Okay folks, here is President Obama’s master strategy: A plan to crash the economy and create a real redistribution of wealth. It’s called Cloward-Piven. Named after the two left wingers that came up with the tactic in the 60’s, it is an insidious plan that has already worked before. Here are articles one and two that clearly spell out the disaster that will soon befall us.

The plan is simple. You load up the welfare rolls with so many people that it collapses. The “poor” then riot, and demand “their” money, given to them by the government. This method bankrupted New York City in 1975, by having a whopping 30% of the population on Welfare.

If this were to happen nationwide, multiple cities begin to burn due to riots because the Federal Welfare system collapsed – as it is ready to do at this point – the President would have to “give in” to their demands, granting them a guaranteed income.

This will crash the economy; the higher that guaranteed income is, the sooner it will happen. Simply because workers, productive citizens, who make wages under or near that level will stop working to get the “free” money by going on Welfare. It will crash the economy because more and more workers will quit and become a tax burden rather than a tax producer.

The present Administration is planning on two things. First, that everybody on welfare will vote for “bread and circuses” e.g., Democrat to keep the money going. Second, that someone will always buy our debt. Which, if we become a nation of freeloaders no one including China will buy our debt anymore. The value of the dollar will fall to zero, it will stop being the world standard currency, hyperinflation will strike and we will become a third world country.

This is what undid the Roman Empire, too many people on public assistance, too many people voting for those who kept the good times rolling, never mind that the empire was running on empty and beyond. As long as Joeus Schmous kept getting money from the emperor without having to lift a finger, he was happy.

This is the plan. How to stop it is to stymie the President at whatever he wants to do, even if it seems to be a good idea at the time. Remember, there are good, sound ideas and then there are ideas that sound good. Always know the difference.

The President must be stopped. The Congress must be stopped. Health care must not pass. If your Congressman or Senator is voting for this, beat him like a dead mule until he changes he vote. While the bill has already passed the house, it must be voted on by the full house again when (hopefully not) the Senate bill passes and they come to a compromise bill for both Houses to vote on. Write, write and then start calling. Write your Senators and tell them the same thing. Passage of health care reform will not only be the biggest snatch of individual freedoms the United States has ever seen, but it will crash everything we have into a brick wall at 100mph.

Don’t let Cloward and Piven win.

I came across this story via Mike at MainStreetJ.com this morning, and it brings voice to my concerns about what the previous Mayoral administration (who shall remain nameless, but if you’re from Memphis, you know who I’m talking about) has set in motion.

I like how the article notes that these cameras just might be unconstitutional, which is my take on things. I have no problem if a police officer catches me, but I do not like it when I get a ticket by mail a week or two past my offense because a police officer sat down and reviewed that videotape with me on it. I like to face my accuser, but how am I going to face a camera or picture?

And before you go off about the cameras in police vehicles, those are manned by officers, and protects the public against the police on those rare instances where the police cross the line.

Two or three of the major intersections I pass through during my travels in Memphis has these cameras. They have drastically changed my driving habits around those intersections. Usually, when I get a yellow light, if I’m close to the line, I press the light. Most of the time it doen’t change to red until after I’ve passsed under the light. Usually, there is someone on my tail who is pressing the light as well. Now, because of those triple-damned cameras, I’m going to lock up my brakes as soon as I see yellow, and hope the guy behind me doesn’t try to press the light while I’m trying to stop.

These cameras do remind me of a story that went down in California back when I was stationed in San Diego in the 80’s.

You see, in California back then you had to have a license plate on the front of your vehicle as well. What the “Chippies” (California Highway Patrol) did was park a nondescript van on the side of the highway. Inside the van was a radar gun and a camera. If you were going over the limit, the camera snapped a picture of your car and its’ license plate, the driver and the radar guns reading of your speed. So, if you were violating the speed limit, they would send you a picture of a ticket, along with the picture  of you, your license plate and the speed.

Well, one guy wanted to be a smart ass. Instead of sending in his $40 check and being done with it, he sent a picture of 2 $20 bills.

The police were not amused, but they did have a sense of humor. They sent the offending citizen back a picture of a pair of handcuffs.

He paid the ticket properly.

I highly suggest that you do NOT do this in protest of the ticket. While it’s cute the first 47 times, pretty much after that they just issue an arrest warrant and let you figure out what you did to earn a trip down to 201 Poplar (the local jail and Justice center).

There are now three holidays we celebrate those in uniform. Memorial Day, where we celebrate the fallen, Patriots Day, where we thank those who are currently serving, and today, Veterans Day. Today we thank those who have put in their time serving their country and survived.

Here is a story from a veteran who served in Vietnam, published in the Commercial Appeal.

It began just after midnight with the sound of multiple explosions that shattered the stillness of a cool, rainy and moonless night within the garrison of the 1st Marine Regiment.

The garrison perimeter bordered two small South Vietnamese villages, Duong Son 1 and Duong Son 2, about 10 miles south of Da Nang.

The direction of the sound seemed generally westward, perhaps 2 miles from the regiment’s combat operations center, a bunker fortified with sandbags where I was on duty as the fire-support coordination officer.

The specific direction and distance would shortly be confirmed by a chilling radio transmission from an outpost manned by a platoon of the regiment’s 3rd Battalion. The outpost was 3,000 meters southwest of our position.

The fire-support radio channel crackled with the first devastating news.

It was delivered by a very young Marine speaking in a hurried, hushed voice choking with sobs. “Blackwell, Blackwell, this is Tango One, over.” Blackwell, the radio call sign for the regiment, was quickly repeated. When I responded, the Marine said, “They came through the wire with satchel charges.

“I think everyone else is dead,” he said. “I’m the only one left. I’m not sure the VC are gone. I need help fast.”

I signaled the operations officer on duty and sent a messenger for the artillery officer. Other staff officers assembled one by one, and soon the colonel was in the bunker. The radio sounded again with the young Marine’s urgent appeal for help. The sound of his voice over the radio speaker was unforgettable. “I can’t see them, but I think they are moving back in.” It was a chilling moment for everyone listening. We desperately wanted to help but were momentarily stymied by time, distance and weather conditions.

Quickly a plan was formulated. Another platoon would be dispatched to the outpost. It was critical that radio contact be maintained throughout the march. I would make sure the Marine knew troops were coming and would keep him informed of their position as they moved closer.

It was pitch black and raining hard as the second platoon assembled and began moving out. The young Marine’s voice over the radio was haunting. He was alone except for the tenuous radio contact, and his anxiety cut through the static. “Hold on, help is on the way,” he was told, but at that moment, the chances for a successful rescue seemed remote. Without knowing the enemy’s current location and movement, we were literally operating in the dark. It would prove to be an agonizingly slow process for men trying hard to help, and sheer terror for one young Marine.

As the second platoon made its way toward the outpost, I knew the sound of its movement might easily be mistaken for another enemy attack. Keeping the Marine informed about the platoon’s position as it closed the distance became the priority. Several times he said he intended to open fire at the first sound. He was convinced the enemy would reach him first.

Tension mounted with the platoon’s continued advance. No one could be certain the sounds of the first troop movement he would hear would be those of his rescuers.

The platoon leader monitoring the radio channel understood the problem, but in the conditions he could not pinpoint the enemy’s location. As the rescue platoon drew near the outpost, a senior officer in the command post ignored radio protocol and call signs and simply transmitted, “Son, it’s going to be all right. Second platoon is approaching you now from your northeast. That is your men you will be hearing very soon. Please don’t shoot.” When the second platoon reached the outpost a few minutes later, the emotional radio confirmation by the young Marine and his rescuers prompted long sighs of relief and smiles in the command bunker. There were no dry eyes.

As more information came in, it became clear that a large Viet Cong unit had launched a heavy mortar attack and raid against the outpost. By avoiding detection in the wind, rain and darkness, the enemy had penetrated the outpost perimeter wire and had hurled high-explosive satchel charges with devastating effect. Fifteen Marines were killed, some as they slept and others in their struggle to fight back. Twenty-eight men were badly wounded. In the darkness their incapacity had convinced the young Marine on the radio that he was the only survivor.

In the bleak dawn, several of us ringed the garrison’s helicopter landing zone, standing with rain soaking down, watching as the medivac choppers arrived to take 28 severely wounded Marines aboard.

While the wounded were being carefully tended and loaded, 15 body bags lay waiting, side by side, glistening in the rain. I noted the time and date. Back home in America, it was Veterans Day, Nov. 11, 1966.

I don’t think anybody who hasn’t been through experiences like this can have the imagination of what it was really like. Imagine having lunch with a co-worker, then having to put them into a body bag before the end of the workday. Now imagine having to do that every day for a year. Those kind of experiences change people.

This is why we must thank those who stood tall for our country when we needed them. Thankfully, in my service I never had to answer a real General Quarters, I never had to storm a machinegun nest. But I thank those who did. To be scared and still do things like that takes a courage that surpasses anything else in this world.

If you know a veteran, thank them for their service. Take them to lunch and if they share, listen to their stories and experiences.

I was watching football this past Sunday, and I saw a very funny commercial. Normally I don’t pay attention to commercials, but this one caught my interest.

The setting was the Island of Misfit Toys from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. The iPhone waddles on, and all of the misfit toys asks the iPhone why it was there. The iPhone then puts up a holographic map of the US showing the sparsity of coverage that AT&T has. The top corners then bend forward and down, like it’s slumping, sad. Then the punchline about Verizons 3G coverage comes on and blows the iPhone and its’ map away.

I can’t stream video from where I am at the moment, but as soon as I can, I’ll see if I can’t post a YouTube of the commercial.

My apologies for not being more frequent in my posting. So many things I have missed, like New York 23, and the Governorships of both New Jersey and Virginia. I have not been on top of things, and that is only because of my extreme professional and personal busyness.

I have actually taken the past week off, PTO pr Paid Time Off as they say in my company, in an effort not to lose the time before the end of the year. I will have to take another week off around Christmas to make sure that I am under the carry-over limit.

Anyway, when I first became ill, and moved out of our foreclosed home, everything that wasn’t essential in the new home was put into storage. About 2 weeks ago, I took a Saturday and moved everything out of the storage facility and into my garage. I have spent the past week going through all of it, tossing most of it as outdated toys, non-fitting musty and moldy clothes, and just the flotsam and jetsam of a tragedy.

I made my way through about 50% of it this week, throwing out most of it. Some things were treasures and others surprises. I have saved about 20% of what has gone through my hands this week. I have found things like some of my old original Battletech miniatures, some 1st edition Warhammer 40k miniatures and my scuba diving books and mask.

Each item has brought up both good and bad memories.  Memories of good times long past, and the hurt of my illness upon myself and my family. But enough of that.

I have also caught up on many other things as well, most of them private. Some of them I may tell you about one day.

I didn’t want you to think that I have lost interest in this blog. I have not. It’s just that between my day job, my night job and my personal life, it seems that I have very little time for myself. Certainly not the time that I need to thoroughly research what I post about.

Today is chocked full of things to do, that I have not gotten done in the past four days. I’m getting a physical this morning, a movie with a friend this afternoon, and something else with another friend tonight. Tomorrow is an Uncharted Seas tournament at the Depot, and Sunday is more sorting and football. Monday is back to work and more detritus to dispose of.

See you again soon.