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

A Legend of a Different Sort

My dad, who passed away a few years ago, and whom I think about often, was a lifelong railroad man. I've already chronicled a couple of my railroad adventures and will undoubtedly write about more of them in the future. Railroads played a big part in my youth.

When I was, I suppose twelve or thirteen years old, I discovered magazines. I was selling the Grand Forks Herald in the streets of downtown Grand Forks and East Grand Forks and making decent money for a twelve-year old. Fifty or so cents a day could keep an adult alive in those days, if he didn't mind living in a camp down by the river.

At times, after I'd sold my papers, I'd walk down to the train station, to a very well-stocked newsstand across the street. I liked to peruse Hot Rod and Rod & Custom magazines, take a look at Argosy and some of the other men's adventure magazines. Mechanix Illustrated was one of my favorites. I still remember Tom McCahill's road tests of the various new cars, in which there was his signature photo of himself, a big man, or his (large) dog Boji, lying in the open trunk of the car he was reviewing to indicate the adequacy of the storage space. Of course, the technology fan that I am today has its roots in these magazines, as well as Popular Science and others.

There were the science fiction monthlies, the horror magazines (whose names fade into obscurity), the crime magazines and, of course, the girlie mags.

Kids my age weren't supposed to wander to the far end of the magazine racks. The little "over 21" sign was supposed to keep kids away from the fledgling Playboy and the many others at the end of the racks.

I didn't let it stop me. The clerks were usually busy helping customers, working on stock or just reading a magazine. Some probably just didn't care. Occasionally, I'd step a couple of feet beyond the limits and leaf through this girlie magazine or that. The curiosity of a twelve-year-old boy is a very real.

Scantily-dressed women will always attract the looks of young boys and men. From the girls with torn dresses, shrinking in horror from the long, curved fangs of a bug-eyed monster on the cover of a sci-fi pulp to the women in red or black lingerie posed in the girlie magazines, to the now almost forgotten nudist camp magazines, only one name survives to this day.

Bettie Page.

Her photos have appeared in several issues of Playboy magazine, including a feature as Playmate of the Month in the January, 1955 issue, and had hundreds of photos published in various men's magazines in those few years. Photos in and out of then very risque lingerie and in poses suggesting both kinky sex and pure feminine beauty.

Bettie Page, at this writing, is still alive, but just. She was being treated for pneumonia, was about to be released when she suffered a sudden heart attack that's left her in critical condition in an LA hospital. This according to a DenverPost.com story, here.

Bettie is 85 now, and has lived in relative obscurity for decades, until granting some interviews in recent years.

I, of course, wish Bettie a full recovery.

But, I've outgrown all that stuff now. Like hell, I have!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Addendum: Ms Page passed away yesterday, December 11. Rest easy, Bettie. You'll be remembered for a long, long time.

Music: Better Listened To Than Seen

For the third year running, I once again made the honest attempt to watch the AMA Award Show last night. I just couldn't. I think I lasted up to whoever followed Pink. I'd never paid attention to her before, except I read somewhere that she made a big public deal about having her nipples pierced. Why anyone would care is well beyond my ken. Last night, though, I noticed, without really looking up from my computer, that it seemed as though she actually can sing. Unlike the few others I heard before I finally gave up.

I'm no pop music expert, and I don't know all the currently popular artists or their songs. I'm often finding new artists that I like, and often trying to remember those whom I'd rather never hear again. I like to listen to new music radio stations to discover the newer talent.

But, man, do they (most of them) look hideous on tv. They (most of them) dress in the most atrocious, mismatched and unkempt clothing imaginable. Their hair is atrocious--too long, too short, dirty looking, over styled, under styled, bizarrely colored or just....shaved off (partly or totally). Makeup? That's another whole story. Anything goes, from full clownface to the natural smallpox look.

I like the Black Eyed Peas, for example, and think Fergie's kinda hot, but Will I Am? Has all the fashion sense of a child running amok in a film studio wardrobe warehouse.

Women generally look better than men (showing my personal preference), and country artists usually look better than rockers (who look better than hiphop and rappers).

Very few of them know how to conduct themselves in a formal setting--they seem to be a little like a cattle stampede through a town of the old west. They speak very poorly and seem to be unable to put ten words together to make a rational thought.

Yet, on a cd, or on the radio, most of them sound delightful. I can't handle the hate and stupidity of rap and I have a big problem with the (mostly) pop singers who can't seem to hold a note for a tenth of a second, but who seem to wander all over the scale with nearly every indistinguishable word.

I'm not going to get into the vapid, silly, stupid and terminally terminally unintelligible lyrics in a majority of today's (and yesterday's) popular music because of the wide range that runs from wonderful to super cool to who knows what (s)he's saying? to suicidally depressing.

But, I love much of it. It's rock 'n' roll.

I just think back to Fats Domino at the piano in a suit with a tie, singing about Blueberry Hill. Buddy Holly in a sport coat, with or without a tie, with white socks, raving on. Elvis Presley in a light jacket over an open-collar shirt with tan slacks, singing about his Blue Suede Shoes. The early Beatles with their "Nehru" jackets and tight slacks, wanting to Hold Your Hand. They all had neat hair (short or long) and looked good on the Ed Sullivan Show.

Guess I'll have to remove music award shows from my tv watching repertoire and to find other ways to keep up with the newest music trends. I don't think I want to actually see those people any more.

When your mommy tells you how to dress, LISTEN!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Taking The Weekend Off

Debbie and I will be driving off to the scenic seaside town of Ventura, Stalag California for the weekend to attend and participate in the Seaside Highland Games.

In spite of all the rollicking fun in the news this month, there won't be any more reportage here until next week. We have to have one more wild fling before have to settle down and start looking for food under rocks and behind the bark of trees.

Debbie and I will be part of the Scottish Country Dance demo group and we'll be watching all the Scottish heavy games and the clan duel reenactments. There'll also be pipe bands and a place for kids to get their faces painted.

Then, we'll be back to see if el Pueblo de Los Angeles still has electricity and law and order. Oh, wait! The law and order thing.....that time is past.

Keep your powder dry.

They've killed Freedom! Those bastards!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

All the Sports Unfit to Report

There's a sports program on ESPN called Mike & Mike. I guess it's on radio, too. I rarely watch it because....well....who would watch a sports talk show on tv? I occasionally go to a particular pizza-sandwich shop for lunch near where I work. Pretty good Phillie steak sandwiches.
While I waited for my sandwich, Mike & Mike were on the house tv.

It was unbelievable!

We're in the middle of the NHL hockey playoffs, well into the NBA baxabaw playoffs (if anybody's noticed) and well into the big league beisbol season. Mike & Mike aren't talking about any of this. They're talking about foopbaw. And they're not really talking about foopbaw, they're talking about.....get this.....Brett Farve's locker. I'm not sure who Brett Farve is, but I know who Brett Favre is.

They weren't talking about Brett Favre, but somebody named Brett Farve. Well, they were talking about Brett Favre, but sometime in Favre's ancestry, somebody started mispronouncing the name and, being from Mississippi, no one had the intelligence to correct him.

Back to the point. Mike & Mike weren't talking about Brett Favre, but about Brett Favre's locker up there in the dungeons under Lambeau Field's grandstand.

Those two sports dorks spent at least fifteen minutes arguing over whether or not Brett Favre's locker should be retired as a shrine!!

For my part, as very little as I care about it, I think it's a stupid idea, since there have been numerous foopbaw players of Favre's stature in the Packers over the length of the team's history. They'd have to move the players to a nearby barn to dress--all of the lockers in the dressing room would be shrines.

But, even that's not important. What I don;t understand is how a pretty good sports tv network can give dopes like these a tv show when there are so many hockey, lacrosse, rugby and pistol target matches going untelevised.

Well, this entry is a mite outside of my usual area of discussion, so I'll leave it there.

Now, we return you to your regularly scheduled rants.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Roswell, Texas

At the request of my friend, L Niel Smith, I'm extending an invitation to read his graphic novel, Roswell, Texas. It's a light-hearted romp through a Texas of a different time.....and a different probability. The story was written by Niel and Rex F May. The graphic novel was inked by Scott Bieser and painted by Jen Zach.

I thoroughly enjoyed it, and will again, starting now.

The trade paperback will be published in June, 2008.

Art is a peek at an aspect of the world as the artist thinks it might be and ought to be.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Addendum: Please allow me to apologize for failing to mention one of the more important actors in the drama of getting Roswell, Texas before us all--in the person of Frank Bieser at Bighead Press. Bighead Press has serialized several very entertaining graphic novels and is continuing to do so. Thanks, Frank.

Johann Strauß, For the Third Time!

For the third consecutive December, Debbie and I enjoyed the Andre Rieu Christmas concert at the Honda Ponda in Anaheim. Both of us dearly love Strauss waltzes, and Rieu and his orchestra play them so well, with a sense of light-hearted fun.

Last year's concert was very much a Christmas concert, heavily loaded with season's typical music selections, and done well. While I enjoyed the program and the Reiu arrangements, I missed a number of the Strauss works for which Rieu is famous.

This year, he went the other way. While the orchestra played its traditional version of "Silent Night," the audience sang along. We clapped enthusiastically during "Jingle Bells," and all were smiling during "Winter Wonderland" and the other Christmas songs.

There was more of a Strauss presence this year--a few dozen couples danced in the aisles to "The Blue Danube," and the applause was enthusiastic after a very energetic performance of "Radetsky's March," "The Emperor's Waltz and a couple of others.

While I'm not much of a fan of opera, and know very little about it, Rieu is beginning to turn me around. There are three tenors in his retinue, and three sopranos. Among them, they sang a few operatic excerpts and and other songs that lend themselves to powerful vocals. The most memorable of these was the aria called "O Mio Babbino Caro," from Gianni Schicchi by Giacomo Puccini, and sung by the lovely Carmen Monarcha. Many a tear was shed during Ms Monarcha's performance, even in this setting.

Here is the complete concert:

1. Seventy-six Trombones (M Wilson)
2. Tritsch Tratsch Polka (J. Strauss)
3. Rosen aus dem Süden (J. Strauss)
4. Chianti
5. Nessun Dorma (G. Puccini)
6. Eljen a Magyar (J. Strauss)
7. Song of the Wolga (F. Lehar)
8. Besame Mucho (C Velasquez), Laura Engel, Soloist
9. Silent Night (J. Mohr)
10. The Holy City (S. Adams)
11. White Christmas (I. Berlin)
12. Jingle Bells (J. I Pierpoint)

~~~Intermission~~~

1. Gold & Silver (F. Lehar)
2. Granada (A. Lara)
3. The Girls from the Chantant (E. Kalman)
4. Emperor's Waltz (J. Strauss)
5. O Mio Babbino Caro (G. Puccini), Carmen Monarcha, Soloist
6. The Blue Danube (J. Strauss)
7. Concerto Pour une Voix (C. Saint-Preux), Mirusia Louwerse, Soloist
8. Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again (I. Webber), Mirusia Louwerse, Soloist
9. Bolero (M Ravel)
10. Radetzky March (J. Strauss)

~~~Encores~~~

Rieu's concerts are literally the only ones we've attended in the past three years, except for the ones they have at the Scottish and Celtic fairs in which Debbie's Scottish Fiddlers of LA have performed.

Andre Rieu's concerts are not only a lot of fun, but they're a light-hearted introduction to classical music for those who've thought it dull or too stodgy.

Nineteenth Century rock 'n' roll.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Leftist Celebrity Hypocrisy

According to a story in TMZ, a car driven by Julia Roberts' hubby Danny Moder was found and photographed parked in front of Malibu's How's market yesterday, in a Handicapped parking space!

Roberts, a member in good standing if Hollywood's Airhead Left, is often seen and heard railing against all things conservative, and in favor of all things socialist and irrational (but, I repeat myself!), anywhere she can find the front end of a camera.

Well, she found a host of paparazzi cameras in front of How's, showing her true stripes: those of a Hollywood elitist hypocrite.

Do as I say, not as I do.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

It's A Dog's Life!

If you've been listening to news or talk radio these past couple of days, or watched any tv news shows, you've probably heard about the tears shed by Ellen Degenerate about this puppy, Iggy, she "adopted" from a private rescue shelter in Southern California.

The whole story was covered in the LA Times, here.

She cried and whimpered and admitted repeatedly that 'twas all her own fault, but why did they have to take Iggy away from her hairdresser's kids?

According to the story, Ellen adopted Iggy, got him shots, neutered and a chip, and had him trained. After a couple of weeks, she found that Iggy couldn't get along with her cats. She gave Iggy to her hairdresser and his family.

Problem was, the contract she signed required her to return the dog to the shelter, if for some reason she couldn't keep it. The shelter people picked Iggy up from the hairdresser's home and returned him to the shelter.

So, Ellen wants to know why they can't bend the rules: the hairdresser's children love Iggy. The shelter's policy is that they don't adopt small dogs to families with children under 14--kind of a bureaucratic, one-size-fits-all policy, as I see it, but 'twas in the contract and Ellen knew it.

The women who run the shelter have withstood every kind of abuse by phone, email and in person since Ellen made her televised plea. Tons of it. Death threats and the whole bag.

Let's step back a bit. Ellen Degenerate is a comedienne (a bad one, in my estimation), and an actress. She can switch on the crocodile tears. I think she staged this entire controversy deliberately out of anger over the shelter people having taken Iggy back. I think she knew what that outburst would do and wanted to punish the ladies at the shelter for not having acceded to her wish. How dare they!?

Hell hath no fury than a Hollywood leftist denied.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

When "No Law" Means Some Laws

I was listening to Michael Medved this afternoon, intermittently, whenever I was in my car. At one point, I turned the radio on and heard him talking about islamic fascists. I think he was talking about some islamist recommending martyrdom, or something like that. Not terribly important to my point.

What was important was what he said immediately afterward. "There can be no debate over the fact that free speech is not absolute." Or something very like this.

Let's parse this just a little. "There can be no debate...." is a very interesting phrase. It's designed to cut off argument before it can be born. It's the very same phrase the algorians use to cut off discussions about "global warming" and discredit the "deniers." It's very insidious, the way this works. I don't buy it for an instant.

"....Over the fact that free speech is not absolute." I've heard variations of this phrase dozens of times in the past five years or so. It's usually conservatives that say it. Leftists, on the other hand, say they're for free speech, to counter the position of the conservatives, but they're lying.

So, let's see what the Bill of Rights says: Amendment the First: "Congress shall make no law....abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble...."

The Founders wrote that Amendment to counter the British tradition of prosecuting political dissent.The First Amendment serves to protect the purveyor of controversial expression; to protect the holder of unpopular opinion.

And Michael Medved, a radio talk show host, one of a very few conservative movie reviewers, and a writer, fully ignoring the letter of the Bill of Rights, has the freedom to say that the First Amendment doesn't mean what it says. I've also heard Sean Hannity express the same sentiment. He ought to be ashamed. If he and others continue to ignore the meaning of the Constitution, he may find himself limited as to what he can say, as might we all.

They do this while, out the other side of their mouths they disparage the leftists for suggesting that they ought to provide balance on their shows.

I'd suggest that we ought to hold to the letter and meaning of the Amendment absolutely, lest we let this precious freedom be gradually nibbled away.

They've killed Freedom! Those bastards!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Middleweight Outfielder

In my pre-teens, I used to be a huge baseball fan. I went to my hometown Grand Forks Chiefs minor league games almost as often as they played at home. I was a member of the Knot Hole Gang (a special bleacher section for kids, at greatly reduced admission). I sold refreshments in the grandstand, more to get free admission than to make money (though I did make a little money).

I kept track of the stats of many major league teams and players. I was a Yankees fan, and closely followed the careers of Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford, Don Larson and others.
My interest moderated as my thoughts turned to cars and girls (not always in that order) and as I passed through the military and the establishment of my career--though I went to the occasional game and often watched a game on tv.

After I moved to the Stalag, and the unfortunately scandalous move of the Brooklyn Dodgers to Los Angeles, my apathy began turning to distaste--not so much for the game, but for the business of baseball. Read my earlier entry here, and follow the links therein if you want to learn more. It also gives other reasons for my fading interest in major league baseball.

Now, it seems that baseball is in the midst of another turn for the worse. It happens when a batter is hit by a pitch, and believes it's deliberate. He often runs out to the mound to beat up the pitcher for his offense. Of course, the catcher chases him in an attempt to stop him. This causes both entire teams to leave the dugout to run out to the mound to help their teammates.

I'm much more of a hockey fan. When this happens on the ice, it's accepted as merely part of the game. The National Hockey League has worked on stopping fighting in hockey, with some success--there are no more bench-clearing brawls in hockey. As an ex-player, I kind of miss that. Hockey players learn to fight on the ice almost from the time they first put on skates, and two-man fights still happen pretty often during the game.

Baseball players, on the other hand, don't seem to fight well. They usually look kind of clumsy and stupid gathered at the pitcher's mound, throwing punches that never land and grabbing at each other's uniforms. Too bad they don't just pair up and get to it.

Seriously, though, high-priced players can get hurt in these situations. Something ought to be done to stop brawling in baseball, even if it's just to put an end to these embarrassing shows of ineptness.

Here's my recommendation. It's been established that a major league pitcher can pitch a ball wherever he wants it--their control is incredible. Thus, I have to assume that when a pitcher hits a batter, it's because he wants to hit the batter. Thus, if a pitcher hits a batter chest-high or above, the umpire should award the batter with, not a walk to first base, as is now the practice, but with a home walk. That is, a walk around the bases to score, and to score all those already on base. Of course, if the batter placed part of his body into the strike zone and got hit, say, in the elbow, this would not be a walk at all, but a called strike.

That could give the offended team as much as a four-run boost and often might turn the game.

It'd be just about a certainty that this change would effectively put an end to bean balls.

Or, as an alternative, they could send baseball players to hockey camp and teach them how to fight bare-knuckle.

Love the sport, hate the business.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

The Trads Versus The Rads, 2007

The Trads and the Rads were two factions within the Young Americans for Freedom in the 1960's. The Trads were the traditional conservatives (such as they were at that time), and the Rads were libertarians, seeking a smaller, much less intrusive government. While the Rads were fairly numerous and vocal (and much smarter) they were still vastly outnumbered by the Trads. In the end, the Trads were able to purge the Rads, and YAF became a more uniformly conservative organization. I was never a member of YAF, and thus my recollections come from the outside. Perhaps a member of YAF during that time can fill me in.

Sean Hannity, well-known conservative radio and tv commentator, would have definitely been a Trad.

Now, it looks like Hannity (he's not the only one) has taken yet another page from the leftist news media book of selective reporting: if you don't like the news; if you don't think the public should hear it, spike it!

The leftist media tend to fail to report much of the news that say, suggests that individuals are better at defending themselves (if given the opportunity) than the police are at protecting them. Or that the quasi-military police gang that broke into a suburban house and terrorized the family inside, had a bogus warrant and didn't announce themselves before breaking the door down.

They also fail to report many other suggestions and proofs that leftist-promoted hoaxes, such as the wholesale extinctions of plants and animals (caused by man), global warming (caused by man) and the destruction of the environment (caused by capitalism) are lies perpetrated to increase the power of government over the individual.

I'd also like to see daily reports of the many times elected officials and bureaucrats violate the Constitution they've sworn to uphold.

Mr Hannity is learning from these people. Today, on his radio show, He spoke of the three highest Republican Presidential vote-getters at the Iowa Cauci, then he mentioned three candidates that didn't compete in Iowa. At no point did he mention Congressman Ron Paul.

Now, I'm pretty sure Dr Paul is still a candidate, and I'm pretty sure he was either in Iowa, or he was not. In other words, he has to fit into one of those two categories. Yet, Mr Hannity failed to mention his name in his report.

I know that Hannity is opposed to the candidacy of Dr Paul. I'm pretty sure I know the reason why; based on what I know about Hannity. Dr Paul is a Rad. Hannity's not, for example, very familiar with the US Constitution, whereas Dr Paul follows the Constitution verbatim, as it was written. Hannity tends to pick and choose according to what the more influential members of the Republican Party seem to like. For example, he's totally down with the so-called Homeland Security Act and the Patriot Act.

Hannity ignores the fact that these laws violate the Bill of Rights in a host of ways. I couldn't even begin to list the many ways these laws violate both the Constitution and natural law. Suffice it to say that legal due process is pretty much rendered a shambles by these so-called laws and that the rights that are affirmed and guaranteed by the document are now to be allowed only at the government's convenience.

Of this, Hannity enthusiastically approves. He also approves of the much older War on Drugs, by means of which the Constitution is rendered sterile and irrelevant, and dlegal due process is largely ignored.

Hannity claims to be opposed to military conscription, but he will flip-flop on this if the Republican Party members in office begin calling it necessary. He loves to tell of the many times he's disagreed with President Bush, but in every case he fails to put any barb in his criticism.

In addition, it might be noted that his interview style varies severely depending 'pon whether he's in agreement with the interviewee, or not. When he talks to Rudy Giuliani, it's always politeness, softball questions and they end up singing Kumbaya together. On the other hand, when he interviews Robert F Kennedy, Jr, the extreme leftist environmental wack-job, it quickly becomes a shout-fest, with Hannity accusing Kennedy of all manner of vile leftist debauchery (much of which is true, but irrelevant to the topic under discussion). He calls Kennedy a liberal, as if that seals the discussion (which, of course, Kennedy is most emphatically not. Thomas Jefferson was a liberal. I've read Thomas Jefferson, and Mr Kennedy, you're no Thomas Jefferson--to paraphrase Lloyd Bentson.)

In the end, you find out very little about what Mr Hannity's interviewees actually think about the relevant issues. Not good.

With friends like these, who needs enemas?

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Just Fiddlin' Around

My wife Debbie's been relearning the violin for the past year or so. She was (and still is) enamored of violinist Andre Rieu, as well as the waltzes of Johann Strauss. Thus, she was using such works as The Blue Danube and The Emperor's Waltz for practice.

Recently, she's made friends with a Scottish fiddler. Seems this friend has invited her to a session of the Scottish Fiddlers of Los Angeles. She's now a member, and practicing Scottish fiddling with this group. It's actually kind of cool stuff.

There's a pretty big difference in style between classical violin playing and fiddling. Debbie's trying to make the transition, and having some success in the early stages. She's been asked to join the group in a concert at the Seaside Scottish Highland Games in Ventura this fall. Debbie's game, but unsure whether she'll be good enough by October. "'S ok," says she. "You can play chords this first time."

It promises to be a lot of fun. Perhaps I'll try my hand at tossin' the caber.

....The right to keep and bear claymores shall not be infringed.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Imus In The Dustbin

Don Imus used to be on radio in El Pueblo de Los Angeles, but was replaced three or four years ago, I guess because of ratings. I listened to him pretty often, because he had quite a few political and media personalities on his show that could be heard no where else--or maybe not very often. He has a (usually) good sense of humor and had a lot of really funny comedy bits on the show.

Over a week ago now, Imus told a joke that was not well-received by the left, by the so-called black leadership and by the Rutgers University women's baxabaw team. The Rutgers women, of course, have every reason to be angry and hurt--or, they might just consider the source: a fairly articulate but not overly intelligent talk show host of whom they've never previously heard. Then, they could chuckle derisively and move on.

One thing that disturbed me is the quote I heard from one of the athletes, whose name wasn't given (apparently athletes are considered interchangeable sub-beings in leftist msm circles): "His statement diminishes our achievement," or words to that effect. Either this young woman is mining for tv face time and a possible lawsuit and book deal, or she's taking Don Imus and his clumsy attempt at a joke way too seriously. Everybody gets insulted from time to time. These young ladies, like all athletes, have suffered far worse countless times in the arenae of their opponents.

There's no doubt that Imus' firing is justified. He's used racial and ethnic insults for a long time, against many ethnicities. The object of most of his insults were politicians and other individuals in the public eye, and were delivered along with some occasionally justified criticism of their behavior. This time, however, he insulted a group of young college athletes who are not in the public eye, except for their identity as a sports team. A winning sports team, who were runners-up in the national women's college basketball championship. Certainly this group doesn't deserve, individually, or as a group, to be called "nappy-headed hos." Imus' sponsors ran away from him, and his radio and tv networks saw the writing on the wall. All this as the result of the accusatory blatherings of (mostly) a couple of hypocritical charlatans, pseudo-preachers Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson, whose own personal histories are more than a little checkered in the area of racial and ethnic bigotry.

I stop short of regarding this appellation racist, though, for a couple of reasons. First, not all of the Rutgers female baxabaw players are black. I distinctly spotted two white faces in their team photo. Second, I'm continually hearing these and other epithets, some worse, used by blacks--not only in face-to-face interaction, but in movie and tv dialog and most often, in music lyrics. Words and phrases used that routinely in public discourse an hardly be the stuff of racial insult. In an old pop tune, Stevie Wonder referred to his younger self as a "nappy-headed boy."

What I now worry about is that every actor, journalist, talk show host or other celebrity being discredited or otherwise condemned for a careless word or phrase. Or maybe, if this nascent crusade goes far enough (and it might) even result in condemnation of the average person who's heard to tell an off-color or ethnic joke in the wrong company. If you've ever attended a sexual harassment lecture, you realize what might happen and how easily it can happen.

As that sweet lush, Joan Rivers , often says, "Oh, grow up!"

Remember the First Amendment, and keep it wholly.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Enjoying Las Vegas qua Las Vegas

While I did those things for which I came to Vegas, Debbie had been rammin' around the various hotels and casinos much of Saturday. The Liberty Lives! Conference was over after a nice buffet lunch early Sunday afternoon, following which I became freed up to check out some of these things, as well.

Debbie had been talking about seeing a show while we were there, but many of them were closed Sunday and others were outrageously expensive. Since we'd talked about seeing one of the tribute shows, she bought a couple of tix for a show called "The Rat Pack is back!"

As we walked from our hotel to the Greek Isles Hotel and Casino, which contains the theater at which the show is presented, we began to be concerned, as we noted that the building had a rather "weathered" appearance. Our concern was not partucularly diminished as we entered the building and observed a relatively small and spartan casino.

Concern mounted as we went to the will-call window to get out tickets. The male member of the couple in front of us was having a discussion with the clerk.

"Sandy said the tickets would be here for me."

I couldn't hear the "I'm sorry sir, I don't find anything in your name."

The man produced a cell phone. "Just a second. I'll call Sandy." And, turning to me, "I'm sorry this is taking so long."

He says something I can't hear to his phone, then hands it through the slot in the window. "Here's Sandy."

After a few seconds, the clerk hands the phone back to the gentleman, then after several seconds, pushed his tickets out to the gentleman.

He took his tickets, thanked the clerk. He and his lady turned to Debbie and me, apologizing once again.

Well, Debbie and I got our tickets, then went to the hotel's restaurant for a pretty ordinary dinner while waiting for showtime.

When we were seated, 'twas at a table well back from the stage. We were going to have trouble seeing over those in front of us. After pondering that fact for a few minutes, we were approached by an usher, who offered us better seats down near the stage. Whoopee!

The show turned out to be excellent! "Dean Martin" sang a couple of his standards, and did so extremely well. Facially, one could tell it wasn't really Dean Martin, but that's about the only way. He had the voice, the moves and the manerisms, not to mention the Dean Martin rap. As the show continued, the same proved to be true of "Sammy Davis, Jr," "Joey Bishop" and "Frank Sinatra." They were really good!

About two-thirds of the way though the show, "Marilyn Monroe" joins the group on stage. She banters with the boys in perfect Marilyn Monroe style, then is given the stage. She sings, going out into the aisles, soon asking who's having a birthday. Interacting with those who respond, she picks out an elderly gentleman and proceeds to sing Happy Birthday, in the style the original performer famously sang to President Kennedy, years ago. Planting a couple of lipsticky kisses 'pon the gentleman's face, she returned to the stage for the rand finale act, performed by all five performers, during which a jet of air reproduced the famous skirt-lifting scene from The Seven-Year Itch."

Great show!

As we stood to exit the room, who's sitting in the booth directly behind us? The couple who were in front of us at the will-call window. We chatted, briefly. Turns out he's Dick Hardwick, a comedian currently working at the Sahara. "Sandy," was Sandy Hackett, son of the late, great Buddy Hackett. Sandy is one of the producers of the show, and plays Joey Bishop.

We left the room still chatting with Dick and his wife, and ended up meeting the members of the cast and talking with them for a little while. Dick didn't say anyting, but I'm pretty sure it was he who got Debbie and me the better seats down near his table. Cool!

And I got to hug "Marilyn Monroe!"

We went casino hopping the next day, and did a little more gambling, collected a few souvenirs and went up to the top of Paris Las Vegas' Eiffel Tower. It might only be half the size of the original in Paris, but 'twas still very high at the observation deck up top. Debbie was white knuckling the handrail.

Then, there was the drive home. We'd had a lot of fun, and I include the drive home in my favorite car, at night, across the desert under the stars. There's a Bob's Big Boy in Baker. I haven't eaten at a Bob's Big Boy in easily fifteen years.

It would've been worth it just to drive there and then drive back.

They've killed Freedom! Those bastards!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

It's Just a story!

I haven't seen "The Da Vinci Code," the movie, yet. I do plan to see it, but I'm not sure when. I had a bit of difficulty with it from the start: I'm not sure Ron Howard was the right director. He often has a difficult time making believable bad guys. Ditto Tom Hanks as the protagonist. He's always seemed too timid and too much the good guy. We'll see.

I read the book months ago. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I thought it was a better than decent action adventure that has a clever premise and is internally coherent. I remember thinking the denoument was a mite fuzzy, but I really ought to read it again. I always get a better handle on a book, reading it a second time, after the "wow" factor is past.

I wrote this about "The Da Vinci Code," a few weeks ago. It concerns the Roman Catholic reaction to the book. Watching some of Catholic pundits on the cable news shows makes one think there'll be picketing and boycotts. Catholic spokespeople seem to be trying to project the notion that they're under some sort of attack, and that The Da Vinci Code is part of it. Well, if that's true, perhaps it's time somebody kicked their asses a little bit for the Dark Ages and the Inquisition.

For my part, I don't believe either The Da Vinci Code or Catholic Doctrine. If, however, I was asked to choose which story is the more believeable, I'd have to pick the former.

They've killed Freedom! Those bastards!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Roswell, Texas?

My all-time favorite science fiction author is L Neil Smith. I actually grew up on Robert A Heinlein, and continue to re-read his stories occasionally, and I enjoy many other S-F authors as well, but I find myself watching and waiting for El Neil's next.

El Neil builds the worlds in which I would most like to live. From his first novel, The Probability Broach, which is currently in print both as a print novel and as a graphic novel (Art by Scott Bieser), is the first in an alternative history series that begins during a quirk of history during America's Revolutionary War. I could go on about the several subsequent novels Smith has written, including a couple of S-F/pirate swashbucklers, but nobody wants that!

What's new now is a graphic short story which is being serialized at Bighead Press. Roswell, Texas is another alternative history story, a "sci-fi western romantic comedy," based on a quirk of history during the Siege of the Alamo. Reading the first several pages reveals it to be a very interesting story, at least for me! I'm waiting impatiently for the next installment.

Remember, VOTE FOR NO INCUMBENT!

Warm Regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Starting Their Own Jihad

Fearing the fact of being outdone in the world's headlines by islamic funny-mentalists over the publication of 'toon images of Mohammed in the newspapers and web pages of the more civilized portion of the world, the vatican announces a boycott on the movie "The Da Vinci Code."

One has to wonder whether the continuing demonstrations over immigration will, like a tidal wave, overwhelm the vatican's pronouncement and leave theater-goers at peace to enjoy the film in suburban mega-plexes. I've noticed that our local cardinal, Msnr Mahoney, after singing the praises of the immigration reform demonstrations for lo! these many weeks, has suddenly begun to admonish government school inmates to stay in their classes and resist the temptation to escape and join the festivities. Might this have something to do with the upcoming actions regarding the premier of "The Da Vinci Code?"

Will there be bands of marauding catholic youths keying cars in Hollywood with their rosary crosses? Will scientologists be burned at the stake in Malibu? We non-catholics must be on our guard, for one never knows what evil lurks in the hearts of funny-mentalists!

Meanwhile, one has to also wonder how long it'll take for historical scholars to prove that the new testament was made up from whole cloth by monks in the 4th century, and how the vatican will react to that news!

They've killed Freedom! Those bastards!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

You Can Stop Rock and Roll!

I don't know how many people with whom I've chatted on the subject of music, but it's in the manys. Almost every one of them has the following characteristic: He/she is absolutely certain that the music that was being played while he/she was in high school and college--roughly about age thirteen to, oh, maybe twenty-five--was the best music ever.

I don't think I know (or have known) more than four or five individuals that like popular music that don't fit the above description.

I grew up during the very beginnings of rock & roll. My early favorites were (and still are, sort of....) Elvis Presley, Eddie Cochran, Chuck Berry, Fats Domino, the Beach Boys, and many others in that period.

As time passed and rock & roll grew and fleshed out, rather than remaining stuck in the "American Graffiti" era, I started listening to the music of the "Hippie" era. Many of them were hard to listen to, but I liked (and still like) Buffalo Springfield, the Beatles, Cream, and a few others.

I listened to Heavy metal, New Wave and Punk (a little). I was prompted by a friend to revisit classical music, then I spent some time looking for the roots of rock, which caused me to listen to blues, jazz, big bands and even back to Cole Porter and Scott Joplin.

I'm not stuck in the fifties.

I don't like most of the music they're playing today. Maybe I ought to say I like the music of the twentieth century.

There are a lot of "classic rock" stations on the radio. They play the same tunes they played ten years ago. Almost without exception.

There are a couple of stations that play current pop and what passes for rock (for some), but if I hear one more pop millionaire singing, no, whining plaintively about how lonely he/she is, I'm gonna swear off radios (I probably won't).

Rap? Not on a bet. I kind of liked Tone Loc and a couple of others, but it seems as though more recent rappers seem to have reverted to a form of prehistoric savagery.

I've been listening to more classical music lately. I find I like Strauss waltzes. I like Mozart and Beethoven. If I knew more about classical, I could name more. I'm learning.

After many years of staying away from country music (music for dumb people), I've actually started to listen to country some. It doesn't any longer seem to be all of that "I Got A Duck Sittin' On My Hand And I'm Feelin' Down" stuff. It actually seems like a sort of light rock that you can understand the lyrics, sung by nice-looking people whose parents taught them how to dress. Oh, crap! I've just proved that I'm getting old (dammit)!

Well, this has been a fairly long, rambling entry, signifying I'm not sure what, but I've put too much into it to delete it. The point is, (yes, I did start with a point in mind) if you like music, there's way too much of it to allow yourself to become stuck in a single decade. Some bit of every genre is really good, and the rest is mediocre to lousy; it becomes the task of each of us to make the choices.

They've killed Freedom! Those bastards!

Warm regards,
Col. Hogan

Remember, Remember the 5th of November

I saw Serenity, loved it. I've seen dozens and dozens of movies with positive messages of freedom with strong, uncompromising heroes and heroines over a life of enjoyment of movies of many types. This is why I tend to like action movies. I can sit back, relax and observe a straightforward view of an individual trying (and usually succeeding) to make his part of the universe a better place. Some of these stories are explicitly pro-freedom and others address a single injustice of some sort.

Gladiator, for example, was one man's battle against a failing government, though the story had very limited political significance except to illustrate the extent to which a mad dictator will go to enforce his will.

The Last of the Mohicans (the more recent release), was one man's struggle to live his life independently, in the midst of a war between two oppressive governments, in which efforts are made to draw him into a military battle.

V For Vendetta is a man's battle against an oppressive government that destroyed tens of thousands of lives during its drive to solidify its hold on the individuals who lived within its boundaries. A grave injustice was done to this individual, along with his fellow victims, for which he plans to destroy the oppressive regime.

Along the way, he saves the life, then falls into a tragic love with a young, heroine. To add much more would be to spoil the event, should any of you decide to see it. Suffice it to say that the story begins with Guy Fawkes, and appears to bring the story into being in a fictional future world. Fictional, but not unbelieveable....

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

Addendum: Since this isn't a review, but merely a recommendation, I'd suggest you read Scott Bieser's apt review of V for Vendetta here. I've just seen the movie once (so far) and was far too emotionally wrapped up in the story to give a good assessment. I find Scott's comments match my thoughts quite closely.

They've killed Freedom! Those Bastards!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California