What your hard earned tax dollars are going for

Senators sell their votes. They use our money as capital. They buy greater power over our lives, using our money. They make a law and say, "Comply or else," and it is our money that funds it. We are financing our own enslavement. 

You no longer have our consent

Laura Ingraham's speech at the Code Red rally was a stem winder. Unfortunately, Blogspot is having a hissy fit and won't let me load it. I'll keep trying. In the meantime:

Pretty much sums the prevailing attitude

A series of photos showing the line of people trying to get into the Senate Office buildings, and a bemused Senator and his staff wondering what is all the fuss and bother out here:

Code Red Rally- 15 Dec 09

Brisk little rally on the side of the Capitol, about 5000
people, give or take:

A little more perspective here:

Pitchforks, people!

        Michele Bachmann!

Scrubs

Big fan of the old show, thought the finale was superb, figured syndication, re-runs, I'm good. But, they bring it back! So, I watched the premier. Like the premise, think Dr. Denise is quite the hot young thing, but they are just trying way too hard to be Scrubs. Relax, guys, got nothin' to prove. Be a new show, not a painful shadow of the old one.

Tea Party- the Documentary Film

Schlub and Mrs. attended the DC premiere of "Tea Party- the Documentary Film" last night at the Reagan Center. Since Schlub was present during the actual 9/12 march (see below) and Mrs. wasn't (wanted to go shopping. Shopping! Can you believe it?), Schlub wanted her to see what she missed. I mean, Macy's will always be there, but how often do you get to storm the Capitol with a million of your friends?

So, we went. Senator Jim Demint, Congresspeople's Tom Price, Joe Wilson, and  Marsha Blackburn were there, as well as Dick Armey. Here's a picture of them and the cast handing out awards:

If you get out your magnifying glass, you might be able to identify them.

Gotta say, Tom Price can deliver a stem winder.

So, after a lot of self-congratulations, we got into the film, which focused on five persons who pretty much got 9/12 off the ground. The film was a little less than 2 hours and the middle was draggy, almost put-you-to-sleep draggy, but, the last part, the actual 9/12 march...Wow. Inspiring. Almost as inspiring as being there, which somewhat mollified the Shopaholic.

Here's a picture of her with William, a re-enactor who is one of the cast members:

Brush with greatness.

As You Like It

Well, Schlub is back from his Thanksgiving vacation, which involved a trip up 95 with about 750,000 of my closest friends, turning the normal 3 hour drive to see my brother, Piney Schlub, into an 8 hour one. Eventful, it was, including a fistfight between Mrs. Schlub and a McDonald's manager. Film at 11.

Made it back in time to see Shakespeare Theater's production of "As You Like it" on Friday night. Oh boy, classic comedy with the best of Shakespeare's soliliquoys, that "7 Ages of Man" rap, so Schlub was all a'twitter. We met one of the cast members, Charles Francis Murphy, getting on the elevator from the parking garage. How did we know he was a cast member? He asked if we were going to the play, betrayed, no doubt, by the fact we had both taken showers, and then said he was in it. "Ah," Schlub is pleased, "what part?" "Ensemble," he replied. Not the whole ensemble, of course, member thereof. We would know hm because he would be wearing a silver suit in the opening scene. And he was, allowing the Schlub's to nudge people on either side and say, "Hey, we know that guy. He's Charles Francis Murphy. From Carnegie-Mellon, doncha know." That fact was ascertained on the elevator.

And although his role was small, I gotta say that Charles Francis Murphy did a good job with it. He played the banished Duke being banished in a stage setting like the opening of an old silent movie, replete with flickering lights and melodramatic gestures and the sound of an old projector. I'm not kidding, he really did a good job and I predict a succesful career. Then I can nudge others and say, "Charles Francis Murphy. Know the guy."

Thus the play started. The director decided to keep the movie motif, and we were subjected to these scenes where makeup artists and clapboard guys and directors and camera men would mill about with the cast members shortly before action began. Yes, the director yelled "action." A bit odd, but, okay, keeping it relevant, yo, so the youngsters could get hep to this Shakespeare dude. But, then, well, the movie or play or moviethatwasaplay turned into "How the West Was Won," with each scene a different American era. The Forest of Arden became Valley Forge, then we were in the pioneer days, then the Civil War, then the Wild Wild West (where's Doctor Loveless?) then the 1890's and I think we ended up in the Roaring 20's. By that time, I figured the characters were around 200 years old, so not only a comedy but science fiction, to boot.

Most unfortunate was the director's insistence that the characters adapt accents befitting the period portrayed. So, Civil War, suddenly everyone's speaking in a southern drawl so atrocious Scarlett O'Hara would be going, "Huh? What?" I could not understand a word. Bad enough, but when Francesca Faridany, playing Rosalind, turned into Calamity Jane from the "Deadwood" series, well, Schlub slipped into a coma. I was not conscious until the final wedding scene, which was saved by a pretty hilarious Jon K. Reynolds playing Hymen, and everyone resuming an accent I could understand.

Directors, do me a favor, stop trying to make it relevant, yo. You end up making it incomprehensible.

Best scene was Silvius (Aubrey Deeker), Phebe (Anjali Bhimnai), and I think Orlando (John Behlmann) playing a scene like a bunch of Holy Rollers. Not sure of the third member of this little vignette because I was still somewhat lapsed into unconsciousness. Big hint there, director.

Letter

Dear Governor-Elect McDonnell, Lt Governor-elect Bolling, Attorney General-elect Cuccinelli, and 42nd District Delegate Dave Albo,

Congratulations on your overwhelming victory this past November. As you all well know, we Virginians had gotten very tired of ever bigger government, confiscation of our wealth, and the erosion of our hard earned freedoms by a small, increasingly insulated elite. That’s what swept you into office, and you know our expectations, that the last eight years of Democrat assault on our prosperity be reversed.

It wasn't just local dissatisfaction that got you elected, however, but a sense that the entire nation is moving dangerously towards a centralized, powerful government bent on running every aspect of our lives. Those people up there in Washington don’t believe in individual rights; they don’t believe in individuals, period. In their eyes, we are just a mass to be herded, directed, and carefully controlled, down to what we eat, what we say, what we drive, even what we think. They are not Americans. Oh yes, they have citizenship, but their thinking is foreign, all the worst aspects of socialist theory and redistribution of wealth that the tyrannies of Europe and Asia have tried to impose on their citizens for centuries, always to massive failure, massive death and ruin. The arrogance of these people prevents them from seeing how unrealistic their concepts are. They repackage the same old Marxist tripe in prettier boxes and try to tell us it will work this time, that we will be happy now finally forever, that is, if we make them our kings, give them our production, do what they say- in short, become their slaves.

We won’t have it. So while you are fixing Virginia, we want you to take a larger view and start fixing the country as well.

Here’s how: announce, for all to hear, that this is a Union of States, not the Warsaw Pact cowering before its bloody master, and that the State of Virginia will decide what Federal statutes are actually within the purview of the Federal government’s enumerated powers, and what belongs to Virginia proper. In other words, you will decide what mandates you will accept. You will not have mandates imposed, especially those so clearly un-Constitutional.

Take this heath care bill. You know it’s a travesty, has no force of law because there is no provision anywhere in the Constitution, no matter how one twists the Commerce Clause, that validates it. Yet, it will probably pass and DC will glower at you and say, “Submit!“ Say, “No.“ Health care belongs to the individual, and Virginia welcomes all insurers and doctors and hospitals in a free and open market without government control. DC won’t like that, will try to force you by withholding Federal monies due the state.

So don't let them have those monies to being with.

How about we intercept the payroll taxes and other fees that are taken from Virginia by the Feds and put those in a state account? Use it to pay for our own Virginia version of whatever mandates the Feds enact. At the end of the year, you can figure out how much of what’s left is actually owed the Feds and send that to them, and then give the rest back to the residents of Virginia. The Feds will end up with far less than they wanted, but that’s only fair. Virginia only gets back a dribble of what they steal from us now. Turnabout is fair play.

It would be the first shots of Fort Sumter. But, this time, the right Fort Sumter.

See, in 1861, Virginia made the wrong decision against union. Yes, the Federal government acted the ogre and their outrageous behavior prompted an unnecessary war, but we picked the wrong side, no matter how noble our intentions. So, this time, let's make the right decision. For the Union. For the Constitution.

Lead the way.

Your friend,

Schlub

Art imitates life

So, Schlub finally got around to watching his Tivo'd "V" pilot last night. Hmmm... back-stabbing snakes who want universal health care and a docile media...my God, they're DEMOCRATS! All hope is lost.

Film at 11

Allright, finally, got some videos uploaded for your viewing pleasure. Took awhile, and I can't seem to get the video of Michele Bachman's complete speech to load, but I'll give it a couple of more shots.

These are random. The first one is this hilarious guy, name unknown, who gave like a ten minute comedy monologue as the Grim Reaper, saying how much he loved Pelosicare. He then stood up and gave directions to her office, which I'm sure led to her graciously receiving her constituents and listening intently to their concerns. Before arresting them.

They started blasting out "Won't Get Fooled Again" before the speeches, which was cool. Schlub, at that point, got into a rather boisterous discussion with five Obamacare lovers who were dressed like doctors and carrying signs like "Michele Bachman Will Kill You." Schlub, during the course of the very mild and unassuming discussion, mentioned the Marxism, fascism, unAmericanism, and general cretinhoodedness of the four or five sign carrying traitors. I was joined by an 84 year old lady who vigorously echoed those sentiments. Don't mess with her, man, she'll kick your rear. One of the five identified herself as an attorney and then gushed about the VA, because that was government health care and it was soooo wonderful. Schlub advised the attorney that he, as a 20 year veteran of the US Armed Forces, availed himself of VA health care and would she like to hear some actual, true stories about the type and quality of care, you know, the weeks to get an appointment, the six months to see a specialist, things like that? That's when they left.

There were four or five rude and obnoxious guys running around carrying a banner about freeing Leonard Pelletier. Leonard Pelletier? What is this, the 70's? During the benediction, one of them ran through the crowd carrying an upside down flag screaming "Free Leonard!" During the benediction, people! Schlub turned, placed a finger in the moron's face and mildly said, "Just one more word..." He left, too. You can see them in one of the videos below being moved along by Capitol Police.

Chants of "Kill the Bill," "USA." Yep, there are still some Americans left in America.

House Call, 5 Nov 09

Schlub wandered on down to the Capitol to see what all the hubbub was about and ran into 15,000 of his closest friends. Well now, a work day, the middle of it, to be exact, and this impromptu on-the-fly garden party sure got a lot of gate crashers. Was a lovely day, as you can see:

That sign sez: "Rep David Scott, call your staff. They're a little uncertain about your schedule today." Ha! I'll bet

Just a few people there:

A slightly disgruntled former AARP member:

The last time a Virginia flag got this close, there was almost a change in government.

I've got several more photos and video, including most of Michele Bachman's speech, but Blogspot is a finicky creature and not allowing me to load and/or place proper commentary right now, so those will dribble in over the next few days. And, no, this isn't some slimey Schlub tactic to make you look. Really.

Cut or amputation

Virginia Foxx raised some ire by saying Obamacare will do more damage to us than a terrorist attack. She's right. We can recover from a terrorist attack. We can't from Obamacare.

Suck it up

Schlub still suffers from this cursed back injury, but has decided to man up and throw away the quasi-psychotropics they gave me for the pain. Besides, I got tired of seeing everyone with antlers. Gotta go back and see what my Doctor, Mengele is his name, can do that doesn't involve warping reality. Better do it quick, before Obamacare passes, otherwise they'll chain my ankle to a stake in the woods and leave me a flint knife to hold off the grizzlies.

Hors de combat

That's Schlub, who was lifting up the front end of his car to change the oil while playing rugby and threw out his back. I wish. Actually, I was cleaning out a closet, laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone...wait, that's Simon and Garfunkle. As you can tell, the very serious drugs a quasi-sympathetic doctor gave me is causing ongoing instances of planar travel. The upside, I can tell you the multiverse is thriving with some very interesting alternatives, including one world where joining the Democratic party is punishable by death. Tried to stay, but the pills wore off. Once I can get a fix on my true location in this dimension, I'll be back.

Empathy

Laura Ingraham just said something that struck a chord with the Schlub. Baracula was abandoned by his mom and dad and decided to go hard core left. Hmmm. Not to seek any sympathies out there, but Schlub suffered through Mommy and Daddy's rather violent, traumatic divorce, leaving me pretty much on my own from age 15 on. Oddly, I went into this hard core anarchist, destroy everything, crash the system, the world just sucks stage, too. Wanted revenge, I guess, just like Baracula does. Difference is, Bambi, I grew out of it. Why don't you?

The Alchemist

Schlub and the Mrs. drove through the horrible rain-terrified traffic of DC last Friday to attend a showing of The Alchemist, a Ben Jonson play. I swear, let one bit of precipitation or falling leaf hit the roadways and 95% of the drivers around here get the vapors. At any rate, the Schlub's did their usual thing: enter a restaurant with barely 35 minutes to spare, no reservations, and demand great food at McDonald's speed. Oyumel could not accomodate us, but Cafe Atlantico did, thanks to the delightful French bartender whose name I never caught but who I tipped a whopping $5, dude. Don't spend it all in one place.

At any rate, I'd never seen a Ben Jonson play before, he being the also-ran to that guy from Avon. Interesting character, though, bit of a thug with a murder he managed to avoid swinging for because he could read a Bible verse in Latin. Ah, the judicial proofs of the Elizabethan Age.

The play was...good. I hesitate because it wasn't The Taming of the Shrew good, but tweren't the fault of the actors, 'twas the material. Jonson relied on a lot of sight gags, a la costume changes, for his chuckles and those were amusing, but, you know, c'mon. The first time the hippie pharmacist (named Able Drugger. That Jonson, funny guy) and the guru came on stage was good for a laugh, but only once. There were some acting standouts: Robert Creighton played Ananias as a crazed, Bible thumpin' Holy-Spirit-jigging deacon, which is a bit of an inside joke, given that Ananias was the first in a long line of greedy Jimmy Swaggart types in Christianity . David Sabin was Sir Epicure Mammon (again, that Jonson, funny guy) and he cracked me up with his Donald Trump get-up and his Leo McKern mannerisms.

So, overall, a good night. Just not great.

The NFL is the Obama Administration

That's right. Complete and utter disregard for the working man while doing everything possible to impoverish you. Yesterday, 1:00 game. What could we see? Washington versus Kansas City. That's it. No game on Fox, just some silly crap while the GIANTS and the SAINTS were playing. Yeah, no interest in that game anywhere in the world, nooooooooo. More galling, only about half the seats at FedEx were filled (gee, I wonder why?). So, you know, blackout rule? And then there's the whole thing with Rush: the integrity of the NFL is one so pristine and holy a guy with a lot of money who could possibly turn around a failing franchise is denied because gasp! he says controversial things. It's a BUSINESS deal, for cryin' out loud!

That's it. Watching college only. Except when the Iggles are on (but, oy, if they keep playing like they did against Oakland...)

Yabba dabba doo time

They had some kind of gay march in DC over the weekend, and I don’t mean a lot of light hearted people singing show tunes. Or, maybe I do. I’m sure it was quite festive. It gave Baracula a preview of his upcoming military, I suppose.

But I gotta say, dudes, please, spare me. It’s not a civil rights issue into which particular set of noxious body orifices you wish to place your organs, or to what degree of bizarre flex you are willing to subject yourself. No, it’s a matter of what lengths you are willing to go to achieve ejaculation, and nowhere, even with the closest reading of the Constitution, do I find that protected by the Bill of Rights. And don’t get all Commerce Clause on me and say “pursuit of happiness.” Your willingness to do unspeakable things to yourself and others for the sake of your fifteen seconds of bliss does not fall under happiness anymore than does a heroin overdose.

“But Schlub! It’s not a choice, it’s who we are and you have to accept us.“ Uh, no, I don’t. Your urges to splay another man’s hairy rear end is not something I have to accept or tolerate or feel anything but utter contempt about. As far as I’m concerned, you are no different than a guy who marries a goat. And please don’t try that “gay gene” crap. You may very well have strong overwhelming urges to be spiked by another man, but urges do not justify, no more than urges by NAMBLA to spike 8 year old little boys justify that behavior.

What you won't admit is that your gayness is nothing more than arrested development. See, all of us went through that He-Man Women Hater’s Club period, but most of us outgrew it. You never did, because you like your ejaculation more than you like anything else. See, with girls, in order to maneuver them into a willingness to assist with that ejaculation, you gotta be nice to them. Buy ‘em things. Show you will be sticking around for the inevitable babies born of that ejaculation assist. Your attitude is, ‘the heck with that, I just want to ejaculate,’ so you find a like minded guy and you selfishly pound each other in untoward ways and fool yourselves that you’ve got a relationship, that you love each other.

Uh uh.

You just love your stiffie.

Under the watchful eye

Now this is a good idea.

What's the rush?

For health care and stimulus and klunker cash and cap and trade and greenery and czars and business takeover and fines and fees and taxes and Afghanistan? well, we can take our time on that and Olympics Olympics Olympics!

The Cloward-Piven strategy, that's why.

The NFL is evil

Evil, I say. There Schlub was, thoroughly enjoying the severe trouncing the Iggles was handing out to the Chiefs when, apparently, some flower sniffing, Birkenstock wearing, tennis fan of a low level CBS programming intern decided the game was just a little too one-sided and maybe we should go to something a tad more exciting, what do you think, Muffy? Next thing I know? Carolina, or some such team playing some other losers, right smack in the middle of the Iggles 3rd quarter. Someone must die.

Letter

Dear President Hopeychange,

I can’t quite figure you out. You seem to be two different people. One is the naïve, student council president just gushing with all the milks of human kindness, burning with the zeal of what you think are new ideas, world peace, world sharing, love and harmony, let the sunshine in. The other is a rabid, evil eyed power monger bent on domination and control. Which is it?

Can’t be both. There is no blend of the two. You can’t be a wide-eyed fawn in the forest while throwing your opponents into concentration camps. A raging dictator screaming five hour speeches while having school kids sing hymns to him doesn’t turn the other cheek to nuclear Iran. So, which is it?

I’m guessing neither.

That you run so weirdly hot and cold I consider additional evidence that you are just a front man. You’re taking marching orders, and sometimes those orders conflict so you look schizophrenic. One group demands fascist health care now, another demands world peace, and you get the signals crossed, you know, looking like Hitler at home and Chamberlain abroad, then Chamberlain here and, well, not quite Hitler over there, more like de Gaulle. You get my drift.

Wouldn’t you like to be your own man? Seriously? I mean, you know government health care is ridiculous and you’re more inclined to go with the Republican solution, eliminate state restrictions, allow portability, that kind of thing. But, oh man, what they would DO to you if you agreed with the Republicans! Nah. Better stick with the program, try to please the competing groups, try not to look like a complete idiot.

‘Cause, if you were your own man, you wouldn’t be President.

Your friend,

Schlub

Retro

Mark Steyn had a brilliant observation yesterday: Obama's call for a nuclear-free world is a Cold War issue, you know, non-proliferation. How 80's. Which gives you a major clue about the man- he is nothing but a walking, talking bumper sticker of every failed hippie boner since 1967. That's why he's so dated, why everything he's pushing sounds so ridiculous, it's all been said before, all been shouted from streets and Reflecting Pools ad infinitum, ad nauseum until it's just trope. But, that's the problem with bleeding hearts, they haven't had an original idea since Rousseau. And his were stupid.

Spot on

VDH is a friggin' genius, although he's one level too high. Baracula's the high school student council president, and we're the fuddy-duddy out of touch administration.

Are you ready for some football?

Well, I was, this past Sunday, figuring to bypass the dreadful Redskins/Rams game for something a little more like...well, football. Eagles/Saints, Titans/Texans, you know, a real game? But, nooooooooooo. Channel 9 was showing infomercials. Infomercials! On football Sunday! I went out and did yard work, instead. So, okay, the 4:00 game, then. Denver, Chicago, cool! But, noooooooo, again, Fox was showing golf! Only the Ravens game was on and, admittedly, it was a good game, but the Ravens? Yawn. What's with this programming? The NFL has become so eeeeeevil they want you to pay extra to see a good game, pay out a bazillion dollars a season for Total Access or some Red Zone channel thing they keep hawking. Bad enough they've priced the Great Unwashed out of stadium seats (and just why are you building so many skyboxes in your new stadiums, hmmm?), but we're being restricted to just one broadcast game? Gonna start watching college.

Phedre

On Friday night, Schlub and the Missus got all gussied up and headed on down to F Street and the new Harman Hall for opening night of Shakespeare Theater's "Phedre." The Schlubs grabbed a curbside table at Rosa's Mexican Food a mere four doors down, drank wine and ate Rosa's truly ambitious guacamole dip wondering what the poor people were doing tonight. I ordered the prawns on rice, thinking, you know, lots of big shrimp draped over a bed of white and it was big shrimp, all right, three full grown prawns, shells intact, standing on a bed of black rice (odd, that) staring at me with just the slightest bit of malevolence. Prawns, once you get to tearing them apart, don't really have a lot of meat. Think of skinny lobsters. Mrs got the poblano, but her chicklen was ground, not shredded, greatly offending her delicate culinary sensibilities. It was a somewhat cool night, enough of a breeze to take the edge off and make sitting there in a wool suit and too-tight tie not such a bad proposition. Across the street from the Verizon Center, a New Orleans Jazz Band formed up and started playing and, my, those guys were good.

The play? Oh, yes, there was a play. Helen Mirren was the lead, yes, that Helen Mirren, my favorite role of hers being this one:



Tanya Kirbuk







And there's other things she's done, Excalibur, the Queen, all that.

But, this was Phedre, a 1677 French translation/adaptation of Euripedes by Racine. Probably rousing stuff back then, but, well, times change. Do not get Schlub wrong, he is quite enamored of Greek plays, thinking Aristophanes one large hoot, but, hey, this was Phedre. And Greek plays, by and large, consist of several characters standing around talking. And talking. And talking. All. In. The. Most. Breathless. Declaiming. Overexerted. Method. Possible.

Now, not taking shots here- the play was well done, good acting, especially John Shrapnel (what a great name) as Theramene (which sounds like an anti-depression pill). And it was a pretty complicated story to pull off: Phedre has the hots for stepson Hippolytus who has the hots for Theseus' enemy's daughter Aricia (played by sloe-eyed babe Ruth Negga) while Theseus, Phedre's husband and king of Athens, is off doing whatever (bedding thousands of nubile Greeks, according to the Therameister) but everyone thinks he's dead so Phedre makes a play for Hippolytus who must be gay because he rejects her (it's Helen Mirren, dude, she's got that older babe thing going) but maybe he's not because he really, really likes the Aricia chick and then, of course, Theseus shows back up and everyone's in big trouble. We learned all the nuances of this cross-currented-plot-subplot-subsubplot of who wants to bang who by everyone standing around and talking. And talking. And talking.

About the first hour into it, I concluded Phedre just really needed to get laid. Would have saved a whole lotta grief and dead people if she'd just boinked one of her guards. But, then, we wouldn't have had three hours of people standing around talking. And talking. And talking. Would we?

Start spreading the news...

Some random images from the 9/12 march. I got a lot more, but, hey, you get the idea. I tried to load a video of some guy, whose name escapes me, doing a parody of "New York, New York" called "2010," but blogspot won't take it. Must be copyright issues or something.

All the lonely liberals

Where do they all come from? You’d think just a slight touch of common sense would be enough to dispel any such predilection but no, no, there they are, ACORN, the Democrat Party, and look how they are, sneering, humorless, raging, jealous. Now who would want to be that way? Defies all logic, but Schlub thinks he knows.

They come into the world in the usual way (man, what‘s with the classic rock lyrics?) and they’re pretty much like everybody else, even at the point where they become racists. Then, something happens- they get the "gimmees.”

Now we all get the gimmees, of course. There is nothing more selfish than a six month old baby but a lot of us, either through nature or nurture, eventually learn empathy and sharing and fairness. Not these guys. The gimmees predominate, whether because of nature or nurture I can't say, and quickly develop into the liberal MO- sleeping until noon, eating cold pizza, watching TV all day then going out with their friends.

They hit a point of divergence early on- thuggery or liberalism- determined by how much initiative the kid has. Guys with the gimmees and motivation become the gang bangers and drug dealers and second story men. They still have all the liberal behaviors- sleep ‘til noon, eat cold pizza, watch TV all day and then go out with their friends- but they're willing to finance that lifestyle by bonking you on the head. That separates them from the regular liberal, who just sits around whining and asking for a handout.

Since most Dads aren’t willing to pay for a lifetime of sleeping late and cold pizza, liberals spend their energy concocting ridiculous schemes to get other people to do so. Where do you think Marxism came from? Good ole Karl slept ‘til noon, ate cold oatmeal, then read books in the library all day before going out with Engels harassing the straights. Didn’t work, the late USSR as evidence, but failed economic theory never dissuaded a liberal so they keep trying, attacking common sense and personal responsibility, promoting atheism and postmodernism and hedonism while ignoring long term trends and first causes, all of which tend to undermine their premises. They’re gonna get that cold pizza Utopia, by Gaia. And if they have to destroy every one else’s prosperity to do so, well, small price to pay.

You can’t change them. Don’t even try. Children have to grow up and y’all know what a painful process that is. Just give them the keys and hope they don’t kill a lot of people while they’re learning. When we get our country back, out of gas and the bumper smashed in, angry neighbors standing on our porch yelling, just confine them to their room and hope they’ve learned a thing or two.

But don't hold your breath.

1.2 million Part 2

Some pictures, video from the march down Pennsylvania Ave:

1.2 million

Un. Be. Lievable. I figured 50, 60 thousand tops, and most of those from the local area. When we pulled into the Metro station, though, the line for tickets was out the door. Surprise! At every stop, hundreds of sign-carrying right wing terrorists poured onto the cars. At Reagan Airport, a couple got on and told me they'd just stepped off a plane from the Philippines! Business trip, right to the protest.

Federal Triangle was so mobbed they just waved us right through:

This was the scene at Freedom Plaza:

Haven't seen this sign since the 60's.

Then the march began:

This was inscribed on the side of the Newseum, and prompted a "Read the Building!" chant as we passed:

This was the counterprotest. A bunch of smarmy college students dressed in suits (CEOs of insurance companies, doncha know) singing songs extolling the joys of socialized medicine. But the guy behind them with the sign was hilarious:

The Grim Reaper was there:

and 1.2 million of Schlub's friends:






Schlub's son and Schlub. Age difference should be obvious:

All kinds of people:

Man, the creativity:

These two just caught my eye:

One video (hope it works).

Hey, Nancy, Harry, Baracula...did you, by chance, notice some people were on the lawn?