Arizona

I've been thinking about Arizona's new law regarding illegal aliens for several days--since it was passed. At first, it seemed like competing principles--in order to uphold one, I'd have to betray the other.

Normally, I'd have no qualms about inviting any Mexican, Canadian, Englishman, Asian, African or South American to come to any one of the United States to work. In the capitalist society we once were, there was always too much work to do and too few minds and hands to do it. Despite the excesses of some few government subsidized industries and the excesses that attend them, there was plenty of work for immigrants from all parts of the world, and room for them to advance their lives by the use of their own minds and skills.

Today, the once great States have been cruelly smeared into a slimy mess that is becoming more and more like an European fascist dictatorship. Skilled technicians, professionals and scientists are finding it ever harder to enter the country to seek to better their lives, while unskilled laborers are allowed to sneak in, and once here are never to be questioned or challenged.

Many find work, and that's fine. They also are invited to avail themselves of all the largess of a bloated government without having to pay the dues. Free medical care (which most citizens don't get), free government schools (such as they are) many of which offer classes in the student's first language (eliminating the need to learn ours), and the ability to drive the public streets unlicensed and uninsured with impunity (which citizens cannot), to name three.

Many have called for the closing of the borders, to stem the flow of illegal aliens, though I have not. A far better solution would be to disassemble the welfare state, to detax and deregulate business and return to the capitalist origins that made the States great. The services that the illegal aliens get gratis and that the rest of us pay confiscatory taxes for could be provided for far lower cost, far more efficiently and with no strings attached by the free market--in which everyone buys and pays for what he desires--and gets it!

Arizona is a sovereign State. Under the Tenth Amendment, an admonition which the rogue federal government chooses to ignore almost completely, Arizona can control its own affairs independently of the federal government. True, the Constitution reserves to the feds the task of controlling the borders, but the federal government is criminally derelict in this duty.

Further, the federal government unConstitutionally forbids Arizona to withhold welfare state services from illegal foreigners. Arizona is challenging the federal government to "do you job, or we'll do it."

I can't blame them, and I think it'd be good if other States follow Arizona's example.

Or, better still, do away with the welfare state, embrace laissez faire capitalism, and let us pursue our careers in freedom.

Remember, VOTE FOR NO INCUMBENT!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

A Well Lived, Happy and Eventful Life

Yesterday, I finally gathered together a small sum of cash I'd been wanting to use for the purpose of buying some common silver coins, for use in the event of disaster to make purchases on the black market. I'm convinced that this will become an issue, maybe soon. I've been making these small purchases, as I can, for many years. If such a disaster never happens, I'll have a coin collection to sell to augment my retirement, should I ever decide to do so.

The gentleman 'bout whom I write will not. He'll die on the job, having lived a happy, healthy life.

I walked into his store in the early afternoon. It's a little hole-in-the-wall just off a major boulevard, almost unnoticeable among the sidewalk cafes and trendy shops. COINS & STAMPS, it says on the window. I stepped inside; there was no one there--just glass cases full of silver dollars, half dollars etc, and a wall covered with envelopes full of stamps.

An elderly man stepped out from the back room with a smile and a "Can I help you?" I told him I was looking for circulated, common date silver--probably half dollars. He directed me toward a case filled with various styles of halves--Franklin, Liberty Walking and Barber. I presume he had some Liberty Seated halves in the safe, but they're out of my price range and too valuable to use as cash.

After a few minutes looking at various coins and package deals, we settled on a package and a price.

I offered him my debit card, but he says he doesn't accept cards or checks; just cash. Well, fortunately I had enough cash to make the transaction. "I like to keep things simple," he said. I told him, "That's fine, I'll make sure I have cash with me in the future, as well."

By way of explaining his preference for cash, he started talking about his youth in Boston. In high school, he got a job in a coin and stamp store and began saving a little money. This was in the middle years of the Great Depression. He started putting a little money away just in case.

His parents were secure in their careers and he continued living at home even after he graduated high school . They wanted him to go to college, but he kept putting it off.

He rented a little storefront downtown for $20 a month and set up a coin and stamp store, not long after graduation.

He told me he would close the shop and go down the street to a deli for lunch each day, then go across the street to a Cadillac dealer and look at a particular black LaSalle coupe he liked. It was priced at $997. A 60 Series Cadillac's prices started at $1200. The salesman started referring to him as the "Lookie Lou." He studied that car every day for a long time. One day the salesman addressed him as "Lookie Lou" and asked him why he kept looking at the car.

"I'm going to buy it." "When?" "Now." "How are you going to pay for it?" the salesman chuckled.

"I'll write a check. You can call the ****** Bank and talk to Mr. ******."

Fact was, the young man-had, by that time, well over a thousand dollars saved up. He bought the car.

He was drafted into the Army in the early part of WWII. Because of his high scores in the tests, and his performance during basic training, he was kept on as a drill instructor. He attained the rating of Staff Sergeant. He was sent over to Europe in time to participate in the D-Day attack, where 17 of the 40 men in his platoon were killed or wounded.

After the war, he reopened his coin and stamp shop, married a lady who had been an Army nurse over there. They moved to Los Angeles in the early 1950's, where he opened another coin & stamp shop in downtown LA, then to where he is now. He worked alone in his shop every day except Sunday and Monday, though now he only opens for afternoons.

He'll be 90 this spring, and says he'll keep the shop open as long as he's able. He loves his work, and says it's what helps keep him healthy.

One of the neat things about my two-plus hour visit with him: No paperwork. I handed him the cash, he handed me the coins, and we shook hands. The way it's supposed to be.

They've killed Freedom! Those bastards!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

A Trip Back In Time

I've always liked Knott's Berry Farm. I think the first time I went there was in 1969. I was fully involved in reading Western paperbacks at the time, Louis L'Amour in particular. I also like the few Donald Hamilton Westerns and read some of Zane Gray's. Going to Knott's was a way to immerse myself in the trappings of the Old West that didn't involve a long trip.

I won't go into the history of Knott's now, since it's very well covered in the news article linked below. What I used to do was simply wander about in the ghost town part of the Farm and look at the Old West exhibits in the museums and in the buildings of the ghost town.

This past Sunday's OC Register commemorated the 75th Anniversary of Cordelia Knott's Chicken Dinner Restaurant in a story to be found here. I've eaten there several times. The chicken is kind of similar to that of Col. Sanders, but much tastier and more consistent. It's a full, old-fashioned country-style dinner with fried chicken, mashed spuds, gravy, a veggie, biscuits and a dish of rhubarb sauce, followed by a dessert. I could eat at Mrs. Knott's restaurant a lot more than I actually did. I honestly don't know where one can get better fried chicken.

Perhaps the best part of Knott's is through the tunnel under Beach Blvd, where Knott built a faithful replica of Philadelphia's Independence Hall, complete with the Liberty Bell. Within, they run a tape loop of quotes from some of the founders, as might've occurred within the building during the adoption of the Declaration of Independence. It gives one pause for reflection.

Unfortunately, I was never fortunate enough to meet Walter or Cordelia Knott, but I did see Andy Devine there a couple of times. He used to tell tales of the wagon trains in a recreation of a circled wagon camp in the ghost town.

Living in The Valley now, it's a bit farther to drive to the Farm now, but I'll still go there from time to time. The Knotts were freedom-loving individuals who lived their lives during a freer time. They saw the way the country was going even then, and did what they could to fight it. Near the Independence Hall reproduction, there was a book store, selling freedom-oriented books and souvenirs. I'm not sure if it's still there.

Here and there, the spirit of liberty still lives!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California