I probably have nothing original to say regarding the Israeli killing of one of the founders of Hamas, Sheikh Yasmin. But that won't stop me, it never has. On the one hand the timing of his death seems odd, because they could have killed him any number of times before. On the other hand, maybe it was just their way of letting Hamas know that just because the people of Spain could be cowed with a bomb, Israel refuses to give in.
I don’t understand the protests of his killing- the man helped found a terrorist organization and was responsible for a lot of deaths. Protesters and the media repeatedly point out that he was old and wheelchair bound. As though that was an automatic Get Out Of Jail Free card. It was not, with a missile.
The Israelis should have scooped his remains into a trash barrel and thrown them, and his wheelchair, off the side of a cruise ship. Leon Klinghoffer’s family could do the dishonors. That idea would surely upset some people. It would upset them because Klinghoffer was an American and a Jew and therefore doubly deserving of his fate. Screw that.
Hamas is a death cult, it’s all they understand. How can you reason with a group that straps bombs to the bodies of their own boys? How do you have a meaningful dialogue with a group that kills babies? So you have to kill more of them so they understand, “The killing needs to end.” No more bombing busses and restaurants. No more killing innocent men, women and children. There will be no more bombing when they realize it’s to their advantage to stop.
Not that it’s going to happen in Israel. The Israelis don’t even exact an eye for an eye and as long as the Palestinians are showing a favorable balance sheet the killing will go on.
In contrast, right after the Sheikh was killed a Hamas spokesman declared they would exact revenge against Israel and the USA. Dubyah came out and said he took such a threat seriously. The next day Hamas said they would NOT exact revenge against the USA. It doesn’t take much to see why. Al Qaida took out two buildings in New York City. In response we knocked over two COUNTRIES. Dubya has made it clear to them, mess with us and we will hurt you more than you hurt us.
If Hamas starts revenge bombings it won’ t be until Dubya is out of office. God help us if we get an appeaser in the oval office. It won’t help to say “we’re sorry. Surely you only did that for valid reasons. We must have deserved it. What would make you happy?”. They’ll perceive it as a sign of weakness, and it will be. The madmen will run riot. The bombings won’t end.
I don’t grieve the death of a monster anymore than I grieve a monster being deposed. Want peace in the Middle East? It’s fairly easy. Tell the surrounding Islamic countries that continued assaults on our ally Israel will not be tolerated. None of their governments want to be the next Iraq. Somehow, I’m sure support for the Palestinian terrorists would dry up.
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
The Super Wife and I were discussing a few matters when we heard Ms. Pikachu let loose a cry of “Moooooom!” Only moments later Trainboy came running in and breathlessly declared, “Don’t believe a word she says. She’s lying.” Only six years-old and he’s already figured out you have to beat the bad news with spin. Maybe we should have named him Calvin.
In other news, Ms. Pikachu has informed her mother that this is the last year she wants to take flute. Ahem, that wouldn’t be the flute the Super Mom bought and paid for because the precocious child said she didn’t want to continue with piano lesson, but did want to take flute lessons, would it? Ladies and gentlemen let’s get ready to rumble!
In this corner- at 5 foot even, blonde haired, blue eyed, the poster child for ADHD, and puts the capital M in Mania- Ms. Pikachu!
And in this corner, standing at five foot and loose change, brunette, blue eyed and pinching pennies so tight Abe Lincoln screams “I surrender!”- Super Mom!
The bout will be refereed by Dad, from outside the ring, because Dad is a weenie.
Its going to be a good fight but the smart money will be on Super Mom.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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In other news, Ms. Pikachu has informed her mother that this is the last year she wants to take flute. Ahem, that wouldn’t be the flute the Super Mom bought and paid for because the precocious child said she didn’t want to continue with piano lesson, but did want to take flute lessons, would it? Ladies and gentlemen let’s get ready to rumble!
In this corner- at 5 foot even, blonde haired, blue eyed, the poster child for ADHD, and puts the capital M in Mania- Ms. Pikachu!
And in this corner, standing at five foot and loose change, brunette, blue eyed and pinching pennies so tight Abe Lincoln screams “I surrender!”- Super Mom!
The bout will be refereed by Dad, from outside the ring, because Dad is a weenie.
Its going to be a good fight but the smart money will be on Super Mom.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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Tuesday, March 23, 2004
I haven’t done anything political in quite a while, so here goes. Let me restate that I’m a political independent, so it’s with no ax to grind when I ask, What in the world is going on with the Democratic Party?
They had nine candidates and after all the bloodletting the man left standing is J. F. Kerry? I don’t get it.
I realize that after Dubya kicked terrorist butt in Afghanistan, overthrew a truly evil dictator, and landed on an aircraft carrier the Democrats felt a need to come up with a candidate with some military credentials of his own. At first that seemed like Wesley Clark, but then his role in Waco came out, his decision making in Bosnia, and he kept sticking his foot in his mouth like he was craving a chew toy. Exit brass hat Clark.
But they had eight more to choose from. Most seemed to self-destruct, or just had a campaign life that wasn’t viable outside a smoke-filled room. While the candidates tried to gut each other they tried to smear Bush over his service in the Guard. They didn’t have the success they wanted so they still needed a war hero anyway to offset Dubya’s successes against the terrorists.
“Did you know I served in Viet Nam?” Kerry rose to the top. If Kerry actually wins the nomination it would have to be the Republican’s dream. Vets groups will savage him over his service in Viet Nam. His questionable war stories, his turncoat war protests will be explored with the same vigor they tried to smear Bush. What was supposed to be his biggest asset will turn into a terrific liability. Then it will all come down to, after all his lies about his record, after his inability to maintain a stand on any issue, is this really the guy you want in the oval office prosecuting the war on terrorism? Are you willing to turn over the fate of this country to a guy who’d bend to the will of the corrupt USA haters in the UN? An organization that puts a terrorist nation in charge of anti-terrorism efforts? A supposedly benevolent organization that runs programs like “Oil for Food” that are so corrupt no one knows where the money has gone?
This is my nightmare. That Kerry closes in on the nomination and then becomes an unviable candidate. The party will be in a dither, what to do, what to do? On the national stage without a candidate to clinch the nomination- they’ll be fearful that they look ineffectual and are losing their chance against Dubya. Out of the wings will step the Party’s Salvation- Hillary. Sure she has no war record, but at least she has no bad one, and half the voters are women, and there’s lots of minority voters that will go with any Democrat, and the South will vote for her since she’s Southern.
If I was certified paranoid I’d figure all this is being orchestrated by Bill Clinton, a guy who wants more White House time and can’t get enough interns. Go ahead, reserve the rubber room.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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They had nine candidates and after all the bloodletting the man left standing is J. F. Kerry? I don’t get it.
I realize that after Dubya kicked terrorist butt in Afghanistan, overthrew a truly evil dictator, and landed on an aircraft carrier the Democrats felt a need to come up with a candidate with some military credentials of his own. At first that seemed like Wesley Clark, but then his role in Waco came out, his decision making in Bosnia, and he kept sticking his foot in his mouth like he was craving a chew toy. Exit brass hat Clark.
But they had eight more to choose from. Most seemed to self-destruct, or just had a campaign life that wasn’t viable outside a smoke-filled room. While the candidates tried to gut each other they tried to smear Bush over his service in the Guard. They didn’t have the success they wanted so they still needed a war hero anyway to offset Dubya’s successes against the terrorists.
“Did you know I served in Viet Nam?” Kerry rose to the top. If Kerry actually wins the nomination it would have to be the Republican’s dream. Vets groups will savage him over his service in Viet Nam. His questionable war stories, his turncoat war protests will be explored with the same vigor they tried to smear Bush. What was supposed to be his biggest asset will turn into a terrific liability. Then it will all come down to, after all his lies about his record, after his inability to maintain a stand on any issue, is this really the guy you want in the oval office prosecuting the war on terrorism? Are you willing to turn over the fate of this country to a guy who’d bend to the will of the corrupt USA haters in the UN? An organization that puts a terrorist nation in charge of anti-terrorism efforts? A supposedly benevolent organization that runs programs like “Oil for Food” that are so corrupt no one knows where the money has gone?
This is my nightmare. That Kerry closes in on the nomination and then becomes an unviable candidate. The party will be in a dither, what to do, what to do? On the national stage without a candidate to clinch the nomination- they’ll be fearful that they look ineffectual and are losing their chance against Dubya. Out of the wings will step the Party’s Salvation- Hillary. Sure she has no war record, but at least she has no bad one, and half the voters are women, and there’s lots of minority voters that will go with any Democrat, and the South will vote for her since she’s Southern.
If I was certified paranoid I’d figure all this is being orchestrated by Bill Clinton, a guy who wants more White House time and can’t get enough interns. Go ahead, reserve the rubber room.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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10/08/03
Mother has been wallpapering the dining room while she visits. The old stuff was an eyesore that looked like cross-hatched bamboo. The new stuff looks like green leaves and big pink flowers with a metallic sheen. It looks quite lovely.
After calling it quits for the day we went out to eat at Ryans. Of course we were all stuffed by the time we left. The day’s routine plot took an unexpected twist when we got back to the van. We hadn’t even gotten into the van when a woman came out of the restaurant and started yelling at us that we’d hit her car.
That was news to me. When I pulled in I certainly hadn’t hit any other vehicle. We waited for her to cross the parking lot with her group. She claimed she’d seen us hit her daughter’s car that was parked next to us. I was sure I hadn’t hit the car. She clarified, she’d seen a passenger get out of my van and door her daughter’s car.
This still made no sense. I listen and watch to see if anybody is careless in opening a door, and there’s only one to pay attention to. I don’t door anyone. The slide door can’t door anyone, and that leaves only one other door. I was sure we hadn’t doored that car, but didn’t say anything. She was sure she needed the name of our insurance agent. She was very aggressive, so much for all Iowans being nice.
I told her I didn’t think it happened. She insisted she’d witnessed it. I told her I wanted to see the damage. She showed me a mark on the door caused by being doored. Alright, there was a dent. But the dent on her car was in front to the leading edge of the van door. This made no sense. The woman continued to rant while I slowly opened the door. The door stopped a good foot short of the dent. No way did anyone in my van dent that car.
That shut her up, for a second. Then she turned to her daughter and said, “I’m sorry honey, I tried.” Tried what? A false insurance claim? Perjury? She thought that maybe it was the vehicle parked in the spot before us after all. Well that explains everything. Thanks a lot and have a good night. We got in the van and left.
Encounters like that really bother me. There's the stress of the encounter. There's replaying it over and over in your head, wondering how it should have been handled better. There's wishing I could have been as aggressive right back at her because, in a way, she tried to lie about my liability and when it was over she got to walk away from it with nothing more than an oh sorry. It just drives me nuts.
On the upside, the kids got to see their father deal with a stressful situation in a controlled, logical manner. So it's just as well I didn't explode. It's just as well I didn't get nasty. Weenies uber alles!
Mother has been wallpapering the dining room while she visits. The old stuff was an eyesore that looked like cross-hatched bamboo. The new stuff looks like green leaves and big pink flowers with a metallic sheen. It looks quite lovely.
After calling it quits for the day we went out to eat at Ryans. Of course we were all stuffed by the time we left. The day’s routine plot took an unexpected twist when we got back to the van. We hadn’t even gotten into the van when a woman came out of the restaurant and started yelling at us that we’d hit her car.
That was news to me. When I pulled in I certainly hadn’t hit any other vehicle. We waited for her to cross the parking lot with her group. She claimed she’d seen us hit her daughter’s car that was parked next to us. I was sure I hadn’t hit the car. She clarified, she’d seen a passenger get out of my van and door her daughter’s car.
This still made no sense. I listen and watch to see if anybody is careless in opening a door, and there’s only one to pay attention to. I don’t door anyone. The slide door can’t door anyone, and that leaves only one other door. I was sure we hadn’t doored that car, but didn’t say anything. She was sure she needed the name of our insurance agent. She was very aggressive, so much for all Iowans being nice.
I told her I didn’t think it happened. She insisted she’d witnessed it. I told her I wanted to see the damage. She showed me a mark on the door caused by being doored. Alright, there was a dent. But the dent on her car was in front to the leading edge of the van door. This made no sense. The woman continued to rant while I slowly opened the door. The door stopped a good foot short of the dent. No way did anyone in my van dent that car.
That shut her up, for a second. Then she turned to her daughter and said, “I’m sorry honey, I tried.” Tried what? A false insurance claim? Perjury? She thought that maybe it was the vehicle parked in the spot before us after all. Well that explains everything. Thanks a lot and have a good night. We got in the van and left.
Encounters like that really bother me. There's the stress of the encounter. There's replaying it over and over in your head, wondering how it should have been handled better. There's wishing I could have been as aggressive right back at her because, in a way, she tried to lie about my liability and when it was over she got to walk away from it with nothing more than an oh sorry. It just drives me nuts.
On the upside, the kids got to see their father deal with a stressful situation in a controlled, logical manner. So it's just as well I didn't explode. It's just as well I didn't get nasty. Weenies uber alles!
3/22/04
Took the day off. Slept in. On the one hand sleeping in is a terrible waste of free time. On the other hand, I like it a lot. I feel downright… rested.
Didn’t do a thing. We ate lunch at Ryan’s. Ms. Pikachu hollowed out a dinner roll through a hole she made on an edge. Then she held it up to her lips and blew in and out. It expanded and contracted and the diagonal crease on it made it look like a pumping heart. That kid is just nuts, and never dull.
Ms. Pikachu had what I can only describe as a gymnastics class recital. Trainboy wanted to stay home so I stayed home with him. The Super Mom reports Ms. Pikachu did her best yet. Even Ms. Pikachu was happy.
The evening was pizza for everyone. The wife and I watched -The Talk of the Town It was made in 1942 and starred Cary Grant, Jean Arthur, and Ronald Colman. Even though he was third on the billing I liked Ronald Colman the most. There’s a reason Cary Grant was a huge star, but personally, I find his suaveness a little too affected. Ronald Colman came across as sophisticated yet genuine. Watching this movie I’d have expected Colman would be the bigger star. Obviously he wasn’t, and life isn’t fair. Maybe dying in 1958 had something to do with it.
It was a good movie- nominated for seven Academy Awards. The jacket calls it madcap and zany, I’d call it broad or light. Not that it matters. Cary Grant plays Dilg, a fellow accused of being a rabble-rouser, and falsely accused of being an arsonist that burned down the local factory. He doesn’t limit himself to facts; he goes by feelings. He’s a liberal. Colman plays a visiting law professor who has a strict “everything by the facts, everything by the rules” interpretation of the law. He’s obviously a conservative.
Eventually they both come to respect the other, justice is served, and one of them gets the girl, and only one. Because even though the professor respects the liberal position he is not a liberal. Near the end the professor makes an impassioned plea on behalf of our legal system and the need for everyone to do their part. That might seem corny if done today, but in 1942 it must have looked like the axis of Germany and Japan were closing in on all sides and people were in need of a little cheerleading.
It was a nice enough movie. But there are better ones to watch. It does make me want to check out movies by Ronald Colman (Academy Award winner 1948 for ‘A Double Life’)
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Took the day off. Slept in. On the one hand sleeping in is a terrible waste of free time. On the other hand, I like it a lot. I feel downright… rested.
Didn’t do a thing. We ate lunch at Ryan’s. Ms. Pikachu hollowed out a dinner roll through a hole she made on an edge. Then she held it up to her lips and blew in and out. It expanded and contracted and the diagonal crease on it made it look like a pumping heart. That kid is just nuts, and never dull.
Ms. Pikachu had what I can only describe as a gymnastics class recital. Trainboy wanted to stay home so I stayed home with him. The Super Mom reports Ms. Pikachu did her best yet. Even Ms. Pikachu was happy.
The evening was pizza for everyone. The wife and I watched -The Talk of the Town It was made in 1942 and starred Cary Grant, Jean Arthur, and Ronald Colman. Even though he was third on the billing I liked Ronald Colman the most. There’s a reason Cary Grant was a huge star, but personally, I find his suaveness a little too affected. Ronald Colman came across as sophisticated yet genuine. Watching this movie I’d have expected Colman would be the bigger star. Obviously he wasn’t, and life isn’t fair. Maybe dying in 1958 had something to do with it.
It was a good movie- nominated for seven Academy Awards. The jacket calls it madcap and zany, I’d call it broad or light. Not that it matters. Cary Grant plays Dilg, a fellow accused of being a rabble-rouser, and falsely accused of being an arsonist that burned down the local factory. He doesn’t limit himself to facts; he goes by feelings. He’s a liberal. Colman plays a visiting law professor who has a strict “everything by the facts, everything by the rules” interpretation of the law. He’s obviously a conservative.
Eventually they both come to respect the other, justice is served, and one of them gets the girl, and only one. Because even though the professor respects the liberal position he is not a liberal. Near the end the professor makes an impassioned plea on behalf of our legal system and the need for everyone to do their part. That might seem corny if done today, but in 1942 it must have looked like the axis of Germany and Japan were closing in on all sides and people were in need of a little cheerleading.
It was a nice enough movie. But there are better ones to watch. It does make me want to check out movies by Ronald Colman (Academy Award winner 1948 for ‘A Double Life’)
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Sunday, March 21, 2004
3/21/04
We went to church, of course.
Afterwards there was disagreement over where we’d eat lunch. Ms. Pikachu wanted Hy-Vee. Trainboy wanted Italian. Somehow the compromise was KFC. Don’t ask me how that happens; I just say “alrighty.”
Ms. Pikachu expressed concern that there would be nothing for me to eat since I don’t eat poultry. Dear child. I told her I could do just fine on the side orders of baked beans, cole slaw, and potato salad. So we pulled into KFC.
Lo and behold, proof that God still loves me, they were selling chicken potpies- the exception to my ‘no poultry’ rule. This may seem odd, and indeed it is, especially after I explain.
I’ve been queasy about eating chicken since I was a kid. Because as a kid I pulled some meat off a leg and right there were veins, arteries, ligaments- a whole freaking biology class. It made me queasy indeed.
And then I was watching 60 Minutes and they did an expose on poultry processing. They showed chicken processing conditions weren’t very nice. In fact, to pick up water weight chicken carcasses were soaked in what amounted to “fecal soup.” So much for chicken for me. I don’t think I’ve eaten a piece of chicken since. Only cheeseburgers and meatloaf have kept me from vegetarianism.
Don’t ask me why, but I can still eat chicken potpie. It is the exception to the rule, and a silly one at that. Because if anything looks like chicken in fecal soup it’s chicken potpie. It makes no sense. I can’t explain it. All I can say is that I like it. But I don’t eat the chicken.
3/21 Part II
The SuperWife is at work so I ask the kids what they’d like to eat for supper. Trainboy wants chicken nuggets- big surprise. So I tell Ms. Pikachu I’m getting food from Wendys and what does she want. Not surprisingly she says a cheeseburger. I asked her if she’d like a chili also. She smiles and says, “I don’t want A chili, I want YOUR chili.” Men are from Mars, women are from the IRS. Not that I can really complain. When I get them their kids’ meals I exercise a fry tax. They don’t know it. But while I’m on the way home they pay it. Which just goes to show that if you have your fries deducted before you get them it doesn't even hurt, it's just like the old savings bond commercial. The difference being they're saved in my gut, they don't draw interest, and you don't want them back. Other than that it's just like it.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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We went to church, of course.
Afterwards there was disagreement over where we’d eat lunch. Ms. Pikachu wanted Hy-Vee. Trainboy wanted Italian. Somehow the compromise was KFC. Don’t ask me how that happens; I just say “alrighty.”
Ms. Pikachu expressed concern that there would be nothing for me to eat since I don’t eat poultry. Dear child. I told her I could do just fine on the side orders of baked beans, cole slaw, and potato salad. So we pulled into KFC.
Lo and behold, proof that God still loves me, they were selling chicken potpies- the exception to my ‘no poultry’ rule. This may seem odd, and indeed it is, especially after I explain.
I’ve been queasy about eating chicken since I was a kid. Because as a kid I pulled some meat off a leg and right there were veins, arteries, ligaments- a whole freaking biology class. It made me queasy indeed.
And then I was watching 60 Minutes and they did an expose on poultry processing. They showed chicken processing conditions weren’t very nice. In fact, to pick up water weight chicken carcasses were soaked in what amounted to “fecal soup.” So much for chicken for me. I don’t think I’ve eaten a piece of chicken since. Only cheeseburgers and meatloaf have kept me from vegetarianism.
Don’t ask me why, but I can still eat chicken potpie. It is the exception to the rule, and a silly one at that. Because if anything looks like chicken in fecal soup it’s chicken potpie. It makes no sense. I can’t explain it. All I can say is that I like it. But I don’t eat the chicken.
3/21 Part II
The SuperWife is at work so I ask the kids what they’d like to eat for supper. Trainboy wants chicken nuggets- big surprise. So I tell Ms. Pikachu I’m getting food from Wendys and what does she want. Not surprisingly she says a cheeseburger. I asked her if she’d like a chili also. She smiles and says, “I don’t want A chili, I want YOUR chili.” Men are from Mars, women are from the IRS. Not that I can really complain. When I get them their kids’ meals I exercise a fry tax. They don’t know it. But while I’m on the way home they pay it. Which just goes to show that if you have your fries deducted before you get them it doesn't even hurt, it's just like the old savings bond commercial. The difference being they're saved in my gut, they don't draw interest, and you don't want them back. Other than that it's just like it.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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