The Continuing Self Destruction of the Libertarian Party.....Continued

If I get all this correctly, it all started with a Resolution, one version of which can be found here, to be put to a vote during the National Convention, which calls on the federal government--the FBI, specifically--to ante up more resources for fighting child pornography--by spending less on adult victimless crimes. Sounds ok.....if you're stupid. While I might write out my reasons for saying so at some point, Reason Number One is: Never ask the federal government to increase spending on anything. They'll spend more money all right, and the result will be more child pornography.

The LP national office then sent out a press release, which can be found here. One candidate , Mary Ruwart, apparently expressed something negative about the wisdom of enjoining such a fringe issue (I think all rational individuals can agree to detest child pornography), and was called to task by Mark Schreiber, campaign manager for another candidate, Wayne Allyn Root, who apparently implied that Ms Ruwart was not opposed to child pornography. Writes Ms Ruwart:

Consequently, you can understand my shock when Mark Schreiber, "quoted" me as saying that "pedophilia is OK" in my book, Short Answers to the Tough Questions, this weekend at the Indiana LP Convention. Mr. Scribner is the campaign manager for LP presidential hopeful Wayne Allyn Root.

You can find her full comment here.

Now, you see why I continue to think the Libertarian Party is coming apart at the seams. LP has always held that its most important function is to try to educate the electorate that we'd all be better off with less government, not more; with more freedom and personal responsibility, not less. Running candidates is, rationally, more to allow the candidates to reach cameras and microphones that would otherwise be denied, to the purpose of letting the candidates make the case for smaller government to a larger audience than would otherwise be possible.

No rational person ever really thought that LP would elect a President. A few candidates for local offices have been elected, and that's great, but a President of the United States? C'mon!

All that aside, the detestable charge allegedly levelled by Mr Schreiber at Ms Ruwart, and his boss' failure to both apologize and sanction Schreiber, is just the kind of filthy politics we don't need in the LP. I guess my reaction will be to state that I will not vote for Mr Root, and that I will not return to the LP as long as either Mr Root or Mr Schreiber are involved.

I suggest that LP not nominate Mr Root for President, or for any other office.

There are liars, damned liars, and politicians.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

The Continuing Self-Destruction of the Libertarian Party

For starters, I'll have to admit to a degree of ignorance regarding the recent events within my party of choice for these past thirty-five years. Though I've almost always voted for LP candidates come election day, I haven't belonged, nor been particularly active in the Party since after Roger MacBride's candidacy in 1976. Neither did I have the time and money to go chasing around the country to attend meetings and conventions, nor did ol' career builder me have the inclination to do so.

Standing at a long arm's length from the Party for these past many years, I often read of such things as political infighting, rule breaking and financial abuses in the upper offices. There were a number of embarrassing fiascoes highlighted by the attempted Presidential candidacy of radio talker Howard Stern, and the virtual "food fight" that was that year's nomination convention.

I was always a fan of the "Pledge," the signing of which was a a requirement for many years. It's also been controversial for almost as many years. many so-called libertarians in the Party wanted to do away with the Pledge, to make the Party more inclusive.

It was a deal breaker for me. If a prospective member can't honestly take that Pledge, then he's no libertarian. Period. Having recently thought of recommitting myself to the Party, I've heard that they, in fact, have withdrawn the requirement to sign the Pledge. Until that decision is reconsidered, I won't be involving myself.

I will still, however, continue to vote for LP candidates I find significantly more palatable than those of the two branches of the Boot On Your Neck Party.

A recent event has come to my attention, though, which will require some study and thought. Seems one of the candidates for the nomination for President has allegedly made some snide distortions of a statement of another candidate, regarding child pornography. This, we cannot have.

Candidates vying for the right to run for any office under the label, "Libertarian Party" must argue their differences honestly and honorably. When I find whether or not this candidate has distorted the truth, I'll make it public in a subsequent post. Anyone who will stoop that low to secure the party's nomination belongs with the Democrats or Republicans, where that sort of thing is normal.

Politics, when there's money to be stolen, is the home of thieves.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Chicago! Not My Kind of Town!

First, so we aren't accused of calling the kettle black, I have to stipulate that the rules for keeping and bearing arms in El Pueblo de Los Angeles are not only stupid, but unConstitutional, too. In LA, one can own a gun, but he must go through a maze of federal, state, and local city laws regarding purchasing, owning, transporting, carrying and shooting a gun contain a labyrinth of potholes and mindless pitfalls, every one of which is designed to keep the victim, particularly the poor victim, disarmed.

If one has avoided legal entanglements and if one has been nice to his spouse/significant other throughout one's life, he can legally own a handgun in Los Angeles--but that's just the first major hurdle. The legal LA gun owner cannot carry a handgun either concealed or openly without a permit, and no permits are issued to "little people." None. Rosie O'Dozie can get permits for her bodyguards, but yours truly, who has over forty years of shooting experience and several handguns, none of which has ever killed or injured anyone while in my possession, can't. Even if I had police combat pistol training (which I'll get sooner instead of later--read: while I still can!), I couldn't get a permit.

The dopey gang children, who never have problem getting guns, have been killing each other for years, with the not-too-rare killing of an innocent, seem to be above the law.

But let's focus 'pon Chicago. The Windy City, like New York and communist China, don't allow its inhabitants to own guns at all. Well, if you're well enough connected, there can be exceptions, but the average working stiff remains an unarmed target on the shooting gallery that is Chicago. Seems the evil Mayor Daley wants to see that only the dopey gang children are armed.

Apparently, Chicago had a particularly violent week, the one just past. Check out the MyWay News story available on Drudge. In it, the criminally deluded mayor says:

A fired-up Daley blasted the gun industry and called on parents and adults to do their part by intervening to help troubled youth and by working to keep others on the right path.

"I don't want people to wait for Mayor Daley to call a meeting. I want you to call a meeting in your home with your children and loved ones. I want you to go next door and talk to those children next door. I want the parents of the block to say 'This block will be free of violence,'" he said.

Well, how do you suppose the folks on the block are going to be free of violence if they've been disarmed while the thugs are bristling with firearms? Perhaps they ought to call in Macaulay Culkin (as Kevin McCallister in the movie "Home Alone") as their home defense expert. Only thing--then, the ever pro-criminal Mayor Daley will undoubtedly declare the use of ordinary household items and toys illegal to use in defense of one's home and family.

Because it's legal in Chicago to vote multiple times and for illegal aliens, non-residents and the recently deceased to vote, the evil Mayor will stay in office as long as he wants, and will then pick his son as his successor, self defense promises to be illegal in Chicago for a long time to come.

I think I'd have liked Chicago better in the 1930's. They had the same gangs (perhaps a bit more civilized), but the average guy could legally defend himself.

People should not be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

What Will We Use For a Swastika Now That Swastikas Ain't Cool?

Swastikas are hated in the various United States, by most people. They won't play in the federal government as a symbol for our gestapo. It might cause a resistance to form. Americans would be very good at resistance if the heat in the proverbial pot were increased too quickly. The feds have been turning it up pretty quickly these past few years, and the portion of America that's not asleep with dreams of the security of a benevolent government, taking needed steps to protect us from an enemy that would destroy us all, are becoming increasingly aware that this is no longer the America of Thomas Paine, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, et al.

In a practice run at setting up checkpoints at all rail stations in the country, the feds have been helping finance the New York City police department's quasi military control of the city's subways. You know, the famous subways of many a stage play, movie and anecdote, in which one can get to within a few blocks of just about anywhere in the city worth going for a nickel. Of course it, like everything else, is no longer a nickel.

Police started, somewhat over a year ago, checking random grocery bags and book totes for what....? Oh, yes! It was for bombs. Everyone in city government and the media said it wasn't a violation of one's Fourth Amendment rights. If one wanted to avoid the search, he could walk from Fifth and Broadway to Jones Beach. Carrying one's MP3 player, Speedos, a sandwich and a thermonuclear device.

No big deal. If you take the subway, we'll just take a peek in your daypack and you're on your way.

Well, as government takes away your rights in big bites, and missions creep along the baseboards, it didn't stop there. Magee Hickey, a reporter for WCBSTV News in New York, reports here that NYPD officers, clad in full armor and carrying MP5 submachine guns and M4 carbines, and accompanied by drug--I mean bomb sniffing dogs are now manning (and dogging) the various subway stations in the city.

The story also states that similar squads of storm troops have been stationed around the Empire State building, Wall Street and other New York landmarks for years. What a joy! I wonder if they were stationed around the World Trade Center prior to Sept 11th.

All this money being spent, when all that'd be needed is an armed populace! Armed on their own nickel and unpaid, happy to just consider themselves capable of their own defense.

Welcome to the brave new world.

This is, of course, just a trial balloon, to see if the most compliant of all Americans, New Yorkers, will rebel. They won't. As long as the heat isn't turned up too fast.

NYPD, the organization whose members like to find a poor foreigner in a doorway, brace him (in plain clothes), and when he reaches for his wallet with his id, shoot him over 50 times (only hitting him 16 times. I wonder how many times they reloaded), is in charge of this fiasco. My guess is, it'll be a relatively short time until several subway riders will be killed after these Jack-booted thugs open up the MP5's at some drunk who runs when they brace him, and bullet ricochets fill the train station. They probably won't hit the drunk.

Why do you think these New York's finest are taking the precaution to wear armor?

I mentioned in a previous entry, there's little more the members of the Boot On Your Neck Party (both sects A and B), want than to control Americans' ability to travel at will. They'd put it in a request to Santa Claus every year, except that hizzonner Mr Claus can't go to New York any more without his bag being searched.

So, if the Neocons and the leftists (but, I repeat myself) get their way, and there are checkpoints every few blocks on every street, manned by armored thugs with submachine guns, what will be the symbol emblazoned 'pon their helmets and shoulders?

A cross within a crescent, maybe?

They've killed Freedom! Those bastards!

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Stunning Insult to WWII Vets

In one of its more amazing efforts to carry algorian water in the advancement of the global warming hoax, Time magazine has reached a new low in its disregard for American veterans. An article by Jeff Poor on the Business and Media Institute website shows the cover of the current issue of Time magazine, which parodies the raising of the flag over Mount Surabachi (in which about 7000 Allied troops were killed and over 20,000 wounded) following the fierce and costly Battle of Iwo Jima.

We can say what we want about the discourse or lack of it by the Roosevelt Administration, in the opening moments that lead to the Pearl Harbor attack by the Japanese Navy, but the US Marines, as well as all the other soldiers, sailors and fliers involved in the war in the Pacific acted with extreme competence and valor throughout.

Survivors of the battle, and of the war wherever they fought, justifiably feel very insulted. Those of us who are sons and daughters of the veterans, and who've heard all the stories first hand, are equally so.

Global warming is going to be on the list of the world's greatest hoaxes, in future history books, and the generation now known as the "Baby Boom" in the US are going to be known as gullible, as well as a generation of spoiled brats. Time magazine, already on a downward slide because of an outrageously flawed editorial point of view, is on its way to insolvency.

“I think since I’ve been back at the magazine, I have felt that one of the things that’s needed in journalism is that you have to have a point of view about things,” [Time managing editor Richard] Stengel said. “You can’t always just say ‘on the one hand, on the other’ and you decide. People trust us to make decisions. We’re experts in what we do. So I thought, you know what, if we really feel strongly about something let's just say so.”

Well, Mr Stengel, no one will criticize you for having a point of view, unless it's stupid to the point of insult.

I think many mistakes were made at the political level during the period, but for which our involvement might have been far different, but nothing can be said to lessen the valor of the troops, once mobilized. Time magazine's cover should be taken as an insult, not only by the survivors of WWII, but by all veterans. There is no excuse for trivializing the loss of a great part of a generation by trying to equate it with a hot summer.

Last summer wasn't even particularly hot.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Keeping the Kids In a Soundproof, Padded Cell

As I sit in my car at a red light, I often look at the car beside me. Most of the time, if it's a woman, she's on the phone.....but that's not my point right now. I want to focus 'pon the back seat, 'pon which there's often a padded, plastic contraption into which a poor young child is strapped in, more securely than a condemned murderer is strapped into the electric chair.

Sometimes, the poor child's end is fairly similar--burned to death cruelly strapped into a padded coffin which requires someone else to remove to safety.

Proponents of these plastic maidens cite stats that indicate that a child is much safer hog tied in the back seat in the event of a collision or a rollover. I imagine that that is probably true, as far as it goes. On the other hand, when mom and dad are in the front seat arguing, or simply chatting....or when the driver is talking on a phone or driving 85 mph while trying to unwrap a burrito, the youngster strapped into his little cocoon is no safer than were he sitting, untethered, on the hood of the car.

Today's crowded streets and freeways, swarming with cars driven by young men and women who have no notion of the connection between actions and consequences, old folks whose physical and mental abilities have begun to diminish, foreign-born folks who learned to drive (to the extent that they can) very recently, and middle-aged working folk less concerned with getting there than with what they'll do when they arrive. In this venue, driving is a full-time job, for those of us who want to avoid crumpled metal (crumpled plastic, if you drive a foreign-made car), requiring all of one's attention.

To take the foolishness a step farther, I've observed on many more occasions than I like, seeing parents removing the youngster from the car, if he's a baby or a toddler, in his little suicide seat into the store or restaurant, placed it the shopping cart or on the chair or seat as a unit, keeping him immobile and fully bound--often gagged with a mouth plug, through dinner, the shopping trip, or whatever. One has to wonder if, when they get home, they just throw the Kiddie Kocoon into the corner, toddler and all, until bedtime.

So maybe, just maybe, in a certain kind of automotive mishap, a child might survive that otherwise might be killed or seriously injured.

What about the kids whose parents don't do the stupid stuff that causes (or fails to avoid) collisions? Why should they have to suffer, bound and gagged in the rearmost sections of the vehicle, kept in stasis while surging through a scary world that he can't see from his confinement.
Not having young children any more, I can only wonder how they ever grow up sane from their sensory deprivation capsules in the back of their mother's unarmed Armada.

When I was growing up, there were four of us. One of us (my little brother) lay in Mom's lap in front. The other three of us sat in the back. If it was a long drive, usually we'd take turns lying up in the back package shelf, looking at the following cars or up at the stars and moon. Going somewhere in the car was fun, and something to which to look forward.

If it wasn't too cold, we'd open the windows and stick our heads out, like dogs, or shape our hands into lift surfaces out in the wind. We'd wave at the truck drivers and look for out-of-state plates.

We were never involved in a collision.

When my kids were little, it was the same, except we all had seat belts. The key, of course, was to not crash into things with your car. With a couple of minor (no injury) exceptions, I've always been very good at that. I keep my phone in my pocket, and rarely (almost never) answer it until I park the car. "Leave a message, I'll get back to you."

There is, no doubt, reams of evidence indicating that childhood obesity is exacerbated by long periods of enforced immobility in their isolation chambers in the back of the car.

Soon, someone will invent the Kid-ee-muffler to wrap around his face so we won't have to listen to him, either.

Just until we can ship him off to the children's prison.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Never "Press 1 for English"

Private firms can do whatever they want (within limits), and have only to answer to their customers and clients. Most customers choose a firm for products and services based 'pon the quality of those goods, juxtaposed against their cost. That's as it should be.

One of the most annoying trends of our time is the practice of placing a recorded greeting on the answering machine, followed by a request to "Dial 1 for English." I refuse to "Dial--or Press--1 for English."

English has been the semi-official language of all of the various United States for almost all of our history. I'll give exception to the Hispanics native to the Southwestern states, since their ancestors may have lived in those areas when the land was a part of Mexico--although they should, and almost all do speak, read and write English now.

English is the language of technology, of commerce, and of tourism in most of the civilized world, and will likely remain so, if we can stop GW Bush from doing a Jimma Carter on the US Dollar.

Most of the technological marvels we take for granted have been translated from English to other languages; eg automovil, aeroplano, telefono, aire condicionador, refrijerador (Spanish, because that happens to be a language with which I'm familiar). There are similar words for these things in many other languages. Why? Because they were invented, developed and/or most bought and used in English-speaking countries.

A non-English-speaking resident of the United States can almost always count on living a life doing menial work for low pay.

In recognition of these facts, this primitive, but unabashedly agenda-driven tune seems appropriate.

Buenas noches, y mucha buena suerte a todos!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

This Time, It's the Christians

Each year, at many of the government children's prisons, there are occasional special programs or times in which tradition is broken. Among them are Christmas programs, Easter egg hunts, Homecoming parades, the Prom and others.

Some are related to holidays and some mimic pagan seasonal rituals. Some are local in nature and some are related to sports and academic endeavors.

In my school, we had an annual operetta, conducted by the acting program and the school orchestra. We had Homecoming, related to the foopbaw team--we had a dance, a parade, and (of course) the foopbaw game. We had the Junior Prom. We had a Christmas program and the Senior Play. And, both the most bizarre and the most fun, we had the Sadie Hawkins Day Dance.

We all dressed as Li'l Abner characters in salute to, or parody of, Al Capp's comic strip that appeared daily in the Grand Forks Herald those many years ago. For you youngsters, Sadie Hawkins Day (according to Capp), was a day in which the women chased the men, and if a woman was able to catch one, he had to marry her. At GF Central, tradition was that the girls asked the boys to the dance, and everyone dressed in Capp's inimitable hillbilly style.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, we got trouble. Right here in River City. Or, more accurately in this case, Reedsburg, Wisconsin. According to a story in MyWay:

Students at Pineview Elementary in Reedsburg had been dressing in costume all last week as part of an annual school tradition called Wacky Week. On Friday, students were encouraged to dress either as senior citizens or as members of the opposite sex.

No doubt there's a little PC involved in these choices. Wacky Week usually has some kind of theme, according to the story, and is chosen by the students. It sounds like a good diversion from the normal humdrum of children's prison life.

But, Wait! Jim Schneider, program director for the funny-mentalist Voice of Christian Youth America cries foul! "We believe it's the wrong message to send to elementary students," he says. "Our station is one that promotes traditional family values. It concerns us when a school district strikes at the heart and core of the Biblical values. To promote this to elementary-school students is a great error."

I'm having a bit of trouble figuring out the error in having a bit of fun with age and gender. It doesn't sound as if anyone is trying to push other characteristics of age and gender 'pon these kids.

It's not the ACLU this time, nor is it the raging subhumans of fascist islam. It's funny-mentalist Christians!

I have no intention to paint Christians with a broad brush, but there are loons in every movement. It makes me wonder how many islamists are peaceful followers of the "religion of peace, and how many are bloodthirsty, crazed followers of a bloodthirsty child molester.

No idols.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Life In El Pueblo de Los Angeles

Today, I attempted to call the police. No emergency, but as a minor public safety person, I thought I should get this fellow some help before he got himself, or someone else, killed.

Seems this apparently drunken bum was prancing about (on foot) in the lanes of a very busy boulevard. He survived as long as he did mostly because afternoon traffic was beginning to get heavy and cars weren't going as fast as they otherwise would. There was a lot of horn honking and swerving.

He was carrying a cardboard sign 'pon which was written: "Please give me enough money to get enough whiskey to get so drunk I can't do this." I saw no one actually stop to give him anything.

Actually, I was too far away to see what the sign said, so the above is just a guess. Probably a pretty good guess.

I didn't have the phone number for the police, and I didn't think it was an emergency--enough to qualify as a 911 call. I dialed 411 (information) and got a robot. After following the instructions and asking for the Los Angeles police, the robot (tried to) connected me to a disconnected number.

I tried again.

This time I asked for the number, which I dialed myself.

This time, I was connected to another robot, identifying himself as Antonio Vinaigrette, el alcalde del Pueblo de Los Angeles. He thanked me for phoning the City of Los Angeles, and after a campaign ad for his reelection, then advised me that if this was a life-threatening emergency I should dial 911. Then, he repeated the entire message in Spanish! I should have been connected directly to a desk sergeant at a nearby substation but, alas, that would be too simple for this administration.

Just kidding about the campaign ad, but the fact that the voice of el alcalde answered the phone is actually kind of a campaign ad, isn't it?

To add insult to insanity, the next robot voice asked me to Dial One For English.

Well, mes enfants, I NEVER DIAL ONE FOR ENGLISH. Never.

There is no one I want to talk to badly enough to have to ask to speak the language of commerce, the language of technology, the language of America.

Those who don't speak English can dial one. Or uno. Or Ein. Or whatever. I'll dial one if I find myself needing assistance in Mexico--except, in Mexico, they don't ask you to dial one for English. In Mexico, if you don't speak Spanish, good luck. If the phones work.

What do you dial if you're an arab terrorist?

Only in Los Angeles.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Addendum:

I looked in the phone book to find the real phone number for the police, and learned that there isn't one(!). The only non-emergency way to get to the police department is to dial 311, which is a sort of Los Angeles information number.

There's no other way than going through that awful Antonio Vinaigrette sequence, then get asked to DIAL ONE FOR ENGLISH. Looks like the police have found a good way to eat their donuts uninterrupted.

I guess I'll follow the Duke's advice and just fire three shots into the air.