For the past several weeks I have been receiving notices from my Marine brothers, alerting me to the airing of an HBO production entitled Taking Chance. It's first scheduled showing was Saturday evening, Feb. 21, 2009.

The film documents the true story of the journey of Marine Lt. Col. Michael Strobl who volunteered to escort the body of 19-year-old Marine Pfc. Chance Phelps who was killed in Iraq on April 9, 2004, home to Wyoming for burial.

The word was that Hollywood was finally about to get it right on a modern day war film.

Among my Marine brothers there has been little if any enthusiasm for the bulk of work that has come from Hollywood since the Vietnam War. There were some notable exceptions such as the television series Tour of Duty, and Mel Gibson's movie We Were Soldiers, about the 7th Cavalry's fierce yet successful battle in the Ia Drang Valley, Vietnam, in 1965.

But there have been so many movies about the military in the last 30 years, with so many of them pure rubbish, that most of my veteran friends from that era have long since despaired of ever seeing a true representation of who we are, what we do, and why. I realize that there were actors and directors who tried to get it right - Gene Hackman, Patrick Swayze, and Robert Stack - all of whom were in the POW movie Uncommon Valor come easily to mind.

But the bulk of Hollywood's efforts have been little more than a steady flow of sewage - anti-military, anti-American propaganda.

So you'll have to excuse me if I was just a tad skeptical, and took a hold-my-breath attitude. Nonetheless, the film was about Marines, and the previews looked good, so I sat down with my daughter and watched it.

My friends were right. Kevin Bacon, whose work has been eminently enjoyable going all the way back to Animal House, and including such "fun" films as Tremors, delivered one of the best performances of his career in portraying Lt. Col. Strobl. It was far easier to watch him, and his role was far more believable with this portrayal, than with the heavily political A Few Good Men back in 1992.

In essence, the film relates how Strobl, a decorated veteran of Operation Desert Storm, The Gulf War, is dealing with a form of guilt brought on by his near-permanent desk job as a Pentagon analyst, while so many other one-tour as well as career Marines are serving multiple combat tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Strobl ultimately volunteers to escort Phelps' body back home for burial, initially because he believes that he and Phelps came from the same hometown in Colorado. It turns out that Phelps actually was born in Wyoming, but enlisted in Colorado, so Strobl's journey goes much further, with stops as far north as Montana before the final leg of the journey.

I was more than a little bit pleased to see that other than a few passing notices such as a newspaper headline, and a conversation with a young hearse driver who wanted to contribute but didn't understand why we were in Iraq, the political ramifications of the past 8 years did not sully this film.

Actually, Taking Chance was as much about the people of middle America, as it was about the fallen Marine or his escort. And it definitely showcases the care, concern for detail, and even tenderness, with which America's fallen military personal are treated all the way from the battlefield to the giant morgue in Dover, Delaware where their bodies and personal effects are prepared for burial.

Strobl kept a journal of his travel, from which the screenplay is derived, and it is full of notations of the small, but ever so meaningful gestures from everyday Americans. An airlines ticket agent upgrading Strobl to first class, a flight attendant giving him a crucifix, baggage handlers and deplaning passengers stopping in reverence as the casket is moved from plane to plane, with Strobl rendering honors at each stop.

My favorite scene was on the way from Montana to Wyoming, as a convoy of vehicles, carrying everyday Americans who just happened to be going the same way, lined up with the hearse carrying Phelps' body, all with their lights on. Strobl, driving directly behind the hearse suddenly finds himself with a large and caring entourage.

I told my daughter that I had witnessed such a phenomenon a few times previously, and even was part of one such procession when I went to Memphis two decades ago to attend the funeral of a friend and mentor from my days in Vietnam.

But while such respect for fallen members of our nation's military is common in the south and west, it is nearly unheard of here in the Northeast. In this part of the country the elitist and entitlement mindsets are so ingrained in the culture that a simple gesture of public respect isn't even considered, much less rendered.

I have read that the attendance at Phelps' funeral was greater than the population of Dubois - that's Due Boy - Wyoming, which had slightly fewer than 1,000 residents as of the 2000 census. That in itself tells us about the priorities of many Americans who don't spend their lives making asses of themselves to garner a few headlines.

I was happy to see that Taking Chance gave considerable positive credit to the Veterans of Foreign Wars and the Marine Corps League organizations, both of which were showcased in the latter portion of the film. It even gave us a positive portrayal of a Vietnam veteran, Chance Phelps' father, who places his Vietnam Service and Vietnam Campaign medals on his son's coffin.

All in all, HBO, Kevin Bacon, a large and competent supporting cast, and Michael Strobl himself, did in this one film what should have and could have been done for two generations of American veterans - but more often was not.

I suppose it is too much to hope for that maybe, just maybe, someone in Hollywoodland will see this film and realize that it represents what exists in a place called America, where there are real heroes, living and dead, doing the right thing for no other reason than it is the right thing to do.

The news sloooowly seeped out Thursday that sometime on Tuesday a "defunct" Russian military satellite had crashed into a US communications satellite over Siberia smashing both to smithereens.

Accidental. Right. Sheer chance.

In the vastness of space, with all the billions of potential orbits, ranging from 50 or 60 miles above earth's surface to hundreds of miles above earth's surface, these two just happened to bump into each other.

Over the arctic. Over the Russian arctic to be more specific. Over Siberia to be be exact. At 18,000 miles per hour. Kaaaablooooey!

The US satellite was owned, according to news reports, by Iridium Satellite LLC. The news says Iridium provides voice and data communications services to a smallish network of some 300,000 customers in far flung places of the world.

But a picture of one of those customers on the Products page of Iridium's website shows a military man, purportedly a US military man, in a very dusty environment, in full combat gear, making use of Iridium's data and voice communications facilities.

Uh-huh.

So, what was Russia hiding out there in the Siberian wilderness that they didn't want us to know about? Siberia - that frozen wasteland that is only a few miles from Alaska depending on where you are standing. How many customers does Iridium have in Siberia, and what exactly are they doing?

Hey, don't bust my chops about these questions. Don't think for a minute that the Russians aren't already asking the same questions. They aren't stupid you know. And Siberia is still Russia the last time I looked.

So who do we have there? Or near there? And what are they doing?

Has anyone seen Vladimir Rasputin lately? Last I knew he was shooting tigers, invading countries that were formerly coerced to be part of the defunct USSR, and harassing Europe by turning the natural gas spigot off and on during the coldest part of the winter.

But what has he really been up to?

Did you happen to note that little comment I made the other day in the article I wrote about this bogus "economic stimulus" bill that The Prez Obama is trying to push off on the American public? I called it a diversion, a distraction.

Looks like I was right doesn't it? Because the news about bumper satellites has really, really been downplayed while the papers, Internet and airwaves are chock full of political news.

A spokesman said this is all very innocent. We have to forget the Big Sky concept, the official said, meaning everyone no longer thinks space is a final frontier. There just isn't enough room out there for everything that has been launched into space since Sputnik went up on October 4, 1957, according to this line of reasoning.

Well, excuse me for a minute won't you while we look just a bit closer. There are approximately 18,000 man-made objects orbiting around us at any one time. But if all those objects were in orbit over the Earth's equator, at exactly the same altitude, right down to the inch, there would still be approximately 1.4 miles between each of them.

Lots of room to avoid collisions. Lots. But remember, they all aren't over the equator, there are billions of other places they could be, at widely differing altitudes, and there is virtually no reason for any of them to "accidentally" bump into each other.

Oh, the military also is claiming there are too many satellites and other objects in orbit over the earth - remember 18,000 of them - to keep track of them all! So, no one saw this collision coming!

Really? Well, Mr. Misinformation Master, how many damn airplanes are over the US at peak moments on any given day?

How about Europe? South America? I see. Quite a few more than 18,000, with much less room to maneuver in, and yet, we rarely have mid-air collisions. So we can do flight tracking for dozens of private Piper Aircraft flying over the Everglades, the heart land, the Northeast, Southeast, Southwest, Pacific Coast, Mexico, Canada, and God knows where else, while thousands of commercial flights are buzzing between major cities here and around the world, but not for satellites in known orbits?

Iridium's website has another tab that says you can send a satellite message. I have one they should sent to all the rest of their satellites.

The Russians are coming! The Russians are coming! Look out! Duck! Run! Hide!

And I'm not kidding about that.

The screaming headlines and urgent sound bites declaring that Congress has to pass an "economic stimulus" bill right this second or the world will collapse into an eon of darkness and chaos reminds me way too much of slick sales tactics used to put something over on unwary buyers.

For example: A couple of decades ago a close associate was being pressured into buying a car. He said the salesman was a really good guy who was always really nice to him and wouldn't screw him over. He was sure of it.

I didn't like the rush job the salesman was putting on my associate, and said so. I was accused of being over-protective. So I said, "Tell him no. Then see what kind of reaction you get."

My associate reluctantly did as I suggested. The salesman turned into an ogre. My associate looked elsewhere and ultimately got a better car at a better price and drove it for quite a few years before moving on.

I now would like to suggest that since Congress is very nearly listening to the American public - a composite aggregation of the entire 300 million of us which every single politician in Washington claims to have a direct line to - the three turncoat Republicans who are helping foist this fiasco on us should stop for just a moment and say "No."

The Obama Administration is acting like an unscrupulous car salesman, trying to hustle the public into accepting this package without even looking under the hood. Obama and his minions are praising them, but let's see what happens if they say no, just to see the reaction.

Senators Snowe, Collins and Specter are selling out the Republican Party, hoping that in their apparently too-Democratic leaning states they will have more goodwill than animosity from voters who in a few years might forget how they voted.

These three turncoats claim that the "stimulus" bill is necessary and they are on their guard to catch any programs that won't really help the economy.

Well, based on the news coming out so far, this package is loaded with junk that won't help the economy. There is so much social engineering money in this bill - intended to change the political and financial landscape of the entire country - that it could run many third world countries for decades.

We have heard that there is money to redirect medical funding for the elderly - permitting the government to decide who will get what kind of treatment, and ultimately, who will live and who will die.

But I was told just recently that there also is money in this bill to implant sensors in school children, or at least their backpacks, so Big Brother Obama can know in an instant where they are. This will be especially helpful if the "stimulus" bill contains enough money to "stimulate" his plans to create a national police force, equal in size, equipment and funding to the American military.

This will be especially helpful if his national police want to track down recalcitrant high schoolers who haven't done their required period of community service.

If we can find out these things in just a few days, imagine what we will discover if there is time for a legion of taxpayers and voters to really peruse this illusion.

We are just three votes shy of putting a halt to this travesty, and we need some time to determine whether we really are looking at a possible economic stimulus or, as many others are claiming, a pork ridden spending spree that will once again benefit the few at the expense of the many.

Let this bill be handled the way bills should be handled. With plenty of time for close inspection, plenty of time for "spirited debate" as they like to say in DC, and plenty of time for the real "American public" to scrutinize every facet of it before contacting their Senators and Representatives to voice their opinions.

There is an adage among sales people that once you have sold a customer, "get the money off the table." The reasoning behind this is that if you have a down payment or even a full payment in your hands, leaving it in plain sight could result in the buyer having second thoughts.

Poker players know this rule as "never count your money, while you're sitting at the table" as Kenny Rogers noted in his song The Gambler.

It is clear that the Obama Administration, aided and abetted by Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi and Senate President Harry Reid and their minions, is working feverishly to get the money off the table. Pass the bill, sign it into law quickly, and then commandeer the airwaves and American Terrorist Media to crow about its benefits even if the country is being flushed down the sewer - that is the plan.

Lest we forget, the economy first went into a tailspin because the housing market collapsed. But the housing market collapsed because ages-old safeguards that were put into place during the Roosevelt Administration to prevent just this situation were removed by Presidents carter and Clinton, and Congress speeded the deterioration by forcing banks to make loans to people who had no means to repay them.

I am not for a moment going to claim that this was entirely a Democratic engineered situation because there were far too many Republicans involved. But it was wrong, it is wrong, and dumping a larger pile of money on top of a burning pile of money in hopes that it will smother the fire just doesn't seem viable.

The stock market tanked yesterday after Obama's plan passed the Senate and went back to the House for rework. That should tell us something about how the business world views this proposal.

It is time for Senators and Congressmen of all political persuasions who really care about America to put the brakes on before this out-of-control train becomes a train wreck. Hold up this package for full scrutiny, let's see it in the harsh light of dawn and decide whether it is a be-all, end-all economic miracle, or just another piece of DC legislation that further erodes the rights of the America populace and sells our children into economic slavery.

It's easy. Two letters, one word. Just say no!

In keeping with an arbitrary First 100 Days set by Franklin Roosevelt as a milestone for determining the direction and potential success of a new presidential administration, the media is giving The Prez Obama a pass on a plethora of missteps, miscues, misinformation and flat out horror stories.

I, on the other hand, am not bound by such inanities and have decided that the first three weeks is plenty of time to see where the new administration is headed.

After careful examination and analysis I have determined that if we aren't on the road to perdition we certainly are going to hell in a handbasket.

What a colossal rip off! This is the new Messiah? This is the Chosen One? This is the guy who is going to bring us all together, touching toes in New Age encounter groups while he herds our children into mandatory government work parties and police state platoons?

He can't even get his cabinet together without appointing crook after crook! People are withdrawing their names from nomination faster than the Internal Revenue Service computers can spit out their back tax records.

And each time another scofflaw is named to head a major government department, and they are then discovered to owe tens if not hundreds of thousands in back taxes, we are told that it is all just an honest mistake. Sorry 'bout that. Bookkeeping error, doncha' know?

Yeah, tell that to Willie Nelson and Wesley Snipes.

I bet they wish they had thought up that "honest mistake" line when they IRS was telling them "pay up or federal prison, it's your choice."

So how does this amount to the change we were hearing about last year during the campaign season? What exactly has changed?

Obama has put more former Clinton staffers back into power in Washington, or at least tried to, than anyone except Bill and Hillary themselves. Was this all just a big charade?

Obama is going to close the Guantanamo Bay terrorist prison! Um, someday.

Obama is going to bring the troops home from Iraq! Um, in a while. Maybe a bit longer than originally envisioned, but, you know, someday.

The far left has got to be quivering with suppressed rage.

Obama is going to bring change! So far the only change I see is that some of the crooks have been getting caught before they actually take office. Or in the case of the infamous Illinois replacement Senator issue, the crooks are getting tipped off before they actually commit a crime, even a process crime rather than a real crime.

And what on earth is going on with this "stimulus" package. First it was 700 billion, then 800 billion, then nearly 900 billion and OH GOODY! A DEAL HAS BEEN STRUCK! WE'RE DOWN TO SOMETHING UNDER 800 BILLION AGAIN!

LOOK AT THAT! CONGRESS, INCLUDING AT LEAST TWO TURNCOAT REPUBLICANS, IS "SAVING" THE TAXPAYERS MORE THAN A HUNDRED BILLION DOLLARS! WAHOO!

OH THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU.

Has it occurred to anyone that if this money wasn't taken OUT of the economy through taxation that it already would be IN the economy? And if our children's children are to be taxed to pay for this travesty then we are KEEPING it out of the economy, plus interest, for generations! ARRRRRGGGHHH.

Arlen Specter and Susan Collins, turn in your GOP badges. You're history.

Do you know what Susan Collins sees looking a back at her when she looks into a mirror.

This is Susan Collins when she is running for office.









This is Susan Collins when she looks in the mirror!


Why look, she doesn't look anything like a Republican at all. She looks just like a Rhino! Or RINO, take your pick.

Meanwhile, the media continues to gush about the Obama excesses and missteps as nothing more than necessary flourishes to usher in a new era of hope and prosperity, even though Obama outdid his predecessor by about 400 percent on Inaugural expenses.

And these clowns can't figure out why no one is buying newspapers any longer? Oh, sure, changing demographics and the advent of electronic news dissemination. My foot! People don't buy papers any longer, or watch television news, because we are sick to death of being lied to by media hacks who have an agenda.

And now, silently, like a killer cancer, behind the scenes of the Big Bailout distraction, the Obama administration is setting the stage for the resurgence of the so-called Fairness Doctrine. Under this reconstructed program government propaganda stooges will use taxpayer dollars to shut down conservative talk radio and force us to listen to mindless twits who can't get a paying audience on the open market.

What a great three weeks! I can't wait to go to work Monday and tell everyone at the water cooler how excited I am over the CHANGE that has been wrought in Washington, D.C., now that a new administration is is power.

Oh, sorry. This is a one-man office, there is no water cooler and no one to talk to, at least in person. Well, that's OK, no one wants to hear that nonsense anyway.

Do you know what else Franklin Roosevelt did during his first term? He signed off on an end to Prohibition! Made booze legal again he did. Got everyone so liquored up they neither knew, nor cared, that he was eroding huge chunks of our basic liberties under the guise of economic reform.

Do you know why the government takes a big bite of your paycheck before you get your hard-earned money? Because in 1943, during the third Roosevelt Administration, Congress passed, and he signed, the Current Tax Payment Act.

Prior to that little slight of hand people just figured out how much they owed the government, wrote a check and mailed it in. Of course this was during WWII, The Big One, and everyone was feeling very patriotic, just like VP Joe Biden, and they bought the government's line that a constant flow of cash was necessary to keep the war funded.

After the war ended there was not much support for ending payroll withholding, since after all, politicians always need money, the size of government had ballooned during Roosevelt's years, and if taxpayers ever got fed up and revolted they had given up a major weapon - that being control of their own purse strings.

So, what is The Prez going to do for us? End the war on drugs by making everything from pot to heroin legal? Get everyone so toked up they won't know or care that the grandiose promises of the Obama campaign have gone up in smoke, so to speak?

Did you hear that Obama is going to blast the presidents' faces off of Mount Rushmore and have a new massive sculpture of himself replace them? You didn't? Did you hear that he refused to attend the Medal of Honor recipients ball on Inauguration Day?

Do you know which of the preceding statements is true? Look it up. I'll wait. We have another 80-some days before the First 100 is up. Plenty to do, and plenty of time to do it.

OK, first I should point out that I am the one who used the phrase RINO - Republicans in Name Only - in the headline.

When former Maryland Lieutenant Governor Michael Steele was making his acceptance speech after his election as the new Chairman of the Republican National Committee he actually said "obstructionists" are the ones who should get ready to get knocked over.

I heard some media people who don't want to ruffle feathers saying that obstructionist means Democrat. I, on the other hand, want to ruffle some feathers and I am taking his comments to mean RINOs.

RINOs are people who either infiltrated the Republican Party with the intent to divert it from its core conservative principles, thus weakening it, in other words saboteurs; or blithering incompetents who are so afraid of their own shadows that they can't steer a consistent positive course because someone did a fictitious poll - as most polls are - saying they should do something else.

Michael Steele, GOP National Chairman

I watched Steele's interview with Chris Wallace on Fox News Sunday yesterday and I was really impressed with the man. He was well at ease, knowledgeable on the issues and more important, his personal positions on the issues, and wasn't telling fairy tales about what he must do to bring the GOP back into prominence.

I also liked his forthrightness when discussing his plans to reach out to various minority groups who may not always agree with every facet of the conservative philosophy. Steele said that rather than focus on the 20 percent of issues we disagree on, he wants to focus on the 80 percent of the issues we agree on. Good point.

Frankly, outside of a small percentage of people who wear the conservative mantle for their public personas - income producing of course - I don't think the vast majority of conservatives put the same emphasis on every facet of what is described as the conservative philosophy as every other conservative.

By that I mean, we all have our priorities. For me, the top priorities are national defense and economic stability. I see the world as an inherently dangerous place with lots of bad guys lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to hurt or bring down our country. I also don't like seeing the government play fast and loose with tax dollars and applying billions to handouts when I may well not agree with the programs that receive the money.

In line with my defense and economic priorities are Second Amendment and Free Speech rights. I believe I should have a right to voice my opinion, as in this blog column, and I DO have the right to protect myself, my family, my home, my property and even my country, with whatever weapon is necessary to whatever degree is necessary to get the job done.

Other people put abortion, gay rights or gay marriage, and similar social issues at the top of their priority lists. My reasoning is that if our country isn't safe, and our homes aren't safe, then pretty much everything else is a moot point.

So when our new GOP chairman says he wants to focus on the things we agree on, I am with him.

I would point out to our new chairman that there is one minority group that has been consistently overlooked by our party in the past two decades or so, as it was careening headlong into the abyss of irrelevance. That group is conservative white males who don't belong to country clubs and basically are seen as something loathsome by the elitists who have been running the GOP heretofore.

Get the white guys back and you'll get their wives back too. Ignore us, or trample on us as the previous leadership has been doing and you, Mr. Steele, will go the same way as your predecessors. But if our new national chairman understands that if the GOP has been a party of "old white men" he should also understand that the old white men who ran the party looked down their noses at the blue collar and non-Ivy League white men, just as they did to everyone else.

I have been reading all the news articles about how the GOP elected Mr. Steele to lead us in response to the Democrats getting Barack Obama elected president. Maybe there were some who feel that way, but I believe that for most of us, Michael Steele was elected chairman of the GOP because he is the right man for the job, at the right time.

Personally I am quite happy to see people like Steele, Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal, and of course Alaska Governor Sarah Palin emerging as the "new faces" of the GOP. But for me, and for most people I know, race and gender have never been the issues.

We are looking for strong, principled leaders who know what they want to do, where they want to go, and have the leadership skills to implement their plans. Stay out of trouble, don't go feeding at the public or quasi-public trough when you are in office, do the job you promised to do, and don't waver from your beliefs. Stay true to the core of the party, and I guarantee you, the party will stay true to you.

Michael Steele is promising to bring the party to every corner and every group in the nation and warned obstructionists to "get ready to get knocked over." Steele also said "we will cede no ground to anyone on principles."

I am with him, and I believe many, many others will be too, if he delivers as promised. We may even bring a significant percentage of independents back, or attract some first-time converts.

Steelers Deserved to Win The Super Bowl!

My son pointed this out to me and I agree with him completely.

When the opening ceremonies were just about concluded at Raymond James Stadium in Tampa for the Super Bowl last night, a collection of players from both teams, in addition to referees, Hall of Famers, and other dignitaries gathered at midfield for the customary coin toss.

Each person was introduced and applauded, but one of the most generous responses came when the man who would be tossing the coin was introduced. He was considerably smaller than the players standing near him, but he wore four silver stars on each shoulder of his US Army uniform, and rows upon rows of combat awards on his chest.

Gen. David H. Petraeus, who now heads the US Southern Command, but last year was the genius behind the offensive in Iraq dubbed The Surge, that decisively won the war there for us and the Iraqis, was the honored guest.

The coin was tossed, the call was made, and thus was decided which team would kick off and which would receive. Then everyone, well, the players primarily, took turns shaking each others' hands.

But only one player, Big Ben Roethlisberger, quarterback for the Pittsburgh Steelers, took the time, and had the courtesy to walk to Gen. Petraeus, thank him and shake his hand. The others left the field without so much as a nod.

The Steelers were first on the class and dignity scoreboard, and the rest is now sports history. It was a good Super Bowl. In fact it was a great Super Bowl. It could have gone to overtime. The lead see-sawed back and forth. There were some great plays including the Steelers interception and 100-yard runback for a score just before the first half ran out.

But I agree with my son. The game was decided at the coin toss, and all it took was the decency to say thank you and shake the hand of the man who more than any other American is responsible for us having the freedom to enjoy our national pastime without fear of attack.

Note to next year's underdog quarterback: If you see a military uniform nearby just before the game starts, take a minute to say thank you to the person wearing it, and shake a couple of hands. You never know. The game may be decided in that one gesture before you ever take the field.

Remember that old saying, Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining?

It occurred to me the other day when I saw a video of the Pentagon's final farewell to President and Commander-in-Chief George Bush. The hour-long ceremony, officially labelled the Armed Forces Farewell Ceremony in Honor of Commander in Chief George W. Bush at Fort Myer, VA, is available on the Pentagon's website and can be downloaded, or you can just watch it here.



Toward the end of the ceremony, US Army Sergeant Leigh Ann Hinton stepped forward, mere feet from where President Bush, First Lady Laura Bush and other dignitaries were seated, and delivered a solo rendition of God Bless America that would have made Kate Smith beam with pride.

It made me beam with pride because Leigh Ann is my cousin (2nd). I haven't seen Leigh Ann in years, but I do hear occasionally from her parents, Floyd and Kay Haber.

I have known both of them virtually my entire life. Floyd is my cousin and our families regularly got together when we were young. Kay and I attended the same elementary schools, and we went to the same church, both singing in the church choir. When I was really small - I was in kindergarten, Kay was in 2nd grade - I remember her being one of the "big girls" who helped little kids on with their snowsuits and boots.

But in the last 20 years or so all of us have done a ton of moving around and I didn't see many members of my extended family as much as I would have preferred.

Then we linked up, four years ago at a family reunion, and again at my Uncle Bob's 100th birthday. In early December my Uncle Bob died at the age of 104, as I related in an earlier column, and suddenly I was hearing from my extended family again as we reminisced on the past.

In addition to hearing from Floyd and Kay I received an email from Floyd's brother Bob, an organic farmer with an hefty interest in cutting edge food production methodology such as aquaponics, who is the last family member still living on and working the remnants of our grandfather's farm. Bob regularly reads this column and occasionally comments, but the message this time was that our cousin Leigh Ann had sung God Bless America for the president and I could watch her performance on the Pentagon channel.

I logged on, tuned in, watched the entire ceremony and could not have been more proud. That lady has a voice that I can only describe as incredible. What a performance! Her mom and dad said that when she was singing, the president was so overcome that he had tears streaming down his cheeks and Leigh Ann had to look away to avoid being overcome herself. What a tremendous performance. What a tribute to an outgoing president.

Now here is the icing on the cake. Leigh Ann's sister, Janet, who lives in upstate New York, also was in contact in recent weeks, and she too has a particular talent that has made a difference in my world. As I related in another earlier column, my 92-year-old mother, who had been living alone for nearly a decade, moved in with my family and I just before Christmas.

The transition has been exceptionally smooth for her and us. We have heard from a plethora of family members who are grateful that we offered mom a place to spend the rest of her life among her family, rather than being consigned to a nursing home.

For the first time in years Mom is taking an active part in managing her own life, and she couldn't be happier - unless she was 20 again, I guess. We have worked hard to reconstruct her medical and dental histories so she can have medical care immediately available if necessary, she is meeting people, looking forward to her weekly hair appointment, and planning which flowers she wants to plant in the spring.

But as anyone who is a 24-hour caregiver for the elderly is aware, older people get cold much more easily than us younger folk. To compensate, we have turned the heat up in our home, and I will be spending far more for oil this winter than I had planned. But I would much rather see my Mom warm and comfortable than pinch pennies or restrict her movements which would only make her miserable.

This is where my cousin (2nd) Janet comes in. Janet has a skill that actually should be referred to as an art, that being knitting, or crocheting afghans.

I learned this when a parcel addressed to my Mom arrived just after Christmas. (Janet must have pretty good reactions too, considering that Mom was dropped off at my house three days before Christmas. When this all happened I was only given three hours notification that Mom was about to be turned over to an old-age facility, but it only took us a milli-second to offer a better alternative.)

Janet's gift of a hand-crafted and beautifully designed afghan was exactly what Mom needed to help with the transition. It not only represented a snug and warm covering, especially when the days got down to zero, but since it also was hand-crafted by a family member it provided a second form of warmth that has nothing to do with the furnace.

All in all, the renewed communication that resulted from my Uncle Bob's death has certainly brought positive benefits. My uncle was a very old man when he died, and he lived a life that was far longer and fuller than most of us can reasonably expect to imitate. I am sure that he would be pleased to know that so many of his family members are back in touch, primarily as a result of our shared grief over his passing.

So, what on earth, you have to be asking yourself at this point, does any of this have to do with George W. Bush. My response - everything.

On September 11, 2001 our country was the victim of a sneak attack by a group of Islamo-fascist zealots who flew two commercial airplanes full of passengers into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, collapsing them, another into the Pentagon causing considerable damage and death, and a fourth into the earth in Pennsylvania killing everyone aboard after passengers revolted and fought back.

These attacks were the culmination of decades of escalating violence against the US from Islamo-fascist zealots, and a political structure in Washington, DC that never took them seriously enough, nor understood what it would take to stop them.

Attacks on military installations, ships, embassies and individual Americans overseas grew into the first attack on the World Trade Center during the Clinton Administration. That attack and others on American military personnel stationed in Muslim countries were approached as violations of law rather than acts of war, which the terrorists laughed at, and only encouraged further attacks.

The only president since the debacle referred to as the jimmy carter presidency onward, to take these attacks seriously and respond in a manner that would prevent further escalations was George W. Bush. He went to war in the terrorists' home base in Afghanistan, where our forces smashed the Al Qaeda and Taliban political and military structure.

When Al Qaeda operatives moved to Iraq and took advantage of the support of Saddam Hussein, Bush, making good on his promise to America to "hunt down and smoke out" terrorists wherever they were hiding, pushed for permission to invade Iraq. He got it from a wholly supportive Congress, including some of the best known names in Democrat ranks from both the House and Senate. When our forces were victorious in the initial battles the world smiled on George Bush.

But when remnants of Saddam's army disbanded, melted into the cityscapes and countrysides and formed alliances with the Islamo-fascists in an attempt to return to power, Congressional Democrats and nearly all mainstream media outlets saw an opportunity to undermine Bush. Thus began an unceasing cacophony of lies, misinformation and outright pro-terrorist propaganda that continues until this day.

The battle to help Iraq form its own government was long and difficult, but ultimately our armed forces prevailed even as members of Congress helped our enemies - for which they should have been tried for treason - and major media outlets such as the New York Times printed national security secrets that put our troops and populace at risk.

Even so, we have spent the past eight years in relative security. We lost more than 4,000 troops in battles, while the terrorists lost something in the range of 50,000 which certainly put a crimp in their recruiting efforts. Iraq is now a free democracy working out most of its problems on its own and our troops will gradually be withdrawn over the next couple of years.

Meanwhile, more troops are returning to Afghanistan to hunt down the remaining terrorists who have fled there, because George Bush has made just about any other country in the world inhospitable to them.

Everything I wrote about above, all the ups and downs, good and bad that my family is experiencing, in other words - life - is possible because we have not been attacked again. President and Commander-in-Chief Bush took the fight to our enemies, prevailed in every battle, and showed the world that the US is NOT a "Paper Tiger" that won't stand up for itself.

While he was tending to the the task of keeping our country free, we, the common people were able to pursue our own interests without undue worry that we would find ourselves in the midst of another terrorist attack.

We have been able to rise every morning and plan our days with the full expectation that our plans would go as we intended. For this very basic concept that we in America see as our right, we can thank the administration of George W. Bush.

For all that was said about him, for all the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that he endured, President Bush chose not to lower himself to the level of pettiness exhibited by so many of his critics, and at the same time took on and defeated a vicious, reprehensible enemy.

Life went on unfettered in America's households and we can only hope that the next president can show the same steadfastness and dignity exhibited by his predecessor.

I firmly believe that when history is written by objective observers, the presidency of George W. Bush will be seen as one of strength, forethought, and steadfastness in the face of unprecedented adversity. I believe George W. Bush will emerge as an eminently human and capable president who saw to it that the rest of us were able to enjoy our lives and our freedoms.

I am truly proud and happy that my cousin Leigh Ann was selected to take such a prominent part in his final farewell from the troops. Perhaps the next afghan my cousin Janet produces can be sent his way, as a means of saying thank you from a grateful nation.

The process of selecting a new team of cabinet officers to serve the president elect is excruciating - painful to watch, painful to hear about, and painful to understand.

What we have as the Bush administration prepares to hand over the reins to Barack Obama's administration is cronyism at its finest. But it is unraveling before even one day has been spent in office.

The latest DC horror show was capped by a two-fer last week and this week. First we had New Mexico Gov. Bill Richardson, Obama's choice for commerce secretary, withdrawing under pressure as a federal investigation continues into how his political donors landed a lucrative transportation contract. That was immediately followed by the selection of former Bill Clinton chief of staff Leon Panetta to head the Central Intelligence Agency.

Panetta's selection is "raising eyebrows" according to the media which should have said it is sending sane people screaming over the edge. Panetta has zero real-world experience in the intelligence gathering arena.

Panetta is considered a competent manager especially on budget issues, but that doesn't explain at all how he is somehow qualified to be the top man in the free world intelligence field.

According to news reports, President-elect Obama planned to select a CIA head with extensive experience fighting terrorist networks. But his initial choices were all considered to have ties to the Bush Administration, which in the world of far-left Democrat politics is tantamount to being blackballed, regardless if the person would do the best job for the country.

Media accounts say that even Democratic Rep. Jane Harman of California, who was the senior Democrat on the House Intelligence Committee, was not offered the post because she had supported Bush's program permitting domestic eavesdropping of suspected terrorist phone calls that originated overseas.

The best that President-elect Obama's apologists can come up with as a resume entry for Panetta is that he played a minor role on the Iraq Study Group. That was an august gathering of DC insiders whose primary purpose in life was to criticize George Bush and whine that the war in Iraq could never be won, we would be endlessly mired in a quagmire, and that the sky is falling.

You probably haven't noticed that we have won in Iraq, because the media, with the exception of FOX News, is ignoring the victory. The terrorist infrastructure that was under construction in Iraq in 2002 and earlier, with the approval and assistance of the late Saddam Hussein, has been demolished and its remnants have fled to the Afghanistan-Pakistan border area, one of the few areas of the world where they won't be shot on sight.

Our forces are building in Afghanistan too, preparing to bitch slap them into terrorist heaven in short order.

So what does Panetta's selection give us? Well from here it looks frighteningly like it could be a replay of the jimmy carter administration when Stansfield M. Turner gutted the CIA of many of its finest operatives, people who really understood global politics and intelligence gathering. That in turn led to the Iran hostage debacle, and escalating attacks on American citizens overseas, our armed forces, our embassies, and ultimately our country.

It should concern us that while the DC soap opera continues to distract the media, Russian dictator - sorry, Dictator with a Democratic Sounding Title - Vladimir Ras Putin is turning his sights toward the Ukraine after forcibly occupying portions of Georgia last year.

It seems obvious that something dark and sinister is occurring on the unlighted side of the world and it would serve us well to know what it is. But instead, we are putting a guy in charge of our top spy agency who doesn't know anything about spying, intelligence gathering, or analysis.

In fact, what Panetta knows best is politics, at least American style Democrat politics, and by all accounts he is very good at what he does. But he doesn't do intelligence gathering, and this does not bode well for our country, it does not bode well for Eastern Europe, and it does not bode well for the immediate or long-term future of international relations on many levels.

It is clear that Putin is pushing buttons, flexing muscles and preparing to take over as many countries that were part of the old Soviet Union as he can. And he is using the same tactics as Joseph Stalin used in the 30s. Stalin created a false famine - meaning that there was food, but he killed people who tried to eat it - that resulted in an estimated 10 million deaths in the Ukraine.

Putin is using the natural gas pipeline that transects the Ukraine on its way to European markets to freeze out the Ukraine, as well as countries deeper in Europe, falsely claiming that natural gas is being stolen from his pipeline. Did you ever see what happens when an unskilled person tries to tap into a natural gas pipeline?

Envision Ka-Boom!

As a result of Putin's machinations, people in Europe are freezing, and the price of oil worldwide is going up again, since it gives futures traders another excuse to be "uneasy" which means the price of the commodity that causes their uneasiness goes up, along with their commissions.

But what do we have in Washington D.C.? Another drama, revolving around an endless parade of the same personalities, the same people, the same issues, the same distractions. Remember the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result!

Well, this was supposed to be different wasn't it? About one-fourth of America's eligible voters put a new guy in office under the banner and campaign slogan of "CHANGE."

Can someone please define "change" for me, other than what is left in my pocket after the tax man has mugged me? I don't see change, folks, I see the same old, same old.

And while the DC Insiders fiddle, the world is freezing, burning, drying out, shooting itself to pieces, and going hungry. How incredibly refreshing from what we had previously.

First and foremost I'd like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, in the truest meaning of the phrase. This year, in fact, as of this past Monday, Christmas in my household took a somewhat unexpected twist.

A few columns back I wrote about the death of my Uncle Bob earlier this month at the age of 104. The death of Bob Mandeville at such an advanced age was neither tragic nor unexpected, but that doesn't mean there weren't consequences.

It was a tremendous blow to my mother, who will turn 92 in a couple of weeks. Even though she has lived long past the average American life expectancy, my mother was and still is the baby of her family.

Her late brother and older sister are gone; my Mom and one older brother who is 95 are still with us. But Uncle Bob was the emotional rock of the family and for the rest of us who were junior in age to him, which means all of us, he had always been around.

His health wasn't bad and even though he died a few days after his 104th birthday, there had been a sense among some of us that he might yet live to see 110. As I wrote earlier, I think he reached the point in his life where he didn't need another milestone. Yet his death was still a shock.

The impact of his death put my mother into a temporary bout of what appears to be depression, and her diet dropped off for a few days, which is not good when you are 92. No one noticed because she lived alone, in an apartment about 120 miles from my house, and a mile or so from other family members. The day before my uncle's funeral I received a phone call alerting me that my mother was in the hospital.

As it turned out, she had become dehydrated, which led to other complications and for a few days it appeared Mom would be placed in an extended care facility. But once her bodily fluids and electrolytes were back in order she rebounded quickly, and I suggested that putting her in any kind of facility would do more harm to her than good.

My wife and I have been discussing this issue for a long time as our families have aged. We had already concluded that we could put an addition onto our house, a mini inlaw apartment if you will, and care for our elderly parents ourselves should it become necessary.

It has become necessary. I offered to take my mother in at my home, and my siblings quickly agreed. On Monday, Mom and a bunch of her belongings were bundled into my brother-in-law's car for the 120 mile journey from her home to mine.

As the plans were being made for her trip, my home office was torn asunder. It had been my son's bedroom when he was young, and has been my office since he moved out nearly two decades ago. Now my computer, phone and assorted paraphernalia have formed the inner ring of my bedroom castle.

The outer ring consists of those things that belong in a bedroom. The inner ring forms a second layer of defenses against unwanted intruders, and inside the inner ring you will find ... me. Typing away, checking out the latest news, reading political diatribes from those who agree with me, and from those who don't, trying to maintain a semblance of normality in what has quickly turned abnormal.

The room that had been my son's bedroom, then my office, now is back to being a bedroom. We took everything out, and replaced it with a bureau, bed, recliner, television, nightstand, end table, and telephone. A Christmas arrangement, prepared by my wife and daughter, with holly, pine boughs, pine cones, and candy canes in a silver sleigh was waiting for Mom as a welcome home present.

When she first entered she was pleasantly surprised, which is a good thing.

It should be obvious to even the most casual observer that there is a serious readjustment underway. My mother was opposed to moving into any type of facility that isn't her home, but she still is undergoing a major upheaval in her life.

In the meantime, we will be providing 24-hour care for her, and in the spring I will be adding a bedroom, sitting room and specially outfitted bathroom to my house. This will enable my mother to maintain a sense of independence, and to keep many of her belongings, especially those that mean the most to her.

She will have family as near or as far as she wants, since the addition I have planned will include unfettered access to the rest of the house. She will be able to look out a slider at my wife's flower beds and the vegetable garden from spring to fall, and she will be encouraged to do her own gardening if she wants.

We will be able to monitor her food and fluid intakes, and since I still maintain my personal trainer certification she has asked that I establish an exercise regimen for her. That should help offset the muscle atrophy that has resulted from her spending far too much time alone and idle.

Mostly what is required here is attention. There will be no leaving her for hours on end with no one to look after her. In fact there will be no leaving her alone period. Someone will always be here.

This could become tiresome, I am well aware of that, but there also are programs available where we can get some help if we need it. There are six hospitals within a half-hour of my home, and there is a 24-hour emergency room facility, complete with helipad, only 7 minutes away.

We have a very active senior center in my town, vans to take the elderly shopping, or to medical appointments, or even to get their hair done. There are events at the center where she can meet other people, and we have good neighbors who are sure to stop in every so often to say hello.

Basically she has an opportunity to live her final years with a semblance of independence and dignity, and have some fun along the way.

The only fly in the ointment came from a friend who mentioned to me the bumper sticker that tells senior citizens to "Live Long Enough To Be A Burden To Your Children."

I got to thinking about that and I couldn't help but wonder if Mom still remembers the stunts I pulled when I was a teenager. I mean, her short term memory has lapses but she is crystal clear on long term remembrances.

Do you think she would remember that time I raided the liquor cabinet when I was 16? She and Dad went out for the evening and I made two discoveries that night. The first was that blue label Smirnoff vodka tastes really, really good when mixed with Hawaiian Punch. (Kids don't try this at home.)

The other was that anyone who has never had Scotch Whisky previously should never try it out by taking a full shot all at once. Talk about making a beeline for the sink to spit it out! Wow. It's amazing I ever developed a taste for single malts.

I'm not sure if Mom figured out what went on that night, but I do know that my parents kept close tabs on the booze in our house. She probably knew something was up but couldn't prove exactly what it was.

Then there was the time my girlfriend MaryJane came over for the evening. That was the night I experienced my first ... cigar. Hah, thought I was going to say something else didn't you?

MaryJane was pretty much my first real girlfriend. I was a faithful member of the Methodist Youth Fellowship back then, which is where I met MaryJane ... and learned how to kiss. At the same time actually.

But the night I am talking about - it was winter, it had snowed, and we sneaked away to my neighbor's driveway which was lined with huge evergreen trees and really private.

We probably smooched a few times, but the real big surprise was when MaryJane drew two White Owl Tiparillo cigars out of her jacket pocket. She showed me how to light them and how to smoke them. What a night!

We must have smelled like chimneys when we returned to my parent's house and I got some really strange looks from my folks. But they never said anything.

You don't suppose my mother has been harboring that memory all these years do you? Would she really wait this long for payback? I still smooch girls, my wife anyway, and I still smoke an occasional cigar, but after all, I've been an adult for several decades now.

I drink single malt scotch, in addition to some nice blends, and a cigar company in Ybor City, Tampa, sends me a batch of very smooth Coronas every so often. There is nothing in that to warrant payback is there?

Kissing MaryJane on a snowy night under the fir trees, smoking cigars, and sneaking liquor when the folks were away. What kind of punishment do you suppose a modern-day mother would consider appropriate for those offenses?

What did she consider an appropriate form of punishment way back then?

Oh, I remember! Grounding me and forbidding me to see my girlfriend!

Uh-oh! My wife is not going to pleased if my childhood comes up again in this fashion. This could get very ... interesting.

Mike Christy and I exchange emails and occasionally talk on the telephone, but we live on opposite coasts and have never met.

Mike served as an enlisted man in the Marines in the late 50s, then went back to college and afterward joined the Army where he rose to the rank of Lt. Colonel before retiring. He is a highly decorated multi-tour Vietnam veteran, and Mike also is my "brother" on the Together We Served website that I refer to occasionally in my blog columns and feature on my home page.

Beyond his service in the military Mike is a Hollywood veteran who has been a technical adviser, actor, writer, director and producer for more than 25 years. He was featured both onscreen as Major Duncan, and behind the scenes in numerous capacities, on the Tour of Duty television series on the Vietnam war. (If you Google Mike Christy you'll find a ton of information about him.)

So, you must be asking yourself by now, what does this have to do with Ellen DeGeneres and Britney Spears? Well, today Mike will be featured on the Ellen DeGeneres show as the somewhat bemused homeowner who opens his front door in Hollywood to find Ellen and Brittney Spears ready to do a holiday song and dance on his front porch.

I don't usually write about the things going on in Hollywood. Nonetheless I enjoy good movies immensely and use them for reference quite often as regular readers of this column are aware.

I also enjoy the theater and once upon a time in a prior existence wrote theater reviews. Although I rarely comment on the private lives of the people who act in these productions, there are a lot of reasons why I think it is important to note that a friend whom I have never met in person, got a surprise Christmas gift and is sharing that gift with us.

Not the least of the reasons is that Mike's "gift" will be featured on The Ellen DeGeneres Show today. You can see a preview of their dance here: http://ellen.warnerbros.com/2008/12/another_sneak_peek_of_ellen_wi.php.

Just copy and paste that web address into your browser field. I don't know how long it will last before it is taken down so it is probably best to do it now.

Also, as anyone who reads or watches television news is probably aware, Britney Spears has had her share of troubles over the past few years. She has been a near constant presence in the headlines, and not for the right reasons.

But lately she has been making what we can only hope is a serious effort to turn her life around. If Ellen DeGeneres is willing to help out and guide a fellow entertainer in a better direction, teach her that good times don't have to involve the entertainment industry's usual definition of "fun," then I say, let's lend a hand.

One of the things Mike told me in an email that really caught my attention was that even though he lives in Hollywood, surrounded by entertainment industry people, and sees stars all the time, he was still somewhat amazed when he opened his door to find Ellen, Britney and the film crews on his lawn. Here, let him tell you in his own words:

Living in the land of movie making, we are accustomed to seeing movie and television stars, well-known actors, and the men and women whose faces we know but not their names. They are at grocery stores, restaurants and at the park near our house. We even have a number of actors living in the neighborhood.

Zachary Levy, star of "Chuck" lives the next street over with the same house address as ours. Leslie Bibb, featured in "Iron Man" and "Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby," lives two doors down. Until a year ago Jon Cryer of "Two and a Half Men" lived directly across the street.

We encounter celebrities often. But what happen yesterday was totally different.

My wife took our new dog to the vet's. I am home alone with Lady Bird, our older dog. Birdie loves to bark when people walk past the house, especially if the person has a dog on the end of a leash. I look out the front window to see what the barking is all about and I see maybe 20 people outside. Some have film cameras. Some carry clipboards. They are on my lawn, others are on the sidewalk and even more are standing in the street.

Then two blonde women walk past the window and one knocks on the door. I open it and standing before me is Ellen DeGeneres who asks if she and her friend can sing me a Christmas song. I look at the other blonde and it is Britney Spears! I must admit I was taken aback.

So the two chat between themselves to determine what to sing and they decide it will be "Jingle Bells." Ellen will take the low harmony with Britney taking the high. It is really good. I applaud! Then Ellen, always the spokeswoman, asks if they could dance for me. "Sure," I say. They turn their backs to me to play to the cameras and I watch.

Now keep in mind the cameras are on them and I suspect me for my reaction. Naturally, I look at Britney gyrating. They finish and Ellen asks what I thought of it all and I all I can say is "Great!" Ellen then asks if I would like a Christmas tree and when I said yes, a guy dressed as an elf, presents me with a perfectly formed table-top tree.

Ellen then asks who else I think they should sing and dance for. I send them up the street to Leslie's house. I applaud once more and off to Leslie's house goes the whole crowd.

I have been in the entertainment industry for nearly 25 years yet I am always somewhat thrilled when I see celebrities. This moment, however, was somewhat bigger. Only in Hollywood (or anywhere near)?!

So guess what I am doing this afternoon at 3 p.m.? Yes, I am tuning in to the Ellen DeGeneres Show to watch my Internet friend and Marine brother watch Ellen and Britney Spears dancing and singing for him.

I think next week we should shoot for an appearance on Oprah. Maybe she'd like to read my book!

CAUTION: CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE AND ADULT SITUATIONS!!
An example of just how difficult it is to be a woman in politics these days surfaced late this week when the Democrat Attack Machine, known here as the American Terrorist Media, ATM, went after Patti Blagojevich, wife of the embattled Governor of Illinois, Rod Blagojevich.

Aside from the rampant misogynism that also launched the attacks on Hillary Clinton, and the ongoing character assassination on Sarah Palin, the reasoning behind the attacks on Mrs. Blagojevich is that she swears!

The government has wiretapped tape recordings of her husband allegedly trying to sell Barack Obama's now vacant Illinois Senate seat to the highest bidder, and in the background a woman who allegedly is Patti Blagojevich is yelling obscenities. How dare she?

What gives with this woman? Swearing!?

I know what you're thinking and you're right. Back in the 60s one of the premier identity factors for the new, liberal, liberated, feminist-type woman was taking the shackles off their mouths, and cursing word-for-word, obscenity-for-obscenity with the guys. And not just any guys, because most educated and refined guys didn't use four letter words and related curses, especially in the presence of women.

No, the sign of the liberated woman was using the worst type of gutter language in the presence of anyone, anywhere, to show that aged social conventions were no longer in vogue. But obviously times have changed and it no longer is a sign of the ultimate feminist to stand toe to toe with any man in the room and swear him under the table.

Considering that no one has claimed she has Tourette's Syndrome, Patti Blagojevich apparently didn't get the memo. Or maybe she was a journalist in a previous incarnation and is just trying to conserve words and get her point across in as few as possible. Interesting isn't it that the only time a Democratic woman's use of the King's English becomes an issue is when the ATM decides she is no longer a useful tool for the prevailing political agenda.

If you ever wonder if the ATM conspires before "reporting" the "news" in unison you only have to listen to a Rush Limbaugh montage of the Democratic National Committee's daily talking points. He does this every so often, and on Thursday it was obvious that the word for the day was "delusional" when talking about Gov. Blagojevich.

Some really, really clever Democrat talking heads tried to use other words to cloak the origin of the copy they were reading - like "crazy" in place of delusional - but it didn't work. We all know where it came from. Obviously the Governor of Illinois is being thrown under the bus and the ATM is in place and doing the DNC's bidding.

But then the heads focused their venom on Patti Blagojevich. Common phrases were: "She swears like a sailor - my apologies to sailors." Or, a variation on that theme "She swears like a truck driver - my apologies to truck drivers." I also noted that no one said she cusses like "a politician." That would have been the lowest form of insult, too low even for the ATM.

A close associate told me, "No one said 'She swears like a Marine,' because in that case no apologies would have been necessary." Ha. Ha. Ha.

Anyway, I don't like to see these vile attacks on women just because they get involved in politics. They can fight just as hard and just as dirty as the men without being low-browed gutter snipes.

I have been around the world in the service of my country, drinking and fighting and swearing in some of the most illustrious stateside service town bars, and some of the best international dives on three continents.

There was a time when I could tell you if someone was saying "F' Off" in Chinese, Vietnamese, Japanese and even the Filipino dialect of the Spanish language. A Scotsman who was nearby when I was sipping a Glen Morangie in a pub in Glengyle a few years back translated the phrase "Grreat Soft Tarrrt," which one denizen of the pub said to another during an argument, as an insult based on sexual preference. But we won't go there in this column.

Thus, I hereby offer my services as an astute observer of international profanity who just happens to hold a Bachelor's Degree in English, to all women politicians who want to cuss out the competition without incurring the wrath of the ATM.

Nearly everyone who was badmouthing Patti Blagojevich the other day was saying that she and her husband regularly drop "the F-Bomb," as well as its vile expansion, the "MF-Bomb," so let's start there.

We shouldn't say the F-word in polite company. It's not polite. Let's work on a few alternatives shall we? Everyone, I want your full attention now. Put down your I-pods, turn off your cell phones and Blackberrys, and for crying out loud STOP TEXTING!

OK. Rather than referring to someone as an MFer, let's say they're an "Oedipally Orientated copulator!" That's Ed-eh-pully for currently serving Democratic members of Congress.

Practice that a few times just to make sure you have it down. Good, good, you're all doing quite nicely.

Many English language swear words involve various bodily excretions, in addition to the always popular sexual actions, positions and preferences.

One of the 'excretion' swears is to say that a person who doesn't "get it," is a S**t For Brains. Once again, you are stuck in a situation where you really want the target of your cussing to understand the extent of your dissatisfaction, but you don't want to resort to commonality in formal social situations.

So rather that getting caught calling someone a S**t For Brains, I suggest that, especially in the case of women, you smile nicely and refer to the offending individual, either directly on in the abstract, as possessing a "Fecal-level Intellect."

Similarly, when people want to really disparage the intellectual abilities of their enemies they are prone to calling them a D**k Head. Again, there is a better way without wallowing in the gutter. Merely tell everyone in earshot that the person is really named Richard Cranium - my apologies to the Cranium family, especially anyone whose Christian name is Richard.

Then we have the age-old B**w J*b, as in "He or she is a ... ." I am well aware that students of recent political history have been referring to this as "A Monica" due to some well publicized activities during the Clinton Administration. But I think that having gone through eight years of the Bush Administration and all the figures who came and went, rose and fell - so to speak - in that time, we should move on.

It just so happens that the incoming president-elect has a close friend and advisor who has shown an affinity for making things go BOOM!; Blowing them up in other words. So I think it is time to retire the phrase A Monica and reintroduce it as An Ayers! What do you think? Help me out here if you want. Suggestions are always welcome, although not always heeded.

Then, straight from the gutter we have the following: A$$hole - which becomes Anal Cavity - pretty straightforward I know, but it works; F'ing A**hole - which can be redefined as Rectum Copulator; while F' Yourself is translated as Self-applied copulation;

There are other possibilities for some well known offensive insults, such as "Put a Lip lock on my love muscle;" or if you prefer "Land a hurricane on my member." But let's try to keep this at least on the sidewalk.

Kiss My A** is really pretty base, so I suggest "Rim Job my rectum," in its place. But it should be used sparingly.

There undoubtedly are many, many more combinations of classy words that can be used in classless situations. But I don't want to overload anyone's gray matter in the first lesson.

Let's just take what we have learned today and consider that it is preferable to hear a governor's wife say "Tell that Oedipally Orientated Copulator, Richard Cranium, that he can rim job my rectum if he thinks this Senate seat is going 'on account.'"

That is so much classier than what was contained in some of the federal wiretaps.

Next week we'll tackle Knee-walking, snot-slinging, knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathing, bottom-feeding, unibrow, Neanderthal wannabes.

For today, however, here endeth the lesson.

Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss-shay,
That was built in such a logical way
It ran a hundred years to a day,
And then, of a sudden, it - ah, but stay
I'll tell you what happened without delay
The Deacon's Masterpiece, by Oliver Wendell Holmes

My Uncle Bob died on Monday, Dec. 8, 2008, after living on this earth for 104 years and four days.

Some might say that age aside my uncle lived an entirely normal life. He spent his working career in one place, attended the same Methodist church for nearly 90 years, lived in the same house nearly all that time, raised his family, voted conservative Republican, and volunteered in his church and community.

But I would say that in addition to his advanced age, my uncle was a unique individual who touched many people in his long life, virtually all of them positively.

For the first phase of my life my family lived next door to Bob, and I saw him virtually every day for nearly 10 years. At that time I lived in a two-family farmhouse that was owned by my grandparents in Center Brunswick, New York.

The land that surrounded our houses was the remaining acreage of what had been my grandfather's farm, and I grew up on a 10 acre natural playground - fields that were bordered by a small stream - The Crick - in upstate New York dialect. Across the road that bordered our property was a marshy area where the crick occasionally overflowed, and in the spring and summer we would awaken to the liquid trill of red-winged blackbirds that gathered among the cattails and rushes.

On the hill behind our house wild strawberries flourished in the summer, and an apple orchard provided blooms in spring, fruit in fall, and endless play possibilities all year long. Wild honeysuckle could be found in abundance, and nearby woods made for countless adventures. Uncle Bob had chosen well when he decided to live there permanently.

Uncle Bob was born in Sayre, Pennsylvania, but his Dad, Robert Mandeville, for whom he was named, died when Bob was very young. His mom, my grandmother, eventually remarried. She had been Maude Clarke when she came to America from Ireland, alone, when she was 16 - then she became Maude Clarke Mandeville, then Maude Clarke Brimmer when she married my grandfather.

The family, which by then included my Uncle Vic, my Aunt Olive, and my mother, had lived in Waverly, New York, and moved to Center Brunswick around 1921 a couple of years after World War I ended. When Uncle Bob turned 100 he was feted by the Center Brunswick United Methodist Church, of which he had been a member for some 86 years, so he apparently arrived there around the time he was 14.

Originally the house that became the focal point of his life wasn't even a house; it was an outbuilding on my grandfather's farm. The main house sat on a slight knoll, and about 100 feet away was a farm building, a small barn according to my mother, that was falling into disrepair.

Uncle Bob, a carpenter, set about turning the barn into a house. I'm not sure exactly when he began living there, but it was sometime in the late 1940s after World War II ended and his family needed the room. Ultimately the old barn took on an entirely new look, in the Cape style. It was Bob's residence for about six decades and still stands there in excellent condition. Quality work or what?

When we were living up the hill from him, I remember Uncle Bob expanding the second floor of his house, then building a garage for his car, then adding onto the garage to provide storage for farm equipment, primarily my cousin Paul's tractor. He built an all-weather porch on the back, where the whole family would often gather on summer evenings to enjoy the breeze and watch the moon rise - without the inconvenience of mosquitoes.

I enjoyed the smell of fresh cut lumber and the shavings from his carpenter's plane when Bob was working, and I hung around as much as I could when he was on a project.

The house and surrounding yard and gardens were always well kept. Bob was "a stickler" as he used to say, about keeping things in good working order. His tools were stored in the basement, and he had peg boards on the walls above his workbench with the outline of every hand tool he owned indelibly drawn on them so he knew where everything was supposed to go, and if anything was missing.

If I was to give you one adjective to best describe my uncle I would have to say "cheerful." He always seemed happy to see us, and greeted everyone with an exuberance that seems to be missing in modern society. In all the years I knew him I don't ever remember my Uncle Bob saying a bad word about anyone.

It was common to see Uncle Bob working outside, regardless of the season. But one of my fondest memories was of a summer day when he was washing his car in his driveway. My younger brother, Larry, who was maybe two years old, picked up Bob's garden hose and squirted our uncle, but also pointed it straight up, thus squirting himself as well, which caused him to drop it and run away laughing.

Bob picked up the hose and squirted him right back, adding to the fun. I was reminded of that scene at a family gathering a few years ago. My grandson, who was about two at that time, started picking apart his hamburger and throwing pieces at Uncle Bob, who picked them up and threw them right back.

Remember, this guy was now 100, but it didn't stop him from engaging in a mini-food fight with an opponent who was nearly a century his junior.

I don't want to give the impression that Bob's life was all wine and roses. It wasn't. In fact, he bore more than his share of burdens.

His only son, my cousin Paul, could give his father fits at times. Once Paul stuck an apple in the exhaust pipe of the school system's travelling music teacher's car. When she finished her class and started her car, the apple flew out of the tailpipe and right through a windowpane in the schoolhouse.

On another occasion Paul spent part of one Saturday afternoon lying under his dad's car with a hammer and screwdriver, poking holes in the muffler so the car sounded like a race car. I think that was listed among the "Things That Cause Parents To Look Skyward and Mumble."

But Paul was born with diabetes, and although he was immensely strong as a teenager, more than holding his own with farm chores - he also could put his back against the front of his tractor and lift it off the ground - the disease ultimately took his eyesight and then his life.

Bob was not a classic strongman, but he was an emotional rock. When my aunt Irene collapsed at Paul's funeral, no one was surprised that Bob was there to support her. He must have been enduring unimaginable pain himself, but his primary concern then was for his wife.

Bob's life away from home revolved around his work, his church and the Center Brunswick Volunteer Fire Department. Bob went to work for Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, RPI, in Troy, as a carpenter in 1926 and stayed there for 47 years before retiring.

As a charter member of the volunteer fire department he not only worked in his community, but just around the time I was born he accompanied our neighbor Milo Hyde Sr., out of town to spend several days helping flood victims. Uncle Bob was a member of the Fire Police, and he directed traffic at emergencies until he was 99. He founded the local Boy Scouts chapter and was the first scoutmaster. I can still see him teaching my brother how to tie a square knot.

Bob was a member of the Methodist Church literally from the time he arrived in Center Brunswick until he died. He was a member of the church's Men's Club and bowled with his friends from that organization for decades.

But you know what I liked best about him with regards to religion? He was devout, but not pious. By that I mean, Bob was the guy who always said Grace at family gatherings, and it was always heartfelt and meaningful.

However, he never portrayed himself as "Holier Than Thou." He never looked down his nose at the less fortunate or the less reliable, and he never pushed his faith on others.

If you watched his actions though, you would be impressed by him as a man of quiet faith, and you would be inspired.

Even though he was rooted to his home and community, Bob travelled when the urge hit. He spent enough time in St. Petersburg, Florida, known irreverently as God's Waiting Room, to know that he couldn't wait that long, so he returned north.

He and my aunt Irene once showed up unannounced at my home in Connecticut. Seems they had been driving Rt. 44 from point to point, just to see what was there. They stayed for a chat and some lemonade, then were off to finish their adventure.

On his 90th birthday, as family members gathered to throw him a surprise party, Uncle Bob suffered a heart attack. But he didn't tell anyone until the next day when he finally called for an ambulance. He spent a couple of days in the hospital, and then went home, picking up his life as if nothing unusual had occurred.

Over time, Uncle Bob saw his son die, his wife die, his friends and other family members die. In recent years he lost his daughter.

Two decades ago, a few years after my aunt Irene died, Bob met and became close friends with a lady named Margaret Busby, and though they never married, and kept their own houses, they were virtually inseparable. She was a quiet and kind woman, a decade younger than Bob.

But earlier this year when visiting Bob's house, Margaret suffered a stroke and died.

I think that was the beginning of the end for Uncle Bob. He said he only had two remaining wishes, to see his 104th birthday and to die in his own home.

Bob spent Thanksgiving with family, but didn't appear to be feeling well. On Sunday, Nov. 30, he was taken to the Samaritan Hospital in Troy, with shortness of breath and an overall feeling of malaise. The doctors said he was dehydrated.

My cousin Bob, whose Mom, like my mother, was Uncle Bob's half-sister, lives to this day in the house on the knoll where I spent my early years, just up the hill from Uncle Bob's house. My cousin reported that he, his brother and his sister-in-law were able to hold a small but enthusiastic birthday party for Uncle Bob in the hospital - cake and candles, and hospital staff joining in.

My uncle's spirits appeared better he said, and my cousin and I discussed whether Uncle Bob might just need a better diet and a little more company. Bob lived with only a cat for companionship now, my cousin told me.

But he also reported that doctors were saying Uncle Bob could never go home again and would have to be placed in a convalescent home. Family members were already talking about placing the cat with someone else.

But Uncle Bob would have none of that. I had called to talk with him and he told me that 104 was going to be his last birthday. I was surprised, and saddened to hear him talk like that. But he said it matter of factly, not with animosity or even regret.

My cousin told me that Uncle Bob was adamant about going home, just as others who wanted him in a care facility were unyielding, and he said it looked like a showdown was looming.

So, four days after he turned 104, having survived more than a century of good times and bad, maladies and celebration, during which he never lost his faith or his composure, Uncle Bob did the only thing he could do to avoid being sent to a care facility instead of back to the home he had built with his own hands. He up and died before anyone could place him elsewhere.

I guess he got the last word on that argument.

My mother said it best. He wanted to die in his own home, but he was being told he couldn't go back. It took the heart out of life for Uncle Bob.

He had built that house out of a barn on his stepfather's farm and it has stood as a home since then with little change. It was his home and it was a reflection of his values. It was where he wanted to lay his head down one last time.

Uncle Bob never craved the spotlight, yet his actions spoke volumes more than words, and through his steadfastness and faith made very real contributions to humanity. To the very end he was in full command of his faculties, and as I see it, he pretty much decided it was time to die, so he did.

I doubt it was mild dehydration, nor even the shortness of breath that brought the end. Bob made it clear in our last conversation that he still cared very much about his remaining family and friends. But if you look at his life objectively, it is not hurtful to conclude that the people who were the closest to him over the years are gone.

Sometimes death comes when a person believes there is no longer a good reason to stay alive. And it is quite likely that Uncle Bob believed there is a better place waiting for him, and there was no reason to delay going there.

If we are lucky, and deserving, he will be right, and waiting for us.

You see, of course, if you're not a dunce,
How it went to pieces all at once.
All at once, and nothing first,
Just as bubbles do when they burst.
The Deacon's Masterpiece, by Oliver Wendell Holmes

There was nothing wrong with many of the automobiles produced from pre-World War I through the 1920s and into the 1930s. In fact many were far superior to other models of their day, and would surpass many autos made today.

Ram Air, hydraulic brakes, turbocharging? Check out the Duesenberg! Hand built luxury, all the rage with the high society types of the time. But gone now, done in not by unions, ho-hum cookie cutter designs or excessive corporate salaries, but simply by a business model that could not survive hard financial times.

No one got a bailout. So why do we need one now? Please click on the You Tube video above produced by the CATO Institute that puts the question succinctly on the line, and then take a few minutes to ask yourselves the same question.



Barney Frank is throwing around the word "billion" as if we all had a few in our pockets. But can these billions really change anything? Or is this just Washington D.C.'s way of letting their union backers and corporate sponsors down easy? Will they all fold in the next year anyway if hard financial times continue?

But then, the politicians will be able to claim they did all they could to "rescue" the industry won't they?

I bet we'll still be able to buy a new car five years from now, even if it doesn't have an old familiar name. It probably will be something we want, that satisfies our sense of good workmanship, modern design and cutting edge technology too.

When you consistently write about politics and war you run the risk of being typecast as writing only about war and politics.

To avoid that pitfall, today we are going to discuss a few issues that are close to my heart - good scotch, good music, and meeting new people.

In the good music category Tina Turner took the stage in Hartford, Connecticut Saturday night, in a place that used to be called the Civic Center but now has a corporate name that I'm not using because they don't pay me to advertise here.

The concert was one of the best I have seen ever - bar none, and the really great thing about it was that Tina put on as much of a show, if not more, during the encore as she did during regular performance. She ranged from her own classics including Nutbush City Limits, performed during the encore from a mobile stage platform that took her out and over the crowd, to her famous cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival's Proud Mary, then on to What's Love Got To Do With It, with major audience participation, and a full program of hard driving rock and roll.

She had a great blues set including Undercover Agent For The Blues which I really, really liked. What a beat, what a sound! What dancers - the Flowers - backing up the singing. Whoa!

But it wasn't just about music, it was about performance, and stage presence, a multi-media production that included videos of Tina's past performances with groups including the Rolling Stones, in movies such as Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome with Mel Gibson - in which Tina was costumed similar to the role she played. Tina mixed modern dance with martial arts, had plenty of pyrotechnics, dancing - on stage and in the audience - and most important, she put on a show that at once entertained and sealed a connection with her fans that goes back decades.

Tina still has her voice, she still has her moves, she still has unsurpassed abilities and best of all, she has a work ethic that is sadly lacking in so many younger performers' productions who think the sizzle really is the steak. At a Tina Turner concert you get the sizzle, the steak and a wide range of side orders too.

What made the night even better, was the place my wife and I found for a pre-conference drink, and the people we met there. We haven't been wandering around downtown Hartford in quite a while and had no idea where to find a bite to eat.

But a half-block from the former Civic Center that now has a name I won't use here because ... well you know ... we found McKinnon's Irish Pub. It was jammed to standing room only, the music was nearly as loud as what we would hear in the concert, the beer was cold and the food was hot.

My wife, who is a world class weaseler - by that I mean she can navigate the densest crowd with the skill of a, well, a world class weaseler - soon had blazed a path right to the bar, where we met Colleen Ryan and her daughter Elizabeth, who had actually scored seats and food! Elizabeth had purchased concert tickets for her Mom and they were about to get their money's worth.

But here is where it got really nice. Colleen saw us trying to catch the bartender's attention and volunteered to help, making contact far faster than we would have otherwise. Then as fate would have it two seats opened up right next to the Ryans and we were in.

Colleen noticed that I had ordered a scotch, a well known bar blend, and asked if I ever drank single malts. Hah! You betcha.

I responded that I usually order the blend when I go out because so few places carry the singles that I like best, starting with Glen Morangie - 10 year old is very, very nice; the 12-year-old finished in Madeira wood is a favorite.

That got us going on single malts and what we like and don't like. Peat based brands are way down the list. Glenlivet was mentioned, and I brought up Taliskers which I haven't tried but is on my Christmas list. (It was featured in the movie Charlie Wilson's War starring Tom Hanks, Julia Roberts, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams and Ned Beatty. I AM mentioning here not because they are paying me to advertise it, they aren't, but because I like it - the movie.)

I told Colleen I had recently sampled 15-year-old BruichLaddich, brought to me by a close associate who has another friend who makes an avocation of finding rare Single Malts.

I neglected to tell her that as I write these columns the calendar right next to my computer screen, given to me last year by my wife as a Christmas present, features month-by-month Single Malts, a picture of a representative bottle with a history of where it is distilled, how long it has been around, and sundry bits of relevant information.

This month it features The Dalmore, aged 21 years, distilled on the north shore of the Cromarty Firth, an inlet off the Moray Firth. It is north of Inverness but south of Tain where the 16 Men produce Glen Morangie.

While Colleen and I were talking Scotch I was passing tidbits of the speech I give to my college classes, What Every College Student Should Know About Drinking, to her daughter Elizabeth. Meanwhile, my wife ordered a corned beef Ruben that not only was well prepared and delicious itself, but came with two of the best pickle slices I have tasted in a long time.

Time passes quickly in these circumstances and soon the clock on the cell phone said it was time to go. Imagine, we had what otherwise would be considered a really enjoyable evening BEFORE we attended the concert.

It was a pretty good night all the way around. We found a decent pub, we had good food, good drinks, good conversation and made a couple of new friends along the way. Then we got to see a concert that reminded me of why I have spent a lifetime loving Rock 'n' Roll.

I suppose this being a political column and all I should make one last semi-political point. Many of the supporters and media outlets who comment on our current president-elect claim that he is bringing racial harmony to America.

Obviously, these people have never been to a Tina Turner concert. Tina has been bringing harmony of all types, racial and otherwise, to the world music scene since before the president-elect was born.

From what I saw Saturday night in Hartford Connecticut, we can only hope she will still be doing it long after his 15 minutes have passed, and that if the president-elect is really interested in leaving a legacy of a better America, he can look to Tina Turner for lessons on human relations.

For most of my early driving years I was a Chevy man. I liked big-block Chevelles both for their engines and their back seats, I thought the 454 was a technological breakthrough, and I wanted a 1963 Corvette convertible, powder blue, with a fuel-injected 327 with a near religious fervor.

But in the mid-1980s I bought a four-on-the-floor, V-8 Chevy pickup from what I thought was a reputable dealership. Truth was, it was a piece of junk. Among other issues it had a problem in the rear end gearing and every time I shifted it made a thump no matter how gently I engaged the clutch.

I must have made a half-dozen trips to the original dealer in upstate New York, and it turned out the guy talked a lot, telling me at various times that I was hearing things, which really endeared me to him and his company, and even padding the vehicle's tailgate once, which did nothing but further infuriate me. Ultimately I found another dealer who took my business more seriously and after only two trips to the service department they discovered a defective gear, replaced it, and the thump ended.

That also ended my love affair with Chevy. The next vehicle I bought was a 1988 Lincoln Town Car, Cartier model with all the bells and whistles that I drove for 15 years and 230,000 miles. We also purchased a 1997 Ford Ranger pickup that my wife drove for something well in excess of 100,000 miles with no major problems.

I traded that in for a Ford Explorer, V-6 SUV that I drive to this day, again with no major problems. It is roomy, gets relatively decent mileage - about 24 mpg on the highway - and is the most comfortable vehicle I have ever owned.

The moral of this story is that if a car manufacturer makes a vehicle that I need, can rely on, that doesn't give me non-stop headaches or thumps in the rear end, then I will probably buy from that manufacturer. I will continue to be a good customer as long as I believe my concerns are paramount all the way from the plant to the dealership service department.

But even though I have been very happy with Ford Motor products and will look to Ford before I go to any other domestic or foreign models when I am car shopping again, I do not support the so-called "bailout" of the auto industry using taxpayer dollars.

I believe this is a form of corporate welfare that constitutes a gross fraud on the taxpayers. I think Massachusetts Congressman Barney Frank and his coterie of Congressional inquisitors should be investigated, and the Big Three should be told to get back to Detroit and work this out with a pencil, not by taking a free ride on my dime.

During the day Friday the headlines were saying that chances for a bailout of the US auto industry looked pretty slim. For a few hours I was hopeful that we taxpayers would be dodging another bailout bullet.

The Big Three - Chevy, Ford and Chrysler - had sent their top execs to DC again, this time holding their hats in their hands, driving instead of flying in private jets - only the president-elect and his family are allowed to do that - and taking unwarranted abuse from Barney Frank, to beg like street urchins for a few billion taxpayer dollars to get them through Christmas.

After all there is jewelry to buy, new airplane orders to place, luxury vacations to be taken, expensive clothes just waiting to be handmade to order, and of course top shelf booze and imported cigars that need temporary residence in Michigan mansions.

But overnight the headlines changed to a much more positive view - for certain Congressmen and auto industry executives - who are now saying a deal is in the works. Which means there probably will be a bailout and Congress will give the taxpayers a good screwing for Christmas, but the taxpayers won't enjoy it.

The latest proposal won't be for the $25 billion everyone was talking about two weeks ago, nor the $34 billion the auto industry was claiming it needed just last week. Oh No, it will only be for $15 to $17 billion.

I have a proposal for Barney Frank. How about you front me one percent of the difference between 15 billion and 17 billion? I can use that money to start up a couple of businesses in my community that will put good people to work in productive occupations and generate business and sales revenues that will help ease the property tax burden on homeowners.

What do you say, Barney? To sweeten the pot, I'll even write another column about you that won't be anywhere near as harsh as this one. I probably could be convinced to say a couple of good things about how you have had a change of heart and are actually helping America get out of this recession instead of just feathering your own boa, er, nest.

Think about it. This offer is only good through midnight.

Maybe I'm being overly harsh here, but Frankly, I was sick and tired of the US Congress back when it was just the occasional Republican using the Congressional Page system as a recruiting ground for homosexual dates with underage teens. That was a few years back and things have just gotten worse with the Democrats in charge.

Every time someone brings up Term Limits, some buffoon in Congress does something that proves the point. Then you get Barney Frank hiking up his skirts, screwing up his face and telling us all to go to hell, but not before he skims a few more billions out of the federal treasury to keep the United Auto Workers happy and sending him plenty of campaign contributions every two years.

I am against the bailout because I think the combination of union excesses and corporate greed have driven the price and the quality of the average American automobile right out of the market. Foreign manufacturers have come in to fill the void, and while I am strongly leaning toward another Ford next year, you can bet I'll take a look at some of the foreign models before I make a final decision.

I saw a video the other day about a new Ford plant in Brazil that uses cutting edge technology to meld assembly line robotics with appropriately applied human input, and also incorporates the primary manufacturing process - the chassis, engine, and transmission assembly - under the same roof as secondary parts such as exhaust, dashboards and interiors.

So the people who make the seats are making those seats in the same building where the rest of the vehicle is manufactured, cutting transportation and assembly costs dramatically. The plant also is ecologically sound - except that it was built where a rain forest used to be - and is seen as a model of cooperation between management and labor, without union threats and pressures.

So why don't we have a Ford plant like that in the US? Excessive built-in labor costs, and excessive government regulations. Our country has forced our original car manufacturer, the one named for the guy who invented the assembly line, to head south to do business because it is too expensive here.

The result is the circus we saw in Congress last week with Barney Frank holding hearings and treating the auto execs like recalcitrant children. Of course that was just another example of the Congress losing sight of its pronouns - meaning Congressmen think they are Lords over the people, instead of representatives working for the people.

Then in the middle of all this sound and fury, Chevrolet comes out with a new model electric car that should be no more than a prototype, but we are told it will save the industry, the nation, and end pollution - even though it can only go 40 miles before it needs to be recharged.

Excuse me. What happened to the electric cars that were all the rage in California a couple of years ago that could go a couple hundred miles on one charge? Oh, right, they were recalled and shredded. Hmmmmm.

I have a question. If Chevy can build an electric car that goes 40 miles, and then can do it again when the battery is recharged at some basic electrical outlet like the one in most people's garages, why can't it be recharged as it is moving?

Gasoline powered cars do that all the time and they have been doing it as long as there have been batteries and moving parts. This technological breakthrough, called the generator, or alternatively the alternator - pun intended, occurred a century ago.

It works like this. The battery provides the initial electricity to engage the starter with the flywheel, which turns over the engine, and simultaneously provides the spark to the spark plugs in the proper order as determined by the distributor - which distributes electricity to the plugs.

The engine catches, and as long as the electricity keeps flowing to the spark plugs, and as long as there is fuel, the engine continues to run. The crankshaft spins, and from that motion we power the water pump to keep the engine cool, the air conditioner to keep the driver and passengers cool, and the generator/alternator which keeps the battery charged so there will continue to be electricity for the spark plugs, and around it goes.

So why does the new Chevy Volt not have an alternator that will continue to recharge the battery as long as the electric motor is powering the vehicle, thus extending its range? There still are moving parts, so why not?

Need a bigger alternator to recharge a bigger battery? Come on, we have the ingenuity to solve that little issue.

It appears that Chevy is well aware of the recharging issue. Just check out the advertising from Chevy's website:
The Extended-Range Electric Vehicle that is redefining the automotive world is no longer just a rumor. In fact, its propulsion system is so revolutionary, it's unlike any other vehicle or electric car that's ever been introduced.

Chevy Volt is designed to move more than 75 percent of America's daily commuters without a single drop of gas. That means for someone who drives less than 40 miles a day, Chevy Volt will use zero gasoline and produce zero emissions.

Unlike traditional electric cars, Chevy Volt has a revolutionary propulsion system that takes you beyond the power of the battery. It will use a lithium-ion battery with a gasoline-powered, range-extending engine that drives a generator to provide electric power when you drive beyond the 40-mile battery range.

Are these guys serious? The Volt has a hybrid engine that uses a generator the same way generators have been used for a century - but only after the battery is too low to power the electric motor? So you get 40 miles gasoline free, but after that you revert to the same old, same old?

Why can't the lithium-ion battery be recharged by this generator as the car is being propelled by the electric motor? If you can do it at home every night you should be able to do it on the road. And they want 15 billion taxpayer dollars to push this on the public?

I'm not buying a Volt. There is superior technology available and we should be using it instead of trying to fool the motoring public yet again. I bet the guy who sold me that defective truck will have a lot full of these, if he is still in business.

I guess today's auto execs are too young to remember the Edsel. Look it up guys, you may learn something.

I want hydrogen. I want to use the technology now available on US Navy submarines that employs electrolysis to separate hydrogen from oxygen in sea water, allowing them to stay submerged for extended periods. But instead of using the oxygen and venting the hydrogen, I want to use the hydrogen - which creates water as a byproduct of burning - to power the internal combustion engine, and vent the oxygen to the atmosphere.

We don't need a hydrogen infrastructure to do this either. The "fuel tank" can be filled with water, which can provide hydrogen on demand. And yes, it would have a generator that would provide power for the electrolysis.

That is what I want and I absolutely believe it is doable because in a slightly altered form it already is being done. And I don't want to hear another word about junk science posing as a new breakthrough in automobile technology.

While we're on the subject, give me my money back! Christmas is just around the corner and I have to save the economy.