Whose Fault Was It?

If you listen to Diane Feinstein and the rest of the insane left, Newtown happened because of guns. Adam Lanza brushed against one of his mother's [legal] weapons and was immediately possessed by the eeeevil Spirit of Gun-ness. Or, more on this side of sanity, if Mom didn't have all those eeevil guns, he'd only have killed 10 or 15 with an Evil Butcher Knife. So, it's the guns' fault.

No, it isn't. It's Barack Obama's fault. And Democrats. And all the rest of the Marxists.

What? What??? How is this Barry's fault?? He HATES guns! At least, in your hands.

Simple. Ideas have consequences.

Barry was  Chairman of the Chicago Annanberg Challenge, a "school reform" entity created by Bill Ayers with money from the Annanberg Foundation. The Annanberg Challenge was one more in a series of devastating body blows to the US public education system, like the self-esteem movement, the War on Boys, and the whole "learning disorders" craze. By the time the Marxist-in-Chief and his bomb-throwing pal Ayers had hijacked the Chicago schools, education was already reeling against the ropes. They kneed it in the groin, finishing it off.

And the result is a whole generation of boys, especially white middle-class boys, repeatedly hammered, each and every day, about how much of a threat and insult their manly instincts are to the real power in the world—girls. Playing cowboys and Indians at recess is proof of their innate racist and violent tendencies, making fart noises during Reading is evidence of severe educational deficiencies requiring large doses of cocaine in the form of Adderol, gayness is all the rage, manliness all the wrong, and girls really just don't need them. All the men on TV are befuddled arrested adolescents who only survive by the patient and condescending brilliance of their too-smart wives; football is brutish (oh my, you might get hurt!); weeping is good; a boy's very presence on the college campus prevents women from graduating and getting better jobs. His very presence in the workplace means the woman working next to him is automatically underpaid. His very existence is the source of all oppression.

Sullen, repressed, unhappy, guilty boys, frustrated, blamed for everything.

And you wonder why they massacre.

Buy more ammo

There is so much going on that I, truly, don't know where to focus. Not wanting to use a much-overused metaphor these days, but it's extremely difficult to pause and reflect when the car is on two tires, the brakes are on fire, and you are tumbling over the cliff side.

 

It should be very apparent to everyone by now that Barack Obama is an enemy of this country, and is absolutely intent on breaking the American economic system. That's why he came to Washington, as the front man, the vanguard of the proletariat, the culmination of a 25 year plan to bring America to its knees. It's a movie script. It's a thriller by Vince Flynn. And it's true.

 

Now, before you go off and scream "Conspiracy theorist!", let me tell you I'm not much of a believer in conspiracies. If there's one thing the Mafia has proven, two guys know a secret, then the whole world does. So, an active, plotted, conspiracy conducted over decades? No. But, an idea, people dedicated to an idea. And the damage an idea can do.

 

That idea is, of course, Marxism, which holds as its basic premise that all everyone really, really wants to do is get up before sunrise, stretch and go, "Oh boy! I get to work 18 hours today sickling wheat, and then give every bit of it to the guy in the next town! And expect absolutely nothing in return!" Uh huh. On what planet, Marxists?

 

So, you have a ridiculous idea backed by a flawed premise, that economics is the driving force of humanity, and what happens? Mass graves. We all stand here in amazement, wondering how anybody in their right mind would even entertain Marxism, yet there are whole countries (I'm looking at you, Russia) dedicated to it. And we have an administration imbued with it, a stupid, stupid idea that has proven its bankruptcy in decade after decade, country after country, slaughter after slaughter. Yet, 51% our of population voted for it. Why?

 

Simple. Because the real premise of Marxism is not economics. It's power.

 

Power over everyone, the power to tell everyone what they can do, what they can say, what they can eat, what they can watch, drive, own, think. That's what everyone really wants. It's downright sexual, and Barack Obama sits in his office, rictus grin on his face, self-righteous rage careening through his heart, gloating that an idea, a mere idea, can so corrupt an education system, a monetary system, a system of governance, that 51% of the population will, willingly, vote for their own enslavement.

 

Go to the range. Practice.

 

Mud Wrestling and Shakespeare

So Schlub and Mrs. went off to Mordor (you know it as DC) and took in A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Shakespeare Theater. Out freakin' standing. The play, I mean. Not Mordor.

And that's pretty much due to two actors: Adam Green, a national treasure, and Bruce Dow, a NYC treasure. Yes, yes, the other actors/actresses (God, how sexist) were equally outstanding, but there are two roles in Dream that make or break the show: Puck and Bottom...Puck and Bottom, hmm, sounds like an odd sexual practice, but I digress.

Adam Green was Puck, and he brought his usual combination of timing and physicality, both of which makes him one of the best comedic actors on stage. I've seen him in The Liar and All's Well that Ends Well and he pretty much stole both shows; well, at least, kept up with Tony Roach in Liar. And he stole this one, too, especially in the mud wrestling scene.

Yes. Mud wrestling, something you usually don't associate with Shakespeare, but there it was. And it involved girls, Christiana Clark as Helena and Amelia Pedlow as Hermia. Wowsers. But, before you get your raincoat and empty-bottom barrel of popcorn ready, it was quite tasteful, more funny than...anything. Tasteful mud wrestling, you query? Hey, c'mon, it's Shakespeare.

Bruce Dow is, also, one of the funniest human beings on the earth, and he played Bottom's over-the-top role so over-the-top that I was on the floor. I want to see a two-man Green and Dow show.

Must give a shout-out to Tim Campbell and Sarah Topham, who played Theseus/Oberon and Hippolyta/Titiana, respectively and brilliantly. A chest bump between Oberon and Puck was a highlight. Mention of Robert Dorfman as Snug is required because he was hilarious in a very minor role. The play within the play was even funnier than the play. The ensemble was outstanding, the set was outstanding, everything was outstanding.

 

Including the mud wrestling.

The Only, Important Question

I do not care about Petraeus' talking points, or about Susan Rice's day long lie-fest. I don't care about Susan Rice at all. Her career's over, anyway, because she has proven herself more loyal to Barack Obama than to the country.

There is only one question I've got: Where was Barack Obama while the Embassy was under attack, and was he the person who refused to send help?

I guess that's two questions.

Commander-in-Thief

These reports of voter fraud in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Florida are making me wonder:

Is Barack Obama the President of the United States? Or did he just engineer a coup?

Profound implications, this. And I'm wondering if anyone is doing anything to resolve the question, because...

If you won the Presidency by fraud, Barack, then you ain't the President. And your administration has no legitimacy. At all. And anything you order is unlawful, and we can, with no qualms, ignore it.

 

That's not good. Not good at all.

Cloward-Piven, in reverse

It's now apparent that Mitt Romney underestimated the number of takers in the United States. It was at least 51%, not 47, of the electorate who "voted for Santa Claus," as Rush Limbaugh so eloquently put it. And if that electorate can reject a decent man like Mitt Romney in favor of an arrogant, vicious, Marxist ideologue like Obama, then there is no hope of conservatives ever winning elections. Ever.

Trying to save the country through the political process will not work. That's because all political parties, including the Republicans, cling to the fatal premise that government is the solution. Sure, the Republicans posit those solutions from the right, but it's a middle right, tinged with red. Neither of the parties believe what you believe, that the individual has primacy, that rights are inherent, and that government is, at best, a necessary evil. But they both fervently believe you will continue to send them money, attend their rallies, and go to the voting booths every Election Day in an (increasingly) futile effort to restore the Constitution.

The Republicans cannot save you. Voting will not save you.

You can only save yourself.

But how? The government is now in control of everything, from your health care to your wages. If you want to live even a shadow of the mythical American Dream, then you must go to work, pay your taxes, save some money, send your kids to college, and hope to God the government leaves you enough of a paycheck that you can do a small percentage of the things you want to do. An increasingly smaller percentage, as Comrade Obama's lumpenproletariat grows in strength and number.

And this is where you've got them.

Most of you are familiar with the Cloward-Piven strategy, that Marxist tactic of overwhelming a system in order to bring it down and force the Marxist revolution. It was actually tried in New York City against the welfare system, and had partial success. There is no reason why we can't use the same tactic.

But not to overwhelm the system. Underwhelm it.

The Marxists now in charge of the government depend on you going to work and buying gas and houses and movie tickets and video games to generate the income, property, sales, and fuel taxes they need to keep playing Santa Claus. They laugh at you as you go to work, raising glasses of champagne to each other as they take your income, lend it to their friends at Solyndra, help that company go bankrupt, and then redistribute the tax money back to themselves through union and political contributions. They keep assuring you the American Dream is alive and, please, Joe the Plumber, keep going out there and killing yourself in the belief that you will one day, become prosperous.  They need your productivity to fund their lifestyles.

So, stop being productive.

Now, not all at once, and not with the idea of putting yourself in straits. You don't have to go that far. You only have to reduce the government's revenue by a percentage of what you are giving them now. Perhaps you can do without that second job, reduce the amount of gas you're using, watch Netflix instead of going to the movies. Yes, a lot of you are doing that now because the government has reduced your prosperity, but you did so out of necessity, not as a strategy. If you look at your economic activity as a blow against the empire instead of a sacrifice, there is no doubt you can see additional ways to choke off government revenue.

For instance, all of you business owners—consider shutting down. Take your savings and live quietly. Don't worry about your employees; Obama has promised them unemployment insurance and health care, so make him deliver. You parents about to send kids to college—don't. The colleges are bastions of Marxist thought, so you will end up paying half your net worth to a scornful institution that will indoctrinate your kids into a system that hates you. Instead, offer to pay for community college, for a certificate that will give them a job skill they can use anywhere, such as welding, Certified Nursing Assistant, carpenter, etc., skills that are always needed. And if they still insist on getting that degree in Political Science from Columbia, then have them apply for government student loans. After all, Obama has promised it to them.

Make Obama keep his promises.

Because Obama's promises, his role as Santa Claus, depends on you doing the right thing, being a stand-up person, a hard worker...in other words, an American. Obama hates Americans. He sneers at you, considers you stupid and a sucker, laughs that you are participating in your own destruction.

It's time to give him a taste of his own medicine.

And, yes, you can say it: Who is John Galt?

America Died Last Night

It may not look it. The corpse seems viable, breathing, still full of life. But, trust me. It's dead.

There are now more people who expect things than there are people who earn things. There are now more covetous people than honorable ones. The Obama voter smirks at the Romney voter and sneers, "Payback! Now you're gonna get yours!"

Actually, they're going to get theirs, when the gas and electricity and food go through the roof, and the jobs and prosperity through the floor. But, then, Obama will blame the oil companies and the electric utilities and George Bush, and Hilary Clinton will win the next eight years, and Governor Cuomo another eight beyond that, with one or two Congressional Republicans from some district in Texas kept around for sport.

The grand experiment is over. We are Lee's Army at Appomattox. We lost. We will not rise again. Conservatism is relegated to the ash heap of history, along with the primacy of the individual, inherent rights, and government as servant. The individual will diminish, rights will be determined on a case-by-case basis, and a political and corporate elite will rule you.  

But that's all right. You'll have American Idol, marijuana, sex with anything you want, and an assigned job and apartment. You'll be happy.

Just not free.

Not optimal

'If four Americans get killed, it’s not optimal.'

No, Barack it isn't. It's especially not "optimal" when, as it now appears, at least one of those four Americans was calling for help over a seven-hour period, which was plenty of time for the aircraft and Marines at Sigonella to reach him. But no help came.

'Well, we weren't confused about the fact that four Americans had been killed, I wasn't confused about the fact that we needed to ramp up diplomatic security around the world right after it happened, I wasn't confused about the fact that we had to investigate exactly what happened so it gets fixed and I wasn't confused about the fact that we were going to hunt down whoever did it and bring them to justice.'

These are the kinds of things the chief of police says at the crime scene. But, if the people in the house kept calling 911 over a 7 hour period, and that same chief of police refused to send a patrol car, then he killed those people, didn't he?

Did you kill those four Americans, Barack?

Because I am betting it was you who told Agent Woods to stand down, told General Ham not to launch aircraft, and convinced Leon Panetta to take the fall. I'm betting you were sitting right there, right there, watching the videos and hearing the calls for help and, like Charlene Lamb, sneering at them, saying, "That's the military's first instinct, isn't it? Blow everything up? Well, we don't do that in my administration. So everybody stand down. We're not going to start a war with Libya."

How far off am I, Barack? I mean, you kill just about everybody with drones because the last thing you want is prisoners who would then have to be housed in Guantanamo, you know, the place you were going to close down? So why not kill the terrorists attacking the Benghazi compound? Oh, no need to answer, we already know—that would make you just like George Bush, wouldn't it? And you won the Nobel Peace Prize. Just for showing up.

"This is a tough time for a lot of people; millions of folks all across the Eastern Seaboard, but America's tougher. And we're tougher because we pull together, we leave nobody behind, we make sure we respond as a nation and remind ourselves that whenever an American is in need, all of stand together to make sure we're providing the help that's necessary."

You do leave people behind, Barack. You leave military people behind. Which is not our tradition, not what Americans do. When an American calls for help, you send everything. An American doesn't leave another American out there.

You are not an American.

You are a traitor.

And a murderer.

 

 

 

[NOTE: Blogger had fits when I tried to link Barack's quotes above, so, if you want to see if they're accurate, you'll have to Google them].

Cossacks

I went to Shakespeare Theater to see a Russian play, The Government Inspector. Now I'm not a big fan of anything Russian, especially their plays, which normally involve big strapping Ukraine boys and girls walking around the stage waving giant red flags and singing songs about Lenin and the undying war against eeevil capitalism. You know, like an Obama cabinet meeting.

But I am a fan of Russian writers, and that Gogol guy was a pal of Dostoevsky and Puskin and some other crazy Russians (a repetition of terms, I know). And since I consider Dostoevsky the leading madman writer of all times, whose prose and thought and sentence structure can just knock you down, beat you senseless, turn you inside out, and then hang you up on a meat hook, then, well, Gogol can't be all that far behind.

Boy, was I wrong.

Five minutes into the first act, I was going, "What the hell is this?" You've got a stage full of people dressed in the most outlandish, over-the-top costumes (including two guys dressed like Tweedledee and Tweedledum, I kid you not) making 1st grade-level jokes and put downs while over-mugging and over-acting. Yikes. I turned to Mrs. Schlub and said, "What do you expect from Cossacks?" and made ready to leave.

Ah, but then there was the second act.

Tom Story as Hlestakov, the title character, with his servant Osip, played by Liam Craig, put on one hilarious attempted suicide scene. "Well, then, I'll give you a painful wound and beat you to death with a rock," is now one of my favorite phrases. So, I stayed, and glad, was I, doing so, because it was a very weird play with very weird phrase turns thereof, and those all, were funny.

Osip was, by far, the best character with the best lines but, sadly, had few appearances. Tom Story more than made up for that, especially during his drunken scene at the mayor's house. The rest of the characters were, well, weird. Just weird.

So, overall a good time, but not for what I expected; more because the play underscored my conviction that we shoulda nuked 'em when we had the chance.  

Heads on a Pike

Leon Panetta's, Gen Ham, and General Dempsey's for this statement alone:

"(The) basic principle is that you don't deploy forces into harm's way without knowing what's going on; without having some real-time information about what's taking place," Panetta told Pentagon reporters. "And as a result of not having that kind of information, the commander who was on the ground in that area, Gen. Ham, Gen. Dempsey and I felt very strongly that we could not put forces at risk in that situation."

You have got to be kidding me. Let's ignore the fact that you, Leon, had a drone circling the Benghazi compound within an hour of the first shot being fired, and was receiving real time images of the whole thing. Since when do military forces wait until "they know what's going on?" Did they know what was "going on" during D Day? How 'bout Grenada? Pleiku? Iraq?

Leon, we're not afraid of ambushes, ambushes are afraid of us.

You are a disgrace. Resign. Now.

Ghost of the Gipper

This Romney guy. Dunno. Might have to change my opinion. He's starting to look more Reaganesque.

Like last night, during the debate. Romney completely neutralized the "Bin Ladin is dead" trope. By the end of the night, it was pretty clear that both of them could handle foreign policy. If you like Obama's, then you're not going to get a whole lot different with Romney. So the issue is, what do you think of the economy and, in that regard, Romney wins, hands down.

Now, I firmly believe that Obama has turned the US into a dithering muffin no longer taken seriously by our enemies, and that he has done so in a deliberate fashion. That's the kind of rhetoric I was expecting from Romney, and the kind I did not get. But it doesn't upset me because Romney was playing long ball. He avoided Obama's efforts to make him look like a raving war monger, and that pacified the two or three so-called "independent" voters still left in the country. That leaves only the economy as an issue, and it's pretty clear which of the two can fix it.

Advantage Romney.

Classic case here of losing the battle and winning the war. Quite masterful, Mr. Romney.

Almost Reaganesque.

Bumps in the Road

I don't know where to start on the murder of Ambassador Stevens in Benghazi and the subsequent cover-up. It's like watching the earthquake and tsunami in Japan. You just watch. You don't really say anything, just watch. The relative silence has probably convinced Baracula and the rest of his minions that all of us are seeing it that same way he is: oh well, things happen, just another bump in the road, sorry about that but, hey, Stevie knew the risks going in.

No.

Here's some things need addressing:

a. It's pretty clear that Ops Centers back in DC knew, early on, that a major attack was being mounted in Benghazi. Not only did they hear from the guys inside the compound, but they, apparently had a drone circling the area for the entire six to eight hours watching the whole thing. I don't know which Ops Center—DIA's, CIA's, FBI's, whichever—contacted the White House first, but, at some point, someone told Baracula. His reaction?

He went to bed.

No ordering of troops, no calling out of aircraft, not even a destroyer racing to the coast. I immediately flash back to that fatal moment during the Normandy invasion when von Rundstet was frantically calling Berlin to get the Panzers released to him. Sorry, Runny, Hitler can't be disturbed— he's sleeping. I know these two situations are not analogous, but the attitude is: whether Obama went off for some shuteye because that campaign stop in Vegas tomorrow morning is more important, or the bunch of lickspittles he's surrounded himself with think Him So Holy that His Sleep is Precious, I don't know, but, the point is, Baracula thought his eight hours rest warranted more attention than the murder of an ambassador.

After all, you gotta break a few eggs to make an omelet.

b. It is, also, very clear that US security teams were screaming for more help weeks before, at least screaming that the in-place security team remain in-place. Charlene Lamb said no. Now, I haven't actually read this anywhere, but the implications floating around are that Lamb believed the Libyan government (try saying that with a straight face) was sufficiently viable to provide the necessary protections; a gesture of faith, so to speak, in the Arab spring. But, IMHO, that's not why she refused:

She has nothing but utter contempt for security people. Even more for ex-military security people.

See, in Charlene Lamb's world, violence results from the mere existence of military and police forces. Because everyone in the military is a Neanderthal stroking his rifle in masturbatory glee, wars start. Evil and cruelty and murder and children crying is the result, so all you thugs out there just shut up and stop asking for more troops and money. You all got us into the Libya mess in the first place, in some non-specific and confusing manner, so we're going to show you how love and trust and holding hands and dancing around the Maypole will bring laughter and love and tears of joy. No security for you. The peace-loving free peoples of Libya will hug you and keep you warm.

This is what happens when the high school student council runs a country.

So, Barack, Mr. Bump in the Road, Mr. I Gotta Get Elected and a dead damn ambassador is just sooooo inconvenient, you should resign. Re. Sign. Or be impeached, you child, you baby, you incompetent, you fool, you traitor. That's right. Traitor. You, too, Hillary.

And, as for you, Charlene Lamb? Prison. In Libya.

 

Letter

Dear President Romney,

I'm going to go ahead and start calling you that because it's a foregone conclusion. Even if you lose the election, you're far more of a President than that sophomoric Marxist holding the office now.

That, of course, does not mean I have become an admirer. I haven't. You are still enamored of government-led solutions. Get rid of Obamacare, yes, definitely, but DON'T replace it with some OTHER god-rotted top-down everyone-will-be-happy stupid government program that will suck money out of our wallets and end up a non-functioning bureaucracy driving the cost of a hospital visit through the roof. Why you and the rest of the plutocrats haven't figured out that medical costs began skyrocketing the moment Medicare was enacted back in 1965 and that piling on more programs will only make things worse... Hello, McFly!

I know, I know, you have an election to win, and forty-something years of government largesse and Annanberg-challenge public education have reduced a good portion of the population into blithering idiots and, unfortunately, you  need the blithering idiot vote. I wouldn't mind that so much if I had an inkling that your programism was nothing more than placating the sheep and you will emerge Reagan Reborn, slaying the federal dragon. But you actually have to eschew government programs to slay them, and you don't eschew. You believe in them.

Yes, I heard you say Big Bird was gonna go, and I applaud. But that's a no-brainer. There's also the EPA, the Departments of Education, Agriculture, Commerce and many other tax-sucking wastes of time that need to be shut down. I know, I know, Reagan was unable to close those departments, either, so give it up, Schlub. But there is a difference between failing to do something and not wanting to do something.

And that is why you won't be the next Reagan.

Oh sure, you definitely look the part, and definitely have the right attitude. The Muslim Brotherhood and Iran and Putin will be a tad more circumspect during your four years, and the economy will explode and there will be a general sense of well-being. You will be Reaganesque.

But not Reagan.

 

Your friend,

 

Schlub

Poll-lite conversation

Stop it with the polls already. I'm talking to you, AP, Fox, MSNBC, ABC, M-O-U-S-E. We just don't believe them. And you're starting to sound pathetic.

Don't you understand that all of us, every single one of us, have already made up our minds? There isn't going to be any real movement, up or down or sideways, for Romney or Obama or Virgil Goode or whoever, at all, of any kind, between now and the election. The election is set. Romney is going to clean Obama's clock.

Pish posh, you snort, our polls say...your polls are wrong. Dead. Wrong. You're simply not talking to the right people. The ones you are talking to are lying. And you are lying to yourselves. And to us.

Need proof? Okay. How many of you predicted Chik-Fil-A Tuesday?

We're done here.

Letter

Dear President Hopeychange,

Ah, so much going on, I don't even know where to start. But here's a good place: you saying on Letterman that you represent the entire country.

 

Dude, you don't. You don't represent me, or any other American, at all.  

There is, as you well know, a big difference between a US citizen and an American. I mean, you're a US citizen, odd birth certificate notwithstanding, but you're definitely not an American. An American believes the individual is more important than the mass, everyone is responsible for his own behavior, all rights are inherent, and the government is, at best, a necessary evil with very restricted powers.

Tell me what, if any of that, do you actually believe?

Seems to me you pretty much hold a completely opposite view on all those points. You are willing to impoverish Joe the Plumber just to give the people behind him a "fair shot." You blame Wall Street and banks for your own party's destruction of the housing market. You want to regulate free speech. And if there's one thing you are definitely into, it's expanding the power and reach of the US government so that it can tell us what to eat, what to think, what to read, and what to say.

From where does such hubris arise?

Well, that's easy to figure out— your Dad and Mom and Frank Davis Marshall filling your young skull with all the tripe of Marxism and collectivism, your drug-addled high school days making everything about you, and your extreme self-righteous college and post-college activism. What truly puzzles me, though, is, in the face of all the evidence, you still believe that crap.

I mean, you have more than enough historical proof that the entire collectivist/centralized approach to societal governance simply doesn't work. It impoverishes, enervates, coarsens, everyone. Heck, the  last three years alone show that all of your policy concepts simply don't work; yet, you remain committed to them.

So, you are either an oblivious moronic pseudo-intellectual masquerading as an open-minded sophisticate, like most Democrats, or...

A hate-filled, arrogant, contemptuous demagouge intent on destroying the Constitution.

Which is it?

Your friend,

Schlub

All's Sort of Well

Schlub had taken a bit of a theatrical hiatus this past year, but went back to it last weekend. I attended Shakespeare Theater's Free For All performance of All's Well That Ends Well.

Not being overly familiar with the play, I didn't have big expectations. There's no memorable soliloquies in it like "St. Crispin's Day" or "All the World's a Stage," at least, not one your average Schlub knows. So, I wasn't prepared to be wowed.

And I wasn't. "Workmanlike" would be a good one-word description. Everyone hit their lines and did their steps and there was even some singing and it was all pretty good. I was laughing throughout the entire thing because there's some funny stuff in there, especially Parolle's attempt to convince Helena that virginity is wrong. But, overall...eh.

Marsha Mason played the Countess of Rossillion. Yes, that Marsha Mason, and, ever since The Goodbye Girl, Schlub is somewhat of a fan. But she played the role like Marsha Mason playing a role: once you've seen her in something, you've seen her in everything. Cameron Folmar played Parolles in a distressingly flamboyant manner that was one mincing step too many. And poor Tony Roach. He was absolutely outstanding in The Liar, but, in Bertram, he's got a character so friggin' nasty there's no saving the guy.

There were some outstanding performances, of course. Miriam Silverman, who I just love, and who was equally outstanding as Lucrece in The Liar, did a great job with Helena. Adam Green, another Liar alumnus (and Miriam Silverman's husband), was hilarious as Lavatch, but had a tendency to overdo it a bit. The best performance, though, was Paxton Whitehead as Lafew. Oh man, he killed it, especially when he and Parolles were going at each other.

So, overall...eh. But a good eh.

  

 

RIP, Neil Armstrong

I saw you that night. Well, at least your leg, shadowy and ill-defined, tentative, feeling your way, and I knew you had actually placed your foot on the moon a couple of times before you actually stepped down and said that phrase. I, and practically everyone else in the world, heard this: "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." And, even at fourteen years old, I knew there was something wrong with that- was it a small step, or a giant leap?

Of course, we now all know the signal was cut out and you actually said..."for a man." Which was poetry, pure poetry. And, if I had heard it correctly, I probably would have swooned. And I'm not given to swooning.

Because the world changed, Neil, right then. It felt like the culmination of history. Even my fourteen year old soul knew it, and I leaped up and ran outside and grabbed my stupid little 60x Sears telescope and swore, SWORE, I saw you and Buzz and the flag right there, on the Sea. We, mankind (a word now despised, Neil), had loosed bonds. Magics had taken over, and it was 1492 and 1621 and 1776 and 1865, all over again. There was no limit. There was no end.

Since then...well.

But it doesn't take anything away from that night. Your night. And yes, yes, thousands got you there but, Neil, you're the one. You're the one who delivered it.

So, on your way to wherever, stop by. Give the flag a shake. Send a little note back to us that, even in the grips of mediocrity, there's still loosed bonds. Still magics.

For all mankind.

Curiosity, with no dead cats

Look at this: we dropped a VW camper bus on the surface of Mars in an extraordinary choreograph of orbit and angle and thrust and parachute.

Still got it.

But Schlub, Schlub, what a waste of time and money! And aren't you the guy who thinks the government should stay out of everything?

Well, the government should stay out of people's lives and ways, of course, but we come together and form a government to take care of certain functions. Like defense. Like commerce.

Like exploration.

How else do we marshal resources and send the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria where no man has gone before? Well, white men, anyway. Where else do you think you're going to find those exotic minerals, previously unknown resources, miracle cures and astounding technology, unless you head out there?

And, besides, contractors put the Curiosity together, not the government; they just asked somebody to do it.  

See what you can do when you dream?

Mazeltov, NASA.

Eat More Chikin'

We Americans sort of listen to your cant while going about our business. Most of what you say is harmless, so you're pretty easy to ignore. But, every once in awhile, you go too far, like threatening a business. And what do we do? Smash shop windows, camp in parks and defecate all over them, scream at your children while blocking your front yard? Burn things?

No. We just show up.

In droves. In legions.

Just like we're going to do in November.

You'll be stunned for weeks.

Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, in the beginning, which wasn't a beginning (okay, about four years ago), the King of Everything was golf-carting across the land, blessing the peasants and children with his beneficence, allowing them to bask in the brilliance that was him, when he chanced upon a sad little peasant. "My son," the King said gently, "why the downcast expression when I, your Lord Leige and Illuminator, am among you?"

"Oh, great King!" the peasant wailed, "I am without direction and interest, finding myself here, in the middle of this mud field, without any idea of what to do."

"Ah," the Wise King said, "a man of no productivity. Let me fix that." And the King stretched forth his mighty hand and, invoking the magic words, "StalLenin!", cast a spell. Suddenly, a blinding light issued forth from the earth, a choir of heavenly angels sang a single note of "Aaah!" and erupting from the raw materials of the world there sprang forth interstates and sewers and street lights and municipal waste management and electrical power and wires (no solar or wind power yet. Even magic has its limits) and policemen and trucks and DMVs and City Councils and zoning and industrial might. And the King saw that it was good.

The peasant, though, remained sad faced and wailing. "My child," the King said gently, "I have given you great gifts of infrastructure. Why do you remain downcast?"

"Oh, Great King," the peasant wailed, "I am most astonished by your wondrous gifts to me and the rest of the undeserving, but I still do not know what to DO with such bounty."

"Ah," the Great King nodded wisely and stretched forth his hand and uttered, "All Linsky!" and there arose among the magnificence of the infrastructure schools of the elementary, with comely golden-haired teachers to impart knowledge of the King's Wisdom, buildings of great high schools to teach the wonder that is government, and universities of sage wizards where is imparted the truth for the moment. And the peasant was whisked away on the backs of the Dispossessed and was bathed in the Sense of the Court and whirled back to stand before his Lord and Leader. "Oh, Great King!" he cried, "I now know what to do! I shall...become a plumber!"

"And I!" said his wife, "shall drive large trucks across the roads you have built and give you tithes through my union membership!"

"And I," said the peasant's brilliant son, "will invent the internet and give everyone Facebook and porn."

"And I," said the equally brilliant peasant daughter, "shall build hospitals where only those less than 55 years old may be treated." And there was much dancing and rejoicing.

But then a dark cloud covered the sun and a wind of terrible reaction blew and lo! there appeared the evil Witch of the Right, Sarappalin. And the peasants were sore afraid. "Now, hold on here just a minute, bub," she spoke with great disrespect at the Lord King, "we've actually had these things for a lot longer than you've..."

"MSENBEESEE!" roared the Great King in his terrible wrath, and a hurricane of Correctness picked up the horrible witch and blew her to the land of Bitter Clingers. And she was never heard from again.

And there was much dancing and rejoicing.

Left our doors unlocked, too

We could count the number of mass murderers between 1950 and 1975 on one hand. Charles Whitman, Richard Speck, Charles Starkweather, Charles Manson (hmm, maybe Moms should stop naming their kids 'Charles'), episodic monster so rare we knew their names. They became boogeymen.

Since then, we've lost count. Harris and Klebold, Tim McVeigh, Cho, Defeo, Hasan, Colin Ferguson, many we don't even remember...and now this clown, Holmes. They're not even boogeymen anymore, just dangers we've come to accept.

What happened to us?

Oh, the influence of video games and movies, drugs, paint chips, global warming, whatever. But, really, it's just one thing: we no longer value the individual.  

Back when Schlub was a bald-faced boy, guns were like shirts—everybody had at least one, maybe even a dozen. There were so many guns lying around my house I had to move them to get to the silverware. At twelve years old, I thought nothing of grabbing a rifle and going outside to hunt snakes. My parents thought nothing of it, either. Neither did the neighbors. It never occurred to me to take those guns to school and settle scores. It didn't occur to anyone. You took care of bullies yourself, either fight them off or run away. You let your ex-girlfriend go. You quit a job when the boss mistreated you.

You didn't kill them all, and any unfortunate bystanders.

We did not shoot up our schools and neighborhoods because we believed that everyone, even the bully, was entitled to live. Sure, they made us mad and afraid, but that was a test of character, not an excuse for wholesale slaughter. We didn't worry about someone kicking in the classroom door and spraying lead indiscriminately. No one would do that; it was just completely out of our character. The boogeyman were rare, like clear air lightening, and the State made sure they got an appointment with Ol' Sparky. We didn't worry about those guys.

Now...

Everyone is the center of the universe, everyone is a winner, movies are all about you, and killing lots of people is an afterthought. There is no God, no truth, no soul, and society and Republicans are the reason you don't have anything. Madison Avenue hypnotizes, parents nag, the principal is a jerk, and the neighborhood kids are mean.

Everything is somebody else's fault. Everything.

You're owed, that's what your teachers said so, poor, benighted and abused victim of corporate greed, load up your rifles and kill kill kill all the oppressors and their babies as they watch a movie that's really all about you.

Brought to you by public education, victim mentality, and the Democrat party.

What it takes to be President

They're all abuzz on the radio today about Condeleeza Rice. I love Condeleeza Rice. She is a brilliant Soviet scholar who can stand toe-to-toe with Putin and his gang of thugs. I would pick her for National Security Advisor or Secretary of State again. But VP? Nope. Waste of her talents.

Amidst all the buzz, some pundit asked if Rice, or Rubio or Pawlenty or whoever, had the experience to be President. That one heartbeat away thing and all.

Experience to be President? Where, exactly, does one get such experience?

Oh, c'mon, Schlub, that's easy— you get it from being a Senator or Congressman or mayor or governor, yeah, especially governor, 'cause that's like being a minature President.

Uh, no.

All that "experience" makes you a better politician. And politicians are the LAST persons who should be President. Indeed, all the people you think should be President, shouldn't.

Let's take Ronald Reagan as an example. Guy should never have been President. I mean, an actor? With chimps? Divorced? Didn't go to Harvard, either. A governor, sure, but you know, California, the Twilight Zone. Wore a cowboy hat, too, so just not the sophisticated brie-eatin' Foreign-Affairs-published sophisticate we want to elect so Europeans will stop calling us rubes.

Won in a landslide, yes, but only because of the same "infected toe" situation we are in today: running against Jimmy Carter, who was Obama Lite. Besides, winning by a landslide is no measure of Presidential stature, as the current situation proves.

It's what you do afterwards.

Reagan was an astonishingly brilliant President, the best one of these modern times, a hero, a wonder. And he shouldn't have been, given professional politicians' criteria for leading. So, why was he?

Simple. He regarded these truths to be self-evident:

a. The individual is more important than the mass.

b. The United States is an aberration, historically unique, and while this model serves as example, it only works here. Be grateful, be awestruck, that you are an American.

c. Nothing can be accomplished through government. Indeed, government must diminish so the individual can flourish.

d. Rights are inherent, not granted.

Find me that person. Don't care how old they are, what their job is, where they live. That person is a President.

Declaration 2.0

We hold it self-evident that the United States of America is the only country ever founded under the concept that the individual matters. Every preceding country was founded by conquest, and ruled by elites who regarded their population as mere peasants to be managed, controlled, and kept in their places. Not so here. The idea of America transcended race, religion, ethnicity and social class, a concept so radical that an additional war was fought between countrymen some eighty years after America's founding to settle remaining questions. Even today, there is resistance. Some persons just simply don't like the idea of others living freely.

And those persons have become our rulers. The very factions our founders warned us about have coalesced into parties, both of which seek control of the country. One of those parties has become so dangerously anti-freedom that it must, at all costs, be completely replaced and destroyed in the next election cycle. The replacing party, while not so bad, still believes that government is the solution and will, under its four year reign, do as much damage to individual rights as the party they replaced.

This must stop.

Therefore, the people of this country proclaim a pox on both your houses, and advise the politicians, party leaders, government functionaries and bureaucrats that we are mad as hell and are not going to take it anymore. Either you recognize that we, the People, have primacy over your plans and programs and bureaus and regulations, or be prepared to ride feather-covered rails out of town.

Get me?

Letter

Dear Justice Roberts,
 
My first inclination was to call you a traitor to the Constitution. After all, you just sold America down the river. But, upon reflection, that may have been a bit hasty.

Because I see what you did: you struck down the Commerce Clause and labeled the penalty a tax. Good on ya. We no longer have to worry about the government using the general welfare as an excuse to tell us what to eat, what to buy, where to live, and what to say. And, despite Baracula's disingenuous arguments to the contrary, a tax is a tax. And I, like you, believe a country gets the government it deserves and if we were stupid enough to elect this Marxist, it ain't the Supreme Court's job to protect us from our own stupidity.

But...

You did not have to go through all the strenuous effort to make Obamacare constitutional. Given their arguments, and your response, you should have let the whole thing collapse. Instead, you went out of your way, in an absolutely uncalled for manner, to justify upholding it. That was far beyond the call of duty, and shows you to be in somewhat of a snit. The problem is, when judges get into a snit, innocent people suffer. Comrade Obama and the Monarchist Party got this thing through by perpetuating a fraud, and you, in a snit, aided and abetted it.

You did not act like a judge. You did not protect the innocent.

See, in order for this whole law thing to work, we schlubs have to believe that wise and impartial judges will fill the gap between the schlubs' ignorance of the law's millions of conflicting and nonsensical nuances, and ongoing criminal efforts by Monarchists and Frauds to use those conflicts as means for cleaning out the schlubs' wallets. But if judges get into snits and make rulings they and their buddies can discuss and admire over brie and champagne in country clubs we schlubs can't afford to join, then you have abandoned your responsibility to us. And if judges are more interested in their own snits than the schlubs' need for protection, then the law is just words on paper.

Words on paper can be burned.

So, based on your ruling, the government can now tax us for a state of being. Today, it's lack of health care insurance. Tomorrow, lack of a college degree? How 'bout being white? Oh that'll never happen, you snort.

Uh huh.

You do realize you have devolved the Supreme Court into just one more body part of Leviathan, right? That the Court is uncaring of me and the rest of the schlubs, your "let them eat cake" attitude quite apparent? Okay, good, as long as you realize that.

And I do realize that you have kicked it back to us, saying, "If you don't like decisions like this, then stop voting for Democrats, Monarchists, and other Tory parties." Okay, wid you, bro, and I never have voted for groups like that. But murder isn't supposed to happen, either, and aren't you judges responsible for meting out proper justice to murderers?

Perhaps you should have considered that, instead of the snit.  

So, it could very well be that you are not a traitor. But, I'll bet you could play one on TV.

Your friend,

Schlub

R.I.P., RB

Ray Bradbury died the other day. For those of a certain age and geekiness, it’s like the passing of Elvis, or Jackie Onassis. An era fades.

Ray Bradbury was the guy who lit the spark. Marvel Comics taught me to read, but Ray Bradbury taught me to love it. Sure, Robert Heinlein and Alex Key and Sheila Moon and Madeline L’Engle did, too, but it was Bradbury who formed the core.

I can’t remember the first time I read one of his stories. I think it was somewhere around 1967. I used to spend my afternoons in the Ft. Rucker library while Mom went to the Commissary, and I would check out about 10-15 books when she came to get me. One of his was in that pile, probably The Martian Chronicles, dunno, but, by the summer of 1968, he was absolutely my favorite author and I had read…everything. R is for Rocket was his best anthology, neck-and-neck with The October Country and S is for Space. My favorite novel was Something Wicked This Way Comes, which was made into not-a-half-bad movie with Jason Robards (although, overall, RB didn’t translate well into film. Remember the Rock Hudson Martian Chronicles? Ugh).

There was something about his style, sentences careened across theme and event and crashed back into themselves, evoking an incredible sense of place and atmosphere. It felt like RB got it, that he knew the essence of growing up and the ephemeral moments of play and sunset and the smells of newly mown grass and how…fleeting…it is.  All Summer in a Day, wow.  I read Dandelion Wine back then, too, and didn’t really get the stories but the sense of it, the passing of things that make up memory, I got that.

I stopped reading him sometime in the late 70’s. Was into Tolkien and Herbert and Hesse then. A few years ago, I picked up some  stuff he had written recently but stopped about halfway through the first story because something was missing.

I think it was me.

Anyways, salud, mazeltov, mud in your eye, RB. You were the best. The Man’s out there. Go find Him.

Letter

Dear Governor Romney,

Pretty much in the bag, ain’t it? Stunning, I’ll bet. After all, we real conservatives don’t hold you in the highest regard (that whole Romneycare thing), and it’s supposed to be another Tea Party year. But there you are, only a fat lady song away from being President. You’re probably crediting your campaign, your campaign manager, the Republican National Committee, your scintillating speeches and Ken-doll looks, for that, but you shouldn’t.

It’s just a matter of timing.

Now timing is nothing to sneeze at. Mostly it’s a skill, requiring measures of patience and decisiveness and cojones, and Schlub is the master of it (por ejemplo, I managed to sell a house and retire a lot of debt just before things went into the crapper). You don’t evince a lot of decisiveness, and your cojone-ness seems on the diminished side, but you do have a fair amount of patience. And all good things come to those who wait.

Because the time is now. Marxists took over the Presidency and Congress and, after three years of torching the countryside, we real Americans have had enough.  Whatever social issues divide us, we thoroughly understand that electing Democrats to office this November is tantamount to joining the Soviet bloc, so we will, en masse, vote Republican. That you happen to be the candidate is just a fortuitous situation.

For you. Not for us.

See, you emerged from a field of midgets. Any one of them —Newt, Santorum, Paul— would win just as big as you’re going to this November. Heck, an infected toe would win. So don’t be thinking you’re the next Reagan or something.

You’re not.

The big disqualifying factor, the one thing making you the candidate of timing rather than time, is that you believe government is the answer. To everything. Now, you are definitely a nice guy, good family man, brilliant businessman, and you do believe in individual rights. But you, and the rest of the Republican Party, still consider legislation and bills and laws and regulations to be the answer to all of mankind’s problems. Oh sure, you do it from a conservative perspective, still regard private property and freedom as paramount, but you still want to manage all of that from DC.

See, Gov, we conservatives have had enough of government. We don’t want you to help us, make our lives better, look after us. We can do that ourselves. We want you to leave us alone.

And while you’ve promised to eliminate Obamacare, change the tax code, and get rid of regulations, you still have a penchant for universal healthcare of some kind, some kind of income taxes, and other kinds of regulations. It’s a better kinder approach, but it’s akin to sharpening the guillotine so the peasants won’t suffer. Know what I mean?

No, you don’t. Which is why this is the last election I vote for Republicans. I will be joining a third party on November 7^th and voting neither Dem nor Rep in 2012.

But at least you get to be President. Once.

Your friend,

Schlub

Expelled

The sheer genius that is Community continues apace, with that astonishing tribute to Starburns and subsequent disciplinary action.

E Pluribus Anus.

Assemble

Avengers, that is.

Schlub and Baby Schlub went to the Mighty Marvel Marathon at Tyson's Corner, preceding the midnight release of The Avengers. What an absolute blast. Iron Man, Cap, the Wasp, Hulk, Thor, and Black Widow were there. What's funny, Iron Man told me none of them knew each other, they just all happened to show up appropriately dressed. Wasp and I advised Widow that she really wasn't an Avenger, never was, but she is so kick-ass she gets a by.

And then the movie...

Schlub, and every other Marvel True Believer, has been waiting 50 years for this movie.

Masterpiece. 

Bumper Stickers

Romney: Can't be any Worse.

Vote Democrat, comrade.

Vote Obama: China can Use the Money.

Reagan, Carter...no brainer. Romney, Obama...ditto

Astronomy 102

The May issue of Astronomy (apparently, they’ve broken the time barrier) had this other article, “What has astronomy done for you lately?” which lists some recent consumer benefits from astronomical research. Apparently, the editors are miffed that we Great Unwashed are objecting to shelling out even more of our hard-earned tax money to fund their favorite projects, like the $8 billion James Webb Space telescope. So, a Better Living Through Chemistry piece.

Talk about reaching.

They attribute GPS to Einstein. See, he was sitting around one day thinking about warps in space/ time and, presto, we end up with GPS satellite systems. I always thought it was due to the military wanting a more precise way of dropping a missile on Ivan, but, no. Einstein musings.

Same for wireless internet, which originated in Stephen Hawkings thoughts about black holes; gold as a possible cancer therapy from snits over sun elements (you have to read it); and accurate laser eye surgery from the Webb’s cost overruns.

Wow.

All of which is like claiming heat pumps originated with Cro-Magnons smacking flint and granite together.  I get it, you want more of our money, but, dudes, you’re going to have to get more LoS if you expect us to buy the argument.

Think Tang and Teflon.

Astronomy 101

Schlub is a reader of the science publication Astronomy, more from a “it’s good to have been here” perspective than anything. I’m clueless about the math, the physics baffle me, and I couldn’t tell a quark from a boson, but they have pretty pictures and star charts. Afterwards, we’ll get ice cream.

The mag tends, though, to the smug, especially when regarding the non-astrophysicist community. F’rinstance, the lead article this month was “What Happens When we Detect Alien Life?” (a rather slob-appeal title, IMHO. Mayhaps hoping for a few off-the-rack sales?). The whole thing was rather giggly over the concept, and you could just see the writers smacking knuckles together in gleeful anticipation of what such an event would do to all those slope-headed fundamentalist Christians out there.

But I can’t help wondering what their reaction would be if the first message we get from Mars is, “Have you heard the word of God today?”

Now, that would be fun.

Letter

Dear Wolf Blitzer,

Hello! How are you? I was in the unfortunate position all last week of watching only CNN. I say “unfortunate” because I have not liked your network since the 90’s, when it deservedly earned the “Clinton News Network” sobriquet. I think “Commie News Network” is a bit more accurate, but I don’t get to make those decisions.

So, like I said, I found myself watching you a lot more than the one or two seconds I usually give your promotional spots before I switch to something more intelligent, like the Cartoon Network, and, of course, the experience reasserted earlier conclusions that CNN is just Pravda but, I gotta tell ya, the extremes you'll go to disguise your collectivist and elitist stance is just over the top. I mean, wow, the professorial beard and ‘stache and suit and portliness, designed to convey a kind of academician background fooling people into thinking you must be truly objective because you’re like, you know, a teacher or something, to the one or two seemingly objective questions your writers salt in once or twice an interview so you can make a claim of impartiality. Seriously, dude, who do you think you’re kidding?

Certainly not me.

For example, the other week when Obama called out the Supreme Court over Obamacare…you know, when he said it would be unprecedented for the SC to overturn legislation? (hello, Roe vs Wade, anybody?). So, okay, what do you do? You bring on Jeffrey Toobin. Jeffrey freakin’ I-Want-to-Marry-Obama Toobin.

Couldn’t you find someone with, say, objectivity?

Oh, right, forgot. CNN.

Anyways, the gist of Toobin’s explanation is that we Great Unwashed do not have the sophistication or grasp of nuance necessary to understand what Baracula said, that if we, too, attended Harvard and learned the subtleties and implications of Great Thought that Obama had (and that Toobin gets), then we would have certainly realized that Obama was not in any way challenging the Constitutional authority of the Surpeme Court. Oh no, he was merely expressing a concern that the Court would do something drastic and actually overturn a legislative act (see previous Roe vs Wade reference). Heaven forfend!

And you didn’t immediately wipe the floor with Toobin, like even a half-assed real reporter would have done?

Oh, right. Forgot. CNN.

Your friend,

Schlub

The One

So Rubio's out there telling us all to get behind Romney, and the morning show guys and just about everyone else is saying he's the guy so c'mon, Redumblicans, eschew others and jump on the Romneyvan.

No.

Because, Redumblicans, moderates, wonkies, he is not the one we want (by "we," I mean real conservatives, taxpayers, working people). He just isn't. Why?

Because he still holds tender in his heart the concept that government is the answer. Oh, sure, a nicer government, one that reflects conservative American values, rewards hard work and savings, cherishes the family and the individual.

But, still, government management of our lives, our efforts, our prosperity.

And we've had enough of that mindset.

Bring us a candidate who believes in the citizenry, not the Congress, who promotes the individual, not the process, and who considers the Bill of Rights absolutely inviolate and who will not only eliminate Obamacare but Romneycare, Gingrich Care, any and all kinds of government sponsored care and feeding of the masses. That's the candidate we want.

Please.

It's back!

Community, that is. A small sacrifice involving Alec Baldwin’s ears will be made to the TV gods, in gratitude.

Troy and Abed being normal.

The Hulk.

Man, perfect.

Dan Harmon for president.

Math

Price of 1 month’s worth of birth control pills at the Target located closest to Sandra Fluke’s school: $9.00. Amount- 30 pills.

Price of 1 morning-after pill at the same location: $49.00

Price of 3-pack condoms at the same location: $6.14.

Okay, we’re first solving for X, which is the number of times Sandra Fluke (uh, er, or one of her “friends”) had sex in three years.

Let’s see, a month’s worth of pills doesn’t really help because you can boff forty-five times a day on one pill, so we’ll just go for a ratio of 1 using that. You don’t take the Plan B every day, or, wow, you really shouldn’t, so let’s say 5 times a month to cover emergencies. So let’s figure a 30-day month, and we are:

[(30 + 5 + 3(30) [using three condoms a day]) * 12 months] * 3 years = 4500 times over a three year period.

Which gives us a per-day rate of : 4500/ 3*365 = 4.1 times per day.

Yowzah.

Now, just for the sake of argument, let’s say all this boffing occurred just on weekends. Usually most law students attend through the summer, so we’re going to make it a 365-day year.

Solving for x, the number of weekend days in a year: 365/2 *7 = 104. (By the way, Schlub was a bit stymied figuring this out so went here. The internet is a wonderful thing.)

Soooo, 4500/104*3= 14.4 times each weekend.

Again, yowzah.

And how much did all of this boffing actually cost the sweet young things? Let’s see, 12(9) + (5 (49) *12) + (6.14 *30 * 12) * 3 = (108 + 2940 + 2210) *3 = $15,774 over a three year period.

Obviously, Sandra greatly underestimated the cost of boffing in Georgetown.

And, Mr. Montaldi, you were right: algebra is fun.

Infected Toe

WMAL in DC has a morning show hosted by two moderates named Brian and conservative goddess Mary Katherine Ham. She wasn’t there this morning, so the moderates waxed moderately on the unelectability of Rick Santorum who, gosh darn it, just can’t beat Baracula.

Oy.

What the moderii and the rest of the talking heads in Fortress DC don’t get is this: we are not in the middle of an election, we are in the middle of a Civil War. Oh, not a violent one, no Sherman’s March or Gettysburg or anything like that (yet), but one, just the same. This is a fight to the death, NOT an interesting election highlighting subtle differences in policy and political theory.

They don’t know that because all those pundits and pollsters and editors only talk to each other. Just each other. They all go to the same parties, read the same papers, watch the same shows. They do not talk to us, the real people of America. No time for that, you see. Busy.

But Schlub does. Schlub winds his way up and down the byways and alleys and cities of America and engages his fellow citizenry in discussion, and has discovered something very very in'ressin': all those moderates and independents over whom the pundii tremble are going to vote ABO (Anybody But Obama) in November.

So, yes, Mitt Romney is electable, but so is Rick Santorum.

So is an infected toe.