Activists Missing After Declaring “War on Leather” at Motorcycle Rally

This looks like a very effective way to counter the moronic antics of the peta idiots. A counterpoint to the throwing of fake blood on furs and leather clothing.

Johnstown, PA (GlossyNews) – Local and state police scoured the hills outside rural Johnstown, Pennsylvania, after reports of three animal rights activists going missing after attempting to protest the wearing of leather at a large motorcycle gang rally this weekend. Two others, previously reported missing, were discovered by fast food workers “duct taped inside several fast food restaurant dumpsters,” according to police officials.

“Something just went wrong,” said a still visibly shaken organizer of the protest. “Something just went horribly, horribly, wrong.”

The organizer said a group of concerned animal rights activist groups, “growing tired of throwing fake blood and shouting profanities at older women wearing leather or fur coats,” decided to protest the annual motorcycle club event “in a hope to show them our outrage at their wanton use of leather in their clothing and motor bike seats.” “In fact,” said the organizer, “motorcycle gangs are one of the biggest abusers of wearing leather, and we decided it was high time that we let them know that we disagree with them using it…ergo, they should stop.”

According to witnesses, protesters arrived at the event in a vintage 1960’s era Volkswagen van and began to pelt the gang members with balloons filled with red colored water, simulating blood, and shouting “you’re murderers” to passers by. This, evidently, is when the brouhaha began.

“They peed on me!!!” charged one activist. “They grabbed me, said I looked like I was French, started calling me ‘La Trene’, and duct taped me to a tree so they could pee on me all day!”

“I…I was trying to show my outrage at a man with a heavy leather jacket, and he…he didn’t even care. I called him a murderer, and all he said was, ‘You can’t prove that.’ Next thing I know he forced me to ride on the back of his motorcycle all day, and would not let me off, because his girl friend was out of town and I was almost a woman.”

Still others claimed they were forced to eat hamburgers and hot dogs under duress. Those who resisted were allegedly held down while several bikers “farted on their heads.”

Police officials declined comments on any leads or arrests due to the ongoing nature of the investigation, however, organizers for the motorcycle club rally expressed “surprise” at the allegations.

“That’s preposterous,” said one high-ranking member of the biker organizing committee. “We were having a party, and these people showed up and were very rude to us. They threw things at us, called us names, and tried to ruin the entire event. So, what did we do? We invited them to the party! What could be more friendly than that? You know, just because we are all members of motorcycle clubs does not mean we do not care about inclusiveness. Personally, I think it shows a lack of character for them to be saying such nasty things about us after we bent over backwards to make them feel welcome.”

When confronted with the allegations of force-feeding the activists meat, using them as ad hoc latrines, leaving them incapacitated in fast food restaurant dumpsters, and ‘farting on their heads,’ the organizer declined to comment in detail. “That’s just our secret handshake,” assured the organizer.

For more on this story, check with the ultimate hoax busting site to track late-breaking developments.

Point----->Counterpoint!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag Californis

Unintended Consequences

An excellent example of unintended consequences that favor liberty.

Hat tip: Betsy Speicher

They've killed Freedom! Those bastards!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Technology is Still Scary to Some

Let me preface by saying that I, even to this day, observe that many people approach the common escalator with a degree of awe. One can watch them: Stop at the edge of the abyss, look down and judge the proper moment to step off. After these many decades of escalator use, one might think we'd find them second nature by now.

Today, I went to my neighborhood Target to pick up a few items. After taking care of business on the first floor, I took the upscalator to the second. I had to stand idly on the bloody thing, because the folks in front of me wouldn't move. A common thing. It seems as though very few people understand that, even though an escalator is moving, it's still possible to walk it like stairs to change floors more quickly.

On the second floor, I picked up a few items and had to return to the first floor to get one of the Items being prepared for me. That's when I learned that the downscalator was stopped, out of order and had caution tape over the entrance. I went to the two (and only two) elevators to see that there was a deep crowd waiting.

There probably is a regular staircases somewhere, but it isn't apparent, nor is it obviously marked. There is one out in the parking structure, but you can't go to the parking structure without passing through the checkout and paying for your goods, This, I was not yet ready to do.

Being the ne'er-do-well rabble rouser that I am, my solution was to duck under the caution tape and walk down the stalled downscalator. I picked up the rest of my purchases, paid for everything and went to the door, where I braced the security guard.

Does everyone know that the escalator is broken?"

"Yes. We have a call in to the repair shop."

"Do you know that it's possible to walk down a stopped escalator as if it's a normal stairway?"

"The escalator has been closed for safety reasons."

"Do you know that everywhere in the world that has escalators leaves them open when they're broken so that they can still be used as stairs? Your two little elevators ain't making it."

"We're sorry for the inconvenience, but we have to think of the safety of our guests."

"Well, I guess that'll have to do, if thinking isn't an option," I said finally as I headed for the parking structure. I didn't tell him that I just walked down the broken escalator, thinking that with him, I might face arrest.

I'm on the lam, but I ain't no sheep!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

roken Escalator - Watch more funny videos here

Just When You Think They Can't Get More Stupid....

The one thing that every elected official and top-level appointed employee of el Pueblo de Los Angeles is that each and every one of them is stupid beyond belief. Individuals who can actually do things never become Bureau chiefs or City Councilmen. El Alcalde's main ability is that of straight-arming his way in front of any news camera that is anywhere within line-of-sight, toppling all those in his way as if they were tenpins.

Allow me to illustrate.

Very recently, a directive came down from City Hall to the effect that "Men Working" signs and other signs that use such politically incorrect words and language be changed to "People Working," and similar.

At a time when el Pueblo is allegedly strapped for cash, every city agency that uses street signs must throw them away and replace them with "gender neutral" signs, at a cost of hundreds of thousands of dollars to already cash-strapped taxpayers.

City engineers have already been required to remove the word "manhole" from all construction drawings, plans and specifications in favor of "person hole." No, that can't be right. It raises another entire raft of forbidden thoughts and the attendant snickers, wheezes and guffaws. Nope, it was, after thousands of hours of high-priced deliberations, decided to call them "Maintenance Holes." To this day, I notice a momentary pause and involuntary intake of breath every time I stubbornly refer to the structures as "manholes," when in company of a younger city employee.

While this might seem incredibly stupid to just about any rational individual, stand by. This is el Pueblo de Los Angeles. Soon or late, they'll come up with something even more stupid!

The true stuff is the funny stuff. --Mort Sahl

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

The Current Attempted Ripoff Is Nothing New

The current attempt at "The Big Ripoff" of all productive Americans isn't without precedent. We've seen three or four of them in recent years, starting with the Chrysler Motors bailout of 1979.

Here's a particularly timely poem that fits today's situation every bit as well as it did when it was written, in 1936.

The Profits and Loss
By Berton Braley

From New Deal Ditties: or, Running in the Red with Roosevelt, 1936

When "planned economy" first began
It looked like a swell "idea" –
Until we learned it had no plan
And wasn't economee.

For the taxes rise and the budget's shot
And the New Deal costs are met
By spending money we haven't got
For things that we never get.

The Billions roll in mighty stream,
A regular tidal flood,
With the net result that each spending scheme
Bogs down in a sea of mud.

When plans and programs go all to pot
Do the New Deal planners fret?
Why no, they think up a brand new lot
Of schemes to spend what we haven't got
For things we will never get!

FDR managed to turn a banking crisis into a ten-year depression. Today's elected officeholders seem to be determined to repeat the process.

Tip of the old battered fedora to Diane Hseih at NoodleFood.

Remember: VOTE FOR NO INCUMBENT!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

The Graying of the Freeways

You might think this entry is about the lack of maintenance given to the country's freeways since their construction between the 1950's and today. Well, 'tis true enough that, in their haste to hand out vast sums of money to those who don't feel like working, and to hand out even more money to artists who construct hideous, useless structures they call objets d'art in front of government buildings and in atria and foyers of these same buildings, and to hand out money for greater and grander offices within those buildings, the highways are getting the short shrift. Politicians need these grand offices to create the edicts that cause us to have to take three to five times as long as it should to get to our lousy metal desk-furnished soft cubicles. And to wreck our cars in the potholes that happen when it rains, that there's no money left over to fix. But that's not what this rant is about, at all.

Have you ever notices, while creeping slowly along these selfsame freeways, that most of the cars thereon are gray? Almost all of them.

In the mornings I usually commute in the dark, in relatively light traffic, at normal freeway speeds. In the afternoon, on the other hand, I drive in the afternoon light, at speeds that range from a slow creep to maybe 50mph, for part of the way, if I'm lucky. Plenty of time to observe the cars around me, to observe some of their incredibly bad driving habits and to occasionally check out the odd blonde talking illegally on her cell phone.

To observe the drivers of convertibles with the tops down but the side windows up (!?) and with those silly girlie screens behind their heads so they don't have to contend with the stray current of moving air that might cause a stir in their $400 coifs.

But, most of the cars are gray. Gray cars driven by gray people. Gray, for my current purpose, includes everything from the purest silver to, but not including, black. It also includes grayish brown, grayish beige and grayish blue--and remember, they don't call it olive drab because the color is electric.

I don't think, even though it hadn't occurred to me until relatively recently, that I've ever owned a gray car. The closest was my 1975 Olds convertible, which was a kind of off-white. It also almost always had its top and all of it's side windows down unless it was raining. It doesn't rain often in the southern third of the Stalag.

Oh, yeah, my 1937 Olds hotrod was sprayed with gray primer, but only in anticipation of a deep candy burgundy paint job it would've gotten had I not sold it.

Why would anyone buy a gray car? There sure are a lot of them. Perhaps it's a herd thing. Conformity. Fitting in. A sign of a conforming society.

Perhaps it's camouflage. Pavement is gray. Blending in with your surroundings.

I think that I shall never see/
A baby blue SUV/
A car the color of the sky/
Or the blue of a baby's eye.

When I decide to buy another car, I'm going to look for paisley.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

The Chimp Made A Monkey Out Of The Zookeeper

I don't think I ever saw anything so pathetic--or funny--in my life......well maybe, but not recently.

According to a story on Metro.co.uk, with video having been shown on tv news programs everywhere, a chimp stepped out of his cage, which was left open. This happened in the Ishikawa Zoo in Japan. A zookeeper with a trank dart gum went to subdue the chimp, and this is where everything went wrong.

The zookeeper looked like he's never held (much less fired) a gun of any kind in his entire life. He didn't know how to hold it or aim it. He was afraid to fire it. He didn't have a good grip on it.

Now, believe me when I tell you, this stuff can't be made up. As the venerable Mort Sahl used to say, "The true stuff is the funny stuff."

The wily 42-year-old chimp reached down and took it away from him. The chimp simply dropped it to the ground but I, truth be known, was hoping he'd shoot the stupid zookeeper with it. It'd do the little idiot a lot of good, to take a long enforced nap. Perhaps he'd wake up realizing that he'd better learn how to do his job.

Now, I know Japan has no history of the use of firearms, with the exception of those few years leading up to and including WWII. This fellow is far too young for that.

Perhaps they're having problems with quality in Japan's children's prisons, too.

The inmates are taking over the asylum.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Hey, Kids! What Time Is It?


When the red phone rings at three in the morning (3AM in the morning, IYAAVOGS) , who would you like to know was going to answer it?

Someone who'll hold it in the right direction, one would hope.

Tip of the battered gray fedora to my Brother, the Texan.

They've killed Freedom! Those bastards!


Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

A Cure For the Woes of the California Children's Prison System

Thanks to Rob at Wild Blue Yonder, we find this gem to aid the reconstruction of the utterly failing California Children's Prison system.

In a stunning development, it was announced today that Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge has been appointed Headmaster of the California Public Schools. Professor Umbridge has pledged to stamp out all forms of homeschooling and to bring California's troubled schools up to nineteenth century standards of discipline and performance.

"There will be no more nonsense", Umbridge has decreed.

As is well known throughout the civilized world, Prof Umbridge is a character from one of the Harry Potter books.

The decision follows a criminally incompetent decision by the bought-and-paid-for California state court of appeals that will allow the state's schoolteachers to remain as incompetent as they are with little chance for most families to escape the conversion of all children into welfare state worshiping marching morons. Expect an exodus.

Tip of the old gray fedora to Wild Blue Yonder, Rational Jenn and the Philosophical Detective.

Buying stock in the moving business.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Geraldine Ferraro's Blunder

Here we have the heretofore unreported real reason why Ms Ferraro was dismissed from Mrs Clinton's Presidential campaign:

"Former Congresswoman and Walter Mondale's choice for his Vice Presidential running mate in 1984, Geraldine Ferraro, pointed out in a speech that Barack Obama is Black saying: 'If Obama was a white man, he would not be in this position.' (She) was forced to step down from the Hillary Rodham Clinton campaign for those remarks, a decision which I wholeheartedly endorse. What she should have said was: 'If Obama WERE a white man.' It is that kind of grammatical error up with which I will not put."

- Rich Galen of Mullings.com

We ought not place functional illiterates into positions of authority within our government. This may be the first thing Mrs Clinton has done right since becoming a public figure, and I hope it's the beginning of a trend.

Tip of the battered gray fedora to Chuck Muth.

Another failure of the government children's prisons.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Banking On Failure

I very recently switched to a new bank. My old institution was fine, but doesn't have a branch here in the San Fernando Valley. Sometimes you actually want to go there. My new bank is the one that reminds one of San Diego's Sea World.......Wamu the Killer Whale. Actually, I sort of prefer the more generic "Wash Mutt."

Our new arrangement--the one in which I let them store my money, and they let me have it as I need it--is already wearing a mite thin. I had an account at Wash Mutt once before, but unfortunately, there seems to have been a change in their branch operations, and not one for the better.

They've decided not to trust their clients.

They've decided to treat every client as if he is a criminal, and up to no good.

They've taken a number of pages from the American Paranoid Airport Book of Security. You open a door and enter. There's a second door that remains locked until the first door closes and locks. At this point, you're locked into a five-by-eight-foot cell.

What if something goes horribly wrong? There is no food nor water. You can see out--the cell is walled in with (presumably bulletproof) glass--and others can see in, and watch the claustrophobe scream and pound vainly 'pon the glass with bruised and bloody fists.

Then, you have to pass through a metal detector to get to the second door. Only Odin knows what will happen to you if you happen to have a particularly robust ring of keys hanging from your belt. Knockout gas? A trap door and a ride down a slippery duct to a pool of hungry crocks?
Next, if you are not wearing your Rodeo Cowboy's Association bull riding trophy belt buckle, you may proceed to the second door. If you've passed all the tests, you may enter and face the Minotaur.

Actually, he's a very old minotaur, usually with no horns and with a gray, balding scalp, and he's usually about 5'6" tall, with a bored, but strangely welcoming smile and a deceptively "Walmart greeter-like" aspect.

He's the Security Guard. Against all reason, he's also unarmed. No one says it, but they put him there to be the first one shot--a sacrificial herald, as it were--should all other devices fail. The guard gets shot, you push the alarm button. Simple.

I think they keep the line fairly long, to make the prospective robber get more and more nervous should he get by the Minotaur unscathed (and without having raised the alarm). Wash Mutt has cleverly introduced the DMV method of helping its clients: each time the length of the line increases by ten individuals, they send another teller on break.

At length, well after you've finished reading Atlas Shrugged, or whichever novel you've brought along to help pass the time, you get to greet the often-pretty smiling face of the empty-headed teller. She (sometimes he) might be very nice, and even smart as a whip, but Wash Mutt doesn't want smart tellers, they want tellers who'll follow procedure. Always.

Make every arrangement possible that your transaction is simple and that your deposit slip is in order: t's crossed and i's dotted, and that all arithmetic is correct. Miss Teller will know if you've added 9 and 3 and got 13. They're trained to see these things. If she ever misses one, it'll be caught by the Supervising Teller watching on the monitor behind the wall. The teller will then be fed to the crocks in the pool under the bank.

Exiting the bank is exactly the same as entering: two doors enclosing a little cell--except here, there's no metal detector. A word of caution, though. If you've passed through the first door, then remember something, you can't go back! You'd have to go through the second door, then return through the first entrance door, with all the dangers and pitfalls enclosed therein.

I already know that I don't like this kind of treatment. I don't know how long I'll remain a client of Wash Mutt.

Ok, here's the deal, and this is the same at all banks and most other business locations: nobody is armed there. As I mentioned, not even the Ancient Minotaur.

How long has it been since someone robbed a shooting range? A gun store?

In a shooting range, everyone has a gun. In a gun store, all the employees are armed and trained in firearm use. Were I desirous of committing armed robbery, a gun store would be the last place I'd think of going.

Banks have a lot of money inside, and no one inside has a gun. All the robber has to do is get past those damned doors. Thus, a bank is like a school: if the evil-doer can get inside the premises with a gun, he's free to kill as many as he wants, without fear of opposition.

Yet I, who have no intention of ever robbing a bank, have to put up with this inconvenience, not to mention the presumption of guilt, this impersonal (yet very personal) system imposes 'pon me and every other honest client.

Every year, hiding my cash under the mattress looks better and better.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

A Few Random Mental Meanderings

OJ Simpson was arrested today for Celebrity Armed Robbery, as the cable tv news stations are reporting all day, every day ad nauseum. If Celebrity Drunk Driving, Celebrity Driving Without a License, Celebrity Leaving the Scene of an Accident and Celebrity Possession of Cocaine carries a sentence of twenty-four hours in jail (not each, mind, but for the lot!), what do you suppose will be the sentence for Celebrity Armed Robbery? Forty-eight hours? Or is that too traumatizing?

***

Those who beat their swords into plowshares will plow for those who don't.

***

Women who arrange their clothing so that their underwear--even bra straps--show outside of their outer clothes, ought to be recognized for what they are: stylistically challenged.

***

Men whose drawers show outside of their trousers should be laughed at, mercilessly.

***

Individuals who are psychologically unable to have a cell phone and not be talking to someone, need help.

***

One or more parties in every auto collision has a cell phone, reading material, a shaver, a lipstick, a hair brush or something like that in his or her hand at the time of the collision.

***

An armed society is a polite society. --Robert A Heinlein

***

The first requirement for membership in the Republican Party is to have been born without a spine.

***

D'ja ever notice that on the rare occasions when Mrs Bill Clinton is asked a tough question, or one she won't answer, she breaks out in peals of raucous laughter? She does that to buy a bit of time while she thinks about how she'll evade the issue.

***

Things rattlin' around in my head,

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

At Last! An End To Global Warming!

If an individual is going to accept the algorians' assertion that the actions of human beings is causing the climate of the planet to warm, one has first to conclude that human action, of the sort of which mankind is currently capable and in which we are involved, can cause climate change. If we are capable of causing global warming, we should also be able to cause global cooling.

According to Vin Suprynowics, a columnist for the Las Vegas Review-Journal, in this column, we need first figure out how global cooling was achieved in the past. Suprynowics begins by deftly deflating the comic seriousness of the algorians thusly:

"If warming continues at the present rate, the most significant impact is likely to be a small increase in the amount of previously frozen ground on which people could grow wheat."

He then continues onward to point out the circumstances which have caused planetary cooling in the past:

"How about examining the historical record for the approximately 200 years for which we have reliable weather data? Look to see if there was a period when the weather cooled down, all of a sudden, and what caused it.

"Google "Year Without a Summer." From April 5 to 15, 1815, Mount Tambora on the island of Sumbawa in the Dutch East Indies (modern-day Indonesia) blew up, ejecting 40 cubic kilometers of volcanic ash (more than twice as much as the 1883 explosion of Krakatoa) into the upper atmosphere."

And the result:

"That stuff stayed up there, in the jet stream, for more than a year. Sunlight was reflected off that orbiting cloud of crap and had trouble getting through. The 'Year Without a Summer,' known colloquially as 'Eighteen hundred and froze to death,' was 1816, in which severe summer climate abnormalities destroyed crops in Northern Europe, the American Northeast, eastern Canada and even China."

The solution is obvious:

"Clearly, if anyone believes Earth is warming catastrophically and that we need to do something, the only proven solution is to start throwing as much crap into the atmosphere as we possibly can, right now.

"Clean nuclear and natural-gas-fired power plants must be shut down and immediately replaced with coal plants burning the softest, dirtiest coal -- peat would be better -- that can be found. "Smog inspections" will take on a new meaning as our cars will be checked regularly to make sure each is pouring out the densest possible cloud of carbon particulates and lifesaving black soot.

"Since every little bit counts, we may also have to make tobacco smoking mandatory for everyone above the age of 10."

Obviously, Suprynowics is taking the entire algorian hoax with the entire grain of salt it deserves, as am I. This is why I drive a big old pre-smog device V-8 station wagon and use only incandescent light bulbs in my house. I'd even take up smoking, if I could afford it after buying thirty-six gallons of gas a week.

One must do his part in the war against global warming.

Tip of the battered grey fedora to Rush Limbaugh, who observed that "a columnist from LVRJ" wrote the column, but never credited Mr Suprynowics by name.

Remember, you can't trust any air you can't see.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

A Visit to the Bookstore

This afternoon the Hollywood Freeway, US 101 through Hollywood, had a Sigalert. A sigalert is an unplanned lane closure on a California freeway that lasts more than thirty minutes. They're usually caused by a serious collision of a nature that take some time to clean up. As I was driving home from a little Saturday overtime work, I heard the announcement that two southbound and one northbound lanes were closed because of "police activity." I've heard no further explanation so far. I suspect there was a Dunkin' Donut truck spill. They've been known to keep the California Highway Patrol tied up for hours.

Since I knew that would probably mean at least an extra half-hour of excruciatingly slow driving, I opted to take the I-5 freeway up to the valley instead. It's an extra three or four miles, but that distance at 60mph is better than the shorter distance at five mph.

As I kroozed past the huge and lovely Griffith Park, I recalled that I'd been putting off a trip to Barnes & Noble to shop for a copy of Newt Gingrich & William Forstchen's new historical novel, Pearl Harbor, and S.M. Stirling's alternate history novel, A Meeting at Corvallis.

I drove to the Burbank Shopping Center.

The first thing I saw at the "New Arrivals" case just inside the door of the Burbank B&N curdled the contents of my stomach and the first thirty-two feet of my small intestine. Six rows of books showing a plain white dust cover 'pon which were printed, in plain New Times Roman, the words "The Assault on Reason." Not terribly threatening, one might observe, written perhaps by Robert Bidinotto or Leonard Peikoff. But, No! Below the title of the book, was the name of the alleged author: Al Gore.

Now, boys and girls, if there is anyone on planet Earth that should be disallowed from using the word reason, that person would be Algore. Not only does Algore never use his ability to reason, limited as it appears to be, but he doesn't understand the meaning of the concept at all! I ran screaming from the store.

In my head.

What the people around me in the B&N store saw was a mere rustle in the front of my shirt, partly concealing the turning of my stomach, as I immediately began searching for the bathroom for a safe place to deposit the contents thereof.

The left have already coopted the words liberal and progressive to mean their direct opposites. Now, what are they going to do with the word reason?

I quickly bought the books I came for and hurried home, to try to forget.

They've killed Freedom! Those bastards!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

A Modest Proposal

Mexico is a very wonderful, beautiful and resources-rich country of about 110 million population. It has one of the more corrupt governments in this hemisphere, which manages to keep almost all of its people poor, and without much hope for self-improvement within the country's legal system (such as it is).

The only hope for a reasonably comfortable life for many Mexicans is to go north, to one of the United States, in hopes of finding menial, though somewhat steady, work at several times the salary they can earn in their home country. Estimates are that around 12 million illegal aliens, mostly Mexicans, have entered California, Arizona, New Mexico and Texas in the past twenty-five years. Many have moved north and east to other states, and and can be found anywhere.

Working. Doing menial and lower-paid jobs that most Americans, used to the quasi-benefits of the US welfare state, will not deign to accept.

Accurate estimates are difficult, because of the illegal nature of their entry. Many of them work "off book" and few records exist on their histories and whereabouts. Also, many "compassionate" civil agencies, in accordance with their employees' quest to actually do less and less work, take care not to learn whether a particular Hispanic-looking individual is here legally.

Because most of these individuals are leading a sort of "black market" existence, it follows that they pay relatively little in taxes, compared to their legally employed neighbors. They pay sales tax, of course, when they make retail purchases, and vice taxes for cigarettes and liquor, and they pay assorted other taxes that exist as part of retail purchases. They often don't pay income taxes, payroll taxes nor property taxes.

This becomes problematic for money-hungry bureaucrats as they realize that some of these people have families here, with children, all availing themselves of public education, emergency medical care and the many subsidized services that are covered by public funds.

Estimates are that each illegal alien in any of the United States receives as much as $20 thousand more each year in public services than he pays in taxes.

America's federal politicians, not to mention a large minority of state and local office holders, seem to want to ignore these losses out of "compassion" which in Political Speak equals votes.

My proposal is as follows:

Since the approximate number of Mexican who reside and work in the various United States is approximately 12 million, or roughly a tenth of the entire population of Mexico, I propose that the federal government annex approximately a tenth of the physical area of Mexico, as territory of the United States, to perhaps become one or more States of the United States.

For reasons both practical and humanitarian, I propose that the federal government allow current residents to stay or leave, at their own convenience and pleasure. I further propose that private property owners retain title to their property, to keep or sell. Public property within the territory should be sold by the US federal government to the highest bidder, the money used to pay down the government's debts. Development of these lands will stimulate America's economy very nicely.

I propose that the lands selected be Mexican states bordering along the edge of US States, for example, the Mexican states of Baja California and Baja California Sur, which are south of California, along with Tamaulipas, which is south of Texas, are equal to just over a tenth of the just over a tenth of the area of Mexico.

If Mexican citizens continue to enter the various United States illegally, the federal government could then select other bordering Mexican states to help offset the costs of transitioning those individuals and families into our way of life.

It seems like it'd be good for both the United States and Mexico, since American entrepreneurs are constantly looking for investments, and since Mexico seems to have difficulty controlling various parts of its territory. It will ease the financial and societal burdens incurred by the transition of these individuals and families into our society. Conversely, it'll ease the burdens on the government of Mexico.

It seems like a win-win transaction!

Warm regards,

Jonny Quick, Guest Blogger.

Long Live the King!

Today, Nicolas Sarcozy was elected President of France, defeating Socialist Segolene Royal by a wide margin. Story here. "You can count of France as a friend," Sarcozy said to America during his victory speech.

I find that comforting.














One thing I noticed: the defeated Mme Royal bears a uncanny resemblance to a certain American socialist: Ms Katrina vanden Heuvel, editor and publisher of The Nation, what one might consider a very leftist-oriented political magazine, and the woman for whom the famous New Orleans Hurricane was named.

I wonder if they're actually both the same person....

France's loss is the world's gain.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag Califorina

A Few Random Thoughts

You get a little time to think while listening to the radio during my 40 to 70 minute drive to the office and back each day.

The funny part of it is that most ads seem to be geared toward the most stupid people. The bad part is, when one realizes it becomes difficult to take the advertisment, the advertiser, and even the product seriously.

In Los Angeles, and probably everywhere else, certain advertisers use saturation advertising--a program in which they buy a spot in just about every commercial break, on just about every radio or tv station. How this can be successful is far beyond my ken. I hear their ads so often that I come to the state in which I change the station when I hear certain ads. There's no chance I'd actually venture into the store in question!

Also, consider the following:

• Advertisers of British cars often employ narrators with English accents. Why don't advertisers of German cars have German accents? Why don't advertisers of Japanese cars have Japanese accents?
• How many people do not know that a ten-digit phone number requires a "1" prefix?
• Don't advertisers know that "Save 20% Off" is redundant?
• Has it occurred to anyone besides me that advertisers who announce their phone number more than twice, do so because they think we're stupid?
• How is it that advertisers know what we deserve?
• What's the difference between a laundry list and a list?
• "Results may vary" is advertiser code for "sometimes it works."
• The purpose of the disclaimer at the end of an ad is to tell you that everything previously said is a lie.
• In an ad, why is it that the smart one is always a woman and the dumb one is always a man?
• What does "Save up to 25% or more" mean?
  

I love advertising. How else can one learn about the many products available? But really! People aren't that stupid.....I hope.

Perhaps I spend too much time listening to the radio.

Hunting for consistency...

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Environazi Jihad, or alGorea Fatwa

In light of the oft-stated desire on the part of the alGorean fundamentalists to destroy the lives of Global Warming Deniers (an unofficial club in which I've proudly become a member), we find it advisable that Global Warming Cool Heads go into hiding. Rumor has it that alGorea death squads are forming up to search out heretics and shut their mouths permanently.

The dirty little secret? Funds raised by those Carbon Vouchers about which we often hear are being used to train and equip hit squads in hidden desert camps in strategic areas of the world.

University of Copenhagen Professor Bjarne Andresen has placed himself at risk by declaring that "the currently used method of determining the global temperature -- and any conclusion drawn from it -- is more political than scientific," according to a story here.

This entire new course by the alGorean fundamentalists got its start with derisive comments by Robert F Kennedy, as reported here. It became a bit more serious as a result of threats by various global warming mullahs, including Dr Helen Cullen, of the Weather Channel, who called for all meteorologists who don't toe the Global Warming religion to be decertified.

In the light of the truth, and the emergence of more and more viable commentaries finding fault with the mullahs of Global Warming, desperation is setting in, calling for more drastic measures, such as the silencing of heretics. Professor Andresen ought to exercise caution when travelling into hotbeds of alGoreans. As for myself, I find it illuminating to hide amongst them, right in the belly of the beast, in one of the many centers of the alGorean jihad. Helps me to keep my edge.

It gives us even more reason to patronize the products of Denmark, as Danes emerge as the world's leading heroes in the fight against crazed fanatics of all sorts.

Save a tree. Exhale.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Parasites--Same the World Over

I always thought the state legislature here in the Stalag was the single most useless body of wasted humanity 'pon this planet, next to the (nearly) whole of Washington DC. It may still be the case, but I'd like to enter, for your consideration, the North Dakota State House. Much smaller and less opulently endowed than that of the Stalag, it still manages to waste money (extorted from others) to a degree that, I'm sure, holds its own on a per-capita basis.

In a story on the BusinessPortal24.com site (with additional commentary from Ole Bjugstadt of Finley, North Dakota), we find that, in a rare show of restraint, the North Dakota State House rejected a measure to honor Bono, of the rock band U2, for his efforts to relieve the debt of third world countries (presumably debt to us, here in the United States).

Bono, who has worked very hard throughout his youth to make a success of the band U2, and who now is enjoying the bountiful fruits of his labors, has been hob-nobbing with Hollywood "philanthropists," and has learned from them the means of becoming well thought of in the larger society (outside of the world of rock 'n' roll).

You simply announce that you wish to help the poor, then you talk other people into doing it with their money. Then, you take credit for the whole thing.

An Assemblyman from Fargo submitted the bill to the august body, even though Bono has no connection whatever with the State of North Dakota and, to my knowledge, has never even been in North Dakota. One Assemblyman was heard to say that he thought they meant the late Sony Bono.

Some say U2 gave a concert in Fargo once, but the truly savvy know that it was actually Babe's Bitch, a garage band from Brainerd, filling in for them on an occasion in which they accidentally booked two locations on the same night. After they costumed themselves in "depressing European suicide rock band" drag, each of the members of Babe's Bitch drank a pint of Canadian Club before the concert to be able to truly look convincing in the role.

Major music critics have yet to weigh in on the success of the concert, and many Fargo concert attendees said they enjoyed the music, though one fan who traveled down from Winnipeg said he thought the singer sounded Norwegian.

Fortunately, a majority of the state's Assembly didn't hit the Canadian Club on this occasion and cooler heads prevailed. Bono will have to, for the time being, remain "just another Irishman" in the records of the North Dakota State Assembly.

Yet another thing for Europeans to hold against America.

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California

Baby, It's Cold Outside--and Inside!

It's a bad time to have the heater go out. We've had a couple of people out to look at it, but they both told us very different stories about what's wrong with it. We're having a third outfit look at it Tuesday.

Meanwhile, all we have to heat the house is four of these electric room heaters. Hey, they work! As long as you're sitting within a few feet of one.

You might say, Dude! you live in Stalag California, where the sun shines all the time. Well, it doesn't shine at night. It was well below freezing last night. One of the squirrels for which Debbie sets food was ice skating on the water pan in the back yard this morning.

I moved here to get away from all that ice and snow crap.

If this happens one more night, I'm going to call for Aid from FEMA. Seems to me like I could get a $2000 Visa card and maybe an expenses paid couple of weeks in New Orleans. Der Governator has already done his part by declaring a State of Emergency, so I only hope we can hold out until Aid arrives.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting in front of my heater, waiting for my Visa card. I wrote an email to Algore, in hopes he'll find a way to hurry Global Warming (might as well keep all the options open), and one to Santa Claus, in case he might be able to give me any cold weather tips.

Now, I'm off to the rink. I've heard it's warmer there.

Chilly regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California