Move along, nothing to see...

...at least until next Tuesday. A mere twelve hours from now I'll be on the freeway, making my way to the parking service to drop off the car before getting on that plane for Newark....

By remarkable coincidence, I heard the story of the guy infected with some particularly nasty form of TB who took two flights while infected as I was printing out my boarding pass. Really makes me excited about ten hours total cooped up in airplanes, Jim.

So does the weather forecast for Greenwich: Friday 84/62, Saturday and Sunday 81/62, all with a chance of thunderstorms. Perfect weather to be outside while all dressed up. At least if it rains no one will notice how much I'm sweating in the humid air.

Of course I don't have a suitable umbrella. I have two, but both are oversized and have corporate logos on them. I love 'em both, but neither will fit in my bag.

Everything's ready, sort of. I have my camera gear checked out and picked up fresh film today. (Yes, I still use film for "professional" work. I will, however, also have my digi happy-snap along for interesting/fun stuff.)

What's not ready? Me. Even though all the details and schedules are falling together nicely, there are a couple of major question marks that, if the answers aren't the ones I want, could screw up the whole deal.

I remain cautiously optimistic. Very cautiously. At least I'll make enough money to cover expenses and even show a tiny profit.

Au revoir, fellow babies.

Guten tag!

This "tag" stuff plagues journals the same way Nigerian money scams plague email. If it wasn't for Scott and Paula being such fine people, I wouldn't do it.

I mean, this is about listing the five books one has most recently read, and since you haven't actually seen my bookshelves, I could make the whole thing up to disguise my illiteracy....

So anyway, I've been on a bit of a biography kick lately, interspersed with various kinds of novels meant to pull my thoughts away from life's unending flood of sewage.

1. The Private Life of Chairman Mao by Dr Li Zhisui.

Dr Li was Mao's personal physician for the last 20 or so years of his life. Because Dr Li was in near-constant attendance on the Great Helmsman, he had an incredible view of what made Mao tick. Between 1949 and his death in 1976, the Chairman was a screwed-up individual indeed, without conscience, self-absorbed, selfish, conniving, a masterful liar and in some significant ways, not tremendously well-educated. He was also a sexual predator. Except for the latter, his attitudes remind me in remarkable ways of both Bill Clinton and Jorge Bush. It's a fascinating book, to put it mildly.

2. Goldwater by Barry Goldwater and Jack Casserley.

Another fascinating read. Goldwater was more honest than you might expect in telling his life story. He comes across as honest, patriotic and never self-important. It's a damn shame the nation doesn't have any conservatives of his kind today; some of the beliefs he was criticized for in the past he never held, and others he outgrew. A great man, especially when contrasted with the political pygmies of today.

3. The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson.

One of the most remarkable non-fiction works I've read, this book weaves the story of the creation of the 1893 Chicago World's Fair -- a fascinating tale of heroism and tragedy in itself -- with the saga of "Dr" H.H. Holmes, a notorious serial killer who committed many of his crimes in Chicago at the time of the Fair. A strange combination, but it works.

4. W.C, Fields by James Curtis.

Fields was a fascinating man. Stories about his behavior, quotes of his most famous lines and tales of his life are common, but many don't separate fact from fiction. With the help of the Fields family (who gave him access to family papers and sat for interviews), Curtis cuts through the forest of legend and creates a human Fields. Despite the debunking of the occasional myth, the Fields who emerges is funnier, more human and more tragic. The best Fields book yet. Maybe, considering the loss of people who actually remember the great comedian, the best ever.

5. The Deep Blue Goodbye by John D MacDonald.

I must have a dozen of MacDonald's Travis McGee books, and am always on the lookout for more. Each one is masterfully written. McGee is no whipped, jargon-spouting "sensitive" feminist with a bad temper like Robert B Parker's Spenser, but then MacDonald was so much better a writer than Parker that he had no need for psychological clap-trap. If you like adventure and occasional strange but entirely logical and believable plot twists, these are the "thriller" novels to read first.

I have to buy some new books for my Connecticut trip. If there's anything good, I may update the list when I get back.

As for tagging five more peeps, it's just not my thang. You wanna tell me what you're reading, I'll be interested to know.

They never give up...

...but I sure as hell wish they would.

Hillary Clinton told a group of students at a New Hampshire trade school that what this country really needs is a government (led by her very own self, of course) that legislates a society of "shared prosperity." According to her, "...our government can once again work for all Americans. It can promote the great American tradition of opportunity for all and special privileges for none."

Hey, I'm all for that. Especially if Miz Hillary wants to spread around some of the many millions of scoots she and the hubby have amassed during the last six years. Put me down for a couple mill, Hillary.

This is in the grand tradition of such ultra-wealthy do-gooders as Franklin Roosevelt and various Kennedys. Others, like the two Johns, Kerry and Edwards, love to blather about "opportunity for all" as well. Just don't ask them to give up all the loot fate, marriage and various smarmy enterprises have laid on them.

If Hillary's panderings aren't enough, we can always look to the New York Times to lecture us on how throwing open the borders and overlooking the violations of law that have brought 20 million illegal aliens to this country is in the "best American tradition" of equal opportunity for all. In fact, the Senate's amnesty bill doesn't go far enough for the Times, as it doesn't put everyone in the whole damn third world in line for speedy US citizenship.

Or you could read the L.A. Times, which posted a single editorial on Memorial Day. An editorial about how a "Carbon Tax" is the best way to end global warming.

Say what?

Yes, the Times dissed the so-called "carbon offset" scam so loved by Al Gore, Arnold Schwarzenegger and other massive consumers of energy. But they fail to understand -- logic has never been much in evidence on their editorial pages -- is that all taxes do is transfer our money to the government, which can then waste it on ridiculous "projects." Hell, if Congress can't keep its sticky fingers out of Social Security funds, thereby destroying that system, can we reasonably expect them to use "carbon tax" money for any beneficial purpose?

Let's no leave out good ol' Nancy Pelosi, who spent Memorial Day in Greenland (thank you, America, for buying her the trip) where she "saw the climate change." Today, she's in Germany, "monitoring" the EU's pathetic attempts to legislate weather.

If Nancy had been around in the days of the Vikings, she probably would have been calling -- in that disgusting schoolmarm-teaching-slightly-retarded-first-graders tone she uses, just like Hillary -- for the Greenlanders to build thousands of fires to hold back the encroaching ice pack.

Why do you think they named it "Greenland," Nancy?

Then, as always, there's Jorge Bush, the bought-and-paid-for advocate for handing the US over to Mexico. He was shooting off his mouth yet again today, telling an audience "Those determined to find fault with this bill will always be able to look at a narrow slice of it and find something they don't like. If you want to kill the bill, if you don't want to do what's right for America, you can pick one little aspect out of it. You can use it to frighten people, or you can show leadership and solve this problem once and for all."

I would call this pitiful excuse for a president "the stupidest person in America," but he has so much competition.

But let me assure you, Jorge, I want to "do what's right for America." I want to see you and every other corrupt shitweasel in Washington -- including those mentioned above, of course -- hounded out of office and prosecuted for the crimes you, individually and in groups, have committed.

No amnesty for you folks, Jorge.

At the end of a holiday...

...I can report that, by working through the weekend, I've gotten enough writing done that I don't have to do any more for my clients before I leave for Connecticut on Thursday. A good thing, too, as I suspect the list of details I have to take care of will consume all of tomorrow, and there's little doubt some form of excrement will strike the Rotating Ventilation Unit on Wednesday.

So why don't I feel relieved?

When I first thought about putting words here, I was all set to rant. Several things I read/heard about today really cheesed me off and, following the Shit-Rolls-Downhill Rule, they will affect me sooner or later.

And then I got sidetracked.

I shouldn't have thrown my sad Sinatra songs into the CD changer, damnit. Something way inside told me that's where my head is today, and that something was right. But I have to tread very carefully through this field of broken dreams.

Some -- mainly female-type people -- will dispute me on this, but there is a distinct difference between reactions to male and female romantic angst. When a woman is lonely, when she wants to ditch some dude or actually does so, the sympathy for her flows like a river. She clearly deserves better than she's getting, and everyone hopes the next guy that crosses her path is the one. After all, who would dare trample such a sweet flower except some creep that should have the clippers taken to his private parts?

PARENTHETICAL MEA CULPA: I've done this too, extending my sympathy to poor, downtrodden little flowers without regard for reality....

But when a guy gets shat on, it's his fault. She wanted something better, should have had something better, saw that he was a dead loss, and damn! she was right. Maybe his johnson was more cocktail sausage than Foot-Long-Hot-Dog, maybe he didn't have the coin to give her all she was entitled to. Maybe he was weird enough to want to live outside the normal pattern, and was thus unable to sacrifice himself for her dreams. Or maybe he couldn't compete against the Tall, Dark Strangers. In short: you blew it, schmuck, and you deserve to take the fall.

I'm not slanging all women here. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Hell, no one knows better than I how essential they are to a man's complete, satisfying life.

All this is my typical long-winded way of saying that I am not particularly happy with my situation right now. Some of it is entirely my fault, but there is a component of the malaise that I can pin on a select few members of the Opposite Sex. Three of 'em, in fact.

And yet, knowing full well that various female persons -- and a few males who are so wound up in the whole Woman-as-Goddess bag that they have become rancheros without huevos -- would bad-rap me for being explicit, I am once again forced to edit myself even before I spill my guts on this page.

So no revelations here, no names. All you can learn from this is that I am lonely and feeling somewhat victimized by my own stupidity and the manipulation of a couple of women who promised much and departed my life with without hesitation or regret for the carnage they left behind.

Am I making sense here, or is this all incomprehensible jive? I can't trust myself to say such things in face-to-face situations any longer; when I confess feelings and needs directly, I'm ultimately left with nothing but broken promises and memories of what could have been but never will be. Or the you-poor-bastard look from women who know that some other guy has offered them much more than I can, even if he ultimately doesn't deliver.

Whether you can dig it or not, that's why Mr Beam and I are here, listening to Frank lay down the sad songs.

It wasn't supposed to be end up like this.

And it never ends. If the current forecasts hold true, not only will I, blazer-clad, have to stand around outside in humid high-80s weather in Connecticut, but will have to deal with a past dream, desired but no longer desiring me, who is determined to "look me up" while I'm there....

Somehow, I doubt that the tony town of Greenwich has any dives where I can spill my guts to the barkeep at "quarter to three...."

So it's me and Frank, who didn't have it as easy as people think. Sing it, Blue Eyes.

It ain't easy to go on with the act, Jim.

Memorial Day...

...is their day.

It is the day set aside to remember those who have given their lives for our freedom in many wars.

It is not the day for cheesy politicians to score points with phony piety. Nor is it the day for the media to lecture us on What it All Means.

All it means is that the heroes who protected us at ultimate cost to themselves are honored today.

It's that simple.

They did not make exceptions for those who denigrate them, who turn their backs on the soldiers' sacrifice, who manipulate the reasons for -- and circumstances of -- their deeds in a quest for power.

They died for America, for all Americans.

All of us should remember that today, should give thanks for them, wish them eternal peace.

And some of us -- not many, but very visible nonetheless -- should be ashamed for misusing, for dishonoring, their memory.

This is the day to remember and praise our heroes, and nothing else.

Zut alors!

Can it be? Could it be that the French, those cheese-eating surrender monkeys, have more sense than Jorge Bush and the traitors in Washington?

Mais oui, mes amis....

French president Nicolas Sarkozy and Brice Hortefeux, his new Minister of Immigration, have laid down the law. For illegals, it's a big fat "non," according to this story.

"We have to put aside massive legalization. It doesn't work and it penalizes even immigrants," Brice Hortefeux said on Europe 1 radio.

So who are the cheese-eating surrender monkeys now, Jorge?

Whattya think of them pommes, Teddy?

There are lies, damned lies...

...and then there's the New York Times, which exemplifies everything I despise about liberals: the snooty, know-better tone of passing along the "truth," the absolute freedom to lie, distort and attack, all in the name of the "greater good" as chosen by nanny-state power-hungry traitors.

You have probably heard about the latest Times/CBS poll, have heard the trumpeting of the media and the pro-illegal political hacks about a poll the poll allegedly indicating that "66% of all Americans prefer amnesty*."

It's a lie.

A big lie.

You can read the Times's version of the story here, I think. You may have to be registered to read it. Other pro-illegal outlets will no doubt be spreading the lies.

What you must do -- painful as it is -- is dig a little deeper. The Times actually makes that possible, publishing a PDF file (may also require registration, but it's free) listing the questions and breaking down the results. Look for it here.

What you learn after wading through the bilge are these things:

1. Respondents were asked more than 100 questions, many dealing with the Iraq war and not illegal immigration;

2. The questions about illegal aliens and border enforcement were general, and not directly related to the provisions of the Senate's destroy-America bill;

3. (and this is the big one) Every immigration question except the one vaguely worded question asking if respondents favored some undefined "path to citizenship" for illegals without setting conditions or time limits (that's the one that got 66% in favor) reflected, usually by a two-to-one margin or more, that these people want the borders secured, current laws enforced, and believe illegal aliens do the country more harm than good.

Logical conclusion: If the Times's own poll shows that most Americans are sensible and are against the perfidy being planned in Washington, it is the paper's duty to lie in order to advance their open-borders agenda.

This sounds suspiciously like a comment made by the egregious Seantorette Barbara Boxer attacking Jorge Bush over Iraq war funding today: "we (Senators) are here because the public demands action on Bush's failed policies."

If Boxer and the other traitors in Congress actually listened to what "the public demands" on immigration, they wouldn't have the guts to sell us all out, even if corrupt, lying Jorge Bush and alcohol-sodden Teddy Kennedy want it.

Oh, yes: Bush lied again today, too (what a surprise!): he claimed that illegals wouldn't become legals residents until all enforcement provisions (such as they are) in this "comprehensive" bill are up and running.

The truth: If Bush signs the bill, 20 million lawbreakers can theoretically become legal within 24 hours.

Even gangbangers. All they have to do is sign a paper "renouncing" their gang ties.

More and more, I am convinced that the time for a revolution -- with luck, nonviolent -- has come. The treasonous attitudes permeating Washington -- and the New York Times, Los Angeles Times and a host of other media outlets and limousine liberals -- needs to be weeded out. Now.

Who needs al Qaeda when you have Jorge Bush and too many members of Congress doing the work of destruction for them?

* Errr, excuse me..."comprehensive immigration reform."

It's not that I have nothing to say...

...it's that I have nothing nice to say. Not even anything neutral.

In short, everywhere I turn I see and hear things that irritate, anger, depress and disgust me.

I went through all of yesterday without talking to another human being. Lonely, but better than the choice of people I could have talked with.

I wonder where this will all lead. After all, I only have until next Friday to transform myself into some semblance of a social animal for my four days of heat & humidity in Connecticut. Actually, that should be no problem...I can fake it very well even if I'm not in the mood.

This is not me. I'm basically a friendly person who likes to be around people.

It's just that the people I want to be around -- current, and as-yet unmet -- aren't available. And an individual or two (or three) I thought I wanted to be around have either pissed me off or weirded me out.

If this keeps up, I won't need an apartment, much less a house.

Just a cave.

Irony

As a friend's journal entry today reminded me, Ignacio Ramos and Jose Compean remain in prison.

Who cares? Jorge Bush and the U.S. Senate clearly do not. They are busy in Washington, living large, making big pronouncements and getting ready to unfurl the flag of surrender over our laws and national sovereignty.

Does it occur to any of them that their traitorous legislation rewarding lawbreakers and punishing citizens and legal residents will have an ironic side effect?

Here it is: If Osvaldo Aldrete Davila -- the serial drug-smuggler/illegal alien and all-around scumbag whose perjured testimony, along with pressure from Jorge and his butt-lickers, sent Ramos and Compean to prison -- applies for amnesty under the program that now seems almost certain to pass, chances are excellent he would be a legal U.S. resident in 24 hours.

And Ramos and Compean would still be in prison.

Those two men committed the crime of attempting to uphold our laws and protect themselves; same goes for Gilmer Hernandez.

Look at the crime our worthless president, killer/degenerate Teddy Kennedy, crooked Harry Reid and a host of bribe-taking, unprincipled shitweasels in the Senate are about to commit:

They are going to destroy our nation. And send us the bill. All to make a bunch of future slaveowners and the drug cartels that run Mexico happy.

Removal from office is not good enough for them. Each supporter of this insanity, from Bush to his flunkies to each Senator or Representative who has signed on to this treason, should be in prison right now.

In a Mexican prison.

And Ramos and Compean should be walking the streets of America -- the real America, the land where laws are laws and freedom doesn't mean inviting terrorists, druggies, gangbangers and those who come only to take from our bounty without thought of giving in return -- as free men.

Each of us must work toward the day when the innocent are free and the real criminals pay the price for their high crimes and misdemeanors.

Spam imitates life.

One of my email accounts throws suspected spam messages in a separate folder but requires I delete them manually.

Recently, I've been looking at senders' names and message lines and it's freakin' me out a little.

Robert, Samuel, Leonard, David and Steve are all exhorting me to enlarge my, ummmm, male appendage by using pills they'll sell me.

Rose, Nancy, Louise, Katherine and Sarah want me to either gamble at their online casinos or refinance my (non-existent) house with them.

Conclusions:

1. There are too many men out there paying far too much attention to my johnson.

2. Women are only interested in my money.

I wish it was the other way around....

Superstition, numerology, and a feverish imagination

I've had a truly crappy day today. I was creative enough -- turning out a complete, moderately well-written and properly edited story between the hours of 9:00 am and 3:00 pm -- but somehow managed to maintain a totally foul mood while so doing. I feel as if I'm surrounded by bubbling pools of molten lava, complete with the odors of burning sulfur and ozone.

Much of that has to do with events I haven't written about, and have no intention of describing here.

Suffice it to say that I have learned, to my eternal chagrin, a Basic Truth:

Women and men do not think the same way. This was finally made undeniably clear to me by some strange drama during the past weekend.

After considerable rumination, I have come to some other conclusions as well:

1. I should avoid all women whose first names are made up of four letters. My ex-wife, another very serious relationship and the two women I loved most -- one of whom betrayed me, while the other turned out to be simply too strange for words -- all qualify for this numerological category;

2. I should avoid all women with herbaceous first names. For the one or two who may not know, "herbaceous" refers loosely to plants of all kinds. Herewith, the definition of "plant" from my pocket dictionary: "any of the great group of living things (as mushrooms, seaweeds or trees) that have no...obvious sense organs...." In my case bushes, flowering and otherwise, are included.

PARENTHETICAL THERE-ARE-ALWAYS-EXCEPTIONS THOUGHT: The woman who messed with my head this weekend -- resulting more in anger than hurt on my part, I must add -- qualifies only in category #2, while my ex-wife and the woman who left me and headed out into the Twilight Zone of wacko-ism only fit into #1. One fits both categories, and her departure hurt the worst.

Does any of this make any damn sense? I doubt it.

I'm simply more tired than I can express of selling my abilities and knowledge for coolie wages and, even more sick of having no one trustworthy in my life to at least help me pretend it's all worthwhile.

The Four-Letter Women, the Plant-Name Women and the one combination of the two groups have taught me that the opposite sex is simply not to be trusted under any circumstances.

I wish someone would choose to prove my superstitions and numerological assumptions wrong. I can still be convinced of the error of my perceptions.

Fat freekin' chance.

In the meantime, I have only 1500 words to write tomorrow, for a client I dislike immensely.

I heard a good anaolgy...

...about the act of treason being pushed by the Senate and Jorge Bush:

"If you steal a car, are sentenced to jail and then set free, that's amnesty. But they don't give you back the car."

Which is exactly what the mindless cretins in Washington are preparing to do. I heard one of Bush's toadies whimpering about how we will create a "permanent underclass" in this country if we don't simply fling open the gates, give amnesty to the estimated 20 million or so illegals in the country now, and sign them up for welfare.

The bill will create a permanent underclass: they're called U.S. citizens.

Why are Senators so concerned about saving Mexico from the disasters that its corrupt government has caused? Why are they so insistent that the illegals should have every right law-abiding U.S. citizens and legal residents have, and more?

Even though Senators were apparently shocked by the avalanche of emails, telegrams, faxes and phone calls they have received from sane constituents and have begun to hedge and waffle a bit, it still seems that the combined efforts of our despicable president and the reprehensible majority party in Congress will bear fruit, and they will achieve their cherished goal.

Which, ultimately, is to fold the United States into a North American Union with a common currency, no borders and a new ruling government that can wipe out our rights and push us into the chaos of socialism.

The bill is 300-plus pages of lies, deception and surrender to lawlessness.

This is no time to remain silent and walk meekly over the cliff like a nation of lemmings.

It is a time to stand up to the most pernicious enemy we have ever faced: our own government.

Amazing, isn't it? A nation that has stood strong for more than 230 years, destroyed by the combined efforts of a drink-addled killer blessed with a magic last name and a total incompetent who would surely be living on welfare if he hadn't ridden his daddy's coattails for all his adult life.

A writer who suggested such a story would have been laughed out of every publisher's office where he tried to peddle it.

And yet, we're about to live the scenario.

Today's the day...

...when those Senators hell-bent on destroying the United States start pushing their traitorous "comprehensive immigration reform" legislation.

Over the weekend, perhaps at the same time as I was wading through the 326-page draft version of the "let everyone in" bill, one of Jorge Bush's top toadies, Michael Chertoff (the headman at the laughable Department of Homeland "Security") was quoted as saying "If anyone has a better idea for controlling immigration, let's hear it."

Here ya go, Mike.

Simple version: Since estimates of the cost of the Bush-Kennedy-McCain bill are estimated at of $2.5 trillion (not counting the resulting destruction of the already-failing Social Security system as illegals start cashing in) and the pro-illegal crowd whines that it would cost $60 billion to round up and deport all illegals currently here, let's simply take the cost-effective option. Deportation is a job Americans will do, let me tell you.

Second simple version: Adopt Mexico's immigration laws. The only way foreigners can live in Mexico (or even stay there for more than a very short time) is to bring lots of money with them. Even then, they are denied most of the rights legal residents in other countries are given. Illegal immigration to Mexico is a felony, and no one wants to risk doing time in a Mexican slammer.

Yes, this is the same country that is hounding the U.S. government to change our "inhumane" immigration policies....

So. What I learned from wading through all the typical government verbal diarrhea in the upcoming legislation were these things:

1. Once an illegal applies for legal residency, the government has 24 hours to complete a background check. After that, it's free-pass time;

2. Not one of the restrictions or punishments imposed on illegals by the bill has to be enforced. Each has a loophole allowing the government to simply turn away from enforcement;

3. Illegals will not have to pay taxes they have evaded prior to applying for residency;

4. Illegals of school age will be eligible for preferential college tuition fees and for all sorts of educational assistance many legal residents won't get;

5. Though the only immediate benefit illegals can apply for is free medical care, they will be eligible for welfare, housing assistance, food stamps and other government handouts within a short time. If they have a child here -- which automatically confers citizenship on the child -- they then can apply for the full range of freebies instantly.

There's more -- lots more -- but these five illustrate the total lunacy of "comprehensive immigration reform." If this isn't amnesty, it's a damn good substitute.

I keep coming back to one question: What is the incentive for politicians, business leaders, some unions and too many media outlets to push for an act that bankrupts us, rewards lawlessness and floods the nation with millions of under-educated, usually semi-skilled illegals (and any damn blood relatives they choose to bring with them) who will soak up far more of taxpayers' money than they can possibly contribute?

Though I can guess at the answer -- think massive bribery -- it doesn't really matter.

The mere fact that these traitorous bastards are willing to sacrifice their own citizens to do the bidding of a corrupt foreign government and help corporate greedheads push down wages is enough.

Every Senator who votes for this bill should be arrested, tried and imprisoned, along with Jorge Bush and his flunkies.

Treason is, after all, a felony.

We may see the end of the United States this week.

UPDATE: Read Dr. Ron Paul's comments here. Thank God there are a few sane people left in politics!

For "anonymous..."

...who is (a) not anonymous at all, but someone I know and very much like and (b) apparently a Hoosier, by current residence if not by birth.

To answer the question, I can't remember going to a car show of any size or description that didn't have at least one race car on display. Yesterday, for example, this lovely Offenhauser-powered 1956 Indianapolis "500" racer, built by Eddie Kuzma and raced by Bob Sweikert (he finished 12th), was there, sitting on its transporter. I was lucky to get this shot; most of the morning it was surrounded by a large crowd of fans...



I was a big Indy "500" fan, at least until about 1965. When the "roadsters" (as cars of this type were called) were no longer capable of winning, I was no longer interested.

One of the worst things about growing old is that your childhood fantasies don't modernize themselves. When I was, say, 10, I fantasized about racing in the "500" behind the wheel of an Indy roadster...I still do.

Baaack home againnnnn...in In-dee-aaaaa-na....

Sheesh.

GCotW

Today's cat doesn't seem to care if she's gratuitous or not...

Saturday night...

...looking West...



...and looking East...

A quiet morning...

...at the Saturday car show.

Not much new and exciting to grab the eye, but some nice classic cars made up for the shortage of modern exotica.

This 1948 Jaguar Mark V sedan was certainly one of them...



As was this delightful 1952 Bentley, a twin (except for the radiator shell and a few very discreet badges) to the Rolls-Royce Silver Dawn...



Another rarity was this 1961 Ghia L6.4, a combination of Italian bodywork and Chrysler power. Frank Sinatra owned a similar L6.4...



Finally, a real oddity: a 1920 Opel 8/25 "Torpedo"...

Finally committed...

...to my trip to Connecticut in two weeks. I booked the flights today -- non-stop each way on nice, big Boeing 757s, I might add -- and paid for them. The act of coughing up the money makes it certain I'll go.

The last time I did this trip was six long years ago. Oddly enough, I'll be following the same old routine: Fly to Newark, collect car, drive into NYC, catch the Hutchinson River Parkway -- which becomes the Merritt Parkway in Connecticut -- until I get to Greenwich, then stop.

I'll be standing around in the sun Saturday and Sunday -- fully kitted out in blazer, dress shirt, tie, dress pants and tight shoes -- which is fun and torture all at the same time. I'll be gunning down lots of water, too.

After that, I'll head back to Newark, stopping in NYC en route to enjoy a fancy expense-account lunch and discussion of some work possibilities. Then, home.

Four pretty nice days, all for the price of paying airfare in advance (my hotel is being comped). I think it'll be good for me.

In one sense, and one sense only, I already know it will be less of a successful work/holiday trip than I'd like it to be. For four of the five years when I made this an annual pilgrimage, I enjoyed an extra joy that will be missing this time. In fact, I doubt I would have made the trek as often as I did except for that.

This year, the fact that the trip will more than pay for itself, will in fact be profitable -- I have a couple of stories to write from it -- makes me want to go, as do the scenery, friends I'll see and that expense-account lunch.

Perhaps I won't feel the loneliness and sadness of the critical missing element....

Who am I kidding? I know damn well I'll feel it. There will be moments when I'll have to hold my emotions on a tight, tight leash.

But I'm going anyway.

My letter to crooked Senators

I have sent a letter to Dianne Feinstein and Barbara Boxer, the traitorous Senators who -- without my support, I might add -- allegedly "represent" my state:

Dear Senator :

I am well aware of your pro-illegal stance on immigration, so I cannot imagine that arguments based on your sworn Constitutional duty to uphold the nation's laws and your duty to protect those citizens who have entrusted you with power will have much effect.

Therefore, I can only advise you that if you support the current "reform" measures put forth by George Bush, Ted Kennedy, et. al., I will have no choice but to work with other concerned citizens to begin a petition drive to immediately remove you from office.

Sincerely,

Deathwatch.

Absent a miracle, we will soon witness the death of the United States of America.

You remember the USA, don't you? That "nation of laws," governed by elected "servants of the people?"

Dead.

Blame for this goes to the traitorous scum in Washington -- led by the immensely corrupt Jorge Bush, drink-addled Teddy Kennedy, bought-and-paid-for Harry Reid and appeasement-minded criminals like Lindsey Graham and John Kyl -- who are about to hand the country over to law-breakers, drug-dealers, welfare-suckers and potential terrorists.

Yes, an agreement on so-called "comprehensive immigration reform" has been reached in that once-honorable body, the U.S. Senate.

The agreement, in essence, is that every damn person who wants to come into this country will be free to do so, and everyone who has violated the law -- in some cases, many laws -- to get here gets to stay. Along with their wives/husbands, children, aunts, uncles, parents, grandparents and cousins.

Some details: The plan would create a temporary worker program to bring new arrivals to the U.S. A separate program would cover agricultural workers. New high-tech enforcement measures also would be instituted to verify that workers are here legally. Note that since no one would be "illegal" in this scenario, this is meaningless.

The draft bill "gives a path out of the shadows and toward legal status for those who are currently here" illegally, said Sen. Dianne Feinstein, D-Calif. A "path?" Hell, it builds them a superhighway to slide in on!

The proposed agreement would allow illegal immigrants to come forward and obtain a "Z visa" and—after paying fees and a $5,000 fine—ultimately get on track for permanent residency, which could take between eight and 13 years. Heads of household would have to return to their home countries first. You wait -- there will be no "fines." The Hispanic pressure groups will see to that.

They could come forward right away to claim a probationary card that would let them live and work legally in the U.S., but could not begin the path to permanent residency or citizenship until border security improvements and the high-tech worker identification program were completed.

What benefits will those who were born here or came here legally have after this? The right to lose our jobs to the now-"legal" illegals, pay more for welfare costs, share our dwindling resources (water, air, land, food, etc.) with millions of additional consumers of same, and live with people who now know breaking laws is good for them.

We have already seen what happens to those who try to uphold our laws -- Ramos, Compean and Hernandez, for example -- when the vengeful puppet of Mexico's leaders orders his lackeys to go after them.

We have seen the Mayor of Los Angeles align himself with illegals, and in fact support them in their hatred for the police.

We have seen misguided religious leaders proclaim that their churches and synagogues are places of "sanctuary" for illegals.

They, and the politicians, fall back on Biblical statements about being good to the "strangers" among us.

That's bullshit, plain and simple.

Does the Bible tell us to give up our livelihoods, our possessions and our rights so someone else can thrive after breaking the law? I doubt it.

None of the knaves in Washington will have to sacrifice a damn thing. They can order us to give up our lives for millions of immigrants who, in a sane world, would not be able to come here. The traitors' fortunes will remain intact, thanks to payoffs from people who will get rich on the backs of the new slaves and those in Mexico who profit from sending their poorest citizens over the border.

Does anyone believe the newcomers will assimilate, become Americans? The illegals who have demanded special treatment and rights even citizens don't enjoy have given us the answer, over and over.

I never dreamed that the greatest enemy to the United States would be our president and our representatives in Congress. I never believed that those who have sworn to uphold our laws and constantly come up with new laws to make our lives more difficult would be the first to embrace the concept of selective law-breaking. Power not only can corrupt, but has corrupted those who wield power in Washington.

These traitors are, indeed, the tools of our nation's destruction, and unless we take away their power and punish them, treat them like the lying, crooked bastards they are, throw each and every one of them in jail.

Of course that won't happen. And the United States will vanish.

I am ashamed to be an American today, and I fear the future.

Just so you know...

...I really did provide alleged "facts" about myself in the previous post, as demanded.

To prove it, I have gone back to AltaVista's "Babelfish" translator -- which, of course, I used to do the original translations -- and have fed some text back through it to provide you with a sample answer.

Question #1 comes out this way:

"to have, and proud to bear, the genuine "boy of bat - the musical" cover of baseball."

Not exactly what I wrote. Actually, I prefer the Russified version. It's more enigmatic.

I'm thinking of running everything I write past the translation software to increase my incoherence quotient. (Я думаю бежать все, котор я пишу за средством программирования перевода для того чтобы увеличить мой коэффициент incoherence*.)


* I think to run all, I is which I write after the means of programming transfer in order to increase my coefficient of incoherence.

Excess taggage!

Yes, "tagging," that bane of journal-writers' very existence, has hit me. Two friends, Gill and Kelly, roped me into doing a revelation-type thing....

Here, as required, are the rules:

規則: 1. 各個球員開始與八任意facts/habits 關於他們自己。2. 是被標記的需要寫他們自己的blog 關於他們的八件事和張貼這些規則的人們。3. 在您的blog 的末端, 您需要選擇八個人得到標記和列出他們的名字。4. 不要忘記留給他們評論告訴他們他們被標記, 和讀您的blog 。

My answers:

1. иметь, и самолюбиво носить, неподдельный "мальчик летучей мыши -- музыкальная" крышка бейсбола.

2. Μια φωτογραφία μου συνεδρίαση σε μια τουαλέτα δημοσιεύθηκε μιά φορά σε μια εφημερίδα

3. 私は"Abe Newsboy" がの告げることができるかだれがあなたが知っている唯一の人である

4. Eu vivi em 15 endereços diferentes

5. I dronk eens 16 martini in één avond... en had geen kater de volgende dag

6. Ich habe nicht in drei Jahren ferngesehen

7. 私の性ドライブはそれが私がティーネージャーだったときだったよりより強い今である

8. Purtroppo, ci sono nessuno intorno per godere il fatto il numero sette con me....



I do, however, draw the line at 不要忘記留給他們評論告訴他們他們被標記, 和讀您的blog 。

Do it if ya wanna.

Back home again...

...after a trip that beat me to the proverbial pulp.

The event itself was okay, though too short to gather all the information I need to write the related article. In fact, in the whole 40-hour trip, there were only five or six "working" hours.

The real downer was the travel. Los Angeles - Denver - Birmingham makes no sense to me...why would you go north to travel east and south? Worse, it introduced me to the horrors of spending extended time in one of those miserable cigar-tube-with-wings commuter jets. Fifteen minutes, even an hour, is more than enough to endure noise, cramped quarters and wretched seats. Two or three hours is simply torture.

My advice to you: if you see "CRJ" -- which stands for "Canadair Regional Jet" -- on your itinerary, scream at the travel agent 'til they get you on a real airplane.

Getting to Birmingham was merely unpleasant. Coming home nearly reduced me to a red-eyed howling monster.

We were herded into a CRJ for the Birmingham - Denver leg of the return flight, the doors were sealed up, and nothing happened. We passengers were the last to learn that "weather" meant we had to sit on the ground in this torture chamber for well over an hour. When departure clearance was finally given, we were routed to Denver in a way that added another 45 minutes to the flight.

As a result, I arrived in Denver roughly 90 minutes after my connecting flight had left. Okay, I'm a big boy; I can deal with that.

But the "service" people of Incompetent Airlines could not. A remarkably bovine (in appearance and IQ) individual tried to get me on another flight which, admittedly, ain't easy late at night. She called another airline, which had a full flight and couldn't help. I asked about a flight from "our" airline that was scheduled to leave in 20 minutes. She said I couldn't make that one.

PARENTHETICAL WHY-I-HATE-DENVER THOUGHT: Inevitably, my arriving flight docks at, say, Gate 8, while the departing flight goes out of Gate 79. Denver is an airport that ranks right up there with Chicago/O'Hare and Hartsfield/Atlanta for sheer misery.

Even after I pointed out to Miss Helpful that the status board showed the last LA flight as being "delayed," she wouldn't budge. She booked me for a flight this morning, informed me that since Air Traffic Control had caused the delay, Incompetent Airlines didn't feel responsible and would not buy me a hotel room for the night, and handed me a sheet with a number to call for "discount" hotel rooms.

I delivered some choice comments and headed for the exit. It then occurred to me that my route out of this prison would take me from Gate 84 past Gate 31, which was where the flight I couldn't get on. So I hauled tail over there.

The flight was boarded, and the lone attendant at the desk was starting to close down. I ran up to the desk and, looking no doubt like a person you would not want on your flight -- Earlier, I was taken to the airport direct from working up a considerable sweat doing something reasonably intense outdoors on a hot, humid Alabama day, and was, to be polite, looking rather unkempt -- and managed to croak out a plea for a seat on the flight.

She took my reservation for the later flight, asked two or three questions about how I had gotten to this pathetic state, tapped a few computer keys and asked "window or aisle?"

The sweetest words in the English language.

I wish I had gotten her name. I would write a long letter of fulsome praise to her employers and then ask her to marry me.

I staggered onto the plane just as they were preparing to close the doors. The First-Class flight attendant (I was in coach) saw me, smiled, said "you look like you need some water," and handed me a bottle out of her First-Class stash.

If I can't marry the woman at the gate, I'll take her.

So I got home a mere three hours late, and actually made it from airport to home, made it all the way to my bed before the lights went out.

God, I hate traveling.

At least my trip to Connecticut will be much easier. Non-stop to Newark, pick up a car that is already confirmed to be there waiting when I arrive, drive up to CT. Simple.

But I will have to think very carefully about the pain/benefit ratio before accepting any more invitations that involve changing planes to get where I'd have to go.

And I will turn down any that involve flights via Denver or anything more than an hour inside a CRJ.

The word-tank is empty.

Sorry, but those few words left lying around in puddles on the floor have to be conserved for paying clients, one of who hit me late yesterday with a last-minute rush-rush job that kept me up most of the night.

I sent that one off early this morning, and now have to shift gears and write a feature article on a far different subject before I leave Monday morning.

Of course I also have to go shopping, do laundry and take a stab at cleaning the apartment before then as well....

I don't want to write. I'm not enjoying it.

My entire life these days consists of work and people making demands on me.

I'm damn sick of working to please others without return.

Catalina Island is burning.

At least the south-eastern part of it is. Unfortunately, that's where Avalon, the island's only city, is located.

The last news I've heard is that 500-plus acres have burned, and there have been some evacuations in town. Many houses and structures are of wood-frame construction, and date back to the rebuilding done after a similar fire some 100 years ago burned out the entire town.

It's hard for me to picture what might happen. When I was there a few weeks ago, all seemed so placid.

It's different tonight.



Avalon is below, and to the left, of the flames in this picture, which was taken just after sunset.

I'm guessing the streak on the left of the image in this 15-second exposure was one of the aircraft that are dropping fire-retardant chemicals on the fire.

There's still hope for the world...

...as I see it, anyway.

I heard a brief report on the radio this afternoon that cheered me up immensely:

The Pasadena (California) fire Department, working with local members of the ASPCA, has developed a "rescue kit" for animals caught in fires. Among other things, the kit includes a variety of oxygen masks that, according to the P.F.D., will fit any animal from a horse to a hamster. In addition, some firefighters have been trained in animal CPR.

Laugh at me if you want. I'm a sap when it comes to animals.

Your basic disjointed day.

I managed to get some things done today. I really did.

Unfortunately, none of them actually resulted in finished words for my clients.

It was all peripheral stuff: getting plans made for two days in Alabama next week (I'm not thrilled about the flight-to-on-the-ground-time ratio, but since I have to turn the resulting story around fast, it's probably a good thing) and four days (or more) in Connecticut next month. I also spent time gathering info for stories I'm working on.

Oh, yeah. I took my photographer friend and his girlfriend to the airport and put them on a plane for Europe.

They amaze the hell out of me. They are up to their asses in alligators money-wise, but they make this trip every year. D. tells me he has enough assignments to pay for the trip and more (figure they'll be out roughly $10K for the month) and always finds out that the subsequent payments barely cover the airfare.

Each year for the past three years, they have come home whining and angry, swearing they'll never make the trip again. Each following year, they go again. I'm glad I have resisted the temptation (not difficult, believe me) to go with them when they tender the annual invitation. You see, D. and I went to Italy together on assignment years ago, and I found that he may be the world's worst traveler. His girlfriend might even be worse from what I can tell.

At least I have an excuse for not picking them up when they return. I'll be in Connecticut.

Yes, I'm paying for the flight on that trip. It will be the first time in roughly six years I've had to buy an airline ticket. Not even sure I remember how. But even if the whole thing -- flights, buying drinks for old friends, etc. -- hit $600-$700, I have much more than that in assignments from the trip already set.

So: lots of items on my checklist completed today, but none of the big stuff. Which makes me feel as if I got nothing done.

Bah, humbug.

It's time for Americans...

...to take back our nation. Without some kind of concerted action, we will lose those few rights we have left while the government hands our jobs, money and lives over to illegal aliens.

Jorge Bush is enjoying a dinner only the wealthiest Americans -- and Mexican drug lords -- could afford with Queen Elizabeth, while Ignaco Ramos and Jose Compean are eating whatever swill their jailers care to toss at them.

Bush is doing his damndest to hand the country to his pals on the other sides of our borders; Ramos and Compean were racked up for having the nerve to actually enforce the laws Bush so casually flouts.

But the one-too-many incident that has pushed my anger past the boiling point happened here in Los Angeles on May 1st.

By now, the entire planet -- except, maybe, for a few goatherds in remote mountains somewhere -- knows that the evil, vicious, hate-filled goons of the Los Angeles Police Department brutally attacked a group of peaceful, law-abiding illegal aliens who were marching to demand their "rights."

Except that simply isn't the whole story.

The police in question were facing a barrage of rocks and bottles coming from agitators in the crowd. Whether the cops over-reacted is a matter for debate and sober, honest investigation. If some of them did, they should be disciplined after said investigation. Their biggest "crime," it seems to me, was laying heavy hands on some reporters who have been howling nonstop ever since.

I have seen much of the video shot during this incident, and I see little reason to criticize the cops.

But the fire is being kept burning by our corrupt, pro-illegal mayor, Antonio ("we clean your toilets!") Villaraigosa. He is so committed to driving the last gabacho out of "his" city that he will go to any lengths to keep the anti-police, anti-white sentiments at full boil.

And he has help. Cardinal Roger Mahony, the pedophiles' best friend, is chomping at the bit to fill his pews with illegals. Of course the Los Angeles Times supports Villaraigosa and amnesty for illegal aliens unreservedly.

Worse, our Chief of Police, the formerly hard-assed New Yorker, Bill Bratton, has been so emasculated by Villaraigosa and the other Professional Mexicans in city government that he has already disciplined two of the police commanders on the scene before an investigation can be completed.

That will teach the cops. It will teach them that their asses belong to the illegals and they can never expect any support from their own organization.

All of the trumpeting of "unfairness" and "violence" and "racism" obscure some basic facts:

1. Many of the marchers are in the country illegally;

2. Cops in this town are already at risk when dealing with the illegals. Between drunks, criminals and gang members, they are, and long have been, in the crosshairs;

3. The incident was started by some among the illegals who threw rocks and bottles at the police.

Once the police are thoroughly cowed and unsupported (assuming disgusted cops don't start resigning in large numbers), Villaraigosa and the illegals -- among whom one can find members of particularly vicious street gangs, murderers and rapists -- will have the city totally under their control, and all citizens who are not among their preferred national group living in constant fear.

And when that happens, the way for Jorge Bush, Ted Kennedy, Nancy Pelosi and their dreams of slave labor, slave voters and personal power in a "North American Union" that will strip away the last of our rights, our jobs and our safety will be made so much easier.

If they all prefer the company of Mexicans, let them move there en masse. We can only hope they take moral cowards like Bratton and vile "religious" leaders like Mahony with them.

I only hope it's not too late even now.

While I'm waiting...

...for my computer to finish sending six high-resolution photos to a client -- it was either that or give him my username and password for a couple of press-only websites, which I ain't gonna do no-how -- I might as well take my mind off the slowness of DSL service (and the expense of cable, which I don't feel like paying for) and sit here where it's cool.

"Normal" weather has finally arrived. It's almost 90 right now Where The Ghetto Meets The Sea. With little wind and the ocean so close, the humidity is approaching what are, for me, uncomfortable levels. That's good, as it appears I may have to spend two days in Alabama early next week and I need to get some practice sweating.

Work is suddenly piling up. I had planned to do six articles over the next two weeks, but since I'll be out of town for the better part of four days -- and the editor will want the story from Alabammy immediately upon my return -- I'm going to have to pick up the pace.

This is actually good. When I panic, and start hurling those verbal dung-balls at the editors, I seem to do better work. It is possible to spend too much time revising, smoothing and cleaning up the work; that happens to be one of my bad work habits.

And once the momentum builds, I should be able to finish the pieces I really don't want to write without even noticing.

Can't say it's going to make me all that much money, of course. Certainly not immediately. Some checks will dribble in within a few days, others are literally months away.

The best part is that I'll be able to front the money for a trip to Connecticut in early June. That's work-related, too, but will have a lot of fun and relaxation mixed in. All I really need to come up with is airfare (a JetBlue flight is easiest as far as airport selection goes, which makes my frequent-flier miles useless), the price of a couple meals and a tank of gas, and I'm good to go. The people who invited me pick up the hotel and are offering several free-meal opportunities.

Downside? Almost none. Except I still have bad memories of Connecticut summer heat and humidity endured while standing around outdoors in a blazer and tie, which is what I'll be doing this time, too.

Hell, if the checks come fast enough, I just might buy a second blazer, so I can wear one while the other is drying out.

I see the last of the images has completed its journey out of my computer, so I have no excuse for not getting back to work....

I can read your minds...

...or at least can predict what you'll be thinking if you manage to crawl through the verbiage ahead:

Is he whining again?

Yes, he is.

I learned a lesson yesterday: only happy people should drive long distances alone. I'm not saying that because I managed, by inches, to avoid a six-car accident in downtown L.A. made up primarily of SUVs carrying Cinco de Mayo revelers who may or may not have been hitting the cerveza early and often. Nor am I saying it because there is something disturbing about paying $3.70/gallon for gasoline.

I'm saying it because I had five hours of behind-the-wheel time to think. And my thoughts were not pleasant.

PARENTHETICAL IT-WASN'T-ALL-BAD THOUGHT: I did enjoy meeting up with friends, and talking with one friend I haven't seen in years. It was worth driving 285 miles round-trip. I'm just whining about the time before and after the party....

I seldom go to Bakersfield voluntarily. Beyond Tejon Pass, beyond Weed Patch, Pumpkin Center and Arvin, and on the way to Mettler, Wasco, Shafter and Earlimart, it is simply too close to the desolate edge of the Earth for me. Once over the mountains, one is confronted with endless miles of non-picturesque flatlands, bombarded by chicken feathers from livestock trucks and threatened by rattletrap vans full of "migrant workers...."

I thought about work, about loneliness, about the futility of my current situation. I suppose I'm selfish, but I can't help thinking that my skills, my loyalty and labors should, by now, have brought me some measure of comfort or, at least, more pleasure than I have experienced.

Over five hours, one can replay a lot of incidents and situations, second-guess actions, try to find the points where things went wrong, imagine what one might have done differently, wish that those one dealt with might have been more honest, might have responded to sincerity, love and effort in kind. You see every stupid thing you've done, match them against the consequences. You beat yourself up, even when you shouldn't.

Eventually, on an endless dark stretch of road, it all boiled down to a simple answer: "they" (the personal and professional "theys," almost without exception) did not respond in kind. They saw no need to.

Obviously, there are details I am now, and always will be, leaving out.

In fact, I'm not entirely certain why the hell I'm writing about this.

Here, as I see it, is the moral of the story: If you have love in your life from someone you feel you can trust, if you have any small measure of professional respect shown you (or at least a regular, dependable paycheck), hang on to those things as if they are life preservers.

Because they are. Without them, you are doomed to drown.

Use my experiences, my life, as a warning.

Ignore the self-help gurus and the apologists for individual choice. If you don't have other people to love and trust, if you can't find people with whom you can work in a mutually creative way, you will drown.

And it will be worse if you put yourself in situations where you have too much time think.

GCotW

This week's Gratuitous Cat is a "golden oldie" -- or, more accurately, a "gray-and-white oldie." Perhaps because today is the first really warm (bordering on hot) day we've had in a while, all the possible contenders were either indoors or sleeping in shrubbery when I went out for my walk this morning.

So here's a look back to a Fall afternoon when Lucy was enjoying the afternoon sun...



An update on last week's Gratuitous Duo: I am informed that the orange cat is named "LBJ" (!) and the orange-and-white is "Romeo."

Off to the desert...

...to meet up with some friends. It's more an excuse to get away from work than a strong desire to show up there, but it should be fun nonetheless.

And it's an excuse to get out of this miserable city, where the last vestiges of sanity, reality, fairness and law have finally vanished. The illegals have taken over -- aided and abetted by our mayor, a Professional Mexican and advocate for reconquista, the city council (made up of Professional Mexicans and limousine liberals) and the local headman of the Catholic Church, who divides his time between coddling pedophile priests and pimping for illegals -- and there is no room here for citizens or legal residents.

I'll be back tonight, mainly because I can't take Hobbes and those few possessions I care about with me.

I may even have pictures...who knows?

Well, it's like this...

I was talking to my adopted daughter* last night when the subject turned to photography. She was, as I have mentioned before, the one who inspired me to experiment with photography, to play with the camera a bit more.

Out of the blue, she said "why don't you take a picture of a palm tree?"

So I did, and she better drop by to look at it...



* Yes, I know she hasn't posted for a veritable eternity. She's out there having fun with other things, but I wish all y'all would drop by her site and howl at her about starting to write and post pics again!

Ahhhh...water!

Yes, the faucets one again are spewing the wet stuff. How long this will last, I can't say. I sometimes think the only time repairs are made here is when some building is torn down nearby and the owner can find cheap used supplies....

Some "experts" are saying Southern California may face water restrictions later this year. The drought is blamed, of course.

This is always prime fodder for the politicians. They look for new places from which to snitch water and dream up expensive programs so their big supporters can get richer building new aqueducts. They also love to preach "conservation," the same way Hillary loves to step off the private jets she uses to trot around the country on a near-daily basis and tell us how we must combat global warming.

PARENTHETICAL-BUT-RELEVANT THOUGHT: Some political hacks out West are clamoring to declare a "state of emergency" in California because the air is so polluted.

The truly odd part of this is that they are also the loudest supporters of throwing the borders open and letting millions of illegals settle here, each of whom will consume water and add to the pollution.

But hey, at least I can take showers again. For now, anyway.

A dry day.

Very dry, in fact: the water has been off in my building for hours, and there is no estimate so far as to when it will be back on.

What was that old saying? "I was unhappy because I had no soap, until I met a man who had no water?

Yeah. Something like that.

It could be worse. The cat drinks bottled water, and I showered early today. Even so, it makes one notice how many times in a day hands need to be washed and other natural functions associated with water use need to be performed.

At least I can steal some of Hobbes's water to make a pot of tea; I need to have a cuppa in hand before getting back to work.

Abi gezunt.

It's different in China...

105 days...

...since Ignacio Ramos and Jose Compean were jailed under orders of the despicable Jorge Bush.

In the meantime, grassfire.org reports that more than 10,000 faxes a day are being sent to Washington demanding their immediate release. Yet Bush and his pro-illegal co-conspirators in Washington do nothing.

Yesterday, tens of thousands of lawbreakers marched in the streets across the land. They are listened to. Ramos and Compean were not, and are not, listened to.

What the government of Mexico wants is clearly more important to the greedy, unprincipled knaves in Washington than the wishes and rights of U.S. citizens and legal residents.

It is equally clear that the wrong people are in jail.

We need comprehensive government reform, starting by removing the corrupt president and extending the removal process into the halls of Congress.

When Ramos, Compean and Gilmer Hernandez are free and their records are cleared, the borders are genuinely under control and secure, and the 20-plus million illegals are out of the country, then and only then will we have meaningful "reform."

A forgettable day...

...and that's putting it mildly.

At least it wasn't my fault that I ended up wasting the entire freekin' day. Nope. I had help, in the person of a photographer who claimed to have set up two stories for us to do in a location about 70 miles away. Through traffic, let me add.

Guess what? He arranged nothing. it was your basic total loss.

Instead of banging your ears about my frustration and -- yes -- anger, I offer the one thing I enjoyed about today...



That's right. Ducks in a pond...



I wasted 10 hours and got ducks. Pathetic, eh?