Got this in an e-mail from Jim Baxter. There’s more than a grain of truth in this:

Dear American liberals, leftists, social progressives, socialists, Marxists and Obama supporters, et al:

We have stuck together since the late 1950’s, but the whole of this latest election process has made me realize that I want a divorce. I know we tolerated each other for many years for the sake of future generations, but sadly, this relationship has run its course. Our two ideological sides of America cannot and will not ever agree on what is right so let’s just end it on friendly terms. We can smile and chalk it up to irreconcilable differences and go our own way. Here is a model separation agreement:

Our two groups can equitably divide up the country by landmass each taking a portion. That will be the difficult part, but I am sure our two sides can come to a friendly agreement. After that, it should be relatively easy! Our respective representatives can effortlessly divide other assets since both sides have such distinct and disparate tastes. We don’t like redistributive taxes so you can keep them. You are welcome to the liberal judges and the ACLU. Since you hate guns and war, we’ll take our firearms, the cops, the NRA and the military. You can keep Oprah, Michael Moore and Rosie O’Donnell (You are, however, responsible for finding a bio-diesel vehicle big enough to move all three of them).

We’ll keep the capitalism, greedy corporations, pharmaceutical companies, Wal-Mart and Wall Street. You can have your beloved homeless, homeboys, hippies and illegal aliens. We’ll keep the hot Alaskan hockey moms, greedy CEO’s and rednecks. We’ll keep the Bibles and give you NBC and Hollywood.

You can make nice with Iran and Palestine and we’ll retain the right to invade and hammer places that threaten us. You can have the peaceniks and war protesters. When our allies or our way of life are under assault, we’ll help provide them security.

We’ll keep our Judeo-Christian values. You are welcome to Islam, Scientology, Humanism and Shirley McClain. You can also have the U. N. but we will no longer be paying the bill.

We’ll keep the SUVs, pickup trucks and oversized luxury cars. You can take every Subaru station wagon you can find.

You can give everyone healthcare if you can find any practicing doctors. We’ll continue to believe healthcare is a luxury and not a right. We’ll keep The Battle Hymn of the Republic and the National Anthem. I’m sure you’ll be happy to substitute Imagine, I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing, Kum Ba Ya or We Are the World.

We’ll practice trickle down economics and you can give trickle up poverty your best shot. Since it often so offends you, we’ll keep our history, our name and our flag.

Would you agree to this? If so, please pass it along to other like minded liberal and conservative patriots and if you do not agree, just hit delete. In the spirit of friendly parting, I’ll bet you ANWAR which one of us will need whose help in 15 years.

Sincerely,

John J. Wall, Law Student and an American

P.S. Also, please take Barbara Streisand & Jane Fonda with you.

I am, quite frankly, tired of hearing how “bad” we Americans are for the earth. China is the leading producer of so-called “greenhouse emissions” and yet the US is the one being told to comply to a treaty we didn’t ratify. All the Euro-weenie countries who DID ratify Kyoto sure talked a good game – and it looks like only four of the however many might actually come close to their Kyoto goals. All talk, no action. And the US is the bad guy?

Get bent, world. Your opinion does not run this country, no matter what Obama and the Clintons may tell you.

Chat ya later…

Thank you for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, God bless you all, Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

The major news outlets are wondering why they are losing readers, listeners, viewers, and so on:

When 111 Democrats voted to go to war in Iraq, the media called it “George W. Bush’s War.” When three Republicans (in name only) voted for the spectacular spending of our great-grandchildren’s money pork- and earmark-laden stimulus bill, it is being hailed as a “bipartisan effort.”

Chat ya later…

Thank you for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, God bless you all, Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

I am conservative.

I know that this comes as a surprise to most of you, and I apologize for the shock to your system.

One of the hallmarks of conservatism is a resistance to change. Not a hate of change, but a resistance – in other words, there should be a really good reason for changing something, other than “I don’t think we need to do it that way anymore.”

Saying that he wanted a more “relaxed” atmosphere – since running the country is a laid back, way-cool thing to do anyway – Mr. Obama has decreed that ties and jackets are no longer required in the highest office. I may have mentioned not liking to wear ties, but I sure wouldn’t treat the Oval Office as a conference room – it should be all business, all the time. There is no other way to treat the station. At the same time, asking the country to cut back and make sacrifices while cranking the office thermostat up is kinda hypocritical, isn’t it? Sure, with the temp above 80 then wearing a jacket and tie is a bit uncomfortable, but if you were to display a bit of common sense and put the thermostat where wearing a jacket an tie would be smart – say, between 68 and 72 degrees – then you’ve kept your image clean and your hypocrisy to a minimum. Both traits, by the way, that the American Public seem to enjoy. At least, when they aren’t swooning about speech patterns.

As you may be aware, the President paid a visit to the Valley of the Sun, arriving Tuesday afternoon after signing a $787 billion “stimulus” package in Denver. His arrival, like the arrivals of other dignitaries, tied up traffic at Sky Harbor and on the already-congested freeways here in the Phoenix area. No change there – no problem.

The President decided that the traditional venue of the Arizona Biltmore was not “edgy” enough – or perhaps, since it’s not in need of foreclosure relief, not “newsy” enough – and stayed instead at the InterContinental Montelucia Resort and Spa in Paradise Valley. The Montelucia started bankruptcy protection foreclosure proceedings earlier this month. The Biltmore, having been around for more than eighty years, is a bastion of conservatism – in other words, they make a profit by knowing their limits and working within them, while still providing excellent service and accommodations. OK, the Presidential suite at the Biltmore is less than 2800 square feet, and has more than two bedrooms, and doesn’t have a private pool, and I’m pretty sure the bathtub is just a bathtub and not “a seashell on the bottom of the ocean” but it is not being leveraged in a foreclosure proceeding, either. Every sitting President has stayed at the Biltmore since it opened, and has a portrait hanging in the hall. We’ll see if Mr. Obama follows suit, or wants to avoid anything connected with McCain. Or, perhaps he will continue to lead by example and spend $3,000 – $4,000 per night instead of merely $1,600 for the Biltmore.

The President was scheduled to speak at Dobson High School in Mesa on Wednesday, campaigning to drum up support for his boondoogle porkulus “stimulus” bill. (side note – stimulus – from the Greek, stim, or large pole, and ulus, roughly translated as “where the sun don’t shine”). Naturally, Dobson High is expected to receive lots of “stimulus” money. Good thing, too – they’re going to need to pay for the new sod somehow.

And this is where the flow of this post comes to a screeching halt.

New SOD? To “spruce up” the campus of a desert city high school?

Oh, what a good idea. This will accomplish so much – let’s see, it will prop up the illusion that landscaping here in a DESERT is the same as anywhere with natural rainfall that exceeds the number of sunny days. It will allow the President to think that Dobson looks real purty all the time. It will make conservatives wonder how the hell they can afford new sod when there are programs within the school that are being cut due to budget restrictions. It will provide some much-needed labor for the current crop of illegals working within the school system as janitors. Oh, you didn’t know? Yeah – Mesa’s mayor, Scott Smith, and Mesa’s Police Chief George Gascon are big pro-illegal movers and shakers. Mr. Smith wants Mesa to be known as a “sanctuary city” – that is, if you are afraid that you will be busted for being illegal in another Valley city, go to Mesa, where the Police have a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy with regards to your ability to legally work in this country.

My question is, where will the sod go after Obama wings out of here? Or, will they try to keep it watered, only to watch it wither and die when they have to further cut their landscape budget? Did I mention we live in a DESERT?

Mr. Obama could have “stimulused” us much better from his office in DC, where he wouldn’t be forced to look upon the hoi-poloi whilst engaging in serious grown-up politics.

No, I didn’t vote for him. BUt, since he is now my country’s leader, he sure better respond to those he is leading. Unless, of course, he only wants to serve one term, like Carter – come to think of it, that may be the best way to curb him.

Chat ya later…

Thank you for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, God bless you all, Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

I’m getting too old for this kind of excitement on the job.

So – those of you who have been … concerned … about my temporary career choice (cab driver) can relax, and take a deep breath.

Before I tell you, know that I am physically fine, mentally so over it, and pretty much almost complete with the “Learning From Your Past” phase. I am referring to the fact that I drove my final shift Saturday night, a twelve-hour event that culminated with bloodshed – not, however, my own.

I was having what I thought was a pretty good shift – I had scored a six-passenger Windstar van, and was catching the normal dispatches, the five passenger requests, and the van requests. Pretty sweet setup, if you can get a van, and I even convinced another driver, who had not driven a van before, to get one if he could. I don’t know how his night ended up; I didn’t see him before I went home to compare notes.

At any rate – I had been running with passengers most of the night. My longest dead-head was about six miles; other than that I had a paying customer in the back almost constantly and I was never more than five minutes without a dispatch. The farthest I had to reach to snag a ride was two “zones” away. The FBR was at TPC Scottsdale, and even though Yellow/AAA had scored an exclusive cab stand for the tournament, they couldn’t keep up and were begging for help – after insisting on police enforcement of the exclusive agreement up to Saturday afternoon. Of course, being the nice people that two competing companies are, Discount didn’t rub it in their noses…much. Personally, I never got to the FBR site – I was in the area, but with that many taxis covering the high demand at one site, the rest of the Valley was looking for rides too – after all, it was the Saturday Night Before The Super Bowl. The dispatch board was only empty for a few seconds around 1900, but filled up after that and stayed full until well after 0400. A good night to be driving.

I was in the West Valley and got called to a bar for a run. Seems a Steelers fan had run afoul of the locals at a country bar, and the management though it would be best if he were taken home quickly. Since he was in no shape to drive himself, I gladly picked him up. As we were getting ready to pull away, the manager handed me the passenger’s keys, and mentioned that if I came right back, he had two other guys to get home also. I told him I would do what I could, and took the hapless Steelers fan to his place.

When I got back to the bar, there were two guys, Mexican by their appearances, who were helping each other stand up. One had a Blue shirt on (i will call him “blue”) and one had a white Cardinals sweatshirt on (i will call him “red”). Just as I pulled up, Red could no longer maintain his side of the agreement, and went down in a heap with crossed legs. Blue tried valiantly, but could not support Red’s weight by himself. I got out and, in violation of company policy, helped Blue get Red back on his feet. We got Red into the middle seat of the van and closed the sliding door. Blue turned to me, held out his hand, and thanked me for my assistance with his brother in law. I shook his hand, and he got in the front passenger seat. I got back in, and we took off.

(normally, i enjoy driving around a couple of drunks who aren’t quite sure where they want to go. i’ll have to tell you about those encounters sometime. Mr. Back-Of-The-Skull-Hair-Controller was working overtime, and i was ignoring him this time.)

Blue said to head for 43rd and Camelback, so off we went. When we were about halfway there, they decided that they needed to go home instead, so we turned around and headed for Dysart and Camelback. We were on Indian School Road, and they were chatting back and forth, slipping from English to Spanish and back again. I was half-way listening to their conversation (it was a little after the state’s 0200 closing time – about 0220 – and i was concentrating on the infrequent after-hours traffic) when I caught the words from Red’s mouth – “tu Madre” – but nothing before. There was nothing after, as Blue dove between the front seats and commenced to beat on Red. By “beat on” I mean that Blue was taking full overhand swings and connecting repeatedly, while yelling loudly in Spanish. I hit the “record” button on the dashcam. It didn’t record. I hit it again. Still nothing. Blue’s feet and legs were kicking wildly, and I had to squeeze against the driver’s side door to avoid being hit. I was looking for a place to pull over so I could either bail or try to get them out of the cab. I reached up and hit the record button a few more times, but it still didn’t work. I held the emergency button (located where only the driver can reach it) and then went back to avoiding the legs (which had kicked the receipt printer to plastic components by now) and looking for a place to pull over. I’m not sure, but I stopped counting when I saw forty swings, and I think I missed a few in between those. It’s amazing what the mind can do in overdrive.

Suddenly, it was over. Blue got back into the front seat, turned to me, said “I apologize for disrespecting you and your vehicle. He insulted my mother.” Then he passed out.

I looked in the passenger mirror (if you have a Windstar, you know what i mean – it’s a convex mirror on the liner, between the visors, that flips down. i keep it flipped down when i get a van.) and saw that Red was also passed out. I kept heading for Dysart and Camelback – I figured if they were passed out when I got there, I would just unload them and leave.

Suddenly, Red sat up, and mumbled. I checked over my shoulder, and he was holding his shirt to his mouth. His eyes were swollen shut, and blood was dribbling out of one ear. He mumbled again, this time a little clearer, and I made out “Dysart and Canelback.” I assured him I was headed that way. When I reached that intersection, he said “North” and a little while later “Right” and then in short order “right,” “left” and “turn in here.”

Red paid the meter (huh- no tip?!?) and stumbled out the side door and to the gate in the side yard. I looked over at Blue and said “Sir? Where do you need to go?”

He looked a little disoriented when he opened his eyes after I said that, and he looked at me and said, “I live here, too. Thank you for the ride. Have you been paid?” I assured him that yes, the meter had been paid (deciding that I really didn’t want to ask for a tip) and he got out and also stumbled through the gate. I pulled out, and remembered the silver nail-on numbers on the mailbox post as my headlights swept over them.

I got back to Camelback and hammered it eastbound for the yard. It was about 0245, but I figured I had a couple of calls to make, at least. I called dispatch first, and they told me to find a lighted spot to safely pull into; they would have the police meet me. They were also contacting the Road Supervisor. I stayed on the phone with dispatch until I got to the QT at 99th and Camelback, told them where I was, then parked. I didn’t really want to check the cab, but I had to. When I opened the driver’s side slider, the first thing that caught my eye was the amount of blood on the seat and floor, mostly pooled on the threshold, and the bills that were bled upon. It looked like Red was holding the remainder of their drinking fund, and had left it in the van when he got out. Now, I wasn’t worried so much about not getting tipped. On the seat was a watch with a broken band and what appeared to be either a tooth or part of a tongue in between more blood pools and drops. I didn’t check it any closer to ascertain the origin – I’ve seen enough episodes of CSI that I didn’t move or touch anything. I only looked with my eyes and my mini-mag flashlight. There was blood on the back of the driver’s seat, on the slider’s panel, and in the flip-down cupholder.

My first thought was that the van would probably be late on the turn-in.

My phone rang, and it was the Road Supervisor. He was in Mesa, and would be heading my way. He would stop at the Glendale yard first, and if I hadn’t gotten there yet he would head on over to where I was. Right after he hung up, a cruiser pulled up. The officers introduced themselves, and looked in the van. The senior officer asked me where I had dumped the body. I said he had walked into his place under his own power. He just shook his head.

The upshot of the police inspection? I got an incident report number, and that was it. Since I was not harmed, and there was only property damage, no charges could be filed. They would check out where I dropped them off, but if no one pressed any charges there, there would be no action there either. I asked about the bills in the blood, and they said they were mine, since they didn’t have any account attached to them and no way to tell how long they had been in the cab before the blood got on them. I thanked them for their help, and then asked if I could borrow a pair of evidence gloves, so as to avoid touching the blood directly. The junior officer chuckled as he handed me a pair, and said that he hoped there was enough in there to pay for cleaning. I told him I hoped so too.

I got a plastic bag from the counter guy inside, and placed the bills in the bag. Then I compressed the bag in my hands, peeled the gloves off over the bag to kind of seal it all together, and headed for the yard. I was there for about five minutes before the RS showed up, and the yard guys were marveling that I didn’t get touched during the melee. The RS took pictures, and I asked him (discreetly) about the bills – he said the same thing as the police, that since they were in my cab, and there was no way to trace them, that they were mine. Then he took the van and parked it in the accident lot, with instructions not to touch it, since it had to have a HazMat clean up done to it. The van would be out for at least a week.

I got the inspection sheet from the yard man, and checked out with dispatch. I turned in the watch, and asked about the bills – they said the same thing, that any cash in the cab, whether it was a penny or a Benjamin, belonged to the person that found it. That was good enough for me. I headed home. I was suddenly very, very tired.

When I got home, more CSI lessons came into play. I got a stainless steel mixing bowl, filled it halfway with water, and put about a cup of bleach into the water. Using a pair of exam gloves (not as weird as you might think – remember, we have five four dogs and five cats and i also use them for messy work – painting, staining, plastering…) I peeled open the package and dropped it into the bowl. I worked the bills apart, and scrubbed them, letting them soak after I scrubbed, then scrubbed them again and rinsed them under running water. I made sure to leave the blood in the bowl as much as possible. All the bills came out pretty good, and I laid them out to dry on a kitchen towel. I counted them, and there was enough to pay for the cleaning, but I didn’t have to pay for the cleaning, so it made a nice tip instead.

I laid down, since I had to get to church soon, but TMBWitW woke up and asked how my night went. I told her, and we both said it was my final shift.

I am going to miss driving the cab, but I am just getting too old for this much excitement on the job.

Chat ya later…

Thank you for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, God bless you all, listen to The O Word on BlogTalkRadio, Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

(disclaimer – i started this on sunday evening, after waking up from my post-church “nap” and had to take an overnight break for more sleep before finishing it monday morning)

So – which would be a priority in a Congress of this country?

A – securing the borders and ensuring that no unauthorized persons would be able to enter, or

B – legislation that would protect private industry in the event of a stupid consumer.

The correct answer, in this bizarro time and place, would be “B” – that is, at the urging of the Rubber Manufacturers Association Congress made it illegal for any retailer of tires to handle, adjust, mount, or repair any tire more than ten years old. At the same time, they have been tightening up the regulations for repairing tires in general.

I found this out the hard way today. I was lucky enough to pick up not one but two nails in the right rear tire. They happened to be about an inch and a half apart, well within the “repairable area” as defined by earlier legislation. However, due to other regulations, because they were within ninety degrees of each other, the tire could not be patched by the company I bought them from (not wanting to give them bad publicity since it’s not their fault that Congress is too interested in private industry, I will refer to them as “Biscount Tires”). However, since I had bought the road hazard warranty, they would replace the tire for free. Good thing – the tires on the beast run about $160 each. Roughly. Of course, “free” doesn’t include a new road hazard warranty, or lifetime balancing and valve stems, or the environmental fee, so the “free” tire costs about $40.00.

The tire was not in stock, so they offered to put my spare on and I could come back in a day or two to get the new tire mounted up. The offer to put my spare on was made prior to them looking at my spare, and with the caveat that if it was in bad shape they would have to do something else.

(a little background here – when i replaced all four of the tires about a year and a half ago, i asked them to take the best of the old set and put it on as my spare. the shop told me that the spare i had was in better shape than any of the ones i was replacing, so the spare was left alone)

When they checked the DOT number on the spare, it turned out that what I had was, in fact, the factory spare from the 1998 model year. They informed me that they could not install the spare as it would violate the “ten year old” rule. They were, however, nice enough to “loan” me a used tire from out back. Hmm – I know the spare is good, as I’ve had occasion to use it (I run over nails a lot) and have not had reason to question it’s road-worthiness. But, they were willing to mount up a used tire from their junk pile and put THAT on my vehicle. I felt so secure with that knowledge…

In talking to the manager of that particular Biscount Tire store, I found out that Wal-Mart won’t even be selling tires after 2010 or ’11 due to the new laws. The “ten year old” rule came about around one or two years ago, and I must have gotten my tires replaced just before it was implemented.

“Free” does not mean “no cost” anymore.

We’ll chat more later…

Thank you for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, God bless you all, listen to The O Word on BlogTalkRadio, Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!