A friend posted this on Facebook, noting that he always loved Johnny Carson and Brigadier General Jimmy Stewart. Me, too, so I decided to watch to see what the attraction was.
I sort of wish I hadn't.
Then again, I'm glad I did -- I got to have a little bit of a catharsis -- smiling through tears. See what you think:
I re-posted it. This was my introduction:
"Oh, how I wish that it weren't true. I'll always love a dog named Bou.
And Jimmy Stewart.
I probably shouldn't have watched this."
And, yes I will always love a dog named Bou. And Rosie. And Wendy. And . . . .
This video is out of Chicago, from the ABC affiliate there. It depicts the arrival of a bomb-sniffing dog named Clia in the airport concourse after her retirement. She was surprised by her former handler who has been allowed to adopt her. Her sheer joy at seeing him, and his obvious love for her, are genuinely heartwarming. I get happy tears every time I watch it -- and I've watched it a lot!
After yesterday's slaughter in Paris I think we've all been a little numb. We sit here, jaws agape, mind reeling, feeling impotent and violated by the deaths and injuries rendered, yet again, in the name of the Religion of Peace. Unspeakable evil. Today, the City of Lights and the world watched as the Eiffel Tower went dark in honor of the slaughtered.
Pretty moving. But, wouldn't it have been just a teensy bit wise to arm the Paris gendarmes with something other than bicycles? Ah well. Judge not lest . . .
Anyway. The news today isn't all doom and gloom. No, indeed! There is very good news on the horizon: Barbara Boxer will be leaving the Senate after this term! That tacky, nasty, condescending hypocrite will be slithering out of the Beltway to "go home." After watching a hysterical video over at Lagniappe's Lair, I recalled a letter I wrote to the Senator a few years back after she stepped in the big middle of a fat faux pas, to-wit:
Senator Barbara Boxer 112 Hart Senate Office Building Washington, D.C. 20510
re: Your boorish behavior
Senator:
How high is that horse you're perched upon? What were you thinking when you, with a put-upon and exasperated tone of voice, challenged Brigadier General Michael Walsh's use of the respectful salutation, "ma'am," when addressing you? You stated that you "worked very hard" to acquire the title, "Senator," and preferred that you be addressed by that title. Well, la-ti-dah.
It's clear that you were not reared in a home that practiced and taught common courtesy, much less protocol. Perhaps you should study the State Department's protocol order of preference list, or that of the U.S. Army. In doing so, you would learn that, as a Senator, you outrank the good General in civilian affairs. He was giving honor and respect to you by referring to you as "ma'am," just as he would to a military member who outranked him.
General Walsh was doing your bidding, testifying to provide you with information about Gulf Coast restoration efforts. He was there at the invitation of your committee, so he was, in essence, your guest. Is this how you treat your guests? If so, I'm grateful that I'm merely a member of the great unwashed who will never merit an invitation to see you in action as a hostess; my husband is a retired Army officer, and I might be tempted by training and genteel southern tradition to refer to you as "ma'am." I wouldn't want to offend.
Your behavior, Senator Boxer, is that of the worst kind of feminist. Your behavior is the kind that causes the good ol' boys to smile and shake hands to your face, then laugh and refer to you by derogatory names in the men's room. Your kind of feminism makes it all the more difficult for young women to break into a "man's profession." I should know -- I watched your kind make it all the more difficult for me to gain the respect of my fellow attorneys a generation ago. I thought we, as a society, had grown beyond petty sniping between the sexes.
Or, instead of sexism, is it the military that is the subject of your disdain? Either way, take a breath and think before engaging your mouth.
Sincerely,
I got no reply, but I did get a blog post out of it! So, when I saw this video, I chuckled all the harder:
Priceless. I can't wait to see her in the rear view.
New Orleans police (they call themselves "cops") may have a slightly tarnished reputation about a few things (corruption, hair-trigger-fingers, and any number of other things), but when it comes to crowd control and "community policing," they shine. We had good experiences with the "Quality of Life" officer assigned to our 2nd District, and experienced quick responses every time we called them about trouble of one kind or another at Moogie's Mansion. Especially if firearms were involved. And, yes, there were a few incidents, but those are stories for another day.
There are a couple of videos circulating today that show off some of those community policing skills, with a New Orleans flavor. The first is a beat cop who joins in on the Mardi Gras fun, probably somewhere in Mid-City during Endymion's run. Rats. No embed code. Try this link to the nola.com videohere. Yeah! That works (after the stupid commercial, and it takes a bit to load so be patient).
The other one isn't as long, and it shows a Homicide Detective busting some moves. I found it at Lagniappe's Lair:
Pretty cool, huh?
You don't see that just anywhere. I think the Homicide Detective has a better command of the boogie skillz than the beat cop. Maybe there's a dancing component on the Detective's Exam. What do you think?
There's some good -- and some slightly disturbing -- stuff out there to steal today, y'all!
For those who are still in the midst of Polar Hell, this one was stolen from Harvey at Bad Example:
Or May.
And this one I found over at MacBourne's Musings(WARNING! Might frighten susceptible young children and those averse to rednecks.):
. . . "Like two raccoons fightin' over a biscuit." Quite an image, that.
And that reminds me -- I wonder what Brit-Brit has been up to lately?
Or Paula Jones?
See -- I told you there was some scary stuff out there.
Will someone please explain to me why Britney Spears even flittered across the surface of my mind, much less stopped off long enough to rise to the level of conscious thought? Sweet mystery of life.
I've been incredibly pre-occupied lately, with the house and Christmas and something else kinda exciting that I'll share in a few weeks, so I've been kinda neglecting Moogie's World and the blogosphere. I'll try to do better, but I can't make any promises, seeing as how I have done very little shopping, and we're getting ready to travel for the holidays, and we have a 10 week old black lab girl puppy!!!
This is the visual definition of cute (and hell on four large paws!):
Say hello to Mystic Roux (her mama's name was Roux), more commonly known as Mysti (or other "colorful" pejoratives, e.g., "you little fill-in-the-blank"):
She's getting the house training idea insofar as piddling goes, but we're still working on the poop angle. Bouie is very good with her -- he plays so gently with her. Perhaps he understands that she is his email-order bride and he needs to treat her right if he expects to wed her in a year or so.
She has gained over 3 pounds in two weeks, so she has an insatiable appetite. It's been pretty much a sleep-deprived, multi-ring circus around here since Thanksgiving (we picked her up on the way home from Arkansas). So, this video that appeared in my Inbox today was a calming, welcome pleasure. Just look at the children watching in awe.
Crazy times! Fortieth high school reunion over the weekend, looooong car trip yesterday due to several mishaps involving a satellite radio glitch, truck keys unremembered in Little Rock until we were an hour out of Little Rock (said truck having been left in Jackson, Mississippi, and needing to be picked up), an extra gas and potty stop (see "truck keys unremembered," above), and another brief stop so that Pepper could make his periodic contribution to the traffic treasury fund of Lake Providence.
The first POD arrived today (Man! Those things, and delivery system, are some kind of cool!) and needs to be loaded.
If the grandbaby hasn't arrived by then, I turn around and head back to Little Rock on Wednesday for an extended stay after they induce Elder Daughter on Thursday.
It was one-hundred-freakin'-nine degrees in Little Rock last Friday!!!
Bouie's a little freaked out and needy with all the commotion (and especially with all the extra stops on the trip home where he didn't even get to get out of the car, much less go swimming somewhere).
I won't even go to Aurora.
So, when I opened an email today that promised to give me a much-needed smile, and it really did, I thought I'd share it with you.
The Tea Party has put together a pretty awesome video featuring our Young President, and as you might have picked up on, I rarely use the word, "awesome." So it's that good.
Prepare to be amused. Sort of. Well, it would be amusing if it weren't so darned true.
Honor Flights is a national organization that transports WWII Veterans, free of charge, to Washington, DC, to experience the WWII Memorial erected in their tribute. It has been my pleasure to be amid the crowds welcoming home several Flights returning to New Orleans. We're losing The Greatest Generation so quickly.
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:
Now, here's something I probably wouldn't have suspected. Justin Bieber, BadAss, hangs out with Mike Tyson, Crazy BadAss.
Egad. Just seeing the words "Justin Bieber" and "BadAss" in the same sentence -- not to mention those words being being related to each other -- just shakes me to the core.
Back in 2010, a 26 year-old middle school assistant football coach wrote a country song, critical of the Young President. It's actually quite good!
I researched the song today, along with its ensuing kerfuffle, and found Michelle Malkin's report, published contemporaneously with what transpired.
The young coach sent a video of his song via email to everyone in his personal address book, which included several parents of students in his school. Enough of them complained to the school that the head coach was compelled to fire the aspiring songwriter for engaging in politically incorrect conduct, or some other such trumped-up personnel manual violation. I somehow missed it when the video first hit cyberspace, but, having received it today in my in-box, I'm joining the cause to make it viral again. Here's another spot to see it, and here's the -- appropriately titled -- "When You're Holding a Hammer (Everything Looks Like a Nail"):
I like it! Can't you just envision the Line Dance? Maybe Michelle could wear her "skinny jeans" and dance to it at a fundraiser in Nashville!
You'll probably see this again closer to November.
Self-righteous pantywaist has no clue about the meaning of valor. But, Bill Clinton (and, by extrapolation, our sitting president also) knows the political implications of a failed mission.
Like many blog buddies, I'm kinda in a blog-post desert right about now.
I didn't get a good enough picture of the squirrel sitting in the gutter on the garage munching camphor berries that I watched through the kitchen door today while having my own lunch, so there's one blown idea.
There's not much going on at Sophie Wright Institute for Academic Excellence because they're gearing up for Christmas break (but they do have a lighted and decorated Christmas tree in the second floor landing window!).
I don't have the energy to address the Young President's simple (minded) request that Iran kindly return our downed drone, if you please.
Sooooo, I think I'll go with "odd."
I ran across this video on a local news site, but there was no embed code so I looked it up on YouTube. It is set in Maryland where some clown rented this sign and placed it on the shoulder of a busy road. The city removed it "in the interest of public safety." One wonders what the dude who put it there was thinking.
It seems that Maxine Waters is awake. I speculate that she's awake because, if she's awake, she's talking. And, as you can see, she's indeed talking.
Well, perhaps "blathering" is a more accurate description of what she's doing. "That's life." Seriously?!?!
With the investigation into her startling lack of ethics ongoing, you'd think she'd lay low instead of stepping into the OWS sewer. I wonder when the outside counsel hired by the House Ethics Committee back in July will issue an opinion? Seeing Maxine get slapped around a little like Charlie Rangel did (or, a lot more than Charlie Rangel did) would make something nice to be thankful for!
Weren't the Occupy dudes supposed to have some big, hands-across-America-ish, nationwide demonstrations today?
Apparently, the New Orleans chapter either never received, or ignored, the memo. (Okay, it wasn't a memo, it was an email from MoveOn.org -- yes I'm still undercover!)
I was at City Hall this morning to speak to the Council and Mayor on Military Day about ESGR. City Hall is right across the street from Duncan Plaza where the Occupy folks (and their homeless chums who were run out of Duncan Plaza a few years ago, but seem to have found their way back on the coattails of the Occupy Cognoscenti) have pitched their tents (and the city, being ever-prepared for parades and parties, has set out several PortaPotties). There were a bunch of extra cops both in the entry area of City Hall and the Council Chamber, as if they expected a bunch of Occupiers to storm the seat of city government.
When I arrived and saw all the cops I actually grew a little apprehensive about being able to get out and to my car after the session without encountering a mob of foolish, fragrant people -- our session with the Council began at 9:30 and was supposed to last until about 11:30; the Occupy Show of Force was supposed to crank up at 11:00 near a sign erected on the sidewalk across the street. As I prepared to leave, I could see a sea of television news trucks through the front windows. Hmmmm, I thought.
Then, I walked outside. And saw this:
I think the news folk outnumbered the Occupy folk. Here are the PortaPotties.
This whole Occupy thing is starting to get a little amusing to us irrelevant people who live in flyover country. You know a thing has jumped the shark when The Daily Show starts gigging it:
Let us contemplate our forefathers and posterity, and resolve to maintain the rights bequeathed to us from the former for the sake of the latter. -- Samuel Adams
Envy is always referred to by its political alias, "social justice." -- Thomas Sowell
Curse you, Red Baron! -- Snoopy
The inherent vice of capitalism is the unequal sharing of blessings; the inherent virtue of socialism is the equal sharing of miseries. -- Winston Churchill
It's people! Soylent Green is people! -- Charlton Heston
