Taylor was given another editorial page perch in the Chicago Sun Times to pound out more Burge Mythology in order to gain him more clients and out of court settlement jackpots.
G. Flint Taylor has failed to prove that Chicago Police Officers tortured anyone; yet, Burge remains Chicago's Burge -ie Man and killings pile up higher than unclaimed corpses in Toni Preckwinkle's morgue.


  

Chicago police said Antonio Davis, 14, was shot and killed Friday night near 69th and Union around 8:40 p.m.A day later, a 13-year-old boy was shot and killed in the 6200-block of South Rhodes. Neighbors said there was a large party at the home where the boy was shot that spilled into the street.
Also, a 14-year-old and 15-year-old are recovering from being shot while playing basketball near their home Saturday night. It happened around 8:43pm in the 2400-block of East 74th Street. The two victims were playing when a gunman approached on foot and opened fire, striking the two.
Davis' family said he was an A and B student at Leo High School and had dreams of becoming a basketball player.
"I just know that he was walking to the store to get my niece's baby water and a car pulled up and jumped out at him and shot him" said Davis' aunt, Latrice Strong

Until we recognize the source of Chicago's Thug Comfort Zone, more families will grieve. You can trace the building of Chicago's Thug Comfort from G. Flint Taylor's initial dabblings in the Burge Mythology - thirty years of construction for this societal destruction and millions of dollars in his pockets.
http://www.suntimes.com/news/otherviews/13348412-452/time-for-apology-in-burge-cases.html

Career Grifter CTA's Forrest Claypool' s Bull Durham Sack Management by Voyeurism

 CHICAGO (CBS) — The CTA admits it is using hidden cameras to crack down on employees who should be working, but some employees say they are placing the cameras in places they shouldn’t be.
The CTA claims that the cameras are part of an effort to crack down on waste, in this case employees sleeping on the job, and worse. . . .

I suppose that grabbing wink or two is the Progressive equivalent of sticking nickels in a Bull Durham sack. I am old enough to remember old timers who drove buses and streetcars. They referred to the art of Transit Larceny by an individual as being a 'Bull Durham Operator.'  On each route, a few nickels went home with the guy who spirited fares into a Bull Durham tobacco sack.   A greedy pig of a Transit worker would eventually get caught and find another City Hall gig.

Nowadays,  the thieves wear Brooks Brothers and get paid in checks with more zeroes than the Japanese air-force.  Or, if you read the Chicago papers and watch WTTW, the real thieves take naps after punching in to work.  I don't buy that crap.

I watch City workers everyday- cops, firemen, garbage men, water crews, teachers, bus and L drivers and the CTA repair crews on the Red, Orange, Blue, Brown, Pink and Mauve lines.  They do work.  They do work.  They do, work. There's no Siesta in public service! There is bid rigging, insider trading, fraud and all manner of contract opportunism.  Speaking of fraud and opportunism, let's turn to a paragon -CTA Boss Forrest Claypool.

I have long perceived Forrest Claypool to be a shameless moocher, a callow opportunist and really talent-challenged guy; now, in this second disturbing action  ( the first being the Claypool Pee-Watch on CTA Workers c. 2011) reported by CBS 2's Jay Levine I must add . . .really creepy.

My perceptions are based upon actual physical empirical encounters with this thin-gruel government job-hopper;  I watched Park District Commissioner shake down a girl working in the Special Events Department for VIP passes to Petrillo Band Shell performances acts open to the general public - but somewhat distant and without the VIP post-performance feed.   It was painful to watch . . . you know,  like a kid who beefs that his brother's birthday cake was better.  I have watched Forrest attend political events and fund-raisers for and by the people whom he would immediately stab in the back (too numerous to mention) and bad mouth to the ever useful Carol Marin.  I have followed the weasel-slick career of Forrest Claypool as he parlayed his way from Harold Washington to Rahm, always with a sense that there truly is no there, there.

I mean Andy Shaw endorsed Forrest. Me?  I think he is probably a great guy, when he's at home. Maybe not now, though.

Now, we hear that Ventra Boy the Micturating Bombardier has place peep-hole cameras in the locker and break rooms of CTA employees.  The idea is to find victims, when the public comes calling for answers about screw-ups that Forrest had his paws all over.

You see, Progressives have and always will hate and despise working men and women.  They love poor people, because they are commodity and could not name two persons in poverty.  Working people, especially skilled trades people are always and always will be the target of Investigative News Teams, Chuck Goudis, Peep-hole Operator and Progressives like Forrest Claypool.

Some guy sleeping off a hangover in the cab of Water Department Dump Truck must be exposed for the villain he is; some woman taking a bit too long in the Ladies Room really steams Forrest Claypool's clams and some kid taking a gander at the porn his supervisor downloaded requires a public chastisement.

The fact that this over-hired and over-paid Voyeur is setting up working people with cameras in their locker and break rooms is not new, but very consistent.  Forrest announced his 'crime fighting camera installations' last February; at the time, it was in response to thugs on the bus.  Now, we know that is just another attack on the middle class - the people who actually work for a living on the City's nickel.

Camera's never catch career grifters.

NYPD Again 'Backs' Mayor Warren/DeBlasio/Bill DeBlasio/Billy Jack.

New York decided that Warren Wilhelm, Jr. ( AKA Warren DeBlasio-Wilhelm ( 1983) and finally in 2002 Bill De Blasio) would make a fine mayor of the Big Apple. Hell, Chicago voted in a nine-fingered  Highland Park  Danseur  Why?  Billy Jack. 

The Democrat Party warmed to the notion of a post-political, non Wall Street infected hipster with a compelling narrative makes a great elected official.  I believe that I can trace this notion back to that fine American film that dominated the American conscience during the Carter Administration - Billy Jack Goes to Washington - a re-make of Capra's Mr. Smith Goes to Washington by Capra's boy Frank Junior. Billy Jack is, in the Democrat tradition that made Roland "Tombstone Burris" a national laughing stock of a United States Senator, appointed to fill-out a term. Instead of Mr. Smith's planned Boy Ranger Park, Senator Billy Jack goes for a clean-energy " NO MORE NUKES" National Initiative!  Hey, it works for Billy Jack, imagine what it could do for National Health and Same Sex Marriage.

With tweaking in the last century and twerking in the current millennium the DNC has produced Senators, Congressmen, governors, mayors, Water Reclamation District trustees and a President with all of the abilities and heart of Billy Jack. We are living the Billy Jack dream!  Warren Wilhem-Warren DeBasio Willhelm-Bill DeBlasio is Mayor Billy Jack and he hates cops.

People who normally are known to their communities as goofs,odd-balls, anti-cross and creche litigants have been elected by voters more concerned with Fantasy Football rosters, Oprah Matters and political pantomime, than taking responsibility for their continued presence in the American middle class.

The national news media, no longer played by veteran character actor Thomas Mitchell, but by Chris Hayes, hates not only cops, but also, firemen, skilled tradesmen; Catholic schools; all living Jews inIsrael;Black Supreme Court Justices, neurosurgeons, Army colonels; all Navy Seals and taxpayers.   Some believe that the murder of the two NYPD officers made cops happy and that police officers should turn their backs on politicians who call them stupid, racist, brutal choke-hold and trigger happy thugs.

Call me silly. but I admire and respect police officers - committed public servants who deal with monsters frequently and creepy asses hourly.

In defiance of Commisioner Bill Brattan's suggestion that NYPD Blue-coats refrain from signally their contempt for a contemptuous ass occupying Gracie Manor, thousands of officers turned their backs on the Big Screen when Mayor Warren Wilhelm-DeBlasio, Bill photo bombed the services for Officer Liu and mouthed pious hypocrisies, like this idiocy worthy of Salon's Joan Walsh, “New York has been, from its earliest days, the most tolerant of cities, that harmony has been challenged.”

Really?  Ever since the Dutch took Manhattan with a handful of Mojos, New York has been intolerant of somebody - People who backed George Washington, potato gobbling, garlic scented, kielbasa wielding Catholics,  Slavic accented  shtetl- dwellers who believe in Justice universal, and Archie Bunker.

I have a blue ribbon on my tree.  In fact my neighborhood has blue ribbons tied to trees all over my Ward.  It is meant to show support for cops.  I never use the word solidarity, because my union card expired in 1977.   I respect cops.  They keep the kids who attend Leo High School safe.  Leo High School is 95% African American and not one has been shot, let alone killed by a Chicago Police Officer.  I have helped bury ten young black men who were Leo students and have watch one young man struggle to over come the five bullets to his abdomen sent their by the gang-banging monster who wanted to kill his cousin and decided he's do as well.

Mayor De Blasio is a media creature - Mayor Billy Jack.  Billions of barrels of ink and TV balloon juice will back and parse away every contemptuous word that comes from this Mayor's maw.

Who back the back-turning people in Blue?

Me.

I got a blue ribbon, put on my tree by one of my neighbors.   It  is not much but it speaks to my choices.

I know bullshit when I see it, but I refuse to dine upon it.

Planned Parenthood and the True Face of Evil - Dr. Kermit Gosnell

Gosnell, an elegant man who appears serene in court, smiled softly as he listened to testimony last week, even that of a young woman who said she was hospitalized for two weeks after a 2009 abortion. AP

The Elegance of murdering children?

Planned Parenthood used to be a GOP pet project.  Back in the day Planned Parenthood, a group dedicated to killing unborn children, attracted the hearts and minds of Brahmins in Boston, Knickerbockers in New York, Philadelphia Main Liners and the Percys of Illinois.  Back in the day, no Democrat would would sit down, or up-wind of a Planned Parenthood Dowager with a handbag full of cash.

Democrats, back in the day, were Catholics and devout Jews, or Baptists.  Things change, or as Progressives who always embrace eugenics, be it euthanizing the mentally challenged or the Old Folks at Home, or good old fashioned infanticide, was found to be wholesome to Mainline Protestant ( Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Methodists and of course the United Church of Christ) Babbitts, as well as the east coast elites.

Back in the day, Planned Parenthood was a tough sell.  Then came Vatican II, Camelot, The Great Society and The Pill.  Abortion was put on the back burner and Contraception became all the rage.   Gradually, the Planned Parenthood's GOP supporters slid into the tar-pits of history: John Lindsey, Nels Rockefeller and Chuck Percy shed their mortal husks.

By the 1968 Convention in Chicago coalitions against LBJ's War on Uncle Ho, included leading voices of the Abortion Industry including America's Pediatrician for Kids Who Managed Not To Be Aborted - Dr. Benjamin Spock.  The meme be -If Dr. Spock be with us, who can stand against us?

After all, Dr. Spock stood with Ramsey Clark, a towering legal nitwit, against The Bomb and The War!

Soon, every Democrat who ditched the Brillcream infavor of Men's Hair Spray was courting the Dowagers of Death at  Planned Parenthood to help them slaughter children and pass out condoms in public schools.

In Philadelphia, a man with an MD went to work aborting babies in the black community - just like Maggie Sanger demanded.  This proud black man of medicine butcher full-term live children and received Federal Dollars to do so.

Dr. Kermit Gosnell is on trial, but you will not any report, or commentary of Gosnell's Gore in the pages of the Chicago Tribune or the Chicago Sun Times which owe fealty to Planned Parenthood and obey Governor Pat Quinn's boss Personal Pac President Boss Terry Cosgrove.

Here is what you might have missed -

An 18-page chapter in the Grand Jury report is entitled “The Intentional Killing of Viable Babies.” Gosnell was supposed to perform abortions, but because he often performed abortions on women who were well past the legal limit of 24 weeks, many of the fetuses were fully-formed and could survive if delivered. The practice of inducing labor, actually meant that many of the women gave birth. Sometimes they were told to sit on a toilet and expunge the baby, because Gosnell was not there to oversee the procedure. Other times, a baby would come out of the womb and Gosnell would take a live, screaming, kicking baby and sever its spinal cord with a snip of the scissors. It was a practice, the Grand Jury report alleges, that happened hundreds of times over the years, but because much of the paperwork and evidence was destroyed, there were only seven provable incidents.His young victims included Baby Boy A, nearly 7 and a half months, killed and discarded in a plastic shoe box. Baby Boy B, 28 weeks, was frozen forever in a gallon water bottle. Baby C was living in the world for 20 minutes before Williams, according to testimony by Cross, came in and extinguished the new life with a slice to the neck, as she’d seen Gosnell do.As also described in testimony, women were drugged up, most by employees with no medical training or certification to do so. More from TruTV:
Because the cramping from the laminaria and the Cytotec was so severe, the women were often in excruciating pain for hours at a time. Gosnell was usually not on the premises. This meant they were immediately drugged — often to the point of overdosing. Restoril, a sleep disorder treatment with muscle relaxant properties, was the drug of choice — often given in addition to the sedation packages.Most of the time, eight or ten women were kept in a single room, moaning and groaning in pain. Gosnell’s instructions were to drug them up as much as possible to “quiet them.”

Our Democrats are fine with this. Back in the day, Democrats were on the side of unborn, the innocent and helpless and then they got on "The Right Side of History"  with Dr. Kermit Gosnell, MD and the Dowagers of Death -Planned Parenthood.

Jonathan Alter AGAIN Proves He Knows Knothing About Chicago Politics

Jonathan Alter of Newsweek, MSNBC and The Barack Obama Cheerleading Squad, like most Progressives, understands zip, ziltch, nada about politics. I wet my strides reading his idiotic piece on Daley's Sunset. I also, received e-mails from folks in the know who also had mositened their pantaloons. A Smart Chicago Lawyer who also read Alter's nonsense noted -

What a pompous moron!

Alter's mom served on the Sanitary District Board -- three quarters of the population of Cook County did not even know her name.

Emanuel is not a native Chicagoan. He lived on the North Shore in New Trier Township. He had to move to Chicago when he wanted to run for Congress because he did not have the stones to challenge (drum roll) Mark Kirk. After being foisted upon the 5th District, succeeding his former friend Rod Blagojevich, most of his precinct organization from the City Water Department were sent to prison for campaigning on the government's dime.

Next to MSNBC Masterclown Chris Matthews, of course the nebbish Alter seems like Jake Arvey; however, the Lakeview Democrat, like most Hyde Parkers or Lakeshore Progressives would not know how to pull two voters together with two teams of oxen guided by two drovers with a hangover.

Jonathan Knows KNOW-thing. Cliffs Notes are the Progressives library.

Get this Drip's insight into the Daley Fallout ! This clown probably thinks that Bobaks is a pizza.

With Daley’s decision to retire at the end of his term, the path is cleared for Emanuel to resign as chief of staff after the midterms and move his family back to Chicago. It’s not 100 percent certain that he’ll do so, but the odds favor it. Whether he wins or not is a different question. As a native Chicagoan with roots in local politics (my mother was a politician there in the 1970s and ‘80s), I’m excited to watch this one unfold.

The handicapping is already underway, with Rep. Jesse Jackson Jr. currently favored by some analysts, mostly because there doesn’t seem to be another prominent African-American candidate to split the large black vote in Chicago. ( who, Bubbie? Jimmy the Two-Headed Boy? Jonny Boy - Jesse Junior is going through the bLago Buzz-saw still playing at the FED. Wake Up, Son!)

But there are a bunch of other candidates who might make a race more complicated. Jim Houlihan, the Cook County Assessor, and Tom Dart, the Cook County Sheriff, could get in. I’ve known Houlihan for nearly 40 years and he is smart, charming and (important to note, especially in Chicago) totally honest. David Hoffman, a corruption-fighting former inspector general who ran a spirited if unsuccessful campaign for Senate this year, is another possibility. It’s also possible that several local politicians who have said they aren’t interested will change their minds. ( Only Dart has a Base of Support, Junior.)

But Emanuel would be formidable too. He was elected to the House in 2002 with no prior experience in elective office. He had Daley’s support but it was still a bruising campaign that tested Rahm’s ability to translate his experience as a hard-charging White House aide into street-level campaigning. Chicago’s ethnic stew no longer votes exclusively along tribal lines, so his being Jewish isn’t the handicap some critics suggest.

( emphases my own)

There! Now, you have done it Jonathan, I wet my britches! Please . . .there it goes again! Why Lord did you make laughter so kidney challenging?

Oh, Hell No, Son! Rahm-a Lama- Dang- Dong shouts in phones. His 2002 Congressional Bid was Daley asking Skinny Sheahan to help Rahm. Jonathan Alter would not know Skinny Sheahan if Skinny was standing on his chest. The Polish Bushas would make mince-meat of Rahm; let alone a Hall full of Teamsters and Operating Engineers.

Stick to the Sierra Club, Sweetheart.

Here is how things will shake out by February - Terry Peterson will emerge as the Candidate and eventual Mayor.

1. Terry Peterson

2. Tom Dart

3. Doc Walls ( in it because it is an election)

That Jonathan is the final field.

Rahm Made Me Easter Breakfast

I wake early. Generally, I wake between 3:30 and 4:10 AM.  Easter Sunday is no exception.  I hit the floor and pray on my knees ( Memorare) hit the shower, shave and brush my buckers.  I'll read a bit and jot down some sentences about anything, as has been my practice since 1975 when I became a teacher.  I will pop over to Leo High School and check the e-mails and phone messages.  At 8 AM, I'll lock up, check the Sangamon Street side door to see if the pad lock is secure and head south on Vincennes to 116th, make a quick right hit Easter Mass at Sacred Heart Church.

Today was different.  

House sounds tend to pluck me from the arms of Morpheus - sump pump kicking in, furnace oddities that sort of stuff.  If any of the kids are staying at the house, I'll sleep with one eye open for their return from twenty-something adventures on Western Avenue.  

Today was different.

I heard the floors above me ( I sleep in the basement) creak and the sound of the refrigerator opening and closing, as well as the rustle of pans. Maybe, the Fruit of My Loins had come south from Wicker Park for a night of roistering with his contemporary Catholic League Alumni boon chums and was treating them to an omelet. Could be, because something smelled mighty tasty. The girls always go straight to bed, but my son goes all Food Channel, when lickered up - like his Paw.

I performed the daily Triple S, donned a pair of sharply creased chinos and blue steel Aran knit and headed up the stairs, " Toss a few on the plate for your Silver Haired Pappy, Son!"

No response.

Odd.

There, instead of my son, or one of my daughters was The Mayor of Chicago deftly swirling what appeared to be a wholesome skillet full of carefully diced green red and yellow peppers and onions.  I noticed a plate on the counter of crisp nuggets of sauteed pancetta and a cloth stuffed basket containing six biscuits.  The 55th Mayor of Chicago added a bowl of carefully beaten eggs with a dash of 2% milk into the pan and swirled the mixture of yellow, red, green and white goodness over the flames. " You have yet to pay your water bill and that had been sent out in January, if I'm not mistaken," said the 54th descendant of William Butler Ogden, " and why have you not had a water meter installed?  Just asking."

I was dumb-founded and for once in my flannel-mouthed life speechless.

The Mayor was all on task and yet he continued, " Look, you have said and written some pretty . . . over-the-top things about me - Coon Eyes, Mayor 9.5, Ballet Boy and such . . .I get it.  Most of your family seem to like me well-enough, but you seem to only want to be some kind of latitudinarian odd-ball, regular guy Democrat.  You have called me, in print mind you, a Prique.  I have kids, too.  Look.  I may not get your vote, but I'd sure like to change your heart. Sit done and have a nosh of breakfast."

Finally, I was able to speak and asked, " How'd you get in?"

" Back door was unlocked.  I checked your garage and every thing seemed in order.  Do you always leave it unlocked?" he fired back questions.

I told him that my neighbors were all cops, firemen, FBI and Secret Service agents.  

" Whatever," the mayor shrugged and added the pre-crisped and drained pancetta to the bubbling omelet and concentrated on its outcome.

" Chuy Garcia make you breakfast?"

I laughed an obvious reply to negative.

" Well has he?" Rahm Emanuel had cast off the happy chef demeanor and laser-ed his black rimmed eyes and parted his thin lips to reveal his ossein and metaphorical fangs.

"No, Chuy Garcia has not cooked me breakfast; nor have I had the pleasure of meeting the man," I feigned backbone in retort.

"But you have met me!"  His voice was pure menace, but his culinary manipulations belied his tone as he plated up and served my breakfast of cold fresh squeezed orange juice, hot black coffee, Omelet Ala Rahm, hand rolled biscuits and wedges of melon. " Eat. Enjoy."

I tucked away at the swell meal, like a guy going to the chair. . .perhaps I might.

The Mayor waxed on, " Old Coon-eyes, Old 9.5, The Dancing Prique just cooked you an Easter Breakfast. Me. I rub elbows with Big People, Hickey.  You are a @#$%ing termite!!!!  A delusional know-it all who can't be grateful for all that I have done.  All that I have given up - like Sleep!  Yeah, this Prique made you breakfast!  You got anything to say?"

I held up an index finger miming a period of grace before my response, because my pie-hole was stuffed.  I chewed carefully and savored every dancing flavor from the fork-full of breakfast bounty. Finally, when I had cleared my oral orifice of every particle of primary fuel, I answered.

"Hey, thanks for breakfast,"  

The Mayor cleaned the pots, skillets, sauce pans, baking pans and cutlery. He sprayed the prep-counter with Windex all purpose anti-biotic cleaner, as well as the stove top and scrubbed every station in the cooking process and wiped the handle of icebox. 

Without another word, Rahm Emanuel zipped up his wind-breaker and went out the back door.  He beeped open the door of his black 2015 Toyota Prius C and pulled out of my driveway.

I thought for a moment.

" Prique," I muttered, "but one damn fine breakfast."

Give Disney the Brush; Not Because of a Tragedy, But Because of Old Walt

 “To create a land that would make this dream reality, we pictured ourselves far from civilization, in the remote jungles of Asia and Africa.” WALT DISNEY 

“We knew that Disney was aware that this was a problem, and yet they encourage people to be there,”  Disney Guest in the wake of the horrific death of a toddler at Disney Resort 

To be perfectly fair, Old Walt intended to have guests be awed by mechanical plastic alligators in Anaheim.  Disney today is a very far stretch from Walt's vision - it is a corporate banana republic.

Disney will do everything to keep the horrific death of a baby snatched by one of Florida's ubiquitous alligators - in The Happiest Place on Earth's controlled environments - out of Court.  No signs for alligators?  Why worry.  Disney has plenty of worry and well it should.

I expect the Disney guest, quoted above, will get a threatening call from the suits for " The Happiest Place on Earth - that you can shell out a year's salary for you and the family."

Already there are voices calling for 'examination of parents,' as in the recent Cincinnati Zoo incident when a toddler managed to get into the gorilla exhibit and escaped only because of the quick thinking zoo response team. The magnificent Silverback was killed and the world seemed to want to lynch the parents of the little boy.  Now, Disney ranked the 66th on the Forbes 500  appears to be at DEF CON Six.

Disney's beaches remained closed on Thursday and the company was "conducting a swift and thorough review of all of our processes and protocols," Jacquee Wahler, vice president of Walt Disney World Resort, said in a statement Thursday.
"This includes the number, placement and wording of our signage and warnings," she said in the statement.
There was a "no-swimming" sign near the water, but there were no alligator warning signs where the attacked occurred, a Disney spokesperson confirmed Wednesday.

Disney, like McDonald's, is not my cup of tea -flying, steaming, or otherwise.



McDonald's lost any and all appeal for me when it exchanged the winking fat guy, "Speedee" for the predatory child molesting Ronald McDonald. I refused to take my kids to McDonald's ( 1984-Present) and encouraged them to consume products made by Mom & Pop joints in the neighborhood.  Primarily because the corporate culture creeped me out.

Likewise, Disney went south for me during the late 1970's and 1980's when the oily suits replaced lovable Old Walt and anyone else with his DNA. Yet I am widowed Dad who was joyfully married to an artistic woman who loved her Mickey and Minnie. The Dude abides.

My kids loved Disney!  What little kids do not?  I have probably the most comprehensive and thoroughly useless VHS collection of the Disney Canon from Steamboat Willie to Lilo and Stitch. We even went to Orlando on two occasions.  They sold beer at Epcot. I joined a Universal Brotherhood of Disney Dad's in Tow!

I friended Dad's from France, an Orangeman from Belfast, a Sikh and a Latvian auto dealer.  At Disney Resorts you can hear -

"Maintenant écoute. Rapide les pleurs . Tout le monde doit attendre en ligne . Ce voyage côte votre maman et moi un poumon . Maintenant , éteignez les ouvrages hydrauliques!" French

"Tagad klausīties . Quick raudāšana . Ikvienam ir jāgaida rindā . Šis ceļojums krasts jūsu Mamma un Me plaušu . Tagad , izslēdziet ūdens darbus Latvian

In every tongue!  Translated to - " Now listen. Quit the crying. Everyone must wait in line. This trip cost your Mom and Me a lung. Now, turn off the water works!"

To which, in every tongue, wives would override with " Lighten up! For Once?  Okay?"

I make light of Disney . . .they can take it.

They dish it out aplenty, as well.

I do not make light of the horrific loss of a sweet angel to Melissa and Matt Graves of Nebraska.  My God, there is nothing so horrific as the loss of a child.

My hope is that maybe families will begin to see the World of Wonder dreamed up by the Chicago North Side Irishman, back in the 1950's.  Go to places where America's past is honored. Go to places that give children a sense of wonder - right in their own backyards,  No lines and you won't have to cough up a lung.

My kids seek out great hamburgers, because they know what they are and who makes them.  If they want toys, take them to a toy store; Top Notch throws together some serious burger over on 95th Street.

Disney and McDonalds are business; not family.

Walt said it best, “A man should never neglect his family for business."

This Time Last Year - The Journolist; This Year - Let's Get Rupert!

I am never disappointed in the Media, though I am generally appalled by the Media. The Media ( not individual reporters, copy editors, or investigative professionals) tend to be the pampered children of privilege, or protected creatures who spout contrarian opinion to common sense, human dignity, and reality.

The Media are America's collective "the makers of fashion" in pop culture and politics. Would, for example a Lady Gaga be a finalist on America's Got Talent? Likewise, who creates a Congressman Weiner, other than the Media? The Media made academia a safe have for the likes of terrorist and droning gasbag Billy-boy Ayers and his odious Old Lady - Northwestern Law Prof Who Can't Practice Law Bernardine Dohrn. The Media decided that police officers are the universally brutal systemic racist Simon Lagrees of post-Racial America. Bullying is the sole property of the Media.

Last year, at this time, the Journolist Scandal bubbled, but never really boiled with anything like fury. The Jounolist is a cabal of rich, privileged Blue Chip university grad-punksters that the Media graces with license. This Licentious Journo-List played havoc with the truth all through the 2008 election cycle and beyond.

Who are the Jounrolistas? One gent identified this cadre with sharp and witty accuracy - they are largely nerds, dweebs, and gents who are repelled by the thought of conjugal affection with any female. They took particular delight in their attempted ravaging of the Palin Family. Sarah Palin is a beautiful woman who happens to be happily married to a union man and the mother of universally welcomed children. Palins don't abort. Moreso, they breed.

Last summer, Mark Judge, a writer for The Daily Caller ( liberal journalist, attorney, Fox TV News legal analyst, and Leo High School Board Member Tamara Holder also contributes to DC) offered this dandy assessment of the core of journolist ire

Andrew Sullivan’s obsessive hatred of Palin goes far beyond the cynicism of a journalist; there is a kind of primordial spasm of rage against something so marvelously lovely, so downright awesome. It’s like that guy a few years ago who took a hammer to Da Vinci’s sculpting of David. The beauty was unbearable! Palin is an archetype that the left does not know how to contain or control: the hot female jock who also happens to be cool. The left hates good-looking Republican women and jocks, so combining the two is like an exorcist hitting a demon with not only prayers, but water blessed by the Pope.

There’s usually one hot female jock like Palin in every school. It’s a girl who is so stunning that even teachers find themselves staring, yet she is too modest to acknowledge her beauty. She plays it down or changes the subject when someone brings it up. It may be because she was raised with good values, the desire to be humble, but it could also be because she wants to be taken seriously as a jock. Palin is a triple threat: a pretty jock who is also incredibly sexy (pretty and sexy are two different things). In high school she was the kind of girl that the school newspaper nerds – the future Journolisters – despised. Pummeled with so much raw beauty, athleticism and sex appeal – and she’s nice, too, goddamn her – these fearless chroniclers of reality were left sputtering – and seething.

Like the plot of a Tina Fey script, Ezra Klein's Kommandos controlled the Media narrative, until called on it - by the non-Media. That would be anyone or thing that stands opposed to full agreement with AV-Club/'We Are So Much Smarter' Cabal of Gleeks.

The Journolistas howl, "Fox and Breitbart must be behind this bullying! Therefore, let's get some pusillanimous payback!"

Welcome to summer of Rupert. Rupert Murdoch is an Empire of Opinion that runs counter to the Nerdocracy that is the American Media. The American Media has political pit-poodles like Senator Dick Durbin of Illinois who began yapping for Congressional Hearings aimed at Murdoch's problems in Perfidious Albion.

Sen. Dick Durbin is always a contrarian delight, whether he is parsing for Planned Parenthood, calling American miltary folks Nazi's, or trying to make things just a bit more comfortable for our Gitmo guests. If Durbin is for it, I generally feel that it is a really bad idea. Sen Durbin is a Tapioca Bernie Sanders. Any digging at great Federal expense for Murdoch Muddy Water will be a dry well, here in the Colonies. It will probably happen, because Murdoch represents the Yin to the Media's Yang; therfore, the Progressive Pit Poodle will go on his nerdy Fox Hunt.

The Media is a abuzz with the arrest of Titian Tress ed Murdoch Babe*, who was married to the Shrek-like Ross Kemp until his Rainbow Randy Roisterings ( Ross, it seems batted from the other side of plate) were cause for marital infidelity divorce proceeding, much objected to by an openly Gay MP. This homophobic harpy had to go! The Rebekkah Brooks titillation's will take up the balance of summer, until the lady is released.

All in all, the Media is a hypocritical band of nerdy Mean Girl Boys. They will always have a place at the table, until people decide to not accept their nonsense.

http://iowntheworld.com/blog/?p=29858 Get a load of these dweebs!


http://nymag.com/daily/intel/2011/07/transatlantic_heat_wave_temper.html Rupert Agonistes!

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/phone-hacking/8639887/Rebecca-Brooks-flame-haired-Queen-of-Fleet-Street-News-of-the-World-phone-hacking.htmlOur Miss Brooks - I know a cohort of lusty males who would vie for this maiden's affections, or as Roofer/Philsopher Eddie Carrol might offer, " I'd take a hard run at her."

Catch Chris Kennedy at Wilmington Catfish Days? Governor? Senator? Come on! It's Catfish Gravy! Open Up!

2009 Catfish Days Schedule

IF . . .Chris Kennedy brings the wife and Kids to Wilmington Catfish Days over the Weekend, I will go all John McCain Loyal for his Campaign for U.S. Senator from Illinois, Governor? We'll need to think on that.

Honor Bright! I did a daily McCain Post for well over year and every one of them 'Hack Perfect,' just like, Mr. Straight-talk had dropped a few nickels my way!

Picture Mr. Chris Kennedy wandering Water Street and ambling along the Mill Race.

Chris - " This Chowdah is Exceptional! Really thick."

Wilmington Wildcat Grad '67; KofC and Vietnam Vet -" Son, that's Catfish Gravy. It goes on the biscuits. Your cup is empty, Son. Get over and fill her up over to The Rustic. Now, just get the beer and forget the Women's Reproductive Health and Green nonsense. Save yourself some grief. Ask the bartender where you can get a pint of Doc's stink bait, as you're cane-poling above the damn. That's votes, Son."

Catfish Days is a great family celebration and great time with great people.

Politicians talk through people.

If Chris Kennedy goes to Catfish Days, I'll not only vote for him but post a Kennedy Love Piece every morning.

Not gonna happen.

All of your folks take I 55 or I 57 south. Exit where it says Wilmngton and you will be at Catfish Days!


ALL EVENTS ON THE NORTH ISLAND UNLESS OTHERWISE NOTED
Events subject to change without notice
Last updated: 7/1/09
HAPPENINGS ALL WEEKEND
CARNIVAL-With $15.00 All You Can Ride Specials on Thursday & Sunday

FOOD VENDORS-- A great variety of food all weekend

MUD VOLLEYBALL-Get a little muddy (okay a lot) and have loads of fun

BEER GARDEN --Serving ice cold beverages Friday- Sunday

MOMS COOKIES - "Support our Troops" activities all weekend


THURSDAY----TEEN NIGHT SPONSORED BY RIVERFRONT LANES
5pm- 9pm Miss Wilmington Contestants Fund Raising Events

5pm-6:30pm- Waiting Til Friday- Local Teen Band

6 pm-10:-00pm $15.00 --All You Can Ride Night at Carnival

6pm- 8pm Meet Jammer the Joliet Jackhammers Mascot

7pm-10pm Teen Karaoke

8pm-1030 pm Teen Guitar Hero Contest - Sponsored by Mar Theatre


FRIDAY-- SPONSORED BY WILMINGTON CHAMBER OF COMMERCE
6pm-- Carnival & Food Vendors open

6pm --Beer garden opens

6:30pm - Jim Nesci Reptile Show

8pm --Live Entertainment -Featuring Copy Cats with A Blue Dude Performance Playing a wide variety of music that's sure to entertain

9:30pm-- Friday Night Fireworks-Sponsored by Catfish Days Committee


SATURDAY
9am-4pm --Flea Market/Craft Show-downtown

10:30am --Woodys Bike & Pet Parade-Sponsored by Skinners Animal Clinic (Line-up begins at 10am at Booth Central School - parade route is Jackson St to Main to Baltimore to North Island. Awards/Trophies presented at stage on North Island after Parade)

11:00am- Bike Safety Course- Sponsored by Wilmington Police Dept & Sulphur Springs Arbor of Gleaners

11:00 am- Diamond Dance Co. & WHS Spirit Line Performance-Mar Theatre

11:30am Baby Wilmington Contest- Mar Theatre- Sponsored by Finale Dance Studio

Noon-Wilmington Fire Dept. Fire Fights-Downtown

Noon-Carnival, Food Vendors and Beer Garden Opens

12pm -- Magic Show- featuring Bozo Alum Jim Brown

12:30pm- Diamond Dance Co. Performance- Mar Theatre

1:00pm- Miss Wilmington Pageant- Mar Theatre

1:00pm- Belly Dancing Performance - by Johara Dancers Watch and then learn the art of belly dancing

1pm-4pm Petting Zoo and Pony Rides- Sponsored by Wilmington Public Library

2:00pm- Professional Ventriloquist- Bob Rumba

3:00pm-- Juggling Performance-Come see Circus Boy Bobby Hunt perform amazing Juggling acts and great fun for all

12:30pm- Diamond Dance Co. / Spirit Line Performance

8pm --Live Entertainment -Featuring Sundance Playing a wide variety of music that's sure to entertain www.thebandsundance.com

9:30 pm - Outdoor Laser Light Show-Sponsored by the City of Wilmington


SUNDAY
8am-Catfish Days 5k Run-Sponsored by Fitness Advantage

Noon- Carnival and Food Vendors Open

1pm Catfish Days Parade Parade begins @ Water St. and Mill St. to Ryan St. to Wilmington High School

2pm-Beer Garden Opens

2:30pm-- Coloring contest winners announced-

2pm-6pm $15.00 all you can ride at Carnival

2pm-6pm --- D.J./ Karaoke- provided by Rockin Karaoke

3pm- 6pm -- Touch a Truck- Get up close to a variety of unique vehicles

2pm- Wilmington Community Band Performance-Veterans Memorial Park

3:30pm- American Legion Band Performance-Veterans Memorial Park