Hillary: The Twenty-first Century Teflon Candidate

This is apparently now what appears in the AP style manual  (the slayer of the Oxford Comma) in the section defining "innocence" or "Who? Me? What'd I do?"

Also apparent is the Media's latest shift in their strategies to effect Clinton-spin. From Hot Air: 

So even if Hillary Clinton never “intended” for sensitive information to be exposed, keeping it outside of the normal storage and safeguards of the government is more than sufficient for a case to be prosecuted. But the fundamental premise of saying there was no malicious intent is still dishonest in and of itself. Whether she cared for it or not, Secretary Clinton was aware that there was a State Department email system in place and available for her use. When your employer provides such a communication system for the employees it requires an active decision on the part of the employee to go out and hire people to set up a completely independent server in their home and keep it’s contents away from the prying eyes of the public. If she had restricted her use of that server to nothing but personal correspondence with friends and family it would still have raised some eyebrows but I believe she’d get a pass on the entire malicious intent question, but that’s not even remotely what happened. She was intentionally doing public business on her private server and it doesn’t require a psychic to figure out why. She didn’t want the public or the press to know about it or have any traceable records.

Still, as I referenced above, that’s not the question at hand. The lack of intent line is just a red herring. Prosecution under 18 USC 793 only requires that the information wind up being outside of its proper place of custody. You can argue the intent angle all the live long day but it doesn’t change the fact that the law clearly appears to have been broken. Whether the Justice Department (under the thumb of one of Clinton’s biggest campaign surrogates) decides to do anything about it is another question.

Bless her heart. She didn't mean to cause no trubbles.

I'm fairly certain that General Petraeus was of the same mind. Not that that did any good, or anything, for his defense. He was convicted in a Federal Court, and in the court of public opinion, barely escaping having to appear before a Court Martial, losing a star in the process.

I'm about as fed up as I can get with "standards" vs. "Clinton standards."  But then, I've lived in Arkansas during most of the Clinton era so I'm ahead of the game in recognizing Clinton adoration-blinders when I see them.

It's time for the rest of the country to WAKE THE EFF UP and smell the BS.

Yeah. Fat chance.

(Sorry for the language. Hillary brings out the worst in me.)

Happy Derby Day and Mother's Day Eve.

California and New York Hop on the Minimum Wage Thrill Ride

So. Today, California and New York took the first steps to raising their intra-state minimum wage to $15.00 per hour over the next few years as the respective Governors signed the enabling legislation into effect.

The relevant politicians in those states flapped their jaws a bunch about "dignity" and "parity" and "economic justice."

I frankly don't think much consideration was given at all to actual "economics."

There goes that giant sucking sound again -- jobs vanishing from the good ol' US of A.

And $7.00 cheeseburgers at McDonald's. Self-service.

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT du Jour

There will be no discussion, observation, or opinion offered on the state of any Jenner, Kardashian, West, or their ilk on this blog.

You're Welcome.

At Loose Ends Here

I'm kind of in a funk. Just kind of antsy for some unknown reason.

And I'm seriously sick and tired of governments getting more and more involved with the minutiae of daily living. Take Dallas, for example.

On New Year's Day, a new ordinance took effect in Dallas that imposes a new "environmental fee" on paper and plastic bags used to transport purchases made at retail stores.  Five cents per bag! The "fee" purports to be a means to reduce litter and the customer is permitted to bring his own reusable bags or purchase them from the merchant. AP reports, "The Dallas rules have sparked some confusion. But officials say the idea is to encourage shoppers to bring their own, reusable bags — thus avoiding the new fees."

I'm sorry, but this sounds like a "nudge" to "encourage" sanctioned behavior and a revenue generator all rolled into one handy-dandy rule. A tax by any other name . . . .

So, I think I'll go along with Calvin in the upcoming year:

Gee, I miss Calvin and Hobbes.

And, I need a hug.

Post-election Fatigue

Tuesday was Primary election day in Arkansas. The ads were flying fast and furiously. Some were amusing, some were tacky. But, there were a boatload of them and we got really tired of them.

I mean really tired!

So, in an effort to curb campaign spending, (and in a bigger effort to effect a de facto enactment of term limits) I'm dragging out my old Plan to re-vamp how folks get sent to DC to run (and ruin) our lives:

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 8, 2009

Moogie's Fun and Revolutionary Plan for Public Service Reform in D.C.

In a moment of blinding clarity, I have stumbled upon what could be the salvation of our nation and our Republic.

We have to chunk out our system of federal elections and start over from scratch.

The states may continue to do whatever they please for intra-state elections pursuant to the Tenth Amendment, and that'll get the Feds off their backs for a whole lot of stuff, primarily because the Feds will have been forced to acknowledge and abide by the Tenth Amendment. If folks don't like what policies their state is enacting in connection with a particular issue, like, say, same-sex marriage, then they are free either to try to effect change in their state through legislation or move to another state whose laws more closely reflect their beliefs. Hello, Republic! A confederation of independent states who are free to follow the will of their citizens, not the sometime-well-intentioned-but-often-cuckoo citizens of Soviet Socialist Massachusetts or Pelosi-world.

You may not be aware of the fact that I was -- fairly recently -- a strong opponent of term limits. I believed institutional memory to be a very important component of orderly government -- we shouldn't have to re-invent the wheel time after time after time simply because no one was in Congress or the Governor's mansion who could remember what happened the last time someone came up with the same boneheaded idea, or how badly its implementation failed. Today, I simply don't care. There are too many boneheaded ideas floating around this ol' world to prevent their redundancy, so opposing term limits is no longer on my radar.

The notion of needing to devise some reasonable facsimile of term limits brought me to the election of our Republics' representatives in D.C. -- so, let's just get all Constitutional about it and return to the Founding Fathers' notion of true "public servants" in which people are called to serve their fellow citizens for a brief amount of time, not to make a career of meddling in the lives of every citizen.

We can retain the Constitutional requirements for eligibility to serve (e.g., age, natural-born citizenship, residency) -- they're pretty sensible. But as for the actual "election" -- there will be no further federal elections.

We're going to have a National Public Service Lottery.

Every eligible U.S. voter (eligibility to be determined by each state) will be required to purchase two lottery tickets: one each in the POTUS/VPOTUS Scratch-off in which only two tickets have all the magic numbers (indexed to population or voter registration; details and cost to be worked out later), but the Presidential Powerball Number on one ticket wins the White House and the runner-up moves into One Observatory Circle at the U.S. Naval Observatory as VPOTUS, both for the Constitutional term of four years. No one may win the POTUS/VPOTUS Scratch-off more than two terms in a row.

Additionally, the eligible voters of each state and territory will be required to purchase similar lottery tickets for Senator (lotteries to be staggered to accommodate rotating 6-year terms) and Representative: one winner per slot per state.

Of course, we'd have to do away with the Electoral College and replace it with a Commission of Electoral Inspection to determine the qualifications and eligibility of winners. The Commission could be composed of 3 members (to have a tie-breaker), appointed, one apiece, by the President, The Senate, and the House of Representatives. Vacancies occurring in Congressional office could be filled by vote of the vacant office's State Senate; presidential succession would be in effect until the following lottery.

Would there be a chance for cheating or corruption? Of course. Is there now?!?! (Hello, ACORN.) Would some mind-numbingly unqualified folks win the Public Service Lottery? Um, duh -- but what's the difference between that and the current system?

Could the loss of institutional memory be regretted, especially in the House of Representatives? Most probably. But, tinkering with the details could find a reasonable compromise to extend and rotate terms in the House, so let's not throw this idea out without trying it.

It's fun! It's a revenue generator! It's a regular fruit-basket turnover in D.C.!! It's Moogie's Revolutionary Plan for Public Service Reform in D.C.!

I've given you the bones -- now, hammer out the details.

It could work. And there would be no ads or robocalls! Someone needs to bust out some Petitions.

Rant Alert: Madison Avenue Elicits Moogie's Ire

Above is part of the front page of an advertising insert from Sunday's Demo-zette. It's for a new restaurant here in Little Rock, BJ's Restaurant and Brewhouse.

The insert tickles the taste buds by featuring photos of pretty tasty looking food. It's colorful. It pictures a group of smiling people, of all ages, genders, races, and ethnicities -- we can easily imagine that they're happy because they've just eaten a delicious meal and thrown back a couple of house-brewed beverages. It promotes BJ's online services. It promotes new menu items. It has everything you'd expect to prompt you to go to BJ's.

No. It doesn't.

This ad is representative of a recent trend in marketing that drives me stark-staring nuts. The consumer is forced to search the entire ad, including fine print, to find out where the dadgummed place is located!! In this particular case, the address of BJ's is nowhere to be found.

The web page address where you may order in advance of arriving is provided, but nowhere do they tell you where to arrive.

The web page address where you may pay anytime you're ready is provided, but nowhere do they tell you where you'll be served your food.

They warn you that "[consuming] raw or undercooked meats, poultry, seafood, shellfish or eggs may increase your risk of foodborne illness," but nowhere do they tell you where you might consume those potentially tainted foodstuffs.

No phone number.

AAAGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm not a total Luddite. I obviously managed to locate BJ's website, and hence its address, by doing a simple Google search. That's not the problem.

Obviously, the ad served some of its purpose. I noticed all those things listed above about food and people and eye-catching colorfulness.  That's not the point.

The problem is that I, the paying customer, was inconvenienced. I had to make an effort to research a restaurant's location so I could picture where it is in my mind instead of just seeing it in the ad. That makes me be perfectly willing to skip BJ's for now and go instead to a restaurant that cares enough about its customers' comfort to tell the customer where its fare may be consumed. There are plenty of them out there.

Also, once I started glancing over the ad, I was sucked into it, now on a mission to find out where the freakin' place IS!

Take note, Marketeers: Moogie is not pleased with your current strategy. And that's the point.

Rant over. Have a nice afternoon.

Civil War Within the First Amendment

I most emphatically do not share the views on race that Clippers' owner, Donald Sterling, expressed in a recorded private conversation. If given the chance to get to know Mr. Sterling personally, I probably wouldn't care much for him and would choose not to associate with him for many reasons. From the revelations of recent events alone, one can discern that he's not just a racist, he's a cheating, bullying, misogynistic racist.

That said, the death sentence and pay-for-your-own-execution imposed upon him today by the NBA disturbs me. I think it has to do with the evolving trend to consider one person's opinion as more important than another's; one person's "feelings" being more worthy of validation than another's. Political Correctness.

The First Amendment to the US Constitution protects the rights of American citizens with respect to: the establishment and free exercise of religion; a free press; the right to assemble peacefully and to associate with whomever they please without interference from government; the right to contact government representatives; and the right to free expression.  (Wikipedia.)

What the NBA did today, essentially, elevated the opinions and feelings of a group of people above Sterling's. Mr. Sterling should be allowed to express his opinions -- especially in private -- no matter how reprehensible they may be. But, here's where it gets a little complicated -- others, who do not share his views, have the right not to associate with him. This includes the NBA.

Perhaps that's how the issue should be framed -- we do not desire to associate and do business with a man who adheres to a doctrine with which we do not concur. If this is what the Commissioner intended to relate in his press conference, it didn't come across that way. Commissioner Silver stated that the League had determined "the hateful feelings are those of Mr. Sterling.The views of Mr. Sterling are deeply disturbing and alarming." Hateful feelings.

Condemning someone's feelings because they differ from yours, and rendering someone else's feelings superior, is just one step ahead of creating a Thought Police Force. Isn't "diversity" one of the goals of modern society? Shouldn't that include diversity of thought?

Maybe I'm making too much of it, but the tone of the whole kerfuffle gives me the creeps. Maybe my Inner Libertarian has surfaced.

By the way, does anyone else find it amusing that Mr. Silver condemned Mr. Sterling? Maybe Mr. Silver is just jealous that he's merely plated and not solid sterling.

Sorry. Someone had to say it.

And, does anyone else wonder where the coverage of John Kerry's gigantic gaffe concerning Israel (also uttered in private) might have gone?

Young, Foolish, and Felonious

My goodness. Moogie seems to have been the Negative Nellie the past few posts.

I don't see that changing today.

It's just that there is sooooo much stupidity out there. And so much of the stupid originates in the criminal justice system.

It seems that Arkansas has a relatively new law making it a felony to "exchange sexually explicit material involving anyone under the age of 17" or to distribute, possess or view "matter depicting sexually explicit conduct involving a child." Arkansas Democrat-Gazette.

Now, don't get me wrong -- I don't have a problem with the law, per se. It's a perfectly acceptable function of government to protect children from  those who would exploit them, for whatever reason.  But, when government uses laws like this to punish children, it overreaches that function and sets young people on a dangerous path that can affect them for the rest of their lives.

Yep, the Jacksonville Police busted three young teenagers who had been "sexting" with one another and charged them with felonies. The sexted videos had been messaged to other kids, too. The kids are a 14 year-old boy and two girls, ages 13 and 14. In other words, they are young enough to be daredevils, ignorant of the law, and foolish.

I have a problem with enforcing laws upon a class of people the laws were designed to protect -- in this case, children under 17 years of age. At least the kids were charged in Juvenile Court instead of County Criminal Court. Hopefully the Juvy Judge will find a way to make this felony expungeable so these kids aren't stamped with a Scarlet "Felon" from the get-go and for the rest of their lives. Their reputations are already trashed. Even if the offense was committed by their own doing, they need to be made aware of the ramifications of the transgression without bearing the full clout of a felony.

The Legislature needs to work on this statute a bit -- give it some much-needed tweaking. But, oh nooooooo. They're too busy debating critical matters like the constitutionality of requiring Voter ID and whether we should have more biking paths.

Help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Moogie Cranks Up the BS-O-Meter: WoW!

So there's a "War on Women," is there?

Perhaps we should refer to the Meme of the Day as the "Reprise of the 'War on Women.' "  After all, the issue seemed to go dormant after the 2012 elections.  It seemed to have gone dormant, that is, at least until the 2014 mid-terms cranked up in earnest and the Left needed a hook to distract voters from serious issues. Railing on about a vicious War on Women sounds much sexier than defending Obamacare, or the IRS, or Benghazi. Or armed-to-the-teeth Federales waging a hot war on a cattle rancher in Nevada. Or the US role as a Global Super Power sinking slowly into the sunset with the Young President at the helm. Shall I go on?

The Wiki defines War on Women as "an expression in United States politics used to describe certain Republican Party policies as a wide-scale effort to restrict women's rights."

Oh. Republican policies.

*sigh*

Having lived and worked as a professional during a time when women's rights were genuinely restricted, or marginalized at best, and recognizing gender discrimination when I see it, I'm calling BS on this one.

Is there an imbalance between the wages paid to men and and those paid to women? I have no doubt. Is it caused by one's reproductive parts? Unlikely. It's more plausibly the result of differing skills, experience, and any number of other variables. Does it always smell "unfair?" Probably.

Would a shiny new (in addition to the laws and regs already on the books) Federal law prohibiting employers from paying men and women differently for similar work see an end to such practices forever and ever? If you believe that could happen, I'd like to offer you a ride on my prize-winning, thoroughbred race-Unicorn at a discounted rate. Just drop me a check in the mail.

It's difficult to believe that people are so shallow, uninformed, and gullible that they would jump onto this bandwagon. It's almost as difficult to believe as watching War on Women "opponents" prattle on about their cause with a straight face. They can't really believe what they're saying, can they? They have to know that it's all just a Game of Politics? District of Columbia Sleight of Hand. Hot-Button Pole Dancing. The Capitol Hill Razzle Dazzle.

Come on, people! You're being played for patsies. Grow up!! There are legitimate issues out there.

This Guy Ain't Exactly Mister Rogers

Just look at this sweet face, soaking in the warm, early-spring sun this afternoon.  Take a good, long look. Can you imagine this people-pleasing pup being guilty of doing anything to cause a human being any consternation?

I didn't think so.

Well, guess again.

Yesterday, Pepper and I were working in the backyard, getting ready for spring by raking up near-literal tons of leaves and sweet gum balls, and the dogs were "helping" us by transporting sticks from one spot to another, and playing in general as big dogs are wont to do. They wandered off every now and then, so we tried to keep up with their whereabouts and call them back if they strayed too far for comfort. 

Looking from the deck, this is part of the green space with a little creek running through it behind the house. You can imagine how big ol' Labradors would just relish romping around out there.

As we were packing up the tools and getting ready to call it a day in the clean-up department, Pepper whistled for Bouie.  At the same time, a neighbor we've never met (because they live on a street far away -- our backyard backs up to that green belt, as do many others from many other streets) yelled out, "Hey!!! Your dog is in my yard taking a pi$$!"

Seeing as how that's pretty much what boy dogs do, both of us were a bit taken aback, as you might imagine.

As you may have deduced over the years that there is a reason my husband's parents nicknamed him "Pepper," you might also imagine that the air might have turned blue in Pepper's general vicinity while he explained to the unneighborly neighbor just how the cow ate the cabbage. (Or, how the labrador hiked his leg.) But, the air retained its pure, clean hue.

Instead, a few long moments of silence ensued while my imagination worked overtime at lightning speed to try to predict what was preparing to explode form my soulmate's mouth.  But then, instead of spewing invective, he simply said rather loudly, "Oh. . . . Sorry."  Then he called Bouie again.

I was very proud of my Pepper for taking the high road.  Even so, we both had a hard time letting go of this episode throughout the evening.  I mean, Bouie didn't poop, or trample any plants, or "water" the guy's grill cover or anything! He aimed at a tree, for crying out loud!  I mean, it's still stuck in my craw today. What does that guy think the coyotes do back there?!?!  No one should use that tone with someone he's never met.  Nor with his best friends or acquaintances, for that matter.

Here's a view of the neighbor's "pristine" yard from the back rail of our deck:

Looks pretty special, huh?  I'm glad the trees will leaf out soon and we won't have to look at it until Fall.

While all the neighbors on our street are very nice, pleasant folks, the people on his street must not all fit that bill.  I have, therefore, decided to put this guy in the "a**holes I don't care to get to know better" category. He'll have to earn his way out of it.

What do you wanna bet that he's a progressive?

Sheesh.

Where is Ernestine When You Really Need Her?

We recently received in the snailmail an Explanation of Benefits from Aetna in connection with Pepper's little "procedure" back in December.  We received it a little late because, once again, it was mailed to Moogie's Mansion in New Orleans instead of to the Manor, here in Little Rock.

Pepper had tried to change the address several times online, but his attempts apparently never took.  So, with that vein in his forehead throbbing to beat the band, he "suggested" that perhaps it would be wise if I called Aetna to speak to a human being about the address change instead of subjecting said human being to the wrath of Pepper.

Thus, this afternoon, beginning at approximately 1:23 pm, I spent 15 minutes on hold with Aetna (2 full minutes of which were responding to prompts to push a certain number for a certain service). Then, after acquiring a live human being at long last, I was sweetly informed that Aetna doesn't accept changes of address; I'd need to do that through Pepper's former employer, Entergy.  Would I like her to give me that number?

No, Sweet-voiced Young Lady. I'd rather just take my chances feeding random numbers into the phone.  Of COURSE I'd like to have that number!

Then she had to put me on hold to find the number.

*sigh*

Once I was armed with the number to Entergy's HR & Benefits Department, I climbed up the next phone-prompts tree of pushing a certain number for a certain service. Fortunately I wasn't put on hold this time for too long, and was soon speaking to a very nice lady whose name I won't even attempt to spell.   As she was typing away on the changes, we chatted about the differences between New Orleans and Arkansas, and I bade her Happy Mardi Gras as we hung up at 2:01.

So that's how my afternoon has gone.  And here's how I feel about that:

TAKE THE FLIPPING ON-HOLD RECORDING AND FINE TUNE IT!!!!! Listen to it yourself every now and then to hear how it sounds.  If it's so scratchy and garbled that it sounds like it's being played on a Gramophone, FINE TUNE IT!!!!  CHOOSE SOME BETTER BACKGROUND MUSIC!!!!  Elevator music is for elevators from which you're fairly certain that you will be escaping shortly. DO NOT TELL ME REPEATEDLY THAT MY CALL IS "VERY IMPORTANT" TO YOU!!!!!!!! The fact that you've had me on hold for eons is proof positive that you don't give a good diddly squat about me or my call. If you insist on regularly interrupting the lovely background music, and getting my hopes up that I'm on the brink of speaking to a human being, simply tell me that you remain cognizant that I exist and am on hold in your queue; don't court me with your declarations of my import.

Whew. I feel better now.

I'd feel even better if businesses would just return to the days of having switchboard operators -- the sources of all information. Or, at least the repository of everybody's business.

Regularly Scheduled Maintenance

So, here's a teaser of that Alaska trip post (or posts!) to come, taken with my phone, no less:



Mendenhall Glacier, near Juneau.  Indescribable.

In the meanwhile, until I get enough discipline corralled to do the 50th state justice, I'd like to engage in a little too much TMI so you realize that this is "Semi-Old Folks' Maintenance Week" around Moogie's Manor. 

Today I'm on a strictly liquid diet and a fun, fun, fun (not) chugging beverage in preparation for tomorrow morning's routine groggy GI procedure.  I expect tomorrow afternoon will revolve around multiple naps and solid food.

Then, Thursday morning I can't apply deodorant or lotion so I can wear that interesting high-fashion gown and get The Girls smashed between those cold radiological plates.  You guys who think prostate exams are humiliating ain't got a clue.  Going through childbirth seems to take the edge off of the humiliation factor, though.  There's just something about the goods being exposed to a roomful of strangers that shatters a timid attitude.

Finally, Thursday afternoon the Roots get a thorough touching up, thus shaving years and many pounds off of the Moogie chassis. Trust me, it'll do the trick!  Just go along with me on this, okay?

Then, there's more football in the air for the weekend as SO-F Maintenance Week winds down.  Are you ready for a little Woooo Pig Soooieee and Who Dat!!

I love Fall.

Go get your maintenance done.

The Obama Campaign: Dilettantes in Paradise

My, my.  I haven't been around for quite awhile!  I must make up for that.

I've been stewing in something for a little while, and I think I've finally put my finger on why the latest Obama campaign fundraising scheme makes me so very livid angry.  You know the one I'm talking about -- the scheme wherein the Young President suggests . . . no, the scheme in which he outright asks you to forego birthday or wedding gifts, and instead suggest that your friends and family make a donation to his campaign in your name because that's a gift that "goes a lot further than a gravy bowl," and "it’s a great way to support the President on your big day."

For real.  It's called The Obama Event Registry.

First off, the traditional wedding gift to which the campaign so snarkingly refers is a gravy boat, not a gravy bowl.  Anyone with half an ounce's training in etiquette, protocol, or even common table manners knows what this is:

Who do they have running that campaign, anyway? A bunch of Occupy Wannabes?

Next, most everybody I know awakens on his birthday or wedding day and immediately thinks, "I wonder what I can do today, my special day, to redistribute some wealth support the president's re-election campaign?"  Sure!

But finally, what really galls my soul is this: the pure, simple, unending, unconcerned narcissism of politicians has finally gone over the edge with this one.  But this "idea" goes beyond the narcissistic; it approaches the tawdry.  Simple Narcissism was the cloak worn so ably and easily by former White House denizen, Bill Clinton. 

Example from personal experience:

Way back in 1992, when then-Governor Clinton was kicking his run for the Oval Office into high gear (after having told his Arkansas constituency in 1990 that he no longer had much "fire in his belly" to think about seeking the presidency, so please re-elect him to the Governor's Mansion and don't worry about him abandoning you in mid-term), I was teaching a grant-funded Summer Enrichment program for high school students at the UALR School of Law entitled, "L.R. Law."  (Remember the old tv series, LA Law? Yeah, bad pun.)  My staff (of one) and I had two weeks to immerse the kids in the legal system of central Arkansas, teaching them and exposing them to a little bit about trials, evidence, courts, and the criminal justice system.  The capstone activity of the program was Mock Trial, in which teams of students prosecuted a made-up civil lawsuit in teams -- the Finals were to be held in the rather impressive, refurbished Art Deco courtroom in the law school, and judged by law school faculty.  The kids were really excited about it and we practiced in the courtroom often so they wouldn't be quite so nervous.

Three days before the Finals, the Dean contacted me with an unexpected opportunity for the kids -- Bill Clinton was making a campaign stop in Little Rock and wanted to address a group of high school kids.  Since school was out of session, we were the logical go-to group.  Not being a huge Clinton fan, I must say that I wasn't exactly excited about the prospect.  After figuring out how to re-schedule the opening morning session the next day, while acknowledging that this could be a once-in-a lifetime chance for many of those kids to rub elbows with national figures, and knowing that "Clinton Time" was not called that for just any old reason -- he notoriously ran late to almost any event -- I gave in and told the kids about the opportunity to hear and ask questions of the sitting Governor and potential President of the United States.

He was in rare Clintonesque form and didn't disappoint -- the students were amazed when he called me by name as he was performing the ol' handshake/pat on the shoulder maneuver, and he asked how Pepper was doing.  (They both grew up in Hot Springs, and had also had some -- encounters -- during Pepper's National Guard service.  But that's another story).  He was charming and engaging and charismatic, listening to the mesmerized kids express their hopes and dreams for the future ("Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow" was played to accompany the local tv news pieces on the campaign stop -- of course). 

He also ran 1 1/2 hours late while I tried to figure out how to entertain 24 high school kids in the Law Library chosen by the Campaign for its scholarly appointments and commanding view of the Arkansas River, but not very conducive to conducting classes/exercises.  All in all, it was probably a good experience for the kids, even if it did frazzle me to the Nth degree. 

But, we were able to get in one final practice in the courtroom before the kids departed for the day. 
And, then, the Big But happened -- as I was kicking off my shoes in my office and preparing to tweak the next day's closing events, the phone rang.  On the other end was someone from the Campaign Scheduler's Office.

They wanted to use the law school courtroom the next day as a legal-ish backdrop for some nitpicky policy announcement to be made by Candidate Clinton.  And they needed it all afternoon in case they had to do several takes.  And they were very sorry about my kids, but were sure that, since the Candidate had spent time with them earlier, the kids would understand why they would now be performing their mock trials in the classroom instead of the impressive courtroom, replete with bench, witness stand, counsel tables, and jury box.  The Candidate would provide autographed photos to each child to assuage his disappointment.

And they left me to tell the kids.  Let me tell you what a roomful of deflated, dressed to lawyer-ize, high school kids looks like.  No, you don't want to know; it's too painful.

Then, the Candidate only used the courtroom for 30 minutes and I didn't find out about it until it was too late -- I could've juggled the schedule around that brief interlude and the kids could've had a much better experience.

And I've had little to no trust in the sincerity of any political candidate's expression of genuine support for education, and helping the little guy, and sharing the "stuff" with the common man ever since.  The expression "ringing hollow' doesn't come close to how those words echo in my ears.

So when the incumbent president asks young people to give up their biggest chance to start lives together with nice things -- or just with things that they don't have to buy -- in order to support his campaign . . .  I have to get up and walk around the house for a few minutes to cool off while typing this post.

Just Call Him Mayor Mary Poppins

But, he probably wouldn't prescribe more than a half-teaspoon of sugar substitute to help the medicine go down.



I have never been so glad not to be a resident of the Big Apple.  I suppose after his off-the-wall insistence that no soft drinks larger than 16 oz be sold in NYC, the next target for Mayor Bloomberg will be bun-length hot dogs.  You know -- if you eat hot dogs that are regular length instead of super-sized bun-length hot dogs, you won't ingest as much salt and fat, so we're from the government and we're here to make help you moderate your salt and fat consumption!

I always held my cigarettes up to the place where I'd cracked the window, even when there was no one else in the car, because I remembered being trapped in the smoke-filled backseat while both parents puffed away. I've been a non-smoker since 1987, and these days I don't particularly care for sucking up someone else's smoke, but I think banning smoking outdoors in parks or beaches is just way too heavy-handed.  It's now a primary violation (meaning the driver can be pulled over simply for smoking, even if he's in compliance with all other traffic laws) in Arkansas for adults to smoke in their own cars if they're transporting a passenger under the age of 14.  A primary violation!!!  Hell, failing to wear seatbelts isn't even a primary violation!  And I'm happy about that.

We're reaching a tipping point.  I just hope we stand up to some of these Big Brotherisms before we find ourselves bent over, kissing our individual liberties goodbye.

Like Jim Treacher at The Daily Caller, I kinda go along with the first New Yorker interviewed below about the new NYC sugary drink regulation:



Sheesh.

Wanted: Grown Ups To Populate the New Orleans City Council

We have quite the kerfuffle going on in the City Council, and very few of the Council members are acting their age.

It all started last summer when At-Large member Arnie Fielkow announced that he was resigning effective October 1 to assume the CEO position with the NBA Retired Players Association.  His departure left a vacant spot on the Council, and the usual suspects began circling their wagons in preparation for a brutal election to fill the spot which had been filled in the interim by a top aide to Fielkow.

Elections in New Orleans are nothing if not racially charged.  I know you're surprised to hear that. 

Fielkow is a white guy; Sanderson, the interim member, is a black guy.  When the dust settled after the primary in April, the run-off saw a white woman pitted against a black woman, both veterans of the Council, and it was a gloves-pulled-off, brutal, hair-pulling cage fight with a decidedly racial spin.  The final tally on election night gave the race to the white woman, Stacy Head, by a razor-thin edge of 281 votes.  It took several days before the black woman, Cynthia Willard-Lewis, finally conceded; Stacy Head was sworn in on May 2nd.

The Council immediately began debate on how to tweak the At-Large election procedure.  Naturally.  Priorities, priorities.

In the meantime, Stacy Head recommended a successor for her District B seat (which just happens to be the District that represents Moogie's Mansion), Errol George, a black guy, and he began interviewing with the other members, being led to believe that he was a shoo-in.

But, oh no.  This is New Orleans where we may call ourselves "The Big Easy," but we rarely do anything the easy way.

The Council was to meet for a regularly scheduled session on May 3rd and on the agenda were, among other things, amending the At-Large election process and the appointment of the interim successor to the District B spot.  After three members (all white women) changed their minds about voting for the new procedure, preferring instead to defer a vote until June to allow for more debate and public hearing, the measure failed.  And, up hopped Members Cynthia Hedge-Morrell (yes, we have lots of Cynthia Hyphenated-Names in New Orleans politics) and Jon Johnson (both black), and walked out of the chamber.

They walked out of the chamber, leaving in their wake no quorum for the Council to carry on further business.  Including the confirmation of Mr. George.  Among all the other city business.  They have yet to attend either regularly-scheduled or specially-called meetings since, offering lame-to-no excuse. 

Ms. Hedge-Morrell told the press yesterday that the change of heart about the election procedure voted on at the May 3rd meeting left her feeling "marginalized."  If the Council can't muster a quorum before June 1, the task of appointing a successor will fall to the Mayor, and it's looking like that's exactly what's going to happen.  Woo.  Hoo.

So, Ms. Hedge-Morrell is feeling a little put upon, is she?  Bless her heart.

Well, guess what?  Her childish antics, which effectively shut down all city council business -- some of which addresses some pretty heavy issues, including a proposed unnecessary, tremendous increase in sewerage/water fees -- are leaving Moogie feeling significantly worse than "marginalized."  Her behavior is leaving me feeling quite disenfranchised.  Literally.

I don't even want to get into Johnson's role in the whole thing.  He might just be the unwitting victim in a parish-wide cat fight.  But, he could be a brother and stand up for the other black guy who just wants to fill a spot on the Council until November -- when he'll even be ineligible to run for the permanent position.

I'm thinking we need a little adult supervision in the playground Council chambers.

Blogger Ate My Post!!

Seriously?  I went in to do one little edit, had a blank screen, hit publish, and the post went away?!?!

I'll try to re-construct it shortly, but I'm just a little too miffed right now.

Moogie 1, Thieves 0!

Ah ha!!!  Victory over the thugs is mine!!

Remember when we discovered the theft of our lawn mower (and other stuff) from our garage after Thanksgiving?  Remember how I bought padlocks and heavy chains to reinforce the gate closures?

They worked!

Since Pepper has been out of town for a few days, the Bouie-poop-walk duty has fallen to me.  As we rounded the corner and approached the gate on the side street this morning, I noticed the gate to the back courtyard looked a little whoppy-jawed (translation for those not fluent in Southern: misaligned; crooked; off-center).  Sure enough, upon closer observation, I found the tongue was out of its little slot, meaning that someone had tried to unlatch the gate, to-wit:

And, this time the miscreant thief couldn't simply reach over to unlatch the clasp!  The padlock held! 

Ah, the smell of victory over reprobates is sweet indeed!  But, it's also a little creepy to know that someone was trying to gain access to the yard while Pepper was gone and I was here alone.  Fortunately, I am armed with both weapons and a large black dog who loves me.  He loves to squish plants in the sun, too. 

Nonetheless, I'm glad Pepper comes home tonight.

This has been the strangest winter -- it never got cold enough, for long enough, to kill my potted jalapeno plant, and now it has set five flowers!  And last year's petunia just went a little dormant and has now exploded in purple blossoms!  It was just too mild to kill the annuals, I suppose, except for the basil, whose remains you see beside the pepper plant.

Or, maybe I've become a magical gardener.  Yeah -- I'll go with that.  I'm magical. 

You'd best beware Moogie the Magical, thieving scum, or I'll transform you into the literal slime that you are and deliver you up to Obama's algae-based energy experiments!  At least there you'll be among your own kind, and potentially productive, instead of just another leeching wart on the nose of society.

There.  I feel better.  Can you tell I overdosed on Harry Potter movies this weekend?
          

Your Government Thinks You're a Dolt

So.  NPR characterizes the Obamacare/Sebelius contraceptives regulation as follows:

This past week, President Barack Obama offered a compromise to his controversial requirement that faith-based institutions provide contraception in employee health plans. Under the new rules, religiously affiliated employers will not be required to offer free contraceptive coverage. Churches were already exempt. Instead, insurance companies would have to offer and pay for contraception.

The U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, while a bit wobbly at first, has now firmed up and declared the mandate to be a "nationwide government coercion of religious people and groups to sell, broker or purchase 'services' to which they have a moral or religious objection," and "an unprecedented attack on religious liberty."

Last week, while some in the liberal press were heaping praise on Obama as the Great Compromiser, I was scratching my head.  I never saw a "compromise" in the proposed regulations; the only shift I saw in the requirement to provide free contraceptives was in pocketbooks -- providing contraceptives moved from the employer's own purse to the employer's checkbook as he writes a check for insurance premiums, then to the insurer's pocketbook which is filled as he cashes the premium check, whose amount has gone up to cover the insurer's "hidden" increased costs.  Everyone will still have access to "free" contraceptives; however, we must bear in mind, as my Daddy taught me -- there is no free lunch.  Anywhere.  Ever.

When the headlines and pundits were screaming that Obama had won, and brokered a "save" for his mandate, there had been no actual "save."  There had not been any distinctive change at all to Government's dictate that we all not only purchase insurance, but that we also purchase insurance that covers what Government decrees.  Contraceptives will still be paid for by everyone through their premiums, even if they're not broken out by line item.  Trust me on this one. 

Did some people actually believe that, simply because there will not be birth control vending machines onsite at workplaces, those employers and employees won't be paying for them anyway?

I really don't have a dog in this hunt because I'm not terribly passionate about reproductive issues.  But -- come on, people!!!!!  Listen, and think!!!  This is little more than the next step by progressive liberals in their quest to protect us all because they know what's best for everyone, and simple people shouldn't be burdened with having to make their own decisions and choices.  And simple people certainly shouldn't be influenced by religious views because religion tends to be a little too steely in its dogma, and simple people certainly shouldn't be snookered into making a decision based on what their churches teach them.

The Supreme Court cannot hear the challenge to this whole tyrannical scheme too soon to suit me, but how much money will have been wasted, how many tears shed, and how much more divided will the nation be by the time an opinion is rendered?

If we still have a nation.

Sorry.  Today is a doom and gloom day.

The Shaking-My-Head, Not-a-Christmas-Post, Post

I understand that it's not past Thanksgiving yet, but this isn't really a Christmas post.  It's an "I can't believe the lengths some PC people will go to to pander to the religion of peace" post.  Are you ready for this?

The British Red Cross has banned Christmas from its fund-raising shops.  All 430 of them.  Because any celebration of the Christian holy day could offend Muslims.  For real.

This PC nonsense is so dumbfounding that it sucks all the oxygen out of the room.

I mean, seriously, their name is the Red CROSS!  You know, like the cross where Christ was crucified.

(The organization's symbol is a red cross on a white field, the inverse of the Swiss flag, where the International Red Cross was formed and is headquartered.  The Swiss flag's cross has its roots buried deeply in Christianity.  Shoot -- the crescent is used in arabic countries' flags and symbols, not to mention for the Red Crescent, and in arabic countries pretty much everything carries some sort of religious connotation.)

So, the fund-raising stores can't display Christmas trees or creches, but they can certainly sell Christmas cards to make a profit.  I wonder if they have to store the Christmas cards behind the counter like porn magazines.  Sheesh, give me a break.  I guess soon we need to be prepared for this:

Sorry. This whole thing has Moogie feeling rather peckish.

Some People Need to Break Out of Their Own Little Universe

If I had to choose one thing that makes that big vein in Pepper's temple swell and pulse to beat the band, it's encountering another driver who is talking, or texting, on a cell phone.  (Asian women drivers in New Orleans are a close second, but cell phones definitely win). 

I can usually tolerate chatting drivers, unless they're totally distracted and approaching me under head-on-collision conditions, but I saw something today that I. Could. Not. Believe.

I was sitting at a red light and heard/saw an ambulance coming down the four-lane cross-street with lights flashing and siren blaring.  There were several cars ahead of it, most of which were jockeying for position to get out of its way.  Most of them, that is, except for the lady talking on the cell phone and gesticulating wildly as she moseyed on down the road in her silver Altima, totally oblivious to the ambulance on her rear bumper.  I mean totally oblivious.

She didn't even react when the driver honked at her as he turned onto the side street where Touro Hospital is located.  I suppose Touro was its destination, and that tells me that it was loaded with someone in enough medical distress to summon an ambulance.  And with the cost of medical transport these days, there had to be plenty of medical distress involved to make that kind of investment!  And, although unlikely, that woman could potentially have cost that patient precious seconds in receiving life-saving treatment!

They say that what goes around, comes around, and that Karma is a bitch.  If that's the case -- and I do believe it is -- I'd say that we should all steer clear of the lady in the silver Altima for the near future.

Sheesh.  Some people.