Sunday, January 25, 2015



If this item doesn’t scare the hell out of you, believe me it should. I bitterly detest Rock ‘n Roll, Hip Hop and Gangstah Rap, et al., but I would “defend to the death” the right of any rapper to perform whatever he wants –– as long as I am not forced to listen to to it. - FT
Rapper Tiny Doo facing long prison sentence over lyrics [NOTE: He's an American]

By Emma Lacey-Bordeaux, CNN

January 23, 2015

SEE VIDEO at this LINK:

http://www.cnn.com/2015/01/23/entertainment/tiny-doo-rap-conspiracy-charges/index.html

Gangstah Rapper Tiny Doo (Brandon Duncan)

'I feel like they're trying to eradicate black men'

He is being charged under a little-known state statute
Prosecutors point to his album as proof of gang involvement

(CNN) Song lyrics that glorify violence are hardly uncommon. But a prosecutor in California says one rapper's violent lyrics go beyond creative license to conspiracy.
San Diego-based rapper Tiny Doo has already spent eight months in prison, and faces 25 years to life in prison if convicted under a little-known California statute that makes it illegal to benefit from gang activities.
The statute in question is California Penal Code 182.5. The code makes it a felony for anyone to participate in a criminal street gang, have knowledge that a street gang has engaged in criminal activity, or benefit from that activity.
It's that last part -- benefiting from criminal activity -- that prosecutors are going after the rapper for.
Tiny Doo, whose real name is Brandon Duncan, faces nine counts of criminal street gang conspiracy because prosecutors allege he and 14 other alleged gang members increased their stature and respect following a rash of shootings in the city in 2013.
Prosecutors point to Tiny Doo's album, "No Safety," and to lyrics like "Ain't no safety on this pistol I'm holding" as examples of a "direct correlation to what the gang has been doing."
No one suggests the rapper ever actually pulled a trigger.
In fact, Duncan may rap about violence but he's got no criminal record.
Duncan told CNN's Don Lemon he's just "painting a picture of urban street life" with his lyrics.
"The studio is my canvas. I'm just painting a picture," he said. "I'm not telling anybody to go out and kill somebody."
He denied any involvement with any gang but said the prosecution has him concerned about future creative expression.
"I would love to continue to rap," he said. "But these people have you scared to do anything around here."
Prosecutors say lyrics aren't the only evidence they have. At Duncan's preliminary hearing, they presented social media posts that they say prove Duncan is still a gang member.
CNN Legal Analyst Mark Geragos says the district attorney may be trying to send a message "that you shouldn't glorify or glamorize gang activity."
"The problem is you're going to run straight head-on into the First Amendment," he said. "If they don't have anything other than the album, this case I don't think would ever stand up."
If crap has no right to exist, we may not either pretty soon.


Saturday, January 24, 2015


Mr. Bill from New Hampshire speaks out:

Welcome to Fantasyland


I swear our President (King?) must be on drugs.  He has to be to say “The Crisis has passed” and this is a great economy.  The redefined unemployment rate, which now reflects only formerly employed people seeking a job who get federal benefits, is at 5.8% according to his government.  

If you use the same calculation historically used to be the standard before 2003, the real rate stands at 23%.  This rate includes those who no longer get benefits, people who have no job, and self-employed people who have no work.  Part-time jobs also remain elevated: There are still 1.7 million fewer workers with full-time jobs than when the recession began in December 2007.

Unemployment for black men, people over 16, and all other slices are still in double digits. The Labor participation rate is 62.7% –– the lowest since Carter.  Ninety-two-million workers either have no job, or have decided to go on the dole.   Average pay is down over $5,000 since 2009  Payments by “safety net” departments are the highest ever. 

Most food prices rose 30% in 2014.  Utility prices have doubled thanks to the unnecessary War on Coal and the lack of pipelines for natural gas, and they are set to rise another 40%.  Property taxes are up, income taxes are up, medical premiums are at record levels, and now include enormous deductibles in many cases.  Government fees for every interaction for obtaining drivers licenses to fishing licenses have risen.steeply. Many have doubled or tripled.   Obamacare penalties are kicking in, and are so bafflingly complex H&R Block says they are bound to be calculated wrongly in most cases.

Yes gas prices have fallen dramatically to be sure, but shipping costs have not.  The reason for such a decrease in the price of fuel may be attributed to the Saudi’s pumping more oil in an effort to put fracking out of business in the US and elsewhere.  Historically, fracking needs oil prices higher than $65 a barrel to be profitable.  Fortunately, technology has improved, so that is no longer true.

The deficit may be down from its high, but it still stands at 200% of the worst year for Bush, and at triple the budget from Bush’s last, Republican-controlled Congress. 

Obama doubled the debt in six years, –– more than all his predecessors combined with in no end in sight. 

Until the boot of government regulations is removed from the necks of business and the people, we will continue to have the same anemic economy one has seen in Europe since the 1980’s.  The unemployment rate there has stayed at more than 9%  since then thanks to excessive government regulations, nationalized healthcare, high taxes, and the influx of Muslims and other immigrants.

In the last six years, Obama has unleashed the EPA to advance “global warming” regulations which are further crippling manufacturing and utility sectors. while mercilessly killing markets and boosting unemployment. 

The assault on coal eliminates the strides that were being made in cleansing technology being developed to solve the issue and enabling this cheap fuel to be used without pollution. (Can’t have that!)  The thousands of pages of new regulations include the latest ban on wood burning stoves. Get ready for fines if you actually use one.  Workers in these industries lose as well.

There are too many examples of the government overreach in the plethora of regulations by unleashed union bureaucrats to illustrate them all here.  

In 2012, Obama called for a regulatory review to reduce regulations, but has added over 60,000 pages under his watch.  20,000 for Obamacare alone. Under the Obama Regime the creeping socialism started under FDR, is now galloping full tilt. 

Now THAT is a CRISIS, and unless by some remote chance a miracle occurs,  we will have to suffer with this madman in the White House for two more years?  At the rate things have been going we will be lucky if we can survive.

You can be sure of one thing. He has it in for you.


\

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Let's Look At It Again from a Different Perspective

_____ Maud Muller _____


Maud Muller, on a summer's day,
Raked the meadows sweet with hay.

Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth
Of simple beauty and rustic health.

Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee
The mock-bird echoed from his tree.

But, when she glanced to the far-off town,
White from its hill-slope looking down,

The sweet song died, and a vague unrest
And a nameless longing filled her breast--

A wish, that she hardly dared to own,
For something better than she had known.

The Judge rode slowly down the lane,
Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane.

He drew his bridle in the shade
Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid,

And ask a draught from the spring that flowed
Through the meadow across the road.

She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up,
And filled for him her small tin cup,

And blushed as she gave it, looking down
On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown.

"Thanks!" said the Judge, "a sweeter draught
From a fairer hand was never quaffed."

He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees,
Of the singing birds and the humming bees;

Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether
The cloud in the west would bring foul weather.

And Maud forgot her briar-torn gown,
And her graceful ankles bare and brown;

And listened, while a pleasant surprise
Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes.

At last, like one who for delay
Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away,

Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah, me!
That I the Judge's bride might be!

"He would dress me up in silks so fine,
And praise and toast me at his wine.

"My father should wear a broadcloth coat;
My brother should sail a painted boat.

"I'd dress my mother so grand and gay,
And the baby should have a new toy each day.

"And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor,
And all should bless me who left our door."

The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill,
And saw Maud Muller standing still.

"A form more fair, a face more sweet,
Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet.

"And her modest answer and graceful air
Show her wise and good as she is fair.

"Would she were mine, and I to-day,
Like her, a harvester of hay:

"No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs,
Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues,

"But low of cattle, and song of birds,
And health, and quiet, and loving words."

But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold,
And his mother, vain of her rank and gold.

So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on,
And Maud was left in the field alone.

But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,
When he hummed in court an old love-tune;

And the young girl mused beside the well,
Till the rain on the unraked clover fell.

He wedded a wife of richest dower,
Who lived for fashion, as he for power.

Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow,
He watched a picture come and go:

And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes
Looked out in their innocent surprise.

Oft when the wine in his glass was red,
He longed for the wayside well instead;

And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms,
To dream of meadows and clover-blooms.

And the proud man sighed, with a secret pain,
"Ah, that I were free again!

"Free as when I rode that day,
Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay."

She wedded a man unlearned and poor,
And many children played round her door.

But care and sorrow, and child-birth pain,
Left their traces on heart and brain.

And oft, when the summer sun shone hot
On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot,

And she heard the little spring brook fall
Over the roadside, through the wall,

In the shade of the apple-tree again
She saw a rider draw his rein,

And, gazing down with timid grace,
She felt his pleased eyes read her face.

Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls
Stretched away into stately halls;

The weary wheel to a spinnet turned,
The tallow candle an astral burned;

And for him who sat by the chimney lug,
Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug,

A manly form at her side she saw,
And joy was duty and love was law.

Then she took up her burden of life again,
Saying only, "It might have been."

Alas for maiden, alas for Judge,
For rich repiner and household drudge!

God pity them both! and pity us all,
Who vainly the dreams of youth recall;

For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been!"

Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies
Deeply buried from human eyes;

And, in the hereafter, angels may
Roll the stone from its grave away!


~ John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1882)

Monday, January 19, 2015




_____ MAUD MULLER _____


Maud Muller, on a summer's day,
Raked the meadows sweet with hay.

Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth
Of simple beauty and rustic health.

Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee
The mock-bird echoed from his tree.

But, when she glanced to the far-off town,
White from its hill-slope looking down,

The sweet song died, and a vague unrest
And a nameless longing filled her breast--

A wish, that she hardly dared to own,
For something better than she had known.

The Judge rode slowly down the lane,
Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane.

He drew his bridle in the shade
Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid,

And ask a draught from the spring that flowed
Through the meadow across the road.

She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up,
And filled for him her small tin cup,

And blushed as she gave it, looking down
On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown.

"Thanks!" said the Judge, "a sweeter draught
From a fairer hand was never quaffed."

He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees,
Of the singing birds and the humming bees;

Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether
The cloud in the west would bring foul weather.

And Maud forgot her briar-torn gown,
And her graceful ankles bare and brown;

And listened, while a pleasant surprise
Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes.





At last, like one who for delay
Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away,

Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah, me!
That I the Judge's bride might be!

"He would dress me up in silks so fine,
And praise and toast me at his wine.

"My father should wear a broadcloth coat;
My brother should sail a painted boat.

"I'd dress my mother so grand and gay,
And the baby should have a new toy each day.

"And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor,
And all should bless me who left our door."

The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill,
And saw Maud Muller standing still.

"A form more fair, a face more sweet,
Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet.

"And her modest answer and graceful air
Show her wise and good as she is fair.

"Would she were mine, and I to-day,
Like her, a harvester of hay:

"No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs,
Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues,

"But low of cattle, and song of birds,
And health, and quiet, and loving words."

But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold,
And his mother, vain of her rank and gold.

So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on,
And Maud was left in the field alone.

But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,
When he hummed in court an old love-tune;

And the young girl mused beside the well,
Till the rain on the unraked clover fell.

He wedded a wife of richest dower,
Who lived for fashion, as he for power.

Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow,
He watched a picture come and go:

And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes
Looked out in their innocent surprise.

Oft when the wine in his glass was red,
He longed for the wayside well instead;

And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms,
To dream of meadows and clover-blooms.

And the proud man sighed, with a secret pain,
"Ah, that I were free again!

"Free as when I rode that day,
Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay."

She wedded a man unlearned and poor,
And many children played round her door.

But care and sorrow, and child-birth pain,
Left their traces on heart and brain.

And oft, when the summer sun shone hot
On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot,

And she heard the little spring brook fall
Over the roadside, through the wall,

In the shade of the apple-tree again
She saw a rider draw his rein,

And, gazing down with timid grace,
She felt his pleased eyes read her face.

Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls
Stretched away into stately halls;

The weary wheel to a spinnet turned,
The tallow candle an astral burned;

And for him who sat by the chimney lug,
Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug,

A manly form at her side she saw,
And joy was duty and love was law.

Then she took up her burden of life again,
Saying only, "It might have been."

Alas for maiden, alas for Judge,
For rich repiner and household drudge!

God pity them both! and pity us all,
Who vainly the dreams of youth recall;

For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been!"

Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies
Deeply buried from human eyes;

And, in the hereafter, angels may
Roll the stone from its grave away!


~ John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1882)





Here are two quotations from this piece I hope you will remember. The second is the reason why this poem became famous:


1.

But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold,
And his mother, vain of her rank and gold.

So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on,
And Maud was left in the field alone.

2. 

For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been!"

Now, Read the Poem Again, and Imagine It is Set in the Old South instead of New England, and then Imagine MAUD MULLER as a Lovely, Virtuous, Charming NEGRESS –– or a Handsome, Strapping Young MAN Named MARTIN.
NOW You May UNDERSTAND the True MEANING of Whittier's Wistful, Plaintive Verse.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1760-1831)

What is Marxism?
Do Academic Hairsplitting. Jesuitical Logic, and Legalistic Thinking Have Value in the Practical Application of Political and Religious Doctrines?



Much has been made –– primarily by leftist academics and those who’ve fallen under their spell –– of the supposed differences between Marxism, Fascism, Fabianism, Communism, Socialism, Progressivism, Liberalism, Statism and the American Democrats, as they've developed in the past hundred years.

Since all are COLLECTIVIST in nature, most openly HOSTILE to CHRISTIANITY, and therefore ANTI-INDIVIDUALIST, and all inevitably lead to DICTATORSHIP –– i.e. tyranny, despotism, authoritarianism, totalitarianism, which in turn are forms of slavery, 

I can't see any significant difference 
among them, can you?


I see that infamous group as a rough parallel to the Christian movement as it has developed since the Reformation. "How so?" you ask.

All right, here goes: The Roman Catholic, Greek and Russian Orthodox churches, the Coptic Church, the Church of the East, the various branches of the Lutheran Church, the Episcopal, Presbyterian, Methodist, Baptist, Dutch Reformed churches, the Quakers, the now-defunct Shakers, the Seventh Day Adventists, the Assembly of God, the Jehovah's Witnesses. the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints better known as Mormons, and others ALL identify themselves as CHRISTIAN churches, yet there are difference among them that keep them divided and largely at odds.

Most claim to be The One True Church to the exclusion of the others, BUT they ALL want identify themselves as CHRISTIAN.


I believe the same could –– and should –– be said for all the various branches of LEFTIST IDEOLOGY all of which are united in their opposition to INDIVIDUAL FREEDOM, CAPITALISM, CHRISTIANITY, and SELF-DETERMINATION 

The naked hostility the Left bears towards LIBERTY 
is almost palpable.


I hope someone will take the time to discuss what I have said, add to it, introduce contrast and enrichment while sedulously avoiding mockery, derision, hectoring, badgering, cliché-ridden rhetoric and canned opinion gathered from Central Propaganda Mills of any stripe.



Saturday, January 17, 2015


Why Hillary Clinton 
Won’t Run for 
President
Former Secretary of State H. Rodham Clinton

By Wesley Pruden - - Thursday, January 15, 2015

Hillary can’t win, and that’s why she won’t run. She may not know that yet herself, but a lot of Democrats want her because she’s all they’ve got. The Republicans are counting on her to run because they think she’s the candidate they can beat in what looks from here like it could be a Republican year.
Lady Macbeth has the resume that makes her plausible, which a lot of pundits and normal other people confuse with “inevitable.” Everybody recognizes her name. She doesn’t hear the music but she recognizes the words and knows policy, and likes to talk about it. She’s a woman, and that should help with the ladies. (It might hurt, too).

She has had to carry a lot of Bubba’s baggage, and people usually pity the wronged wife. Nobody is comfortable as the object of pity, but political widows have often exploited it. Political wives, not so much. Hillary has successfully used it, probably because she has thrown the occasional lamp. People like people who fight back.
She has even carried some of Barack Obama’s baggage, and she’ll have to work hard to avoid sharing the blame for the president’s bad choices. The map of the world is speckled with them.
Against every positive, there’s two or three negatives. Everyone has a list. Many women like her, some women worship her. Most men despise her. She reminds them of their ex-wives. Life is not fair. Men, a wise man said, are assumed to be competent until they prove otherwise; that was Mr. Obama’s good fortune in 2008, when nobody looked at him closely. Women are thought to be incompetent until they prove otherwise, as many women in politics and business do every day. Getting credit is not easy.
Successful men and women are born with an instinct for politics, or they never have it. Bubba was born with it, along with the ability to change convictions like changing his pants. The politicians who have it have no shame exploiting it. If they have the ability to wink, smile and say the right thing they can get by with anything short of murder, and maybe that, too. What can you do with a good ol’ boy like Bubba? He only rarely hit a false note. Hillary never hits anything but.
She’s stiff and wooden as a public speaker, as if trying to prove Dr. Johnson’s famous aphorism that a woman preaching is like a dog trying to walk on its hind legs. Hillary is tone-deaf besides. She’s always starting on her “back foot,” as the English say, and she’s a mediocre campaigner, too. Bubba would never have said the family, with millions in the bank, was “dead broke. Not because it was a lie but because everybody in America knew it was a lie. A skilled politician would never have asked, after the Benghazi debacle, “What difference, at this point, does it make?” Whatever gift for politics she has, she got from imitating Bubba. Voters won’t be satisfied with a pale imitation, and nobody listens to two-time losers.
Instinct and ambition — the “fire in the belly” — is a lethal combination, and Hillary has a version only of ambition, but it only occasionally flashes as the hard blue flame that drives winners. Mike McCurry, Bubba’s press secretary, asks the pertinent question about Hillary: At 67, does she really want to spend her golden years working 16 hours a day, eating bad food, sleeping in a strange and uncomfortable bed every night, shaking the hands of strangers in a drafty gym in Iowa, and rubbing elbows with indifferent diners in New Hampshire? She could live the luxurious life at her own pace, delivering the same canned speech written for her, enjoying a new granddaughter, making speeches for $200,000 a pop and watching the millions accumulate at the Clinton Global Foundation.
Running in 2016 won’t be the picnic of 2008, when she had no record to defend (nobody expects so much of a senator). The press, which took a dive in 2008, is loaded this time. She will get sharp questions that she won’t be able to blow off in 2016. She will find out quickly “What difference, at this point, does it make.” There will be no coronation.
Hillary is caught in a trap of her own ambition. The prospect of her as president, which keeps the big money coming from foundations and corporations buying access to a new president, will dry up once she announces, leaving her with only the anger of partisan friends with no candidate. But life for the Clintons has always been about Hillary and Bubba, and good luck to everybody else.
Wesley Pruden is the editor emeritus of The Washington Times.