Tuesday, January 31, 2017


If anyone is able to find fault in the logic expressed here, I'd love to hear what he or she might have to say.

Saturday, January 28, 2017


A Looming Threat

Another Enemy Waiting 
to Pounce

A Feministic Chimera

A Harpy 
More Hideous 
Than Hillary

Lizzie Warren's sharpened axe
Waits to give "Kapital" forty whacks,
And when she has destroyed the banks
She'll say you owe her many thanks.
Then engines of th' economy 
She’s reduced to beggary
Will go down on bended knee 
To save themselves from bankruptcy
At your expense, and then you'll see
The end of private property,
And all forms of democracy.

Lizzie’s worse than Hillary.
You'll be reduced to penury
By Lizzie Warren's axe.
She longs to heavily levy on thee




Thursday, January 26, 2017


A few years ago on a searing hot July day, I stepped outside our neighborhood Chinese take-out place after eating lunch, and ran into a dog, who was lying on her side panting with exhaustion in the heat. I looked at the dog –– a beautiful thoroughbred Boxer ––, and talked to her, as though we were already old and dear friends. She had a beatific look in eyes, if such a thing is possible in a dog, and I felt great empathy for her.
Though she was on a leash, I hadn't noticed her companion.
Suddenly a deep, pleasant-sounding masculine voice said very gently, "Her name is Vicky."
One look at the young man was deeply disturbing. He might have been good-looking, but his teeth were all black and brown, his lips terribly dry, his complexion mottled, his eyes sunken in circles of darkened flesh with a haunted look, and his blond hair filthy and stiff with grease. But Vicky obviously adored him, and his devotion to the dog was almost palpable. The bond between them was so obvious –– and so strong –– its beauty was extraordinarily touching.

I talked with him about the dog Vicky, and I could tell from the way he spoke that she was the only reason he had to want to go on living. But Vicky, a retired firehouse dog who'd won several medals during her career, was already 13 years old, and showing signs of exhaustion. They'd already walked several miles across town in that heat to get to the place where I'd met them. It looked as though this story would have no happy ending. 
I felt a strong urge to take them home with me and offer them food and shelter, but realized it was impossible, and where could it possibly lead? I felt I shouldn't start something I wouldn't be able to finish.
I offered him money, though I didn't have much on me, but he thanked me and refused very politely. He wanted to find work, he said. He had a brother who was looking door-to-door for work right then, he told me. They both had been living on the street for seven years. He said he was twenty-four, but from the look of him he might have been fifty.

I knew no store or restaurant would allow him to enter with Vicky, so I offered to buy some food for him and the dog, but again he politely refused. He had a sack filled with food for Vicky. She obviously came first,
I asked him if his parents were alive, and couldn't they help him and his brother? 
He had a mother, but never had any idea who his father might have been. I asked about the mother, who lived in a trailer. All he said was, "We couldn't Iive with her. Her place is so dirty and full of bugs and garbage the smell would make you sick." She, apparently, was an alcoholic who long ago had given up on life. He felt trying to live with her would be worse than the street, and told me that was why he and his brother had gotten out of there in the first place.
I was practically in tears; I have never felt more helpless –– or more useless –– in my life. There just wasn't anything I could do, so finally I had to leave them there, but the thought of that dear animal, who had such faith in the young man nearly broke my heart, and the thought of those two haunts me to this day.
I never saw them again, so I can only imagine what must have happened. Frankly, I shudder to think how their story must have ended. I suppose if Jesus had met them He would have been able to help them, but it was way beyond my feeble powers to do anything, but feel bad about it.

I still do. I often think of them, and get overcome with that terrible feeling of heartbreak and helplessness. It's not guilt so much as it is sorrow, –– and frustration at being made to feel so helpless and so useless. 
Somehow, there MUST be a way to deal humanely with situations like that, but I'm damned if I know what it could be, do you?
It's horrifying to think their story is only one of millions just like it in this the richest and greatest country on God's green earth. 

"Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses? ..."
"Is there no MERCY?" is all I can ask.

Sunday, January 22, 2017


best expresses the Boundless Joy, Uplifting Energy, Encouragement, Optimism, Bravery, and Tender Caring I believe we should be experiencing right now because of President Trump's Glorious Victory 
and the Dynamic Start he has made to his New Presidency – a presidency that promises to revive the best aspects of our past by eschewing and discarding the inroads naysaying Socialist Activists have made that weakened and destabilized our once vibrant, innovative, highly productive culture that made us The Envy of the World. 

If President Trump succeeds, his presidency will break the shackles that have bound us and brought about a culture of indifference, self-destructive decadence, 
lethargy and stupor.




Friday, January 20, 2017


The odds were a hundred to one against me
The world thought the heights were too high to climb
But people from Missouri never incensed me
Oh, I wasn’t a bit concerned
For from hist’ry I had learned
How many, many times the worm had turned

They all laughed at Christopher Columbus
When he said the world was round
They all laughed when Edison recorded sound
They all laughed at Wilbur and his brother
When they said that man could fly
They told Marconi
Wireless was baloney
It’s the same old cry

They laughed at our wanting Trump
Said we were reaching for the moon
But Trump came through
Now they’ll have to change their tune

They all said Trump just couldn't be elected
They laughed at us, and how!
But ho, ho, ho!
Who’s got the last laugh now?

They all laughed at Rockefeller Center
Now they’re fighting to get in
They all laughed at Whitney and his cotton gin
They all laughed at Fulton and his steamboat
Hershey and his chocolate bar
Ford and his tin lizzie
Kept the scoffers busy
That’s how people are.

They laughed at our wanting Trump
Said it would be, "hello, goodbye."
But Trump came through
Now they’re eating humble pie

They all said he'd never make the White House
Now he's taking a bow
For ho, ho, ho!
Who’s got the last laugh?
He, hee, hee!
Let’s at the past laugh
Ha, ha, ha!
Who’s got the last laugh now?

~ Ira Gershwin - emended for the Inaugural by FT

Ella and Louie sing it just
for you, President Trump!
We Humbly Dedicate this Page
In the Hope We May Assuage
The Grief At Which We're Hintin'
Of Poor Chagrined, Obsessed With Rage

Miss Peggy Lee

The Great Ella Fitzgerald

Benny Goodman & His Orchestra 
with Helen Wood

Hasta la vista, Baby!

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Triumph Tower


On Inaugural Eve high up in Trump Tower, 
The Donald reflected on his newfound power.
The conservative masses had come out in force, 
And delivered a victory that would chart a new course.

The snowflakes were shell-shocked with tears in their eyes, 
The media lied to them. What a surprise!
They had been promised a Hillary win,
But the criminal Clinton took a blow on her chin.

And though from all corners celebrities flew, 
They made no impression, for they hadn’t a clue.
They talked about climate, racism, and such,
And stories they told showed they didn’t know much.

The fake news and ignorance came at great cost, 
And they can’t understand all the reasons they lost. 
They blame it on Comey and Bernie and Vlad,
But fail to acknowledge the one who was bad.

Yes, Hillary Clinton, in many ways flawed, 
Was her own biggest hurdle toward getting the nod. 
The campaign exposed her corruptness and greed,
And her speeches were punch-less as ten dollar weed.

So out in the streets there arose a great clatter, 
It was Soros-paid rioters and Black Lives Matter. 
With cities to pillage and windows to smash, 
They knew not the issues, but wanted the cash.

Eight years of Obama had given them cause, 
To expect a replacement of their Santa Claus. 
But soon the protestors will all feel the pain, 
When the wheels fall off of their old gravy train.

And now all the snowflakes are riddled with fear, 
Upset and offended by all that they hear. 
The cocoa and crayons may help for a while, 
But fact-based reporting will soon cramp their style.

At first I supported, and voted, for Cruz, 
In the end, I would vote for whomever they’d choose. 
He wasn’t my first choice, but soon I would cede,
The one they call Trump is the one that we need.

The Champ!

I saw him on TV in front of a crowd,
He spoke about veterans, it made me feel proud. 
He spoke about energy, safety, and jobs, 
Taking us back from the Washington snobs.

He was dressed in Armani, all tailored and neat, 
And the Brunos he wore made his outfit complete. 
For a man of his vintage, he seemed very fit,
And he looked presidential, I have to admit.

His eyes glowed like embers, his smile was the best, 
And his hair was the color of my old hunting vest. 
His love for this country was on full display,
And his actions spoke louder than his words could say.

He thanked all his voters, and before he was gone, 
Saved thousands of jobs while Obama looked on. 
The fate of this country left nothing to chance,
So, he filled out his cabinet weeks in advance.

The men he had chosen were of the same mind, 
Let’s set the bar high, and not lead from behind. 
He picked up his phone as he rose from his seat,
With a flick of his finger, he sent out this tweet; 

"Now Mattis! Now Kelly! Now Sessions! And Pruitt! 
On Perry! On Flynn! You’re the ones who can do it.
Start lifting restrictions; start building the wall, 
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!” 

The roar of his audience rose from the stands,
He kissed all their babies and shook all their hands. 
He answered their questions and calmed all their fears,
Till they knew it would be a fantastic four years. 

Then he jumped in his limo, and off to his jet, 
A fellow the Leftists won’t soon forget.
He sent one more tweet as the evening expired; 
"Happy Inaugural to all, 
and, OBAMA,

Welcome home, Mr. President!

~ by Tony Olson - courtesy of TOM - lightly emended by FT

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

We All Should 
Wish Them Well

The Official White House Christmas Card, 2016

For all the quips and jibes and taunts
And brutal castigation
This First Family's image haunts,
And begs new valuation.

Both elegant and wholesome 
This group radiates great charm
We should feel proud 
they reached a goal some 
Tell us did no harm.

Their image, lean and lissome, 
Does great credit to their race.
To know them might be bliss. Some
Might wish to kiss each face.

The father’s been a failure
Many say with unchecked bile.
Rated as the Holy Grail your 
Welfare class adored his style.

Conservatives despised him
And insisted he must fail,
While the the Left who idolized him,
Thinks the Right belongs in jail. 

And so we’re now divided
Many saying we’re at war
With those we have derided
Thus forgetting what Life’s for.

Although his leftist stance
Has been essentially perverse
We should not want to dance
Upon his grave. That make things worse 

By deepening the chasm 
That now between us yawns
We kill enthusiasm
Thus darkening all our dawns.

So please try to remember
Barack with charity;
His legacy’s an ember
Now. Let’s pray Trump sets us free.

~ FreeThinke