#283 - Math: New and Improved?

I've seen this story numerous times, but the punch line gave me a good laugh. I believe it really has gotten this bad. (Note: I took math in 1970, and I don't remember it being quite that forgiving.)

Last week I purchased a burger and fries at McDonalds for $3.58.

The counter girl took my $4.00 and I pulled 8 cents from my pocket and gave it to her. She stood there, holding the nickel and 3 pennies. While looking at the screen on her register, I sensed her discomfort and tried to tell her to just give me two quarters, but she hailed the manager for help. While he tried to explain the transaction to her, she stood there and cried.

Why do I tell you this?

Because of the evolution in teaching math since the 1950s.

Teaching Math In 1950

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price. What is his profit?


Teaching Math In 1960

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or $80. What is his profit?


Teaching Math In 1970

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80. Did he make a profit?


Teaching Math In 1980

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80 and his profit is $20 Your assignment: Underline the number 20.

Teaching Math In 1990

A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20. What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers.)


Teaching Math In 2006

Un ranchero vende una carretera de madera para $100. El cuesto de la producción era $80. ¿Cuantos tortillas se puede comprar?

#282 - Angelides vs. Trust

I've never trusted Phil Angelides. I have a natural dislike for most developers simply because they represent irresponsible growth in any community. Developers live by the "growth at any cost, but mostly in my pocketbook" credo that makes them such natural politicians. Angelides has always seemed to fit that mold.

Fetching Jen, who lives in the same neighborhood with the Angelides', gives me all the reason I need never to trust the man with my vote.

Not that I ever would have, anyway.

#281 - Gray Cells Still Dying Off...

I guess as anniversaries go this one deserves a decidedly low priority. Still, one might think that I would try to remember my own blogiversary. It was 2 years back on June 21.

And I'm still enjoying the ride.

You may have guessed by now that, beyond the usual bloggy reasons, I keep these blogs more as a form of personal history than anything else. I'm not the caliber of writer that might expect to sway public opinion through my clever use of word and phrase. Neither do I tend to wade into those areas of discussion that are so controversial as to guarantee much of an audience.

Hence the Woundup remains, as it always has been, my. own. space.

#280 - Touché

Baby Sis plays John Adams to my John Dickinson.

Guess I'd better stick with "bland" or "manilla" instead, hm?

#279 - Because We Can't Get Links Any Other Way

A very nice review from my brother, which naturally leads to one for my brother:

Cam has the benefit of a) the memory of a younger sibling, especially where sins of the elder sibling are concerned, and b) not being quite as close to 50 as I am. So it shouldn't really surprise me that he remembers my taking him for driving practice to Moorpark College. For those unfamiliar with the Simi Valley/Moorpark area, it's hilly country. In fact, one of Moorpark's more endearing nicknames is "Harvard on the Hill." Along the eastern border of the campus is an overflow parking area that was (note: past tense) perfect for kids with learner's permits. Especially kids with Volkswagens who were trying desperately to learn how to operate a clutch without rolling the car over in a turn.

It was only natural that I would take Cam out there for a couple of reasons. First, it was traditional. That's where Dad had taken me when I was learning how to drive. But Dad had maxed out on such fun the moment I got my actual license, so the job of training my siblings fell to me and Mom. And I usually wheedled Mom to let me do it because I was still enjoying being able to drive anywhere I wanted to go, so long as Mom or Dad would let me borrow a vehicle. So, I took my sister up there when it was her turn, and Cam was next in line. Then Moorpark College hired their own rent-a-cop agency and the tradition died on the vine.

Of course, I also remember letting Cam drive Box Canyon one day, and I do believe that was the first time my life actually flashed before me. Story for another day, perhaps.

It's also important to note (getting back to Cam's post) that, although I lived in that area for more than twenty years of my life, I never once hiked some of these trails that Cam has been trying out. It's a sad statement, I suppose, and the truth is that I now regret not having taken advantage of the opportunity when I had it. Simi Valley used to be a beautiful town. Back in the day it wasn't hard to find groves and orchards mingled in with the neat suburban tracts, and just to the west of our house were miles of trackless expanse, filled with enough tumble weeds to keep any young boy busy for days on end. And I don't mean clearing them. I mean making forts and clubhouses out of them. There was a wash running behind our tract that yielded more than a few attempts to turn pollywogs into frogs. (Far more failures than successes, I'm afraid.)

Those days are, of course, gone forever. Now Simi Valley is just another over-developed bedroom community. It has a "mall" now, along with its usual collection of strip malls and shopping centers. It has two or three primary industrial centers. What used to be a tiny, grass-covered air field has long since given way to several vanilla box-like warehouses.

Thus Cam has to head south to find trails that are still worth the effort. I would guess - in part from the photos he links - that once you're clear of the more civilized climes it's easier to imagine what Simi was like in its heyday, before the tracts that stretch literally from one end of the valley to the other, and before the freeway introduced us to the noisier, less refined elements of neighboring society.

So I applaud my little brother, and hope he continues to find peace in his travels. I certainly can't argue with his method. The time I spent in Guatemala, hiking up and down mountains that would swallow Simi Valley several times over actually gave me that kind of peace in my own life. I needed it, since I had companions that ranged from (literally) professional Boy Scouts, to KISS fans, to anti-Gringo Salvadorans. Peace did not always come easy, but a good hike was always sure to clear both head and heart.

Go, Bro!

#278 - Patriotism Is as Patriotism Does

I didn't think anything of the plastic flags that lined the walk leading to the church. They were just those cheesy little plastic flags that have become ubiquitous in cemeteries during holidays, and this was billed, after all, as a patriotic concert. Barely gave them a second glance as I hurried inside. My call was 5:30 for the concert, and I was already a half hour late.

Musically, the concert was unremarkable, really. Stuff I'd either done before, or was of the type that I could sight-read and perform after about two run-throughs. The choir was one of those pick-up choirs where folks volunteer (or, in my case, are guilted into volunteering), attend three or four rehearsals, and perform for a bunch of flag-wavers in your community. In other words, you weren't looking to hear the Dale Warland Singers here; you were more likely to think of Spike Jones.

The dividers at the back of the chapel open directly into the cultural hall, which had been decorated with a few dozen depictions of the American flag at various stages of design and purpose. Several of the "Don't Tread on Me" flags festooned one wall, while many versions of Old Glory up to and including our current 50 state flag surrounded the rest of the hall. At the back sat several tables where an honest-to-gosh ice cream social would await the audience.

The concert was hosted by our local LDS stake, but it was truly a community event. The chairperson of the event reminded me strongly of Eulalie McKecknie Shinn from "The Music Man." She had the kind of bearing that spoke to long hours of heading various committees - some probably by default - and getting the job done, or else. She gave all the appropriate recognitions, changed the program as required by circumstance ("The DVD honoring our Mr. and Ms. Senior Anaheim Hills has finally arrived, so we'll go ahead and show it now!"), and got the audience to clap as she announced every single committee chair and deputy chair ("And our fifth vice-chairman for the Arrangements Committee...!") that has had anything to do with this community's July 4th preparations.

Then came something that I knew was coming, but the intensity of which surprised me, I'm ashamed to admit. A sergeant wearing the beret of the 82nd, and who'd recently returned from Iraq, was introduced to the audience. The standing ovation he received was not entirely unexpected; this is, after all, a highly conservative part of a conservative county. But the ovation lasted for several minutes. Longer, indeed, than I would have predicted beforehand, and something that resonated with me for the remainder of the evening.

Suddenly, our little "Patriotic Community Concert" didn't seem so insignificant. Next up for the choir was a medley of all the anthems from the five major branches of the armed forces, wherein veterans of those who have served in those branches are invited to stand and be appreciated by the audience. And they were. There were vets from all five branches in attendance last night. Every one of them received hearty applause and even cheers from the audience. Personally, I have rarely been unable to articulate a piece of music because of a lump in my throat, but this certainly was the case during this part of the program. I was close to tears as we began each familiar anthem (excepting "Semper Paratus" for the Coasties... don't hear that one too frequently), and heard the clapping while watching several members of the audience stand to receive the praise and thanks of their neighbors. This sort of thing doesn't happen to me, darnit. I'm too professional to allow silly emotions to overwhelm a performance.

Or, perhaps, not.

The audience stood to sing "The Star Spangled Banner" and "America the Beautiful." Many of them were still able to sing all the verses from memory. The rest of the concert blurred its way past, and we suddenly found ourselves in the cultural hall, knocking back a cup or two of chocolate ice cream and mingling with friends. The first question on everyone's lips: "Where is everybody?"

It was a valid question. We've been advertising this concert for the last several weeks in our ward meetings, and several of us committed to join the choir after being informed that this was a chance to "mingle with the community" and demonstrate our commitment both to our town and our country. Four of us participated from our ward. About twice that many more showed up to listen. It's not that no one came; certainly there were plenty of people in attendance. But I had fully expected more from our own ward to come and support the concert. "Where is everybody," indeed.

Up to that point, I had been feeling somewhat redeemed. As a blogger who occasionally strays into socio-political discourse, it becomes so easy to take a cynical view of the world around me. I get bone-weary of the constant fights between conservative and liberal idealogues who couldn't have a reasoning discussion on any topic if their lives depended on it (which, fortunately for them, is not the case). I even wondered idly to myself in the minutes before the concert began whether we would be visited by protestors who would try to disrupt our goodwill for the sake of making themselves look silly while they got hauled off to jail.

People should have been there to hear the (short!) talk given by one of our city councilmen. He appreciated having this concert in a church, he said, because it serves to remind us that this country was founded on principles given to man by God (gasp!). He said the word "Creator" in the Declaration of Independence was not capitalized by accident. And these rights, endowed on us by Him, are being protected by the troops we were saluting that very evening.

A better speech I have rarely heard. He mentioned God no fewer than 10 different times in a talk that lasted barely 10 minutes. And he sounded like he meant it, too. It made me realize that I can't take responsibility for how other people view their citizenship in this country. I need to focus on my own efforts. I either support this nation, or I don't. But I can only improve my own efforts, and pray for others to see their own way clear to help.

As we left the building last night, we proudly sported our new blinking flag pins. They cost us $5 each, but the money was needed to offset the slight budget shortfall for all of the events planned for the 4th. They were only $1500 short as of last night. I hope we got them much closer to zero with our donations.

Walking out into the still-warm evening air, I noticed the flags lining the walkway. Simple, plastic, cheesy flags.

They've never looked better.

#278 - Benedict Would Be So Proud

Tensions are high in this country. It has been said that the country hasn't been this divided since the days of the Civil War. Indeed, I speak today of a crime that should offend the sensibilities of all who consider themselves to be loyal to this country. Patriots should publish tales of this crime in the highest courts of justice, and denounce the perpetrators in the halls of Congress. The Chief Executive of the nation should demand that punishment be swift and terrible; a warning to those who would also provide aid and comfort to the enemy.

Treason, you say? Absolutely. Those responsible are well deserving of the epithet "traitor." They have openly despised the country to which they owe their allegiance. They have endangered our democratic way of life, and may even have placed lives in jeopardy.

The criminal?

Albertson's.

The crime?

Giving in to the marketing Nazis who decided that Americans would be satisfied with half gallons of ice cream that are not true half gallons.

It started with the big name labels. Dreyer's. Breyers. Haagen Daaz. Over the last several years they have gone from true half-gallon sizes to a container that holds (prepare to be enraged) one cup shy of a true half gallon! And what are we paying for this privilege? Surely you can guess. More than we paid for a full two quarts! Unless they're on sale.

I had for some time taken comfort in the thought that the grocery stores were holding out. Even though the name brands had long since gone to this new marketing nightmare, the store brands remained at the good ol' American half gallon size. The container itself was comforting; akin to scoring a round number in bowling (preferably 300), or having round numbers in your bank account (preferably $5 million). Having a half gallon in the freezer meant being able to say, "You want some ice cream? Well, I've got a half gallon in the freezer." Now what do I tell my guest? "Ice cream? Sure. I think I've got a one and three-quarters of a quart container in the freezer."

I don't think so.

It also means I can never again satisfy my wife when I go shopping. "Be sure to get a half gallon of ice cream, Honey," she'll say. But can I deliver? I can not. "Sorry, Honey, I could only find those wimpy faux half gallons that are really one cup shy of the mark."

I'm sorry, but this is tantamount to the old communist plot to convert everything in this country to the metric system. Young readers will not remember this farce. We were suddenly required to remember what a "kilometer" was (not as long as a mile, I can tell you). Fortunately, we got smart after about five years of a half-hearted effort to be more like Canada. I mean, think about it:

Half Gallon

• Sounds American


• More bang for the buck


• Conservative

1.75 Quarts

• Sounds Canadian


• More buck for the bang


• Probably Communist

I of course recommend that the Attorney General immediately begin an investigation. Probably Congress should get Albertson's executives in closed session and ask about price gouging. And none of this namby-pamby "whatever the market will bear" nonsense that we let the oil execs claim, either. This has nothing to do with economics. This is a declared war against traditional American values.

Now, before I get lots of bleeding-heart comments telling me how insensitive I am to the environment, or whatever, let me remind you of one thing:

I don't care. I want my half gallon back.

Now.

#277 - A Traitor By Any Other Name

Or, really, just two. The New York Times and the Los Angeles Times. Heaven forbid we should question their patriotism, but this crossed far too many lines.

This has nothing - repeat, NOTHING - to do with the public interest. This is about selling papers. Their desire to become their own headline has once again compromised national security, and they should be treated as enemy combatants.

On a more personal note, at least now I have some fresh ammo to use the next time a Slimes-outsourced solicitor contacts me about subscribing. "No, sorry, it's against my religion to subscribe to a paper that endangers national security."

#276 - Way Off Bass Coins New Phrase

"Elevator Savant."

And you just know that most of the idjits who write that stuff get play time on "smooth jazz" stations.

#275 - Al Qaeda Replaces al-Zarqawi

Al Qaeda in Iraq have appointed a new leader to replace retiring leader Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, it was announced by al-Jazeera yesterday. To make for a smooth transition and avoid a possible leadership vacuum, Al Qaeda yesterday turned to U. S. Democratic Party Chair Howard "The Duck" Dean. Dean, coming off of stunning primary victories last Tuesday wherein no Democratic party candidates were caught vandalizing their opponents' offices or vehicles, quietly assumed control of the misunderstood insurgency last night in a simple ceremony.

"Avoid these safe-houses," he was told, having been handed a map with several large red X's on it. "We're pretty sure the ones circled in green are still ok." Three green circles were visible, according to sources close to the ceremony.

Dean was characteristically enthusiastic about his new duties. "This is a real opportunity to galvanize young insurgents to make their voices heard. Or, failing that, to blow themselves to kingdom come and blame the failed Bush administration for it."

Dean indicated that at least part of the $3 million being offered by deep-pockets Democratic supporters in the United States to encourage young Americans to vote Democratic would, instead, be diverted to special Swiss accounts earmarked for support of training camps in the Iraqi desert. "We need to show these young terrorists that the United States cares about them, and wants them to have every opportunity to succeed. If their vision of success is 72 virgins in Paradise, who are we to judge?" Dean told reporters after his swearing in.

Dean's appointment comes as a surprise to many Al Qaeda experts, particularly in Iraq. "It makes absolutely no sense," said one Iraqi observer. "Dean is the Infidel of infidels. He represents one of the worst Zionist nations on earth. Of course, he's no friend to Israel, but how can we possibly trust this capitalist dog?" Others were more cautious. "Give him time, I say," said one young college student. "He may turn out to be the best weapon against the Zionist American administration yet."

Still others were less gracious. "This man has failed every campaign he's run since his disasterous run for President," one man told al-Jazeera. "What makes him think he can fill al-Zarqawi's shoes?"

The White House has declined comment.

#274 - Attention, Dave Barry:

We're not absolutely certain, but we'd like to bet that Government grants were involved.

(Hat tip: Mrs. Woody)

#273 - Cavalier Attitudes Towards Life

Drudge yesterday had a teaser regarding this heinous attitude toward human life in, of all places, Great Britain. (Warning: will increase blood pressure. It sure increased mine.)

I know that California (or, as I like to call it, Californicate) has long held the reputation for either housing or creating every socially deviant practice and/or reprobate since the Flower Power movement. I suspect the reputation is well deserved based on the current crop of politicians that we've inflicted on the country, including Feinstein, Boxer, and Pelosi. Given their track record of being diametrically opposed to everything that I believe in, I still harbor some hope that even these die-hard feminist right-to-choicers would be shocked at the practice of engaging in late term abortions merely because some relatively minor defect had been detected in the fetus.

California no longer stands alone. Great Britain pioneers designer babies.

This callous disregard for the sanctity of human life is just the latest evidence of the evil that is abortion. I know some folks still choose to live in the gray moral area of wanting this to be strictly a choice for the woman involved, but that gray area is destructive. It enables this cold-blooded practice and turns those who engage in it into equally cold-blooded killers.

Killers.

I make no apologies for this label, and refuse to back down from my belief. In this case, abortion for cosmetic reasons is nothing short of first-degree murder, and those responsible should be held accountable. They will, of course, be held accountable later, whether we choose to enforce it or not. And the results will be most unpleasant for them.

Here's the bottom line: Those who would abort otherwise perfectly healthy children because of a cosmetic defect should never reproduce. Ever. We don't need more people like them in this world.

So, to those who feel abortion is strictly a matter of choice: You can deride us for our policies and practices. You can mock us for engaging in a war against terrorism. You can accuse us of being arrogant in the extreme. You can taunt us for our refusal to grant sacred status to the environment.

And we can point the finger right back at you for aborting mostly healthy babies.

I just found a new impetus for Memorial Day. God bless the innocent who were never allowed to live.

#272 - It Can't Be a Good Thing...

...when the LASlime and I agree on something.

I would have voted no anyway, primarily because I see no reason to set up taxpayer-funded babysitting services. The Slime points out mostly that this is badly designed legislation. They actually support the idea of pre-school, but they bemoan the usual problems: dilution of the existing teacher pool, unfair advantage for "privileged" kids, etc.

My problem with this idea is that parents are entirely too eager to get their little ones out of the house. I see absolutely no benefit to yanking a four-year old away from Mom, cutting their innocent childhood that much shorter, merely so the California Teachers Association can whine for more money and more "qualified" teachers.

Give it a rest, Reiner.

#271 - Reading the Signs

The surest sign your immigration policy is the wrong one.

This has been your Save the Republican Party From Itself® public service announcement for the day.

UPDATE:

Exhibit B.

#270 - Stupid Xanax

[Over at The Inner Dad (my alter blog-ego), I described my recent heart problems and joked about how taking Xanax made me feel. Here, in an exclusive for the Woundup, I describe how I really feel:]

I cannot, for the life of me, figure out how anyone could get addicted to this junk. I was reading up on Rush Limbaugh, for instance, and I discovered something. He spent an hour in jail last month for obtaining prescription drugs without an actual prescription (you know how snarky these cops can get about such things), and among the "stash" were 50 Xanax pills. My exact prescription amount!

For a moment or two I began to worry that I, too, might fall like the mighty Rush. Could it be that I would become a Xanax junkie and begin trolling doctors' offices looking for unattended prescription pads? Then I'd have to admit my addiction on national radio and spend, what, two or three days in jail (only rich people like Rush get away with an hour). This is no way to live.

Then I took a Xanax, which is supposed to alleviate anxiety symptoms. The doctor prescribed this on the off chance that my heart palpitations might be due to anxiety. I'm not entirely certain just what "anxiety" really means. I'm not under any more stress than usual, really, and the idea that I get overly nervous about any one thing or combination of things just doesn't click.

Anyway, I took the stupid pill. I'd decided to wait until about 6:00 that evening because it's a six hour dose, and I figured that once I got to sleep I'd be just fine. Then I sat and waited. First thing I noticed was that the palpitations continued their merry course all night long. They come and they go at their leisure, and when they found the Xanax patrolling my veins their first thought was, "Huh. Xanax. Always wondered what that looks like." Then they ignored the medicinal sentry and continued thumping around in my chest region.

Mentally I felt nothing. Not even that "you wanna set fire to the house? Go ahead" kind of feeling that I'd always heard accompanied drugs like Xanax. I might add here that if you give me a Darvocet, I'd spill my guts to whatever terrorist happened to be in the Dentist's office with me. So Xanax had, like, zero net effect.

Until I went to sleep.

I tossed and turned all silly night long, and had dreams of the sort that I used to think only happened to people who lived through the Sixties. I woke up at least five times that night. Consequently I wasn't feeling terribly well rested the next day for work. I decided to try the Xanax again the next day, just to give it a chance to redeem itself. I took one earlier in the afternoon, then another one just before bed. Once again I had a very restless night (if not quite as restless as the previous one), and finally decided that Xanax was a huge fraud.

I wondered again how someone like Rush Limbaugh - who arguably has a complete array of pharmaceuticals at his disposal, for a price - could possibly get hooked on this stuff. Then I read a little deeper in the article. Along with his 50 Xanax pills, he also scored 40 release-time morphine pills (release-time?? Good grief.), 90 OxyContin pills, and 1,733 hydrocodone pills. In other words, he had enough narcotics on him to stun a rhinoceros in mid-charge. No wonder he got hooked!

So now I feel better about things. Xanax may or may not be completely useless. I don't really worry about getting addicted. I'm going to save them for those episodes that seem to get really uncomfortable, rather than take them every time I feel them start, as the doctor suggested. My fifty pills may last me the better part of the year at that rate. And, of course, there's always the possibility that the cardiologist will find out just what the heck is wrong with me and fix it so I don't need the Xanax anymore.

By the way, another reason for not taking Xanax unless I really have to is that I tried to go all day and night yesterday without them. I still had a rough night. In fact, without the Xanax it was worse, really, which makes me wonder if I'm already having to go through some sort of withdrawal. Not unlike my caffeine withdrawals a couple of years ago.

So, I repeat: I don't see how anyone with half a brain-stem left could possibly get addicted to this stuff.

Stupid Xanax.

#269 - Cam Turns Two!

A happy belated 2nd blogiversary to my little brother and blog-father Cameron of Way Off Bass!

Give him a look-see and yank his poetic chain a bit. He'll thank you for it later. Really.

#268 - You Woke Me Up for This?

Driving in to work this morning, the local radio talking heads were all aflutter over the NSA compiling a massive database with every phone call logged through three of four major telecomm companies in the United States.

[yaaaaaawn]

Pardon me. Bit sleepy this morning.

Anyway, seems the NSA, along with wiretapping calls to or from suspected terrorists, have also now - 'scuse me...

[yaaaaaaaaaaawn! Goodness!]

Sorry! They've been compiling this data with only one major company, QWEST, refusing to play along. Something about privacy laws, or some such thing. All I can say... all I can... sorry!...

[YAAAAAAWN!!]

Oh, gosh, I'm tired this morning.

As I was about to say, I really don't know what the big deal is. It's always disturbed me that the phone companies themselves even track my phone calls to begin with. Opening my phone bill (back in the day when I used to get printed phone bills) was a little like watching Big Brother tell you exactly why you were being punished. After a while, though, you get... get... wait...

[yaaawn!]

[slap!]

That feels better.

Anyway, you sorta get used to it after a few years. Where is this any worse or more invasive than your average identity theft? If anything, I feel better about the NSA having my phone calls in a database than I do about some employers regularly losing personal data on stolen laptops so crooks can access my bank accounts and help themselves to my vast fortune of - lessee now - about $200.

In any case, I don't know why this should shock anyone these days. Has nothing to do with national security, anyway. Unless I'm mistaken, the NSA could only have gotten this data from one of two sources. The phone companies...

...or telemarketers.

On balance, I think I'm grateful they're getting it from the phone companies.

Pardon me. I need to [yaaawn] take a quick nap.

#267 - Congratulations, Dan Brown!

When a major religion runs roughshod over your book (and upcoming film), it's a pretty sure bet you're about to make more money than you ever dreamed possible.

Yeesh.

#266 - California Republicans Not Serious

The Republican Party of California seems to have a hard time taking state politics seriously lately. In fact, this malaise has lasted for, oh, about the last 20 years or so. The surest indicators of the Party's laissez-faire attitude are the candidates we keep running against the Liberal Twins in the United States Senate.

Field Poll:
If the election were held today, would you be more likely to vote for Dianne Feinstein or Dick Mountjoy?

Dianne Feinstein, or... I'm sorry, did you say "Dick Mountjoy?"

WHO??

Actually, I was gratified to see this poll question in the Orange County Register today, because I had no idea we even had a Republican candidate for Senate in this election. Here I was assuming that Feinstein would win this one on a bye. Yet, no doubt about it, there is a Republican challenger ("challenger" is a rather generous term as it applies here) to Feinstein. He even has a web site. Bold as brass, this guy is. You can surf right over to "mountjoyforsenate.com", get a randomly selected scripture, and find out all about our conservative answer to DiFi.

He even says some conservative-sounding stuff. Things like "we don't need new immigrations laws, we just need to enforce the ones we have." Okay, sounds about right. In fact, here's a trivia fact for you: Mountjoy was one of the sponsors of Proposition 187 a few years back that was so popular in about 15% of the state. Seems we slipped that one by the liberal voting bloc in that election, and they had to go to the trouble of having it shot down in Federal Court because they fell asleep during the campaign and the pesky voters (it's always something with them!) actually approved 187 which was supposed to deny benefits to illegals, but instead became something of a windfall for them as evidenced by their renewed insistence lately that, even though they're here illegally, they have, you know, rights and everything and are entitled to all the money we Americans have so they can send it back to their real home in Mexico. Or something like that. Whatever it did, we have Mountjoy to thank for it, apparently.

The problem is, until I read that poll in the newspaper (or, more accurately, on its web site), I never would have known that we even had a candidate for Senate, much less who he is. Or claims to be. I dunno... "Mountjoy" is kind of a suspicious sounding name, no? Isn't that a candy bar or something?

Anyway, once again we find ourselves facing a primary election without a serious challenge to the incumbent Demoliberal who wishes we conservatives would just quit going to church altogether so her job would become a lot easier and she could go ahead with her plans to officially change the wording of the Star Spangled Banner to read, "O, say, does that Star Spangled Banner have to wave o'er the land of the free? Or could we, you know, fly the Mexican flag instead? Don't they deserve it?"

Maybe the next time a seat becomes available, the Republicans will finally find a serious candidate for Senate.

Sure. And maybe Cindy Sheehan will remember that, like it or not, she's still an American.

Or not.

#265 - Immigration Is a Family Issue

ZeeDad (Woody's step-dad, actually) emailed his thoughts on the recent travesties of flying the American flag upside down, underneath the Mexican flag. It happened here in Southern California (natch!) on March 28 as a student protest over the proposed immigration legislation. Since he sent his thoughts to me and my brother, I can only assume he was looking for a bloggy response. He'll get one, regardless. I've cobbled together his two emails so the narrative will flow better:

Last March 28th, a gathering of students in the region of Whittier CA apparently decided that they should demonstrate their feelings about the Federal Immigration bill by leaving their classrooms and going to the flag pole of Montebello High School. There they proceeded to haul down the US flag, place it upside down and raise it again, flying under the Mexican national flag.

We've seen this blogged elsewhere. Michelle Malkin posted the one picture a few times, but it bears another look:

My reaction to it is fairly predictable. Had I been there, I would have become more violent than anyone who knows me would ever expect that I could. I served nearly ten years in uniform, and the experience leaves one with a rather forceful devotion to one's flag and country. This action, however childish and ill conceived it was, is insulting and infuriating to people like me, times ten.

I finally have to acknowledge that the silent majority has been silent far too long. If Hispanics believe they can make themselves heard by taking a day off across the nation, maybe we who disagree with them should also take a day off (the 15th of May should do nicely) and finally demonstrate what the majority view really is.

Beware the Ides of May??

And just to leave no doubt in anyone's mind, I would be glad to join a picket line in front of the local Hispanic Advocate's Center to make the point. I'm so steamed right now that nothing I propose would carry very much weight with those who can take a rational view of the situation, but I'll take a shot anyway.....

No "rights", benefits, protections, privileges or posessions should be guaranteed to any alien or sympathizer who cannot abide by our laws and provide taxpaying support to our government at each level. If citizenship is their objective, they should accept the obligations of that role or be expelled.

And yes, it will really help their cause if they can find a way to show their appreciation for freedom of speech by not abusing it with demonstrations like this. Speaking the language of the nation they seem so determined to belong to would help their cause, too. It should be a requirement for citizenship. Could I be a compliant, useful or supportive citizen of Japan without a knowledge of that language?....now that's really pushing the envelope.

When is crap like this finally going to irritate decent people enough to do something decisive? Good thing I don't own an assualt rifle....even grey panthers still have some teeth. [More than I do, I daresay. - Ed.]

Aside from the fact that my saintly step-dad used the "c" word (oh, the humanity!) I find his arguments have a familiar feel to them. Very similar, in fact, to sentiments that I've already expressed here and here.

It boggles the imagination that the current policies of this administration have put their constituents in a very awkward position. Come November, we have to vote. We can't vote for another President, so that's out of the question. But every single member of the House of Representatives will be fighting for his or her seat, and our own Governor must now take his case to the people. Problem is, we no longer have assurances that our representatives at any level of government are willing to take the stance required to resolve the immigration situation once and for all.

So far, we're having a hard time finding Republican politicians with the gumption to stand up to the President and insist that our concerns be addressed. Suddenly granting 12 million people some form - any form - of amnesty is ridiculous, especially as the vast (unreported by the MSM) majority of them seem to feel that to be labelled an "American" is somehow insulting. That's certainly the sentiment relayed to us by the upside down flags, or "Los Angeles, Mexico" billboards.

If the people who are determined to live and work here illegally really want to feel oppressed, let's make it illegal for them to send their money back to Mexico to support the Mexican drug cartels and fund the retirement accounts of countless coyotes. Let Vicente Fox deal with his own problems, for a change.

So, ZeeDad, more power to ya. Since I know you need your peace and quiet, I won't point you to this post by Michelle Malkin regarding reporting of Minuteman activities and whereabouts to corrupt Mexican officials. Wouldn't want you splitting a seam anywhere.

Give our love to Ma, please!