Another Cluster*%#@ brought to you by Barry Obama:

For those of you who believe in the benevolence of our dear leader(s), get a load of this bend over and grab your ankles waste of taxpayer money brought to you by Obamanation. A tid bit from the article:

Here's how it works: If you're eligible, the government will pay to weatherstrip your doors, insulate your walls and ceilings, fix your windows and, in some cases, buy you a new refrigerator and heating system -- all for free. You just have to sign up with a local community-action group (bold - mine...ACORN anyone?), which will send over workers to do the repairs.
It's proving a rip-off -- the government is spending a fortune for each household that benefits. A quarter of the money is squandered on a vast bureaucracy of regulatory field staff, administrators and training (imagine that?). Also inflating the costs are prevailing-wage mandates and provisions that encourage states to spend the most money on the fewest homes. With $400 million, New York state intends to repair 45,000 units, or nearly $9,000 a home.

Of course, lefties everywhere will opine that this Titanic waste of taxpayer's money - is a good thing because Bush lied and people died, Bush wiretapped people (Of course Bammy is still doing it, but it's OK now), Katrina, etc, etc!

Idiots!

Read the whole nauseating thing here.

Boy, it sure is bright out here...

I haven't blogged for a while now. It seems I experienced a raging case of information overload. One day I just shut off the tube, the computer, the phone and the lights and crawled into the broom closet. There I assumed the fetal position and stayed that way for 2 weeks, taking only intravenous feedings. Looking back, Id say the tipping point was the whole Gates affair. When highly regarded (and paid) black men, men of great fortune I might add, morph into ghetto banging, head wagging victim mongers, its time to go comatose. So, there in my closet, which strangely resembles my house in shape, size and comfort, I gave up on the blitzkrieg of elitists talking heads groveling before the king...that is, until I stopped drooling and was able to feed myself. Which, in reality, took about two hours.

Actually, I took advantage of a few much needed business opportunities and, just to spice up life a bit, added two daughters, one son in law, a granddaughter, three cats and a dog to the mix in the Three Ball Dead household. So, I've been doing the family thing: meals (the S.I.L. can cook!), picking up, dropping off, going to church with the whole family....wow. Mr's TBD and I had been an island of two for some time; hence, going from library quiet to Grand Central Station loud has taken some adjusting to...to say the least. But it's a glorious time to be alive; and so it could be said that living life took me away from the blogosphere. As an aside, while I convalesced, I think I downloaded the entire Beatles catalogue to my IPOD (or is that uploaded?). I played the lads at high decibels too: It was a yeah, yeah, yeahfest all throughout the house for days...and all at the expense of (or more aptly for the benefit of) my high school aged daughter and her shaggy boy friend. Lord knows they need some music education...know what I'm saying dog?

But one can't hide from the world forever; and as Barry continues his relentless push to cloth us in those drab Soviet pajamas while waiting for our hip replacements, and to force us into those Not So Smart Cars, I had to suck it up and get back in the game. There's corrupt, hypocritical, sniveling, elitists, limp wristed (think Barry's All Star Game first pitch), Marxist bureaucrats to rant and rave about. There's freedom to defend, legs to break and minds to change. With some of the Obmatrons I've met, the leg breaking option has far more appeal. Their minds are too far gone for them to be of any use...they may as well limp in pain as they line up to bow before the One. Hi Ho.

Big ears and bigger mouth

So the dumbo in chief is having a beer in the rose garden with his racist friend and the man his racist friend accused of a being a racist. Blacks always say that they cannot be racist because whites have the power. While that is a dodge lets assume their viewpoint. Who is more powerful than the president of the U.S. ? He took up the side of his friend supposedly without knowing the facts and called the friend's arresting officer , performing the duty he was intrusted with doing, acting "stupidly". While I have no doubt that Obama is a racist and that his professor friend is one also, I do not believe that the officer in question is a candidate for this label. He was sent on this call by his "black " superior because of his being a instructor in racial sensitivity. Upon arriving at scene and attempting to do his job in a cordial manner he was subjected to a lowbrow assault by a highbrow professor. And after great forbearance arrested the professor for causing a disturbance. The professor was warned repeatedly before the arrest. I, myself, would have tased his dumb ass. However I am not deceived by the president's reaction. This was not about his friend's arrest. Obama was attempting to use the race card to elevate his sagging poll numbers. It backfired in a big way. Hence the beer in the rose garden. Drink up Dumbo.

Nobody nukes Obamanation like VDH!

Victor Davis Hanson should be mandatory reading for the minded numbed masses of Obama voters who still cling to the idiotic notion that any of this Bolshevik crap is going to work.

From his excellent work:


Americans are waking up to the fact that their president says, promises, and does things that simply do not make sense, at odds with what they know of human physics — with the predictable nature of the way humans have conducted themselves for centuries: Borrowing is debt, not “stimulus”; serial apologies soon sound insincere or become counterproductive; blaming someone else becomes tiresome; scapegoating leads nowhere; taking responsibility for failure is as necessary as being praised for success; people can be fooled only so many times by sonorous, ego-laced rhetoric.

Read the whole thing here.

Philanderers, serial killers and bad drivers oh my!

It doesn't come as trippingly off the tongue as lions, tigers and bears, but it does describe the current situation in the Palmetto state. Hell, Oz couldn't be much stranger than our little state. And yes, I included "bad drivers" in my unholy paean to Dorothy and the crew; mostly to fill out the bill, and partly because, if you've had the pleasure to visit our beautiful little corner of the world by auto, you probably noticed the precipitous decline in driving IQ the moment you crossed the border. There's granny in the passing lane doing 50, and frickin' Richard Petty passing her on the right, shooting the finger and questioning her lineage. But I digress.

What more can be said of our love struck governor? You know, he of the sophomoric email composed along the Argentinian trail. Mark Sanford may not be Edward the VIII and Maria Chapur may (or may not be) be foxier than Wallis Simpson , but Three Ball Dead believes that Markie boy is likely to spread on a little Clearasil and bolt for South America: giving up the governorship, the run for prez and his beleaguered wife's tool money. Nobody ever accused us Carolinians of great judgemental abilities. See the beginning of the Civil War.

And finally, a serial killer stalks the fine people of Gaffney (which down here could be a guy named Bubba with a Glock, going through a messy divorce that ends with the beleaguered wife - see above -getting custody of the F150). So far he's randomly killed 5 seemingly unrelated people in this town of 10,000. As we go to press, word has it that Gaston County NC police (twenty miles north of Gaffney) killed a man this morning during a burglary attempt. The man apparently matches the description of the killer...and so does his vehicle. Too bad a Gaffneyian with good aim didn't get the opportunity to clip this hump.

Many thanks to my compatriots for commenting while I vacated this past week. Meanwhile, I return completely unrested and, in fact, on the very verge of exhaustion. Here's to my Vera Wang mattress and the friendly confines of home sweet home.