Alternate title – In Which I Vent My Spleen For A Few Hundred Words

There are a few things rumbling around in my brainpan, and I need to get them out.  So, here we go….

The situation at the border, mainly the part that has thousands of children walking across the Sonoran desert and worse, sickens me.  Reports of disease, overcrowding, and deplorable conditions are rampant, and something needs to be done.  First, we need to communicate with the governments of Mexico and Central America that they need to, in no uncertain terms, explain to their populace that it is not worth the dangers of crossing the border to get here.  Next, we need to find out which countries these kids came from, as much as possible, and deposit them at the embassies of their home nation.  Let them figure out how to get them home. If they are let go by their ambassadors, or refused at the gates to the embassy, that entire diplomatic mission needs to be declared persona non grata, shown the nearest port of entry, and have their foreign aid and free trade privileges cut off.   Those that can’t be tracked down to a particular country, either because they’re too young to respond or just refuse to, need to be placed in foster care with the families of citizens.  Not a ‘sponsor’ or whatever you call it when one illegal alien guarantees that they’re going to feed, clothe, and shelter one of them, I mean someone who was either born here or has raised their hand and taken the oath of citizenship.  We can decide their ultimate disposition later.

Right now, however, it’s time for all of us to put up or shut up.  If La Rasa, Nancy Pelosi, and Hillary Clinton think those children need to stay, it’s time they chipped in for their care and feeding. The same goes for those who want the border turned into a DMZ and illegal aliens deported with a quickness.  We need to be doing everything we can to make sure that these kids get proper medical care, decent clothing, and a clean, safe place to sleep.  If Michelle Obama is so worried about the food that we give to our kids in school, then she ought to be leaping at the chance to make sure that these foundlings are getting proper nutrition.  I’ll make you all a deal:  The first politician that is discovered quietly working behind the scenes to make this happen or is caught actually working a food line, doing laundry, or pushing a mop gets my vote.  Photo-ops don’t count.  I want to see some callouses, dishpan hands, and tired expressions.

Some call this President Obama’s Hurricane Katrina moment.  I disagree.  President Bush didn’t invite Hurricane Katrina to hit the Gulf Coast.  He didn’t actively discourage CBS news from choppering film crews into New Orleans, and he certainly didn’t try to keep members of Congress from touring the flooded parishes.

Next, we have the Supreme Court decision in the Hobby Lobby Obamacare case.  Basically, five justices decided that if a company, which is owned by a very small number of people, has a moral quandary against providing insurance for a subset of birth-control methods, then they don’t have to do so.  The justices left open a way for the government to provide that insurance through some mechanism, and of course, if you want it and it’s legal, you’re still quite free to go pay for it out of pocket.  Within minutes of the decision, I was being told how this will let employers dictate what a woman can do with her own body, and we will see whackjobs telling their employees they can’t have abortions, get in-vitro fertilization, have their kids vaccinated, or eat diets with pork in them (Yes, I heard each and every one of those, either in person, on the radio, or via the Internet.)

Of course, the law of unintended consequences still reigns, so I expect this to be used and abused just like every other law, regulation, and Supreme Court decision.  I fully expect years, if not decades, of litigation where people try to stretch the definition of “closely held” and “moral and religious objection”.  I completely understand the slippery slope argument here, but you know what?  If your employer starts throwing stupid crap like this at you, you are all free to find a different employer.  The real way to get rid of this kind of thing is to amend or get rid of Obamacare.  Bad laws lead to bad regulations, which in turn lead to bad Supreme Court decisions.

Of course, I must ask what the employees of companies like Hobby Lobby think of this.  Nobody seems to be interviewing them, and they are the ones that are most impacted.

For those who have taken to the airwaves and such to decry this attack on women, I say put up or shut up.  I’m sure that Planned Parenthood would be more than happy to establish a fund to provide these services to anyone impacted by the decision, and your donations can fill it to the very brim with money.

And now, to sports.  The Washington Redskins are back in the news, and it’s not for how horribly they’re coached.  It seems that the name of the team is offensive to Native Americans.  Well, pat me dry and call me “Dusty”, the name “Redskins” is offensive!  Who knew?  Here’s the deal, though, folks:  The owner of the Redskins is enough of a son-of-a-bitch to tell the rest of us to piss up a rope so long as people are willing to buy the merchandise, the tickets, and the rights to broadcast the games.  Having the government take away the trademark, which will be tied up in court for years, is the wrong way to go.  The Redskins have lawyers stacked up like cord wood, and they’ve got all the time in the world to fight that.  If you want to get the name of the team changed, you have to cut away the customer base.  I suggest taking a page from the anti-fur crowd from the 1980’s and 1990’s.  Shame those who wear Redskins gear.  Refuse to go to football parties if their games are being played.  Let advertisers and the NFL know that you won’t be watching their commercials if the Redskins are playing.  When the money dries up, minds will be changed.

But, truth be told, I don’t care.  I just want someone to define just how far we’re going to go down the “I’m offended” trail when it comes to sports teams.  Should my drops of Irish blood be boiling over Notre Dame?   The University of North Dakota gave up the “Fighting Sioux” because apparently there are two groups of Lakota in the area, and only one of them admitted it’s not a big deal. Should the fans of the Seminoles, Illini, and Indians all be buying tee shirts and ball caps while they can?

If you’re wondering what Vietnam looked like in 1975, I’m guessing all you have to do is turn on al Jazeera and watch for about 20 minutes.  If you’re wondering what Afghanistan will look like in two years, I suggest you do the same.  I only have a few things to say here.   First, Iraq is not our fight.  The only sort-of allies we have in the region are Israel and the Kurds.  Everyone else has been making the stupid American pay for everything and do the bleeding for the better part of a decade.  Screw ’em.

We need to give up on the unified Iraq strategy, tell Turkey to go pound sand, and recognize Kurdistan as a separate country if they so desire.  If we have to have troops in the region, base them out of the Kurdish area, where at least we don’t have to worry that every third guy on the street is looking to get his jihad on.  Tell the Iranians and Saudis that we give less than a shit about the rest of the country, and let them fight it out.

That being said, if the President sends a few hundred ground combatants to secure the embassy and such, we need to make note of it and leave it alone.  We can’t roast him over a slow fire over the Benghazi attack and then attack him for securing the Green Zone.

Speaking of Israel, it appears that the bleeding pustule that is the Gaza Strip has ruptured again.  Hamas is shooting at Israeli civilians, Israel is shooting at Hamas civilians, and both sides are playing an international game of “He started it!”.  Both sides need to knock it the hell off.  I’ve come to like the two state solution, in which those who call themselves “Palestinians” declare a state, and get with that all of the responsibilities of being their own country.  Then, when some jackass decides to make it rain steel in Beersheba, Israel will be fully justified in stomping a mudhole in their ass.  Better yet, we will get to watch Fatah and Hamas play king of the mountain, which will make for the best thing on TV since the Thrilla in Manila.

Anyway, thanks for putting up with my rant.  I needed to get those things out of my noggin so that I can concentrate on something else that needs my attention.  Feel free to tell me how I’m wrong in comments.

I realized this morning how different from my father I am.

You see, my father was more of a houseguest than family.  Take Sunday mornings, for example.  He would sleep until the smell of breakfast woke him, then stumble to the kitchen table.  A hot cup of Folger’s would magically appear in front of him, as well as the paper and an ashtray.  After drinking his first pot of coffee, smoking a few cigarettes, and reading the paper in complete silence, he would move to the living room, where he would manage to find a sports program on one of the three channels we had at the time.  The rest of Sunday would be spent watching football, baseball, basketball, hockey, bowling, skiing, steeplechase, spitting for distance, arm wrestling, or whatever else Howard Cosell had to show him.  Copious amounts of coffee would be consumed, as well as his lunch and dinner.  The only interaction we seemed to have was when we were told to change the channel, get him more coffee, or empty the ashtray.  If it was winter, he would spend the day in his thermal underwear.  If it was summer, it was tighty whities and tee shirts.

Let’s contrast this with my morning so far.  Moonshine woke me up at about 7.  He was hungry and desperately needed to visit the long grass at the back of the dog yard.  After taking him and Bluegrass out and feeding and watering all of the critters, I came in and made breakfast.  Girlie Bear is at a sleepover, so she gets doughnuts or whatever it is teenage girls eat when a gang of them first wake up.  By the way, hot dog buns make great french toast sticks.  While engaged in cooking, I put on a pot of coffee.

Boo got up, was served his breakfast of french toast sticks, applesauce, and milk, and proceeded to turn his nose up at it.  Apparently I don’t make it like mama does or something.  I made my own breakfast, fed Irish Woman, and tried to settle in with my cup of coffee to read the digital newspaper.  First distraction was getting up to find the headset that Boo wears when he’s doing his morning therapy exercises.  Once that was found, I returned to my sort-of hot cup of coffee.  Next, I was asked to get up and try to find the bag of plastic baseballs Irish Woman bought for Boo to play with.  After searching the house, I found them in the trunk of her car.

I now sit in my living room, trying to finish a luke-warm cup of coffee and get my head together for what I have to do today.  If I’m luck, I’ll get a second cup of coffee that’s not in a to-go cup before I have to start driving around Louisville on various errands.

By now, given the same circumstances, my father would have thrown a temper tantrum and burned the house to the ground.   I think I prefer my life to his.

• If you’re putting a Desert Eagle in the hands of a brand new shooter, you’re doing it wrong.
  • What is it about a Deagle that makes people forget range etiquette and the Four Rules?  I swear, every time I go to the range and someone has one of them, I get muzzled along with everyone else on the firing line.
• Being the first shooter on a stage where the no-shoots are mostly behind the targets you’re supposed to shoot means you’re going to take a penalty.
• While driving to Knob Creek this afternoon, Girlie Bear asked why there were so many strip clubs on Dixie Highway.  I had no good answer to that.
• If you’re looking for a great hamburger in a neat little cafe, Christie’s is a hidden treasure.
• Watching an older gentlemen clear out the X ring of a target 150 yards away with a 10/22 reminds me that I need to get to the range more often.
• At a birthday party today, Boo made 20 consecutive trips up and down a two-story, inflatable water slide.  Needless to say, he wasn’t very animated for the rest of the evening.
• Irish Woman is making a new jam that seems to consist mostly of fresh pineapple, coconut rum, and lime juice.
• Speaking of which, I can’t wait to see the coupons we get from the grocery store after their computer systems analyze a trip that consisted of a fifth of coconut rum, a can of cream of coconut, shaved coconut, six pineapples, ten pounds of bananas, two loaves of bread, and two pounds of butter.