Archive for February 22nd, 2009

February 22, 2009

‘My mind immediately focused on Rule 5 . . .’

. . . says Elder of Ziyon, as he brings us Arab babes. So everybody on Rule 5 Sunday must now do a Rule 2 and link him.

Alas, the Elder is insufficiently learned in the sultry ways of the daughters of Ishmael — or, as I call them, “Gee hotties” — for he hath neglected the ultimate in Arabic babehood. Gentlemen, in hope of a lasting agreement, The Other McCain is proud to present: Miss Egypt 2006, Fawzia Mohamed:

It’s part of my Mideast Piece Initiative, and I think that men of goodwill everywhere will agree that this ought to be occupied territory.

February 22, 2009

Instapundit does . . . show tunes?

In linking to a story about Larry Summers allegedly screwing up the Harvard endowment, we find Professor Glenn Reynolds employing the phrase, “The country’s in the very best of hands.”

Having starred, at age 14, as Pappy Yokum in the Douglas County (Ga.) High School production of the Broadway musical “Li’l Abner,” I recognize this as the title of a song (by Johnny Mercer and Gene de Paul) from that show:

The Treasury says the national debt
Is climbing to the sky
And govermnent expenditures
Have never been so high.
It makes a feller get
A gleam of pride within his eye,
To see how our economy expands,
The country’s in the very best of hands.

Now, it is a matter of fact that I majored in drama, so I’ve got an excuse for knowing lots of Broadway lyrics. But Professor Reynolds is a law grad. What’s up with that, Dr. Helen? I mean:

  • When you started dating him, did you notice any Judy Garland posters at his apartment?
  • Does he download Streisand on his iPod?
  • If you happen to be in a department store when the Muzak plays a Rodgers and Hammerstein tune, do you hear him muttering under his breath, “. . . and 6, 7, 8 — kick — 2, 3, 4″?
  • When guests arrive at your house, does the professor greet them by saying, “Wilkommen, bienvenue, welcome?”

NTTAWWT. I’m so unmistakably macho that I don’t mind bursting into an occasional a capella rendition of “Til There Was You.” And I believe John Podhoretz has been known to cite “The Street Where You Live.” But if the professor is A Guy Who Likes Show Tunes, he needs to come out of the closet about it, don’t you think?

“. . . our favorite American group, Sophie Tucker.”

UPDATE: Welcome, Insty readers! Yes, the armchair psychologists like to accuse us Guys Who Like Show Tunes of overcompensating by swaggering displays of heterosexuality. Insty married Dr. Helen to quell those whispers in the faculty lounge, and I’m a happily married father of six kids who feels compelled to follow up his Chorus Boy camp routine by gratuitous babe-blogging. (Click that link, you sissies — I dare you!)

UPDATE II: In the comments, the irrepressible Kathy Shaidle — who’s working her diminuitive self to exhaustion trying to get deported from Canada as a one-woman human rights violation — informs us that Mark Steyn is all about the show tunes. Which may explain why he didn’t appreciate the irony of this lame gag. Or worse yet, maybe he did appreciate it. (Foghorn Leghorn: “That’s a joke, son! A joke, ah say!”)

UPDATE III: Moe Lane manages to work in a sly Ghostbusters allusion. Yeah, he’s thinking it’s Oscar night, and Bill Murray got ripped that year — not even nominated!

February 22, 2009

$1 Million a Day for 2,000 Years

That’s still less than Congress just spent on the Obama/Pelosi/Reid $800 billion “stimulus” plan.

Powerful video from The American Issues Project, which has a 35-page PDF with the facts about the “stimulus.”

February 22, 2009

Israeli Cultural Primer

“Quick synopsis of every Jewish holiday: They tried to kill us; we won; let’s eat.”

February 22, 2009

More PJTV talk

Saturday, I did a blog post at The American Spectator reacting to recent criticism of PJTV. A couple of guys pinged back: Andrew Dodge and Danny Glover, so you can see what they had to say . . . about what I had to say . . . about what other people had to say.

Well . . . what do you have to say?

BTW, if you’ve done any commenting over the past couple of hours and it hasn’t been approved yet, don’t sweat. My son’s due back from Ohio today and I’m probably on my way back from BWI Airport by now. The past few hours have been autoblogged posts (written in advance and postdated) with the intent to keep burglars thinking I’m actually at home blogging when I’m not. So maybe I’m home now. Or maybe I’m not.

Comment moderation and Rule 2 FMJRA’s will resume shortly.

UPDATE 3 p.m.: OK, now I’m actually home. Alive. On the way back from the airport, we stopped somewhere in Howard County to get McDonald’s, and the 16-year-old boy says, “Hey, Dad, how about letting me drive.” To which I agreed in a grand gesture of paternal magnanimity. And foolishness. But mostly foolishness.

Now, I began teaching the kids to drive when they were 12, and we’ve got those hillbilly NASCAR genes, so even though the boy has only had his learner’s permit a few weeks, I have a fair degree of confidence in his automotive skills. There were, however, two problems with this scenario:

  • My son has never driven on the interstate; and
  • Mrs. McCain was in the car.

Now, I deeply love my wife, but she is not a very good passenger. She thinks I drive like a maniac. And is correct. But I’m a safe maniac; it’s that hillbilly NASCAR thing.

We’ve been married 20 years and I’ve driven a gazillion miles in that time without ever being responsible for an accident. (Years ago, I got rear-ended by a toothless meth-head woman with no license or insurance. Last year, I had my front end scraped by an idiot girl who ran a redlight.) Yet every time she gets in the car with me, my wife relentlessly criticizes my driving and wonders aloud that I haven’t gotten myself killed driving so crazy.

Well, Junior takes the wheel and we get out on the road. I instruct him how to set the cruise control, give him helpful tips, etc. His mother is mainly concerned that, if at all possible, he should never change lanes. And under no circumstance is he to obey that Y chromosome’s orders to hop into the left lane, jam the pedal to the floor an cruise 80 mph all the way home. A dynamic tension is present, and it’s his first time driving on the interstate.

We did OK most of the way, until we found ourselves behind a Food Lion truck coming out of Frederick, with two mountains — Braddock and South — over the next 16 miles. If the boy had obeyed his Y chromosome, he’d have been left-laning it with nothing to worry about, but Mom was in the back seat on the verge of a heart attack, so the Y-chromosome was stifled.

As we began the ascent of South Mountain, the Food Lion truck was still ahead of us. We were doing a little over 60 mph in a 65 zone. Cars doing 80 were flying past on our left. Past the Middletown exit, a slow-truck lane opens up on the right, and the Food Lion truck got over. Which is when we saw the Subaru station wagon that had been ahead of the truck.

The Subaru was driven by an elderly man with his wife in the passenger seat and, as we ascended the mountain, the Food Line truck in the right lane actually started pulling ahead of the Subaru. It was a rolling roadblock situation, basically, and now there was a more of less solid line of cars filing past on our left, working their way around this 50-mph vehicular obstruction in the right two lanes.

We approached the crest of the mountain and I see the yellow sign: “Right lane ends 2,500 feet.” That’s roughly half a mile and, judging the comparative progress of the Subaru and the Food Lion truck, I’m saying: “No way.” That truck will have to merge somewhere. He doesn’t have the power to pass the Subaru, and the geezer at the wheel of the Subaru is too freaking clueless to realize he should speed up to get ahead of the truck. Whiich meant, we had about 40 seconds to get to our left, or we were going to be driving into serious trouble.

I’m calculating this and, attempting to remain calm, am explaining this to my son while checking the left-lane traffic for an opening. My wife is not attempting to stay calm. But as we close in on that “lane ends here” point, I spy a gap on our left and yell: “OK, Bob, get it!” and then, “Punch it!”

He accelerates into the gap, but there’s an Aspen SUV bearing down on him, which freaks him out, so he tries merging over to the right a bit sooner than was absolutely safe. Which is to say he cut off the old geezer in the Subaru with about 4 feet to spare. All of which is accomplished with my wife screaming in the back seat and threatening to kill me if we survive the final 5 miles home.

We made it. I live to tell the tale. And the moral of the story is: When you take your son out driving on the freeway, it should be a male-bonding Y-chromosome experience.

And I love my wife.

February 22, 2009

DC Tea Party at CPAC

Dan Riehl has the news about planning for an anti-tax, anti-“stimulus,” anti-Hope protest to be held in Washington this week, so go there and find out how to sign up.

For the past two months, that “CPAC 2009: Register Now!” button has been featured prominently on my sidebar. If you’ve never been to CPAC, you owe it to yourself to go. It’s a right-wing Mardi Gras, with a little bit of infield-at-Talladega thrown in for good measure. Imagine it: 5,000 conservatives in one hotel, with speakers like Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter and RNC Chairman Michael Steele, plus the Pajamas Media “Conservatism 2.0” Conference with Glenn Reynolds, Michelle Malkin and more.

If you’re a conservative, CPAC is like Disney World. The exhibition hall is full of cool displays, book signings, T-shirts, and bumper stickers. There’s Radio Row, where you can watch guys like G. Gordon Liddy and Kirby Wilbur broadcast live. And of course, there’s Blogger Row, where you can — believe it or not — watch the Ewok-looking Ace of Spades doing his blogospheric voodoo.

Myself, I’m usually somewhere near the lobby, schmoozing. It’s amazing who you can meet in the lobby of the Omni Shoreham during CPAC. You’ll be strolling through the lobby, look up and say to yourself, “Hey, isn’t that . . .?” And sure enough, it is: Phyllis Schlafly or Mark Krikorian or Elaine Donnelly or Don Feder or whoever. The lobby bar is a whole ‘nother scene unto itself.

The parties! The receptions! The hordes of College Republicans! The VodkaPundit vs. Little Miss Attila Martini Debate! Jason Mattera! Michelle Lee Muccio! (Yes, she will be there.) If you miss it, you’ll regret it only once — and that will be for the rest of your life!

“But Stacy, I have to work. I can’t just drop everything at short notice and fly off to D.C.”

Look, you wienie, it’s simple: When you go into work Monday, find some excuse before lunch to go into your supervisor’s office and, while you’re talking to him, just sniffle a little. In the afternoon, make sure you cough once or twice an hour. Not too much, but just a little. And if anybody says anything about it, just say, “Oh, it’s nothing.” They don’t know that Sunday afternoon you already went on Travelocity and booked your flight and hotel for D.C.

Now, Tuesday: Bring a box of Kleenex and some Hall’s Mentholyptus Cough Drops with you. Put them on your desk and use frequently. You’re coughing, you’re sniffling, you’re blowing your nose. But when they ask you about it, say, “No, no, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. Just a minor cold. . . .” At lunch, though, tell the boss you’ve got to run to the drugstore and pick up some Sudafed. “Just in case.”

Needless to say, about 2 or 3 o’clock, you announce to your co-workers that the chills, the aching in your bones, the dizziness and nausea have finally convinced you that maybe you’re coming down with something. And, besides, you’re needed at home because your wife just called to say they closed your kid’s school at noon. Something about viral meningitis going around . . .

That’s it — and Wednesday morning, you call in sick, you’re off to the airport, winging your way to the nation’s capital for the wildest three days you’ve spent since the spring break in college when you and your frat buddies made that road trip to Panama City Beach.

And hit the tip jar: Advice like this is worth $20, and the L.A. Gin Monster’s coming to town.

February 22, 2009

Frenchifying America

“Swedenized,” “Weimar America” — call it what you will, Obama and the Democrats are trying to turn us into a European social-democratic Welfare State, Daniel Mitchell says.

February 22, 2009

Obama’s Durban agenda

Carolyn Glick in the Jerusalem Post:

[S]ince the stated purpose of the Durban II conference is to oversee the implementation of the first Durban conference’s decisions, and since those decisions include the anti-Israel assertion that Israel is a racist state, it is clear that the Durban II conference is inherently, and necessarily, anti-Israel. . . .
[B]oth the State Department and the White House must realize that they are powerless to affect the conference’s agenda is because that agenda was already set in previous planning sessions chaired by the likes of Libya, Cuba, Iran and Pakistan. And that agenda includes multiple assertions of the basic illegitimacy of the Jewish people’s right to self-determination. . . .

Read the whole thing.

February 22, 2009

Rule 5 Sunday

In obedience to Rule 5 of “How to Get a Million Hits on Your Blog,” it’s time to bring the hotness. With a big old hat-tip to Pirate’s Cove Sunday pinup series, here is the infamous inaugural link list of shameless babe bloggers:

Most bizarre contribution to Rule 5 Sunday? Bob Schieffer at CBSNews.com:

    Via Hot Air, where Allahpundit asks, “How did CBS beat Fox News to the punch on this? Don’t Andy Levy and Steve Doocy read this site?” Hey, Bob’s got an eye for quality.

    Finally, of course, I must make my own contribution to the collection, with this photo of The Hottest Woman I Know:

    Yes, that’s my lovely bride at age 27. She swears she’s still only 29. She’s inarguably still hot, however. And I’m sure I’ve got that 1990 swimsuit photo around here somewhere . . . Maybe next Sunday.

    UPDATE: Dan Collins of Protein Wisdom got the memo late, but he definitely got the memo.

    UPDATE II: The Jawas got the memo, too, but maybe Jawas can’t read so good, so there’s no random hotness there. Yet.

    UPDATE III: “Bring the hotness”: The No. 1 cause of global warming from Conservatives4Palin. Also, Jules Crittenden predicts the Oscars.

    UPDATE IV: And, of course, Pirate’s Cove brings the old-fashioned naughtiness. Think about that. You’re about two Googles away from . . . well, anything. And yet those 1940s pinups are really so much more interesting, aren’t they? Some fundamental principle of human nature must be involved. What is it?

    UPDATE V: Elder of Ziyon brings the Arab hotness, forcing me to retaliate with the ultimate “gee hottie.” This is escalating out of control.

    UPDATE VI: Danica Patrick airbrushed?

    February 22, 2009

    Draft Schiff movement grows

    Look at this “Draft Schiff” site, trying to recruit financial expert Peter Schiff as a Republican challenger to Sen. Chris Dodd (D-Corrupt) in 2010. Via Eric Dondero at Libertarian Republican, who’s been following the Connecticut drumbeats.

    This phenomenon, I would suggest, is why some hawks in the GOP were wrong to diss the Ron Paul movement as harshly as they did. Paul was always solid on economic issues — much better than John McCain from a free-market perspective (or any other perspective, for that matter).

    The Paulistas are jazzed on Schiff, and if you can knock out a Democratic kingpin like Dodd with a free-market guy like Schiff, anything else is gravy, baby. Crazy? It’s exactly crazy enough to work. Shiff was one of the first to predict the collapse of the bubble, and now he’s predicting the “stimulus” will lead to economic disaster.

    Can you say, “libertarian populism“? Tea Party U.S.A.? With Congress pissing away borrowed money like there’s no tomorrow, now is the time to fire up that hard-core Spirit of ’94 message. If you want to argue foreign policy, fine — let’s do that after we return Chris Dodd to the private sector.