More of the brand new day. Apparently, we are ushering in a monarchy.

King Obama is ready to “begin to rule on Day One.”

(HT Michelle Malkin)

Posted by Kimberly on November 10, 2008 | Permalink

I sure am looking forward to my free gas and someone paying my mortgage for me.

What's that, Rick? Are you talking about redistributing my hard earned money? And that of other Americans who work for a living?

We have been guided by a Republican administration who believes in the simplistic notion that people who have wealth are entitled to keep it and they have an antipathy towards redistributing wealth and they may be able to sustain it for a while but it doesn’t work in the long run.

Obama supporter Young Jeezy, who worked the phone banks for his savior before Election Day, and who is also the songwriter of the super racially healing tune “My President Is Black” (warning: offensive language), seems to be looking forward to everything being fair.

I am feeling the love. I've woken up to a brand new day indeed.

Woke Up This Morning Headache THIS BIG! Pay All These Damn Bills Feed All These Damn Kids Buy All These School Shoes Buy All These School Clothes For Some Strange Reason My Son Addicted To Polos Love Me Some Spinach Dip Im Addicted To Use This

Posted by Kimberly on November 10, 2008 | Permalink

The American Thinker. If Obama wins, the left wing of the Democratic Party will have no effective opposition, and it will be able to do all of the following, most of which Obama and his allies have already explicitly promised to do:

* Massively raise taxes on all productive people, including and especially the middle class, solely for the purpose of redistributing Americans' wealth (anyone who doubted Obama's identity as a radical redistributionist has been disabused of that illusion after Obama's just-discovered 2001 radio talk);

* By Presidential decree, eliminate every single state restriction on abortion, including late term abortion, "partial birth" abortion, parental notification for minors, and the right of physicians to refuse to perform abortions for reasons of conscience;

* Drive talk radio off the air, thereby grossly reducing free expression and eliminating one of the most important private sphere checks on government power;

* Appoint activist United States Supreme Court Judges, who, like the judges Obama supports in Massachusetts and California, will impose homosexual marriage on the entire country, against the will of the people in virtually every state;

* Permanently alter the socio-economic, cultural, and political makeup of our country, by leaving our border to the south open, halting ongoing federal efforts to encourage return of illegals to their countries of origin, and, worst of all, granting fast-track citizenship to illegals; and

* Intensify the ongoing use of our public education system as a tool for the indoctrination, rather than education, of our children; and

* Project a world-wide image of timidity and self-doubt that will only encourage our enemies, as Joe Biden said, to "test" our weak president, thereby increasing the probability of attacks on America and our allies, all of which makes war more, not less, likely under an Obama Presidency.

Read it all.

The Founding Fathers on Redistribution.

Posted by Kimberly on October 28, 2008 | Permalink

What in the world What in the world does a performing horse from early 20th-century Germany have to do with the 2008 presidential election?

The Polls are Crap

Posted by Kimberly on October 21, 2008 | Permalink

I stayed up late last night reading The Boy in the Striped Pajamas. And what comes to mind when I see this creepy photo of a weepy Obamabot is Bruno's cryptic statement, "We should never have let the Fury come to dinner."

One of the funnier comments on "The New O-Face" over at Dirty Harry's Place:

"I’d like someone to explain why it’s women of a certain age - the boomer demographic, by and large, whose response to Obama and messianic Democratic political convulsons in general - is so clearly tied to some kind of sublimated sexual issue."

Is there really that empty of a space inside of some of us?

(And, to venture into the tall crass here, why fill it up with some effete metrosexual squirrel?)

Posted by Kimberly on October 21, 2008 | Permalink

From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.

Barack Obama or Karl Marx?

Looking out my window at the pine and the pinon trees and the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, I'm sure this is not France. Well, not yet, anyway. Unless the unwashed Obamabots have their way, seeing as how they apparently don't have a clue about the danger lurking in Obama's collectivism, wealth redistribution ideology, "creeping socialism" (Ronald Reagan), and class-warfare rhetoric.

I'll take these guys over Karl and The Messiah any day...

To take from one because it is thought that his own industry and that of his father’s has acquired too much, in order to spare to others, who, or whose fathers, have not exercised equal industry and skill, is to violate arbitrarily the first principle of association—the guarantee to every one of a free exercise of his industry and the fruits acquired by it. Thomas Jefferson

That some should be rich, shows that others may become rich, and, hence, is just encouragement to industry and enterprise. Abraham Lincoln

“Americans ought to be able to ask Senator Obama tough questions without being smeared and targeted with political attacks.”

Posted by Kimberly on October 17, 2008 | Permalink

Wall Street Journal. Obama's 95% Illusion--It depends on what the meaning of 'tax cut' is

Looks like what the One told Joe the Plumber about spreading the wealth around is true--

The Tax Foundation estimates that under the Obama plan 63 million Americans, or 44% of all tax filers, would have no income tax liability and most of those would get a check from the IRS each year. The Heritage Foundation's Center for Data Analysis estimates that by 2011, under the Obama plan, an additional 10 million filers would pay zero taxes while cashing checks from the IRS. Read it all.

Posted by Kimberly on October 17, 2008 | Permalink

As a private citizen, I guess you'd better not be asking The Messiah any probing questions, even when he comes to your neighborhood and randomly picks you from the line ... or else. He. Will. Destroy. You.

Or maybe when he's elected, send you off to a ... er ... re-education camp.

What We Can Learn from the Joe the Plumber Episode. They want to discredit the man who only asked the question as if he’s some political operative who magically forced Obama to sound … well, a little like a Marxist. Why? They want to distract people from Obama’s answer by sliming the man Obama picked at random to ask a question.

Indeed.

So what have we learned from this episode?

1. Thou shalt not offend The One by asking him a question. Of any kind.
2. Anyone who questions The One will have to undergo a public pillorying of a kind unseen since the Red Scare, or perhaps the Inquisition.
3. The Tanning-Bed Media will happily participate in any inquisition, as long as it keeps them from investigating irrelevant issues like Obama’s ties to the Chicago Machine, William Ayers, ACORN, or his record on protecting infanticide. Read it all.

Operation Destroy Joe the Plumber.

Posted by Kimberly on October 17, 2008 | Permalink

After Targeting Joe the Plumber, Obamabots Pledge To Expose Scandals of Guy in Rockwell's 'Four Freedoms' Painting.

This is the way our opponents operate now. Destroy anyone who stands in your way. Humiliate them. Make sure that anyone else who ever wants to skeptically question Barack Obama knows that every last bit of their dirty laundry will be aired for all the world to see. Bristol Palin, Trig Palin, — hey, it's all fair game. They've got to make an example of them. Show them that this sort of dangerous speech won't be allowed in the New America.

Remember the man in the plaid shirt, standing at the town meeting in one of Norman Rockwell's "Four Freedoms" paintings? He wouldn't recognize this country anymore.

We had a coffee table book of Norman Rockwell's paintings in our home when I was a girl. I always loved this one in particular.

I'm having a hard time recognizing my country these days. What the ... ?!

Posted by Kimberly on October 16, 2008 | Permalink

Obama, Joe the plumber, and the gospel of envy--A call to 'spread the wealth' around is an old – and dangerous – theme.

How about ... socialism? We don't need no stinkin' socialism here, thank you very much. Socialism reeks. Of envy.

Senator Obama, in a rare moment of candor, all but told "Joe the plumber" that his wealth should be seized in the name of equity. Their personal encounter this past Sunday played out one of the old themes of democratic politics: the appeal to the many to take from the few. It's traditionally an easy sell in democratic regimes.

Despite Obama's implication to the contrary, however, it doesn't represent much in the way of change.

The personal income tax, the federal government's main source of revenue, is collected overwhelmingly from a relative handful of Americans. Indeed, the most recent IRS data shows that the top 1 percent of filers paid nearly 40 percent of all income taxes. That means the top 1 percent paid about the same as the bottom 95 percent, according to the Tax Foundation, a nonpartisan research group. The bottom 50 percent paid just 3 percent.

Given that poorer citizens always outnumber the rich, political philosophers have long worried that government based on majority rule could lead to organized theft from the wealthy by the democratic masses. "If the majority distributes among itself the things of a minority, it is evident that it will destroy the city," Aristotle warned. Read it all.

Posted by Kimberly on October 16, 2008 | Permalink

There. Will. Be. Lipstick.

Now that's some straight shooting. These are things that have needed to be said for some time. The One seems to think that for some reason or other, he's exempt from these hard questions, from this investigation into exactly who he is.

I'm proud of Sarah for having the stuff to do so.

Posted by Kimberly on October 6, 2008 | Permalink

I would like to have been in Albuquerque to see this. Those folks sound rather angry.

Sub Prime Loans, engineered by the democrats and Barack Obama and Acorn --

Posted by Kimberly on October 6, 2008 | Permalink

Obama and ’60s Bomber: A Look Into Crossed Paths, New York Times. “I don’t think there’s a statute of limitations on terrorist bombings,” Mr. Chapman said in an interview, speaking not of the law but of political and moral implications.

"Well, I was reading my copy of today's New York Times and I was really interested to read about Barack's friends from Chicago," Palin told the crowd. "Turns out, one of his earliest supporters is a man who, according to The New York Times was a domestic terrorist and part of a group that, quote, 'launched a campaign of bombings that would target the Pentagon and the U.S. Capitol.' These are the same guys who think patriotism is paying higher taxes. This is not a man who sees America as you and I do -- as the greatest force for good in the world. This is someone who sees America as imperfect enough to pal around with terrorists who targeted their own country. This, ladies and gentlemen, has nothing to do with the kind of change anyone can believe in -- not my kids and not your kids."

Posted by Kimberly on October 5, 2008 | Permalink

Palin Speaks to Thousands in Carson. Palin was introduced by Shelly Mandell, president of the Los Angeles Chapter of the National Organization for Women, who described herself as a lifelong Democrat.

In rarity for a Republican event, Mandell bragged about her efforts campaigning for the failed Equal Rights Amendment in the 1970s and her support for Geraldine Ferraro, the Democratic vice presidential nominee in 1984.

"I know Sarah Palin cares about women's rights," Mandell said. "As vice president, she will fight for you. She cares about our children and she cares about women's lives."

Posted by Kimberly on October 5, 2008 | Permalink

New Scientist. Is it really true that the harder you work, the sooner you die? If you are a bumblebee, says an Australian biologist, the answer is, yes.

Ralph Cartar, now at the Australian Museum in Sydney, studied Canadian bumblebees (Bombus melanopygus). He found that workers that make the most foraging trips die earlier than their more slothful peers. Their wings simply wear out (Journal of Animal Ecology, vol 61, p 225).

It rained all night long. Here in the high desert, even where we are at 7,000 feet and in the foothills of the Pecos, that's an unusual night.

I woke up several times, pulling the goose down comforter up to my nose, peering out the windows I'd left thrown wide open the better to enjoy the weather. A cold breeze blew through the windows. I could hear the rain hissing outside. It wandered around my back yard like a silver ghost up to no good.

I worried about the horses, although they are getting their winter coats. I worried the most about the little bees. Jack Bauer has engineered a pretty incredible insulation system for their hives, but we won't be strapping those onto their houses until mid-November, at least that's our best guess now. I did not worry about the tenacious heeler dogs snoring at the foot of the bed. Our 12-year-old daughter did appear at one point throughout the night, to let me know that the rain was keeping her up. Indeed. We are desert dwellers.

Early this morning, I go down to take a look. The horses are fine. Muddy. A little cranky. Angry at me because I've had the audacity to show up half an hour late. And the wild bees, the Carniolans, and the Italians are all involved in their usual early morning activity.

The guards, every morning that I've been sitting nearby to observe, unceremoniously drag the bodies of their dead hive members to the front stoop and kick them off. Pitch them off, actually. Where they are carted off by dung beatles and other scavengers and eaten with great relish, I suppose.

No niceties here in the bee world, thank you very much. I've come to think of mornings observing bees as "Bring Out Your Dead!" Just like Monty Python, yes. I find myself smirking occasionally, in spite of myself. Because apparently I have a twisted sense of humor, even when it comes to what I'm beginning to see as some of the most precious of god's creatures. Bees are not always cute, they are about, actually, as far removed as one could get from Walt Disney. But then most things worth having and being a part of are not adorable all the time. It's the whole yin and yang thing that makes life interesting. The dark and the light, with a spot of the opposite in each.

The done in bees I saw piled up on the front stoops this morning might have died from the cold overnight, done in by the spectre of rain. Or as I've been reading recently, and as I've observed on some of the more industrious members of my hives, their little wings just wear out, and then they ... expire.

Funny, when I get down or kind of tired these days, as I am now a bona fide bee keeper, I think of myself as having my wings wearing out. Just a bit. Every now and then we all get a little thin. And then I surprise myself by still being able to take flight.

I saw a couple of Jack Rabbits while I was out there this morning near the bee hive too.

Posted by Kimberly on October 5, 2008 | Permalink

"Pray as though everything depended on God. Work as though everything depended on you." Saint Augustine

My father in law likes to say that when you cut your own wood, as we do here in the Pecos mountains of Northern New Mexico, it warms you three times--once when you cut it, twice when you split it, and three when you burn it!

With the French Prime Minister saying the world is "on the edge of the abyss" (that sounds terribly French), I am warmed yet again to look out my windows and see the four cords of juniper and pinon wood we've cut and split this year.

Jack Bauer felled 26 trees a couple of Saturdays ago (our eleven year old son Cole was counting), and the kids and I filled up the back of the pickup truck plus a trailer. I've never been so exhausted in my life, although it is fun to get to yell "timber".

I know what it's like to be cold.

The farmhouse I grew up in was 250 years old, near Lake Erie, in rural Ohio. To give you an idea of how cold it could be, once in highschool, I missed a full month of school due to snow. It seemed to blizzard non stop for days and days, with the wind chill off the lake sometimes getting to 65 below. It was a frigid place. We occasionally had ice inside our old windows, kind of like what Whitehorsepilgrim describes about the winters in his childhood home. We wore long johns all winter long, slept in flannel sheets and heavy quilts my mom sewed together from fabric scraps, and I recall an Icelandic wool sweater I wore both during the day and to bed. Our heating oil tank in the basement was always full, but we had to use it sparingly.

My first husband was too lazy to head to the mountains for wood, and one hard gray winter, I recall regular dumpster diving at Santa Fe construction sites for junk wood to burn in the two wood burning stoves of my Pojoaque valley adobe. In retrospect, that was my own private adobe version of the McMansions that drive me wild, especially in light of what people living beyond their means with their sub prime loans has gotten us into as I write this. I got talked into it by someone to whom appearances were everything. And appearances were so important that he couldn't be seen chopping wood. Never mind if we couldn't afford firewood (or furniture) after we barely made the mortgage payment. Sometimes my two kids were in the truck when I made these dumpster forays for firewood, snugged up in their car seats in their winter coats and coveralls from the second hand store, while mom did what she had to do to keep them warm.

We have neighbors who just moved into our area from San Francisco, and we've spent some time this late summer and early autumn helping them learn how to chop their own wood, which has been an eye opening experience for these two city slicker women who've decided to relocate to our wild and wooly part of the world. They've been delighted to learn how to use our wood splitter this year. In fact, it's currently sitting over at their place next to their growing woodpile. Sure beats splitting it by hand.

I guess I just don't want to see anybody cold. If the abyss is yawning, although I'm not entirely prepared to become French and do the whole chicken little thing yet, then Jack and the kids and I will be building a good warm fire on its gaping edge.

Posted by Kimberly on October 3, 2008 | Permalink

``Say it ain't so, Joe, there you go again pointing backward,'' Palin said at one point. ``Now, doggone it, let's look ahead and tell Americans what we have to plan to do for them in the future.''

Well done!

Palin the Populist. Joe Biden was no match for "Joe Six-Pack."

Posted by Kimberly on October 3, 2008 | Permalink

Ahem. And that's all I have to say on this topic today.

Anne's got a good story ...

Posted by Kimberly on October 2, 2008 | Permalink

She's waiting at the gate when I go down to feed my five horses this morning.

She's a little sorrel mare with a big big blaze and a big desire to live over here at my house apparently and not in the scrubby field next door.

I look at my watch and realize that I have a whole 10 minutes for me to feed my own horses, jump into my work clothes that have been laid out on my bed for the last hour, and make the dash to get the kids to school in Santa Fe. I can't lead her back home, wrangle with all of the barbed wire twisted around the back gate of her dirt and weeds pasture, and return her where she belongs as the clock is ticking down.

She gazes at me with her large, resolute eyes. They have that softness about them that makes you really like a little horse like this. You see, we know each other now. She's come visiting before. Defecting from Mr. H.'s place. Mr. H., the puffed up banty rooster of a man who has a terrible reputation, so I hear, on the race track, and whose horses I've had to feed during a few bad spells when he just simply ... forgot. Sometimes I think he's playing chicken with me. If his horses get skinny enough, he's pretty sure I'll feed them for him. I suspect he thinks I'm rich and I can afford it.

What a rat. A rat with a cubic zirconia horseshoe ring he brandishes about as he brags and boasts about this and that while Jack Bauer and I do our best to be nice, and keep our mouths shut about what we really think, because no doubt Mr. H. has a bunch of relatives about.

So, with a big sigh, I go feed my five their alfalfa and then get myself a lead rope. No halter necessary. Miss Doe Eyes knows I won't hurt her and that our interactions have been positive, with the exception of the small fact that each time I return her from whence she came, even though I'd rather not. Where she and her pasture mate are not fed all that well. Yes, I can see a few of her ribs, but she's not in starvation territory. Not yet. And with the economy going south, I can't afford another mouth around here.

She lets me slip the lead rope over her head. It's the same movement she uses to slip beneath the single strand of barbed wire Mr. H. uses as his back ... er ... fence. You see, she's let me in on her secret, because she sneaked under the fence like that the first day I led her back and was wrangling with the rusted gate at the back of Mr. H.'s place. It's heartaching how she puts her head down for me, quite submissive, very trusting, all relaxed. I know I shouldn't be doing this, but I think about the freight trains and the Amtrak that run behind my little ranch on a regular basis. I think about the fact that her path of travel from her pasture to mine runs right along the tracks, along the top of both properties, and then down. To where there's water. And lots of food. And, I'm rubbing her forehead now, apparently a kind hand and a friendly face.

Maybe it's just my imagination. But I think she'd rather live here.

Once an ugly black dog in the Pojoaque Valley, one with a huge square block head and menacing jowls and amber eyes, decided that he'd rather live with me, and he did, for many years. But in that case, it was just a little dog chow. And my own naivete. I didn't even realize Cowboy was a pit bull dog until I took him in to have him neutered and get him his very first shots. And I couldn't have asked for a better dog all those years, even though he did scare people half to death just by standing there in the driveway.

I put Doe in my small corral. Where she's got plenty of water. And a couple of flakes of hay. And where she settles in all comfy, which makes me think I'm making a mistake, well, I know I am. I'm just encouraging her. I'm letting her believe for today that she'll be safe and tended to and cared for. And I'm not the owner she's going to be able to have.

I start calling Mr. H. first thing in the morning when I get back to the office. Might as well just put him on my speed dial. Under "M". For moron.

Posted by Kimberly on September 30, 2008 | Permalink

Boston Herald. Despite the vote by the House of Representatives yesterday, the fact remains that America desperately needs a bailout - a massive rescue plan for an institution vital to our nation and its economy.

My bailout target?

Personal responsibility.

Read it all.

Posted by Kimberly on September 30, 2008 | Permalink