A short while ago, congress passed a huge “stimulus” bill, which turned out to be little more than a massive pork distribution to political allies and which has done absolutely nothing to slow the economic plunge the country is experiencing. Then the House passed the 1,300-page (including the 300-page Amendment that was revealed on the day of the vote) “Cap and Tax” bill, which was not read by a single legislator.

Are you OK with that?

Now, the same idiots are poised to pass a bill that will kill our existing healthcare system by turning it over to the geniuses in Washington (who brought you the aforementioned legislative turds) to determine who gets what care, who gets what medicine, who gets to see a doctor, who gets treatment and, essentially, who gets to live and who gets to die. And, oh yeah, it will cost a King’s ransom, but don’t worry; the “rich” will foot the bill.

The healthcare bill will surely top 1,000 pages, and the bastards want to pass it NOW. Does anybody other than those who have been squirreled away in Washington conference rooms drafting it know what the hell is in the bill? I don’t, and I’m confident that Mr. and Mrs. American sure as hell don’t know either.

No doubt, before the ink is dry on the healthcare bill, congress, with the help of pro-illegal immigrant groups, will get busy on an immigration amnesty bill, which the rats in congress will also not read, but they’ll break their collective asses to ram down the public’s throat. It means more democrat voters and more union members.

Oh, and the thousands of pages of those bills are just the tip of the iceberg. These legislative gems are “enabling statutes,” which means that they will each unleash legions of bureaucrats (who are elected by no one) to get busy writing tens of thousands of pages of federal regulations to implement the commands of the statutes. Every one of those tens of thousands of regulations will have the force of law.

It’s clear that this is an all-out frontal assault on America as we have come to know it, and I don’t know about you, but I’m fresh out of tolerance for this crap.

I fear that by the time that Americans realize what hit them it will be too late.

Apparently, some peeps at United Airlines got the hot squirts after seeing that Dave Carroll’s video “United Breaks Guitars” was watched by about a gazillion people. United, which repeatedly blew Carroll off after the guitar-breaking incident, apparently has had a change of heart and contacted him about paying compensation for his broken Taylor Guitar. I don’t know, but the lawyer in me suspects that United may well have wanted a quid for the quo, namely that Carroll pull the video.

Carroll graciously said, “No thanks,” and suggested that United give the money to charity. He also promised a new video.

The righteous part of me and the guitar owner part of me thinks, “Good for him. The airline deserves having its nose rubbed in the dirt on this one.” The cynical part thinks that Dave will benefit quite well by keeping the story alive.

At very least, maybe airlines will be a bit more careful with travelin’ guitars in the future, and that’s a good thing.

Thanks to my buddy Mike for the heads up.

I watched a bit of the speechifying by the Senators during the initial stage of the confirmation hearings of Judge Sotomayor. I couldn’t take more than a few minutes of it.

The Supreme Court is not and was never intended to be a representative body. The confirmation of a Supreme Court justice was never intended to bear the hallmarks of an election where various interest groups loudly and angrily campaign for their candidate – the one who will “deliver the goods.”

The confirmation process has become a partisan blood sport, due in no small part to the intense television coverage devoted to the hearings and politicians’ insatiable appetite for public bloviation.

Color me an idealist, but wouldn’t it be nice if the every President chose Supreme Court justices solely on the basis of the nominee’s being: (a) learned in the law and (b) scrupulously fair; and wouldn’t it be nice if the purpose of the confirmation process would be for the Senators to satisfy themselves, in a non-partisan, collegial fashion, that the nominee satisfies those two criteria? Yeah, I know. When pigs fly.

The process has become little more than unpleasant and unbecoming noise.

Via C&S

Therefore, I shall be goofing off poolside with the Usual Suspects, rather than noodling around on this computer.

Later, Peeps.

This video was posted in a comment by reader JimBob. I’d seen the video referred to in news broadcasts, but this was the first I’d seen it.

It struck a chord (no pun intended) with me, because I used to travel by air with my beloved Gibson Dreadnaught, which is forty-five years old (pictured here). I even foolishly checked it with regular luggage a couple times, only to watch it get bounced around on the luggage carousel. I learned that it is way better to “gate check” it, but even then it is at the mercy of airport luggage peeps, and, as the story in the video points out, sometimes that amounts to a giant FAIL.

I decided I needed a traveling guitar – one I could bring on planes and to blogmeets without worrying about it. Having admired a guitar that the Late, Great Rob “Acidman” Smith played at a blogmeet in Jekyll Island, Rob explained that it was reasonably priced and he said, “I can get you one like it if you want.” I said, “Sure,” thinking that it was a bit of blogmeet bluster.

I few days later I got a call from Rob who was calling from his buddy’s music store. He said, “Jeeyum, I found you a sweet guitar. Listen to it.” With that, he played it over the phone and observed that it “Played real nice.” He concluded, “Buy this guitar, and if you don’t like it, I’ll buy it from you.”

I bought the guitar (here is a picture from the web), intending that it would be a knock-around – don’t-worry about-it-guitar. That was in July of 2005.

I brought my Travelin’ Guitar with me to a Blogmeet in Austin, where I got the chance to play with Rob again. He was thrilled that I was happy with the guitar that he hand-picked for me. That was in May of 2006. Little did I know that Rob would be dead the following month. I wrote about his death and our improbable friendship here.

As you may well imagine, what was to be my knock-around, don’t-worry-about-it guitar is now precious to me. I have since bought another Washburn (similar, but not the same as the one Rob picked out), again from Rob’s friend’s store in Georgia, and it has become my travelin’ guitar. I think that Rob would agree that it “plays real nice.”

Strange how that humorous video brought all that back. Go figure.

PRS Operatives, ever on the lookout for the inside scoop, have managed to gain access to Nancy Pelosi’s Tweets. For those of you not familiar with reading Tweets, the most recent entry is on top. Here is a sample:

SpeakerNan Where the f**k is the Domino’s guy?

SpeakerNan I just felt my own ass. OMG it’s awesome!

SpeakerNan Then there was the time with Jefferson Airplane and the Wesson Oil. Freakin’ awesome!

SpeakerNan Did you know that I loved Jim Morrison two times? It was in a car parked near Fisherman’s Wharf. It’s true.

SpeakerNan Publisher of my book called wanting 2 charge me to dispose of 3 truckloads of books. Prick, I asked him how he would like an IRS audit. LOL

SpeakerNan Just farted and it sounded like a blender does when you drop some really thick shit in it while it’s running. Cracked me up.

SpeakerNan Speaking of my kitty, damned thing itches. What’s up with that?

SpeakerNan Franken will fit right in around here. The day he was sworn in he came to my office and asked if he could touch my kitty. Smart boy.

SpeakerNan Listening to bootlegs of the Dead, while doing some herbal inhalation therapy, if you get my drift.

I have a germ of an idea that might well be writeworthy and readworthy and, quite possibly, even mildly amusing. The problem is that I am too cranky at the moment to concentrate enough to develop it.

Yo, Jimbo. Why so cranky?”

The list is long, but here are a few examples:

There is talk of yet another “stimulus package.” I guess that’s because the first one (unread before enacted) was such a monumental success. These people must be crazy.

Michael Jackson mega-hoopla. ‘Nuf said.

The forecasted cost of nationalized healthcare (to be financed by more taxes, of course), a shit sandwich most people want no part of.

The One and his international “America is Always Wrong” tour.

The One’s propensity to piss off our friends and to cozy up to the rat bastards of the world.

Congressmen and Senators whose corruption is in neon lights and nothing … NOTHING seems to happen. Chris Dodd, Charlie Rangel, and William “Cold Cash” Jefferson come to mind.

Cap and Trade lunacy. What a swell idea in the middle of a recession – all in the name of global warming science, which is, at best, still unsettled, and at worst, a steaming pile of bullshit.

The One’s firing of Inspectors General who were investigating his pals and nothing … NOTHING happens. Remember when Alberto Gonzales was grilled forever by Congress for firing employees-at-will?

Henry Batface Waxman stating that it is unpatriotic to oppose the Cap and Trade shit-filled taco.

The fifty-two percent of the electorate that brought us the empty-suit Marxist and his pack of rogues.

See what I mean about being unable to concentrate on creating something amusing?

I took an Independence Day groundpound. I was enjoying the gorgeous weather when I noticed that several streets, each leading to one of the main streets, were blocked off, much as the town does when there is to be parade. I rounded the corner on the main street and saw people sitting at the curb on folding chairs, as if waiting for a parade to begin. What made this different were the bales of hay straw (Jerry taught me the difference a while back) that lined both curbs and along the center line on the street.

Bales of straw all over the place? Not something one sees every day – or ever, for that matter in these parts. I figured, ”Horses … gotta be horses somewhere” Stupid, I know, but I really didn’t know what to make of it – farookin’ straw bales? I got around to asking one of the peeps sitting in a chair by the curb.

“Yo, what’s goin’ on?”

Not a man of many words, he replied, “Soapbox Derby.”

Wow, I hadn’t seen one of those since I was of single digit age. I stood by the finish line (in front of more bails of hay straw, which were there to stop a runaway soapbox) and shot a cell phone picture of the track.

I continued walking toward the starting line and stopped long enough to snap pictures of the vehicles and the drivers in the waiting area.

It looked as if it might be a little while before the races actually started, so I continued on with the groundpound, hoping that on the return trip I might get to see a race or two.

As luck would have it, on my return trip, I saw the first race of the day go off. It was a girl driver versus a boy driver. The girl appeared to be winning, but about halfway down the hill, the boy caught and passed her. Once across the finish line, the boy applied his brakes, but the girl must have been so intent on racing that she either forgot to engage the brake or her brakes failed. In any event, she and her “car” went zooming full speed into two of the hay straw bales at the end of the track. KaaaahBLAMM!!!

I was worried that kid was hurt, when I saw the bales go flying. As it turns out, her mom ran to her, and she was OK. There were a few tears, but that was because she lost the race, not because she crashed or because she was hurt.

Given the state of the economy, the rogue nations talking nukes and the toxic politics of the day, a soapbox derby was a rare and most welcome find – especially on America’s holiday.

Here are the cell phone photos.

Here’s the track. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen so much hay straw in one place.

Here are some of the “cars.”

Here are some of the drivers preparing to rock. Unfortunately someone got in front of the “camera.” After all, I was on a groundpound, not a photo mission.

It was pretty cool.

My spam zapper has been letting things through into the moderation queue lately. Clearing the clutter is a pain in the ass, but occasionally I’m amused by the spamturds who try to pose as real readers. Today a spammer, commenting on an old, old post, which consisted mainly of a picture wrote as follows:

“You know so many interesting infomation. You might be very wise. I like such people. Don’t top writing.”

Yep, that’s me alright. I have very, very many interesting information, and I might even be very wise. Glad you like me, pal. Oh, and I won’t top writing either.

Dooshbags.