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Ok, I don’t know how many “parts” there are going to be on this topic, but I suspect that this won’t be the last.
Last week I got irritated that one of Obama’s first acts as President was to implement a ban on off-shore oil drilling. How can a person stand up in front of the entire world and give an inaugural address in which he states that one of his goals is to decrease our dependence on the foreign energy sources of America’s enemies, then turn around and essentially shoot us in the foot by limiting our ability to access our own energy sources?!?!?!? This INCREASES that dependence AND cuts jobs!
This morning, he gave a 10 minute speech on changing our energy sources and decreasing our energy consumption. Those are great goals, but his actions say differently, so far.
Just this morning, Obama himself said that there’s a need for “urgent action” on the current “economic crisis.” He’s right about that. What this economy needs RIGHT NOW is a defibrillator! Yet none of his proposed plans do anything to stimulate the economy RIGHT NOW!
He’s proposing a $7 TRILLION dollar plan that does absolutely nothing to create new jobs that would replace any of those lost. (By the way, this is DEFICIT spending, which is what Democrats and fiscally conservative Republicans were griping about under the Bush Presidency.)
Producing better schools and making college more accessible is a worthy goal. But education spending is a focus on the future – NOT the here and now.
Creating cleaner, cheaper energy sources is a worthy goal. But again, that is a focus on the future, not on the here and now when people are loosing their jobs and their homes.
Obama’s “tax cuts” are nothing more than thinly disguised welfare.
Obama’s insistence that government is the answer to our problems is just stinkin’ thinkin’! It’s government that got us in the mess in the first place! How about getting out of the way and letting the Free Markets work the way they’re supposed to to get us out of this mess?
Other countries don’t want the US to implement the Fair Tax. Because WHEN we do, they’ll loose all those jobs and businesses and capital that had previously left the US for those foreign shores. Not only that, but more businesses will move to the US because it will offer a better tax environment – even for non-US companies!
Visit my earlier post about the FairTax.
More importantly, please visit the FAQ page of the FairTax.org website to get more details about how the FairTax would be a better stimulul plan, and to see what you can do to help!
Just for fun…
A woman and a baby were in the doctor’s examining room, waiting for the doctor to come in for the baby’s first exam.
The doctor arrived, and examined the baby, checked his weight, and being a little concerned, asked if the baby was breast-fed or bottle-fed.
“Breast-fed,” she replied.
“Well, strip down to your waist,” the doctor ordered.
She did. He pinched her nipples, pressed, kneaded, and rubbed both breasts for a while in a very professional and detailed examination.
Motioning to her to get dressed, the doctor said, “No wonder this baby is underweight. You don’t have any milk.”
“I know,” she said, “I’m his Grandma, but I’m glad I came.”
I keep hearing on the news all these “rosy-outlook-everything’s-gonna-be-great-from-now-on” reports about the upcoming inauguration and Obama’s plans for our future. And it would just about make a person forget all about how he’s just leading this country another step closer to Socialism (Marxism, if he has his way). It all sounds so rational and hopeful and reassuring.
Until you stop listening to the PEBO-butt-kissing media and look at the details for yourself. (For those of you who don’t know, PEBO is an acronym for President Elect Barack Obama.) When I hear reports about the means by which he plans to stimulate the economy, my questions are always the same: “And this actually stimulates the economy how? This creates real jobs how? This is a sustainable means of economic growth how?”
Then I listen to Neal Boortz and my questions are validated:
The truth behind the the fancy words.
Here’s a story you’ve probably seen before. I think it’s worthy of posting here because it serves as an example of so many qualities I’ve noticed are disappearing in our culture. Diligence (according to good ol’ Webster: perseverance and care in work; hard work done carefully), living and teaching by example, integrity. My parents and grandparents lived by an honor code that is not found in today’s generations. Today people tend to live as if there are no consequences. They expect the government to save them from their bad decisions.
Yes, I’m pointing the finger at myself, too. Although I don’t think ANY one is going to save me from my bad decisions, I do tend to forget that my actions have consequences not just for me, but for my family as well.
When times are tough, are we diligent in our actions? They do speak louder than words…
The Pickle Jar
The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents’ bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar.
As a small boy I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar. They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.
I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate’s treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom window. When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank.
Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck.
Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. “Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son You’re going to do better than me. This old mill town’s not going to hold you back.”
Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly, “These are for my son’s college fund. He’ll never work at the mill all his life like me.”
We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. “When we get home, we’ll start filling the jar again.”
He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar. As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other. “You’ll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters,” he said. “But you’ll get there. I’ll see to that.”
No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar.
To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make a way out for me. “When you finish college, Son,” he told me, his eyes glistening, “You’ll never have to eat beans again – unless you want to.”
The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed.
A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had always stood. My dad was a man of few words, and never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith. The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done.
When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me.
The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad’s arms. “She probably needs to be changed,” she said, carrying the baby into my parents’ bedroom to diaper her. When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes.
She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room. “Look,” she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, as if it had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins… With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak.
This truly touched my heart. I know it has yours as well. Sometimes we are so busy adding up our troubles that we forget to count our blessings.
Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person’s life, for better or for worse.
God puts us all in each other’s lives to impact one another in some way. Look for Good in others.
The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or touched – they must be felt with the heart ~ Helen Keller
- Happy moments, praise God.
- Difficult moments, seek God.
- Quiet moments, worship God.
- Painful moments, trust God.
- Every moment, thank God.
I often dream that I’m flying. Sometimes I have excellent control as I float through the air. Sometimes I’m fearful of falling and barely keep from hitting the ground. But I’m never going this fast…
wingsuit base jumping from Ali on Vimeo.
(Originally posted on this blog December 18, 2008, lost & recovered on January 9, 2009.)
For the past – what? three? five? – years, the Christmas season has been accompanied by protests over its very existence. Atheist are offended by the very celebration of “Christmas.”
They’ve tried to change the name of the celebration.
They’ve tried to remove all symbols of the celebration.
What they’re actually trying to do is remove CHRISTIANITY from the face of the Earth! Well, I don’t have time to go into that here and now. Let’s suffice it to say, “Go ahead and make a bigger fool of yourself.”
I just want to add my 2¢ to the current topic…
Why are Atheists attacking Christmas? Because they don’t believe in God, much less his son, Jesus.
And they are perfectly within their rights to believe or not believe as they choose. After all, this country was started by people seeking refuge from persecution – especially religious.
Remember, in the Motherland they were actually killing people for not believing, or at least practicing, the state-endorsed religion. In some countries Protestants were being executed (sometimes officially, sometimes not), in other countries it was Catholics, in others Jews. That’s why the Third Article of the Bill of Rights states:
“Congress shall make no laws respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the rights of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for redress of grievances.”
Do I REALLY have to explain in modern terms what this means about the freedom to worship, or not worship, as the individual, or group, wishes?
What Athiests seem to forget is that their rights end where they infringe on the rights of others.
Christmas is a Christian holiday. It is also commonly celebrated by non-Christians because it’s FUN! You like fun, don’t you?
Yes, our modern-day celebrations have borrowed some elements from other religions and festivals. That doesn’t mean that us Christians don’t keep in mind the Reason for the Season, nor the Christian symbolism of those borrowed secular elements.
Nobody’s telling Jews not to celebrate Hanukkah.
Nobody’s telling Africans not to celebrate Kwanzaa.
Nobody’s telling Muslims not to celebrate Ramadan. (Before anyone comments, yes, I know it’s not necessarily celebrated in December!)
Yet it’s perfectly alright to tell Christians that we can’t celebrate Christmas. It’s perfectly alright to trample all over the individual and collective rights of Christians that are supposedly protected by the Third Article of the Bill of Rights, just as everyone else’s is.
So… If YOU don’t want to celebrate Christmas, don’t. Nobody’s forcing you to.
You can celebrate the “Winter Festival” if that’s what you want it to be. And you can celebrate it in any way you like. Well… as long as your celebration is a peaceable and lawful one. No human sacrifices or public orgies – both of which would violate all sorts of city, state, and federal laws! 
Hey… go jump in an icy lake if that’s what you feel like!
But stop trying to infringe on the rights of Christians by telling us we can’t celebrate Christmas! If someone tells you “Merry Christmas,” take it for the good wishes that are intended and get your panties out of a wad. Don’t you think Christmas is stressful enough without you adding to it by taking offense with well wishes?
(Originally posted on this blog December 20, 2008, was lost & recovered on January 9, 2009.)
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn’t loud, and it wasn’t too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn’t quite know, Then the
sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked without fear,
‘Come in this moment, it’s freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!’
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts.
To the window that danced with a warm fire’s light
Then he sighed and he said ‘Its really all right,
I’m out here by choice. I’m here every night.’
‘It’s my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I’m proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ‘ Pearl on a day in December,’
Then he sighed, ‘That’s a Christmas ‘Gram always remembers.’
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ‘ Nam ‘,
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I’ve not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he’s sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue… an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.’
‘So go back inside,’ he said, ‘harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I’ll be all right.’
‘But isn’t there something I can do, at the least,
‘Give you money,’ I asked, ‘or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you’ve done,
For being away from your wife and your son.’
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
‘Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we’re gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.’
PLEASE, would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many
people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our U.S service men and women for our being able to celebrate these
festivities. Let’s try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us.
LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN
30th Naval Construction Regiment
OIC, Logistics Cell One
Al Taqqadum, Iraq
So, this bird walks into a store…
A seagull in Aberdeen, Scotland, has developed the habit of stealing Doritos from a neighborhood convenience store.
The seagull waits until the manager isn’t looking, and then walks into the store and grabs a snack-size bag of cheese Doritos. Once outside, the bag gets ripped open and shared by other birds…
Get the true story on Snopes.com.
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