Back to Basics

I was in Atlanta’s Hartsfield Airport recently and had a three-hour layover before I headed back to Miami. So, I did what any sensible gentleman would do-namely, I headed up to the Heineken Bar & Grill to get a beer and roast a fine puros before my plane ride home.

Upon arrival at the bar I found a table, jammed my carry-on underneath it, unzipped my secret 007 storage pouch, extracted my zebra skin cigar holder, and pulled from that sweet piece of leather a Padron 1964 Corona. After getting that bad boy ignited I yanked out my Mac and began to pound away on another common sense column certain to infuriate the progressives while simultaneously making Jesus love me more and more.

As I was sitting there getting into the zone, a waitress approached and asked me what I wanted to drink. I asked her if they had any Heineken. She didn’t get it at first … then she got it and said, “Dude, my day sucks enough as it is. Quit making it more miserable.” I said I was sorry and that I would like a Heineken, to which she replied, “Can I see your ID?” I told her I was flattered but am happily married. She retorted, “Don’t flatter yourself; we card everyone who orders alcohol. It’s the law.”

Check it out: I looked the legal age to swill a beer. I’ve got a full head of hair that might not be turning loose but is definitely turning gray. In addition to my graying locks, I have lines etched into my face from years of laughing my butt off at the inequities and absurdities of the Left, and I have well-developed crow’s-feet from looking down the barrels of guns from many, many cherished years of hunting. Suffice it to say, the waitress knew that I was at least 21-if not 51-but because it was the law she had to make proof positive that I wasn’t a 16-year-old with some weird disease that made me age prematurely into a 50-year-old smart ass.

When she asked me for my ID I didn’t cry racism, or drinking suppression, or call up Kofi Annan and request an international tribunal to cow this chick into beer-serving submission. No, instead I pulled out my ID and complied with the law and was then served a lukewarm Dutch beer.

This past week attorney general Eric Holder moved to make it illegal to prove that you’re legal in order to vote in Texas in 2012. I guess with Obama’s sagging poll numbers that Holder is concerned that the incumbent is going to get dusted come November if he doesn’t afford undocumented Democrats the wherewithal to vote early and often. Therefore, Holder wants to open up the floodgates in Tejas to the illegal alien hordes to make certain that el presidente gets four more years to further socialize what remains of our fair land.

As a Texan I think this is pure and uncut grade A horse scat, and I hope to God that my fellow Texans raise holy hell at this egregious overreach into state voting laws.

This past week Breitbart.com released a video of a young Obama singing the praises of a race-baiting prof from Harvard. I hate to say this, but I don’t think that particular video is going to dissuade the Obama zombies or the blissfully disengaged from voting for four more years of this fetid mess.

Why the pessimism, you ask? Well, it’s not because the incriminating video is not significant; it clearly is, as it once again establishes BHO’s deep allegiance to the lunatic fringe on the Left. However, his step-n-fetch voting block shares his diehard Euro-socialistic beliefs and does not mind 48 more months of an economic maelstrom at all if it means free candy for them for the rest of their mediocre, jealous lives.

Therefore, not only is that video not going to convert any of them, it will probably have the adverse effect of inciting more economic stupidity and racial bigotry by turning the ones who can read onto the mad scribblings of Derrick Bell and his bellicose beliefs.

Those of the apathetic middle who are paying minimal attention to our political milieu are not going to care enough to watch a 1991 video of Obama talking about crap they’re dispassionate about; they’re more concerned about whether or not Kim Kardashian’s butt is real, and besides, Soledad O’Brien has already told them that there is nothing to the videos. Move along, cattle. Move along.

What Breitbart.com and others have to dig up on Obama has to be so outlandish (like the infamous ACORN videos) that it completely derails the Obama love train and causes his fawners and the American Idol idiots to say, “Ew,” when it comes to voting for him this November.

For example, I’d be on the lookout for pictures, videos or documents such as the following …

1. A photograph of a young Obama kissing a Sarah Palin poster in his dorm room.
2. A video of a 22-year-old Barack clubbing a baby seal with a ball-peen hammer and/or shooting a polar bear with a .416 Rigby.
3. A video of a youthful BHO slow dancing with Lynne Cheney to Air Supply’s 1980 hit, “I’m All Out of Love.”
4. A dredged-up Occidental essay of Obama’s praising de Tocqueville’s tome, Democracy in America.
5. A 1999 video of Barack sitting in the front row of a Blue Collar Comedy show in D.C.
6. A photograph of the interior of Obama’s house with décor from Anthropologie.
7. A video of Barack stealing Sandra Fluke’s condoms she has stockpiled in her dorm then poking a hole in her waterbed and cutting the electric cord to her bedside lava lamp.

These videos, photos and documents alone would be the only empirical evidence that would shatter the spell the Obama machine has used to voodoo the gullibale GP.

No, it doesn’t matter that communist groups, terrorist organizations, or race-baiting preachers and professors endorse him. It’s not important that his economic policies are the failed derivatives of Karl Marx’s, or that gas is heading toward six bucks a gallon, or that his favorite author actually dedicated his book to Lucifer. None of these things faze the Obama fanatics, so I’m afraid investigative journalists are going to have to try harder and dig deeper.

Unlike many of Breitbart’s friends and admirers who initiated a relationship with him, I was forced to relate with him. And I don’t like being forced to do anything.

I initially met Andrew Breitbart over the phone when I called him on September 8, 2009. That was the day before my daughter Hannah’s scandalous ACORN videos were released on the public’s head.

Andrew was on the road, and I was in Vail about to speak at a men’s conference and wanted to know, from a man I didn’t know, if he was going to make certain my girl would be “safe” in every sense of the word because the ACORNs were fixin’ to hit the fan.

Having seen several of Hannah’s devastating undercover vids and knowing the weight of what was about to land on my 20-year-old, I told Andrew that if he allowed anything bad to happen to Hannah that I would hurt him. And I did not mean that metaphorically.

Breitbart said he would defend Hannah with his life and treat her as if she were his own daughter. I thought, “good answer,” and with that we began a relationship and went through a tornadic, grueling, and thrilling war against a corrupt organization and a crooked media that covers and defends such sleaze.

Every step of the way, through vicious, non-stop media attacks, death threats to our family, and multiple lawsuits, Breitbart kept his word to me and ran interference for Hannah and the ACORN story like a champion. He made certain that the proper people got crushed and the truth tellers remained afloat.

As stated, I didn’t meet Andrew as a fan; I met him as a father who doesn’t give a rat’s backside about celebrity in the conservative movement-the reason being that I’ve met a lot of them and have yet to be duly impressed by most. (The majority are preening narcissists who’d skin their granny if it would get them on Hannity. Call me jaded.)

Therefore, when Hannah’s fantastic work propelled her into a world with a lot of Slim Shadies, suffice it to say my claws were out. Andrew, however, made my talons retract because he kept his word to me (and then some), which moved me from being a skeptic to an ally of that wild-haired heat-seeking missile named Andrew Breitbart.

Here’s my takeaway from a man I didn’t seek to meet but am sure glad I did:

1. As stated, Breitbart kept his word and stayed in the volatile fray with Hannah just like he promised. Few people keep their word nowadays.
2. To Andrew, crap was crap no matter how one framed it. Andrew was an equal opportunity offender. Everything smells, so attitude sells.
3. Breitbart was bold. Would to God more men who love God and country had his moxie.

Finally, a 21st century movie that doesn’t portray our military as corrupt, stupid, confused torturers who murder innocent babies.

Act of Valor, which opened this weekend, features active (and anonymous) Navy SEALs in the re-creation of real events that showcase our crème de la crème rescuing our operatives and crushing our enemies in an OMG type of way.

I’ve got two words for the manner in which our boys were depicted in this flick … Sa-lute!

If I were a wannabe enemy of the U.S.A. (foreign or domestic) I’d be crapping my cargo pants (or tunic) after viewing Act of Valor-chiefly because our special forces are some bad mamajambas who have the tools and the tenacity to jack you up.

Yep, be afraid, villains, as our troops are effective ministers of God poised, ready and willing with stealth and style to inflict the wrath of God on those who do evil. I’m talkin’ Romans 13:1-5 style. Look it up if you don’t know what I’m talking about.

Another thing that I truly enjoyed about this film was the unambiguous patriotism of the soldiers and their families. Yep, no whining about their missions from their families or the SEALs who sacrificed their lives and limbs for God and country. It almost felt like I was in America again as I watched this movie. It was weird-but a good weird.

Even though it’s shocking to see our troops displayed in a magnificent manner within this Occuculture that loathes them, it was not a shocker to me; I have had the good fortune to spend time with many of our special ops and other soldiers in hunting camps from Alaska to Texas and have found them just as the movie displayed them: consummate class acts without a hint of the BS Hollyweird has smeared them with over the last decade.

I can’t say enough good things about this movie. In the theater in which my wife and I watched it we spotted several older gents and couples who sat in their seats and silently wept as the credits rolled. It was sacred.

I’m sure all the scabs and the venomous wood lice of the Left are going to crawl out from under the rocks where they dwell and bash this war pic, but that’s alright. Our SEALs and others have afforded you the right to be stupid and bray your insanity by keeping bad guys at bay, both at home and abroad, and thereby giving you the wherewithal to play your silly and ungrateful games against our fair land.

Lastly, parents, take your teenagers to see Act of Valor. Maybe, just maybe, some of the courage, patriotism and dignity depicted in this film will erase the film this crappy culture has slimed your kid with.

God bless America, our warriors who protect her, and those involved with this movie. Amen.

During a 2002 ABC interview Whitney Houston told an inquiring Diane Sawyer that “crack is wack.” She was correct: Crack is wack, and in the final analysis, abusing it (and many, many other drugs and alcohol) whacked Whitney.

This past Saturday Whitney Houston joined the ignoble ranks of Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Amy Winehouse, Frankie Lymon, Bon Scott, Elvis Presley, Keith Moon, John Bonham and literally hundreds of other musicians who died base and appalling drug- and alcohol-related deaths. What a shame.

For the life of me, I don’t get why New Jersey Governor Chris Christie wants to award this unheroic, pathetic and scary tale with flags flown at half-staff. Are we going to honor the life of every other singer who dies a drug addict with that which I believe is supposed to be reserved for presidents, vice presidents, chief justices, speakers of the House of Representatives, governors, members of Congress, leading citizens such as Martin Luther King, Jr., or people who have died while serving the United States? How is Whitney Houston on par with the aforementioned? Sure, she could croon, but she also funded drug dealers aplenty with her vast capital and long years of abuse.

Look, I’m neither a fan nor a foe of the deceased Houston. What I am a fan of is our kids not following her self-destructive path. Instead of Christie flying flags at half-staff he ought to come out and use his bully pulpit to drive home these seven lessons from a woman who had it all and crashed and burned.

1. Talent and mega money equals squat and can be your undoing if you do not have godly character undergirding your natural gifts. Just because you have talent, little children, doesn’t mean you’re bulletproof. Matter of fact, insane talent opens one up to insane temptations. Be afraid.

2. You’re responsible for your actions. All the talking heads on various talk shows are yapping about how Whitney had a “disease.” A disease, my backside. If her lifestyle was the result of a disease, well, that’s a disease I’d like to have because I could do something about it—unlike cancer. I had this drug-abusing “disease” from the ages of 13 through 21, and I got cured; I smoked weed every day, snorted tons of coke and dropped a lot of acid … and my disease went away. You know how I did it? I repented of my sins, begged God to change my life and put myself under accountability … and boom! … I was cured of my “disease.”

3. Don’t hang out with, nor marry, a moron. Get around people who’ll rebuke you when you are acting like a tool. Yes, hang out with friends who’ll hit you with a tranquilizing dart or whisk you off to an exorcist when they see you torching a rock.

4. If you find out your friend or spouse is a death-dealing dbag, run in the opposite direction of said enabler. Like, right now. And if you get lonely and want a friend then get a dog. I recommend a pit-bull. They’re loving pets and will scare the crap out of any Bobby Brown trying to weasel his way back into your life.

5.

This past Thursday at the National Prayer Breakfast, Obama said that his Christian faith crafts his domestic policies-particularly his desire to rob from the rich and give to the poor. In my humble opinion, I think the president is getting Jesus and His disciples confused with Robin Hood and his Merry Men.

I don’t know which White House wizard crafted that speech for him, but the verse he or she gave to our Spender in Chief to back his socialism was more twisted out of joint than a Gumby doll being worked over by a frustrated Gary Busey.

I can’t believe that hot coffee didn’t spew from hundreds of Christians’ mouths when Obama took a text that refers directly to believers’ judgment and contorted it to be interpreted as a ratcheted-up government imposed higher tax rate upon those who already bear the brunt of the tax burden.

From a theological standpoint it appears as if the president takes more of an eisegetical approach to Luke 12:48 than and exegetical one-which is convenient. But who are we to judge? Judge not.

Now … before I plow on with the topic of Obama’s Christian faith influencing his policies, I thought that in our current culture of sassy secularism elected officials, especially the president, are forbidden to merge biblical beliefs and public policy. Hell, GW couldn’t even tell Cheney “God bless ya” after Dick phlegmed his tie without Media Matters, Maddow and Matthews calling him a theocratic dominionist Nazi who was violating the Establishment Clause and who, left to his own devices, would be hanging homosexuals and burning Harry Potter books. Does Obama get a pass when he parlays his faith-based policies? Shucks … that ain’t fair, is it MSNBC?

I wish Christianity did influence Obama’s politics; if it truly did then there would be an end to abortion, bearing false witness, and obtrusive government and would allow for more liberty than ever before. In addition:

• The entitlement mentality would be history;
• We’d yield up a solid Protestant work ethic;
• We’d enforce a tougher immigration policy;
• Our military would be stronger;
• We’d have a balanced budget;
• We’d see a decrease in national debt and an end to prodigal spending;
• We’d have a defense of traditional marriage;
• And we’d revisit worshipping God rather than feckless humans and their stilted and stymied worldviews.

Lastly, with just a cursory glance at the gospels, the honest reader will note that Christ Jesus never commanded Caesar or Herod to collect taxes in order to take care of the poor. He told his disciples to give to the needy, of their own volition, as worship to God and in service to mankind, and only-only-when it’s done by these means and motivations is it deemed virtuous and Christian.

Oh, and by the way, the Scripture has a lot to say about taxes. Progressives might want to put on a cup before they click this hyperlink to see what “God” thinks about Obama’s tax plan.

Amen.

Obama, in his State of the Union address and during his initial five-state, multi-million dollar taxpayer funded re-election jaunt has stated repeatedly that his platform and policies are not about class warfare, which means, of course, that his ticket is all about class warfare-or “fairness,” as he likes to call it … or as the Scripture labels it, envy.

You don’t hear much about envy anymore, do you? We hear a lot about greed being bad, but in Obamaland envy is no longer a rank vice but a right and a virtue. However, historically speaking, envy has always been seen as a high-ranking sin. Envy, matter of fact, is second on the Seven Deadly Sins list as it lags behind pride a wee bit in being the nastiest and most common vice.

Ancient in its poison, envy forms a big chunk of the foul compost heap that stimulates the growth of human stupidity. Envy is an extremely toxic sin that doesn’t get the verbal hailstorm that other sins receive in our current entitlement culture with its totemic view of vice. Someone who has been saddled by the envy monkey will probably not make the evening news like a politician who has been caught in bed with a live man or a dead woman or who keeps his freezer stuffed with cash.

No, envy is not that sexy and doesn’t have the buzz that zings around a greedy Goldman Sachs exec. Because this sin doesn’t get MSNBC’s attention like the more juicy transgressions, we tend to see it as less naughty. But be not deceived, my brethren: This sin is disastrous once it sticks its talons into a person, party, religion, or nation.

Another distinguishing feature of the funk of envy is that it is no fun. All vices sport a momentary spice. All of them, that is, except for envy. Envy is the one sin the sinner will never like or admit. You’ll never see someone who is envious chilling out, laughing his butt off, or relaxing with his friends while this demon rules the roost. The more envy grows, the more it drives its impenitent coddler nuts.

So, what is envy? Well … let’s start with what it is not. It’s not admiring what someone else has and wanting some good stuff also. This desire will make you get off your butt in the morning and get busy. It is good to crave; a man’s appetite will make him work. Where envy differs from admiration/emulation is that envy is “sorrow at another’s good” (said Thomas Aquinas). Someone who is centered can watch another person, party, or nation prosper and not grow hateful because of it.

The whacked, petty, envious dolt, however, sees someone else excel and is slapped in the face with the reality that he just got dogged. So, instead of sucking it up and working harder and smarter, the unwise envious freak allows his pride to fuel his wounded little spirit. This sets the dejected perp down a path of disparagement of the prosperous that eventually morphs into the desire to destroy the person, party or nation that has just trumped this sad little person.

Os Guinness, best-selling author and renowned lecturer, states that the sin of envy has several common characteristics:

1.

As a Christian, I will neither defend nor excuse Newt’s past adultery. That said, after watching his ex-wife Marianne go off on him on ABC, as a man, I now get why he supposedly wanted an “open marriage.” Holy crikey. That chick is scary! Hell hath no fury like a furry woman. That’s one angry, gangrenous ex-Gingrich chica right there, folks. Let’s see … what do we have here? Lonely and bitter? Table for one?

Now, before I get my inbox stuffed with hate mail labeling me insensitive, calling Newt a cad, and painting Marianne as a damsel in distress, let me state up front that … I know … he was … and oh, please.

Someone help me here. When did Marianne start giving a crap about Gingrich committing adultery? She didn’t mind his “open marriage” policy when she was doing the fig Newton with him while he was married to his first wife, Jackie. I’m sure if the Speaker’s initial esposa were still around she’d have some choice words to share about this duplicitous dame. Alas, she is not. But I imagine that Jackie is in heaven right now watching this sordid ABC tabloid smack screaming, “Hey, Jezebel! Go sell crazy somewhere else, devil bird!”

Yep, this is the same Marianne who was spooning Newt while his wife was in the hospital. Oh, I forgot. I’ve transgressed. I cannot blame Marianne for her adultery. Only guys, especially conservative guys, are the villains in an adulterous affair. Women, according to the lame stream media and the loons on the Left, are helpless victims who are not responsible for their wanton ways. Hallelujah. Ain’t that convenient?

Now, Newt, according to his own admission, was a scallywag. But also according to his own admission, he has repented. Is it BS? I don’t know. All I know is that when people verbally repent we’re supposed to forgive them. I believe that’s how the Jesus movie went. And it looked as if lots of South Carolinians were ready to forgive Gingrich judging from the standing ovation they gave him after he horsewhipped John King when he brought up Newt’s past peccadilloes.

Oh, and by the way, I believe according to Christ that if you look at a woman lustfully you’ve committed adultery in your heart in His holy estimation. In other words, we’re all guilty, and Jesus is the only one ever to navigate that tightrope successfully. As Dennis Miller once said, “He that hath an empty hand, let him throw the first stone.”

Boy, the Left is grasping at straws, aren’t they? They think they have breaking news about Newt’s randy ways. Uh, hello. This stuff has been out there and dealt with now for fifteen years. Fifteen years. As in One Five. But that’s just it: divert, divert, divert-talk about Newt 15 years ago rather than about what Obama has been doing for the last 15 months! Also, you do know that if Gingrich were a Democrat and we found out he just had a chunky female volunteer shine his apple on his election bus 15 hours ago that he’d be hailed as a rock star and defended for his wang dang ways.

This month a report surfaced of 3rd graders in Charlottesville, Virginia singing a song that the kiddos wrote (or so we were told) about being part of the 99% “Occupiers.” Here is a sample of the lyrics that the 9-year-olds supposedly drafted and then crooned for their comrades in class.

I used to be sad, now I’m satisfied
‘Cause I really have enough
Though I lost my yacht and plane
Didn’t need that extra stuff
Could have been much worse
You don’t need to be first
‘Cause I’ve got my friends
Here by my side
Don’t need it all
I’m so happy to be part of the 99

Question: What booger-eating, chunky, freckled public school 3rd grader (who has yet to master coloring within the lines of his coloring book and lives in a double-wide down by Rock Crick) has earned enough capital to have bought and lost a 60-foot Viking in landlocked Charlottesville? Answer: Uh, none.

In addition, I didn’t know 3rd graders were the playboy proprietors of Piaggio Avantis. Geez, where have I been?!

The good news is that when the parents of said kids found out their children were singing this socialistic slop-which praises the virtues of mediocrity-they wanted to know what Trotskyite was brainwashing their kids through song.

Upon inquiry, the school told the parents that their young ‘uns came up with this class warfare smack all by their lonesome. Matter of fact, the Albemarle County School Board Chairman, Stephen Koleszar, vigorously denied they were influenced at all by any outside source.

Well, Koleszar’s lies got shot to hell by the facts this week when Paul Reisler, the director of the group Kid Pan Alley, an outside musical company that “empowers kids through music,” confessed to messing with your child’s mind with Occupy overtones in their opera.

Note to offended parents and concerned citizens: You ought to call Stephen Koleszarand let him know you don’t appreciate that kind of refuse in the classroom. Be kind. But be firm. Don’t stoop to the level of the occupiers with their insane and inane vile verbosity.

Here’s another ditty for the progenitors of kids in public school: If I currently had children in public school, I would demand to read their textbooks, and I’d grill my bambinos every day to find out what kind of stuff they got sold before the final bell. I think you’d be shocked.

Oh, and teachers, if you don’t dig socialism and believe it’s a failed, enslaving economic nightmare, be sure to blow the whistle on any internal or external blowhards weaseling their way into our little ones’ noggins via the classroom. It’s just a suggestion.

Now, in the spirit of free enterprise, capitalism and American exceptionalism I say turnabout is fair play and that we should counter the communistic class warfare tunes turned out by the infiltrators of our children’s world by teaching our kids a song of opportunity and greatness instead of weakness and envy.

These Socialists Are Weird.

In my world, if a violent altercation occurs between two humans, the innocent assaulted party should live, and if anybody has to die or get critically wounded, it should be the sadistic perpetrator. Call me freaky.

To make certain this occurs, the innocent party has to be able to do one or two things when the crap hits the fan:

1. Open up a can of whup ass and immobilize the foul weed, thus sending him to the hospital.
2. Double-lung the loser with a hot dose of lead, thus sending him to hell.

Yes, the one being preyed upon has to be able to do the abovementioned because the quickest cop on the planet cannot respond fast enough to save your backside should things go violently south. You dig? Oh, I know … it will never happen to you.

Of the aforementioned, an 18-year-old Oklahoma teen mom, Sarah McKinley, selected option #2 this past week. McKinley, who had just lost her husband to lung cancer on Christmas Day, was home with her 3-month-old baby boy on New Year’s Eve when two dillweeds decided they were going to break into her casa. Good Sarah was having none of it. Are you paying attention, ladies? You are? Excellent.

McKinley, upon hearing and spotting one of the Darwinian holdovers wielding a 12-inch hunting knife, cordoned off her door with a couch, put a bottle in her kid’s mouth to keep him calm and then proceeded to the sweet place where her 12-gauge shotgun and handgun reside. Smart chick. I bet Jesus really likes her.

Upon arming herself, she called 911 to get a green light from dispatch to dispatch the two dipsticks of bad intent. Sarah is both polite and deadly-a two-fer, boys. Upon getting the nod from Nine One One, McKinley then dusted the knife wielder, and the other bandit fled the scene and was later arrested when Goofy called emergency to report his dead buddy.

This is the kind of story that we should read about more often; namely, the evil SOB is dead, and the innocent girl and her baby are alive, and all of this occurred because the femme fatale had the wherewithal and the knowledge to defend herself with a lethal weapon-also known as my friend, the gun.

Check it out, mamas: I guarantee that as she was sitting there alone with her tiny bambino on New Year’s Eve, Sarah probably thought that things couldn’t get any worse after losing her husband on Christmas Day. And yet things did get worse. But, thankfully, she was trained and had a gun. This dire situation ended well for her and hers all because of her wood and metal amigo … the gun.

How would you fare, my dear reader, if you were tossed in that same situation? Would the headline read the same as dear Sarah’s does, or would the perpetrator gain the upper hand because you can’t or won’t protect yourself, your brood and your castle?