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.
Voters in Virginia finally had enough with the big lie of illegal immigration: Those who want open borders are largely either ethnic activists and chauvinists who wish open borders on the south, but would never extend such laxity to other ethnic groups (e.g., La Raza activists would oppose 1 million Chinese, Nigerians, or Ukrainian nationals trying to cross illegally into the American Southwest), or want access to cheap labor, with employers pocketing the profits while the state and thus the taxpayer pick up the inevitable social costs of their exploitation of labor.
Yesterday, we saw that voters don’t like being called names by those who are both hypocrites and nakedly self-interested in putting their own selfish agendas over the concerns of the less well-off.
Repayment caps such as those offered through income-based repayment and other policies put no downward pressure on college prices. After all, why should colleges reduce tuition rates if the government keeps increasing student-loan subsidies? Making income-based repayment options even more generous will continue to enable universities to raise tuition and fees, confident that students will have access to a deep well of federal loans and grants, which will be paid-off through IBR and loan forgiveness on the backs of the taxpayers.
“The ones we are losing are convicted felons, aliens from special interest countries, and other high risk individuals. We are so overwhelmed and preoccupied by the flood of juveniles and family units that we cannot use our resources to catch the more serious aliens,” the agent states.
The USA is being played for fools, naive fools. If you want to join our club, apply for membership.
"Jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule." Visions of Johanna (1966). Post-political, soaked in NYC, this darn song just never quits producing. Lyrics here.
Take heed, y'all readers who don't quite get Bob yet. "Name me someone who isn't a parasite and I'll go out and say a prayer for him."
Please give me the power. I promise to make everything new and beautiful for you ignorant little people who do not understand what you really want or what is best for you. Furthermore, I'll turn your slob husbands into young studs, your wives into Miss Americas, your bank accounts into mountains of gold, and I'll make the oceans recede by shipping water to the moon (with apologies to those with waterfront property).
"What is lost in lucidity is gained in the strange poetic power of association that is Shakespeare's most striking poetic feature. His mind leaps sideways - and, by implication, in cross-referenced, associative language-leaping allusiveness - as often as it bulls forward to a goal. It is the very opposite of what Orwell and the like supposed to be the special virtue of English: plain-pudding simplicity and clarity."
Maintaining a social fabric, social cohesion, shared values and culture, some degree of community, seem important to living in a pleasant place. Despite the melting pot dream, in America, as everywhere in the world, birds of a feather tend to flock together for a long time.
We have posted in the past about the travails of legal immigrants to the US. It's not easy, especially if you are educated and from Europe. Would amnesty apply to Brit, Canadian, and South African MDs? PhDs from India and China? Budding jihadists from the middle east?
In my view, you don't go to a party without an invitation. What is going on, an unarmed invasion? Drudge has this today:
If you think Delta is a mess, try partially-government-owned Alitalia...from Wiki:
On 3 May 2013, in a sting codenamed "Operation Clean Holds", police made 49 arrests at Rome's Fiumicino airport, with another 37 in major Italian airports including Bari, Bologna, Milan Linate, Naples, Palermo and Verona. All were Alitalia employees caught on camera and most were charged with aggravated theft and damage.[21] Hidden camera footage has been released showing employees rifling through, stealing from, and intentionally damaging passenger's baggage belonging to various carriers.
We'll fly them anyway. Travel is always an interesting challenge.
Watching that magnificent Women’s Final at the French Open yesterday reminded us to dig up an unsigned letter written to the Middlebury Women’s Lacrosse Team on the occasion of their National D.III Championship, way back in 1997:
YOUR OLDEST FANS
I wish you could see yourselves the way the old men did who came, faithfully, each home game, to watch you play. (Did you ever even know they were there?) With too much time on their knobby hands, and being no particular use to anyone else on those spring afternoons, they arrived, punctually, to stake out the top row of the stadium bleachers. They had names like "Walter", "Bob", "Ed", "Ralph" and "Gordie". They were between the ages of 70 and 85, but not when they watched you throw and catch. When your games began, the old men leaned back against the chilly cement stadium and forgot the prisons of their own arthritic bodies. They became lost instead in the wondrous distraction of able young women playing their hearts out on a green field.
The distant mountains that lie east of Middlebury's playing fields were of a blue, on those spring days, that suggested a glimpse of heaven on earth. The old men owed you no duty to be there. They did not know you; you were neither their grand-nieces nor granddaughters. They were not trying to set right any male chauvinistic sins of their generation, or to prove their hipness to Title IX. Your gender, in fact, had next to nothing to do with the rapture that this scene - viewed from their top row seats - stirred in them. You were athletes. That is all. Athletes at the pinnacle of youth and at the top of your sport. Graceful, strong-legged, and in love with a game that required only sticks and a ball. It was the simplicity that they loved. When you played this game of run, throw and catch, you embodied such grace and apparent ease that the old men allowed themselves the illusion that you did it all through them. (This is the essence of being a fan, to feel power vicariously through the athlete observed). Each well-turned play you made lifted up the hearts of Walter, Bob, Ed, Ralph and Gordie, and made them believe in something like a heaven on earth.
For 60 minutes it made small boys of them, returned them to an age when it was not corny to invest in one's heroes. When the games were over, they left for home, winners themselves, and they felt less afraid of living in the lonely winters of their lives.
I don't know whether any of this makes sense to you, at your ages, but you did this for a number of old men who were among your greatest fans in the spring of 1997. I just thought you should know.
From Condemned to Joy - The Western cult of happiness is a mirthless enterprise:
The Western cult of happiness is indeed a strange adventure, something like a collective intoxication. In the guise of emancipation, it transforms a high ideal into its opposite. Condemned to joy, we must be happy or lose all standing in society. It is not a question of knowing whether we are more or less happy than our ancestors; our conception of the thing itself has changed, and we are probably the first society in history to make people unhappy for not being happy.
The Green fanatics tend to be irrational or, at best, factually ignorant. From Mead:
Too many greens take their science a la carte. Where scientific research tells greens things they like to hear, greens get all self righteous about “science deniers.” But whenever some poor scientist somewhere attacks a cherished green shibboleth, hordes of vicious and bitter green activists hurl angry accusations about the corruption of the scientific process by corporate interests.
We need solutions grounded in our best understanding of science, and we need to put those into practice. We need fracking, just like we need nuclear, just like we need GMOs. And we need an environmental movement that is realistic, balanced, and committed to the needs of human beings.
So: to save the planet, beat the greens.
"To save the planet"? I hope they are being a bit ironic there, and do not really believe that they will do that.
2:1 When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place.
2:2 And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting.
2:3 Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them.
2:4 All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.
2:5 Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem.
2:6 And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each.
2:7 Amazed and astonished, they asked, "Are not all these who are speaking Galileans?
2:8 And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language?
2:9 Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia,
2:10 Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes,
2:11 Cretans and Arabs--in our own languages we hear them speaking about God's deeds of power."
2:12 All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, "What does this mean?"
2:13 But others sneered and said, "They are filled with new wine."
2:14 But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, "Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say.
2:15 Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o'clock in the morning.
2:16 No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel:
2:17 'In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.
2:18 Even upon my slaves, both men and women, in those days I will pour out my Spirit; and they shall prophesy.
2:19 And I will show portents in the heaven above and signs on the earth below, blood, and fire, and smoky mist.
2:20 The sun shall be turned to darkness and the moon to blood, before the coming of the Lord's great and glorious day.
2:21 Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.'
"Bob Benchley first introduced me to Ballantine Ale. It has been a good companion to me ever since. You have to work hard to deserve to drink it. But I would rather have a bottle of Ballantine Ale than any other drink after fighting a really big fish. We keep it iced in the bait box with chunks of ice packed around it. And you ought to taste it on a hot day when you have worked a big marlin fast because there were sharks after him."
- Ernest Hemingway
I remember when we used those green 40s for .22 target practice down at the farm's dump pile standing up at 40-50 yards. Not so easy to find tasty beers in green glass 40s these days. Shooting glass is more satisfying than shooting tin cans, and the big bottles are a little easier to hit.
I have always liked this ale - or whatever it is. Classic label, too. Give it a try, and think of Hemingway. It's cheap and good, if you can find it.
Photo via 
Is Going Topless 
NYC's 
Acts 2:1-21
"Bob Benchley first introduced me to Ballantine Ale. It has been a good companion to me ever since. You have to work hard to deserve to drink it. But I would rather have a bottle of Ballantine Ale than any other drink after fighting a really big fish. We keep it iced in the bait box with chunks of ice packed around it. And you ought to taste it on a hot day when you have worked a big marlin fast because there were sharks after him."