We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Certainly, this isn’t about fairness in the tax code. Reich, Rangel, et al have no interest in “fairness”. What this is about is property rights and who ultimately gets to control them. What we have here are not “liberals” but statists who cover their envy of others’ success with sanctimonious socialism. Reich believes that people have no right to own more than 50% of their earnings and they must pay yearly rental to the government of their property.
“Reich only wants to do this to ‘the rich’” you say? I don’t buy it. For one he disengenuously cites Eisenhower and JFK tax rates and skips Ronald Reagan. Facts about the tax code and tax rates of those eras and increased federal revenues as they changed and rates fell would belie his jealous hissy-fit. And that’s what this boils down to — envy, jealousy … the coveting of your neighbors success. It’s the excuse offered by the people who shoplift “hey, they’re rich, they won’t miss it and I wanted it.”
Arthur Kornberg was born in Brooklyn on March 3, 1918. As a youth he helped out in his parents’ hardware store. He was only 15 when he entered the City College of New York.
Dr. Kornberg earned a medical degree from the University of Rochester in 1941 and interned at Strong Memorial Hospital in Rochester. He applied for research training grants but failed to receive any, he said, because of anti-Semitism.
"Our relentless search for wellness through medicine has created a kind of therapeutic imperative, the urge to treat every complaint, every deviation from the norm, as a medical condition." --Shannon Brownlee, Overtreated, p. 206
9To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told this parable: 10"Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: 'God, I thank you that I am not like other men—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.'
13"But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, 'God, have mercy on me, a sinner.'
14"I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted."
...my view is that we in the west are already well on the way to a new form of post-modern totalitarian state (what Guy Herbert calls 'soft fascism') in which behaviour and opinions which are disapproved of by the political class are pathologised and then regulated by violence backed laws "for your own good'' or "for the children" or "for the environment".
This is what governments always tend towards, and it must be resisted by proud, strong free men and women before we all become serfs of The State. If you think that is hyperbole, then just watch, say nothing, and do nothing.
The "political class" isn't wise - it's crafty and smart, but fundamentally rendered insane by power. It is a governmental disease, akin to alcoholism, and it seems to be universal. Our Founders feared this, predicted it, and made valiant efforts to prevent it.
People who renounce power over others too rarely go into government.
In Maine, last week. I should say "pa'tridge", not "grouse." In Maine, Ruffed Grouse are "partridge". In Canada, grouse are often referred to as "chickens." Hunting grouse is rough on one's legs. Famous soap opera star on the right.
From Cheryl Miller's Claremont review of Edith Wharton by Hermione Lee (h/t, No Left Turns):
Edith Wharton, the massive new biography by Oxford English professor Hermione Lee, is the story of success: how Lee's formidable heroine survived a painful childhood, a disastrous marriage, an only slightly less disastrous love affair, repeated bouts of depression and illness, and the German occupation. Through it all, Wharton remained unflappable. Just two months before her death, she paid a visit to a friend and collaborator, the architect Ogden Codman, to discuss a new edition of their The Decoration of Houses- (one of Wharton's 48 books). "Everyone was on jump all the time," Codman complained of his frail but nevertheless commanding guest. Only a few days after she arrived, Wharton suffered a heart attack. As she was carried into the ambulance, she admonished her host: "This will teach you not to ask decrepit old ladies to stay."
You can visit Wharton's recently-restored Berkshire home and gardens, "The Mount," in lovely and civilized Lenox, MA. Been there. It's not too far from Maggie's Farm. A friend helped raise the money for the restoration, and they did a good job with it. They duplicated her formal garden designs.
What are you doing today? Heavy rain here, so the Mrs. and I eschewed our usual Saturday morning horse fun and are making enough mincemeat for 8-12 pies, using Grandma Myers' recipe but doubling it and backing off on the sugar a bit: I do not care for an overly-sweet pie of any sort. I am adding dried cranberries and dried currants, and I am using Canada Goose and beef because I have no venison this year: it's been too warm to hang one, so it makes no sense to shoot one. I will age the mixture until close to Thanksgiving. I used rum in it last year, brandy this year. Also, to sip a little for a bracing brunch while cooking and chopping meat, suet, and apples.
I am, at the same time, making my special beef bourguignon for dinner, so the kitchen smells of spices, molasses, raisins, vinegar, apples, wine, brandy, bacon, and cooking meat. The smell is a hearty meal in itself.
Dispute between neighbors - this is a true story. A city councilman in Utah, Mark Easton, had a beautiful view of the east mountains, until a new neighbor purchased the lot below his house and built a new home. The new home was 18 inches higher than the ordinances would allow, so Mark Easton,mad about his lost view, went to the city to make sure they enforced the lower roof line ordinance. The new neighbor had to drop the roof line, at great expense. Recently, Mark Easton called the city, and informed them that his new neighbor had installed some vents on the side of his home. Mark didn't like the look of these vents and asked the city to investigate. When they went to Mark's home to see the vent view, this is what they found...
Editor: I think that's on the harsh side. I prefer this topiary effort to convey a gentle neighborly message:
We missed this piece from Vanderleun, which begins:
The Asheville, North Carolina restaurant was one of those common to our post-post-modern world. Open and airy with a wall of windows framing hanging plants. Casual to the point of paper napkins. Sporting a list of local beers and -- surprise -- local wines. Tarted up with the kind of overtly ironic art on the walls where the painter has one statement and one image in his repertoire and repeats it ad nauseam. This time it seemed that the sensibility being trotted out was one of Hieronymous Bosch meets Hello Kitty.
The Italian governmentuneasy about the internet. Why? And how many other governments want to control the flow of ideas and facts? In my opinion, any government that wants to do that is illegitimate, by definition.
The Al Qaidavideo game. Meanwhile, Bin Laden declares war against the UN "occupation" of Darfur. And amusingly, terrorists turn angry with Bin Laden. Such things happen when people are losing.
Photo: It's finally hunting season again. Long-time readers of Maggie's know that she is the famous Maid of the Marsh, a lovely and elusive mythical creature known only to duck hunters, and seen only on foggy days by hunters with serious hangovers combined with mental instability. We were fortunate to catch this photo, which is clearer than most photos of Bigfoot.
October has been a very good month for new Maggie's readers. A fine harvest of new friends, whether you agree with us about things or not.
A hearty welcome to all of you in the US, Canada, the UK, Australia, and the rest of the world. We are pleased and honored to have you all as visitors.
Please sample some of our "recent essays" on the upper left column - we only post "thought pieces" there - not that we are really capable of orderly thought: we do our best, with limited time, limited IQ, not to mention our neanderthal lack of intellectual sophistication. We are simple country bumpkins, recently fallen off the turnip wagon, who aspire only to Common Sense - and a few other things.
And don't forget to send us around to all of your friends and enemies. They should not feel left out.