The Imperial President

Stolen from Facebook --

I loved seeing Jack Nicklaus introducing Mitt yesterday in Ohio!  Jack knows how to putt -- unlike a certain President who shall remain unnamed.  And waaaaaay over par.

I Could Get Accustomed to This . . .

Having a wonderful time on our first real vacation since 1998!

The weather is beautiful here in Boston (or, at least it got that way after the storm moved through Tuesday night) -- wish you were here!

Back in a few . . .

Murphy Hits it on the Nose -- Obama-centric Foreign Policy

I am so angry and so frightened and so furious about the attacks yesterday on our diplomatic corps -- not to mention the murders of an Ambassador and his staff -- that I am tongue-tied.  I am so angry and so frightened and so furious that those attacks took place on the anniversary of 9/11 that I am red-faced.  So, since I can't clear my head enough to write about the whole thing, go over to Lagniappe's Lair and read Murph's take on those abominable (or perhaps I should say Obamanable) travesties.  Here's a little taste of Murph's post that is so spot on, and so very scary:

The reality is that they know exactly who they are messing with. They know that Barry Obama, for all of his willingness to use the power of the US Government against us citizens here to make us live as he deems proper, would sooner sell his wife and daughters in the Sudanese slave markets than risk making the world muslim community angrier at him personally.  And that last bit is important. Obama doesn't care if the world hates America as a nation; he has gone on record plenty of times hating it, too. Obama doesn't want the world hating him personally. It's always been all about him in his mind and that's how American foreign policy has been conducted since he took office. That's how we got to this point today and why it's only going to get worse for America until he's gone.

That's the heart of the matter, isn't it?  We're living with an Obama-centric foreign policy. 

I fear Israel will get tired of waiting around for the International Atomic Energy Agency to deal with Iran -- especially after being snubbed yet again by the White House -- and take drastic, irremediable action. 

In that case we may as well roll out Dr. Strangelove.

See you in the mineshafts.

There Actually Were More Innocent Times . . .

(L to R) Elder Daughter, Younger Daughter, and JB's Little in more innocent times:

Sometimes this photo haunts me.

As does this day.

God bless America.

Party Politics, and Happenings at Moogie's Mansion

I'm really, really glad the political party conventions are over.  We were able to see Ann Romney before the power went out, but missed Paul Ryan and Mitt.  And Eastwood!  We missed Clint Eastwood!  The battery operated radio was all-Isaac, all the time.

Ann Romney was some kind of impressive -- sincere, intelligent, and she didn't insult the intelligence of those listening to her, unlike a certain First Lady who shall remain nameless, and who flexed her muscles behind the podium a lot.

I did watch most of the network coverage of the Democrats.  I know -- why?  That was Pepper's take on the whole thing, but I wanted to see what was being said for myself instead of relying on the media to convey content.

Wanting to hear for myself turned out to be a big mistake when Clinton did his marathon pat-himself-on-the-back speech.  Did the Democrats learn nothing from his performance when nominating Dukakis?  Now maybe you understand why we Arkies used the phrase, "Clinton Time," when he was governor.  He was always late, and always ran over.

It was probably a mistake to watch the Young President, too.  That is the tallest drink of aloof, narcissistic sparkling water I've ever encountered.  Pepper had to leave the room on several occasions to do a little guitar therapy in order to ward off a stroke.  And what a finale!  Splat.  Serves them right for unnecessarily moving the location because of the non-existent "bad weather."

Anyway, now we're in the home stretch and I expect the robo-calls to begin at any minute.  With dread.  Serious dread.

So, what's been happening at Moogie's Mansion since the storm?  We're still waiting on the roofer -- blue tarp is in place, though, as is the downed chimney cap.  Man, that thing made quite a racket when it hit the deck!  Pepper went into manic Captain Ahab mode with painting and door-repairing and more painting.  And yard cleaning.

The city has been pretty overwhelmed in getting the debris picked up.  Isaac was such a slow mover that there was almost as much tree debris as after Katrina -- 54 consecutive hours of sustained winds in excess of at least 40 mph, with gusts at over 90.  But, yesterday (I know!  On a Sunday!) I heard the sound of heavy equipment and this is what I saw:



Yes. I realize that Moogie is very easily entertained on occasion.  (And a guy that doesn't look very much like Andy gave me a hint on Facebook about turning the phone sideways when taking future videos. Thanks, Andy -- and friend!)

Of course, they only picked up the debris that was piled up (by the homeowners, thank you very much), not the stuff that has been bagged.  So, we still have quite an impressive pile of bags littering the curbs.  *sigh*

And, today Moogie did a little money laundering:

Shhh!  Don't tell the authorities!

From Today's Inbox -- Explosive!

A fellow concealed carry permit holder sent this to me today -- I dare you to watch it without smiling and cheering.



See what I mean? 

One small thing, however -- I think Grandpa needs a little time at the range.  Aim for the core!

And someone needs to tell the woman holding her hands over her ears that she should not wander into the line of fire.

I hope the thugs broke their front teeth when they hit the deck while trying to escape. 

A Post-Isaac Labor Day Tribute

You see what I mean about there being no hope for Moogie's hair? This was pre-restoration of the AC.

So.  As we await the refrigerator repair guy (yep, the ice chute cover keeps opening and closing all by itself, and the control panel keeps flashing -- the fridge either blew a circuit somewhere during all the plugging and unplugging for generator respites, or it needs an exorcism.  Or both.), and the roofers (who arrived yesterday to replace the fallen chimney cap and discovered enough shingle damage to require a big blue tarp), and the insurance adjusters who will tell us that the repair costs don't quite meet the deductible, we come to that annual contemplation of Labor Day.  And the Second Annual re-telling of What Labor Day means to Moogie (and, I imagine, to Elder Daughter, the new Mommy):

Monday, September 6, 2010

What Labor Day Means to Moogie

As I prepare to bake an apple-blueberry pie to take to a potluck this afternoon, my thoughts drift to the true meaning of today's revered holiday observation.

Labor Day -- the day we recognize and acknowledge all those hours spent in a hospital gown that exposes our backside to the world, hee-hee-heeing and blowing, then straining to push a human being out of our bodies and into this world. (Often described by male physicians as "experiencing some discomfort.")

What's that you say? Union labor?!?!

Oh.

In that case, contact your senator and congressperson today -- and tomorrow -- and explain just exactly why the Employee Free Choice Act is no more than a communist mechanism to screw the rank-and-file employee and the employer simultaneously, and a device to take contractual bargaining out of the hands of the real parties in interest and hand it over to not-totally-disinterested third parties, among other unpleasant things.

In the meantime, go have a picnic -- and call your mother.

 

 

Lit Up at Moogie's Mansion!

When one has air conditioning, she can believe she's invincible!

And, also having television/cable/internet restored makes Moogie pretty darn awesome.  Except for her hair.  The hair is a lost cause. 

Trust me on this one.

After Isaac at Moogie's Mansion

Did I really say that it was fortunate there was a storm brewing so that Pepper could be distracted by tinkering with the generator? Do you think I had taken leave of my senses?

I do.

We're into day 4, maybe 5, with no power.

I will definitely assert that having a functioning generator is fortunate!  So is having gas for said generator.  Pepper left the house yesterday at 7:30 a.m. to get in line at a Walmart in Harahan (a 1 1/2 hour wait in line!) so he could give me 12 gallons of gas for my birthday! He's such a romantic!

Anyway, we've spent the last two nights on neighborhood porches, including one at Moogie's Mansion, in the company of good neighbors, guitar music, and lovely cocktails. (we've spent most of the days after getting clean-up done sitting around in our underwear in front of a fan when the generator is running.)

Pepper just saw several Entergy trucks and guys looking at the downed tree, distribution line, and transformer  that appear to be the source of our power outage. I hope they do more than look.

With all this humidity, I think I'm beginning to grow moss. It's not a very good color on me.