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.
Our Recent Essays Behind the Front Page
Monday, February 8. 2010
I cannot keep up with the uncovering of the global warming scam. Now it's Africagate. Where is Fearmonger-in-Chief Al Gore hiding?
Where is Big Oil? Not in the US
How about Mitch Daniels?
The t-shirt story at Powerline: But Enough About Me. What Do You Think About Me? (By the way, the lady did have medicalinsurance.)
Am Thinker: Desperate Times and Left-Wing Psy-Ops
Sex Week at Yale
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Thanks for the great links. I read the Mitch Daniels piece and followed the link to Paul Ryan, very exciting and energising stuff. I love the idea of free-market solutions to our problems.
I am hoping that the Republicans can run Presidential candidates without any baggage in 2012. I liked Romney and Palin, but their beliefs/backgrounds/religion allowed the media to focus on them rather than the issues. The Left can never win on the issues so they trash the candidate themselves and we never get to have a serious conversation. And wouldn't it be nice if we actually got to choose this time around, unlike last time when the media decided that McCain was the acceptable Republican nominee.
Can we puhleeeze get this one right? The newspapers have failed at their first obligation and responsibility--INVESTIGATION into our community lives. THE ACCURATE REPORTING of the FACTS. That was their job-that was their raison d'etre. When they stopped performing that task they ceased to be necessary to our lives. THUS THEY ARE FAILING! It is only an ironic twist of fate/destiny that provided the community with a new technology which stepped into the vacuum left by newspapers who had become instruments of government or unions. The internet, nor bloggers, etc. are responsible for the decline of newspapers--newspapers committed suicide-- I recall being at a flower show in a very liberal city. The local newspaper (now gone) was trying to sell subscriptions, handing out free shopping bags and such. I told the gentlemen that I had stopped subscribing years ago because they had stopped doing investigative journalism. His response: "yes, I know, but we are a great bulletin board of community events." He was not speaking of government corruption--nope he said what he meant--they had reduced themselves to reporting on planting times, dances, movie reviews, parades, fund raising picnics and such. WE THE PEOPLE UNDERSTOOD THAT--though at the time it would have been heretical to say it out loud in that city!
Dear God--was that your intervention that provided us with the internet? Just wondering.
Found this on another site. Why, oh why, have I not recalled this piece sooner? It is from our much loved Mark Twain (who has almost been completely omitted from today's curriculum). I know Maggie's readers will enjoy this piece.
"o the duke said these Arkansaw lunkheads couldn’t come up to Shakespeare; what they wanted was low comedy – and maybe something ruther worse than low comedy, he reckoned. He said he could size their style. So next morning he got some big sheets of wrapping paper and some black paint, and drawed off some handbills, and stuck them up all over the village. The bills said:
AT THE COURT HOUSE!
FOR 3 NIGHTS ONLY!
The World-Renowned Tragedians
DAVID GARRICK THE YOUNGER!
EDMUND KEAN THE ELDER!
Of the London and Continental Theatres,
In their Thrilling Tragedy of
THE KING’S CAMELEOPARD,
THE ROYAL NONESUCH ! ! !
Admission 50 cents.
Then at the bottom was the biggest line of all, which said:
LADIES AND CHILDREN NOT ADMITTED.
“There,” says he, “if that line don’t fetch them, I don’t know Arkansaw!”
Well, all day him and the king was hard at it, rigging up a stage and a curtain and a row of candles for footlights; and that night the house was jam full of men in no time. When the place couldn’t hold no more, the duke he quit tending door and went around the back way and come on to the stage and stood up before the curtain and made a little speech, and praised up this tragedy, and said it was the most thrillingest one that ever was; and so he went on a-bragging about the tragedy, and about Edmund Kean the Elder, which was to play the main principal part in it; and at last when he’d got everybody’s expectations up high enough, he rolled up the curtain, and the next minute the king come a-prancing out on all fours, naked; and he was painted all over, ring-streaked-and-striped, all sorts of colors, as splendid as a rainbow. And – but never mind the rest of his outfit; it was just wild, but it was awful funny. The people most killed themselves laughing; and when the king got done capering and capered off behind the scenes, they roared and clapped and stormed and haw-hawed till he come back and done it over again, and after that they made him do it another time. Well, it would make a cow laugh to see the shines that old idiot cut.
Then the duke he lets the curtain down, and bows to the people, and says the great tragedy will be performed only two nights more, on accounts of pressing London engagements, where the seats is all sold already for it in Drury Lane; and then he makes them another bow, and says if he has succeeded in pleasing them and instructing them, he will be deeply obleeged if they will mention it to their friends and get them to come and see it.
Twenty people sings out:
“What, is it over? Is that all?”
The duke says yes. Then there was a fine time. Everybody sings out, “Sold!” and rose up mad, and was a-going for that stage and them tragedians. But a big, fine looking man jumps up on a bench and shouts:
“Hold on! Just a word, gentlemen.” They stopped to listen. “We are sold – mighty badly sold. But we don’t want to be the laughing stock of this whole town, I reckon, and never hear the last of this thing as long as we live. No. What we want is to go out of here quiet, and talk this show up, and sell the rest of the town! Then we’ll all be in the same boat. Ain’t that sensible?” (“You bet it is! – the jedge is right!” everybody sings out.) “All right, then – not a word about any sell. Go along home, and advise everybody to come and see the tragedy.”"