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Thursday, July 31, 2003
Farewell, Clubbeaux, we hardly knew ye

One of my favorite bloggers is tossing in the keyboard. David Sims of Clubbeaux is moving to Turkey to run a coffee shop on a bluff overlooking a beach. Dirty job, but I suppose someone's got to do it. Clubbeaux posted some of the most thought provoking (and argument provoking) pieces on the web. I always found his pieces well thought out, superbly crafted, and the central arguments highly defensible. This is not a fella who talks out of his ass, as we like to say here in the Deep South.

Safe trip, David. If you ever decide to come back, I'll be among the first to link you. You say if we ever make it to Antalya, the coffee's on you. You ever get to New Orleans, the crawfish and beer's on me.

Friday, July 25, 2003
History is Written by the Whiners

No, that's not a typo. In fact, it is the central premise of Ann Coulter's new book Treason: Liberal Treachery From the Cold War to the War on Terrorism.

In this book, Coulter attacks many liberal-created myths that the rest of us have come to accept as fact due to sheer repetition of lies in the press. She spends a lot of time deconstructing the myth of "McCarthyism" by examining actual text of the Senate hearings and explaining Sen. McCarthy's true mission: to root out Soviet spies in the U.S. government. Even though it's "common knowledge" that McCarthy ruined the lives of countless innocent Hollywood writers through the merciless inquisition of the House UnAmerican Activities Committee (HUAC), Coulter explodes this fallacy with two simple facts: 1) McCarthy was a Senator, the first word in HUAC is House, ergo, there is no way he could have participated in their hearings, and 2) HUAC's notoriety culminated with the perjury convictions of the "Hollywood Ten" in 1947, three years before Senator McCarthy would hold his hearings on paid Soviet agents in government and Armed Forces, most notably the State Department. Oh, and one more thing:

McCarthy was right.

Declassified Soviet cables and American intercepts of Soviet cables during the period proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that our State Department was riddled with paid Soviet spies. What was McCarthy's reward for trying to protect our country from the Communist threat? He was vilified in the press and in Congress and died a broken man at the age of 48, his name forever associated with fascistic oppression.

Coulter goes on to cover liberal treason during the Vietnam era (need I elaborate?) and takes us into present-day traitorous acts by our liberal politicians and public figures. She exposes the blame-America-first crowd for what they really are: spoiled children who loathe the very country that gives them the freedom to make seditious condemnations of the most free country on earth. I give you my favorite quote of the book, which lambasts Al Gore for positing that the WTC attacks of September 11, 2001, are our own fault, because we have not done enough to make the rest of the world "like us."

Gore said foreigners are not worried about "what the terrorist networks are going to do, but about what we're going to do." Good. They should be worried. They hate us? We hate them. Americans don't want Islamic fanatics to love us. We want to make them die... Japanese kamikaze pilots hated us once, too. A couple of well-aimed nuclear weapons got their attention. Now they are gentle little lambs.

Preach on, Sister Coulter. Run out and get the book NOW.

Wednesday, July 23, 2003
I'm Still Waiting for the Tears to Form

So, it appears that Uday and Qusay Hussein are dead. It's about time. My only problem with the whole affair is that our troops were not allowed to drag the bodies outside and piss on them. Which just goes to show how unconcerned politicians are with benefits for our fighting boys. Some things never change.

Am I celebrating the violent killing of four human beings? That's a big "roger." Many Iraqis who were tortured by these two or had to stand by and watch while their families were tortured and murdered will feel at least some sense of relief and closure knowing that these two can't hurt anyone anymore.

The only person I do feel sorry for in this business is Steve H. of Little Tiny Lies. He's gotten a lot of mileage out of the Hussein family in his comedy writing, and mean old Uncle Sam just deprived him of at least a couple more months of material. I have some advice for Steve: start brushing up on your knowledge of Kim Jong Il. He is a comedy writer's wonderland.

Think about it, man! A five-foot Korean dictator with a six-inch high Elvis bouffant hairdo who kidnaps actresses and directors because he is a frustrated filmmaker, has a penchant for Swedish prostitutes and drinks like Ted Kennedy. He is Hennessy Cognac's single biggest customer IN THE WORLD. This is Steve's chance to get in on the ground floor before we erase North Korea from the world map and every kid on the block is wearing a "Pyongyang Pete" t-shirt that they bought at Repatriate. I'm throwing down the gauntlet, Steve.

Dare ya to pick it up.

Tuesday, July 22, 2003
Repatriate Salutes Our Grunts in Iraq

And everywhere else, for that matter.
I was unpacking some boxes the other day and came across my Basic Rifle Marksmanship scorebook from Army Basic Training. I kept it because there is a poem on the back cover that always made me feel better about being an infantry grunt (or Bullet Catcher, as we used to call ourselves).

Hardly a day goes by without one of our boys getting ambushed and shot in Iraq, prompting many to ask what they're still doing there. THIS is why they're there - and why boys like this are our nation's most valuable resource.

The Man With the Rifle

Men may argue on what wins their wars
And welter in cons and pros
And seek their answers at history's doors
But the Man With the Rifle Knows

He must stand on the ground on his own two feet
And he's never in doubt when it's now
If it's won, he's there; if he's not, it's defeat
That's his test, when the fighting is done.

When he carries the fight, It's not with a roar
And Armored wings spitting death
He creeps and crawls on the earthen floor
Butt down holding his breath.

Saving his strength for the last low rush
Grenade throw and bayonet thrust
And the whispered prayer, before he goes in
Of a man who does what he must.

And when attacked, he can't zoom away
When the shells fill the world with their sound
He stays where he is, loosens his spade
And digs his defense in the ground.

That ground isn't ours till he's there in the flesh
Not a gadget or a bomb, but a Man
He's the answer to theories which start afresh
With each peace since war began.

So let the wild circle of argument range
On what wins, as war comes and goes
Many new theories may hold the stage
But the Man With the Rifle knows.

Thank you all: soldiers, sailors, Marines and airmen. Get home safe...

Thursday, July 17, 2003
Reports of My Demise Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

To paraphrase Mark Twain, I'm still around. It has been a hectic month with the move back to New Orleans, buying a house, getting reassigned at work, etc. Plus, my computer is still in Canada (I'm blogging from work early). I'm having a new computer put together by my brother-in-law right now and expect to be up and running shortly.

Thank you all for continuing to stop by and I promise to kick back off with another Coon-Ass Book Report. I've been reading Ann Coulter's new book Treason and it is good.

Talk to you soon..