Here We Go Again . . .
First of all, I can’t believe Americans are even discussing the right to bear arms. If people are too thick-skulled to read the Constitution in a rational manner, that’s their problem. I don’t have a reading problem but I do have limited tolerance for liberal idiocy.
I love liberals who claim the Second Amendment only pertains to hunting guns. Um, no. Our founders wouldn’t have wasted their time protecting our rights to hunting guns. That was a given. Plus, if they wanted to protect hunting, they would have said something like, “the right to have a gun to shoot dinner shouldn’t be restricted”. I don’t think the inclusion of the words “Militia”, “free State”, “keep and bear Arms”, and “shall not be infringed” is accidental in any way. I have a law degree and a law license but it doesn’t require either of them to read the simple and plain meaning of the Second Amendment. And for my liberal friends who shout “no means no” when it comes to rape, “not means not” when it comes to infringing on my Second Amendment rights.
I also love liberals who say the Second Amendment only applies to muskets and other “period” firearms. If that’s their logic, then the First Amendment only applies to hand written documents penned with a feather dipped in an inkwell or documents printed on old-school printing presses. If you liberals truly believe the Second Amendment only applies to black powder and other old-school guns, I don’t want to hear a single one of you yapping about your First Amendment rights when it comes to email, documents written on computer, or anything you publish on the Internet. Same goes for anything you say over the telephone.
The final liberal idiocy I will mention here is the idea that “Militia” only applies to government run millitaries. Seriously? Do liberals truly believe that? I guess they skipped out on their high school government classes. Our founders wanted to escape tyrannical government – they didn’t want to create one themselves. Again, if they meant only the government run military would be armed, I am relatively certain they would have written it that way. Our founders knew darn well the average citizen deserved the opportunity to protect themselves. I also think the founders wanted it loud and clear, the government shouldn’t be in the business of picking winners and losers by choosing who should and should not be armed.
I think, bottom line, we’re facing a standoff between those who believe rights are inherent simply by being alive. I’m one of those people. I don’t believe the Constitution grants us rights. I believe the Constitution simply memorializes those rights and then protects them from infringement and encroachment by the government or others. Liberals, on the other hand, believe it is the Constitution document itself which grants rights. Rights which they believe can be taken away simply by editing the document.
I don’t think our founders planned on the liberal interpretation. Our Constitution was signed not long after our Declaration of Independence. Reflect a moment on these words found in the Declaration:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed . . .
That is not the mindset of a group of people saying, “if it ain’t in the document, it doesn’t exist”.
It’s not hard to understand what the Second Amendment means. Our Constitution was written by founders inspired by earlier documents and philosophies. Peruse the Magna Carta and the intent of that document to see the stance against tyranny. Consider the writings of John Locke. Contemplate why the authors of the Constitution opted for a President instead of a King. Reflect on why they established a republic instead of a pure democracy. Look at the Constitution itself and it’s emphasis on federalism. It’s not hard. Seriously, you people should have paid more attention in class when your teacher taught you about our Constitution.
Liberals want to take away or (at a minimum) restrict inherent rights. Conservatives recognize the inherent flaw in the liberal desire to do so. I side with the Conservatives on this issue. I will never understand why liberals want to voluntarily forfeit their own rights and infringe on mine, against my will, for a false sense of security – a modern day 30 pieces of silver.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Gun laws don’t prevent crime. They just constrain and infringe on the rights of the lawful citizens. Criminals will always find a route to obtain guns whether those guns are legally owned or illegally owned. If they can’t find guns, they find other weapons. I highly doubt there will soon be a movement to outlaw knives, baseball bats, pencils, cars, rope, and fists . . . but who knows how far liberals are willing to go in eviscerating our inherent rights and simultaneously converting a huge number law abiding citizens into criminals with nothing more than a stroke of the pen.
A Letter From Washington
Dear Esteemed Member of the Criminal Community:
We want to assure you. Many of us in Washington, D.C. are working quickly and expeditiously to improve the safety of your work places. We are working every day to make sure you can do your jobs safely and without concern. Those 23 executive orders are just the start. We have individuals throughout our agencies and in our legislature actively putting together more and more regulations and laws which will keep you happy and healthy.
For those of you who perform your jobs in or around public schools, we are pleased to confirm they are working very closely with us to assure you the safest possible work environments through the implementation of “Gun Free Zones”. We are hopeful this progress will result in an ongoing reduction of the number of on the job injuries you receive.
As you are aware, we are thwarted at every turn by hateful members of the vast right-wing conspiracy who want nothing more than to assure you encounter armed resistance resulting in damage to your person. Do not worry. We will stop at nothing to end their heartless attempts to derail our efforts. Like our dear leaders before us, we have even used sweet, innocent children to further our cause. Do not be concerned. We promise you we will not do anything to actually improve their safety because that would mean a potential increase in your work place injuries. The media is on our side. Nothing can go wrong.
We take inspiration from Chicago, the shining beacon on the hill, as the example of how gun control makes your lives easier. We know many of you have already moved there because of the safety you experience when performing your criminal endeavours. We have a dream that one day every city, suburb, and rural area of the USSA will offer you the same protections.
Do not be discouraged by the states, localities, and law enforcement officials who will do everything in their power to stop us in our tracks. We will not be halted. We will not be dissuaded. We are a force to be reckoned with. We won’t even let the Constitution stop our efforts.
We also intend to improve your work place safety through a few key pieces of legislation and regulation. By restricting gun ownership and usage, these laws and regulations will immediately convert millions of law abiding citizens into criminals. By spending more time finding and prosecuting those individuals, our government paid law enforcement personnel will have less time to interfere with your work. Yes, it is true, nothing is too good for you, dear criminal. All we ask in return is that you continue to elect us to these powerful positions and make large cash donations to our cause. We are here for you.
Very truly yours,
Your liberal, progressive, socialist, communist and fascist friends in Washington, D.C.
Why I Hate Food Stamps
Not long after my husband and I were married, we moved to St. Louis and rented a small two bedroom apartment one block off a larger through street in the city. The rent was reasonable and we were dirt poor so it seemed too good to be true. A few days after we moved in, we walked a few blocks to a corner market where the owner told us we shouldn’t be in there because we were the wrong skin color and it was too dangerous. We soon came to find out our apartment building was on a corner where the other side of the street was gang territory.
We both were working $4.00/hour jobs. My husband was working in a small business retail establishment and I did temp work when I could. We rarely ate out, we watched every penny, and we didn’t buy anything we didn’t need. In the few months we lived there, my husband’s bike was stolen, my car window was smashed in, and a different car was stolen. Neither of us had any medical insurance, our rent took up most of our after tax money, and we only did free things for entertainment. Despite all of that, we never took a penny of government money.
We shopped at one of those very small inner city markets with a limited selection and bars on the windows. Because we didn’t have a lot of money, we thought long and hard about what to buy. We bought soup, hot dogs, hamburgers, cereal, and other cheap items. There was no opportunity to buy steaks, seafood, or anything gourmet. We often put things back at the last minute just to make sure there’d be enough money.
One day, we were standing in line behind an older women. She was dressed nicely, had lots of gold jewelry, high end shoes, and very fancy nails. I remember being embarrassed about my cheap sneakers, lack of jewelry, and my cheap food selections on the conveyor belt. I had packages of seasoned oriental noodles that cost a quarter each. She had several packages of fancy steaks, a lot of shrimp, and other gourmet goodies. I remember standing there feeling incredibly jealous of what she was able to buy.
When it came time to pay, she reached into her purse, grabbed her wallet, and pulled out several food stamps. She handed about a hundred dollars worth to the clerk and, in doing so, she dropped a food stamp. For some reason I remember the food stamp she dropped as being worth $20 but that detail is a little fuzzy. What I do know is the food stamp slipped between the edge of the conveyor belt and the rest of the checkout area. The clerk, worried, offered to get the manager so they could figure out how to retrieve the food stamp. The lady waived him off saying it was no big deal and that she didn’t need it. There I was behind her, a tax payer, struggling to make ends meet and living paycheck to paycheck. I would have loved to have that $20 food stamp. I would have loved to have a nice steak and shrimp dinner.
It was at that moment I learned to hate food stamps. How incredibly unfair for me to have to eat cheap noodles while paying taxes so that she could eat gourmet food compliments of the government.
Under Obama, the number of people on food stamps has skyrocketed. Yet, there are people like me still pinching our pennies and clipping our coupons while people on food stamps are eating much better than us (while we are paying for it). It’s not fair. It has to stop.
Take a good look at this receipt. It’s real. It’s legal to buy all that stuff, compliments of the taxpayers. Remember this, dear taxpayer, when you vote.
My Appeal to Libertarians
In my heart of hearts I am a Libertarian. I believe the government has one purpose and that purpose is to govern. My definition of govern means to make sure the people are protected from each other (that does not mean to protect them from themselves) and to make sure there are adequate government resources to achieve that goal. I support a military focused on protecting us. I support protecting our borders. I support fire departments. I support laws against murder, robbery, rape and other things. In general, I support the things which help us maintain calm and order.
I do not support government telling me what to eat, forcing me to get a license to marry the person of my dreams, telling me whether or not I can own a firearm, or preventing me from finishing my basement b/c the new building code regulations are too expensive to fulfill.
Do I believe the Democrats have gone way too far in meddling in our lives? Yes. Do I think the Republicans have gone way too far in meddling in our lives? Yes. Do I think we need a lot less “two party” and a lot more Libertarianism? Yes.
Does that mean I am going to vote for a third party candidate on election day? NO.
Here is why. Right now our country is more or less divided when it comes to elections. Divided means split into two halves. Those halves aren’t necessarily equal, but our country is more or less split down the middle. You have Republicans and Democrats. The problem is we’re not really divided. We’re actually broken down further. In between the two big slices of the pie, there is a “third party” which is actually a collection of other political parties which make up a smaller portion of the whole. There are well known political parties in the “third party” such as Independent, Libertarian, Environmental, Tea Party, Communist, and Socialist. There are also less common parties such as Justice, Prohibition, and Labor. The problem with this “third party” is it makes up too small of a fraction of our population to get the traction needed to beat one of the big two.
Note: Before you start sending me emails about my “division” comment . . . depending upon how you look at parties (by registration or by voting) you get difference percentages. In “dividing” the country I based it primarily on the election outcomes for POTUS races which is arguably “divided” in most election years. Yes, I recognize in 1992 Ross Perot had enough votes to make it not a true “division” between the two major parties.
That’s not to say people from other parties can’t win an election. They do win. There just isn’t anyone from any of those other parties who gets the air time necessary to get the required votes in a POTUS election to win. It’s a unfortunate fact.
I have lots of Libertarian friends who are adamant about voting for their candidate. I applaud them for wanting to stand proud and send a message. They are correct. If they don’t vote for their candidate, they’ll never get traction.
HOWEVER.
After contemplating the options in this particular POTUS election, I have decided, no matter how much I believe in the Libertarian ideals, I cannot bring myself to vote for that candidate in this election.
SHOCKING. I KNOW.
Let me tell you why. This election has the potential to tip of the scales in America one way or the other. Not only are we split between Republicans and Democrats; we are also split between makers and takers. We used to be a nation of mostly makers. Now we are a nation where almost half are takers. We are becoming a welfare state. I honestly and sincerely believe, after this election, if the wrong person makes it back into the White House (and you know who I’m talking about) there will be nothing standing in the way of takers overtaking the makers.
Once the amount of people taking becomes more than 50% of our country, the takers will be empowered to take more and more from the makers. The takers will be the majority and they will win every future election we hold. People living off the government have will have no incentive to vote for smaller government or less government intrusion in their lives. We are already a country riddled with socialist programs which are failing. Imagine that administration, with no need to worry about reelection, going for broke (both figuratively and literally). Imagine a minority of makers having to support a majority of takers. We’re almost there.
Romney was correct. How can a candidate who believes in smaller government and cutting programs garner the vote of individuals who are fully or even partially living off the government? The number of people willing to put the needs of the country ahead of the needs of themselves is shrinking rapidly. I feel like I’m one of a dying breed.
Why am I telling you this? Because I ardently want every Libertarian to get behind Romney. Not because I support everything he stands for or agree with everything he has done in the past. I want every Libertarian to vote for Romney because I honestly believe if Romney doesn’t win, the scales will tip and there will never be a chance to put a Libertarian in the White House. Libertarians believe in smaller government. Libertarians have the same challenges getting the “takers” to support their candidates for the same reasons Romney has challenges getting the “takers” to support him.
If this election results in the current administration returning to the White House, it will be “game over” for those of use who are makers and those of us who support smaller government. Libertarians and Conservatives will never have another bite at the White House because too many votes will have been bought with our tax dollars via entitlement programs. Just look at the food stamp numbers and unemployment under the current administration. Just look at the growing infringement on our individual liberties.
As much as I love Libertarian ideals, there is no Libertarian candidate for POTUS who has the votes necessary to win the race. I’d rather see Libertarians vote for Romney if for no other reason than to (hopefully) have a chance in the future to run a candidate who can garner the votes necessary to be the man or woman to make it to the top.
Until that time, I don’t want to see the opportunity for the election of a true small government Libertarian forever sidelined by the takers. That is why I am voting for Romney and that is why I think you should vote for him, too.
Why I Hate Socialism (or What I Learned In Sixth Grade)
The moment I realized I was a conservative, and not a socialist or communist, goes back to before I was even truly aware of political beliefs and the role of government in my country. It goes back to sixth grade. I remember exactly when it happened. Here’s the true story.
My parents had moved the year before and my new school was different. Unlike my old school, the kids at this new school were very worldly. They talked about sex, wore bras, and cursed. I didn’t fit in. Not only was I still considered one of the new kids a year later, I was also the shy, quiet, geeky kid without designer jeans who played in the band and was in the gifted program. It was pretty inevitable that I was socially grouped (against my will) into the nerd group.
My best friend was another of the shy, quiet, geeky kids without designer jeans. We hung with the other gifted kids. We were a lot like the guys on The Big Bang Theory only we were about 20 years younger. The other kids didn’t hate us. We just weren’t cool enough for them and, let’s be honest, we didn’t fit in with them as well as we fit in with each other. The cool kids usually kept their distance from us nerds.
That was, until the dreaded sixth grade group project was assigned. Normally, when the teacher asked us to pair up for classroom activities, everyone picked a friend. Naturally, us geek types would search each other out and become a formidable force. We knew, particularly when paired up, we would be getting a good grade. The annual sixth grade group project didn’t work that way. The teachers grouped us into teams of four. This was when the cool kids suddenly started sucking up to and befriending the nerds.
Us gifted, geeky, nerdy kids were parsed out and distributed. The teachers did their best to make sure each team had a nice “distribution” of intellect on each team. I don’t know if the teachers tried to hide it, but it was so obvious. Each team had one of the gifted kids, two of the average kids, and one of the kids who could probably benefit from revisiting 1st grade even though he or she was 11 or 12 years old.
My team was set, there were four of us. Two boys and two girls. The group project was to pick a subject; thoroughly research it; and then write a paper, do something artistic (like paint a picture, do a diorama, sculpt a figure), and do a presentation. Instead of loving this, this was the project all the nerds hated. This project would be a huge amount of our grade and we were all graded as a team. There were no individual grades. We would all receive the same grade based upon the quality of our projects. Shit.
I can still see the four of us sitting at this blond wood table near the railing overlooking the library below. Three of the cool kids and me, the token nerd. The first thing we had to do was pick a subject. I argued for something interesting and easy for all of us to do well, like a historical figure, a historic event, or perhaps an artist or musician. Unfortunately, I was the nerdy one. The other three were in the “in crowd”. They immediately joined forces, ignored me, and decided on the perfect subject: FOOTBALL! What the hell?
They said they took a vote and it was three to one in favor of football. I didn’t even know there was a vote. Fine, whatever, we’ll go with football. I knew there was zero chance of convincing them otherwise. At this point, one of the guys decided to be the team leader. Apparently, that had been decided with another secret vote. I recommended we all break out the three major things we had to do (paper, presentation, and artistic item) but also divide up the research tasks. The guy who declared himself the group leader took a different approach. I was given the task of doing all the research and they would divide up the paper, presentation, and art project.
Great, the geek gets the boring part. Fine, at least I knew I could shape the content of our project by doing the research. We were all still sitting around the table when they told me to let them know when I was done with my part so they could start theirs. I argued again about how we should all be doing the research so it would go faster. They disagreed. Still, I wanted a good grade on this so I threw myself into the research. I left those three asshats sitting at that table while I went to the library downstairs and started pulling books about football. I later told my teacher about the imbalance and she said it was democracy in action. Democracy in action, my ass, I thought to myself.
Over the next few weeks, I kept asking my team how they were preparing for their sections based upon the research I was pulling and giving to them. They kept telling me how they’d start their parts when I finished mine. All the while I’m really starting to panic over our possible grade. At our group meeting right after I finished my research, I handed over the final copies of what I had found. I was exhausted. I had done some fine research. I had gone to several libraries, read several books, cracked open numerous encyclopedias, watched movies, etc. I had enough history, photos, quotes, biographies, auto biographies, and other materials to sink a football stadium. These three kids had more than enough to write a doctoral dissertation, create a three-hour documentary, and erect a 50 foot diorama.
Instead, the leader looked at me and asked me which of the three big items I wanted to work on. Flabbergasted, I told them I did all the research so I thought I was done. They all said, that wasn’t fair. Fair my ass. Then it hit me. If I let them go it alone I was looking at nothing better than a C for a grade. I had no choice. If I wanted a snowball’s chance in hell of getting an A, I had to keep working. So, I offered to pair up with the one guy to write the paper. While this lazy ass sat there playing tabletop football with one of those folded paper triangles, I wrote the outline, listed some key footnotes, and handed it over. I told him to take what I had given him, write the paper, and then give it to me so I could edit it. I got the paper back the following week. He handed me three written pages, double spaced, and it was all about the Redskins. I could have saved my teacher the effort and scratched out a big, huge F at the top. I told him to try harder. He refused. I rewrote the entire paper all by myself.
The girl who was supposed to do the presentation had put together about 10 index cards. She showed us her 2 minute presentation and it was laughable. She wasn’t a dumb person, she just played one to make sure she stayed in the cool group and kept the attention of the boys. Later, she actually apologized to me and admitted she could have done a lot more. I added another 30-40 index cards and also drew some visuals for use during the presentation.
The other guy, the one doing the “artistic” item actually had a pretty decent model of a football stadium. Half of it looked like an old stadium and half of it looked like a modern stadium. The intent was to show how things had changed over time. It was actually pretty cool. It also had “parental involvement” written all over it. I knew he probably didn’t do more than 10% of the entire model, but I didn’t care. At this point, I was just glad I didn’t have to do it myself.
The big day came. We handed in the paper (which I pretty much wrote entirely by myself), we gave the presentation (which I pretty much wrote entirely by myself with the visuals I created entirely by myself), and we handed in the stadium (which the one guy’s mother obviously did for him). Our final grade? An A. I did almost everything while they hung out talking, playing table top football, and watching me work. Yet, in the end we all received the same grade even though they all deserved an F.
That was the moment I cemented my conservatism. I decided: the students out there busting their asses to EARN an A shouldn’t have to share that grade with the ones who don’t even try. My three team members were like a bunch of lazy socialists/communists, sitting there on their butts waiting to redistribute my good grade. Particularly the self-proclaimed “leader” who assigned me most of the work. I probably put in well over 200 hours on that project and the others probably put in about 4 each (outside of their hanging out during our teacher-mandated team meetings). I swore I would never, ever tolerate something like that ever again. I remember my teacher complimenting my group on our great team work and our fantastic project. She knew damn well I did most of the work yet she never said a word. My three lazy teammates never even said thank you. Apparently, my teacher was a socialist.
Notes about me:
I am a life long conservative. I despise socialism and communism in all its forms. I detest wealth redistribution and I hate the concept of “from each according to their ability, to each according to their need.” I still refuse to do group projects.
The Perfect Comparison Between Rs and Ds
I don’t know who created this, but it’s fantastic. I’d do a little editing if it was mine . . . but the intended message hits it home loud and clear.
https://twitter.com/kesgardner/status/241306640870158336/photo/1/large
Dandelion Socialism
For those of you don’t know me, let me give you some basic information. I am notoriously frugal (some might say cheap). I think paying more than $50 for a pair of shoes is ridiculous, my kids think shopping at Goodwill is like going on a treasure hunt, and I love a good yard sale. As you can imagine, I think paying for lawn services is a big waste of my money. It’s not that I haven’t tried them in the past. I just think it’s way too much money for too little benefit. Instead, I send my husband out a few times a year with a drop spreader and a bag of weed-and-feed. As a result, my lawn is nothing like the lush, golf course-worthy spreads in my neighborhood. But, I’m O.K. with that. Like I tell my husband, I’m low maintenance and so is our lawn. I’m saving money, saving my landscaping (thanks again True Gr**n for the over spray which killed my nice plants), and I’m limiting the amount of toxic crap being spread on my lawn. In my world, that’s a win-win-win.
In my front lawn you will find good grass, bad grass, and a variety of lovely weeds. In my back yard you will find all of that and the occasional dog poop. I really don’t worry too much about the back yard. It’s mostly deck and landscaping so there’s not much grass to worry about. There’s also a lot of shade in my back yard. So, instead of grass, I get moss. Or, in my chosen parlance, lawn velvet. Ergo, the only major concern I have is the front yard. The front yard is the grass the neighbors see and the grass the neighbors might choose to talk about should it become a disaster of jungle proportions.
I really don’t care about too many weeds as long as the yard looks nice and green from the street. As long as the grass is winning (which means it maintains ownership of at least 50% of the lawn), I’m not too stressed. Note: Honey, if you are reading this it does not mean I think the grass should be groin-height before you haul out the lawn mower. There are two main weeds roosting in my front yard and I like them both. Quite frankly, I’d secretly hate to see them leave. The first of the two weeds is clover. I rather like the little three-leaved harbingers of spring and leprechauns. More importantly, one of the clover patches is a mutant patch which shoots forth a stunningly high percentage of four-leaved and five-leaved varieties. (Go ahead, blame it on Three Mile Island being about 25 miles from my house.) The other main weed I have is dandelion. I LOVE dandelions. Whether it’s the origin of their name being French for “tooth of the lion” or their perky yellow color . . . I really like them. I hate considering their demise every time we put down the occasional weed killer and I am secretly happy when they survive the attempted poisoning. When my husband offers to take a spray bottle of “the good stuff” to the individual plants, I always ask him to forebear and try to buy myself some time by offering a better and “less toxic” solution.
Enter my children, stage left. They are my “less toxic” solution. Instead of poisoning my lawn (and possibly my kids and dog) I have implemented a “Penny-A-Posy” program in my front yard. My kids get paid a penny for every yellow dandelion they pick. They get nothing for the white ones. Too late, kids, the seeds are already spread across the lawn and mommy doesn’t want to keep paying more than she has to. Remember, mommy is cheap, cheap, cheap, cheap, cheap. Besides, only the yellow ones really give away mommy’s little weed secret.
Now, let me tell you a little about my two kids. My daughter is about eight and a half. She is smart, diligent, hard-working, caring, compassionate, and likes to go shopping. She is conscientious and the perfect posy picking employee. Contrast her with my almost-seven year old son. He is charming, lazy, always up for a good time, hates to do anything he’s told, and is a “hard work is for suckers” kind of kid. He is funny and a sweetheart, but when it comes to work he is the antithesis of his sister. Watching them work together towards a common goal is a wonder to behold.
When the outside temperature and the rainfall totals are in sync; the number of lion toothed, yellow dandies in my front yard can go from almost nothing to a yellow-brick-road effect. This usually happens overnight and by the next morning I’m torn between not giving a crap (and enjoying their sunny appearance) and worrying about the neighbors using my yard as a topic of conversation at their next family dinner. I admit it. I do occasionally fold to social pressure. When I do, I remind my kids of the “Penny-A-Posy” contract.
My kids will immediately spring into action. (Please don’t tell my kids they should ask for more money for each flower. Remember, I’m cheap.) My daughter flies through the yard like the shadow of dandelion death pulling them out without remorse. My son wanders aimlessly trying to remember where he might have left his basketball, army men, and cars the last time he was playing with them in the front yard.
After strip mining the front yard, my daughter will run into the house, breathless from the exertion. Not only will she bring in a bunch of flowers for me to count, she will also have them artfully collected into a lovely little dent-de-lion bouquet. Being good on my word, I willingly count them out one by one and calculate her payment. Around the same time, her brother will mosey into the house, still wondering where he left his favorite race car. He won’t even break a sweat on a 100 degree day. He will hand over a scant amount of flowers all mutilated into a mass of little yellow bits and pieces. Being good on my word, I will painstakingly divide them out and count every one. I do not discriminate. I do not play favorites. Everything is on the up and up. There is no need to contact the Department of Labor. I also offer free benefits and some pretty nifty incentives to these short people. So, no need to alert the union authorities, either.
After counting their collections, the ratio of flowers between my daughter and son usually turns out to be something like 5 to 1. My daughter always beams when I announce how many she collected and how much money she earned. Her smugness might be off-putting to some people, e.g., liberals; but, hey, she earned every single penny. Her brother, on the other hand, devolves into a whimpering mass of “that’s not fair, she gets more than me!!!” diatribe. So, the last time we did this, I decided, like the good pro-capitalism mother that I am, to teach them a lesson.
My kids always stand side by side as I count out their quarry. On this particular day, I told my daughter she had earned 52 cents for her efforts. She beamed through her sweat covered brow; proud of her hard work and accomplishments. She was, probably, simultaneously calculating how many more she would need to earn a new pair of earrings. I then told my son he had earned 11 cents for his efforts. He stood there slack-jawed as if he couldn’t believe I could be so dense as to not realize there were a least a thousand in his hand. As expected, the whining express immediately left the station.
“MMMMMMMOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM, it’s not fair. I only get 11 cents and she gets 52 cents.”
I patiently explained to him that his sister had picked 41 additional flowers. That was why she was getting 41 additional cents. At this point, his sister is looking vainglorious and he is looking like the guy who kicked a bad field goal with ten seconds left on the clock. I listened intently to his excuses as to why he couldn’t pick as many as his sister. I heard woeful stories about being distracted by the sun in his eyes, the toy car he found in the grass, and the basketball net which was desperate for a short person to shoot a few hoops so it wouldn’t die of loneliness. It was the classic embodiment of the ant and the grasshopper.
Note: Now the hard-core pro-capitalist (posing as a socialist) in me came out fighting. 
Playing a text-book perfect socialist, I commiserated with the sullen and downtrodden boy. I pointed out that he had, obviously, been hampered by his environment. (Please recall that both children had the exact same environment in which to work.) I demanded someone address this inequality! I claimed his sister was born with a stronger work ethic and that it just wasn’t fair. I declared that the boy was hampered by a desire to explore other interests instead of working. I said someone needed to make things fair. I pronounced the boy a victim and said his sister must not be unjustly benefited from her hard work! I said we needed to protest and I suggested we occupy something! I cried out for someone to take care of the helpless boy. I told the boy he was being punished with a paltry paycheck of a mere eleven cents. I told him his sister was the enemy, enriched as she was with a burgeoning paycheck of a huge 52 cents. I insisted we enforce an equality of outcome (even though they both had equality of opportunity).
Note. This was actually turning out to be a great adventure in both parenting and teaching the kids about government and politics.
I suggested we add up the earnings and give it all back to me. I told them I was going to take a cut for myself (to cover the expenses of administering the program – of course) and then I would divide up and redistribute the difference between the two of them.
I calculated it for them. I’d take the 52 cents from the girl and the 11 cents from the boy. That would give me 66 cents. (The total amount was perfect since I would be able to easily split it three ways. I swear God was up there rooting me on the whole time.) I told them I would take one-third of the amount because I was the government and that was my share of their income. I told my daughter she would get one-third and my son would also get one-third. My son asked how many cents he would be getting. I told him he’d be getting 22 cents.
Now, before I continue I need to give you all a little insight on my daughter. As I said before, she’s a caring and compassionate child. When she was younger, she wanted to know why Obama couldn’t just give everyone a bunch money so they wouldn’t be hungry or not have a place to live. Some wanted to know why some people didn’t have nice clothes to wear. She wanted to know why some kids didn’t have toys at Christmas. Let me tell you, it was hard to explain the differences between bad luck and laziness. I explained that not everyone without a home and not everyone going to bed hungry was in that situation because of laziness. However, I told her, some were. The challenge was determining the difference between the two and helping the ones who were trying to help themselves or those who couldn’t help themselves. That was when I told my daughter about the charities I support, like Special Olympics and Dress for Success. I told her, the private industry was the correct place for charity, not the government. I discussed how the government was supposed to govern, not be a philanthropic organization. I think she got my point . . . but now was the chance to prove my point.
So, back to the dandelion story.
When my son realized he was getting 22 cents, he whooped and hollered and did a silly little dance. He was so happy. He was doubling his money and he didn’t have to do anything to get it. My daughter, on the other hand, being a math whiz, immediately saw the flaw in this approach. “Wait a minute!”, she screamed, “that means I’m getting 30 cents less than I earned!!!!” As you can imagine, she was incensed. She was furious. She was indignant. She was stomping around instead of doing the happy dance her brother was doing. She wanted to know how I, her loving, mother, would cheat her out of 30 cents just to make sure her bother didn’t walk away with only 11 cents. She wanted to know why I would take a third of her earnings and keep it for myself. She wanted to know why she couldn’t keep every penny she earned. She wanted to know why her brother was getting some of what she worked so hard to earn. She wanted to know why her bother deserved anything other than the 11 cents he earned. While she was voicing her disapproval, her brother stood there repeatedly shouting to his sister it was because it wasn’t fair for her to get more than him just because she collected more flower heads. Still elated from the realization he was getting free stuff, my son told me, as he hugged and kissed me, I was the “bestest” and most beautiful mommy in the whole wide world. (Note: Think about it, all I had to do to earn his gushing praise and adoration was to take something from a person who rightfully earned it (and deserved to keep it) and give it to him. Yay, me. I am so awesome.)
I reminded my daughter of the charity discussion we had a while ago, the one about the difference between bad luck and laziness. I asked her to assess her brother’s status. She (correctly) assessed her bother as lazy. He didn’t work hard. He barely even tried. He played while she worked. He moseyed around looking for lost toys while she snapped up the dandelions. He shot baskets while she arranged the yellow flowers into a nice little bouquet. Suddenly, a light bulb went off in her head. She finally “got it”.
She summarized it pretty accurately. She said I was like the government. She said her brother was like someone on welfare. She realized she was like the taxpayer. She turned to me and asked, “Mommy, doesn’t it make you mad when the government takes your money and gives it to people who didn’t earn it?” My response, “Welcome to the TEAparty, my dear. We can check to see if they’re accepting junior members.”
My son, on the other hand, if not given proper guidance, could easily turn out to be a socialist. He really was fond of the concept of redistribution of wealth (as long as it was not his) and not having to do much to earn it. My daughter now has a firm grasp of the fiscal conservative’s view of fairness, which is “you deserve to keep what you earn and not have the government take it away and give it to others (although you can choose to give it away yourself)”. My son still has the fiscal liberal’s view of fairness, “as long as it’s someone else’s money, let’s have the government continue taking it away and spreading it around”. The good thing is, I now have one more fiscal conservative in the house and there’s still plenty of time for my son to come around. I have eleven years before he’s old enough to vote. Wish me luck. Then again, I don’t think it will take that long. One day, when he has worked the hardest and is the one with the most dandelions, I’m pretty sure he’ll suddenly have a completely different point of view.
The Assault Weapon Fairy Tale
The fairy tale goes something like this . . .
Once upon a time, a big, black, scary-looking semi-automatic assault weapon lived in the deep dark woods. Every day, he would prowl the paths looking for victims. One day, a sweet, innocent, dainty little girl with a posh red-hooded cape happened along carrying a basket full of organic, grain-free healthy goodness for her ailing grandmother. The big, black, scary-looking assault weapon shot the girl. The end.
It’s a fairy tale the pro gun control lobby loves to tell. However, it’s just a fairy tale. The big, black, scary-looking assault weapon is an inanimate object. It does not live in the woods, it does not prowl, it does not shoot. Only a person can live somewhere, do something, and pull a trigger.
I could just as easily rewrite their fairy tale and replace the antagonist with an aluminum baseball bat, a finely crafted carbon steel steak knife, or a pair of fists. However, those other antagonists don’t make for good media coverage. They aren’t as scary looking as a rifle with lots of extra black molding and a pistol grip. Those other antagonists don’t elicit an emotional response.
Here’s how the fairy tale should go . . .
Once upon a time, a person was walking in the woods carrying an assault weapon. He came upon a group of bird watchers in a clearing searching for the Red-whiskered Bulbul. He pulls his weapon, aims it towards the bird watchers, and prepares to do the unthinkable. One of the bird watchers espies him at a distance aiming the weapon. The bird watcher notifies the others of the man with the weapon. The man with the assault weapon opens fire. One of the other bird watchers pulls out his legally owned self defense weapon and ends the confrontation immediately. An untold number of lives are saved and everyone spared an early death lives happily ever after. The end.
However, if the gun control lobby gets its way, that man with the legally owned self defense weapon wouldn’t be armed and the tragedy would have unfolded with a large number of lives lost. Every time I hear about these massive shootings in gun-free zones I can’t help but think how differently things might have ended and how many lives might have been saved had there been one hero in the crowd who knew how to shoot and was armed to do so.
I have lots of friends who used to be anti-gun but who at one time found themselves in a precarious position. One of them was the victim of a break-in. One of them was mugged on a city street. One of them had a friend die in a shooting. They all now own a gun (legally I might add). They realize how owning a gun and being prepared can help you rewrite the ending of the fairy tale. They no longer are willing to be victims. None of us should be willing to be victims. The gov’t shouldn’t be writing the end of the story for us good guys.
Laws Don’t Stop Criminals with Guns – They Never Have and They Never Will
When tragedies happen, and they inevitably do, there is always a bandwagon of individuals who rush to the podium to demand more laws. Harsher laws. Broader laws. More oppressive laws. In the emotional aftermath of tragedies, particularly ones where innocent people lost their lives, the general public are prone to throw themselves onto that bandwagon – pitchforks in hand – demanding that “something be done”. Since it is impossible to resurrect the victims and undo the hideous acts which caused their deaths, the only option for many appears to be “batten down the hatches” to make sure it never happens again. When a killer uses a gun, the gun control supporters burst through the woodwork and start the hysterical accusations – “guns are the cause of all this violence!”, “if it wasn’t for guns, this wouldn’t have happened”, “we need to get all the guns off the street”, “we need to make sure only police have guns”. The demands go on and on. Each one more warped with emotion than the one which came before.
Unfortunately, whether the gun control pundits like it or not, inanimate objects don’t kill people on their own. A car must be driven (or otherwise operated or maintained improperly) to cause a death. A knife must be wielded or positioned intentionally to cause a death. Yes, a ladder can slip . . . but a person placed it. Yes, a pencil can puncture a hand . . . but it does not, in and of its own accord, jump from a prone position and stab someone. Can an earthquake bring a house tumbling down, causing deaths? Yes, of course. Acts of nature happen. However, a gun being fired is rarely, if ever, an act of nature. There is always a human being involved.
A gun is just a tool. Just as a pair of scissors, a hammer, a tire iron, a broken bottle, and a chair are tools. Weilded for evil purposes, any one of those items can be used to cause death. The list of things a human being can chose to use to cause a death is without limit. Human beings are crafty individuals. Cars, poisons, snakes, dogs, bows and arrows, screw drivers, sticks, spears, rocks, pipes, wires, ropes. All of them are just tools. Nothing more than inanimate objects. Yet, every time a gun is used, the gun is the item to blame.
Every day, innocent people lose their lives in car accidents. Unfortunately, I’ve known a few myself. In those circumstances nobody saunters up to the podium demanding all cars be outlawed. We don’t see media pundits swarming the microphones to demand cars be removed from the streets to keep everyone safe. Yet, have a gun be used to cause death and the “hot topic” button is pushed. Media outlets flash the news across the screen, “reporters” parade a series of gun control advocates before the TV audience to speak their minds and give their warnings, and talk show hosts ask the government “what are you going to do to make sure this never, ever happens again?”
Unfortunately, politicians can’t really do anything to make sure it never, ever happens again. To make absolutely sure, the government would need to lock everyone up under 24/7 surveillance. I can only hope most politicians see this as a draconian measure or at least, at a minimum, too costly to implement. So ,instead, to assuage the outraged populace, look proactive, and hopefully score future votes; the politicians do what they do best: pass more laws.
We already have laws on the books which say murder and manslaughter are illegal. These laws are pretty unnecessary if you ask me. Most people already know it’s wrong to kill someone. However, they are on the books to deter murder by saying 1) we as a community will not accept this as a legal act and 2) if you do it and we catch you we will punish you. Unfortunately, even these most basic of laws don’t actually PREVENT murder. At best, they only deter. Ask any police officer you know. If laws worked, they’d have nothing to do. Also ask them the ratio of crimes they prevent to crimes they address after the commission. Police don’t prevent most crimes. Particularly murders because most of them are committed where people cannot see the act.
These basic laws (don’t murder, don’t commit manslaughter) are enough. However, when people are in an emotional turmoil they don’t think logically. They start demanding more laws. They want the government to go further. They want to government to not only constrain the bad people. They now want to constrain the good people. This is because the people demanding these new laws (usually liberals in my experience) view every good person as a potential bad person. In their minds, only by restricting the rights and freedoms of all people will be government be able to guarantee safety and security for all.
However, here’s what happens when you restrict gun ownership beyond just the bad guys. You create a new class of people. You create victims. Individuals who have been unarmed and who can no longer defend themselves from the bad guys. Don’t get me wrong, if we could pass laws which would actually prevent crime, I’d be all behind it. However, theory and reality don’t jive. Laws don’t prevent. Laws don’t protect. Laws only deter.
I had a phenomenal law professor who is one of the most brilliant people I have ever met. I had him for both criminal law and white collar crime courses. He showed us a bell curve. On one end of the curve were the 100% guilty. On the other end of the curve were the 100% innocent. In comparing the standard of evidence in a criminal case compared to a civil case, he showed us how the standard in a criminal case is significantly higher. The intent of the higher standard was to make sure innocent people were allowed to remain free, i.e., not be punished or go to jail. EVEN IF that meant letting some guilty people go. He argued, it was reprehensible to constrain the freedoms of the innocent just to make sure no guilty individuals were allowed to go free.
I think this is the stance we need to take with gun control. If the gun control lobby gets their way, the rights and freedoms of the innocent will be constrained. Since no law ever stopped a determined criminal (if they did we’d never hear of a rape, murder, or shoplifting case) we need to make sure no more unnecessary laws are passed which only serve to disarm the good guys. In fact, it would be a good measure to also repeal all of the unnecessary, freedom-restricting laws which are already on the books.
These mass shootings seem to happen in gun-free zones. I would much rather see the good guys take down the bad guy and save as many lives as possible. Unfortunately, the good guys are the only ones who obey the laws and in gun-free zones the good guys have been disarmed. Leaving the bad guys to mete out terror until their ammunition runs out. It’s time to re-evaluate gun laws and rearm the good guys in all locations.
Recovering attorney, IT manager, business and web consultant, opera singer, voice teacher, belly dancer, artist, geek, Mensa, adoptive parent, Special Olympics volunteer, graphic designer, trout fly designer, foodie, hunter, fisher, brewer, balloon twister, patriot, fiscally conservative, socially libertarian, snarky. #tcot
