Talking back to the newsmakers

It’s quotation time. Check this stuff I’ve collected from the Internet in recent weeks, in no particularly logical order, with retorts and such. Enjoy.

Phil Gramm, McCain’s former economics advisor: "We have sort of become a nation of whiners,...You just hear this constant whining, complaining about a loss of competitiveness, America in decline…" (And banks failing, foreclosures and gas prices rising?)

Comedian Mark Russell refers to Obama as our next “Great half-white hope.” Then along comes talk-show host John McLaughlin: Obama "fits the stereotype blacks once labeled as an Oreo — a black on the outside, a white on the inside."

(Bad labels: I much prefer the non-racist term I used in a column, writing that Obama is a genetic hybrid. He possesses, Like Tiger Woods, hybrid vigor, if short on experience. His work on Chicago’s south side is tainted by the area’s famously crooked politics,)

Columnist David Broder piles on: “...four years in the U.S. Senate, during which he has yet to lead on any major domestic or foreign policy issue, preceded by largely anonymous service in the Illinois state senate. There have been few occasions when Obama‘s professed beliefs could be tested against his action.”

(Hell, Cindy McCain has more leadership experience than Obam a, as do lots of us. Furthermore, "Barack Obama's story that he never once heard his preacher trash whites...sounds like Bill Clinton claiming he never inhaled while smoking dope.”.--Investor’s Business Daily.)

John McCain, on Saturday Night Live: "I have the courage, the wisdom, the experience and, most importantly, the oldness necessary...The oldness it takes to protect America, to honor her, love her and tell her about what cute things the cat did."

McCain was recently blasted by the government of Iran (It’s crooked as a dog’s hind leg) for wisecracking that increasing U.S. cigarette sales to Iran could be "a way of killing 'em." Protested an Iranian spokesman. "It is most evident that jokes about genocide will not be tolerated by Iranians or Americans."
(Oh yeah? Nuke you.)

War criticism: “Many critics in Congress and the press said the improvements were just George W.'s good luck.... Then...the enemy blundered and was resoundingly defeated...So on that historic day, Oct. 19, 1781, in a place called Yorktown, a satisfied George Washington sat upon his beautiful white horse and accepted the surrender of Lord Cornwallis..”.--Investor’s Business Daily

Global Warming? Recapping the recent G8 Climate Summit, one attendee mused, “At a meeting in the morning, participants focused on finding ways to reduce gas prices...a session that afternoon focused on raising=2 0them through caps or taxes on fossil fuels.”

Michael Reagan rants: "It's time for rage---good, old American rage aimed at those elitist Democrats who prefer to see the folks beggared by soaring fuel prices rather than take the action this very real economic crisis demands: Drill... ”

The audacity of arrogance? From a recent Politico article about the Obama campaign:: “They think they know what’s right and everyone else is wrong on everything,” groused one senior Senate Democratic aide. “They are kind of insufferable at this point.” (He should know.)

Manipulation: The madam opened the brothel door in Winnipeg and saw a rather dignified, well-dressed, older man.
“I want to see Valerie,” he said. Valerie appeared and announced that she charged $5,000 a visit. Without hesitation, the man pulled out the bills and gave them to her and they went upstairs. The same thing happened for the next two nights.
After their third session, Valerie questioned him. “No one has ever been with me three nights in a row. Where are you from?”
The man replied, “Ontario.”
“Really,” she said. “I have family in Ontario.”
“I know.” he replied. =E 2Your sister died, and I am her attorney. She asked me to give you your $15,000 inherit ance.”
The moral of the story is that three things in life are certain: 1. Death,
2. Taxes, 3. Being screwed by a lawyer.

(Cultural note: San Franciscans will vote in November on legalizing prostitution there.)

Sen. Jim Webb speaks a truth: He has blamed antipathy towards affirmative action—and not racism—for Barack Obama’s lack of support among the Scots-Irish in places like Kentucky, West Virginia, and Pennsylvania.

“We shouldn’t be surprised at the way they are voting right now,” said the Va. senator. “This is the result of how affirmative action, which was basically a justifiable concept when it applied to African-Americans, expanded to every single ethnic group in America that was not white. And these were the people who had not received benefits and were not getting anything out of it.”
(Webb for Veep? Dream on.)

---And now, on to the conventions!

What happens in summer stays there

In the good old summertime, fond memories are made to last and last. They have for me.
That’s why I can’t imagine the institution of year-round school sessions for youngsters, regardless of how economical that might be. For, like the old-time military draft that our generation grew up with, which yielded responsible adult behaviors for most all of us guys, summer vacation is similarly a fine tradition to nurture, treasure and recall with pleasure.

Ah yes. There was that trip one summer before WWII, Dad had a great wheat crop and so we piled into his new 1939 Buick and headed to the World’s Fair in NYC. What stuck the most with me, though, wasn’t the fair, but an afternoon we spent on Broadway at a play. At least that’s what I thought it was.

What it was, was Hellzapoppin‘--that wonderful, hit musical revue starring Olsen and Johnson and Martha Raye. Full of nonstop nonsense that was part vaudeville and totally slapstick, it entranced me.

Trips, though, didn’t begin to cover the things during summer vacation we youngsters yearned the most for. How about the old swimming pool--and those daring one-piece bathing suits the girls wore, and the cannonball dives we took off the high board to splash them all.
Then there was that memorable afternoon in late summer when I first heard the fantastic news. Japan surrendered! That evening I made $37 selling extra, victory editions of the Abilene Reporter-News on the town’s busiest intersection, which was jammed with celebrating drunks. This paperboy felt rich beyond measure.

Later, luckily for me, my widower dad up and married the high school’s ace choral director, a lady this young singer had worshipped from afar. Shortly afterward when the school year ended, they departed on a six-week honeymoon, parking their veteran camper, me, for a long spell at our area’s Boy Scout camp. You should have seen the cushy hammock I fashioned to sleep in, woven from binder twine. It was the envy of everyone.

A short time later that summer, Dad had me drive a big truckload of sheep to Fort Worth at night, since they could have died in the daytime sun. That 150-mile trip was high adventure for me, since I hadn’t yet obtained my driver’s license. (Kids qualified then at age 14.). On the way back home, I was atop the world as I strolled into a late-night coffee shop off U.S. 80 at Ranger Hill and sat at the counter between two truckers.

Then into my early high-school years, I was overjoyed to be chosen to attend our football team’s two-week summer training camp in August--in hot, humid Corpus Christi on the Gulf of Mexico. Joy turned quickly to dread as we worked out in that steam bath of a place. At least everyone survived. Even the coaches resolved20never to return.

Then one summer during my college career, I attended ROTC summer camp at Fort Sill, Okla. It was neat, much cooler and drier than the Gulf Coast. Even during a driving rainstorm when we were over-nighting on maneuvers, I was able to sack out in the 2-1/2 ton Army truck I had been assigned to drive while my fellow trainees got drenched.

By far the greatest maneuver during my short Army career, however, would await my arrival, again in the middle of summer, at my first post as a new second lieutenant--at an anti-aircraft unit on the shores of Lake Michigan, in a Chicago park.

I strolled to the crowded beach the very next sunny afternoon and, having picked out the prettiest girl there, struck up a conversation. She would become my wife in six months. What a summer vacation that turned out to be. Yes, I got a lot out of my military career.

Much later, our three kids had the summer vacations our family all enjoyed the most. We went for a week at the beach--a lonely stretch on the Atlantic Ocean. Long Beach, down at the bottom of North Carolina, at the time was virtually deserted and cheap. We rented a cabin overlooking the water for $100 per week and just loafed there--then returned for two more summers. Perhaps cheap thrills can be the most fondly recalled, especially since they came during cash-strapped times.

Now, in looking through the rearview mirror, I realize those treasured summertime moments ended when our kids left home and I retired. So there’s nothing special about summers anymore. The tradeoffs, I realize, are surely worth it. Getting up before the crack of dawn to join the I-95 commuter crowd--that is easily forgotten. It’s much more gratifying awaiting my Yorkie pup Lollipop’s wake-up call, comfortably long after sunrise. Life's quiet treasures can, thank goodness, still be savored.

July 4's real skyrockets are in the mail

If thoughts of Independence Day ring a little hollow now at the gas pump, that’s understandable. For the outrageous gasoline prices reflect our outrageous dependence on foreign oil. And it’s of our own design.

We’ve prohibited expansion, or even maintenance, of domestic oil production, so U.S. companies today account for only a tenth of our oil use. By “we” I mean Congress, including government agencies. They all cater to what environmentalists want--a squeaky clean, super-safe country. If that also means fewer jobs and more restrictions and higher costs, tough toenails.

Environmentalists are also forcing us Virginians this summer to start forking over more cash for another vital product--electricity. Like with gasoline, we keep using more of it while thwarting its producers.

Oil gets the headlines, but consider: America uses only 15 percent more of it today than during the last energy crisis in 1973. But electricity use has skyrocketed 115 percent
For the moment, disregard those silly light-bulb regulations, which are mere band-aids. More seriously, we have just begun to pay Dominion Virginia Power between 18 and 30 percent more for our electricity, and commercial users get whacked even harder.

And again, who’s to blame? Right again. You may have heard or read about Dominion’s efforts to add a nuclear generator to its North Anna facility. It should. We’ll need its electricity soon. But there’s no telling when if ever the project will get off the ground, thanks to fierce opposition from anti-nuke protestors. It’s the same story all over the country.

And just try building a hydro-electric dam to generate juice anywhere in our fair land. Or start a new coal plant for the same purpose. The deck is stacked against us.

The stackers are the environmentalists who are whining, for example, that the Bush administration is fixing to make it easier to build coal-fired power plants near national parks. They are joined by coal haters nationally who seem to raise shriller fears the longer the earth’s weather remains rather cool, thank you very much. Other countries covet the coal our environmentalists hate. We export huge volumes from Virginia.

So others pollute? So what? Cap and trade us! They’re not dainty and squeaky clean like us. And by the way, virtually all the increased consumption of oil last year came in Asia, not here.

Our electricity problems extend well beyond the higher bills. Morning-after news reports of a typical thunderstorm in the Washington area typically note how many thousands of homes remain without power.

And check this out: “By as early as next year our demand for electricity will exceed reliable supply in New England, Texas and the West and, by 2011, in New York and the mid-Atlantic region. A failure of a power plant, or a summer-afternoon surge in the load, could make for a blackout or brownout..... Price shocks are already occurring. In May, long before peak summer demand, the wholesale price of juice jumped twofold in Texas, to $4 per kwh...New Yorkers may suffer a summer of price discontent if regulators are right about peak wholesale prices jumping by up to 90 percent.”--Mark P. Mills, in Forbes, June 30 issue.

Beyond generating the electricity, there’s also the growing problem of getting it to our house outlets. (And woe unto us when the electric “plug-in” cars start draining the system further.)
As one blogger put it recently, the most amazing thing about the electrical grid is that it works at all. Although it usually works, it doesn’t in even moderately exceptional cases, such as peak demand for air conditioning. It failed during the California power crisis several years ago.
But don’t you see, those towering power lines over our neighborhoods look so tacky. And by golly, our neighbors have done something about the problem. Here in Stafford they have convinced Dominion to bury a new line westward from Aquia Harbour rather than erect towers. I’ll believe it when I see it. If it happens, my electric bill will go up some more.

Also, big-money environmentalists have forced Dominion to re-route its planned westward extension of a major new power line, from a straight efficient path through the Virginia horse country (whose residents whinnied the loudest) southward like a fishhook through southern Fauquier County at much greater cost. Again we’ll pay for it. As blogger Don Surber puts it, we‘re “...allowing rich, elitist liberals to gaze out of their mansion windows at pristine scenery – while consuming 20 times the electricity of us commoners.”

In other words, my friends (as John McCain would say), I’m afraid our country is becoming fatally fastidious. Our pocketbooks are only the first to suffer.