Kuhb00m's Blog

Not Dead Yet

kuhb00m — Sun, 20 Nov 2011 22:59:36 +0000

Fellow patriots of our quickly diminishing Nation:

Rumors pertaining to the demise of this blog have been greatly exaggerated (mostly by me). It’s not dead yet- neither am I. So, hopefully, the hiatus will be over soon and some new stuff will appear here in the new future.

Prelude to the Declaration

kuhb00m — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 04:08:16 +0000

Fellow patriots of this once-great Nation:

Nearly a year has passed since I first started delivering messages to you in this format. Much has changed in the past year and I documented many different events and opinions pertaining to my life and perceptions of the trials, tribulations, and triumphs therein.
However, as you may or may not have noticed, I have posted fewer messages in the recent months. Several lesser reasons are partly to blame; the summer months are always filled with yard work, car repairs, and the handful of vacations and mini vacations that we take while the air is warm and the snow is far away. Yet, a greater motive for my lack of posts I must still acknowledge and I hope you bear with me throughout this convoluted explanation. [For the crux of this message, please skip to the final paragraph- especially if you are in a hurry.]
I have never enjoyed the type of readership I desire. If ten people read a post, it is a miracle. Often I wonder if my writing is worth the effort. In spite of this, let me be clear: I appreciate all of the warm receptions that I have received both online and in person. I know that God has given me at least a decent ability to write, and I enjoy bringing an idea to the table that others may have not previously considered. Still, something has bothered me- enough to pull me from making regular entries in my blog. I can only explain it as a feeling; a feeling that something was out of place. Words that once flowed freely had become dead and withered. I felt like I was standing *here* when I should have been standing *there*.
For a long time, actually throughout this summer, I ruminated on the notion of misplaced identity. In the back of my mind, I intended to use my blog as a vehicle for stories and to roll out a series of short fiction projects once the days grew cold. However, until last weekend I’ve had no serious plans to do anything with pen, paper, or keyboard.
An event at the Iowa State Fair, a racially charged brawl, brought the first wave of new ideas, and a short trip to our nation’s capital the following weekend cemented those ideas. In my next post, which will follow this one (hopefully) in short succession, I will define those ideas and ask you to act on them. I pray that, if you’ve read this far, you will continue to read and consider what I will propose. In the following post, I will leave the rhetoric, political theatrics, and verbosity behind, and I will speak from as close to my heart as I possibly can. I pray that the message is clear and that God will be blessed by what I am about to do.

In Memoriam

kuhb00m — Sat, 29 May 2010 03:10:56 +0000

I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it when I sorrow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

Fellow Patriots of this once-great Nation:

Anyone who has lost someone they care about certainly agrees with Tennyson that the sorrow of their passing is less significant than the time shared with a loved one. This also holds true for those Americans who have gone before us, giving of their lives in order to preserve the freedoms we still hold dear. Had they not given the ultimate sacrifice, our nation would have folded into the evil hand of tyranny long ago.
I’m not the type of person who likes to celebrate death. I don’t particularly want to visit any grave-sites and place flowers on tombstones. Instead, I would rather spend time, the most precious commodity God has given us, with the people I love who are alive and remain.
I imagine that you will do something similar to myself- enjoy a long weekend of warm spring sunshine with your family and friends. However, spend a few minutes thinking about those who have given their lives to protect these United States, and pray for those who remain in harm’s way both at home and abroad. And if you happen to cross paths with a veteran, remember to thank them for their service. Honor them by making sure they know we will NEVER forget!

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit

kuhb00m — Fri, 16 Apr 2010 03:00:34 +0000

Fellow Patriots of this once-great Nation:

Today is tax day- a day that elicits many negative emotions, especially in those of us who compensate the federal government so that others who have not contributed will receive a refund on the taxes they have not paid. This is the modern-day interpretation of FAIRNESS.
How does this practice benefit our nation? Is America a better place when we punish the achievers and reward the under-achievers? It is easy to become angry with the rich because of their wealth until we realize that nearly all of us work for someone wealthier than ourselves. If we continue to demand that the rich pay for the poor, why would they, or anyone aspire to be wealthy?
What happens when more than 50% of our nation stops paying income tax (we are currently at 47%)? When the tax burden goes above that threshold, the majority recipients will continue to vote in the representatives who distribute their welfare. (Meaning, once this happens- a minority of Americans cover the tax burden- it will be nearly impossible to reduce that tax burden. This, of course, will remove the incentive to achieve, especially for those who are just above the threshold, resulting in the removal of what we used to call American Exceptionalism.)
Before I break out the Laffer curve or the law of diminishing returns (Don’t worry, I’ll save those exciting topics for another post), let’s return to the present: tax day.
I’m sure that many people think that all Constitutional Conservatives, Tea Partiers, and Classical Liberals deny the validity of the IRS and thus call for all citizens to renounce their income tax burden and evade their “debt.” I cannot speak for everyone, however, I can give you the best advice available, directly from Mark 12:17; “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s”
As much as it pains me to write the following words, my convictions demand it: we must pay our taxes, regardless of how unfair the system may be. You see, it is much easier to argue our position from higher ground. We control Caesar; if his taxes are unacceptable, we can replace him (or, in this instance, “them”) with a leader (or system like a flat tax) that understands the harm of a redistributive income tax structure. By breaking the law through tax evasion, we become as unconstitutional as those we oppose.
On this April 15, I am going to perform two simple steps. I will pay my taxes and file my return. Then I will pray. I will pray for our nation, that we will elect leaders who understand that we cannot tax and spend ourselves into prosperity. I will also pray for you, that your tax burden will not overwhelm you and you will continue to pursue the American Dream

“It’s About Time”

kuhb00m — Sat, 03 Apr 2010 02:05:31 +0000

At 6:15 every Friday Morning Joey wakes up. He eats two bowls of Frosted Mini Wheats with 1% milk while watching the morning news on channel 9. He showers, and then listens to the Brew Crew give the traffic report on 93.7fm while drinking a cup of coffee. Joey walks out of apartment 605, building #4 of the Overland Apartments at 7:08, and walks down the steps and out the front door. Joey arrives at the bus stop three minutes before the 7:15 bus. Joey stands next to Lindsey every Friday morning. Joey knows Lindsey works at the Sharp Plaza, ten stops before his, on the M route. Joey says hello to Lindsey every morning. What Joey doesn’t know is that Lindsey’s confused about her life.
Lindsey stands next to Joey every Friday morning, but could not recognize him in a lineup. Lindsey rides the bus as her heart debates her mind. Lindsey is married to a man who loves her and honors her and tries to make her happy. But Lindsey is bored and tired of his doting. Lindsey wishes he would devote more energy to his career so she wouldn’t have to work seventy hours a week to afford a house, a car she can’t drive, and two giant smelly Labs.
The bus arrives at Sharp Plaza and, at 8:21, Lindsey looks at her heart’s escape, Kevin, on the sidewalk waiting for Lindsey to exit the back door. Lindsey walks into the Sharp Plaza every Friday morning with Kevin. Kevin is ten years younger than Lindsey; he works two floors below her in the accounting department. Lindsey knows about Kevin’s divorce, his houseboat, and his ambition to move from accounting to marketing, two floors above Lindsey. Lindsey knows Kevin would fill her soul and stimulate her mind. What Lindsey doesn’t know is why Kevin’s wife left. Lindsey has not seen the bruises, heard the screams, or lived the terror of Kevin’s wrath.
Kevin looks at Lindsey next to him on the elevator. Lindsey reminds Kevin of his ex-wife, scared and timid, pretty but not stunning. Kevin knows that if he gets desperate he will use Lindsey for a fun weekend on the boat.
Kevin leaves Lindsey on the elevator and walks to his cubicle in the middle of the 8th floor. Kevin starts his computer and begins making calls to past due clients. Kevin makes payment arrangements while building an internet advertising proposal. Kevin’s relationship with the marketing VP’s secretary has provided an inside line to his upward mobility.
Kevin looks over to his Sony clock radio; it reads 9:44. Kevin leaves his desk and walks to the break room at the north end of the 8th floor. Kevin opens the door and bumps into Yan, who is looking over his shoulder at a co-worker who dropped her change. Kevin knows Yan from department meetings. He knows Yan works on the south end of the 8th floor. Kevin finds Yan to be a bit shifty and odd, but otherwise a nice guy. Kevin doesn’t know about the contents of Yan’s trash, the discarded remains of Yan’s lust.
Yan’s hard drive is overflowing with pornography. Yan has convinced himself that he can clear his browser’s crumbs with the push of a button. Yan’s corner cubicle enables a quick cover up to appear busy. However, Yan’s production is the lowest of the accounting team.
Yan graduated from Western Michigan five years ago. He is twenty-six years old, yet he has never been in a serious relationship. Yan has never even been on a date. Years of objectifying women juxtaposed with nervous rambling has relegated Yan to an intimate and ongoing liaison with his upper extremities.
Yan walks back from the break room to his cubicle on the south end of the 8th floor. Yan opens up his spreadsheet of cost categories and remembers he hasn’t turned in his P&L corrections to Jamal on the 11th floor. Yan hurries the corrections and starts for the stairs, not waiting for the elevator.
Yan knocks on Jamal’s door at 10:33. Yan knows Jamal only from these monthly meetings, yet Yan wishes he could be like Jamal, successful and confident. Yan desires Jamal’s life- a big house, beautiful wife and three kids. What Yan doesn’t know is that Jamal is a racist. Jamal’s mother descended from slave owners and his father descended from slaves. Jamal hates whites, Hispanics, Asians, and even darker skinned blacks. He believes all races are to blame for slavery. Jamal wants a world that is one color, a mixed race to end all races.
Jamal opens the door and Yan walks in. Jamal thinks Yan is a slant-eyed loser but he masks this because Jamal is an intelligent man. Jamal knows the white executives on the 17th floor are looking for a reason to remove him. But Yan is late with his report and Jamal takes advantage by threatening Yan’s job then dismissing him as a parasite of the accounting department.
Jamal returns to his pitch for the white executives- a restructure of the accounting department that will save the company $200,000 annually. Jamal knows the plan will not elicit a move to the executive floor, but it may lead to a sizeable raise, which would make Jamal’s wife happy. Jamal’s wife is still young and beautiful, while Jamal is aging and balding. Jamal knows that he has to provide enough incentive for her to stay with him.
Jamal’s watch beeps twelve times. The watch is seven minutes fast; the time it takes Jamal to walk eleven flights of stairs, go out the side door, and arrive at the Plaza Diner precisely at noon.
Jamal takes a booth near the back wall, as he does every Friday, and waits for Lois to bring him a Diet Coke and a bowl of potato soup. Jamal almost likes Lois, even though she’s white. Lois doesn’t take lip, her food is good, and she lets Jamal eat in peace. What Jamal doesn’t know is that Lois has uncontrollable rage when her blood runs low on nicotine.
Lois takes cigarette breaks every thirty minutes, throughout her shift. Lois has been at the Plaza Diner long enough for the customers to think she owns the place. The employees don’t question Lois or her breaks. They know what happens when Lois misses a break- dishes crash, bottles smash, and waitresses are called the most vile names.
Three days ago, when she was on her way home, Lois was driving fast because someone had stolen her reserve packs and her nicotine fix was an hour overdue. A young girl cut Lois off. Lois accelerated and pushed the front of her rusty Cutlass into the rear left side of the girl’s Jetta. The girl used her fear and inexperience to overcorrect the bump and spin, sliding off the road and into a concrete pillar. Lois slowed down because the Smoke Shop was at the next corner and she wanted to calm her rage for the remainder of the drive.
Lois is ready for the lunch hour to end. She cleans up Jamal’s table and collects his lousy fifty-cent tip, grabs the fry order off the counter and delivers it to Leonard at ten minutes before one. Lois enjoys Leonard. He’s always friendly and funny. Leonard talks so fast Lois sometimes gets tangled in the tales of cats and dogs, stuffy executives, and hot women. What Lois doesn’t know is that Leonard is a thief.
Leonard doesn’t consider himself a kleptomaniac because he has no impulse to steal. Leonard steals because it is fun. Leonard believes he is a modern day artist, destined to create scenes for his own personal amusement. Leonard has not yet stolen anything of great value, just office supplies, sack lunches from the mailroom cooler, and an occasional entrée from the Diner. Leonard’s favorite ruse is to discreetly pick up money someone else has left for their meal and place it under his plate. Lois bans the other customer and Leonard gets a free meal. This Friday Leonard decides to leave all ten dollars for Lois. He walks out of the Diner enamored with his generous tip, courtesy of another Joe Loser.
Leonard wonders, as he walks back to the mailroom, if he will ever grow up, cut his hair, and try to be a little more than a thirty-something mail clerk. Leonard is sure his mother would love that, but Leonard isn’t in the business of mother pleasing.
Leonard loads a cart, stuffs an envelope into his pocket, and wheels for the elevator. While waiting for the elevator, Miranda walks up to him. She asks Leonard for the time. Leonard, in his most stunning British accent, tells Miranda that it is three minutes before two, nearly time for a spot of tea.
Leonard first met Miranda fifteen days ago in the sorting room. He thinks Miranda is more qualified and dignified than a typical mailroom clerk. Miranda is articulate, wears clothes that mailroom wages can’t afford, and never complains about work. What Leonard doesn’t know is that Miranda hides burn scars with long sleeves and knife scars with long pants. The scars on her heart are visible through her brown eyes, but Miranda looks down enough to avoid that intrusion.
Miranda is 2500 miles away from the evil that disfigured her. Her name is not really Miranda. But she is becoming Miranda- an Indian from the South can look like a Mexican to the North.
Miranda carries her mailbag off the elevator and down the main hall of the 17th floor. Miranda quickly finds out that she should have delivered the mail to this floor first instead of last. Miranda endures the dirty looks of executives as she places the mail on each desk. She is nearly to the end of the hall when she hears a high-pitched voice yell for his mail. Douglas tells all the open doors of the 17th floor that it is 2:06 and the mail should be here by 10am because they are important, busy people.
Miranda has never met Douglas; this is Miranda’s first trip to the 17th floor, and her first day delivering mail. What Miranda doesn’t know is that Douglas is a repulsive man. His attitude is in harmony with his personal hygiene. Douglas eats the nose goblins off his fingers, indifferent to the presence of others. Douglas has a fungus on his hands; there are pieces of skin filling the spaces between the letters on his keyboard. Douglas doesn’t bother to wash his hands after using the restroom and he is constantly adjusting himself.
Douglas affords Miranda the same care as he would an ant on the sidewalk. But Miranda is not the only person or problem ignored by Douglas.
Douglas is the VP of the software development department. His projects always manage to end up late and over budget. Douglas just asks for more money and more time. Douglas has utilized the good fortune of having ideas that helped other parts of the company. These ideas have saved Douglas from termination. But the ideas are not his. Douglas collects ideas from weekly brainstorm emails that the employees in his division send to him. Douglas just “borrows” the ideas and “forgets” to give credit to anyone except himself.
Douglas has a meeting with a loan officer this afternoon, so he leaves his office at 3:41 and meets his secretary, Shannon, at the elevator. Shannon has agreed to drive Douglas to the bank. Douglas has told Shannon that his Bentley is in the shop and his wife has the other car.
Douglas’s Bentley was repossessed last week.
Douglas and Shannon ride the elevator in silence. Douglas hired Shannon ten years ago. He pays little attention to Shannon because she does her job and stays out of his way. Douglas thinks Shannon is divorced now, but he can’t remember. What Douglas doesn’t know is that Shannon is dying.
Shannon left her husband nine months ago after finding him with the next-door neighbor’s nanny. After the excuses and tears, but just before Shannon walked out, her husband admitted that this had happened before, more than a few times. He told Shannon that she was not enough; he needed new adventures.
Three months later, he sent Shannon an email that said he had contracted Aids from one of his adventures and she might want to be tested.
Shannon has not told anyone about her illness. She doesn’t know where to begin. Shannon has only slept with one man, yet her reward is a death sentence.
Shannon drives Douglas to the front of the American Federal Bank on the corner of Crocker and 30th Street. Shannon decides to skip going home and turns on 30th Street in the direction of her mother’s house. Shannon stops at the red light on 30th and Vine. She looks left and watches a young woman run across the street, stop and look at the clock, which is pointing to the bottom of the five o’clock hour, on the steeple of the Vine Avenue Presbyterian Church. The young woman looks as untroubled as a litter of puppies on a sunny day. Shannon wonders where the woman lives and what fills her life to such visible contentment. What Shannon doesn’t know is that this is Isabelle.
Isabelle is a first year teacher at Christ the King Elementary School. Isabelle’s family has enough money for her to do anything or nothing, yet she teaches fifth grade and lives in an apartment on 30th street to confirm to herself and her family that she is independent and capable. Isabelle runs several days a week because running takes her to youthful memories of the playground.
Isabelle dreams when she runs. She dreams of meeting the perfect man. She dreams of having a big house and six children. She dreams of building a school in a poor neighborhood that fills the entire district with potential.
Isabelle finishes her run in Overland #4 by racing up the stairs to her apartment, #607. She waves to Joey as he enters his apartment on the other side of the hall. Isabelle knows Joey is around thirty, lives alone, and leaves for work every day around 7am. Joey rarely speaks but Isabelle feels his stare when they are in the laundry room together. If Isabelle did not always look at people positively she would be a little perturbed by Joey. But Isabelle just considers Joey quiet and lonely. What Isabelle doesn’t know is that Joey is planning to kill her in twelve hours.
At 6:15, Joey acknowledges Isabelle and shuts the door. Joey’s plan ends tomorrow. Joey knows Isabelle’s schedule better than her day planner. He has followed Isabelle for six months, memorized her habits, and discovered the perfect time and place to end her life. Isabelle will get up at 5am. She will drive out to the Greene Valley Trail, and run ten miles at first light. Joey will wait in the woods that line the trail.
He was there last week, not five yards from the trail, unseen in the forest as Isabelle ran past. Tomorrow, Joey will be in the same spot, with chloroform, rope, and a shovel. He dug Isabelle’s grave three nights ago and covered it with brush and leaves. Joey has already cleaned out his apartment and purchased an airline ticket to Los Angeles. His new identity is ready; all traces of his life at apartment 605 in Overland #4 will vanish tonight.
What Joey doesn’t know is that I can look into the hearts of the frail, weak, and broken. My inner vision can examine evil, fractured souls. I have been given this revelation for a reason and now I have to defeat this broken chromosome, if only for one night and one day.
I look at my hands, shriveled stumps and gnarled ends, willing them to cooperate with my brain. I open my mouth- a test to speak from my mind.
“Help.”
Inside, I hear the word, but to my ears, it is an idiot’s grunt. I shuffle over to the craft table for crayons and paper to write something, anything, to let them know that I have a special gift. I close my eyes to write from within, desperate to ignore the drool that drips from my tongue.
“Oh, what a lovely drawing. Is that a sailboat in the ocean?”
I look down at the mess of swirls and dots.
I don’t know what else to do… time is running out. Wait a minute.
Time. The clock on the wall. I move to the clock and motion with a curled fist to the five while saying,”five, five five.” Die, die, die, is what they hear.
I point too far and my arm breaks through the glass of the clock.
One of them radios for restraints.
I take the paper, still clutched in my other hand and show them what Joey is going to do to Isabelle. I get behind another idiot and try to hold the paper over his face like a chloroform soaked cloth, while I shout, “Joey kills, Joey kills.”
A tormented, addled shriek is all that escapes.
They hold me down and prick my arm. I begin to see Joey’s face again, just his face, framed in black. I stare through his eyes, directly into the evil.
I will try again. I WILL stop you. It’s about time.

Healthcare, Racism and the Truth- Round 2

kuhb00m — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 01:24:46 +0000

Fellow Patriots of this once-great Nation:
Here we go again. How much money did our government waste on Thursday’s seven-hour marathon of posturing? Of course, the highlight of the “summit” was Iowa’s very own Tom Harkin’s comparing America’s health care to segregation. Here is our senator at his best during Thursday’s “summit:”
“We aren’t going to allow segregation today on the basis of health. Why should we allow that to happen? It’s time to stop segregating people on the basis of their health?”
What an absolute fool! Segregation equals denial of service, seclusion, and exclusion. Mr. Harkin, that was not a mere comparison, it was a filthy, disgusting lie. EVERYONE in America already receives health care (which is a giant factor in rising costs). Remember, this is the same guy that pushed for a “national 45” speed limit to control, I mean, save the environment. He doesn’t care about the $1,000,000,000,000 startup cost of their “plan.” Harkin will not stop until the government has complete control of every aspect of our lives.
Please, please- will someone please show me that part of the constitution that declares the right to government sponsored health care?
Perhaps there are more fools in the room than Comrade Harkin. Do you remember a time when Harkin wasn’t in congress?
I don’t, because Harkin has been in Congress longer than I have been alive. He was first elected to the house in 1974.
1974!!!!
Iowans have re-elected Harkin four times to the house and four times to the senate.
Harkin is the definition of an out of touch, career politician, and Iowans continue to pull the lever for him. What fools we are indeed!

Here’s a little reminder of Harkin’s small-town values:
He’s in favor of the fairness doctrine, amnesty, abortion on demand, socialized healthcare, socialized energy, and radical gun control. Harkin will vote for any bill that increases taxes, spending, or the government’s power. The man has no understanding of the concept of “limited government.” Yet we just keep sending him back to Washington so he can suck a little more life out of the Constitution. How many more trillion-dollar bills will congress pass before it finally breaks the back of America? Is this what Harkin and other progressives want?
Don’t you people get it? The money IS NOT THERE. America is in trouble! We need less spending to get out of this hole, not more!

Unfortunately, we’re stuck with Harkin until 2014. Forty years in congress- don’t you think it’s time to vote him out???

Passing Judgment

kuhb00m — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 03:56:29 +0000

I was driving home from work today at 4pm. The roads inside Altoona were mostly clear, but outside of town, they were solid ice with blowing snow. It was clear that the curve south of Altoona was completely iced over and, of course, some fool had already driven through the curve too fast and planted his car in the snow. I approached the curve with caution and drove right through without any trouble. As I drove by the car, I saw two people inside trying to wave me over. Now, you have to understand, they weren’t outside the car, they didn’t even roll down the window. So, I didn’t see them until I went by.
But I didn’t even think about stopping… and here’s why.
1. It was OBVIOUS that the curve was icy because the road was icy for better than half a mile before and after the curve. It doesn’t take a PhD, or even a high school education to know that a rear-wheel drive vehicle will spin out on ice.
2. I have four-wheel drive vehicles because I want every advantage I can get in the winter, especially now that “global warming” has made it snow EVERY OTHER DAY. I *don’t* own a four-wheel drive so that I can pull people out of ditches because they were driving too fast.
3. Stopping in the middle of a dangerous situation during heavy traffic is always a bad idea.
4. It’s FEBRUARY and we’ve had lots of snow (see #2). This late in the season, there is no excuse for planting your car in the ditch, short of avoiding another wild driver. Why do some people act like every snowstorm is the first one ever? I can imagine them on their cell phones just before driving into the ditch: “I’m going to, like, drive faster than everyone else because they’re just being chicken- it’s just a little snow and… oh (insert appropriate swear word here), I just drove in the ditch. Hey, I’ll just wave down this SUV and make him help me because, like, the world owes me and stuff.”
5. This car wasn’t in a remote location- they were less than 300 feet from the nearest house.
6. EVERYONE has a cell phone.

After piecing all the evidence together, it appears to me that, if I had stopped, they likely would have expected me to pull them out of the ditch; or at least driven them back into Altoona. I don’t mind being the “good Samaritan,” but it didn’t appear that this was a desperate situation.

Okay- now it’s your turn. Am I a jerk for passing judgment, based on five seconds of visual evidence? Should a person always offer help? Is it wrong to leave someone on the side of the road when you know that qualified help will soon arrive?

New Members of the Thought Police

kuhb00m — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 03:09:24 +0000

I really can’t stand Rahm Emanuel. He is a radical leftist, part of the Chicago political machine, and has orchestrated, or at least been complicit to, the socialist infestation of the presdient’s inner circle. However, I just hate seeing Sarah Palin, someone I happen to agree with most of the time, make such a ridiculous reply to Emanuel’s crude remarks (see link below- Palin called for Obama to fire Emanuel). I don’t remember Palin criticizing Ann Coulter when Coulter used the “f” word (for gay) in a joke about John Edwards.
Why is the first response always, ‘fire them now!’ Do we really have to be that sensitive?

I personally don’t care if Rahm Emanuel calls people retards or can’t finish a sentence without at least one mf’er. What matters is his radical policies that threaten our Republic.
Don’t get caught up in the war of words; you’ll lose sight of the real threat…big government!

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ynews/ynews_pl1101

A “State of the Union” we wanted to hear

kuhb00m — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 03:04:22 +0000

Fellow Patriots of this once-great Nation:

You have spoken and I am listening to you. I have seen the number of disenfranchised Americans grow from a few protesters last spring to hundreds of thousands by the end of last summer. In the previous months, each piece of legislation I endorsed advanced in congress, and you voiced your displeasure by electing those who opposed my reforms in Virginia, New Jersey, and Massachusetts.

Like many of you, I am disappointed in the direction of our country; our economy is weak, jobs are scarce, and the feeling that America has fallen behind is affecting us all. I am still confident that my original goals of a stronger central government will create a better America. However, I am here to serve you, I am your president. Therefore, I will spend the remainder of my term in office doing something that the previous administration refused to do- giving the power back to you.

A vast majority of Americans disagree with the healthcare reforms I proposed, but we can all agree that *something* needs to be done because the system is broken. Instead of increasing the government’s presence in the healthcare industry, I propose that the government retreats from healthcare, thus allowing competition from the private sector to drive down costs. If Congress approves my plan, Americans will be able to purchase insurance from any provider in any state. This will also apply to the pharmaceutical industry. In addition, I will ask Congress to place caps on tort claims, which will lower costs for our doctors, resulting in cheaper services.

I have also realized that Americans believe the government has become intrusively large. I propose that we pay back unused stimulus funds, eliminate all new spending initiatives, and balance the budget by removing the safety net from private industry. Your government will never use the statement, “too big to fail,” again. In order to fulfill my promise of transparency I want *every* debate on C-SPAN, and all earmarks removed from every bill. Any bill that an average American cannot understand is too convoluted to be of use to its people.

I also realize that the wounds of September 11, 2001 are still quite deep. I have consulted with my Secretary of Defense, Robert Gates, and have concluded that all individuals involved in terror activities will be tried by military tribunal. As we all know from the recent terror attacks in Detroit and at Fort Hood, America has enemies who want to destroy us. Many of these enemies come from the same countries that fulfill our nation’s oil demands. I still want to move toward alternative energy sources, but I know our need for energy independence is more important than our desire for clean energy. It is time for us to remove the restrictions that bind oil exploration and nuclear energy expansion. In addition, we need to utilize our ample natural gas and coal reserves. By integrating the use of natural gas and coal oil in our transportation demands, we can greatly reduce or eliminate the need for foreign oil, as well as create thousands of new jobs for Americans.

It is no secret that our nation’s economy has struggled in recent months. Unemployment is too high and the recovery has been too slow. Despite my administration’s attempts to demonstrate that the process we’ve implemented has saved thousands of jobs, the sobering truth is that we have lost four million jobs over the last year. The success of jobs saved is completely overshadowed by the net loss of jobs. To help stimulate growth, I recommend that we lower self-employment taxes and provide an abatement period for entrepreneurs that create new jobs.

We will not fund this, or any other tax break, through borrowing from foreign nations, or printing more money. It is time we consider the nation that we are leaving for our children and grandchildren, and work toward more than just a balanced budget, but a debt-free America.

America, the time has come for you to roll up your sleeves and get to work on rebuilding the integrity of our nation. The time has also come for the American government to get out of the way of its people. To my progressive friends, you may not like the idea of limited government, but it is necessary for our success. And to my conservative friends, I may not believe in your politics, but I believe in you. Together, we will transform America back to her fundamentals.

Goodnight, and may God bless America.

Harry, Haiti, Hate, and the Heart

kuhb00m — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 01:45:11 +0000

Fellow Patriots of this once-great Nation:

We live in a world of double standards- one family member works while another lives off others, ten people speed by an officer and only one gets a ticket, good things happen to bad people. Everyone should agree that liberals tend to receive a pass when they make a bigoted statement because our society is constantly told that “progressives” are sensitive to the “unfortunate class.” Conservatives are labeled bigots because they believe that “we the people” should pick winners and losers instead of entitlement programs funded by the “evil rich.”
I contend that the enslavement of a race by allowing covert access to the United States in return for substandard wages and the oppression of another race through an aggressive entitlement program that keeps the ghettos full of ignorant people is a more dangerous form of racism than any man using any racial slur.

On Christmas, an Islamic radical tried to blow up a jet full of people over the city of Detroit. Had the bomb exploded, over three hundred people would have died. What if Al-Qaeda plans to send another boxer bomber, only this time they shoot for Minneapolis on Black Friday. The airport is only a few blocks from the Mall of America. A successful explosion could produce a death toll over 10,000.
Yet we avoid profiling because it is “offensive and insensitive.” Does anyone else find DEAD AMERICANS OFFENSIVE???

In the past few days the media has played, ad nauseam, the “insensitive” comments of public figures. Senator Harry Reid said that Barack Obama was successful because he was “light skinned” and talked without a “negro dialect, Pat Robertson claimed that the disaster in Haiti was the result of the Haitians “pact with the devil,” and Jesse Jackson, not that long ago, stated that Obama talks down to black people. Obviously, comments like these are worthy of criticism. However, much like our refusal to profile, the pursuit of cultural sensitivity typically results in overkill for minor offenses.
Several years ago, Trent Lott praised Strom Thurmond’s 1948 presidential campaign during Thurmond’s 100th birthday party. In addition to a strong States-rights platform, Thurmond also supported segregation in that campaign. The fallout from Lott’s words ended his tenure as Senate Majority leader. It is quite a stretch to call Lott a racist because he believed that Thurmond, his friend, would have made a good president.
I have friends who do things I do not agree with- I believe all of us do. However, just because I care about them does not mean I accept everything they say and do. If Lott would have said that he supports segregation, wants to bring back Jim Crow laws, or is calling for a bill to reinstate slavery, then redress and removal would be the appropriate reply (redress by his colleagues, removal by his constituents). However, Lott’s words were harmless at best and misinterpreted at worst. Instead of letting the partisan cries of racism die (which party’s long over-elected member was worse- Robert Byrd of Strom Thurmond?), the GOP booted Lott, in an attempt to pacify the other side. Now, the same thing is happening, but this time the “offender” is a Democrat, and Republicans are crying for Harry Reid’s head. Had the response to Reid and Lott been, “That was a stupid thing to say,” we could then let the voters decide just how offended they were.

People say stupid things. I once said a baby was ugly, not knowing that the mother was right behind me. Should I have been castigated, forever known as a racist-bigot-baby hater?
People seem to forget that Americans have the right to be racists, bigots, and baby haters- as long as their views do not affect the freedoms of other Americans. It is unfortunate that this nation is full of people with thin skin and hard hearts when the inverse would do much to restore us to our former greatness.
Cultural sensitivity is destroying our nation. The refusal to profile puts air travel at risk; sensitivity toward illegal aliens is bankrupting our healthcare now and will soon bankrupt our educational system; and entitlement programs designed to create “fairness” have instead segregated an ever-increasing group to a lifetime of dependency on others.