Wednesday
Tea Party Commerical
This resulted from a Mom in Alabama asking her high school son to help with a commercial for the Tea Party she was involved in organizing. Boy, does it slam the message home. Very impressive.
Here is her note:
"I asked Justin if he could help me make a commercial for my group's Tea Party. He sat down at the laptop for about an hour, and then brought this to me and asked, 'is this okay, Mom?' After I finished watching it, my stomach was in my throat.
Everyone that I have sent it to has really enjoyed it, so I wanted my friends to see it. I am so proud!"
A very powerful video...turn up the sound & sit back...!!!
A fine example of the thieves who rule over us
The clock is ticking on tax cheat Charlie Rangel
By: Byron York
Chief Political Correspondent
September 1, 2009
It hasn't gotten much attention amid news of Ted Kennedy, Obamacare and the worsening outlook in Afghanistan, but an extraordinary situation is developing in the House of Representatives. With each passing day, it's becoming more clear that the powerful committee chairman in charge of writing America's tax laws is a financial wheeler-dealer, a serial asset-hider, and a tax offender.
Rep. Charles Rangel has been in the House since 1971. He's as old bull as you get in the Democratic hierarchy, and he waited through 12 long years of Republican rule to take over as chairman of the Ways and Means Committee in 2007. Along with Speaker Nancy Pelosi and fellow Democratic power brokers Henry Waxman and Barney Frank, Rangel is playing a key role in the effort to push the president's health care, environmental, and financial initiatives through the House.
Last week, we learned that Rangel filed a grossly misleading financial disclosure report for 2007 -- failing to report at least half a million dollars in assets.
It turns out Rangel had a credit union account worth at least $250,000 and maybe as much as $500,000 -- and didn't report it. He had investment accounts worth about the same, which he also didn't report. Ditto for three pieces of property in New Jersey.
Beyond that, we've learned that Rangel has failed to report assets totaling more than $1 million on legally required financial disclosure forms going back to at least 2001.
The news comes on top of revelations last year that Rangel didn't report -- and didn't pay taxes on -- income from a villa in the Caribbean. In that matter, the Internal Revenue Service gave him sweetheart treatment; Rangel paid about $10,000 in back taxes but was not required to pay any penalty or interest.
Rangel's doings are under investigation by the House Ethics Committee, which so far hasn't taken any action. Democrats are standing behind their chairman, and minority Republicans can't do anything about it.
But they're still trying. In February, the GOP introduced a resolution calling for Rangel to be removed as chairman. It failed, 242 to 157.
The Republican leadership also wrote a letter to Pelosi urging that Rangel "step down from his Ways and Means chairmanship pending an investigation of his ethical lapses." That went nowhere, too.
And then there is H.R. 735, also known as the "Rangel Rule Act of 2009."
The brainchild of Rep. John Carter, a Texas Republican who spent two decades as a judge before coming to the House in 2002, H.R. 735 would require the IRS to give everyone the same kid-glove treatment it gave Rangel.
The bill's title is modeled on something known in Texas as the "Hobby Rule." In the 1970s, Bill Hobby, then the state lieutenant governor, was pulled over for drunken driving. Hobby was taken to the police station, but when his attorney showed up in the wee hours of the morning, authorities simply let Hobby go -- no bond, no nothing. That special treatment became a precedent for future drunken-driving cases, as lawyers cited the "Hobby Rule" to demand their clients be freed with no questions asked, just like Bill Hobby.
Thus the "Rangel Rule." Under H.R. 735, if you're caught cheating on your taxes, you would pay what you owe, then write "Rangel Rule" at the top of your return, and you wouldn't be charged any penalty or interest. That way, Carter said when he introduced the bill, ordinary taxpayers would be "treated with the same courtesy that, it seems, the IRS is treating the chairman of the Ways and Means Committee."
Of course Carter's bill doesn't have a chance. Democrats undoubtedly see it as a joke. But the Rangel case is very, very serious.
If you don't think so, just look at this, from the front page of the Oct. 28, 2008 Washington Post: "Sen. Ted Stevens of Alaska, one of Congress's most powerful Republicans, was convicted yesterday of lying on financial disclosure forms to conceal his receipt of about $250,000 in gifts and expensive renovations to his house. ..."
Stevens' conviction was later thrown out because of prosecutorial misconduct, but the message was clear: This is the kind of thing you can go to jail for.
Rangel appears to have hidden greater sums of money than Stevens allegedly did. Democratic leaders don't want to face it now, but it's just a matter of time before they're forced to admit they have a serious Rangel problem.
Byron York, The Examiner's chief political correspondent, can be contacted at byork@washingtonexaminer.com. His column appears on Tuesday and Friday, and his stories and blog posts appears on www.ExaminerPolitics.com ExaminerPolitics.com.
Dear Peace Officer
I didn't write this, but I wish I had because I agree with every single word of it.
Read this snippet... and if you've got the spine, go read the whole thing.
You don't know me, but you see me every day. I may be a businessman, a truck driver, an executive. I could be a housewife or a salesman. But I am armed, as Americans have been for over 250 years, and I am determined to keep the freedoms that only an armed people may retain. With a rifle, I can hit a man-sized target at 800 yards. At shorter distances, in the blink of an eye, I can hit a head-size target with a handgun. I don't wear a uniform. I don't drive a marked car. I don't wear camouflage. I could be your own secretary, or your barber. I might be the guy who delivers your bottled water, or the parcel delivery lady. You don't know who I am, or what arms I have, and you never will. I am millions. I am America.
But I know you. I know your uniform, your car, and your work schedule. I know where you work, and where you live. And that is good for you, because not only am I no threat to you, so long as you do the job for which you are hired, I am also prepared to assist you when you are threatened. There aren't many of me left, you may think, but believe me, there are many, many more than you can imagine. When the chips are down, we are the ones who are truly on your side. On your side, that is, so long as you honor your Oath.
Read this snippet... and if you've got the spine, go read the whole thing.
You don't know me, but you see me every day. I may be a businessman, a truck driver, an executive. I could be a housewife or a salesman. But I am armed, as Americans have been for over 250 years, and I am determined to keep the freedoms that only an armed people may retain. With a rifle, I can hit a man-sized target at 800 yards. At shorter distances, in the blink of an eye, I can hit a head-size target with a handgun. I don't wear a uniform. I don't drive a marked car. I don't wear camouflage. I could be your own secretary, or your barber. I might be the guy who delivers your bottled water, or the parcel delivery lady. You don't know who I am, or what arms I have, and you never will. I am millions. I am America.
But I know you. I know your uniform, your car, and your work schedule. I know where you work, and where you live. And that is good for you, because not only am I no threat to you, so long as you do the job for which you are hired, I am also prepared to assist you when you are threatened. There aren't many of me left, you may think, but believe me, there are many, many more than you can imagine. When the chips are down, we are the ones who are truly on your side. On your side, that is, so long as you honor your Oath.
Building a personality cult for Obama
Even if you don't have kids in school these days, this should interest you. Obama is planning on speaking to all the school kids in America directly on September 8th. Go over to Sipsey Street and absorb what Mike has to say about this.
Of all that has happened under the Obama regime so far, this is BY FAR the most frightening thing I've seen yet!
Of all that has happened under the Obama regime so far, this is BY FAR the most frightening thing I've seen yet!
And I bet you thought this was a free country
White House Seeks to Capture and Archive Citizens’ Comments on its Facebook, YouTube, MySpace Sites
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
By Fred Lucas, Staff Writer
CNSNews.com) – Anyone who posts comments on the White House’s Facebook, MySpace, YouTube and Twitter pages will have their statements captured and permanently archived by the federal government, according to a plan that the White House is now seeking a contractor to carry out.
The Executive Office of the President is looking for a private contractor to capture and archive comments and information posted on social networking and new media sites where the White House has established a presence. While the Presidential Records Act (PRA) generally requires that the administration preserve information generated by the president and his staff, the White House says that in seeking to collect and preserve comments made by common citizens on social networking sites it is acting “out of an abundance of caution” to comply with the law.
Read the whole article here
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
By Fred Lucas, Staff Writer
CNSNews.com) – Anyone who posts comments on the White House’s Facebook, MySpace, YouTube and Twitter pages will have their statements captured and permanently archived by the federal government, according to a plan that the White House is now seeking a contractor to carry out.
The Executive Office of the President is looking for a private contractor to capture and archive comments and information posted on social networking and new media sites where the White House has established a presence. While the Presidential Records Act (PRA) generally requires that the administration preserve information generated by the president and his staff, the White House says that in seeking to collect and preserve comments made by common citizens on social networking sites it is acting “out of an abundance of caution” to comply with the law.
Read the whole article here
Tuesday
Make your politican PROVE he's pro-2A
David Codrea does it again! Here's his handy little questionaire you can use to assess anyone you're considering voting for. Send it to them by mail (or wave under their nose!) and see if you can get concrete answers!
1. Do you believe that the Constitution is the "supreme law of the land" and that the Bill of Rights acknowledges our birthrights?
2. If so, should these rights be proactively protected from infringement by all levels of government, including city, county and state?
3. Please give some examples of gun laws you consider constitutional.
4. Please give some examples of gun laws you consider unconstitutional.
5. Does the right to bear arms include the right for any peaceable citizen to carry them concealed without a permit, as in Vermont?
6. Do you believe that Americans have a right to own, use and carry weapons of military pattern, and will you use the prestige of elected office to publicly promote that right?
7. Do you support or oppose registration of weapons? Why?
8. Do you support or oppose licensing requirements to own or carry firearms?
Why?
9. What specific gun laws will you work to get repealed?
10. If elected, will you back your words of support for firearms rights up with consistent actions? How?
1. Do you believe that the Constitution is the "supreme law of the land" and that the Bill of Rights acknowledges our birthrights?
2. If so, should these rights be proactively protected from infringement by all levels of government, including city, county and state?
3. Please give some examples of gun laws you consider constitutional.
4. Please give some examples of gun laws you consider unconstitutional.
5. Does the right to bear arms include the right for any peaceable citizen to carry them concealed without a permit, as in Vermont?
6. Do you believe that Americans have a right to own, use and carry weapons of military pattern, and will you use the prestige of elected office to publicly promote that right?
7. Do you support or oppose registration of weapons? Why?
8. Do you support or oppose licensing requirements to own or carry firearms?
Why?
9. What specific gun laws will you work to get repealed?
10. If elected, will you back your words of support for firearms rights up with consistent actions? How?
The circle of life
Now, don’t go thinking this has any thing to do with Disney’s Lion King flick! This is another one of those personal remembrances that has (hopefully) some identification with modern life and its day to day turmoil.
A dear friend of mine and his wife just had a baby last week, and I love young’uns (as long as they’re well behaved, but that’s another story) so naturally my mind has been running along the lines of kids and how they grow up and become people that you either love or hate.
While in the process of pondering these mysteries, I was chatting with another friend of mine and recounting for him how my teenaged son wrecked my brand new four-wheeler a few months ago. And we got to chatting about The Parent’s Curse: you know, that’s the condition of having kids who behave about like YOU behaved when you were a young’un! Now let me tell you, this thing is REAL! I have two boys, aged 19 and 25, and they are without a doubt two of the most destructive creatures God ever put on this earth. Shoot! If you were to drop those two in the middle of Afghanistan tomorrow, chances are high that the war there would be over in about a week.
So dear reader, this should then give you insight into the childhood predilections towards destruction of yours truly: GunRights4US. I was just plain mean and destructive as a young’un. Now thankfully the fruit of my loins have not displayed the degree of meanness that was my stock in trade, but for sheer destructiveness they’re hard to beat.
Allow me to enlighten you. My oldest boy (DEVILMENT) has wrecked something like three cars so far, and that’s not counting the damage done when he crashed into the rear of his mother’s car when they were both getting on a freeway ramp. My youngest boy (MEANNESS) wrecked his own truck in my driveway one day while simply in the act of moving it out of my way! I needed to get out, and he had me blocked in. So I asked him to move his truck, and while I was sitting in my truck idling, he crashes into the pine tree at the end of the driveway!
MEANNESS is the one that wrecked my brand new four-wheeler and tried to play it off like nothing happened. The thing had less that 30 miles on it when he crashed it into a tree (hmmm is there a common theme here?) and tried to say that he’d merely run over a sapling. Turns out that it took over $2,000 to repair that little sapling’s damage!
I suppose I should relate at this point how my father came home one day, and walked over to me where I was playing and showed me a brand new ball-peen hammer he’d just bought. “Boy! Don’t let me catch you playing with my new hammer!” he says.
Weeeeellllll now….. that sure sounded like a challenge to ME! Being that nearly forty years have passed, I don’t rightly remember HOW I broke that hammer. Suffice it to say that I broke it within hours of its arrival at our home. And what had seemed a challenge BEFORE the damage was done quickly morphed into a major OH NO! after the damage was done. So I flung the broken hammer as far down into the back field as my strength would allow, and steadfastly insisted on my innocence when accosted later by the Dad.
Roll the clock forward about 15 years to a point where Daddy was near the end of his life, but he still managed somehow to get down in the field and plow a few rows to plant vegetables. In the process of harrowing the dirt he turned up the rusty hammer head with the broken fiberglass handle still sticking out. Though he was long past the point of spanking me, he still remembered the hammer and the accompanying lie about its destruction. I will never forget the shame of being shown the evidence of my deceit. Nor will I ever forget the twinkle in his eye barely hidden behind the faux frown.
There were many such incidents in my youth, the relating of which would fill volumes. Just as there are many similar incidents in the lives of my own sons. Wrecked cars, damaged lawn equipment, burned carpets, and other such things litter our lives and waste our dollars. I long ago gave up counting how many weed-eaters, lawnmowers, edgers etc. I’ve bought over the years, just as my father doubtlessly lost count of how many doors I broke down or gates I crashed through. “Doors you say?” Yeah…doors. Allow me to explain.
My father and brother both spent lots of effort frightening me with tales of the evil old man who had owned our house previously, and how he died there. I later learned that old Mr. Hankins was not evil, nor had he died in the house. But in my childhood, every strange sound in the house or among the outbuildings was ascribed to “Mr. Hankins”. On my older brother’s part the ruse was merely for fun. On my dad’s part, it probably was intended to keep me out of his workshop – something I was forever guilty of.
Once when Daddy had just put a HUGE new padlock on the shop door, I determined to find a way inside while he was away. I noticed that the wall in the back of the car garage did not go all the way to the roof, and I carefully climbed a pile of paint cans and made my way over the wall, and down into the shop.
Ahh success! But the joy was short lived. In the dark quiet loneliness of the shop, with the door locked from the outside, I heard the faint scratching sound of ….MR HANKINS! (A rat named Mr. Hankins in all probability). But oh the horror… the sound came from the area in the rafters I would have to climb back through. Couldn’t go back the way I came, that’s for sure! Oh well I think….I can just bust through the door from the inside, and figure out a way to repair it before Daddy comes home. Backing up to get a good head of steam, I dashed through the shop and crashed through the door. Come to find out the door was far weaker than I imagined, and it split half in two from top to bottom. Needless to say, so did my fanny when Daddy came home and found it!
Some other time I'll tell you how I tried to drill a hole through the neighbor’s floor from below with the intention of loosing a snake into their house. Or maybe I’ll tell about how I shot out their kitchen window with my first BB gun while the wife was standing there washing dishes. Or maybe I’ll tell about the punji pit I dug, complete with sh*t-smeared spikes sticking up that my other neighbor almost stepped in because I camouflaged it so well. Or…
Oh well, I think you get the picture. And maybe I should count my lucky stars that MEANNESS and DEVILMENT never reached such degrees of destruction in their lives as their old man did in his youth!
A dear friend of mine and his wife just had a baby last week, and I love young’uns (as long as they’re well behaved, but that’s another story) so naturally my mind has been running along the lines of kids and how they grow up and become people that you either love or hate.
While in the process of pondering these mysteries, I was chatting with another friend of mine and recounting for him how my teenaged son wrecked my brand new four-wheeler a few months ago. And we got to chatting about The Parent’s Curse: you know, that’s the condition of having kids who behave about like YOU behaved when you were a young’un! Now let me tell you, this thing is REAL! I have two boys, aged 19 and 25, and they are without a doubt two of the most destructive creatures God ever put on this earth. Shoot! If you were to drop those two in the middle of Afghanistan tomorrow, chances are high that the war there would be over in about a week.
So dear reader, this should then give you insight into the childhood predilections towards destruction of yours truly: GunRights4US. I was just plain mean and destructive as a young’un. Now thankfully the fruit of my loins have not displayed the degree of meanness that was my stock in trade, but for sheer destructiveness they’re hard to beat.
Allow me to enlighten you. My oldest boy (DEVILMENT) has wrecked something like three cars so far, and that’s not counting the damage done when he crashed into the rear of his mother’s car when they were both getting on a freeway ramp. My youngest boy (MEANNESS) wrecked his own truck in my driveway one day while simply in the act of moving it out of my way! I needed to get out, and he had me blocked in. So I asked him to move his truck, and while I was sitting in my truck idling, he crashes into the pine tree at the end of the driveway!
MEANNESS is the one that wrecked my brand new four-wheeler and tried to play it off like nothing happened. The thing had less that 30 miles on it when he crashed it into a tree (hmmm is there a common theme here?) and tried to say that he’d merely run over a sapling. Turns out that it took over $2,000 to repair that little sapling’s damage!
I suppose I should relate at this point how my father came home one day, and walked over to me where I was playing and showed me a brand new ball-peen hammer he’d just bought. “Boy! Don’t let me catch you playing with my new hammer!” he says.
Weeeeellllll now….. that sure sounded like a challenge to ME! Being that nearly forty years have passed, I don’t rightly remember HOW I broke that hammer. Suffice it to say that I broke it within hours of its arrival at our home. And what had seemed a challenge BEFORE the damage was done quickly morphed into a major OH NO! after the damage was done. So I flung the broken hammer as far down into the back field as my strength would allow, and steadfastly insisted on my innocence when accosted later by the Dad.
Roll the clock forward about 15 years to a point where Daddy was near the end of his life, but he still managed somehow to get down in the field and plow a few rows to plant vegetables. In the process of harrowing the dirt he turned up the rusty hammer head with the broken fiberglass handle still sticking out. Though he was long past the point of spanking me, he still remembered the hammer and the accompanying lie about its destruction. I will never forget the shame of being shown the evidence of my deceit. Nor will I ever forget the twinkle in his eye barely hidden behind the faux frown.
There were many such incidents in my youth, the relating of which would fill volumes. Just as there are many similar incidents in the lives of my own sons. Wrecked cars, damaged lawn equipment, burned carpets, and other such things litter our lives and waste our dollars. I long ago gave up counting how many weed-eaters, lawnmowers, edgers etc. I’ve bought over the years, just as my father doubtlessly lost count of how many doors I broke down or gates I crashed through. “Doors you say?” Yeah…doors. Allow me to explain.
My father and brother both spent lots of effort frightening me with tales of the evil old man who had owned our house previously, and how he died there. I later learned that old Mr. Hankins was not evil, nor had he died in the house. But in my childhood, every strange sound in the house or among the outbuildings was ascribed to “Mr. Hankins”. On my older brother’s part the ruse was merely for fun. On my dad’s part, it probably was intended to keep me out of his workshop – something I was forever guilty of.
Once when Daddy had just put a HUGE new padlock on the shop door, I determined to find a way inside while he was away. I noticed that the wall in the back of the car garage did not go all the way to the roof, and I carefully climbed a pile of paint cans and made my way over the wall, and down into the shop.
Ahh success! But the joy was short lived. In the dark quiet loneliness of the shop, with the door locked from the outside, I heard the faint scratching sound of ….MR HANKINS! (A rat named Mr. Hankins in all probability). But oh the horror… the sound came from the area in the rafters I would have to climb back through. Couldn’t go back the way I came, that’s for sure! Oh well I think….I can just bust through the door from the inside, and figure out a way to repair it before Daddy comes home. Backing up to get a good head of steam, I dashed through the shop and crashed through the door. Come to find out the door was far weaker than I imagined, and it split half in two from top to bottom. Needless to say, so did my fanny when Daddy came home and found it!
Some other time I'll tell you how I tried to drill a hole through the neighbor’s floor from below with the intention of loosing a snake into their house. Or maybe I’ll tell about how I shot out their kitchen window with my first BB gun while the wife was standing there washing dishes. Or maybe I’ll tell about the punji pit I dug, complete with sh*t-smeared spikes sticking up that my other neighbor almost stepped in because I camouflaged it so well. Or…
Oh well, I think you get the picture. And maybe I should count my lucky stars that MEANNESS and DEVILMENT never reached such degrees of destruction in their lives as their old man did in his youth!
Will you take the swine flu vaccine? Watch this before you answer
Also, the government recently granted legal immunity to vaccine makers and the officials who will administer the shot.
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