Fed Up With the Fed

So the president wishes more power to the Federal Reserve. In his view, this will enable the Fed to manage the economy better and prevent bubbles, recessions, inflation, etc.

Among the major problems with this is the glaring fact that the Fed is responsible for the lion's share of our economic woes. It's just like his brilliant scheme to save the economy by spending even more money, thereby further weakening the dollar and thus damaging the economy.

While it's not evidence, I have a few comparisons that serve, in the least, as food for thought. Based upon his "logic," the president would recommend that

--a fat man eat more and exercise less.
--Michael Jackson quit the entertainment industry and teach sixth grade instead.
--since the war in Iraq is not winnable, we send in more troops.
--doctors cure a heroin addict by facilitating his access to heroin.

Seriously, the Fed is corrupt, anti-American, and operates contrary to the natural laws of economics. Don't enhance its powers. Abolish it.

Belated Lamentation

I lament the untimely death of Christopher Marlowe, the 2Pac of his time--murdered under mysterious circumstances. Rumors persist to this day that he indeed did not die with a knife through his eye socket, but merely faked his death and continued his career as William Shakespeare.

But, alas, I think that he died in that tavern, the victim of a drunken quarrel (and 2Pac died as well, the victim of the culture that made him rich and famous).

The following quotations are Marlow's.


"O, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars. "

" I'm armed with more than complete steel, - The justice of my quarrel."

"While money doesn't buy love, it puts you in a great bargaining position."

"Above our life we love a steadfast friend."

"Our swords shall play the orators for us."

"Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?"

"Accursed be he that first invented war."

"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, and burnt the topless towers of Ileum? "--in reference to Helen of Troy

"Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed In one self place, for where we are is hell, And where hell is there must we ever be. "

Free Tibet

If Tibet does not want to be part of China, then why should it be forced to be so?

On the other hand, the United States must, as a matter precedent, support China--even if it leads to the deaths of hundreds of thousands. This would be consistent with the U.S. policy in the Civil War, when the southern states wished to secede, but the U.S. government decided to wage a brutal war of conquest instead.

Go Tibet.

An Enigma

If a product of any kind killed as many people as governments have (and continue to), then it would be reviled by the masses and shunned.

And yet, when you listen to what the leading candidates for higher office say, it is more government that we need.

I need more government like I need more cyanide.

The choices of Hillary Obama or John McCain is the same as the choice between the gas chamber and the electric chair.

Count me out. I didn't do anything to deserve this.

Star Wars Auditions

A Guide to Parenting

Here's another "My Bad!"

Mark (age 4): "Dad, can I ask you somefin?"

Aristos (age 31): "Sure buddy, what's up?"

Mark: "How old do I haf to be when I can say 'shit' and not get in trouble?"


Oops. My bad.

This comes two days after I dropped something and roared "Gosh darn it!"

Mark looked at me and said, "Don't you mean 'goddamn it'?"

Oops. My bad too.

George Harrison

There may come a day that we recognize that George was the most neglected and perhaps even the most talented of the Beatles.

More Tribute

Women will not understand how I can shoot a deer through the heart and both lungs, or crush a wounded rabbit's skull with my boot with no emotion but glee, and yet watching this video nearly brought me to tears.

Look at the man's eyes. It's as if he in the garden of Gesthemane.

If I were omnipotent, then I would let this cup pass by.


Favre's final farewell

Immigration: The Human Cost - Onion News Network

The Onion: Bullshit Is Most Important Issue For 2008 Voters

I must credit my good friend Science Guy with introducing me to this, and he's right. You must watch this twice. First, watch the people. Second, read the scrolling line at the bottom.

A New Kind of President? I Think Not!

Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton may very well become either the first black or female president in United States history.

However, neither will be the first crappy one.

That honor goes to John Adams.

I Rant Against a Kind of Moron

This blog is called, "What I Think."

It used to be called, "What I Hate."

I amended the title because too much of what I was posting had nothing to do with what I hate.

However, for the purposes of nostalgia, here's something that I really hate.


A certain family member of mine is one of those who talks about how everything is going to Hell. He's also one who supports John McCain and mocks me for supporting Ron Paul.

At just about every state's primary, he gleefully notes how many more people voted for McCain than for Paul. Then he bitches about how the country is going to Hell.

Here's a news flash. If the country is going to hell, then--in a country such as ours where the majority votes for leadership--the problem is the majority of people (or at least the majority who vote).

Therefore, if you're upset about how the country is going to Hell, you had better not brag about how your guy has more support.

Here's a newsflash: that mass of support about which you brag is the problem, and you're part of it.

Fewer people support Ron Paul because fewer people are wise.

Now step aside and give freedom a shot, or else just put on your swastika armbands or salute the hammer and sickle. In Plato's myth of the three metals, you're not even a metal. You're a gas. I wish that you were inert, but you're alive, alert, well, and deadly to all with whom you come into contact.

Say It Ain't So!

Brett Favre has retired. Upon hearing the news, I considered Favre's legacy as a peerless athlete and sportsman. It made me think that Paul Simon needs to rework his lyrics to "Mrs. Robinson":

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?
Our nation turns its lonely hearts to you.

The biggest problem is that "Brett Favre" isn't so euphonious.

Nonetheless, I wish the man a farewell. Never has there been such a combination of raw talent and sheer toughness in a quarterback.

I will miss him, and not just because he led one of my fantasy football teams to a superbowl victory this season.

Take care, Brett.

Ancient Adage

Word to the wise:

When your urine smells like Fruit Loops, it's time to switch to Captain Crunch.

Ahem!

Be afraid. Be very afraid. What the eco-nazis have in store for you! (Notice that the image is courtesy of wikipedia).

Gone forever are the jokes about these tyrants wishing to throw us all into the dark ages, for they simply aren't jokes anymore. When you breathe, you emit "greenhouse gases" (an archaic and unscientific term). So, to reduce this argument to absurdity, this group of "scientists" argues, essentially, that we need to stop breathing. It would seem that Bill Clinton wasn't bad for not inhaling. He was bad for exhaling.

Global warming will not destroy civilization, but those who cry for action against global warming will damn sure try.

THE ORIGINAL Scary 'Mary Poppins' Recut Trailer

Sleepless in Seattle - the Thriller

My Run in With the Fuzz

About thirty minutes ago, I was driving home from a card game that did not go well for me or for my dad, who sat in the passenger seat as we moved along Clinton River Road, over M-59 and by Utica Ford II Sr. High. Bluegrass music supplied the background to our conversation about the evening's exceedingly bad luck.

The road was deserted. Bold darkness shrouded all things beyond the reach of my headlamps, and I asked aloud to myself what the speed limit was. I knew that farther down the road the speed limit was 40 mph, but a vague memory told me that closer to the high school the limit was only 35 mph. A moment later, a speed limit sign confirmed my suspicion, so I set the cruise control at 35.

No more than twenty seconds elapsed when a patrol car came up behind me with its lights flashing. I looked down at my speedometer, and I was relieved to see that the needle was set, dead on at 35.

I changed into the right lane and slowed down so that he could pass me, but he pulled in behind me instead.

"He's after me," I said.

"Looks like it," my dad replied.

"What'd I do?" I asked, and I was utterly at a loss.

"Don't know," he added laconically.

I slowed down more and looked ahead for a place to pull off. However, there was no shoulder and no side streets within sight, so I just stopped in the right lane.

That's when my heart started pounding. I wasn't drunk, but I'd consumed three beers over the course of the three and one half hour game, the last one finished no fewer than thirty minutes prior. Oh Jesus, I thought to myself. He'll smell it on my breath.

We sat there for probably a minute, but it seemed like ten. I knew that the officer was running my plate, which wasn't a problem. The problem was that I had no bloody clue why I was being pulled over.

While I wondered if I was seriously being pulled over for doing 35.5 mph in a 35 mph zone, the officer finally exited his car and approached my open window.

"What's wrong?" I asked too quickly to be just casual.

"Headlight's out," he said, adding "License, registration, and proof of insurance, please."

"Sure thing," I replied--again just a tad too quickly to sound comfortable.

I already had my driver's license out, and my dad and I were shuffling through the documents in the glove box for the registration and proof of insurance.

I located the registration quickly, but the insurance card that I produced was expired.

"This one's not the most recent," I said to my dad as he sorted through the remaining documents.

"Here," he said as he handed me a card. I looked for the expiration date: January 24, 2008.

I figured that I'd hand the officer what I had while I continued to look for the new insurance card, but with scarcely a glance at my license etc., he spoke almost immediately.

"Are you going to get it fixed?" He asked.

"Oh yes," I replied, "first thing tomorrow."

"Then you're o.k.," he said. "Besides, I don't know if I could give a ticket to a guy with a Ron Paul bumper sticker."



"Alright, awesome! Thanks!" I said--again, too quickly, but this time sounding relieved instead of anxious.

With that, he returned to his car, and my dad and I headed for home.

"I think that Ron Paul just got me out of a ticket! Now we just have to hope that we don't get pulled over by another cop before we get home" I proclaimed gleefully.

When we returned home, my wife was just on her way to bed.

"We got pulled over on the way home," my dad said to her.

She actually glared at me and half-barked, "For what?" For she figured that I had been speeding.

"We have a headlamp out," I said in my righteous defense.

Instantly her look changed. She tilted her head, shrugged her shoulders and chuckled as she said, "Oh yeah, I meant to tell you about that."

Women.

(I think that I'm going to make her change that headlamp herself.)