I've Heard of Slow Burns, But This is Ridiculous

Thanks for the Memory to The Maximum Leader at Naked Villainy.

Katy Bar the Door. Hide your wives and daughters, lock up the liquor cabinet, the Hero of Chappaquiddick is on the warpath.

Apparently, Rick Santorum (R - Pennnsylvania) offended
Teddy Kennedy (D - Glenlivet) with comments made in an article he wrote for Catholic Online.

Three years ago.


The esteemed Maximum Leader thinks it took "The Tippler" that long to get around to reading the article. I'm not so sure. He may have read it the day it was published and it took this long for the indignation to find it's way through the fog. In either case, I find Teddy's righteous (*snicker*) anger... misplaced.

For starters, the phrase "Glass Houses" comes to mind any time I hear the word "irresponsible" pass through Teddy's lips.

Secondly, Santorum has a point. Priests ARE affected by the culture in which they live, sad to say. And our permissive society MAY have had something to do with the atmosphere that allowed priests to they could get away with molestation. Lord knows our society in general sees more and more perversion and deeper and deeper depravity all the time -- the slope really is slippery, folks.

I can't help wonder what Kennedy's response would be if someone had written an article that said that the Catholic Priest Scandal was a result of an overly conservative, repressive Catholic culture that values maintaining public image over the truth. I am willing to bet it would be a hearty "AMEN!". Come to think of it, I believe that's the argument many have already made.

And both arguments have their points. So why is it suddenly less acceptable to as people to look at their own side of the coin?

Cue Them from Mission Impossible

yesterday around 5:15 PM, I made the afternoon shift change with The Feared Redhead, taking helm of the car and possession of the diaper bag while she headed off to work. She reminded me that I needed to pick up and/or prepare a dish to contribute to last night's going away party for a coworker of hers. She reminded me that said coworker is allergic to the following food items:

Soy
Dairy
Wheat
Beef
Garlic
Nuts

And that she's also vegan.

Of course, she is.

With that knowledge and the limited pallette it left me, I set out to pick something up at Fred Meyer. I settled on fresh fruit and a chocolate dip. Do you know how many chocolate products contain either milk or soy lecithin? Finally I decided to make my own sauce. Armed with a bit of advice from a local wine expert, I put together the following recipe on the fly:

Port in a Chocolate Storm

2 1/4 cups tawny port
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup corn starch
1/4 cup Dutch cocoa powder
1 vanilla bean
1/2 Tsp cinnamon

in a small saucepan, dissolve 1/4 cup sugar in 2 cups tawny port, leaving 1/4 cup of the port to the side. Slice vanilla bean down the middle, scrape pulp into the port, and add the bean. Slowly heat to a boil over medium-low heat, stirring constantly. While the port heats, slowly stir in and dissolve the cocoa powder. After the mixture has come to a low boil, strain it through a wire strainer to remove the bean and any grit from the vanilla pulp, return to the saucepan. Make a slurry by thoroughly mixing the corn starch with the remaining port. Stir the slurry into the saucepan. Add in 1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon, continuing to stir constantly until the sauce returns to a boil. Remove from heat, and let the sauce cool until thickened. Serve with fresh fruit for dipping.

I thought the sauce was pretty good. TFR's coworkers disagreed, thinking I underestimated it -- they went nuts for the stuff. As it turns out, the coworker in question isn't vegan, or even vegetarian -- just allergic to beef. But I still managed to prepare a dish she could enjoy without fear for her allergies.

So within the space of 2 1/5 hours, I managed to deposit TFR's paycheck, shop for my ingredients and a quick bite to eat, feed and change The Lad, make a delicious dessert, shower, change, and get out the door to pick up TFR for the party.

Iron Chefs?

Pussies!

Open the Gates, but Close the Fences

Thanks for the Memory to http://darthapathy.blogspot.com/2005/07/mccains-assault-on-america-continues.html.

McCain-Kennedy Amnesty Bill Opens the Border

by James R. Edwards, Jr.
Posted Jul 12, 2005

At a time of sustained, mass immigration, a glut of unskilled foreign workers, unrelenting illegal immigration and fiscal overload, Sens. John McCain, R-Ariz., and Ted Kennedy, D-Mass., propose to flood America with more of the same.

Their recently introduced legislation, S. 1033, creates two supposedly temporary work visas. Those programs are vehicles to legalize all 10-12 million illegal aliens.

Read the rest here.

There's little scarier than the combination of rightheartedness and wrongheadedness. I understand the need to address real and/or perceived inequities in immigration laws, but carte blanche amnesty for illegals ain't it.

On this issue, I agree whole-heartedly with The Maximum Leader. I unfortunately can't find the post in which he stated it, but I'll try to paraphrase his point here. Any discussion of what our immigration and border policies should be is moot and useless if we can't first enforce the laws we already have.

Update: The Maximum Leader came through for me.

Because of my theology and personal philosophy, I have a great deal of empathy and compassion for those in underdeveloped countries who seek to come to the United States to find a better life. But I don't therefore believe that because their reaction to their situation is understandable, their illegal immigration as part of that response is excusable.

I'm all for an open and frank discussion about who how the laws governing who is granted legal status should be changed. In fact, I for one would probably come down on the side of those who argue for relaxing them. But I firmly believe that those who don't meet the requirements of those laws, however strict or lax, should not be able to flaunt those laws with impunity.

In this day and age, with the types of criminal activity that get smuggled across the border not even counting the aspiring migrant farm worker, such as terrorism, hard core drugs, etc., it is a matter of national security and utmost importance that we establish the right and ability to monitor and control exactly who does and doesn't enter this country. Once we've established that control, we can afford to be as generaous as we wish and deem prudent. But until then, turning a blind eye to those who thwart that control is not the answer.

In short, I see no inherent conflict between making it easier for legitimate immigrants to enter the country, while at the same time making it harder, if not impossible, for illegitimate infiltrators to do so. In fact, I'd argue that both serve equally to make America the strong, free country we so love.

Zen and the Art of S'mores

Last night, as The Feared Redhead and I watched televison an ad came on for Hersheys Chocolate Bars. In the ad, the spokesperson was explaining that she and her boyfriend always argue over who makes the best s'mores, and concluded the commercial with, "I always win". TFR's response was to turn to me and say, "You're the King of S'mores!"

Which I am.

So I decided for this week's recipe to share with you my secrets to making The World's Best S'mores.

The World's Best S'mores

Ingredients:
Graham Crackers (Regular honey graham crackers -- no chocolate grahams, cinnamon, or any of that BS)
Hersheys Plain Chocolate bars (The regular ones, not the thick ones or dark ones or Dove Bars or any of that BS)
Marshmallows (Full-sized plain white ones, not the colored minis or chocolate marshmallows or any of that BS)

Utensils:
long pointy sticks (real wood sticks, not coat hangers or metal wienie roasting rods or bamboos skewers or any of that BS)
Campfire (Or a beach bonfire, or even a fireplace. No charcoal or gas grill or hibachi or any of that BS)

Notice a pattern?

That's right, my s'more recipe calls for exactly the old school elements, no more, no less. My secret is not in the materials, it's in the technique.

First of all, the S'mores MUST be made in a convivial atmosphere. The telling of jokes, singing of songs and sharing of innermost thoughts is a necessary element, as is snuggling a loved one, pulling pranks, imbibing hot chocolate, coffee, and strong drink. In onther words, if the mood's not right, neither are the S'mores.

Now to the technical notes. Start with one graham cracker. Carefully snap it in two so that you have square halves. Carefully snap off two of the sections of hershey bar as one piece, place the piece on one of the two cracker halves, and place the two halves on a hot spot near the fire. This will ensure that while your marshmallow roasts, your graham cracker will toast and the chocolate will melt. You want the chocolate to still hold its shape, but just barely, and be shiny across the entire surface.

Impale exactly one marshmallow on the stick. Using a stick will ensure that as the marshmallow is turned, the sides actually rotate towards the flame, instead of one side sagging towards the flame the entire time.

Hold the marshmallow just 1-3 inches above the tops of the flames, so that it's exposed to the heat but not directly to the flame. The trick is to allow the marshmallow to heat evenly, so that the inside begins to melt, and the outside turns a golden brown. If it catches on fire, it's ruined for the s'more -- pull it off and eat it a la carte.

Once the marshmallow begins to sag to that most of it hangs below the stick, it's ready. Pull it away from the heat. Place it on top of the chocolate, and then carefully place the empty cracker half on top. GENTLY hold them together, not squeezing too tightly, with the half edges facing the long portion of the stick slightly colser together. Slide the stick out of the S'more, and serve -- first S'more should be served to your beloved or a favored friend, last s'more to the s'more maker. This method, while painstaking, should guarantee maximum gooeyness, stickiness, and intermingling of flavors and textures, and should also guarantee you the amorous response desired from your beloved.

Enjoy. The s'mores, that is.

"peace Protest" My Ass!

Thanks for the Memory to Michelle Malkin via Ace.

I would like to Formally apologize to the Members of the San Francisco Police Department for ever having complained about vandalism to my vehicle for political reasons. What one of their own suffered is far worse.

Look at the picture. Read the details of the instance. Then tell me that the people who did this are "Pacifists"

Bullshit. I've documented it time and again on this Blog, countless incident after incident in which the left, the very people who cpmplain about the oprressive tactics of the right, resort to intimidation and dirty tactics to stifle the voices of their opposition. This is just the ugliest manifestation of it yet.

Tell me, what's the difference between this and what some brownshirted SA thug would have done to a German Polizei in the 1930's? If you're on the left, are you happy now? Are you proud of the fact that throughout the past 5 years, out of a compulsive, obsessive hatred for George W Bush, the Left as a collective movement has been so willing to embrace and encourage every fringe group and extremist element that might just help them bring down the hated Chimpie McHitler that those selfsame fringe groups and extremist elements have become emboldened enough to engage in this kind of brutal behavior? And if we say of Germany that those who failed to speak out against the Nazis were as complicit in their atrocities, what does that say of the modern left that fails to speak out, and in fact even celebrates, such acts of senseless violence on their behalf?

So you say these thugs don't speak for you? Prove it. Speak for yourselves. Speak out, speak up, separate yourselves in strong words and stronger deeds from these elements, or your continued silence will speak volumes more than your words ever can.

Good News, Tempered

A while back, I asked my readers to pray for my infant son, who was facing the prospect of hernia surgery.

Today, we received the good news from the doctor: The hernia has closed on its own, and he won't need surgery. Thanks again to everyone.

Of course, with the good news, there's always a catch. He apparently has pink eye in both eyes AND an ear infection, so he could still use your prayers.

Thanks again.

An Open Letter to the People of London

Permit me the honor of extending to you all the support, empathy, and encouragement I can muster as you cope with the aftermath of the cowardly, barbaric bombing attacks of July 7th. My thoughts and prayers have been with you since I heard the news. Britain and the United States once again find themselves with a commonality, a shared experience that draws us close to one another. We owe the very existence of our beloved country to brave settlers of English stock. we share a common language, a common ancestry, and a common cause: the cause of Freedom. While we purchased our independence from you in blood, we have re-established a bond of friendship and kinship in the same blood. Time and again, our two countries have proven each others' staunchest allies. And just as you stood by us in the dark days following 9/11, so we will stand by you now.

Watching the news coverage, I was deeply moved. And while I was moved to sorrow and anger and disgust at the savagery visdited upon you, I was most deeply moved, and stirred, by your response. It was the response of a Britain that I hoped, and believed, still existed. I was inspired by the defiance, the resolve, the courage you displayed. It speaks to your character as a culture that you fight the hardest, stand the straightest, and endure the bravest when your backs are against the wall. When I think of Britain in times like this, I think of one phrase: Bloodied but unbowed. Your ancestors who stood up to the Armada, or to the Luftwaffe, would have recognized themselves in you yesterday.

And so I encourage you with the words of one of your finest orators, a man who had ancestral ties to and a love of my land, Sir Winston Churchill. I imagine he'll forgive me if I change a few words:

Upon this battle depends the survival of Christian civilization. upon it depends our own British life and the long continuity of our institutions and our Empire. The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us now. [Al Quaeda] knows that it will have to break us in this island or lose the war. If we can stand up to them, all Europe may be free and the life of the world may move forward into broad, sunlit uplands. But if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age, made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by the lights of perverted [religion]. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will say, "This was their finest hour."

UPDATE:
(Thanks for the Memory to Maximum Leader at Naked Villainy)

Bring Back That Grillin' Feeling

As my more regular readers know, I've stayed away from the grill for a couple of weeks. But this past weekend, I was ready to get back into the game. I picked up a roughly 2-lb. piece of buffalo (American Bison) tri-tip from our local butcher the other day, and desperate for a new recipe, I came up with the following. In my mind, it wasn’t much of a recipe, but The Feared Redhead insisted I post it. It requires the use of a grill outside, AND a stove inside (or you can put the skillet on the grill).

buffalo (not Buffalo) Steak Sandwich

buffalo tri-tip roast, 2 lbs.
1 loaf ciabatta or other rustic bread
1 red onion
1 cup sliced crimini mushrooms
¼ cup blue cheese
2 yellow onions
1 head butter lettuce
dry rub
olive oil
1 tbsp butter
1 bottle pale or amber ale

Apply dry rub to steak. One of these days, when I’ve codified it, I’ll provide my own rub recipe, but for now, any good grilling rub intended for beef will do. Place the meat on a grill heated to medium to high heat, turning every 5 minutes, until a meat thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the meat registers the desired temperature. I prefer roughly 150 degrees F, or medium rare.

Buffalo is a tricky meat to cook. If done right, it’s tenderer than beef, but it’s also leaner, which means it’s easier to overcook. For steaks, 3-6 minutes a side is ideal. But when cooking meat of roast thickness, things get dicier. It’s possible to dry out the outer layer of meat before the inside is at the proper temperature. To prevent this, baste the roast with beer after each turn. When the meat is at the correct temperature, remove from the heat and let it rest.

Slice your bread into sandwich-sized lengths, then slice these down the middle. Rub each open side with olive oil, place on the grill for roughly 3 to 5 minutes, or until toasted.

Once the meat has rested for about 10-15 minutes, slice thinly across the grain. At this time, slice the tomatoes into round slices, about ¼ inch thick. Rinse the lettuce and break leaves off at the base. Do NOT cut the lettuce.

Slice your onion thinly. Crimini mushrooms (actually small versions of the portabella mushroom) should be sliced thicker, about ¼ inch in thickness. In a medium-sized skillet, heat the butter until it melts and begins to sizzle, but do not brown. Add your onion slices, sauté until clear. Add the mushrooms, continue to cook until the mushrooms begin to brown, add blue cheese. Continue to cook until the blue cheese begins to melt, remove from heat.

Place several slices of buffalo onto the bottom halves of the bread. Spoon on the mushrooms, onions, and cheese. Plate open-faced, place the lettuce and tomato slices on the second half of each sandwich. Serve with Gourmet kettle-cooked potato chips, Salt and Vinegar is an excellent choice of flavor.

Oh, and if you happen to have an extra bottle of the beer you used to baste the meat, well, that's not so unlucky either.

Blogging Break

Sorry for the lack of posts the last couple of days, folks, I've been fighting a nasty virus. Should be back up to speed by Monday.

Mixed Emotions

Here's how it went down:

Yesterday, after the 6:30 AM feeding of The Lad, I decided to get an early start on the day's festivities by breaking out our flag and flying it from the front porch. But it wasn't where I usually keep it. It wasn't in any of our closets, or in the garage. It wasn't anywhere. It was at this point that The Feared Redhead reminded me that I had insisted on flying it on Memorial Day, since the rest of the day would not go as I had hoped. And I recall speciically that when I got home that night, I noted the empty flagpole and mentally kicked myself for forgetting to fly the flag. But I had not forgotten. Someone had stolen my flag on Memorial Day.

As soon as the realization hit me, I felt mad, and sad, and stupid, but mostly sad.

I felt stupid because it had taken me this long to realize it was stolen. To be fair to myself, there was only one flag holiday between the two days (Flag Day), and the hecticness of life had prevented me from even trying to fly it that day. I'm ashamed to admit that, I was just getting used to owning a flag and living in a place where I could fly it.

I felt mad, because someone had stolen a flag that I had purchased with my own hard-rearned money, and had gone to the trouble of flying as a sign of patriotism, as well as out of respect for my father and grandfather.

But mostly, I was sad. It broke my heart, really. I'm not sure which would be worse -- if the thief had no regard whatsoever for what he was stealing, and was just being a petty thief, or if the person understood fully the significance of their act and was intentionally desecrating what was for me a precious symbol of freedom and patriotism. In some ways, the latter, while more outrageous, would be less tragic. If old glory has so faded in people's esteem that it's not big deal to steal it, how far have we sunk from the days when Barbara Fritchie's sentiments rang true with all of us? I fear that my own slow realization gives credence to this possibility.

On the other hand, given the other incidents I've encountered in this community, I wouldn't put it past someone from around here to have fully recognized the importance of the flag and all it symbolizes, and to have stolen it out of sheer spite and hatred of it.

Of course, you KNOW what the first thing I did was, don't you?

The new flag flew proudly for the rest of the day.

The Fight Is On, But Be Not Weary

Thanks for the Memory to Maximum Leader at Naked Villainy.

Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor is retiring.

Good.

As Ace has pointed out, O'Connor has been inconsistent, even self-contradictory, in her rulings, and her opinions tend to muddy the waters, not clear them, which is one of the main purposes of the court.

So who will replace her? I honestly don't know. I'm not a legal wonk, and don't know the roster of judges from whom to choose. I will make one predicition:

It will be a woman.

The precedent, if you'll pardon the pun, was set when Clarence Thomas was nominated to fill the vacancy left by Thurgood Marshall. It can be argued either that Bush 41 knew that any nomination other than another African American would be attacked as being damaging to the progress of Civil Rights, or that he made sure his nominee was black to defuse any furor over his nominee's politics (a tactic that failed, as we all recall), or, most likely, both. Based on this precedent, I find it highly unlikely that we'll end up with anyhting but another woman to replace O'Connor. The perception has become that if the position was filled by a minority in the past, it must be filled by that same minority in the future. And that's too bad.

Don't get me wrong -- I'm not saying there are no women qualified for the position, nor that the MOST qualified candidate isn't a woman. Again, I don't know who the candidates are. But I am arguing that it shouldn't be a prerequisite that the candidate be a woman.

The reasoning behind the trend are understandable, if mistaken. It's the same reason that people alaways want to see more minority members of congress, or of the workplace. The argument is that those places should be representative of the population. And in the case of Congress, it's at least an arguable point. A representative from the same ethnic group and culture may be better equipped to represent their desires and opinions and priorities.

But the Supreme Court is not intended to be the House of Representatives. It's the judicial Branch, not the Legislative. It's job is to interpret the law, not make it. Thus, the prime requirement for a member of SCOTUS should be an understanding of the Constitution.

Not membership in a particular demographic.

Update:

While Ace is pessimistic about the outcome of this, his readers are a bit more upbeat, and actually have some good suggestions if a woman is to be nominated. I hope they're right.

Ve Haff Vays Off Makingk You Talk...

Like, you know, asking...



If you're a blogger, go check it out.

Going for a Wok

Last Saturday, I decided to throw down with a multi-course meal for The Feared Redhead. I went with an asian theme, making Pork Fried Rice, Chinese Chicken Salad, and Spicy Orange Beef. The rice turned out excellent, the other two were a bit disappointing. I used my Orange Chicken recipe and substituted beef, I think I sliced it too thin. Per her request, I'm keeping that recipe to Chjicken for now, she claims it's one of my best. So I thought I'd share it with you this week:

Spicy Orange Chicken

1 lb. cubed chicken
1 bundle green onions
1 can frozen orange juice concentrate (thawed)
1 cup soy sauce
¼ cup brown sugar
½ cup Sriracha style chili sauce
1 tbsp sesame oil
3 tbsp vegetable or peanut oil
5 cloves garlic, minced
¼ cup minced celery
White pepper
1 tbsp red chili pepper flakes
Sesame seeds
Zest and juice from 1 large orange

Rinse the bundle of green onions. Cut the white bulbs and lower stems away from the green portion of the stems. Chop the white portion finely. Slice the green stems into thin rings. Keep the two parts separate.

In a large glass mixing bowl, combine the fresh orange juice, OJ concentrate, soy sauce, chili sauce, and brown sugar. Stir until the sugar is dissolved.

In a large skillet, saucepan, or wok, combine the sesame oil and vegetable or peanut oil and heat over medium high heat. Once the oil is hot, add the onion whites, half the garlic, and the celery. Cook until the onions and celery are clear. Add the chicken, sprinkle with white pepper, and brown. When the chicken has browned, add the liquid. Bring to a boil, reduce to medium heat, and add the rest of the garlic, orange zest, and chili flakes. Simmer and allow sauce to reduce by half, stirring frequently. Add half of the green onions, remove from heat and allow to cool for 5-10 minutes. Serve over steamed rice, garnish with the rest of the green onions and sesame seeds (and more chili flakes if you like it hot).

As a postscript, it was a gorgeous sunny day Saturday when I cooked this. I'd committed to cooking it, but promised myself I'd grill on Sunday. Which I did.

It rained.

All Quiet in the Hundred Acre Wood

Thanks for the Memory to the Llama Butchers. Some of my thoughts here were first posted as comments there.

I was very sad to learn that the men who did the voices of Tigger and Piglet for many years died over the weekend. I'm especially saddened since I also learned form the butcher Boys that the Narrator, Gopher, Pooh, Mrs. Kanga, Owl, and Rabbit are already gone.

I've come to feel that your childhood truly ends not when you grow old, but when the people who made childhood special die. I was first hit with this when we lost Mel Blanc and Jim Henson. This hit me even harder. I'm almost in tears. What makes it worse is the point well made that most of the recent pablum put out under the Pooh aegis is, well, rot.

And worst of all is what was for me (though not for those in the know) a new and distressing revelation, that of A.A. Milne's role in persecuting PG Wodehouse, as well as the poor relationship between Milne and Christopher Robin Milne. The quote that pierced my heart was this one by the younger Milne: "I shall never get over my dislike of being the 'real live Christopher Robin'"

You see, I wanted so much to be, and to a cetain extent was, Christopher Robin. I was a Very Sick Child. An Almost-Died-Several-Times Child. An In-and-Out-of-Hospitals-More-Times-Than-Liz-Taylor-In-and-Out-of-Matrimony Child. And through it all, I had one constant companion, one Samwise to my Fevered Frodo, one friend who stuck closer than a brother: my stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh bear. He accompanied me into every surgery prep, and waited for me in every recovery room. He was there for me to hug, and to cry into, he let me practice with a hypodermic needle on him so that I had someone who knew how I felt. I played with him, slept with him, talked to him. When I was stuck inside sick, I would create fantastic adventures for us to go on in the bed that became a life raft on the high seas, a rocket in space, a tank rumbling through Normandy. I kept him close for years, past an age most would consider normal, but the bond was hard to explain andf harder to break. He eventually became so loved, so worn, that his eyes, throat and parts of his arms had been replaced with mismatched cloth, his nose with a button, and his fabric, in the end, so worn that it couldn't hold a stitch. In short, he was my velveteeen rabbit. I still have him, unreparable, sealed in a ziplock back and kept in a box of keepsakes.

He was a silly old bear. But he was loyal, and patient, and he was my partner in expeditions through my own "Hundred Acre Wood".

UPDATE:

I really should have mentioned Dr. Seuss, but while his death is arguably the most remembered of all those I've mentioned, he never had the emotional impact on me that the others did. I enjoyed Cat-in-the-Hat. I lived for Muppets, Pooh, and Looney Tunes. Also, I'll add a couple of extra happy memories, just to make up for the tears.

The Feared Redhead and I met over the phone, long distance, introduced by mutual friends. We had been conversing on the phone for months and had long since fallen in love before we ever met in person, at Minneapolis-St. Paul International. We needed to have a way of identifying each other, so, based on my story of growing up with Pooh, and her feisty redheadedness, we exchanged gifts -- a stuffed pooh from her to me, a stuffed Tigger from me to her.

We have gone to great lengths to deck The Lad out in Winniebilia -- Classic Pooh in particular. Crib sheets, stroller, all sorts of knicknacks. But the coup de grace happened this weekend when, at a garage sale, I found as boxed set of Winnie the Pooh, House at Pooh Corner, When We Were Very Young, and Now We Are Six, all in excellent condition, all for four dollars.

Here's Your Chance to Fiddle While Rome Burns

In "honor" of the Supreme Court's ruling on Eminent Domain, a group of us have decided to start a Constitution Dead Pool. Here's your chance to "bet" on which part of the constitution will get dismantled next!

That Clarence Thomas is one Bad...

Shut Yo Mouth!
I'm just talkin' 'bout Clarence...
I can dig it!

Thanks for the Memory to CCW1220 posting over at his Blog Ideals & Impossibilities, as well as at our sister Blog, Head West Turn Right. He's got the rundown of the dissents written by Justices O'Connor and Thomas in the Eminent Domain ruling. I have to disagree on one point: Clarence doesn't open a CAN of Whoop-Ass, he opens the whle damned TWELVE PACK:

If such “economic development” takings are for a “public use,” any taking is, and the Court has erased the Public Use Clause from our Constitution…

Today’s decision is simply the latest in a string of our cases construing the Public Use Clause to be a virtual nullity, without the slightest nod to its original meaning.

The Court has elsewhere recognized “the overriding respect for the sanctity of the home that has been embedded in our traditions since the origins of the Republic,” Payton, supra, at 601, when the issue is only whether the government may search a home. Yet today the Court tells us that we are not to “second-guess the City’s considered judgments,” ante, at 18, when the issue is, instead, whether the government may take the infinitely more intrusive step of tearing down petitioners’ homes. Something has gone seriously awry with this Court’s interpretation of the Constitution.

Boo Yah. Dear God, thank you for creating Clarence Thomas with a set of balls the size of the planet Jupiter and with a titanium composition. Amen

I do agree with ccw on two things:

1. Thomas saves the best for last: For all these reasons, I would revisit our Public Use Clause cases and consider returning to the original meaning of the Public Use Clause: that the government may take property only if it actually uses or gives the public a legal right to use the property.

2. Thomas should be the next Chief Justice.

SCOTUS Manages to Piss EVERYONE Off

Thanks for the Memory to Vic over at Darth Apathy.

The Supreme Court has ruled in favor of the city of New London, CT in a case regarding property rights. In a close 5-4 vote, the Court ruled that cities can use Eminent Domain to seize private property to use for private development.

A few pertinent bits from the AP article:

...

The 5-4 ruling represented a defeat for some Connecticut residents whose homes are slated for destruction to make room for an office complex. They argued that cities have no right to take their land except for projects with a clear public use, such as roads or schools, or to revitalize blighted areas.

As a result, cities now have wide power to bulldoze residences for projects such as shopping malls and hotel complexes in order to generate tax revenue.

Local officials, not federal judges, know best in deciding whether a development project will benefit the community, justices said.

...

At issue was the scope of the Fifth Amendment, which allows governments to take private property through eminent domain if the land is for "public use."

Susette Kelo and several other homeowners in a working-class neighborhood in New London, Conn., filed suit after city officials announced plans to raze their homes for a riverfront hotel, health club and offices.

New London officials countered that the private development plans served a public purpose of boosting economic growth that outweighed the homeowners' property rights, even if the area wasn't blighted.

Isn't that great? Say good bye to your right to private property. This blows the door WIDE OPEN for the government to seize your property on the most specious and arbitrary of pretenses. And it means that if a business wants your land, all they have to do is convince the local city council that letting them have it will "benefit the economy", and hey! Presto! They can have it seized, and the government gets to decide how m,uch you get paid for your property.

Thomas Jefferson must be doing 50,000 RPM's in his grave right now. This is disgusting. When you manage to anger the folks at Democratic Underground AND Protest Warrior all in one fell swoop, you have truly and impressively screwed the pooch.

This is disgusting. It's angering, and it's frightening. I'm trying to avoid hyperbole here, but when I tried to think back to another SCOTUS decision that seemed to my mind as bad, the words "Dred Scott" came to mind and refuse to go away.

I'm looking forward to reading the opinions of the dissenters. There's some real anger over this, if the comments in the blogosphere are an indication:

True Conservatism

Michelle Malkin

GayOrbit

Ranting Right Wing Howler

The Limburg Letter Who wins the prize for the pest quote: While You Were Busy Protesting The Patriot Act the government took your house. I'm sure the residents of New London, Connecticut will be happy to know that while their houses are being demolished, their library records will be safely locked away.

He also does the best job of highlighting the fact that it was the liberal wing of SCOTUS who just legalized the rights rape of small property owners at the hands of big business.


I'm livid. And the more I think about it, the more livid I get. TFR and I dream constantly of the day when we can save up the money, rebuild our credit, and buy a home. Thanks to the Supreme Court, if and when that dream comes true, all it would take is the whim of a local city council to wake us from that dream into a nightmare.

UPDATE:

Professor Bainbridge has posted an excellent rant AND a copy of Justice O'Connor's dissent

"Any property may now be taken for the benefit of another private party, but the fallout from this decision will not be random," O'Connor wrote. "The beneficiaries are likely to be those citizens with disproportionate influence and power in the political process, including large corporations and development firms."

That woman can write.


Update II:

Russell over at Mean Mr. Mustard quickly and succincttly puts paid to the "Just Price" myth.

More Fun with Theology

Cabin Master over at Uncle Sam's Cabin has their results of the Theology Quiz I took a while back, and also linked to the results of another similar quiz. I decided to play along. I took the quiz twice, losing the results the first time, but here's how I came out:

Your results for Christian Traditions Selector

1: Pentecostal/Charismatic/Assemblies of God (100%)
2: Anabaptist (Mennonite/Quaker etc.) (82%)
3: Congregational/United Church of Christ (77%)
4: Eastern Orthodox (77%)
5: Methodist/Wesleyan/Nazarene (76%)
6: Baptist (Reformed/Particular/Calvinistic) (73%)
7: Presbyterian/Reformed (73%)
8: Anglican/Episcopal/Church of England (68%)
9: Lutheran (68%)
10: Seventh-Day Adventist (68%)
11: Baptist (non-Calvinistic)/Plymouth Brethren/Fundamentalist (64%)
12: Roman Catholic (55%)
13: Church of Christ/Campbellite (47%)

The results threw me, since I tend to look askance at overt displays of pentecostal worship. I supppose it had to do with other issues raised in the quize. Also, considering that my father was ordained in a small, independent Christian Church denomination, and then in a small denomination (the Missionary Church) with Anabaptist and Wesleyan influences, most of the rest of the results seemed to make sense.

San Diego Snowstorm

Time for this week's installment of stories from my father's Navy days. This one involves "Comshaw", which, as my father explained to me, is the art of using *ahem* "Creative Requisitioning Techniques" to obtain supplies and material, often for the purpose of fulfilling a duty or carrying out a mission with which you have been tasked, but for which you have not been properly equipped. Mind you, it's also used for less pressing needs.

In this case, the fact that crewmembers on my father's ship were skilled in the art of Comshaw was a double edged sword. The ships cook managed to finagle an excellent deal on a large supply of food stuffs from outside official channels. Unfortunately, the supply consisted of cabbage. Copious amounts of cabbage. As my father liked to say, they were served cabbage 5 nights a week, and on the other two they had leftovers.

I don't suppose it takes much imagination on ther reader's part to realize that the crew soon developed strong urges to eat anything BUT cabbage. It is at this point that the other edge cut, and for the sonar crew, their comshaw abilities proved to be a silver lining. On a ship as small as the Bausell, provisions were taken on board in a bucket-brigade stile chain of sailors passing items hand-to hand. The sonar men saw to it that they always had at least two volunteers participating in the brigade, and that they were stationed next to each other. The first would make not of the items being passed down the line, and when he saw a particularly tasty item, which was invariably earmarked for the officer's mess (dining hall), he would give a non-verbal cue, and then pass the item on. One time it was peanut butter and jelly, a rare treat. The next sonar man in line, instead of passing it down the line, would toss it up over his head, where an accomplice would catch it, then hide it. Eventually it made its way to the sonar shack. There, there was a metal panel which was easily removed and concealed a small empty space between the sonar equipment and computers, and the bulkhead (wall). A thin wire was strung from the hatch into the walkway leading to the shack, down in the shack to a dustpan, and served as an alarm. While the smell drove them crazy, the officers NEVER caught my father or his buddies, who always waited until the dead of night to eat their ill-gotten booty.

There was one occasion, however, when despite eluding the officers, the sonar men failed to enjoy the fruits of their labor. It was the time they managed to "requisition" a 5-callon tub full of potato chips. The third man in the comshaw team found himself in a position where he had to hide them temproarily to avoid detection. He looked around, and found what seemed the perfect hiding place: Dark, obscure, and with a round opening of the right curcumference. He hid the tub, vowing to return as quickly as possible when the heat was off.

What he failed to take into account was the conscientious nature of his shipmates. A while later, the ship's torpedoman's mate came to go through his daily maintenance routine. He checked his gauges, swung the tubes perpendicular to the ship, filled the flasks with several thousand Punds of air pressure, and hit the launch button.

My mother still maintains that, in hindsight, they were lucky noone got their head taken off. Not knowing the height of the tubes, I can't say. What I do know is that the ractual results were less tragic but very spectacular. The tub shot out of the tub, hurtled across the dock, and slammed into the side of another ship alongside them with a resounding clang. The force of the impact flattended the can to a platter, and, as my father reported, there was a snowstorm of potato chips that covered the dock.

Getting Really Old

Back before the election, I blogged on an incident where my car was vandalized for sporting a pro-Bush bumper sticker. In the passion of the elections, someone decided that it was a legitimate means of registering their dissent to deface my property. But it hasn't let up since the elections. Not only is it obvious from the scratches on the replacement sticker that further attempts have been made to remove it as well, but both TFR and I have been subjected to dirty looks and obscenities shouted at us as we've driven in and gotten out of our car.

But this time, someone decided not to try to remove our sticker. They decided to add one. I won't repeat the obscenities it contained, but rather leave it to your imagination to decide how they chose to enumerate the old tired "chickenhawk" cliche.

You know what, I'm tired of this. I'm tired of blogging on incidents where Republican campaigners were harassed, attacked, and vandalized, of reading of incidents where people defame the very troops they disingenuously claim to "support", of hearing hyperbolic, hyperventilating, just plain HYPE of people who are willing to equate every action they disagree with to the most evil, oppressive regimes in history just because they have chosen George W. Bush as their own Quixotic windmill, and most of all, I'm tired of being told that *I'M* the one on the side of oppression, when I've noticed that it's those who dfisagree with me who seem most willing to silence or shout down their opponents.

So to those on the left who tell me that "dissent is patriotic", I say to you, it may be, but bullying, strongarm tactics aren't. So start standing up to those who side with you politically when they step over the line, or sit down and shut the F$#@ up.