In an historical episode, perhaps taken right out of the “Twilight Zone,” the scenes from last Wednesday and Thursday in Washington DC were surreal. I was drawn to the television like a firefly to a porch light, mesmerized by glare.
In the immortal words of Rod Serling, “Imagine if you will,” …a great country enjoys a leader who just negotiated a momentous trade deal with a major Asian nation. The pact increases exports, levels tariffs, and makes inroads at protecting the country’s intellectual property. The deal includes the Asian nation purchasing a record $50 billion in additional farm products, up substantially from prior years. Said leader has signed the first part of eight agreements into place which will help alleviate long existing trade imbalances that have been harming his country for decades.
That leader has also just negotiated a massive new policy with Canada and Mexico, called the USMCA trade deal, which replaced the unpopular NAFTA agreement from the Clinton era that hemorrhaged jobs into Mexico.
Imagine that same leader has brought national unemployment down to 3.5%, a number not seen since Richard Nixon was president in 1969. That number cannot go any lower as all that is left is those people who can't, or won't work.
Envision a leader who has increased the stock market by 10,000 points since taking office three years ago, to a record high of 29,030 at the same time the new agreement with the major Asian country is being signed. The stock market daily highs exhibit strong confidence in the leader’s ability to steer the country forward, establishing additional prosperity and making 401K plans across the nation soar. Day by day, the market sets a new record, emboldened by the leaders's actions.
Visualize the same leader establishing a new branch of the country’s military, something not done since 1947, called Space Force. The new military branch will usher in a whole new level of protection for the country going forward with up-to-date space-age technologies to offset attacks from anywhere around the world.
A leader who recently exterminated two major terrorists’ that were responsible for killing and maiming thousands of people around the world, in the name of their god.
Now, in a scene that could only be produced on a Hollywood set, imagine that at the EXACT same moment the Asian Trade Deal is being signed, only 2.4 miles away a large group of people, divided by tribes, gather to vote on whether to remove that leader.
(I will quash the Rod Serling narrative – you get the point)
In nothing short of a coup d'état, after sitting on the official impeachment for four weeks, Speaker of the House and Chief Dingbat, Nancy Pelosi finally called for a vote in the House of Representatives to forward the impeachment measure to the Senate. She did so at the same time of the signing of the China Agreement, of which she ignored. Her entire focus was to impeach President Trump.
Pelosi giddily then carried on a ridiculous” pomp-and-circumstance” routine the rest of the day, going so far as to give out ceremonial pens. (I would imagine a reasonable argument could be made that Trump arranged the signing simultaneously to Pelosi in an attempt to steal the spotlight – more political gamesmanship we don’t really need.) The media was equally electrified. Chris Mathews probably pissed himself. Maxine Waters followed Pelosi around like a dog smelling the privates of other dogs.
Since the House had a majority of Democrats only voting along tribal lines, rather than with common sense, the motion carried. It was official, after THREE YEARS of trying, Congress determined the impeachment farce would continue and little else will get done for the betterment of the country in the foreseeable future.
Pelosi trotted out her seven minions, called managers, including the dwarfish Jerry Nadler - who has called for the impeachment of the last three Republican presidents - that will do her bidding during the Senate impeachment proceedings. In keeping with the fairy tale theme, I found it ironic Nancy chose seven managers - Nancy Pelosi and the Seven Minions.
The word, “manager,” in this sense, actually means prosecutor. It will probably take on the additional meaning of “disrupter” that will ensure the impeachment proceedings resemble a damn circus to be strung out before a national television audience for an extended period of time, in a futile attempt to overthrow the president. If you don’t believe that, ask yourself how is it impartial when all seven prosecutors are Democrats, hand-picked by Pelosi. Perhaps our other local columnists might answer that question, as it appears by their op-eds, they seem perfectly content with this insurrection.
In addition to Nadler will be Adam Schiff, Zoe Lofgren, Hakeem Jeffries, Val Demings, Sylvia Garcia, and Jason Crow. Evidently, all have law degrees, as do 161 other House members, a sobering revelation.
For the record, this will be the third impeachment the Battleaxe Lofgren has been part of. Now that Pandora’s box has been flung open, perhaps she will still be around for the future impeachments of presidents that are sure to follow this example of a coup.
Where are we to go, now that we've gone too far?
As Nancy Pelosi sits on her duff with the faux impeachment thingy shoved into a desk drawer, she seems to have become more delusional.
I have come to believe she’s certain the title, Speaker of the House, makes her Queen Bee of the World, and President Donald Trump is an unruly child to discipline weekly. I’m not quite sure her condition is alcoholism or possibly that dementia has crept into her skull, but I for one, am tired of her petulant behavior.
Her spanking of the President, this week, is over the drone strike kill of Iran General Qassem Suleimani. Iraqi Populist Mobilization Forces (PMF) leader, Abu Mahdi al-Muhandis was also exterminated. This was said to have been in retaliation of the attacks of the US Embassy in Iraq, although Suleimani was the leader of the QUDS Forces, a terrorist organization responsible for the deaths of nearly 600 Americans. Muhandis’ PMF is an Iraqi organization composed of 40 militias.
And the Democrats have a problem with their deaths?
To repeat, one is a top terrorist general from Iran and the other a leader of Iraqi militias, two neighboring countries, together in the same vehicle. I bet they weren’t talking about picking up chicks. One has to wonder what those two were doing together in the first place, but as you know, I’m from Chebanse. It seems to me the countries comprising the Middle East have a testosterone surplus that overrules brain cells. They’ve been killing each other for centuries!
Anyway, Trump took the terrorists out on the 3rd, and Nancy has her panties in a wad for, supposedly, a couple reasons.
Her first issue was that the President of the United States, the most powerful man in the world, didn’t seek her permission. He took the opportunity presented by military brass of the whereabouts of a noted top terrorist, and disposed of him. Keep in mind, Nancy’s actual fiefdom, the House of Representatives, was still on Christmas vacation at the time Suleimani met his maker. Only Congress and students get weeks off for Christmas, the rest of us schmucks get a few days.
President Trump and our military were at work while Pelosi was sitting in her palatial mansion on Zinfandel Drive overlooking the Pacific Ocean, far away from the homeless people crapping and shooting up drugs in the streets of her 12th district.
Her second issue – she claims – is that Trumps ordering of the airstrike that killed Suleimani provokes further escalation of violence in the Middle East. She is “concerned” the airstrike puts America, and the world, to the point of no return.
My reply to her…bullshit! Her second issue is no different than her first issue. Evidently, she thinks she's more knowledgeable and informed than the President of the United States to make those decisions. She knows better than he does. Give us a break you doddering dingbat.
Folks, in normal times, the President should be accountable to the House of Representatives and the Senate. It is the counter-balance system our Founding Fathers put in place and has worked for centuries.
But these are not normal times. The democratically-held Congress has never gotten over the fact their anointed candidate, Hillary Clinton, was not coronated president. Their every waking hour is now spent plotting against the president, and the will of the people. I submit, they are actively involved in a coup against the president, and should not be trusted. A case could be made that a few of them should be in prison. We used to hang people for trying to overthrow our government.
Why should Trump have to play footsy with Nancy Pelosi, purely for gamesmanship, rather than what is best for the country, when he has an opportunity to take out a major player of terrorism? Did she or her Democrat buddies forget 9/11 or Benghazi? I haven’t, have you?
What would have been accomplished had he taken the time to check with her, other than play her silly games while Suleimani got away? And had she “authorized” it in advance, she would have taken credit for it. She would hate for Trump to receive any credit for something positive.
Pelosi and her Democrat henchmen could care less if the world burned, much less about our country or you. Their entire focus is on the chair in the Oval Office – they have to obtain it at all cost. They have to rid themselves of Trump before he gets the Swamp drained and exposes nearly all of Washington living lavishly off our dime.
Nancy Pelosi and her husband, Paul, are worth somewhere around $100 million dollars. She lives in San Francisco, 2,800 miles from the Capitol and uses our jet as her personal Uber. She will be 80 years old in March. Ask yourself, why does she keep hanging around Washington DC?
If you read my last column, after an excessive ingestion of eggnog, Jacob Marley visited me Christmas night. If you didn’t read the column, it’s on my blog or the Journal website.
Anyway, having weathered the initial meeting with Marley in a nightmare, and subsequently praying to the porcelain prince, I climbed weakly back into bed, cautiously so as not to awake the little lady…again. I dozed off to sleep, content no reunion with Marley was looming. I was mistaken.
“Hey!” Marley screamed, ratting his chains. “We weren’t done.”
I froze in horror, but to no avail – there he appeared at the foot of the bed. How was my wife sleeping through this? I wondered. Glancing over revealed she was slumbering like a baby.
“Yes, sir.” I mumbled.
“Now that you’ve done your business, let’s get back to vetting candidates so you don’t vote for that dastardly Trump,” he moaned. “Not that it might make any difference if that cantankerous Pelosi doesn’t trash that foolhardy impeachment vote. “
“Yes, sir,” I muttered again, wondering if he could follow me into the voting booth. He must have been able to read thoughts because he let loose a blood curdling scream, of which the wife slept through.
Marley groaned, “I’ve decide to throw Andrew Yang, Corey Booker and Amy Kllobachar out of contention too. They’re just three more hopeful-nothings foolishly wasting everybody’s time. Booker irritates me, darn fool was born on third base and thinks he hit a triple. As you can see, time is precious, people who waste it annoy me.”
“Yes, sir,” was all I managed, terrified out of my skull at Marley’s appearance and stench. Even his breath smelled like death. I’m wondering if I should do as he says - he never explained what would happen to Trump voters. How in damnation is my wife not smelling him?
“So that leaves Buttegieg, Gabbard, and Warren,” he growled.
“This Buttigieg guy is just the flavor of the month right now,” Marley continued. “Very religious and extremely intelligent guy, I’ll give you that, and a Naval vet to boot. Those are some pretty great qualities – you’d think he’d be a Conservative. However, his youth, lack of experience, and being openly gay are eventually going to sink his boat. Having seen the future, you Baby Boomers are still not ready for an openly gay president. Besides, black folks won’t trust him for that business in South Bend. Trump will stomp him. Leave him off your list.”
There was the mention of that list again. He made me put Michael Bloomberg on it, but now he’s running out of names.
Elizabeth Warren,” Marley fumed. “Don’t call her Pocahontas again!” he commanded, pointing a decrepit finger at me. “I liked her, but darn woman got so wrapped up in chasing the Bern to the left, she ran right past him for being even more socialist. Dumb move on her part,” Marley spat. I took the opportunity to finally blink.
“Everything she’s promising would cost taxpayers $40 - $50 trillion dollars. That’s nuts. So is she, if you ask me.’ Marley was on a roll. “Anyone can see she doesn’t really mean anything she says, she’s just lying.
"Nothing worse on the planet than a conniving lying politician. She can’t beat Trump either. No listing for her,” he moaned. There was that finger again.
“OK,” I said submissively. I realized the only candidate left was Tulsi Gabbard. I pulled the bed-sheets a little tighter to my chest, not knowing what to expect. Guess who hadn’t woke up still.
“Now, the Gabbard gal,” Marley continued. “ I don’t think she seriously has a chance, but I have to tell ya, that gal has spunk. Anyone can stand up to Hillary and live to tell about it has my admiration. I happen to know a few that didn’t, if you know what I mean.”
I thought I actually saw Marley wink!
“Do you know she was a combat vet?” Marley asked, obviously impressed. “And,” he continued, “she’s a Major in the National Guard. That’s outstanding, boy.” I shook my cowardly head in agreement.
“I just don’t know what to think about her electability though,” he rambled, shaking his head. “Like Buttigieg, at 38, she’s just a pup. Plus, she’s Hindu, and, while I have no issue with most religious beliefs, I doubt America’s ready for a Hindu president. Remember the Catholic John Kennedy fiasco? I’m bettin’ their not, but you should put her on your list anyway, because that gal has spunk. Spunk, I tell ya,” as he faded off.
I shook my head feebly. When I looked up the apparition was finally gone, hopefully forever. I softly giggled, deliriously thinking my nightmare over…until the giggles woke the wife.
Having drank too much eggnog again for Christmas, sleeping that night was a bit of an issue. At one point, I awoke to remove the CPAP mask from my ear to put it back over my nose. Finally managing to grab a few "zzzz's," I experienced the most horrible nightmare.
Evidently, in my alcohol induced stupor, Jacob Marley visited. Scrooge’s former partner was there to “persuade” me to succumb to the media hype of the evils of Donald Trump. When I balked at being infected with Trump Derangement Syndrome, he violently shuddered, then demanded I come back from the "dark side,"…or else. I wondered how he was going to get that message to the other 63 million of us, but was afraid to ask.
Marley spent the night indoctrinating me of the merits and shortcomings of the various candidates among the Democrat party. Like everyone else, he ignored Richard Bennett, Julian Castro, John Delaney, Deval Patrick, Tom Steyer, and Maryanne Williamson, wailing they have about as much chance as being nominated as me. He pointed a meaty finger at me, but I was too frightened to protest. Then he muttered something about wasting valuable time and money.
Next, he brought up Bernie Sanders. Surprisingly, we were equally repulsed. Neither of us were about to endorse a socialist.
Having never had a job before in his life, the 78-year-old "Bern" thinks and acts like a Socialist. Me and Marley agreed…we don't like people who won't work. Being British, it boggled Marley’s mind that a Yank would consider socialism over good ‘ol American capitalism.
Marley was on a roll again, shrieking, chains rattling. “Nearly everyone in the world is jealous of this country, warts and all, and yet there are folks willing to risk losing what they have!” Frowning, Marley shoved a meme from Face Book under my nose. It read: "You can vote in socialism kids, but you have to shoot your way out." Quite poignant, if you ask me.
When I chimed in that "Bern" voters should go live in a socialist country, like Venezuela first, then come back and tell us about their experience, Marley eased up some. But, as best as I can recall the rest of the nightmare, Marley had many more messages:
“Joe Biden,” Marley screamed mockingly. “Bah humbug! At 77-years-old, with dementia breathing down his neck, and having been in politics for 46 years, there’s nothing left from him! Everybody realizes Joe's faults, but as he's the only politician remotely representing the Democrat party of old, mainstream Dems have no other option but that old coot.” Marley showed me scenes of Biden's past, coming down on every side of every issue during a long political career. “Never trust someone been on the government dole that long!” he moaned.
“Plus,” Marley continued, “Mark my words, boy. Joe will not make it to the Oval Office due to the skeletons falling out of his closet. That drug-addled son's escapades and those shenanigans in the Ukraine and China will come back to haunt him.”
I thought to myself, I might have a few skeletons of my own, but methinks Joe's guilty as "h, e, double hockey sticks, too." However, I wasn’t about to share that with Marley…in fear he’d show me my skeletons.
Marley next mentioned Michael Bloomberg, although in a softer voice. “You know, he might be 77-years-old but this guy might just buy his way in.” Marley obviously thinks Bloomy’s a heavyweight. “He seems to be in charge of all his faculties, despite that stupid "Gulp" debacle. You know, he’s worth $56 billion?”
‘As compared to that dastardly Trumps mere $3 billion,’ I thought but dared not mention. Instead I said, “Bloomberg ran New York City somewhat successfully, especially compared to their current mayor,” I chimed in. Marley blistered me with curses horribly at the mention of Mayor DeBlazio. I quickly apologized for bringing it up.
“Just like your boy, Trump, Bloomy’s a businessman first, a politician second,” Marley sniffed. “I find that attribute admirable. You put him on your short-list,” he demanded. I didn’t know I had a list.
About this time, I awoke from my nightmare in a cold sweat, feeling sick. Halfway to the bathroom I remembered the CPAP hose still attached to my schnozzle, pulling the machine to the floor and awaking the Missus. I jumped when she bellowed, sounding suspiciously like old man Marley. As she was already upset about my earlier prodigious egg nog consumption, the contraption clattering to the floor certainly didn’t help her disposition. After forty-years, I probably should have known that.
While in the lavatory, it occurred to me though, it must have been a dream, voting against by beloved Trumpster. Instantly, I felt better, my nightmare was over and Jacob Marley was gone.
Or so I thought. To be continued...
Everyone knows the Christmas poem, “The Night Before Christmas?” How old were you when you found out it was also called, “A Visit of St. Nicholas?” In my case, 62. Incredibly, most everything known about the concept of Santa Claus and Christmas gift giving is derived from this poem.
Generally attributed to Clement Moore, the verse was first published anonymously in the Troy New York Sentinel in 1823, submitted by a friend of Moore’s.
Seems Moore thought himself too scholarly to have penned such a verse. A professor at the General Theological Seminary, Moore was recognized as the author in 1837, although he never acknowledged it personally until published in a book of poetry in 1844. He included this particular poem - perhaps the most well-known in history - at the insistence of his children.
Unfortunately, there is controversy with who actually wrote the poem. Major Henry Livingston, Jr. also is attributed to have written it - according to his family.
Th Livingston family claim is supported by MacDonald Jackson, Professor Emeritus of English at the University of Auckland in New Zealand. So certain is Jackson, who has spent his career studying the authorship of various written works, je published a book in 2016 regarding the authorship of the poem.
To add further to the controversy, some white-bearded, irksome columnist printed a purloined oafish adaption to the poem in a company newsletter in 2017. (Not sure his family will claim it) This author sought to acknowledge the plight of lonely truckers hurrying home late Christmas Eve, having been peddling holiday novelties, cheer and food across the country. You see, they too have families waiting for them.
A TRUCKER’S NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the land,
Not a creature was stirring, ‘cept the big rigs all manned,
With truckers; days and weeks on the road, delivering freight,
Now trying to get back home, afore it’s too late.
The children are nestled, all snug in their beds,
With visions of Santa and their daddy dawdling in heads.
And mamma in flannel nightgown; such a hectic day,
Had just settled herself down, she began to pray.
She’s uneasy for her trucker to return safe and sound,
She knows he’ll be hurrying to come back ‘round.
To be home with the family by this Christmas morn,
To celebrate this momentous day our Savior was born.
The moon had lain on the breast of the new fallen snow,
She had wanted him to stay, but understood he must go.
Yearning all day; to their home he would appear,
Surely, he’s getting close, no doubt he had to be near.
She thought of his eyes, oh how they can twinkle!
And the withered forehead; now covered in wrinkle.
The silvery hair on his head, long does it grow,
And the stubble on his chin, white as the snow;
He’s getting heavy and plump, a right jolly old elf,
Smiling at thoughts of his belly…in spite of herself.
A wink of his eye though would be what is required,
And be home safely this wintry night, it’s what she desired.
He’s sometimes not shaved and is prone to foul moods,
Tarnished he may be; and sometimes a little rude.
But you see, he’s been cursed on the road; delayed at a dock,
And his travels make sure your Christmas gifts are in stock.
While folks arrange Christmas and merrily enjoy this magic season,
Trucker’s deliver goods all over the country for good reason.
Shelves are to be filled; a livelihood; a way to support a family,
Taking him farther from home than sometimes he wants to be.
Now he’s another lonely trucker on this Holiest of Nights,
Driving highways toward home as Nature puts up a fight.
But he’ll be hurrying on this most magical of flights,
The Lord bringing him home safely would be her delight.
When, what to her wondering eyes should appear,
A big ‘ol eighteen-wheel semi becoming oh so clear.
Yes, it’ a blue Pete, and pulling a white trailer-van,
She knew in a moment…it had to be her man.
More rapid than eagles, the big rig came,
He whistled, he shouted and called her by name.
To the top of the porch! and in through the front door,
He dashed in the house, slidin’ 'cross the floor.
He sprung to her side, and grabbed her in a big bear hug,
She giggled with glee; “welcome home you big lug.
As they sat by the fire enjoyin’ nog in the bright light,
She smiled warmly while whispering,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
Christmas is almost over, so I’m getting back to normally scheduled diatribes.
19 minutes. That’s roughly the amount of time it took the Washington Post to call for the impeachment of President Trump - after he had been sworn in as President of the US. And it’s been going on, non-stop ever since – three continuous years. Democrats keep throwing motives for impeachment against the wall to see what might stick. Reasons have included:
* The Foreign Emoluments Clause concerning Trumps ongoing business ventures around the world, suspecting he would take money from foreign dignitaries. Trumps net worth has declined one billion dollars since election so if he’s stealing, he’s not very good at it.
* Collusion with Russia, costing us forty million dollars. This ruse has been debunked. Investigations are ongoing into the perpetrators instigating this travesty of justice. It appears FBI directors were involved, lying to a FISA court, putting them on a level of sedition not seen since J. Edgar Hoover was dressing in women’s clothing.
* Obstruction of justice concerning the Russian collusion claim. Seems the Left didn’t feel Trump should defend himself, but just agree to be hung.
* Access to Trumps personal finances, as well as his family, plus Trump’s subsequent attempts to halt their prying. This was wealth Trump made BEFORE becoming president. I predict this charge will be used again during the upcoming election cycle, and even perhaps after Trumps re-election. I personally would rather see how Congressman made their money AFTER they entered office. Perhaps Dick Durbin and his lobbyist wife would like to go first.
* Trumps alleged directions to the imprisoned attorney, Michael Cohen to lie about details of building a hotel in Moscow.
* After the Mueller report absolved Trump from Russian ties, Democrats shifted gears to claiming Trump used the power of the presidency to leverage the country of Ukraine to spy on Trump’s presidential competitor, Joe Biden.
Unfazed by the possible malfeasance of a former Vice President and his cocaine-addled son to shake down Ukraine, Congress elected to impeach Trump for asking the new Ukrainian president to look into the matter. Want to bet Biden is not the Democrat nominee?
We have been subjected to Adam Schiff’s secret kangaroo court in the basement of the Capitol Building, followed closely by Jerry Nadler’s televised inquisitions. With his pants pulled up under his armpits and napping throughout the proceedings, Nadler is attempting, for the third time in his career, to impeach a sitting Republican president.
This circus is still going on as I type this Thursday afternoon. Democrats and Republicans spent Wednesday alternating grandiose speeches about the merits or atrocities of impeaching the president, neither party listening to one another.
Democrats made their minds up three years ago, regardless of the damage done to the country. They must remove Trump because they know they can’t beat him at the ballot box. Republicans have been outspoken about what the Democrats are doing, but ultimately, have done little except make speeches. I wondered why they even attended the circus.
After nearly three years, the House finally got around to impeaching the president Wednesday night. It was done strictly along party lines without one Republican voting for it, shades of Obama Care. As of Thursday afternoon, Nancy Pelosi was still sitting on the impeachment, rather than turning it over to the Senate, for reasons that are unclear, but obviously political.
Before the House vote was taken, Senator Chuck Schumer attempted to sway matters in advance for the Senate, where Mitch McConnel has said the impeachment vote will die. House Democrats know this so are attempting to dictate the guidelines their Senate counterparts will follow, which might indicate why Pelosi is sitting on it. Or, has I have long suspected, she has gone daft.
Folks, this is not how democracy operates. Liberals are subverting and making a mockery out of our system of government. Impeachment is a solemn and momentous decision - it cannot be a matter of partisan politics. Right before our eyes we are witnessing a public lynching of a president while he has been busy implementing historic economic numbers and trade agreements. To impeach Trump will usher in a stock market crash like no other.
At the same time the sedition of overthrowing a president out of office is going on in Washington DC, next door the state of Virginia is considering mobilizing the National Guard against their own citizens to remove their guns. This is a guaranteed Second Amendment Right of American citizens that Virginia is unlawfully moving to overturn. When the British attempted that act in 1776…well, we know how that turned out.
We’re witnessing a coup, folks. Liberals are fundamentally attempting to alter our country’s system of government in order to usher in a Global Socialist agenda. Historians will wonder some day why we did not throw these people out of our government at the least…or adjudicate them for treason.
If we can manage to keep a Civil War from breaking out in Virginia, we the people must become more engaged to save our democracy before it’s seized from us.
In the immortal words of John Lennon,
“So, this is Christmas,
And what have you done?
Another year over,
A new one just begun.”
These words were from a song by John Lennon and his wife, Yoko Ono, together with the Harlem Community Choir for “Happy Xmas (War Is Over).” Despite intense research, there’s no evidence Yoko’s microphone was unplugged during the recording. I’m not a Yoko fan.
Until I read the lyrics, I thought the third line was, “another year older.” I’ve been singing it wrong in the shower for 50 years! (Get that picture out of your head!) Either word works – they’re both bummers if you think about it too much. I tend to do that. But I learned some oddities about this popular holiday song.
This time of the year the song is heard frequently on the radio, amongst other Christmas carols. It’s one of the more popular Christmas songs, both in America and Britain. Wonder how many generations that like this song have no idea just who was John Lennon?
Ironically, Lennon didn’t write this tune as a holiday carol in the sense of others, such as “White Christmas” or “O Holy Night.” Instead, it was to be a protest song against America’s participation in Viet Nam...by a British citizen on a green card.
To promote the song, produced in late October of 1971, Lennon decided to rent billboards in twelve cities across the world declaring, “WAR IS OVER! If You Want It – Happy Christmas from John & Yoko.” The conflict went on another three years, but Lennon did live long enough to see it.
Furthermore, the melody of the song was not Lennon’s to claim. It can be traced to an old ballad about a British race horse by the name of Skewball. A folk song, it was “Americanized” by southern slaves in the early 1800’s, changing the name to Stewball. It has nothing to do with Christmas.
Lead Belly, a blues singer, recorded Stewball. I listened to it but cannot figure out how musicologists can possibly link the recording of Stewball to Happy Christmas. It should be pointed out I lack a sheepskin in musicology, being from Chebanse and all.
Later, other artists recorded “Stewball.” Surprisingly, if you listen to the version by Peter, Paul, and Mary you can hear a resemblance to “Happy Christmas,” even though the two recordings are singing about two entirely different matters.
The “Happy Xmas” song was released too late in the year to reach much of a Christmas audience, but over the years reached enormous commercial success across the world. To this day it has been recorded by a who’s- who of musicians, including John and Ono’s son, Sean.
Now that you have been enlightened in useless Christmas song trivia, Lennon asked a question in the song, “what have you done?” I mean, besides watch Democrats create new reasons to overturn the 2016 election?
Have your accomplished any of the goals you set out to do at the beginning of the year? How’s your bucket list looking? I personally resolved to lose 25 lbs. this year. I only have 30 more pounds to go to achieve that goal. I also resolved to spend a month in Arizona this past October – I got four days in.
Isn’t it funny how life gets in the way of doing what you want? Man plans, God laughs.
But while I was not getting my plans accomplished, I have to say that overall, goals were being accomplished all around me. Our children and grandchildren all got through another year relatively unscathed with the exception of a couple broken bones by our granddaughters. My mother gave us a scare too but seems to be back to normal. Business is good, jobs are plentiful, and everyone’s 401K’s are getting fat.
The point is, perhaps Lennon was being a little tough on us, or was just too absorbed in protesting the war…from an apartment in New York. As the Christmas season rapidly overcomes us, we all should remember life is a journey, not a destination. We already have a pretty good idea of what the destination holds for us. Might as well enjoy ourselves in the short while we are here.
Please remember there are people that might need our help with their journey, and right now is a great time to think about them. Also, let’s not overlook those red Salvation Army buckets and the angels standing out there in the cold tending them, wishing us Good Cheer.
“…and so Happy Christmas,”
We were out for dinner with some other couples a few months ago, in a south suburban beanery. The youngest person in the group was in the fifties and the oldest in the mid- 60’, so we were all “Baby Boomers.” As per usual, the gals were all together on one end chatting about God knows what; and the guys on another end were drinking, cursing, and solving all the world’s problems. The only things missing was a couple of big stogies and muttonchops.
One guy, and I’m being intentionally vague, brought up the question, “Well, come January 1, are you going to partake?” The question was obviously directed as to whether any of us would participate in ingesting marijuana when it becomes legal in Illinois. As mentioned, we were all Baby Boomers, so the subject of whether to partake or not to partake wasn’t really as taboo as the generation before us, but certainly not as common as what I would believe the generations after us have become accustomed.
It was a good question, and everybody thought considerably before answering. Final answers ranged from “heck, yeah” to he “didn’t think so.” One guy coyly said he’d “take the 5th.” Quite frankly, I was surprised by the hesitation to answer, myself included. I’m not sure if the hesitation was due to not really having thought about it before, as it has always been illegal and therefore out of mind, or was it a matter they just didn’t want to reveal their inclinations at this time?
It also occurred to me later that having the wife within earshot might have had something to do with their answers. Some guys might have a thought about his future pot usage, but the wife might have another thought about his pot usage that doesn’t necessarily align with hers. He probably hadn’t checked this out with his better half.
If you think about it, it’s an interesting question for us Baby Boomers, many, if not most of who probably smoked pot in their teens but stopped when all the responsibilities of being an adult mounted. Liquor was legal and easily available without the taboo, so it became an easier relaxant. One could drink in a bar, but it was frowned upon greatly of smoking a joint. You’d likely get tossed out on your ear or the police would be called. There surely can’t be many Baby Boomers however who was never exposed to pot at some time, whether inhaled of not...ala Bill Clinton.
According ABC News, the new law, passed by the Illinois General Assembly – HB 1438, Illinois citizens over the age of 21 can purchase up to 30 grams (about an ounce) of pot for smoking in their home, effective January 1, 2020. Or there is the option of edibles, candies laced with pot, which will allow up to 500 mgs. Or one can buy 5 grams of cannabis concentrate product, whatever that is. Having no idea how much pot any of those amounts are, I am not sure what happens if one were to just to go to another store for more pot. Keep in mind though, you’re employer probably has a whole different view on this.
Illinois is the 11th state to legalize pot. Illinois will sell to out-of-state folks too, but they can only buy half as much – a provision that totally goes over my head. It seems to me this provision is comparable to cutting the proverbial baby in half. If Joe is from Indiana, and it is not legal in Indiana, why would Illinois sell Joe any? Or conversely, if the object is to raise tax revenue, why not sell Joe twice as much?
Speaking of taxes, the tax paid depends on the amount of THC, the stuff that gives you the buzz, in the product. The more THC in the product, the more tax you pay, ranging from 10 – 25%. This is the state tax – the municipality where you buy your pot can add on a tax too, up to 3.75%. My understanding the state is recommending against a municipality tax.
If the law does not specify the price of pot, won’t the black market ironically dictate price? How’s this going to work if the black market is not removed? And the bigger question is, who knows how to get rid of the black market? If everything is equal but one party is selling with tax and one without, where are most folks going to buy pot? After all, there must be Baby Boomers that might try pot in order to give their liver a long over-due break.
Asking these questions for friends.
Remember when Hillary called Trump voters a “basket of deplorables?” Well MSNBC was recently looking under rocks and managed to find a former naval intelligence officer named Malcolm Nance who compared Trump voters to ISIS. Guess we know why he is a “former” intelligence officer.
CNN is now pushing a narrative that Trump supporters are trapped in a cult. Seriously!
Vanity Fair magazine mentioned the cult in an interview with George Conway, husband to Trump advisor Kellyanne Conway, reporting that he tells people “she’s in a cult.” It should be noted Mr. Conway in not a fan of the president after being rejected for a position in the administration.
From there, CNN’s Chief Media correspondent, Brian Stelter, was able to get Anthony Scaramucci, who held the job - for a week - of House Director of Communications under Trump, to repeat the cult mantra.
Stelter parlayed that to get former CBS News Anchor, Dan Rather to repeat the cult chant. Rather went so far as to include Senator McConnell under the spell of the cult. To jog your memory, Rather disgraced himself when he used unconfirmed documents for a story on GW Bush’s National Guard service. Ever wonder how many other stories Rather may have manipulated in his 44 years of “reporting?”
All of this cult absurdity may stem from a book by Steve Hassan, called “The Cult of Trump.” Hassan was trapped in the San Myung Moon’s Unification Church cult back in the ‘70’s and has since made a living being a “de-programmer” for people in the clutches of a cult.
Hassan claims Trump is using mind control over his supporters. (Note – I did not read the book) If you think about that, stating Trump supporters’ brains are being manipulated, he hubristically implies that all 63 million of us are stupid because of our choice of candidate for president. And if we are really that ignorant, then perhaps we will buy his book and/or sign up for his de-programming services before November of 2020. Bless his little capitalistic heart.
With the Left, it never stops! Are we to put any confidence in the people promoting these conspiracies?
Some folks on both sides of the aisle are starting to quote the late Rodney King, “Why can’t we all get along?” Mr. King was the man beaten violently by the Los Angeles police after he fled arrest. This touched off the bloody Los Angeles riots in 1992 when policemen were acquitted in a criminal court. King later received a large settlement in a civil suit and eventually drowned with a snoot full of dope.
It’s naïve to “all get along” when the Left has spent every minute of the Trump presidency thus far trying to impeach him and calling us deplorable, racist, misogynistic, xenophobic, white supremacist, ISIS, and now gullible enough to fall under the spell of a cult…as Mr. Hassan did. And while they are doing this, the Main stream media cheer-leads their efforts. I don’t know about you folks, but I’m just not very hospitable when called names.
Reviewing some of the moronic politicians and celebrities that guaranteed Trump would never win the White House, in front of large crowds or the camera, is revealing.
Link - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G87UXIH8Lzo
Politicians from Lindsay Graham on the right to Nancy Pelosi and Barack Obama on the Left piled on. Obama made un-presidential jokes about Trump on the campaign trail.
Then there were nearly every celebrity and all the late-night talk show clowns bashing a Trump candidacy for the camera. Seth Myer made fun of a Trump candidacy at a banquet, with Trump sitting in the audience. Everyone roared with laughter, except Trump, who had a camera pointed at him. Who’s the idiot now, Seth?
Even news pundits George Will, Lou Dobbs, Carl Rove, George Stephanopoulos and Bob Beckle got in on the act. Pelosi and Beckle moronically guaranteed Trump would never win.
You suppose these people have a common interest? None of them apologized for their boorish behavior, but they all continue to bash our pick for president, as if they are smarter than Trump supporters.
And now they and their ilk, seeing nothing else working, still try to impeach him and promote phony theories in order for us to “all get along.” The nation is divided, they say, and we all need to come together – their way! It is we that need to relent, they say.
Their version of all of us getting along is for us to succumb to their Leftist ideals. To quote the recently late Elijah Cummins, “over my dead body.”
Please don’t let Hillary know I said that.
The other day I posted a rather innocuous message on Face Book. The message read, “Jeffery Epstein didn’t hang himself.” (I can’t help myself.)
These five words must have made its way past the so-called algorithms at Face Book headquarters as the message appeared normally. I got five “likes,” one comment, and two shares before it mysteriously disappeared.
Evidently, the message upset the gnomes at Face Book headquarters, as those types of Free Speech messages are no longer fit for public view, and are not tolerated in today’s society.
The head gnome, a nasty little unit who identifies by Henrietta, sent my message straight to Mark Zuckerberg. “Z” went berserk when he read it, tearing his best T-shirt in the process. He immediately sent it to Congressman Adam “Pencil-neck” Schiff.
And that is how I came to be called before the United States House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence.
I found myself seated at this table staring up over a high bench at bug-eyed, pencil-necked chairman, Schiff, who’s bully pulpit towers over me. Everyone to his left scowls at me; anger and derision in their eyes. Everyone to his right looks bored out of their skulls.
I looked down and noticed “What difference does it make” etched into the table.
A rough transcript of our dialogue follows:
Pencil – Neck (PN): “Mr. Webber, do you know why we called you here today?”
Me: “No clue.”
PN: “It has come to our attention you stated publicly, Mr. Epstein didn’t hang himself, which we find disconcerting.”
Me: “OK. Who’s ‘we?’”
PN: Ignoring my question, “Well, what have you got to say for yourself, Mr. Webber?”
Me: “Call me, Alan.” (I smiled to break the ice.)
PN: “OK, Alan, I will repeat the question and I would ask you to only answer to what you’re asked.” (Three people to his left hissed) “What information have you got on the Epstein matter?”
Me: “Excuse me, but that’s not what you asked me originally.”
PN: (Eyes bulging) “Sarcasm is not flattering on you, Mr. Webber!”
Me: “You know, there are a few people that have told me that when rebutting my commentaries.” (Representative Nunes laughed out loud.)
PN: “Nonetheless, what information have you got on how Mr. Epstein came to his untimely demise?”
Me: “None, I was stating an opinion. That used to be legal in this country before you snowflakes took over.”
PN: (Scowling) “When you made the statement, “Jeffery Epstein didn’t hang himself,” are you talking about the financier who recently was tragically and mysteriously discovered deceased in his prison cell in Manhattan?”
Me: “Why was there another?”
PN: “We’ll ask the questions, Webber!” (I thought the eyeballs were going to come out of their sockets.)
Me: “Hey, I’m asking for a friend, did those two guards commit suicide yet?”
With this comment, the gavel slammed with all the force Schiff could muster while calling for a ten-minute break. Everyone on the right took out pillows for a nap. Everybody to the left headed off to a little office with Schiff, me in tow.
Once inside a dark room I was beaten, kicked, and spit upon, evidently for my insolence. I swear I heard Hillary’s laugh. Glad I didn’t ask about the whistleblower.
Ten minutes later I took my seat again at the table with all the hotshots staring down at me. Congressman Jim Jordan of Ohio took one look at me and demanded to know who beat on me.
PN: “Mr. Jordan, we have no idea how that happened, but it is not your turn yet, so we will continue our questioning.” (While talking he never took his eyes off me in case I was going to talk out of turn in his proceedings. I just sat there, wiping spit off.)
PN: “Now, Webber, are you sure, Mr. Epstein is dead?”
Me: “Not really.”
PN: “Then why did you say he was?”
Me: “I didn’t. I said he didn’t hang himself.”
PN: “Who didn’t hang himself?”
Me: (perplexed) “Epstein!”
PN: “If he didn’t hang himself, why did you say he did?”
Me: (Head shaking) “I didn’t…, er ...my point was he was hung, but didn’t do it himself.”
PN: “And how do you know that?” (He leaned over his high bench; lips pursed.)
This grilling went on for twelve more hours. The people on the right side of Schiff had all snuck out some time during the proceedings. Those on the left continued to scowl and hiss me, never blinking.
Schiff did all the talking, dissecting every word of my post, turning them every which way.
Finding nothing to be gained with that path, he started dissecting each letter of the words…right up until it was time to wake up.
I might have to go back tomorrow.