My Trip to the Gas Station

I was called to sub first grade today and needed to stop at the gas station on the way. the needle was on red, a lifelong habit that used to bug my father, who wisely always told me...

"Gas costs the same whether you keep the tank empty or keep it full." 

Obviously he never took into account the extra miles I have "enjoyed" over the years with the strategy of coasting for a bonus quarter mile after the last combustible fume has been consumed. While no official log exists, I'm sure that if these quarter mile gas-less jaunts were stretched end-to-end, I have earned the equivalent of an extra road trip to the Mackinaw Bridge. The question plaguing me this morning was whether my ongoing fictitious coasting trip would inch me closer toward St. Ignace.

Arriving at the corner gas station, a mere couple of blocks from home without running out of fuel was a splendid surprise, and what I hoped to be a good omen of good fortune for the rest of the day. I pulled my high-mileage 12-year-old, dented, formerly white (but now trimmed in rust) Oldsmobile Intrigue neatly into the parking lot and nestled comfortably up to pump #8, oily black smoke spewing from the tailpipe as I shut it down.

I should mention here that my car gets really sucky gas mileage comparable to the M1 Abrams tank, but with less firepower. I adopted the habit of answering the question, "what kind of mileage does she get?" with a "gallons per mile".

Now, I like to have some chewing gum when I sub first grade to save chewing on my nails (or exposed necks of overly rambunctious 7-year-olds). I decided to go inside and prepay for the pack of gum and my gas... $30 bucks should do it.

Returning to my vehicle, I began to gas up. No sooner did I squeeze the handle when the pump went into super slo mo speed. Great! I don't really want to be late! I remember thinking that it would take a while to reach $30, when suddenly the pumped stopped. I looked at the display and it read exactly $3 dollars even.

I quickly discarded the possibility of a pump malfunction and instead assumed the cashier mistakenly dropped a zero and keyed in my $30 purchase as $3 when programming the pump. Just to verify, I pulled the crumbled receipt from my front pocket, sure I would see "Gum: $1.70, Gas: $30.00". But that's not what I saw at all. It read "...Gas: $3". 

My brain synapses went into super slo mo as I tried to mentally process the information. What could she have possibly been thinking selling me $3 worth of gas? Even if I had misspoke (which I didn't) shouldn't such a miniscule fuel purchase request spur an obligatory confirmation from even the dullest of cashiers? Granted, there are times when my appearance should lead one to question my ability to afford more than a $3 purchase, but I was wearing a crisp, white dress shirt, tie and dress pants. I HAD EVEN SHAVED!

My vehicle was clearly visible through the large picture glass window from the register, so it was obvious I was not buying gas for a gas can. Even so, I'm guessing most people who use a small one gallon can will usually slurge the extra 70 cents and fill the thing up.

The cashier lady sold me $3 worth of gas without blinking her vacant eyes once!

Maybe the better question isn't what was she thinking. Rather, what did she think I was thinking? Here were the only choices I could come up with.

A) Well, I know I just filled up at pump #1, but I have travelled several rotations of my tires since then, so I'd better top it off at #8 before I leave.

B) You are a keen and insightful cashier. Thank you for not questioning my miniscule fuel purchase, as you have no idea WHERE my desired destination lies. As a matter of fact, I'm only interested in rounding the corner and traveling a hundred acres or so. After that, who knows? I really don't like to plan that far ahead.

C) Let's see, I'd like a pack of gum... and... oh what the hell! Let me get 8 tenths of a gallon of your finest fuel while I'm at it! I deserve it!

I received my drivers license in 1977, a time when the average price of a gallon of regular unleaded gasoline was $.66. Back then, $3 would get you over 4 and a half gallons. This was a time when an individual didn't need to tally the value of the gas in the tanks of the idle vehicles in their driveway when computing net worth.

Beautiful First Grade Minds

as witnessed by the tired and frayed synapses of a 50 year old mind.

What a joy (and challenge) these children are. As a substitute fill-in who has only dipped his toe into these chaotic enthusiastic waters, I have nothing but respect and admiration for all teachers of our young.

First thing Monday was introductions. I told the little Chargers that my name is Mr. Carlson. I told them they could call me that, or they could call me Mr. Carlson-nuffaluffagus, Snuffy, or just plain 'ol "Mr. C".

This introduction sufficed when used with the third graders the previous week. For some reason, these weren't enough choices for first graders. Someone shouted out, "Can I call you Kermit?" (as I had delivered a very bad Kermit the frog impression as they entered the classroom.

"Sure," I answered.

Another student asked me who my favorite football team was. I was used to being asked questions seemingly off topic from third graders, so I told him it was the Detroit Lions.

Satisfied, he then told me he would call me "Mr. Lion". (and he did, without exception for the next two days).

The other children started shouting out their own recommended sub names simultaneously (made-up concoctions of unknown origins, other than from their fertile minds), so I told them, "you can call me anything you want, just don't call me late for dinner."

I knew when I told this joke that it would fly right over their little heads and that all I would get would be crickets. I was wrong. They laughed and giggled uproariously! Then it occurred to me that they didn't really care about the underlying humor of my statement - rather, just that I told them not to call me something nonsensical. In other words, I believe I would have received a similar response had I asked them not to call me... "Lord Chancellor of Neverland".

What I didn't count on was that half the class would address me as "Mr. Late For Dinner" for two straight days.

Holder responds to the Court's demand

Jay Carney, White House press secretary, in a heated exchange with reporters on Wednesday:
"(President Obama) certainly was not contending--that the Supreme Court doesn't have as its right and responsibility the ability to overturn laws passed by Congress as unconstitutional. He was a law professor! He has studied and taught the constitution, much like a safe-cracker studies bank vaults in order to better understand how to circumvent them. He didn't say "unprecedented", he said "un-presidented", as in "emasculated". Of course he knows about Marbury Vs Madison from 1803, the first case recognizing the Supreme Court's authority to strike down any law deemed unconstitutional.

President Obama:
Marbury Vs Madison gives those unelected group of people in black robes that kind of power? Let's make this easy then. I hereby issue an executive order mandating that the U.S. Supreme Court drop what it's doing and immediately overturn Marbury Vs Madison. That's buuullllsheeet."

Rightly concerned, The Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals demanded a three-page letter from the Department of Justice explaining if Obama knows they have rights to overturn federal laws, and today is "D-Day" at the DOJ.

In response to the 3-page letter request, Attorney General Holder has submitted a 2,700 page brief.

Justice Scalia: "You want the Court of Appeals to go through 2,700 pages?"

Nancy Pelosi: "You first have to submit it into the record to find out what's in it."

(page 1 excerpt from the DOJs 2,700-page response...)

To: The Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals
From: Eric "Fast and Furious" Holder

Dear Fifth Circuit,

You have the audacity to demand that I complete a homework assignment spelling out the Court's "rights"? Just who do you think you're talking to? I am an esteemed member of the Obama posse and our motto is, "If we get hit, we will punch back twice as hard".

Obama, peace be unto Him, is attempting to re-mold this country into a socialist utopia, starting with free health care. You court jester judges are getting in our way. Imagine no sickness and disease! It's easy if you try! Imagine no possessions. I wonder if you can? Nothing to work or strive for...
And no religious conscience too.

Better yet...
Imagine there no court Justices
It isn't hard for us to do
No Constitutional constraints or judicial taunts
No Justices, no piece de resistance
Imagine all the people mandated to live as one!

Ultimately, the president is confident that the Supreme Court will not take what would be an unprecedented, extraordinary step of overturning a law that was passed by a strong majority of a democratically elected Congress, albeit against the will of the American people.

Strangely, the rest of this 2,700 page document is a repetition of the following pangram:

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog
The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog
The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog
The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog
...

My trip to ALDI

First, let me just say to all the folks with steady work who refuse to sacrifice taste for a pocket full of Lincolns, there is a new playa in the "Miracle Whip vs Mayo" debate, and its name is Aldi's Whipped Salad Dressing. (yes,Lincolns=pennies). You hardly notice the difference when smothering your olive loaf baby! A wince is a wince.

But let me start at the beginning.

My wife asked me to pick up "a few things" at ALDI the other day while she was at work. I'm sure she assumed it was a benign request and that I would accomplish this seemingly simple task without drama, injury or blog fodder. She should know better by now.

While these requests have become rarer over the years, Mrs. DaBlade has learned that I don't do well with spoken lists. Apparently, a one gallon family-sized drum of Boston's Baked Beans can not be easily substituted for a 10.5 oz can of Campbell's Bean Soup. Therefore, as a concession to my verbal grocery list dyslexia, she now will text me a list of the items for easy retrieval, as I stand in the wrong aisle looking like a lost toddler at the zoo.



If only she had a cell phone.

So, it was with unwarranted confidence and naiveté that found me pulling into Aldis parking lot. What could go wrong, right?

The first thing I noticed was the absence of grocery carts strewn about the lot haphazardly and taking up available spaces. Fantastic! The last thing I need to worry about is for some pilotless and wind-powered grocery cart with a lazy wheel, sailing zigzag patterns across the lot only to crash into my 12-year-old, dented, formerly white (but now trimmed in rust) Oldsmobile Intrigue. I'm not sure it could handle the impact and retain it's already razor-thin margin of road viability, so one less thing.

I located the carts lined up next to the entrance and quickly discovered why there were no ghost ships sailing the lot harbor. The carts were chained together like so many prison workers being lined up for a leisurely afternoon of busting rocks. Spot on. This was absolutely the best visual I needed to begin my shopping experience.

This, from the ALDI website:

Part of the ALDI experience is enjoying all of the money-saving rituals that come with smarter shopping. ALDI regulars have come to find our easy-to-use shopping cart deposit system downright endearing, figuring that paying too much is a much greater inconvenience. With this system, we don’t have to assign an employee to round up carts in the parking lot, we don’t lose expensive carts, and you don’t have to worry about dings in your car doors from runaway carts.

Had I read this prior to my quest, I would have endearingly brought along a quarter to release the next cart in line (which I endearingly dubbed, "Kunta Kinte"), but instead, I just stood there with a perplexed look on my face while endearingly displaying my Hoover flags (out-turned and empty pockets).

Without the benefit of advanced research, I quickly understood that this store engaged in "money-saving rituals", and I was proud that I was saving a dime or two on my grocery bill at the expense of some young, part-time and minimum wage cart rounder-upper punk. With a shrug of the shoulders and upturned palms, I gave Kunta Kinte a sad look and proceeded into the store.

I was quickly relieved to learn that "money-saving rituals" did NOT include having to bring your own torch, lantern or flashlight, and that the store was aglow with the miracle of electric lighting. Such oppulence! I put away my lighter while thinking to myself, "you're gonna have to pay for this illuminence SOMEHOW mister!"

The next thing I noticed as I entered the store was a lack of directional choices. I felt like Duke Nukem in the original platform video game, as there was only one narrow aisle leading to the back of the store with no available deviations and pesky shortcuts to distract me. This was fine by me, because in order for a shortcut to be effective you need to know where you are supposed to end up. I knew I had to ultimately get to the Boss level (cashier), but first I had to "level up" (accumulate required goods). Well, as Duke would say, "It's time to kick ass and chew bubble gum. And I'm all out of gum."

I decided to check my wife's text message as I stood just inside the entrance, remembering only that it was a relatively short list. Hey, if the items can fit on my cell phone, I'm sure I won't need the luxury of a grocery cart, right?

Let's see, a gallon of milk... a box of spaghetti... a couple cans of mushroom soup... a can of coffee

...and some water.

Whoa! I was visualizing having to carry these items through the store as I read them off, and I wasn't concerned until I got to the end of the list. Water! Just my luck that I married a woman with an aversion to sulpher-tasting, arsenic-laden well water. Hmmm. Tying up one arm with a 24-case of water while balancing the other items in the other might be tricky.

I contemplated getting change from the cashier, going back outside and freeing Mr. Kinte after all. I discarded the notion, realizing this would necessitate negotiating the entire store maze twice. This is, after all, a lesson in economy of motion as well as minimizing the grocery bill. I looked at the 7-foot wall of product separating me from the cashier and briefly considered climbing over the puffy bags labeled "Chips of Potato" (apparently, generic brands are also money-saving rituals that are downright endearing to smart shoppers), but I had no idea what product was stacked on the other side. The layout so far made no ryhme-nor-reason to me, and I imagined the store manager interrogating me late into the evening, "Once again sir, please tell me how you ended up inside the lobster tank?"

Remembering that water is made up of hydrogen and oxygen molecules, both relatively light elements on the Periodic Table, I began my quest sans grocery cart. I forced myself to look at every display, as I had no idea where to find my items. Other stores foolishly hang expensive numbered signs above each aisle with a list of items found there. Such oppulence unnecessary for the smart shopper! Somebody is paying for those fancy lights and water fountains in Vegas, but it sho ain't us ALDI folk. I learned in past outings that these signs can give a false sense of security, as not every item available in the store is actually listed there. At least there would be no mental gymnastics on my part, having to categorize my list by "Animal, Vegetable or Mineral".

I made it to the end of the first row and caught a glimpse of an unshaven and disheveled gentleman with dark circles under his blood-stained eyes, stumbling along in a lost and unsteady gait, but then I realized I was looking at my own reflection in the glass door of the "Frozen Cream of Ice" section.

Moving on, I gathered up my items as I came across them, saving the case of water for last. I had the choice between "Spring Water" and "Filtered Water", and opted for the filtered. Not only was I saving a dime or so, but it wasn't clear from the labeling if the spring water was also filtered. Hey! Who needs beaver fever, am I right?

Grasping the milk jug by the handle with my left hand, I tucked the spaghetti and the cans of coffee and soups under that arm, then grabbed through the cutout plastic handhold of the water case with my right. As I trudged toward the Boss level suspending the water case, the individual bottles of water began to shift like a net full of monkeys caught in a snare net in an escape attempt. The .00001 mil rate of the plastic began to stretch and tear in a downright endearing fashion, as I counted my steps to the cashier, and what I thought was "home free".

I made it! I stacked my items on the conveyor, which I assumed was automated by a cashier-powered foot pedal. As she rang each item up, she placed them in a cart behind her and she gave me a look that said, "that cart stays right here buddy!" Then I looked along the wall. I haven't seen so many pajama-clad folks bagging items at a work table since the last time I was in a newspaper distribution center.

It was clear to me then that - since I didn't bring my own bags, boxes and/or fanny pacs from home - I would be making the long walk to my car. Kunta Kinte snickered at me all the way.

Pickled Peppers in a land called Honah Lee

BiteMe Biden botched a batch of bitter bogus boondoggles

Gaffe-prone Vice President Joe Biden has done it again, this time mistakenly thanking “Dr. Pepper” instead of a Dr. Paper during an afternoon speech at a factory in Davenport, Iowa.



Awesome Champ! Speaking for myself, I am really going to miss this guy.

And for you environmental wackos, this picture provides the answer to that age-old question, "Paper or Plastic... or Peppers?" When Obama puts on his hoodie and makes his way to the corner store for his monthly carton of smokes and large-winged feminine hygiene products for Michelle, he always chooses plastic.

Why Gas Costs Skyrocketing

A Philosophical Night With Sandra Fluke

Imagine you are an unattached Georgetown University male philosophy major and it's 2 minutes before 2AM, closing time at the local watering hole. The only females left in the bar are a table of women's rights activists. Think "Star Wars Cantina" bar scene. You decide to approach the only one at the table not sporting a mustache thicker than yours. While she's not exactly a beauty, the lighting is dim and you are wearing very expensive beer goggles.

Before you make your approach, you take out your wallet and are relieved to feel the circled indentation of a condom. You pop your collar and congratulate yourself for being responsible and ready to engage in casual and possibly consensual "safe sex". As you stagger towards the table, you recognize the identity of your target of lust. It's none other than Sandra Fluke.


She makes eye contact with you, reaches into her purse and thrusts a red ticket dispenser in your direction.

"Take a number," she orders.


What should you do?

As a philosophy student, you've wrestled with the most perplexing questions that have haunted man since the beginning of time. Does a tree falling in an empty forest make any noise? Does a bear truly defecate in these same woods? And now, possibly the greatest philosophical question in the modern day:

If a student can afford tuition to attend Georgetown University, how massive must be the quantity of sex to cause this same student to go broke buying contraceptives?

Wilt Chamberlain laid claim to having relations with 20,000 women during his NBA career. He stated that he once had 23 women in 10 days. Even at this rate, and considering the retail cost of contraception, Wilt couldn't have kept pace.

The solipsist might say pain is needed to appreciate pleasure, but surely he has never met Miss Fluke.

It's now 2AM, and bar patrons are being herded towards the door. If you are to proceed, you realize you will need to take extra precautions in order to satisfy your personal "safe sex" requirement. You tally the cost of these extra precautions in your head.

First, as the lights come on, you quickly realize you're going to need more beer.

Additional beer cost: $How much you got boy?

Next, you realize you would need something to do while waiting in line.

New Phone APP cost: $0.99

Hey, you believe her and you don't want to get lost!

spelunking equipment cost: $150

In case of spelunking equipment failure...

GPS wrist band locator: $1,350

This pocket condom ain't gonna cut it with this chick.

These suits can cost anywhere from $4,000 - $10,000 each, and may need to be disposed of after one use, depending upon what they were exposed to and how contaminated they are.

Cost of going back to your dorm room alone to listen to the latest Rush Limbaugh podcast:
Priceless.

History teaches us that THE OBAMIAN PERSECUTIONS will backfire

I ran across this article on ancient Rome's DECIAN PERSECUTIONS (on pbs.org of all places) and was struck by the raw similarities to what President Obama is doing with this HHS mandate. See if you can spot them.

It is the middle of the 3rd century and the Roman Empire is in great crisis, and Emperor Decius is "under great pressure". There exists:
* sheer corruption in the aristocracy, from the Emperor down.
* There is a sense that we are being besieged on the borders, that the barbarians may be coming in at any moment.
* the Persians are dangerous.
* the Germans are dangerous.
* There's a great sense that anything that upsets this ancient contract between the Romans and the gods has got to be dangerous to (their power).

and with a slight re-write to conform to today's reality, we get...

It is the beginning of third millennium and the United States is in great crisis, and Emperor President Obama is "under great pressure". There exists:
* sheer corruption in his administration, from Obama down - from the democrat schemes that collapsed the housing market and have brought this country to it's knees; the Solyndra bankruptcy and an avalanche of other ongoing green subsidy scams; the Fast and Furious gun scandal that cost the life of a border patrol agent; the GM and car company takeovers; to governing against the will of the American people by jamming an unwanted socialized medicine health bill down their throats - to name a few.
* There is a sense that we are being besieged on the borders, and the fear that Republicans may actually try to secure the borders and stop the flow of these future democrat voters.
* the Persians are close to developing nuclear weapons to be used for their stated goal of wiping Israel off the map.
* the imminent European economic collapse is dangerous.
* There's a great sense that anything that upsets this ancient contract between the Romans democrats and the gods unions has got to be dangerous to their power.

So what does Obama do? Well, what did Emperor Decius do?

(In) the year 250, the Emperor Decius decides that Christians are a real enemy of the Roman order, that they must be dealt with empire-wide, with all the police power that the emperor can bring to bear upon them. And he issues a decree that everyone has to sacrifice to the Roman gods and they must produce a certificate signed by a Roman official that they have done so.

Sounds like the HHS mandate against the Catholic church to me, and so the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops spoke out.

So, the Romans bring to bear all the power they have at their disposal. They say, "All right, let's hit the leaders. Let's find these bishops and bring them into court and force them to recant, and if they won't, we'll eliminate them... And so you have bishops fleeing to the countryside and you have others being martyred. You have ordinary people, for the first time, being rounded up, forced to sacrifice, or if they can buy a forged certificate of of sacrifice. There's some of those which have actually survived.

"And the odd thing is it fails...."

And so will Obama.

The net effect of this is that a new cult of the martyrs appears in Christianity, which strengthens the the church, which feeds on anti-government sentiment in many segments of the empire, - those remote geographical areas distant from Rome which have always been suspicious of Rome. This simply brings those into the Christian fold and in many ways, it backfires. So the Decian persecution is very short-lived....

Let us pray that the Obamian Persecution is short-lived as well.

My Daily Haiku with my Barbie collection

I call this one...
"Lather rinse and repeat":

Life is rock and roll
Sisyphus Vesuvius
Pyroclastic flow

Discuss.

If you're like me, you are a middle-aged male who likes to discuss politics and pop culture with his collection of Barbies. They all come from a diverse background of varying plastic-based vinyl molds, so it's usually a lively debate. As I tell them repeatedly, it doesn't matter the size of your colorful wardrobe or the value of your accessories, especially when you're at the bottom of a pitch black sock drawer.

So I lined them up on the window sill this morning and read them my Haiku.

At first, they just sat there in stunned silence, staring back at me through souless, painted eyes.


Pictured (left to right): My 1959 original Barbie, S&M Barbie, Earring Magic Ken and my tattoed-up Tokidoki

I take another pull from my brown bag as I wait, and the silence is finally broken.

Ken: I think it means that life is awesome. You know... sex, drugs and high-energy rock and roll!

Tokidoki: Since Haikus are Japanese poetry and I am the only Japanese inspired doll, I think I am the most qualified here to do the interpretation.

Ken: OK. And?

Tokidoki: (pause) I got syphlis once from a tat needle.

S&M Barbie: He said "Sisyphus", not "syphlis" ho.

1959 original Barbie: If I remember my Greek Mythology correctly, Sisyphus was a king who ticked off the gods, so his punishment involved having to roll a large boulder up a hill only to watch it roll back down, and to repeat this throughout eternity.

Ken: I didn't study Geek Monopoly, but I would think being named Sisyphus was punishment enough. At least he wasn't forced to listen to Miley Cyris' "The Climb" in a continuous loop on his iPod. Not even the gods could be that cruel.

S&M Barbie: Hey! I like that song!

Ken: Try Boston's "Satisfied" instead. (starts to sing) "You gotta have a little rock 'n' roll music to get you through the stormy weather... cuz Win or lose, it's alright... nothin's gonna help you more than rock and roll."

1959 original Barbie: Be quiet and learn something. In 1942, a gentleman by the name of Albert Camus had a philosophical essay published titled, "The Myth of Sisyphus." In it, Camus argues that Sisyphus symbolizes "man's futile search for meaning" and concludes with this: "The struggle itself...is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy."

Tokidoki: So basically Hannah Montana had it about right. It is the climb.



Ken: Talk about a "man's futile search". At least Sisyphus wasn't unemployed in the Obama economy. Maybe that's where the volcano in the Haiku comes in.

I hear a car pull into the driveway. "Back in the sock drawer people!"

The Secular Grinch

He HADN'T stopped Tebow from Tebowing! IT CAME!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!

It came without ribbons! It came without tags!
It came without packages, boxes, or bags!



He puzzled and puzzed till his puzzler was sore. Then the secular Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. Maybe Tebowing, he thought... doesn't come from a score. Maybe Tebowing, perhaps... means a little bit more!

Woman hit with tacos during argument in Flint

Think outside the pun

FLINT, Michigan — A woman was struck with tacos Thursday after getting into an argument with her child's father in Flint, according to a police report.

The woman called police around 4 p.m. after the man began arguing with her while they sat inside her vehicle outside a residence.

During the argument, the man threw tacos at the woman before taking her black purse and exiting the vehicle. The man then allegedly grabbed a brick and threw it through the driver's side window before fleeing to an unknown location.

The Flying Taco
All I have to say is "FOOD FIGHT!!!" I thought tomorrow was "Taco Tuesday"?

Somehow, I don't think that throwing Tacos would slow down a charging Michael Moore, Flint's most famous native son.

Great comments from fellow Flintoids!

"When they take this taco from my cold dead hand!"
When they outlaw tacos, only criminals will have tacos.

Hopefully they were soft tacos

Lettuce get to the meat of the matter here...

Never bring a taco to a chalupa fight.

Children of the Corn

In an attempt to shrug off his expected poor showing in today's Hawkeye Cauci, Republican Presidential hopeful Jon Huntsman was quoted last week as saying, "They pick corn in Iowa."

Armed with a disposable cell phone and an Iowa phone directory, I decided to put his allegations to the test.

Shock Mock Poll Results:
When Iowans were given a choice between A random generic ear of corn or Jon Huntsman, they "picked corn" 5 to 1. Huntsman was also outpaced by write-in candidates, an arrogant carrot and punch-drunk bunch of grapes.



In a retraction attempt, Huntsman tries a final appeal to Iowans:

"Corn is the fruit of the sea... err, I mean vegetable of the fields. You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it. Dey's uh, corn muffins, corn bread, corn-kabobs, corn creole, corn gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried creamed corn. There's corn casserole, corn salad, corn holios, pepper corn, corn soup, corn stew, corn and potatoes, corn pancakes, corn mash. That- that's about it."

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

For 2,000+ years in a row...


Merry Christmas!

Endorsement Alert! Newt Gingrich's coat button

It stands the best chance of taking out Obama.

Radioactive Metal from Iran

This is not what I mean by "radioactive metal"...
Pictured: "Ayatollah Ali 'ZZ Top' Khamenei", supreme leader and lead guitarist - and Mockmood "straggle beard" Ahkmadeenadude, lead singer and president of the band The Hidden Imams.

I read a lot of fiction and have an overactive imagination, so when I read a news blurb about Russian customs agents at Moscow's main airport seizing an Iranian attempting to smuggle radioactive material disguised as pencils onto a flight to Tehran, my "Uh-oh geiger counter" starts to spin.

Highlight quotes from the article:

* It was not immediately clear if the substance could be any use to Iran's controversial nuclear program.

* The pieces contained Sodium-22, she said, a radioactive isotope of sodium that could be produced in a particle accelerator.

* Kelly Classic, a health physicist at the United States' renowned Mayo Clinic, said: "You can't make a nuclear bomb or dirty bomb with it."

* Another expert, Michael Unterweger, group leader for the radioactivity group at the U.S. National Institute of Standards and Technology, said it can be used as a calibration source for radiation instrumentation.

Unterweger said "it's really strange" that so much Sodium 22 was in the luggage, but if he were the Russian authorities "I wouldn't worry about it."

An Iranian caught trying to smuggle a suitcase full of radioactive materials DISGUISED as pencils into Tehran, and we should assume it's purpose is innocuous and not worry about it? I believe Mr. Unterweger will immediately draw Obama's interest for the newly created position of Iranian Apologist Czar. What a doofus!

Listen, I'm sure it comes as no surprise that I have no idea what Sodium-22 is, or what the Iranians were intending to use this for, but I will most certainly worry about it. I will, however, go out on an olive branch limb and assume this material is not bound for a really busy Iranian dentist in need of a warehouse full of calibration equipment. Give me a break!

Using my imagination and wild speculation, could this sodium-22 stuff be used for the purpose of throwing off nuclear forensics AFTER an explosion??

Nuclear forensics, the analysis of nuclear materials recovered from either the capture of unused materials, or from the radioactive debris following a nuclear explosion, can contribute significantly to the identification of the sources of the materials and the industrial processes
used to obtain them. In the case of an explosion, nuclear forensics can also reconstruct key features of the nuclear device.

In other words, instead of launching a nuclear weapon at Israel from their homeland and guaranteeing a devastating response, could Iran smuggle a nuclear truck bomb into Tel Aviv and somehow cover their "footprints" by using this Sodium stuff and maybe frame Russia as the plutonium source?

Instead of hand-wringing apologists assuming the best intentions of the terrorist Iranian regime and president Mockmood Ahkmadeenadude, we need to face the hard reality that they are building nuclear weapons and will use them on Israel AND US just as soon as they are ready. He has stated as much.