FDR said that we have nothing to fear but fear itself — whatever that means.
Obama says that we have nothing to fear from Islam, so we must guard against Islamophobia.
Moral: It is wise to fear left-wing presidents who tell us we have nothing to fear.
An epidemic of Obamaphobia would have been a good thing in 2008 and 2012.
The libertarian wants everything to be legal and nothing to be free.
The conservative wants some stuff to be illegal and nothing to be free.
The fascist wants to tell everyone what they should like because it’s the “national will.”
The socialist wants to tell everyone what they should like because it’s “good for them,” and he’ll make the rich pay for most of it.
The modern liberal is a socialist who tries to hide it by calling himself a progressive.
Me, to a friend who believes in majority rule (regardless of who’s in the majority or what it does):
So if a majority of your neighbors votes to burn down your house, it’s okay?
Later in our exchange I observed that the right to vote has become the right to steal.
W.S. Gilbert — the “Mr. Words” of Gilbert and Sullivan — liked to poke fun at the aristocracy; for example:
I am, in point of fact, a particularly haughty and exclusive person, of pre-Adamite ancestral descent. You will understand this when I tell you that I can trace my ancestry back to a protoplasmal atomic globule. Consequently, my family pride is something inconceivable.
Pooh-Bah (The Mikado, Act I, Part III)
Lest you think that Gilbert was some kind of democrat who swooned over the masses, consider a song that occurs in Act I, Part Va, It’s sung by Ko-Ko (the Lord High Executioner), and known popularly as “I’ve Got a Little List.” My updated version goes like this:
As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
I’ve got a little list – I’ve got a little list
Of irritating persons to be taken out and shot,
And who never would be missed – who never would be missed!
There’s the pestilential nuisances who shout into their phones,
Baring inner secrets at the volume of trombones –
All people who wear stubbly beards and iridescent tats –
All children who are petulant and whiny little brats –
All drivers who in changing lanes do so without a glance –
And others who stare at green lights as if in lost a trance –
They’d none of ‘em be missed – they’d none of ‘em be missed!
CHORUS. He’s got ‘em on the list – he’s got ‘em on the list;
And they’ll none of ‘em be missed – they’ll none of
‘em be missed.
There’s the rap and hip-hop devotee, and the others of his ilk,
And the break-dance enthusiast – I’ve got him on the list!
And the people who eat a sushi roll and puff it in your face,
They never would be missed – they never would be missed!
Then the idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone,
Films that don’t have endings, and all races but his own;
And the “lady” in the leotard, who looks just like a guy,
And who doesn’t need to marry, but would rather like to
try;
And that singular anomaly, the wealthy socialist –
I don’t think he’d be missed – I’m sure he’d not he missed!
CHORUS. He’s got him on the list – he’s got him on the list;
And I don’t think he’ll be missed – I’m sure
he’ll not be missed!
And that jurisprudential malcontent, who just now is rather rife,
The loose constructionist – I’ve got him on the list!
All perfumed fellows, girly men, and dykes who seek a “wife”–
They’d none of ‘em be missed–they’d none of ‘em be missed.
And apologetic statesmen of a compromising kind,
Such as – What d’ye call him – Thing’em-bob, and
likewise – Never-mind,
And ‘St–’st–’st – and What’s-his-name, and also You-know-who –
The task of filling up the blanks I’d rather leave to you.
But it really doesn’t matter whom you put upon the list,
For they’d none of ‘em be missed – they’d none of ‘em be
missed!
CHORUS. You may put ‘em on the list – you may put ‘em on the list;
And they’ll none of ‘em be missed – they’ll none of
‘em be missed!
Compare it with the original. I would have updated the lines about apologetic statesmen to include references to Obama and Kerry, but the meter would have been disrupted.
According to Wikipedia, it means “asleep.”
Oh, that’s not what you were expecting on the day after the Iowa caucuses, in which Cruz bested Trump, and Sanders came within a liver-spot of beating Clinton. (Perhaps “beating Clinton” isn’t the right phrase. The feminazi brigade would accuse me of harboring a suppressed desire to enslave women.)
How bodes Iowa for the presidential race? I haven’t the foggiest, and anyone who opines otherwise is blowing smoke. Sure, there are some obvious losers, but they were obvious losers before Iowa. The leading contenders — Cruz, Trump, Rubio, Sanders, Clinton — are still the leading contenders.
I will say that Trump doesn’t stand a wig’s chance in a windstorm of winning the GOP nomination. The only question is which Cuban-American will get it — the Canadian or the Floridian.
And I can only hope that Hillary’s close call presages an outright defeat in New Hampshire. That’s to be expected, anyway, because Bernie is from a neighboring state, which is evidently an important qualification for the presidency. It enabled Jimmy Carter to win the South (and the presidency) in 1976.
Clinton (the misogynist one) even took Louisiana twice on the strength of his upbringing in neighboring Arkansas. I must admit, however, that Clinton’s appeal to Louisianans may have been due to his reputation for womanizing. Louisianans love “colorful” politicians (i.e., crooks and womanizers).
If the November election is between Cruz/Rubio and Sanders, the contrast between candidates will be as stark as it has been since 1964, when there was a choice between Goldwater and Johnson (JFK’s VP, not Abe Lincoln’s). Come to think of it, LBJ was a womanizer, as were predecessors JFK and FDR — also Democrats. Throw Clinton into the mix and you have a formula for electoral success: Democrat womanizer.
That would seem to rule out Hillary. Oh, wait, it doesn’t.
There are two big differences between Bernie Sanders and me.
First, I’m not a socialist. Quite the opposite. To quote Marie what’s-her-name, “Let them eat pizza.”
Second, I’m a crosspatch — just like Bernie — but a cheerful one. I would have called this blog The Cheerful Curmudgeon, but that’s an overused title.
How cheerful am I? Well, it makes my day when I see a flattened squirrel on the road.
To give you an idea of my curmudgeonliness, I was tempted to write “flattened bicyclist” instead of “flattened squirrel.”
That’s enough idle chit-chat for now. I’ll return tomorrow with a post-mortem of the presidential candidates who were flattened in Iowa tonight.
Politics and Prosperity 