A Union Wages War Against Americans, and the White House Swoons

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 Think back, if you will, to that terrible day in January of this year when a gunman of questionable sanity left dead or injured more than a dozen people who had gathered for an event in Tucson, Arizona, headlined by their local congresswoman. Within minutes of the shooting, the nation’s democrats took ownership of the tragedy, blaming conservatives for the shooting and demanding that those on the right from now on conduct themselves with only the highest level of civility and obedience.

In keeping with this commandment, Obama, using the event himself to launch his 2012 reelection campaign, headlined the ensuing “memorial”/pep rally to lecture us once again, like a finger-wagging schoolmarm, that we the people (of the right, of course) were responsible for the tragedy in Tucson and we must “be better.”

So now let’s take stock, shall we, of how well this lopsided call for civility has fared since its inception.

While there are far too many examples to cite, we the people of the right continue to hear ourselves referred to as “Nazis,” an accusation the left might abandon if they cared to get their noses into a genuine history book or two.  They then might grasp an understanding of America (including our proper number of states), as well as the fact that the Nazis where the poster children for leftwing fascism.

On a related note, we continue to hear that familiar chestnut “racist” hurled at anyone who dares to criticize this president or any leftist cause, from global warming to tax reform to illegal immigration to gun restrictions, thus rendering it the most trite and meaningless word in the English language. Meanwhile, as congresswoman Maxine Waters (D-CA) condemns the Tea Party “to hell,” vice president Joe Biden refers to those who comprise the Tea Party as “terrorists.” I question the wisdom of Biden’s accusation, coming as it does on the eve of the tenth anniversary of the day when genuine terrorists took more than 3,000 American lives in a well-orchestrated attack on American soil.

But the crowning glory of the left’s definition of civility occurred this last weekend, when a prominent union leader pledged his organization’s allegiance to the president. “President Obama,” declared the commander of the Teamster’s Union, “this is your army. We are ready to march….let’s take these son-of-a-bitches out!” (the SOBs in question being the right, the republicans, the Tea Party….you know the drill).

What has been most chilling about this diatribe is the failure of Obama, the President of the United States, to condemn this blatant lack of civility, let alone its outright call for violence against American citizens. This is not surprising, though, really, considering we have a president, who for decades listened to his family minister damn America, and who has himself called loyal thugs to do his bidding. “Bring a gun to a knife fight,” he has been known to command his minions. “Punish” our “enemies,” and “get in the faces” of those who oppose this administration. And now, with this most recent and deafening vow of silence, Obama brings once again new meaning to the word “unpresidential.”

So as this president and his followers continue to make clear that they are as exempt from an expectation of civility as they are exempt from the blue pills and life-threatening restraints of Obamacare, we the people will continue to work toward bringing someone back to the White House who not only understands the office of the Presidency, but who also understands the greatness of our nation.  Keep the faith, America.

The Secret Longings of Useful Liberal Men

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As someone constantly recognizing connections in the events that shape this world, I couldn’t help but find some rather illuminating links between news stories from the last few weeks.

The first involved Michelle Obama as she and her husband enjoyed their regal sojourn across the British Isles. The press followed the wannabe royals with slobbering idolatry, chronicling with mad, obsessive detail everything their beloveds ate, wore and said, all the while heralding them as legendary scions of style and intellect.

What captured my attention, however, was not the fabric that may or may not have adorned the first lady’s much-lauded arms and waistline, but rather comments she made to the young students at a girls’ school somewhere in Britain. In a nutshell, she confided to these impressionable young ladies that when she met her husband – to whom she said she was ordered to “mentor” – she got the feeling that he might be “useful” someday.

And that, in a related nutshell, sums up my personal perception of the liberal female view of men. Men are, after all, the root of all evil and, no doubt, the source of every awful event liberal women have ever experienced in their own personal liberal lives. But should a man pledge his allegiance to the most extreme liberal tenets and prove himself willing to sacrifice any hint of testosterone in favor of a progressive and feminized/metrosexual agenda, then that guy may just earn his way into the graces of liberal women, “useful” to their cause. Michelle here reminds us most brazenly of her own allegiance to the likes of Hillary, Janet, the Supreme Court’s Sonia, and the politically paralyzed/blinded National Organization of Women.

Think a moment about our nation’s current political climate. As entrenched and trembling republican men struggle to find their way through an angry American right, staunchly conservative women, such as Sarah Palin, Jan Brewer, Michele Bachmann, Dana Perino, Laura Ingraham, Liz Cheney and Ann Coulter are out there roaring from the rooftops, reminding Americans what this nation was and is meant to be.

What perplexes the left, particularly the men of the left, is that these women roar with a smile and a fearlessly feminine sparkle, extolling the virtues of joyful patriotism, love of country, and, yes, even a love of men.  Such messages simply cannot be lost on those useful left-wing male reporters sent out to vilify and destroy them. Following obediently the directive, do these men wonder beneath the vitriol slung by their side, what it might be like to enjoy the good graces of women who might actually value and respect the masculine for its own sake? Women who see men as more than simply “useful” servants? In their quiet moments, do they think back to a moment when, ignored or rebuffed by smart, confident, patriotic and right-minded girls in high school and college, they pledged instead to become “useful” to those other women? Do they ever regret the sacrifice? I don’t know, of course. Just a thought.…

As I have pondered these connections and the possible secret longings of liberal men, Doug Giles, conservative author of the book Raising Righteous and Rowdy Girls has posted another of his brilliant articles on the need for young women to learn to defend themselves to the death (an assailant’s death, of course). This time his inspiration is the alleged attack by the avowed socialist and “useful” French International-Monetary-Fund president on a hotel maid in New York City, resulting in Mr. Giles’ article, “Preferred Headline: IMF CEO Killed by Rape Victim.”

Whenever Mr. Giles writes about his passionate belief that young women should be trained as both expert martial artists and expert marksmen, I am inevitably drawn to the commentary that follows. The vast majority of his readers sing his praises, but far too many ignore the message in favor simply of blasting Mr. Giles for even suggesting that young women learn to fight off attempted rapists and murderers.

That women in general — or parents of either girls or boys — would oppose Mr. Giles’ belief in self-protection….well, I don’t know what to make of that and I won’t even venture a guess. But that liberal men would find female self-protection repulsive and unacceptable….perhaps that reveals a deeply rooted psychological phenomenon deserving of study. I’m no psychiatrist, but perhaps liberal men who have allowed themselves to be subjugated as “useful” to liberal women relish secretly, subconsciously, the notion of such women rendered weak and helpless. Perhaps it is simply that hobbled testosterone making one last gasp of protest. I’m no psychiatrist, but you never know.

Let the Spin Begin

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What a difference a day makes. One day, leftwingers who for almost a decade vilified George W., his “fictitious” war on terror, and his methods and policies are rejoicing that the spiritual leader at the root of that “fictitious” war is dead. America, they assume, will ignore that those vilified Bush-era methods and policies helped lead to said terrorist’s demise. We just won’t think about that, they say. And no one else will either, right?

Wrong.

Within hours of their beloved’s announcement that he pulled the trigger, an avalanche of information and conspiracy theories came tumbling down upon the heads of smirky leftists. They thought it would be so easy. Ding, dong, Bin Laden is dead. This president got Bin Laden. Yay, Obama! Let’s all fall in behind him. Happy days are here again.

They never expected the blowback….

….He’s not really dead! Yes he is! We saw the pictures, proclaim the senators. Trust us. Oops. Nope. Those were faked. But he’s still dead! Yes, says the CIA chief, still dead, and you will all see the pictures. Oh no you won’t, says the president. You can’t handle the truth. And we can’t spike the football. What would we think if they posted pictures of the Americans they kill. Oh. Daniel Pearl. And so many others….He used a woman as a human shield. Oh no he didn’t. He wouldn’t. But a woman was shot and killed. No, not killed. Shot, not killed. Whew!….He had a gun. No, he didn’t. But that’s okay, squeals the White House. Isn’t it? Still okay to shoot him, wasn’t it? The Han Solo moment. Han shot first, at least before the politically-corrected version of the film he did. It’s okay then, isn’t it? That we shot first? And without a warrant. Say it’s okay!….Without waterboarding we wouldn’t have gotten him. No! cry the dems. Say it ain’t so! I saw the intel myself, bleats the senator. None of it came from that. Did it? So, Madam Senator, you won’t act when and if the intel does come from that? When American lives are at stake? Now that will surely resonate with America….

Shame on you people! the left shouts now in panic as they scramble for a position in this unexpected aftermath. A man is dead and you are celebrating! They lash out. At us. For recognizing their hypocrisy. For defying the narrative and refusing their leader a big bump in the polls. And for continuing to demand an election in 2012.

And today their candidate visits Ground Zero. Never has as president. Not in two-and-a-half years. Symbolic place, that Ground Zero. The perfect backdrop for this grand-daddy of all photo-ops now that the most-wanted is dead. Shanksville isn’t sexy. And the Pentagon….well, come on, it’s the Pentagon. But this…Ground Zero…yes! Especially now. So find a mirror and perfect that furrowed brow. And ask your predecessor to join the party. What’s that? He declines the invite. Smart move, President Bush. The right move. Ever the class act you are. And undeniably authentic, something we haven’t seen in a very long time.

Imagined Reflections on a Memorial in Tucson

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He kissed her good-bye that morning. Gave her a hug and told her to have fun. Then he began his Saturday work around the house.

The phone rang. He picked it up. Yes, speaking. What? No, he hadn’t heard. Terrible. No. What?

Oh, God.

The next days were fog, thick and blinding. The shock. The pain. The casseroles. He didn’t know where he was. He barely knew who he was. He heard familiar voices around him, he heard their pain, but he didn’t register faces. The only face he wanted was hers.

Wednesday. A memorial. You need to be there, they told him. It will help. Closure. You need closure, they said. It’s too soon, he told himself. But he needed to be there, they told him. So he would be. For her.

They arrived. Right on time. Just as they were told.  Along with all the others. Right on time. Here? he wondered. A smiling young blond ushered him, them, in to the arena. An arena? he wondered. Didn’t seem right.

Someone handed him a t-shirt. No, not right at all. “No,” he muttered, shaking his head, pushing the item away. “Okay,” the someone said. “If you’re sure…” He was. He walked to the next usher. The next handler. The next smiling young blond. Here. Sit here. The front row, she said. That’s right. Perfect. “So exciting,” he heard her whisper to another.

He closed his eyes. Took a breath. And he waited. As the place grew louder with voices. Distant giggles. Shouts. A rumbling din. What you hear while waiting for a basketball game. At an arena.

Time passed. He opened his eyes. Crowds still streamed in. Smiling faces. Tens of thousands. Not one known to him. He waited. Until the applause signaled him to attention. And the cheering. It had begun. This memorial.

Enter the parade. A medicine man. Some music. Faces from television, from the news, from the nation’s capitol. He didn’t know them. They didn’t know her. They spoke. And they would point at him, smile at him. And the tens of thousands would cheer. More words. A disjointed blur. A disjointed slur. Thanks for coming…a great university…the creator…a letter from Paul…be civil…such a tragedy…be civil…be better. And they would applaud. Those tens of thousands. Applauding. Cheering. Whistling. So exciting.

And deafening. Pounding in his head. Echoing, vibrating from the seats high above. So exciting. And now they were standing. He guessed he should too. Right? More words. More applause. More standing. More whistles and cheers. He heard her name. And they were clapping. And looking at him, smiling. And crushing his ribs.

They stood again. It was over. Done. This memorial. You need to be there, they had told him. It will help. He followed them out. Those tens of thousands. Back to the car. Back to his home.

He walked inside. He looked around. She would not be waiting there. Now, or ever again. He looked at the faces around him. Faces known to him. And to her. Voices familiar. How wrong they had been. “What was that?” he asked. They had no answers this time. All they could do was shrug and shake their heads.

Merry Christmas, 2010

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Here’s wishing all a very merry Christmas on this 25th day of December.  As the pastor said at the mass I attended this morning, may we all be grateful for our blessings – remembering today what we have, not what we don’t have.

In this spirit, may we also remember our men and women in the armed forces who are today far from their homes and families, sacrificing what they have to protect us and our freedoms.  Not a day goes by that I am not thankful to them for that great sacrifice, which is, and always has been, the heart and soul of America.  I pray they will know that the vast majority of us here on the homefront of this great nation we love, are grateful not only for that nation, but for them and their families, as well – on Christmas day and every day.

High Praise from a Guy Named Mark

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In the midst of all the commotion of last week’s election, someone who said his name is Mark contacted me in response to a piece I posted several months ago.

According to this guy, Mark, I am a meandering, monosyllabic moron (a new, more clever way, I presume, of labeling one’s rightwing opposition as stupid).  In addition, I am to be ridiculed for my inability to understand the brilliant musings of the extraordinary man who currently  occupies the Oval Office, as well as my support of so-called “real men.” My correspondent went on to say that those “real men,” thanks to their own obviously monosyllabic natures, would naturally find the ramblings on my insipid website appealing.

In response, this meandering, monosyllabic GrizzlyMom says thank you, Mark, for noticing.

Indeed no one is likely ever to reverse my take on the man currently occupying the White House (actually at the moment traveling Asia in a style, says the British press, unseen since the days of the Pharaohs and the Roman Emperors), nor will I ever apologize for my affinity for the so-called real men certain individuals apparently find so threatening. These latter charges did not faze me when leveled against me by feminist college professors way back when, and they pack even less of a punch today.

But how lovely of this guy Mark to notice that affinity – and to assume that, for whatever reason, the men in question might in turn find something of value within my meandering, monosyllabic ramblings. I take it as high praise, as do, I am sure, my readers, men and women alike – regardless of the number of syllables that happen to pepper their speech patterns.

Pathetic Efforts to Rehabilitate Michael Vick’s Rep

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Once again, I log on to my computer and see the smiling face of Philadelphia Eagles quarterback Michael Vick, celebrated by mainstream internet homepages and sport media outlets working in concert to erase all memory of Vick’s recent past as a vicious killer of dogs. There he is: vaunted gladiator of the gridiron. Athlete. Warrior. Hero.

Different words come to my mind, however: “permanent record.” Join the Ku Klux Klan…permanent record. Molest a child…permanent record. Leave a woman to drown in a car that falls off a bridge without notifying authorities…sorry, permanent record. No rep rehab for you! The same applies to the decision quarterback Vick made years back to spent his leisure time torturing dogs and seeing them torn apart by other tortured dogs. Permanent record. No question.

Once his illegal leisure activities came to light, Vick went to prison for a time. And now, short attention spans abounding, football fans and sports media hacks have forgiven Vick his crimes — that word “forgive” playing a major role in the familiar story of a man’s ability to throw a football trumping a moral compass. Sorry. It will always be permanent-record territory to me. And I’m not alone in this. Some months back, for instance, Dennis Miller took a call from a young woman on his radio show who insisted in a sweet, sugary tone that Dennis must forgive Michael Vick in the name of Christian goodness. With his usual eloquence, Dennis said (and I echoed with far less eloquence): No way!

What this caller failed to recognize is that it is not Dennis’ place…or mine…or yours…or ESPN’s…to forgive Michael Vick. He didn’t hurt Dennis. He didn’t hurt me. Or any of us. No, he hurt animals we call our “best friends,” animals that had no choice but to endure his torture. He hurt animals I love – dogs – in the most vicious, most heinous, ways possible, without remorse, without contrition. We have heard a feeble “sorry” or two from him in the name of forced repentance and career salvation, but no heartfelt condemnation of dog fighting, no effort to prevent and/or end the suffering of other animals enduring atrocities identical to those he himself once perpetrated. It’s the dogs who need to do the forgiving. And they’re not talking.

So, no, I won’t forgive Michael Vick. It’s not my place. But it is my place to choose a side in battles of right and wrong, good and evil. One look at my resume, highlighted by decades of writings about dogs, children and the link between the abuse of animals and children, and it’s no secret which side I choose.

Meanwhile, Michael Vick moves on, reveling once more, with the help of a complicit media, in his glory as football hero, Super Bowl contender, role model. But I haven’t moved on. And I won’t. And I hope all who love dogs, even those who also happen to love the Eagles, will never forget the permanent record.

Tonight on Discovery: Man vs. Metrosexual

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The attack this past week on the Discovery Channel headquarters by an environmental activist who was inspired by Al Gore and his “documentary,” An Inconvenient Truth, got me thinking about a trend – a convenient truth — I have been noticing this summer. In a nutshell: Men are alive and well, and we still like having them around.

I recognized this trend, this truth, while, at the behest of my son, I was watching Discovery’s reality shows that showcase the fine art of survival, either on the job (Deadliest Catch) or in the wild (Man vs. Wild, Dual Survival, etc.) . These shows are wildly popular, their key players — from captains of ice-encrusted boats seeking Arctic crab, to military-trained experts demonstrating survival tips in case of wilderness isolation or apocalypse — becoming household names coast to coast. Like I said, alive and well.

Which tells me something, too, about all those soft, non-threatening, oh-so-celebrated metrosexuals that grace most of America’s magazine covers: George Clooney, Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt, and, of course, the illustrious Barack Obama. Sing their praises if you must, but obviously there are still plenty of Americans, men and women alike, who revere the masculinity, self-sufficiency, independence, resourcefulness and virility at the core of the Discovery guys’ popularity (and, in a sense, at the core of America itself).

It’s not that difficult to figure out. Our culture may have been subverted in recent decades by radical feminists who would label men “scum” yet insist that women are their equal, and politically correct philosophies and policies that mandate there is no evil, no right, no wrong, but that does not change who we are fundamentally as animals. When faced with danger and those who would hurt our homes and families, most of us, like our non-human brethren, still look up to those who know how to keep us warm, keep us fed, keep us safe, and keep us alive.

If my family were stranded in the tundra, left to our own devices in the aftermath of a natural disaster, or threatened by the consequences of a lawless society, some guy whose skill set consists solely of mugging for a camera lens, reading a teleprompter and matching a silk tie to an Italian suit would be of no value whatsoever. On the other hand, a man who can navigate a ship through a blizzard on an icy sea; who can find water and shade in Death Valley; who would take down a plane hijacked by terrorists before it reaches DC; or who can use a gun and a blade for food, shelter and self-protection.…I’ll stick with him, thank you very much.  It’s a safe bet most of the rest of us would too.

Seeing Through Obama’s Latest Speech to Our Wounded Warriors

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I made a conscious decision this morning not to watch Barack Obama’s planned speech today to the disabled veterans. There is only so much I can take, not only of him, but of his lame attempts to appear manly, powerful and pro-military. We know what they say, however, about the best laid plans….

As fate would have it, I found myself sitting in my mechanic’s waiting area for about an hour’s worth of repairs to be completed on my car. Lucky me, that happened to be precisely the hour when Obama gave his speech to the veterans, broadcast by Fox News on my mechanic’s waiting-area television. In a phenomenon akin to a failed attempt to look away from a trainwreck, my clicking away at my laptop could not divert my attention from Obama’s droning monotone on the TV.

As I was unfortunate enough to discover, his speech was the same telepromptered tripe we have come to expect from this man: the complete lack of emotion, the bobbling of the head from side to side, from teleprompter to teleprompter, as though he is watching a tennis match; a few lame jokes and applause lines and his embarrassing pause awaiting the appropriate response.

But one segment stood out above the rest: his carefully scripted greeting to the Vietnam veterans in attendance. He, as usual, feigned undying support for all they endured then and what they endure now. He scolded those in this country who abused these warriors when they returned home from their tours of duty, verbalizing mechanically his outrage that Americans would dare to treat them so.

On it’s face, it was an appropriate tribute to those Vietnam vets — until you remember that it was being spouted by a man who has made his career out of aligning himself with those very people — the radicals and appeasers and left-wing tyrants (to name a few) — who perpetrated those unforgivable acts against our troops.  He has boasted of these alliances repeatedly, celebrating them, documenting them in his goopy biographies, appointing these individuals his czars and advisors. This did not stop him today, however, from offering our wounded warriors this shameless tirade. All in all, classic Obama.

Those of us who revere the Constitution and the greatness of America never bought his rhetoric. Ever. We ignored his script and his cadence, directing our collective attention instead to the man’s actions, his history and his alliances, knowing those would tell us exactly who he was and who he is. And they did. Wayward souls who weren’t originally so attentive join us daily in their own discoveries and  revelations, now seeing clearly, as well, the context, agenda and surreptitious tyranny that was right there in front of them all along. So save the pretty words, Mr. President. We’ve heard enough.

Accountability and Regretful Americans

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I wish I could laugh, hearing that captains of industry now regret the millions they donated to Barack Obama, arming him with the power to decimate American industry and the free-market system. I wish I could smile when I hear the lapdog media reporting with shock that confidence in this President is plummeting across the board, and that even members of his own party are realizing they have made a terrible mistake by pledging him their blind allegiance. I wish I could at least grin upon hearing that millions of voters now admit they would vote differently if given the opportunity to go back in time to November, 2008.

But I’m not laughing, and neither am I feeling the relief I suppose I should upon hearing that these Americans have recognized the terrible mistakes they made. Because of the devastation those mistakes, those choices have caused our country, our families and our children, I feel no relief, no sympathy. This is permanent-record territory, so anger is all you’ll get from me.

From sea to shining sea, well-educated, highly skilled, Constitution-loving Americans are admitting they regret their votes for Obama now that their eyes have opened to the true character and agenda of the man. We just don’t understand what happened, these individuals invariably plead.

But why don’t they understand? What’s the big mystery here? It’s really quite simple: They and so many others just don’t want to acknowledge the part they played in the current attacks on our country. They did so knowingly, and probably at the time with a big goofy smile of do-gooder, guilt-relief on their faces.

Though my own conscious is clean, I find the simplicity of this tragic situation staggering. Here you have thoughtful, highly skilled, professionally experienced people who have worked very hard for what they have achieved in this life. I know these people. You know them, too. Now along comes this guy running for President. To spare my own sanity, I’ll skip the description of his lack of experience, his mysterious past, his frightening associations, and his childhood scars.

Now, given this man’s thin resume and problematic personal background, let’s ask our regretful yet accomplished, hard-working, professionally experienced Americans, including friends and family members of our own, if they would ever hire this man to work for their companies, their practices, their shops. Of course they wouldn’t. And they would say this without hesitation, I’m sure. Yet millions of these same accomplished, professionally experienced friends and family members, also without hesitation, entrusted the futures of our precious nation, our families and our children to this same incompetent individual.

And they should be ashamed. Not shocked. Not disappointed. Ashamed.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to shed my own anger over what they did to us – beginning with what I hope will be a redemptive election for our country come November. In the meantime, all those regretful Americans out there can take their first step toward their own redemption by acknowledging their guilt – not regret, guilt — and then doing all they can to make things right again.