Saying What Needs to be Said

Say what you will about Mitt Romney, vote for or against him, but he's actually said something that makes me sit up and take notice.

A few days ago, this 30-second spot appeared on Mitt's web site. I found it primarily because Drudge linked it for a few days, and one or more news wires gleefully picked up on Romney's "Republicans need to clean their own house" theme. It didn't last long, and few (if any) bloggers picked up on the meme. In the meantime, it appears that Romney is taking this one on the road..

If Romney accomplishes nothing else in this campaign, up to and including garnering a nomination or even a VP shot on a ticket, I hope he drives and hammers this message across the country.

I say this as one who is firmly in the "undecided" camp for this election. Romney has the right messages, but I'm still not sure whether he has the chops to go the distance in '08. If he doesn't, but does well going into the primaries, then I suspect he could be a much more viable candidate in 2012 when the other big-name contenders will have serious age issues to contend with.

Still, I'd like to focus on this idea of Republicans being scolded about not acting like Republicans these days. Although his message is short, he chides Republicans for "acting like Democrats" in critical areas, and he certainly doesn't mean this in a good way. He criticizes the Bush administration's handling of the Katrina response and clean-up, for example. "It didn't look like Republicans were in charge," is how he put it. He's starting to trumpet a theme of cutting back on spending in Washington. At one point he commented, "We have been overspending even when we had the lead in Congress and in the Senate." In several sessions of over-spending Congresses, this is saying something.

This criticism of Republican spending habits is a particular comfort to me. I have not given money to the Republicans for many, many election cycles now. I even snap at the RNC professional beggars who call right around primary time to remind me that "we can't win without your money." One year I actually wrote a letter to the party chairman. My message has always been, "I will send you morons money when you do a better job with the money you already have."

I used to think (back in my innocent days) that Republicans spent more money on campaigns to get elected so they could do things like cut taxes and reduce spending. This is obviously not true, and Republicans are just as guilty of pork spending as their colleagues across the aisle. This is one case where Republicans ought NOT to be like Republicans of old, they just need to reinvent themselves.

Where do we even begin with the ethical/moral compass under which politicians today operate? Where, in their heavily compartmented minds, do they assume that their dirty laundry is going to remain a secret? And how do they possibly believe that, just because they happen to be a Republican, we voting Republicans are not going to rake them over the coals for it? Here's a tip, guys: if it was morally reprehensible for Bill Clinton to cigar his intern, it's just as morally reprehensible for you to play footie with some dude in an airport bathroom. Period. There can be no double standard here. If you can't keep your vices to yourself, don't expect us to forgive you (politically, anyway) just because you stand in front of a camera and get teary-eyed about it. If you get caught with your hand in the till, expect us to call for a) your resignation, and b) jail time. Loudly. Whatever good you may have done for the country can be instantly wiped away when you fail to act with integrity. It's just that simple.

So, Mr. Romney, keep hammering on that message. I really don't think this country can be told enough that they need to hold their representatives accountable for acting stupidly. It's what we do. It's how we maintain a republican form of government.

Even Democrats have to agree with that.

Variation on a Theme - But Not a Good One

Nigerians have apparently joined the US Marine Corps, gone to Iraq, and taken their money repatriation schemes with them.

From the beginning I have found the Nigerian repatriation letters to be nothing more than a curiosity. They were instructive for their numerous grammatical errors, indicative of someone with only rudimentary ("I have been a Legal solicitor for years many") knowledge of the English language. Most of the authors come across as people who were given English lessons by missionaries, found one of those computers that IBM dropped in the veldt ten years ago, and are parlaying their new skills into money-making schemes.

Since then, of course, the scheme has moved from Nigeria to any number of third world nations. They used to address me by my name, although they've since gotten lazy and don't do that anymore. The amount of money cited varies from $750,000 to well over $11 million. Had I bothered to follow a couple of these to their logical conclusions, I would either be rich or (according to the Secret Service) chopped up into fish bait by now.

I don't even give these things a second glance nowadays, but this one made it past my spam filters into my regular mailbox, and I read through it just to see how they're handling things now. I would have sent it straight into Spam Hell had it not been for the subject line: "A BUSINESS PROPOSAL FROM IRAQ." That started my blood boiling before I even glanced at the preview window.

kingano@optonline.net

Dear Friend,

Good day and compliments, i know this letter will definitely come to you as a huge surprise, but I implore you to take the time to go through it carefully as the decision you make will go off a long way to determine my future and continued existence. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Capt.Jeffery Simpsons, a US Marine Capt. serving in the 3rd Battalion, 25th Marine Regiment which Patrols the Anbar province, Iraq.

I am desperately in need of assistance and I have summoned up courage to contact you. I am presently in Iraq and I found your contact particulars in an address journal. I am seeking your assistance to evacuate the sum of $1,570,000 (One million Five Hundred and Seventy Thousand US dollars) to the States or any safe country of your choice, as far as I can be assured that it will be safe in your care until I complete my service here. This is no stolen money and there are no dangers involved.

SOURCE OF MONEY:
Some money in various currencies was discovered and concealed in barrels with piles of weapons and ammunition at a location near one of Saddam Hussein's old Presidential Palaces during a rescue operation and it was agreed by all party present that the money be shared amongst us. This might appear as an illegal thing to do but I tell you what? No compensation can make up for the risks we have taken with our lives in this hell hole. The above figure was given to me as my share and to conceal this kind of money became a problem for me, so with the help of a German contact working with the UN here(his office enjoys some immunity)I was able to get the package out t a safe location entirely out of trouble spot. He does not know the real contents of the package as he believes that it belongs to an American who died in an air raid, and before giving up trusted me to hand over the package to his close relative.

I have now found a secured way of getting the package out of Iraq for you to pick up. I do not know for how long I will remain here as I have been lucky to have survived 2 suicide bomb attacks by Pure Divine intervention. This and other reasons put into consideration have prompted me to reach out for help. If it might be of interest to you then Endeavour to contact me and we would work out the necessary formalities but i pray that you are discreet about this mutually benefiting relationship.
Contact me via my private box:(capt.jefferysimsons@hotmail.co.uk) so that I can furnish you with more details.

Respectfully,
Capt.Jeffery Simpsons,
Email-capt.jefferysimsons@hotmail.co.uk
United States Marine Corps. IRAQ.

So there we have it. These schemes always target the gullible; so much is obvious. This attempt, however, plays on a highly emotional issue for many, many people. On a more cynical note, it could also be an attempt to play up to spreading liberal notions that US servicemen are uneducated exploiters, and use this to point out just how crooked our soldiers really are.

Either way, this is reprehensible in the extreme. The more bald attempts to play to our sympathies ("No compensation can make up for the risks we have taken with our lives in this hell hole." "...I have been lucky to have survived 2 suicide bomb attacks...") are downright criminal in their intent.

Parts of it, of course, are unintentionally funny. "Capt. Simpsons," a United States Marine, not only created a UK hotmail address, but failed to spell his own name properly when signing up for the account, apparently. Not to mention the obvious grammatical errors and misused British spellings ("mutually benefiting relationship" and "Endeavour" come to mind), along with the seemingly random Capitalizations.

No, Captain Simpsons either doesn't exist, or doesn't know that his name is being used in this manner. Either way, it's just another pavestone on this individual's path to a very dark afterlife.

I'm Still Not Ready

To pay attention to the election, that is.

Is it just me, or does anyone else get the feeling that if it weren't for a few blogospheric zealots, no one else in this country would care about the fact that we're electing a president next year?

Truthfully, given all the inane banter back and forth between candidates so far this year, none of what I've seen so far comes as any kind of surprise. People are sitting pretty much where I expected them to way back months ago. Hillary is still trying to shed her husband's White House image in her own campaign; Romney is still the scrappin' up-and-comer for the GOP; while Giuliani tries in vain to convince grass-roots Republicans that just because he stood tall during 9/11, we should trust him when he says he isn't basically just a liberal in a conservative suit. Fred! is still teasing everyone about running (or not!), while John Edwards just keeps making himself less and less relevant to anything approaching today's realities.

Democrats have already shown that they refuse to grow up and have meaningful debates on hard issues unless they're talking to a video snowman. Republicans got tired of being jeered at by the Democrats and are now looking to do the same. I'm thinking Rove in white-face with a hat and a muffler. I'm sure he'll ask the hard questions.

Meanwhile, people I never heard of and don't care to find out about are already dropping out of the race. They get the luxury of sitting on the sidelines now, and saying "I told you so!" every time one of the survivors trips up. Which will happen more and more now that the MSM has a smaller field of victims for the smear campaigns they're already ratcheting up.

In short, I don't want this election to bother me until, say, January. Then I'll go read a few blogs, watch a debate or two (I'm sure the snowman stuff will still be on YouTube), and maybe even read a news clipping or two.

Then I'll go vote in a primary election that won't make one shred of difference about the ticket that I'll eventually be forced to vote for next November.

That's politics in the good ol' U. S. of A. I'm going to bed now.

Terror Alerts... More or Less

Breaking news from across the pond. A tip of the hat to my step-Dad, ZeeMeister, who sent me this from somewhere in western Texas. He won't identify his source, other than to claim that he "asked hard questions" and "confirmed the woman," whatever that means.

The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent terrorist threats and have raised their security level from "Miffed" to "Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to "Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." Londoners have not been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies all but ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to a "Bloody Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "Bloody Nuisance" warning level was during the great fire of 1666.

Also, the French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France are "Surrender" and "Collaborate." The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France's white flag factory, effectively paralyzing the country's military capability.

It's not only the English and French that are on a heightened level of alert. Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly" to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective Combat Operations" and "Change Sides." The Germans also increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance" to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher levels: "Invade a Neighbor" and "Lose."

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual, and the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels .

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy. These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Now, Woody stands next to no one in admiration for all of our allies — real and/or imagined — but you gotta admit: politically-speaking, these attitudes sound awfully familiar...

Outsourcing For Fun and (Especially) Profit

(Via many sources, but particularly Michelle Malkin)

The latest in data mismanagement is epitomized by the outsourcing of DMV-related information to a company that has a facility in Mexico. The Superior Court in Orange County contracted with Cal Coast Data Entry, Inc, which has a facility in Nogales. Apparently, information from traffic tickets is encrypted and transmitted to the Mexican facility where it is entered into Court databases.

This story bothers me on numerous levels. First, there's our ever-tender relations with our southern neighbor. Mexico loves our tourist dollars, generically speaking, but considers us (following the European Model) to be arrogant pigs, politically speaking. They dislike our economic effects on the peso, our attempts to kill their drug pipelines, and our unreasonable desire to build fences along the border. Of course they'll protect our data.

Accountability becomes tricky. We have little legal recourse should there be criminal negligence or fraudulent use of that data. To whom do we appeal? The World Court? Well, our history with that august body has been every bit as sketchy as our relationships with Mexican politicos. I can't see them getting too fussed about someone misusing a few hundred thousand of our driver's licenses.

Secondly, I wonder what about recent data protection fiascos the Superior Court hasn't learned. A major aerospace company loses control of personal data on thousands of employees — not once, but twice — and has to pay big bucks for credit protection for the affected employees; not to mention the cost of new mandatory training for all employees. In one case the data was proven not to have been used illicitly, but the damage to internal controls was already done and the costs already incurred for correcting the situation.

I'm also a little sensitive about living in the jurisdiction of the Orange County Superior Court and having my own personal data transcribed by a foreign country. Any foreign country. Something about that scenario just doesn't feel right. This coming from a life-long capitalist who has never minded outsourcing certain things to foreign countries in the name of competitive pricing and reasonable trade. However, I have to admit feeling a bit queasy about having personally sensitive data being handled by other nations.

Perhaps it would help if, instead of harping about "infotainment" and feeling generally picked upon, Court officials would instead move to reassure us as to exactly what safeguards are in place so that we might feel better about this situation. Granted that certain things need to remain confidential, helping us understand how our data is protected shouldn't be among them. (Please don't use the word "Microsoft.")

'Fess up, folks. There's another election just around the corner.

Books, Newspapers, and Blogs

So I'm back from vacation, and looking over my poor ol' blog. Thing looks dehydrated; sort of like my lawn, but not quite as desolate. The comments have predictably dried up over the last couple of weeks because there's been nothing talked about here that would set off another flame war (like I've ever really had one of those).

Thus the Woundup looks stagnant. Unused. Somehow lacking. It doesn't have that hectic look of multiple posts in an hour, especially within minutes of the latest John Kerry gaffe ("We have 60 votes!"). It has the feel of an old English manor that's been boarded up because its lord can't keep up the utility costs and has draped sheets over all the furniture.

[/Lileksian Moment]

Upon my return to "civilization" (I am, after all, a red-state boy living in a blue-state world), I hastened my way through the news feeds to see what on earth the mind-shattering news of the day would be. The winner?

Harry Potter.

Killings in Iraq? Sure. Political shenanigans in Congress? Check. Unrest in Sandusky, Ohio? Thanks, Dave Barry. But the number one news item so far as my pitiable research can determine is HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS IS OR ISN'T BEING LEAKED THREE DAYS PRIOR TO ITS OFFICIAL RELEASE DATE, WHICH IS (DID WE MENTION?) ONLY THREE DAYS AWAY!

Well, gee, thanks for that. I'd allowed myself to forget that we had pre-ordered our copy back a few months ago and that we will likely be waiting by our front door, breathlessly listening for some noise that sounds like a box from Amazon.com® being dropped on our front porch as if we were with the Resistance and the wireless was just announcing the landing of the Marines at Normandy.

Or not.

Truth is, we've been feverishly reading Book Six out loud throughout our vacation and into this week, in the vain hope of finishing it before Book Seven turns up. We will, of course, cease to live on Saturday and will be cloistered in our living room as Daddy cranks up his multiple voices (and bags of throat lozenges) to read Book Seven from cover to cover, resisting all the while the urge to TURN TO THE LAST BLAMED CHAPTER AND FIND OUT WHO, FOR PETE'S SAKE, DIED. I mean, the entire time I was reading Book Six two years ago, it killed me not to be able to sneak a peek at the last chapter for fear that Mrs. Woody would decapitate me, or at least censure me severely. When we got to the scene where [WARNING: SPOILER ALERT IF YOU'RE ONE OF THREE ESTIMATED PEOPLE WHO HAVEN'T YET READ BOOK SIX] Snape sends Dumbledore to his own portrait on the Headmaster's wall, I knew about it three sentences before anyone else in my family! And what's more, I was proud of that.

Anyway, Mrs. Woody really wants to finish Book Six one more time before we embark on Harry's last adventure. She hasn't read that one since it first came out, and her memory of certain key features of the book is decidedly rusty. I myself had finished it just a week or so prior to our vacation, but volunteered to read it out loud as Mrs. Woody really, really likes it when I do. However, she may have to finish it on her own if she wants it done before Saturday, as reading it out loud takes considerably more time than simply reading it to yourself.

So, given my confessed love of the Potter series, I was heartened to learn that the publishing industry — the book portion, anyway — seem rather optimistic about life post-Harry.

I say this because (and it's a disease that runs deep in my extended family) I love a good book. Always have, always will. When no other form of entertainment can capture my imagination, a good book will always come to the rescue. I just read "The Da Vinci Code" again for, what, the fifth time in the past several months. Not because I believe one word of it, but rather because it's a well-crafted yarn and I simply enjoy it. Same with "Red Storm Rising" by Clancy. It's wordy, but it's plausible, and I enjoy reading it. I have been this way since my own Dad first gave me a copy of "Tom Sawyer" to read one year on vacation. While growing up I even enjoyed reading books that had holes in the spines where my little brother (a real corker in those days) shot them full of BBs, which, we understand now, is a crime worthy of death in the form of listening to one of Joe Biden's plagiarized speeches.

This got me to thinking about the similarities and, especially, the differences between the various forms of media that I peruse on a regular basis. Books are my drop-dead faves. I enjoy reading them. I enjoy owning them. It gives me no small comfort to be surrounded by them in my home. I imagine myself as the Lord of my own manor, sitting in my expansive library and selecting from one of the ancient masters to satisfy my thirst for knowledge. (Clancy satisfies a thirst for knowledge?? Hardly; but, hey, it's my metaphor.)

Compare this with modern newspapers. Years ago I bought a coffee-table book that contained over 100 years of Los Angeles Times front pages. They offered fascinating snapshots in time, weaving the history of the City of the Angels with earth-shattering events that have shaped the course of modern history. For many, many years that was precisely how I viewed newspapers. Snapshots in time. Living history.

Not anymore. Nowadays, a newspaper in my house is destined for one thing, and one thing only: packing material. Otherwise, it's destined for the recycling bin. Assuming, of course, it makes it into my house at all. The modern newspaper has become a shill for whatever political philosophies its editors find most endearing, and they have tried to create their own version of the Bully Pulpit to ram those views down our collective throats. I don't like that, and I refuse now to have them in my house. Yes, I occasionally miss locally significant news or events that way. But on balance, I find that I no longer care. I'm getting along quite nicely without them cluttering my home.

Then there are blogs. Or, really, any electronic medium that carries news stories to my curious mind. Oddly enough, those same papers that I just figuratively trashed contribute to my amassed base of knowledge every time I browse through the news readers and aggregators scattered throughout the web. Often times, of course, I am merely incensed by what those liberal fish-wrappers are spouting. But they can occasionally enlighten, when they put their minds to the task. For the rest, I rely on the judgement of people I have found throughout the Blogosphere whose opinions I have come to trust and who seem to do a fine job of filtering whatever blather the traditional media crank out.

But such knowledge is fleeting, even temporary, compared with books. Books are tangible, generally permanent containers of someone's perceived wisdom. And while some might argue that newspapers can also be permanent, who, really, keeps a library of them to be perused years down the road? Libraries? Newspapermen? Probably. Ordinary citizens like me? Not a chance.

So I celebrate the arrival of Harry Potter's final book. It will not, as some industry "insiders" seem to fear, be the last book I ever purchase. Shucks, industry insiders who harbor those kinds of fears have never met my brother. He alone will send certain publishers into retirement with very comfortable pensions.

When I retire, on the other hand, I'll probably do so with a chair, a comfortable quiet moment with my sweetheart, and a good book.

Perspective

(H/T: Dave Barry)

Here's the scenario:

A mom in Connecticut asks her kid where all that lunch money is going that she's been giving him for the past few months. Shuffling of the feet, downcast look of abject guilt, then a defensive posture.

"My teacher took it."

This is filed under Dave Barry's "Public Educator of the Week So Far" file:

A public school teacher has been suspended with pay while Hartford school officials investigate allegations that she took cash to excuse students from detention.

[snip]

One parent who made a complaint said that the teacher took $30 or $40 from her son.

"She was always getting $2 or $3 for him not to serve detention," Raynette Little told the Hartford Courant.

So which reaction makes more sense to you?

[Mother's apparent reaction]: "The teacher took how much money??"

[Woody's probable reaction]: "You've been in detention how many times??"

I mean, okay, the fact that this teacher was probably bending some obscure school district regulation is, on the surface, disturbing. I personally lost gobs of money in high school by throwing it away on things like cafeteria "food" and getting "shaken down" by seniors who'd been shaving for twenty years already. But here we have a kid who (depending on how you work the math) has been in detention anywhere from 10 to 20 times, and his mom wonders where the money has gone.

I'm not altogether certain that a questionable public education employee is the real issue in this particular case.

Bottom-Dwelling Teachers

Reason number 27 why we homeschool.

Imagine this scenario: You're a kid in the sixth grade. School is probably not your favorite place, and you certainly weren't counting on receiving any awards as the school year winds down. Mostly you're just dreaming about what kind of fun you can have this summer, and hoping against hope that Mom and Dad won't enroll you in summer school this year.

Then comes the "awards ceremony." You know, one of those deals where other kids — not you — are called up in front of everyone to receive awards for "Perfect Attendance," "Most Improved in 5th Grade," or "Only Kid to Actually Complete a Science Fair Project." You clap politely, if half-heartedly, for the winners. Please let this assembly be over soon, you think to yourself.

Suddenly you hear your name. You wonder why two of your teachers are grinning. Sandwiched between them, the teachers give you two awards. Not awards for some outstanding achievement, but awards designed to destroy what self esteem you've managed to build up over the course of the year. The awards are "Most Likely Not To Have Children" and "Sir Clowns-a-Lot." You also realize that not only are the teachers laughing at you, but so are the rest of the kids, especially those snotty ones who received the "Perfect Attendance" awards.

If you feel the pain and the humiliation, then you understand how this kid must have felt.

I was never one of those kids who got school awards. In fact, the only awards I can actually remember receiving were from my senior year in high school, and they were performing arts awards. I suffered plenty of humiliation as a squirt, but none of it came from teachers. Oh, they may have kept me after class on occasion, or even embarrassed me by pointing out that I was the only one who didn't seem to get whatever math concept we were studying at that moment, but it was never done maliciously.

This kid's teachers probably thought this was all in good fun. Let's tease this kid whom we will never again see, just to let him know there's "no hard feelings." Well, ha, ha. What a great joke.

Now, of course, we're only hearing one side of the story. The local school administrators are doing their best Watergate impression, although they did indicate that apologies were forthcoming (but not so far). Perhaps this child is one of those challenges that make teaching a chore rather than a noble calling. Maybe he was continually being sent to the principal's office for various infractions.

The larger question remains, however. No matter what challenges this kid may have presented in class, does any of it justify the humiliation that these teachers put this kid through — humiliation that will follow him for at least the entire next school year if he stays in his local system — just so they can have the last word?

My daughter works as a teacher's aide in Maryland. She gets assigned the really challenging kids; the incorrigible ones that always seem to come from homes where the parents are as bad as, if not worse than, the kids. The kids she deals with have no respect for authority, no intention of ever doing any actual school work, and she spends the entire year caught inbetween the forces of school policy and parental demands. As bad as these kids can be, they are always dealt with privately. They are never humiliated in front of other kids unless the kid initiates the humiliation.

No, there's no excuse for what these idiots in Indianapolis have done. They need to be permanently removed from the teaching pool before they find some other kid to destroy.

Attention, Arnold Schwarzenegger

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you probably know of my predeliction for vehicles that have a more streamlined appearance. I despise the "box" look, both for its aesthetics as well as for its counter-intuitive aerodynamics. If I want to drive a box I'll buy an old Jeep, put mud flaps on it and drive around the high desert. Since I despise the high desert as much or more than I despise boxy cars, you can imagine how likely that is. I've already excoriated Scion for their pathetic-looking cracker-boxes-on-wheels. I considered it my duty to common sensibilities.

This disturbing trend toward "military chic" in vehicles today was never more evident than when I saw this jaw-dropper on the freeway yesterday. This from Mercedes-Benz, whose love affair with Chrysler is coming to an inevitable end. The model I saw was black, and looked (by Mercedes standards) downright cheap.

You had to have been there, probably. The moment I saw this... this thing rolling along in the carpool lane, my jaw hung limp for a moment or two. Then my brain re-engaged and my very first thought was, "Gee. Looks like a Matchbox car that said, 'I wish, I wish, I wish I could grow up to be a Hummer!'"

Yeah, a Hummer worth around $85,000, thank you very much. I didn't pay that much for my first house.

So, this being Orange County and all, I expect to see quite a few more of these things. The northern section of the county is renowned for two things: the worst drivers in the state of California, and the HUGE vehicles they insist on driving. Vehicles containing multiple area codes. Vehicles that make John Edwards' carbon-wasting mansion look like a bungalow on the beach. Vehicles capable of carrying BOTH Ted Kennedy and Al Gore. And now they can have the ultra-chic Mercedes brand emblazoned on their machines of doom. (Interesting corollary: The fewer children Orange County families have, the larger the vehicle they will be driving.)

Schwarzenegger must be choking on his cigars just looking at them. I wouldn't be surprised to learn he's already put in an order for five of them.

Wherein Congress Seemingly Takes My Advice

Or not. Hard to tell, with Congress. I pleaded with them to kill their silly attempt at immigration "reform," and they appear to have heard me. They're still hemming and hawing about resurrecting it, but, unlike Lazarus, some corpses should stay dead.

Like many on the right, I'm most concerned with the fence, or lack thereof. Some 370 miles completed, at last count. But McCain himself said there likely wouldn't be any more fence built just because this bill becomes law. Putting it in a bill is one thing. Paying for it is entirely different. One of the more charming problems with the bill as written (and amended ad nauseum) is that all of this bureaucratic paper-shuffling to issue visas and ID cards, and verify compliance on the part of people who previously had shown no inclination to abide by existing laws costs money. Lots of money. All of it, just like our extremely popular war, coming out of taxpayer pockets. With so many competing priorities, it's little wonder that building an actual fence will have a difficult time getting any. Money, that is.

So I repeat: Go back and create legislation that makes sense, then come talk to us about it. Don't try ramrodding it down our collective throats and expect us to be happy about it.

One of the common whines we've heard since this bill took its well-earned nose-dive last week is that Congress and the President don't understand the vitriol. Why are we so dead-set against this bill?

Here's where politicians earn their reputation for living in selective seclusion. When a senator wants opinion on a topic, that senator doesn't pick up a phone and say, "I think I'll call Woody over in Orange county. I wonder what he thinks about all this?" No, that senator is more likely to say, "I wonder how much grief La Raza will give me if I don't support open borders?" You show me the last time Congress paid attention to one of those opinion polls that get input from actual voters, and I'll show you the exception to the rule.

Whether or not the Immigration Reform bill is dead, one thing is certain: the next incarnation won't — given the current makeup of this Congress — be much better, if at all. There's just too much fear of alienating powerful interests that tend to keep politicians in power for us to expect any real improvement.

So it's back to our respective corners. Congress and the President will hash out their next hackneyed agreement over in their corner, while we sharpen our poisoned pens keyboards in ours.

I suspect this one may go fifteen rounds.

Kill [the] Bill

McCain-Kennedy deserves the longest, slowest political death possible. As if the entire conversation held in this nation for the last year and a half never took place, the Senate "crafts" legislation that effectively widens the holes in our national sieve. Expect the next 12 million "immigrants" just as soon as the coyotes can scalp them the $2,000 each (or whatever the black market supports these days).

Hey, I'm no legal expert. I leave analysis of this stuff to people much smarter than I am. But I can and do have opinions as a regular voter, and here are mine for whatever they're worth (certainly not $2,000):

1. Like many other pundits and analysts, I'm not at all opposed to allowing many of the current immigrants to remain in the United States. For one thing, many of them have long since proven their desire and ability to be productive members of our society. Sure, there are those elements who make me want to rent a few hundred busses so we can haul their sorry hind-quarters out of the country, but there are more than a few legal life-long citizens that I wish would join them, too.

That said, there's also the tremendous expense (and you know who gets to foot the bill!) and extreme logistical nightmare involved in deportation of that many people. Taken altogether, I say keep the good guys, deport the bad guys, and make sure we can tell the difference. But this leads me to...

2. Border security. I don't know how or why the MSM continues to tout "stronger" border security in their reporting of this fiasco. This is the same tired old ambiguous reference to a "fence" that we've been hearing about for months now. Yet border patrol agents have been telling anyone who would listen (apparently this doesn't include the administration) that fences alone are wholly inadequate to the task. A much larger border patrol presence is also required, as are other measures that make falsifying indentification (among other things) a tougher thing to do.

Here's what I think really happened: I think McCain and his buddies probably thought that one solid bi-partisan piece of compromise was just what the voters really wanted in this run-up to an election year. They probably counted on being hailed as conquering heroes across the country for tackling a problem in a fashion that made Republicans, Democrats, and even the President all very happy.

The problem, of course, is that none of those happy faces are seen outside of Capitol Hill.

It used to be easier, they sigh to themselves. Once upon a time, people would cheer bi-partisanship as a triumph of the American political system. Not anymore, though. With the advent of instantaneous information and data analysis being freely shared among common, ordinary voters like ourselves, politicians find their sheen being stripped thin far more rapidly than ever before in our history. They used to be able to take advantage of the time lag to get things pushed through to the president's desk before anyone really understood what was happening.

But the Internet proves itself to be a sort of instant opinion poll on steroids. We can amass public opinion so quickly now, that politicians are beginning to understand that they ignore that opinion at their peril. Want to know why John McCain is so cranky these days? He just asked if he could take his girl out in Dad's car tonight, and got told "No!" in no uncertain terms. He's having a temper tantrum, and it's likely to cost him the nomination.

So kill the bill. Please. It's useless legislation, filled with all the requisite loopholes and amendments that will ensure its impotence for generations to come. Put it out of our misery, and go draw up something that will work.

Otherwise, quit wasting our time.

But Does He Have a Strong Downbeat?

Who says being President of the United States is all about wearing serious suits, destroying smallish countries and making determined faces during speeches?

One of my favorite escapist movies is "Dave," where Kevin Kline plays an impersonator who gets roped into a scheme to portray the President permanently. Dave, being a fun-loving guy (for a liberal), becomes the sort of playful president everyone wishes our Chief Executives would be in real life, culminating in his throwing out the first pitch at a ball game. Go, Chief! Way to go! Such antics ensure that the President isn't doing something dangerous, like cutting taxes.

No one expects George W. to be a "fun" president, even if he is from "y'all by gosh" Texas.

So imagine my shock to hear this item from PlaybillArts being read on our local classical radio station while I was doing errands this afternoon:

JoAnn Falletta was conducting a 400-piece orchestra in The Stars and Stripes Forever yesterday in Jamestown, Virginia when she noticed someone standing behind her gesturing for a turn on the podium.

It was George W. Bush — "smiling at me kind of devilishly," as she told the Associated Press.

So she gave him a turn, and he conducted the Sousa march for about two minutes — rather successfully, by all reports.

As I listened in shock (He took the baton? From JoAnn Falletta??), it reminded me that most of us, even Presidents of the United States, must have unfulfilled ambitions or fantasies in life. While Bill Clinton may have had little trouble indulging in his, George W. hasn't had a lot of fun on his watch. If it isn't those pesky Islamist fundamentalists stirring up trouble over thar in Whatchycallit... Iraq, then it's most certainly that shrill little filly who keeps slammin' that gavel down in the Capitol.

So, what with one thing and another, I can readily imagine Dubya walking past the podium during his exit music and thinking to himself, "Hey. I'm Prezdent of the U-Nited States. If'n I wanna conduct me an orchestra, there ain't no better time."

(This blog imagines that, had it been Al Sharpton, he wouldn't have bothered unless the orchestra were playing "Jump Down, Turn Around.")

Call me a conservative shill if you must, but I think it would have been très cool to have been there. By some accounts, it was very cool for some of the participants. UPI picks up another angle on the story (courtesy EARTHtimes.org):

"I wish you could have seen the expressions of everyone in the symphony, especially some of the young people," said Falletta. "As soon as the music ended, they were all on their cell phones telling their parents they had been conducted by the president of the United States."

I can just bet. Of course, this also brings up three very significant questions in the mind of this blog:

1. These kids had cell phones on stage?

2. Were they all set on Manner Mode?

3. Didn't the Secret Service sweep for just that sort of thing before the performance?

Egregious breaches in Homeland Security aside, I'm betting this was one of those unforgettable moments in the lives of those youngsters.

By all accounts, Dubya not only kept the beat but managed to cue the proper sections at the right times. Of course, as many times as he must have heard "Stars and Stripes Forever" by now, I shouldn't really be surprised. He's probably memorized the movements of every conductor who ever performed it for some inspection or state dinner or something over the years.

Knowing of my lefty friends' need for Bush Outrage, there was a reported bit of scandal attached to the incident. PlaybillArts ends with this tantalizing bit of gossip:

Shortly before the march was over, he turned to the maestro, kissed the top of her head, stepped off the podium and left.

One can only imagine what Laura must have felt.

As If We Needed Another Reason...

Murfreesboro, Tennessee gives us reason number... number... oh, heck, we've long since lost count. (H/T: Michelle Malkin)

We homeschool precisely so our children aren't subjected to this kind of rank stupitidy from public education "professionals."

Staff members of an elementary school staged a fictitious gun attack on students during a class trip, telling them it was not a drill as the children cried and hid under tables. The mock attack Thursday night was intended as a learning experience and lasted five minutes during the weeklong trip to a state park, said Scales Elementary School Assistant Principal Don Bartch, who led the trip.

As a kid I was one of those impressionable youths who listened to the evening news with ever-increasing trepidation. The world was clearly involved in disaster after disaster, and worst of all was the violence in our own neighborhoods. At the time we lived uncomfortably close to Los Angeles where race riots were the order of the day. Political assassinations were in vogue. My nightmares always involved people with guns (one reason, perhaps, why I've never owned one myself), and I can remember more than one night where Mom had to comfort me back to sleep. I think you get the gist of my objection with this criminal act.

During the last night of the trip, staff members convinced the 69 students that there was a gunman on the loose. They were told to lie on the floor or hide underneath tables and stay quiet. A teacher, disguised in a hooded sweat shirt, even pulled on [the] locked door. After the lights went out, about 20 kids started to cry, 11-year-old Shay Naylor said. "I was like, 'Oh My God,' " she said. "At first I thought I was going to die. We flipped out."

I've said it before, but it bears repeating: This kind of thoughtless approach to teaching is nothing short of criminal child abuse. Well intentioned? Maybe. Even if, however, I were to give these "educators" the benefit of this very considerable doubt, they should still be, at an absolute minimum, fired. Goodbye — thanks for service rendered and all that — but get out.

In a perfect world, though, this Don Bartch character would be tried for inflicting emotional distress on the children. I can only imagine how I personally would have reacted as a child, being on a school trip without my parents there to protect me (like I'd trust my teachers and assistant principal?) and then be told that a gunman was "on the loose." Absolutely criminal on the part of these people.

Nearly-as-criminal understatement of the article:

Principal Catherine Stephens declined to say whether the staff members involved would face disciplinary action, but said the situation "involved poor judgment."

Ya think?

Says Michelle:

No wonder homeschooling is so popular.

You know it, sister.

Socialism in the Classroom

One has to be careful when discussing socialism in this country. My junior high and high school years encompassed the 70's (the Nixon years... I bailed in time to vote against Jimmy Carter). A more permissive — some called it "progressive" (a term I've come to hate over time) — attitude was seen in local education. Hippies, or hippie-wannabes, were becoming teachers and trying hard to push the socialist agenda into the classroom. I was therefore duly indoctrinated by history teachers, debate coaches, drama and music teachers, and even one health teacher who had this terrific lesson about influenza involving a long rubber worm and his nose (grossed the girls out, but the guys loved it).

This "indoctrination" typically involved demonstrating that social justice meant a complete ideological levelling of the playing field. They much preferred the term "socialism" to "communism" because it sounded softer; somehow more palatable. "Communists" were the avowed bad guys in those days. When the mysoginistic McCarthy days had finally blown over, most folks at least agreed that the Soviet brand of communism was indeed the evil that our leaders had always claimed it was. Only hard-core leftist-Marxists found anything good to say about the communist system, and we were still able, even in 1974, to dismiss them as lunatics.

Socialism, on the other hand, was being preached to our impressionable minds as the "soft" alternative to communism. No need to hand totalitarian control over to a communist dictator, they said, so long as we make sure the needs of the "people" come first. A country as rich as the United States surely must be able to give (emphasis on "give") everyone everything they need (read: "want") so that no one is lacking.

As a youngster, I have to admit that sounded pretty good. I mean, if someone in my neighborhood is out of work, we should give them some money to help them. Maybe even give them some food. You know, just until they get back on their feet.

Then Dad explained to me what a "welfare state" was all about.

Dad used to like to take me on walks around the block. I generally enjoyed these opportunities, because Dad was not an overtly affectionate chap. He taught me some great lessons about life on those walks because Dad, it turned out, was a teacher at heart.

Just down the street lived a Latino family. Dad had to phrase his statements to me carefully so as not to prejudice me against Latinos, but rather to make me aware that there were always people willing to "game the system." This family was what Dad referred to as a "professional welfare family." The father had not worked a day in years. The mother and one or two of the older siblings apparently had jobs, but not full-time jobs. At least, not based on how frequently they seemed to be home during the work week. What they had, though, were vehicles. At least seven at one count. Three of them were trucks, including one huge International of the type that eventually became known as SUVs. They were either new or close to new. One of the teenage boys sported a rather classic Chevy Vega that was heavily modified and on which he was constantly working. This family was forever going camping.

Since the father was constantly working on one or more of his seven vehicles, it was hard to determine just what, exactly, his disability was that prevented him from working. Eventually, of course, they sold their house and retired. Based on how long they were there, and knowing how property values increased during that time, I'm guessing he made enough on balance to pay cash for a new home in almost any location other than Southern California.

Lest we somehow overreact to this story, let me quickly point out that they were not the only welfare cheats with which I was familiar. Sometime later I became acquainted with a family in our church that moved into the area and immediately required assistance. This is not altogether that unusual. Our neighborhood was one of the older ones in Simi Valley, and less affluent families came and went. Dad was Elders Quorum president at the time, and he was involved initially in helping them get assistance from the church. Latter-day Saints have probably the most exemplary welfare program in the nation as it provides assistance, yet encourages the recipient to become self-sufficient as soon as possible. This family, though, was unique. This family kept receiving assistance for as long as they could convince the Bishop they needed it. Finally, when the Bishop began asking harder questions about why this gentleman was not actively seeking work, the family moved once again. Professional LDS welfare families. Never knew they existed. I doubt whether they stayed in any ward longer than six months.

The Latter-day Saint theology includes something called the United Order. On its surface it actually sounds socialist, but with one very important distinction. Socialism is simply that: a social order. It attempts to tear down class distinctions (albeit in completely the wrong way) and is more politically motivated. The United Order makes all things in common, but requires the absolute faith of the participants in order to be successful. The early Saints tried and failed; petty jealousies and greed caused the Lord to retract the United Order until such time as the Saints demonstrate their willingness to live it properly. The distinction between the United Order and socialism, then, is spiritual. As with all aspects of the Gospel, everything has its counterfeit. In this case, socialism is a worldly counterfeit for the United Order. Socialism fails because it lacks a spiritual foundation. It attempts to make things common without appreciating the commonality. It forces the commonality, if you will. The United Order, on the other hand, is voluntary. It requires faith in the Gospel. It focuses our minds and hearts on acheiving the same spiritual goals.

Socialism, as defined by its promoters, is also counterfeit to the Constitution of the United States, a document which has not yet outlived its usefulness. In the Constitution the framers remind us that we are entitled by right to life, to liberty, and to the pursuit of happiness. It also specifies how liberty is maintained. Freedoms spelled out in the Bill of Rights are frequently misinterpreted as meaning that we are free to act without consequence, or that we can somehow force one ideology over another simply because it uses words like "social justice."

Those who tout socialism as a great leveller choose not to mention the fact that one of our most basic freedoms — freedom to worship as we may choose — would be quashed by the constant indoctrination of people against the very tenets of that worship. In other words, religion becomes anaethemic to the practice of socialism, because religion tends to temper the anger and sense of complete injustice required to make socialism necessary to begin with. Human suffering should be dealt with by caring neighbors who give willingly and encourage the sufferer to return to a productive way of life. Religion in its purest form would enable this. Socialism would enforce this. Socialism can only succeed when it is legislated and becomes the law of the land. Every law passed that supports a socialist agenda only serves to weaken the Constitution that made such things possible in the first place.

This very long-winded sermon was made necessary (in my mind, at least) by knowledge of a movement afoot in public education today. A group calling themselves Radical Math tout something they call "Social Justice in the Math Classroom." They have just recently wrapped up a conference, attended by roughly 500 educators in New York City, who learned the many different ways to teach "social justice" at the same time they're supposed to be teaching times tables and algebraic reasoning. The "Welcome Message" in the conference program reads:

There is no such thing as a neutral education process.
Education either functions as an instrument which is
used to . . . bring about conformity, or it becomes the
practice of freedom, the means by which men and women
deal critically and creatively with reality and discover
how to participate in the transformation of our world.”
- Paulo Freire (emphasis theirs)

Socialism is the agenda here. Entitlement is the religion. Civil rights leaders become the gods. The altars are built upon intolerance of those who disagree with their perspectives.

If there is a true separation of church and state, this sort of thing should never be allowed in a public classroom. It is instead encouraged by the leaders of those schools.

Reason #247 why we homeschool.

Happy Mother's Day, Amy!

To my sister Amy. One good "neener" deserves another:

We note for the record that between all the sibs, only Amy has boys to raise*.

Neener, indeed.

*Caveat: Woody does, indeed, have a boy, but he is raised. Also, Woody didn't get much hands-on time with said boy after the divorce. Thus, the damage is already done, and only Amy has it to look forward to with, I am certain, much anticipation.

Why Is Everyone Leaving?

My brother has been guest-blogging over at Junkyard Blog this week, and I've actually added the JB to my blogroll. Fond as I am of my brother, I'm never certain just where his editorial whims will take him next. In this post he comments on an article written by Michael Barone of the OpinionJournal.

Barone's basic premise is that people are leaving the major coastal cities by droves and moving to the less crowded areas of the so-called "fly over" zones of America. Meanwhile, immigrants surge into those coastal cities to replace those who have left. The overall effect is one of having precisely the sort of two-tiered society against which the Democrats continuously campaign. Unfortunately, those same cities are the ones that provide the largest support base for Democratic policy and power today. It's a delicate tightrope for pols like Feinstein and Pelosi to have to berate the very societies that gave them birth, so to speak.

(Yes, yes... sweeping generalizations. That's what we do, here at the Woundup.)

Cam argues that it's not necessarily a cause and effect sort of situation, and I agree with him. I'm not altogether sure that's where Barone was heading with his numbers game, but I'll stick to Cam's extrapolation. The main reason why people leave cities like Los Angeles and San Francisco and move to Fuhgedabahdit, Colorado is... money.

I live in Orange County, California. Orange County has, for decades, been touted as one of the richest plums in a state full of plum trees, if you get my drift. I happen to live in an area right smack between two of the snootiest-per-capita areas of the county, Yorba Linda and Anaheim Hills. When I say there's gold in them thar hills, I'm not really kidding. There is a lot of money here, old and new, which is why Yorba Linda's self-absorbed statement is "Land of Gracious Living." I don't think Anaheim Hills has any such statement, but they don't really need one. You don't find a dwelling under $1.5 million unless it's a condo. Maybe only $1.1 mil for a condo. At those prices I couldn't afford to rent one of their bathrooms, let alone a room with kitchen privileges.

But Cam also got me to thinking about our own situation and why we're still here in California, and why we won't be as soon as we're able to retire. Money is part of it, yes. But we also have some health considerations that will deeply narrow the choices of retirement communities when we're ready to make that plunge in about 15 years. Give or take.

Mrs. Woody and I both have arthritis. Actually, not to alarm those who happen to be my mother (not that this would come as any real shock to said mother), but my own arthritis is still only suspected, not diagnosed. And, of course, it's nowhere near as bad as Mrs. Woody's. But all this joint trouble means that we're probably going to be looking for places with nice, moderate temps for as much of the year as we can get away with. So, nice, moderate temperatures at nice, moderate prices. Any ideas out there in Woundupland? (Hands down, Mom and Bob. You, too, Matt and Amy. You'd be at the top of the list if it weren't for all those doggoned TORNADOS you keep running into.)

Therein lies the rub, alas. You see, we've basically grown up here in Southern California. We know what this weather is like from year to year and from El Niño to La Niña. We know all about earthquakes. Pound for pound, we tend to prefer temblors to tornados. Call us biased, but we don't care. If not for the fact that our biggest customers at work are various agencies of the United States government, I could honestly say that I'd much rather not have to deal with that much wind.

Believe it or not, the immigration "problem" (regular readers of this blog know what I mean by that) is nowhere on the list of reasons why we feel compelled to leave Southern California at some point. Immigrants don't generally bother me, unless they refuse to control their kids in public. In this part of the world, if my home were to be burglarized, it's about even money whether the perp would be an illegal, or dark-skinned, or some bored brat kid of some local politician.

Cam mentions the skyrocketing crime rates in places I used to live (Lancaster and Quartz Hill among 'em) and he's absolutely correct: I don't miss them. Not one iota. Housing was much cheaper "up there" than "down below," which meant that poor families were settling in those places and bringing their gang-indoctrinated kids with them. By the time I left, I was living just outside the boundaries of what was quickly becoming just another South Central LA slum, only about 75 miles to the north. We began calling our neighborhoods "Bloods and Crips, North."

So crime is a constant worry here. But I don't worry about (or fear) immigrants largely because I know quite a bit about where they come from. I lived in Guatemala for nearly two years, speaking their language and living in the same conditions they lived in, only with more money to spend in a month than they would see in a whole year of work. I can tell you what circumstances south of the border compel these people to risk everything to try for a better life in the hated United States. Politics may make for stange bedfellows, as the saying goes, but scrabbling for an existence can make them even stranger.

I dunno... maybe I'm over-simplifying the situation. I refuse to live too close to areas where illegal immigration causes the most trouble, so I'm removed from that dynamic. The people I know who are not native to this country are, for the most part, genuine people. I have them for neighbors. I count some of them as friends. I work with many of them. I find them to be honorable, hard working, decent people. They are not among the reasons why I need to leave this place. Eventually.

No, I leave because I won't be able to afford to stay here. I'm a middle-class guy living in an area that requires us to be either one strata up, or two strata down. I can't afford the one, and I really don't want the other. So we'll leave. We will move to a place where the cost of living will hopefully stay within our means until we pass into the next life, and hope the weather won't cause our inflamed joints to throb painfully for too many weeks out of the year. It will need to have relatively easy access to wherever our children are living by that time with their own families so we can do the Grandma-and-Grandpa-come-for-(SHORT)-visits routine. It will, if Michael Barone is correct, likely have immigrant families living there.

So long as I have Mrs. Woody there with me, it will be perfect.

An Ocean of Memories

[I meant to post this on Inner Dad. I don't generally post schmaltzy stuff like this on the Woundup. The Woundup is my mosh pit, for corn's sake. You know the kinds of commenters I get over here... why would I subject family stuff to that atmosphere?

On the other hand, since when did I ever do or say anything that made sense?

Vive le blog!]

[UPDATE: Okay, I couldn't do it. This sort of post is just too innocent for the Woundup. You'll have to link over to Inner Dad if you want to read this one. Sorry!]

A Dying Newspaper is a Wonder to Behold

The Minneapolis/St. Paul Star Tribune is dying. At least, that's what we presume from Lilek's announcement that he's being "reassigned" to work a straight news beat rather than provide his excellent commentaries via his wonderful "Quirk" column. Several folks, including Dave Barry and my brother, have indicated their support of Lileks, and I thought I'd do my part. This is what I sent to the STrib's "reader rep:"

I am writing to ask what in the heck the STrib was thinking when they "reassigned" James Lileks to a news beat. Lileks has a deep following that reaches far beyond the meager influences of your paper. If the STrib has more than a local following, you can thank James for most of it.

Lileks has a writing style and point of view that makes him a very refreshing counter-balance to Minnesota's other "celebrity" writer, Mr. Keillor. Don't get me wrong; I used to be a fan of Garrison's. Over the years, however, he's become simply too bombastic in his denunciations of roughly half of this nation's populace to be at all enjoyable as a writer of folksy wit and humor. Lileks, on the other hand, has never yet failed me.

If one had to guess, one could easily envision the editorial staff at the STrib wondering just how they might stanch the bleeding subscriptions from a paper that is merely symptomatic of the industry as a whole. Well, you could do just what big guns like the Los Angeles Times have done; fire your competent staff writers and columnists and streamline the rest. That'll bring in the subs for sure! Corporate arrogance is an awesome thing, indeed.

You people worry me.

For the record, the primary reason that poseurs like myself pretend to write today is that people like Lileks helped pioneer the way. He remains one of the most effective voices of the northern mid-West, and you're about to muffle that voice so as to make it nearly soto voce.

What a tragedy.

The day that Lileks ceases to write insightful columns (NOT insightful, over-edited news soundbites) is the day my interest in your organization also ceases.

Sincerely,

Woody (real name sent to the rep)
Writer Wannabe
Anaheim, CA
http://woodyswoundup.blogspot.com/

Do your part! Support Lileks! We tried, as a blogospheric joke, to get him to run for Senate two years ago, but this is serious. We need writers like Lileks to do what they do best; not what the editorial bosses think is best.

Historic Veto

In exercising his right and executing his duty, President Bush has rightly vetoed the defeatist Democrat-induced bill that would have established a dangerous timeline for withdrawal of our troops.

Key disingenuous quote:

Democrats accused Bush of ignoring American's desire to stop the war, which has claimed the lives of more than 3,350 members of the military.

That may be, but you might think they'd remember the niggling little factoid that Democrats only speak for roughly half of this nation's voters.

Make no mistake: I'm no fan of the war in Iraq. I personally think it has indeed become the very "quagmire" that many people feared it would become over time. I just don't appreciate the violence involved, no matter who's doing the shooting.

But.

I also believe — and have stated before — that the War on Terror is the Cold War of this generation. There are differences, certainly, and I'm not suggesting for a minute that you can draw a direct parallel between the two. Yet the War on Terror has already lasted long enough that children who were born at the beginning of it are now entering the classroom and have known only a world where we are at war with a hideous enemy. For as long as we are engaged there, these children will have the fight in Iraq shaping their world views and their vocabularies.

Yet the statement that President Bush's veto ignores "American's desire" to "end the war" is misleading. I don't care what the polls say: even those of us who don't like this war continue to support the President's decisions to support his commanders in the field.

Harry Reid is not a commander in the field. Neither is Nancy Pelosi. For that matter, neither is George W. Bush, but there is a key difference. Bush wants to listen to his commanders. Reid and Pelosi will shout over those commanders so that they, in effect, can say, "Not listening! La, la, la!"

Of course the veto means a long, drawn-out, messy in-house fight over the war effort. That's what vetos do. And far from making Bush look like a weak-minded war-monger, it instead shows Congressional Democrats for what they really are: defeatists.

As I said before, when the Dems find themselves in the Commander-in-Chief's chair, they can bring the troops home just as soon as they like. Then see how many terrorist attacks they will have "prevented."

Leaving Iraq now will only be an enabler of the jihadists' blood-lust.

One of the (Innumerable) Reasons Why We Homeschool

[Welcome, Junkyardblogites! Glad to have you browse the Woundup.]

[Welcome, also, to Susie-Q&A readers! Most of my homeschool stuff resides at The Inner Dad, but the really brainless stuff generally finds its way over here. Enjoy!]

Mrs. Woody tossed another one my way that instantly drove my blood pressure right off the scale. "Listen to this," she intoned. "Kindergartners in Pennsylvania are in school from 8:40 in the morning to 3:10 in the afternoon with no recess!"

I beg your pardon?

"Kindergartners?" I asked, certain I'd not heard her correctly.

"Kindergartners!" she affirmed. "Kids have to play! It's part of how they learn!"

There was a lot more to this discussion, but these were the salient points.

Mrs. Woody and I homeschool for a multitude of reasons. At the top of that very long list is the incompetence of education "professionals" to provide anything remotely resembling a true education to the children of this nation. I say that with all affection towards those dedicated people for whom education is a way of life and a cause to which they have sworn undying allegiance.

The rest of that industry are the biggest morons I've ever encountered. Including most members of Congress.

1. I have never in my adult life heard persuasive evidence that children — especially small children — must be cooped up in class for longer hours every day with less play time. How is this in any way justified? I'm sorry, but as both a parent and a former child (keep your opinions of "former" to yourselves, please) I refuse to buy into this hysteria. Children are children, and must be allowed to burn off their incredible reserves of energy throughout the day. For heaven's sake, have none of these so-called "experts" ever heard of metabolism? My own, as a child, was ridiculous. I burned off calories while I was eating, and still had energy to spare when I got home so I could build entire forts out of the bricks that Dad had earmarked for the steps leading up to our do-it-yourself gazebo that ultimately blew down in Santa Ana winds approximately two weeks after we finished cementing those same bricks in place. That's the kind of metabolism I had, and it stayed with me, right up until I married a half-Latina, half-Italian (She-Who-Is-NOT-Mrs.-Woody) whose mother thought I had rickets. At that point my metabolism finally surrendered, but I was well into my twenties by that time.

Children must play, and they need to do it rather frequently throughout the day. Insisting that they spend that precious childhood play time in a classroom with their little minds wandering everywhere but on the chalkboard is criminal.

The activists-with-very-little-brain who promote mandatory preschool will not be far behind.

2. Perhaps Pennsylvania school officials in Woodland Hills think it's a boat-load of fun, sitting in one of those stuffy, overcrowded schools for seven and a half hours with only a break for lunch and no recess. Perhaps they feel that the kids are getting the state's money's worth by saving them that $47 million for 15 minutes' worth of recess time.

Perhaps Pennsylvania school officials are idiots.

Tell you what, I propose a compromise: Let's make it mandatory for anyone wishing to be a Pennsylvania school official — elected or otherwise — to sit in those same stuffy schools for twelve hours a day (because, you know, they're adults and everything) and see how long it takes before the district psychologist diagnoses them as being ADD or ADHD. About one month, would be my guess.

3. Speaking of ADD, I have to tell you another reason why we homeschool. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that my incredibly bright, eager, sensitive, and exceptionally intelligent elder Woodyette would by now have been identified as an ADD child by whatever school shrink she might have seen. The fact is that her imagination, which has spawned entire universes, would have long since gotten her into all kinds of trouble with conventional educators by this time. She can't help it. Fantasy is important to this young lady, and she thrives on being master of her many environments. Does this mean she is in any way dysfunctional? Of course not. But no teacher who is held to lesson plans, increasingly restrictive curriculum choices, and pressure to teach to the tests could possibly have the patience to deal with such a child without playing the Attention Deficit card.

Because this child is frighteningly like her Dad was at that age, I also know that she will all too soon grow out of this fantasy stage of her young life. It will be a sad thing to watch as parents. Another one of those "our little girl is growing up!" mixed blessings that mark every milestone along the path. My baby sister may crow about never having to buy another diaper in her life, but the cockiness won't last. All too soon those sweet little boys of hers won't want quite so many hugs anymore, and will really really wish that she wouldn't walk with them everywhere they have to go. It just happens.

But teachers nowadays don't — can't, really — have the kind of patience that recognizes the true needs of those kids as they achieve those less definable milestones; the ones you won't find in any lesson plan.

That's all I really wanted to say about this issue. I know that, somewhere deep down in the lumps of coal that serve as their hearts, professional educators everywhere really want only what's best for kids in this country. I just wish to heck they'd take a few moments and remember what it was like to be kids themselves, and quit punishing our kids for it.