Socialist please!

Have The Liberals Lost Their Motherhumping Minds?

Apparently, "socialist" equals "black".

I give up.

I am mad as Hell...

...And I Am Not Sure If I Can Take It Anymore.

Not only are the Boston Red Sox getting shit-hammered by the Tampa Bay Rays (Top of 3, 5-0 Rays) in Game Five of the ALCS, I learned something tonight that made me very mad.

Not mad, like when I threw up a little bit in my mouth while I was kissing Gina McCarthy. (She was mad; but, not like I am mad right now.)

Mad, like when I learned that one of my son's teachers was ridiculing the children who said that they liked Senator John McCain (over Senator B. Hussein Obama). Really, what in the name of fuck is a teacher doing ridiculing ten-year-olds who said they liked Senator McCain. (Or, Osama Obama, for that matter.)

I was tempted to ask Ms. Liberal White-Guilt (her actual name) where she got off bringing politics into elementary school (or, at least a particular candidate); but, I was reminded of the old addage, "Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach. Those who can't teach, teach P.E.)*

So, imagine my chagrin when I learned that my nephew, a bright young man (natch) had walked out of an interview at my alma mater, Wake Forest, with this tale:

P, who is high school senior in Massachusetts, went to North Carolina for an on-campus interview. The interviewer, a Senior Admissions Counselor (or some such nonsense), asked P, "What were you Massachusetts people thinking when you elected Mitt Romney Governor?" Later, she asked him if he was "...working for Senator Obama."

Now, as far as I am concerned, you have a right to support and vote for whomever you wish. You, don't, however, have the right to interject your opinions into the interview process.

This would be tantamount to me asking the woman I was interviewing to be my paralegal (and she was hot, trust me) if she was interested in sucking my dong. I had a position of power over her, and she knew that her answer might affect her prospects at Doolittle and Scruem.

Honestly, does Wake Forest want a bunch of Obamaniacs? I thought they wanted diversity. Similarly, does this mean that I wanted all of my female colleagues and employees to suck my dong? No, I wanted diversity. Wait, no...yes.... I wanted them all to suck my dong. Aw, you get my point.

So, as of this moment, I am through giving money to Wake Forest. I am still pissed at the thought of P being treated so callously.

Now, where is my former paralegal's phone number. I want to ask her something.



*I am, if you hadn't guessed, talking about my son's P.E. teacher.

Thanks, Chris!

WTF?!?

Columbus Day is, last I checked, a Federal Holiday.

That should mean that the kids get to stay home from school (so as to celebrate the discovery of the New World). Banks and government offices are closed (so the workers can remember the drive and determination that helped Columbus make it across the Atlantic). Some Americans (of Italian descent) have a parade.

But, in Princeton, New Jersey (where they take a day off for both Yom Kippur and Martin Luther King Day), the kids go to school.

Now, if I thought for a second that tomorrow would be spent learning solely about Christopher Columbus, I would be fine with the kids going to school.

Unfortunately, I am pretty sure that tomorrow will be spent celebrating diversity (as manifested by the Obama campaign), studying sex education (and how to sheath a banana in a condom), and not learning math and history.

Well, they can all go eff themselves. I am going to raise a glass to good ol' Chris, that magnificent Guinea bastard.

Wasted...

I Don't Know Who Won...

A small, intimate group of 75 of my closest friends got together to watch the Presidential Debate.

Some genius suggested that we do a shot every time Senator Obama said, "um"; or, Senator McCain said, "My friend."

Fifteen minutes into the debate show, we were all shit-faced.

Good times.

Hilarious!

The Headline Was Perfect!

FoxNews chattering skull, Bill O'Reilly, blasted Congressman Barney Frank (D-MA) on the mess he made at Fannie. Watch the video here.

Other headlines mentioned "Barney Frank's Love Connection With Fannie."

In fact, when The Lifeguard Googled "Barney Frank" and "Fannie", he got over 450,000 hits. (Of course, Barney Frank has gotten over 450,000 hits on his Fannie, so I am not surprised.)

The bottom (no pun intended) line is that the Democrat Party generally--and Congressman Frank and Senators Dodd and Obama--took shitloads of money from lobbyists for Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae. In fact, Senator Obama had one heretofore unmentioned accomplishment in the Senate: In just three years, he collected almost as much pelf from Fannie Mae as Senator Christopher Dodd did in thirty years.

Further, Senator Obama seems to take economic advice from wholly-owned subsidiaries of Fannie (like Congressman Frank). (Again, no pun intended in the use of the words "wholly" and "Fannie" in a sentence mentioning Congressman Barney Frank.) Oh, and former Fannie Mae CEO, Franklin Raines (who was ousted in 2004 in the wake of a $6.3 billion accounting scandal).

Wait, this started as a one-line commentary on a headline (again, no pun intended) and turned into a post on the lending crisis....

Huh?!?

Cheater!

I was reading an article about academic dishonesty, and the YouTube videos posted by students bragging about their conquests in the classroom.

For me, the queer thing has always been exams requiring that a student sign an acknowledgment that the test-taker has done his (or her) own work, has not copied from someone else, has not brought in a crib sheet ("Hey, it's my own work...done outside of class.), or supported someone other than Barack Obama for President. (Okay, maybe not the Obama thing.)

I am always reminded of my anthropology professor, who said of the Wake Forest Honour Code, "If you are scum enough to cheat on the exam, you are scum enough to sign the Honour Code stating you didn't cheat."

What the deuce?

The Bell Rings!

The candidates debated last Friday night. Senators McCain and Obama faced off in Oxford, Mississippi, to debate national security and the financial crisis; and, they did just that.

It was boring.

No name-calling. No lost tempers. No fireworks of any kind.

Some folks said that McCain won; and, others, that Obama won. No one really cared, though. Certainly not The Lifeguard, who is one bad-ass political junkie.

Both candidates staked out their middle ground, ignoring the reality of the 2008 election. In order to win, McCain and Obama need their base; and, with all of the love on that stage, no one got the red meat that they wanted.

Fortunately, Senator Biden and Governor Palin go toe-to-toe on October 2d. This will be the debate to watch for several reasons.

First, both Governor Palin and Senator Biden are far more qualified to be POTUS than either of the Presidential candidates.

Second, the Vice Presidential candidates are usually more free to go for the throat, which equals better theatre. I will not be surprised to see Senator Biden and Governor Palin duking it out, oratorially, when the formalities are out of the way. I expect at least some mean-spirited name-calling, with a dash of hyperbole thrown in for good measure.

Finally, since Governor Palin is viewed as just another pretty face; and, Senator Biden as an arrogant ass, they will be playing out of their heads, trying to show just how tough and smart they each are.

Let the games begin!

Isn't it funny?

I Was Watching Fox News This Morning...

and the chiron said something to the effect of, "Obama Up In Polls As Economy Falters."

I thought to myself, how tragic for America that in order to win the White House, the party out of power (be they Democrats or Republicans) has to hope (and pray) that things go bad in America.

It's hard to believe that the desire to sit in the big boy chair at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue can make a man (or woman) and a party take a massive dump on the country.

Thoreau would be pissed.

A Beautiful Fall Day In New England...
and a drive to Walden Pond, to commune with nature. Unfortunately, there is a five ($5.00) dollar tariff to park at Walden Pond. And, I hate to pay for parking. Anywhere.

So, I came home and settled in for the night, tuning my television to ESPN2 (The Dos) to watch my beloved Demon Deacons play the Florida State Seminoles, live from Doak Campbell Stadium. And, while I was happy that the Deacs forced seven (count 'em, seven) turnovers, won 12-3, and proved my point that Coach Bobby Bowden is about seven years past his coaching prime, I was as pissed about the announcers as I was about the parking situation at Walden effing Pond.

Bob Davie and Mark Jones, The Duo's crack announcing team, spent the better part of the game telling America just how swell Florida State's football team was. They fawned over Bobby Bowden, Mickey Andrews, and anyone else with a Florida State shirt (and a penis).

They talked about the great Seminole talents. The ones with made-up names like D'Vontrey (Richardson), Taiwan (Easterling), and Seddrick (Holloway). They talked about the coaches, and how Florida State was never out of the game. They did everything but blow Bobby Bowden. (Well, maybe after the game; but, not during.)

Now, if they had mentioned the other Florida State talent--the cheerleaders and the co-eds--I might have given them a pass; but...

Which reminds me of the time that I found myself at Florida State, doing some research in the FSU Law Library. It got late, I went for dinner and a beer at a local establishment, and ended up pulling an all-nighter with a FSU student named Alison (who was really worried about me driving after a few drinks, and thought that I would be a lot safer in her bed).

But, hey, the Deacs won. And Alison? She's just a fond memory.

Take me out to the ballgame...

Sox Win 4-3!
I was at Fenway Park on Sunday afternoon. The Toronto Blue Jays were in town; and, this was the final game of the series. As an additional bonus, I was privileged to attend the game with my friends, D and D, who had surprised their dad with a trip to Boston and a ballgame at Fenway Park.

I woke to pelting rain and grey skies; and, there was some concern (on my friends' part) that there might well be a lengthy delay (or postponement). But, we kept our fingers crossed; and, by game time, the skies had cleared, the rain had stopped, and the battle between Boston's Jon Lester and Toronto's Roy Halladay (pitching on three days' rest) began in earnest.

It was a great game, in spite of a quick score by Toronto in the top of the first. Boston answered in the bottom of the first and second, and the 2-1 margin held for most of the game.

We also watched, with eager anticipation, the Green Monster scoreboard, tracking the progress of the Yankees v. Rays game.

As always, Fenway was the draw. The perfect venue for the perfect game, baseball. The Lifeguard enjoyed the game, the fans, the food, and the chance to share such a momentous event--a maiden trip to Fenway--with good friends.

And, with that win (and the Rays' loss to the Yankees), the Sox pulled to within one game of the Tampa Bay Rays.

The hunt for the 2008 pennant continues.

Sweet.

The Lifeguard Remembers

Never Ever Forget...

On September 11, 2008, The Lifeguard offers his thoughts and prayers for those who lost loved ones in the 2001 attacks on the World Trade Centers, The Pentagon, and in that field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

Turning Chicken Salad Into Chicken S***!

The Mendacity of the Dope: The Legend Continues

The legend of Senator Barack Hussein Obama's oratory continues! Making use of his rhetorical skills, he made a perfectly innocent line--"If you put lipstick on a pig, it's still a pig"--the source of 456,000 hits (and, presumably, counting) on Google.

This was always my knock on Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton's style of speaking (except, where Candidate Obama is halting and nuanced in his delivery, Senator Clinton was shrill and annoying). By virtue of his efforts to speak carefully, he appears to be...well...stupid. Even on the teleprompter, Candidate Obama struggles to make me think he actually believes what he is saying. Off the idiot board, he simply struggles to string together a coherent thought.

As far as I am concerned, this was just another rhetorical flourish (albeit a poorly delivered one).

He need not apologise to Candidates McCain, Palin, or the distaff population of America.

There is a difference...

The Glosta Girls Give A Shout Out To Bristol Palin!

The difference between Bristol Palin (and the Republicans) and that "...black unwed teenager from the inner city..." (and the Democrats) is not latent racism, or hypocrisy, or a double standard.

The difference is that Bristol Palin has a loving family that supports her (not a welfare check). Also, she knows the father of her child (unlike many young girls that play Russian Roulette with a loaded cock); and, she is going to marry him and finish high school.

The difference is that the black unwed teenager from the inner city will probably remain unwed, will probably have more children, and will probably not get an education.

Republicans--generally speaking--love the sinner (but hate the sin). Her family (and the Republican Party) understand that kids have sex, and that sex (often) leads to pregnancy. They also understand the following:

a) Men hate to wear condoms;
b) Not wearing a condom during sex greatly increases the risk of pregnancy;
c) Abstinence (i.e., avoiding sex) decreases the risk of pregnancy; because,
d) Men hate to wear condoms.

Should Bristol Palin have been more careful? Yes.

But, maybe some good will come of this. Maybe some girls will see that there is some public humiliation to getting pregnant. Maybe some boys will see that they have to take responsibility for their actions. And, maybe, everyone will just leave Bristol Palin alone.

You'd better Google that.

I'm Pretty Sure It's K-a-t-h-a-r-i-n-e."

I was talking to the Hot Independent Girl (Named Kathryn), and we were discussing politics. Ultimately, the discussion turned to the spelling of her name.

I told her that I had a cousin who spelled her name the same way: Kathryn.

She told me that she was named for Kathryn [sic] Hepburn.

Me: "I think that she spelled it Katharine."

HIGNK [indignantly]: "I'm named for her. I should know how she spells it."

It's official!

The Lifeguard Likes!
An eternity ago, before the Republican National Convention began, then-presumptive nominee, Senator John Sidney McCain, III (R-AZ), selected a little-known governor to be his running mate. The fact that she was from Alaska, a conservative, and an (attractive) woman made her all of the more stellar as a choice.

You see, Governor Palin brings a lot to the table. She is a governor (and, former mayor), so she has more executive branch experience than the other three candidates combined. (Well, Senator Obama was the president of the Harvard Law Review. He was also a community organiser, so I guess the whole "experience thing" is off of the table.) As governor, she is the commander-in-chief of the Alaska National Guard, the group (in large part) responsible for security on the Alaska Pipeline. Her son is in the military. She is plain-spoken, looks good in a skirt, and can bullseye a womp rat from her T-16 Skyspeeder.

She had the good sense to thank Geraldine Ferraro and Senator Hillary Clinton for their work in breaking down the so-called glass ceiling; and, she has demonstrated--thus far--that a woman can be feminine and powerful. Indeed, as I was saying to someone the other day (in response to a question about why the left doesn't like Governor Palin), "She is not someone a feminist can relate to, easily. She hunts, she fishes, and she doesn't look like...well...me."

In much the same way that many Democrats label Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice a " house nigga"; or, Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas an "Uncle Tom", women hating the choice of Governor Palin is not surprising. They don't see themselves as strong-willed, hockey-playing, M.16 shooting, dress-wearing, successful women. They support abortion, gun control, and a ban on offshore drilling. Since Governor Palin thinks differently, they discount her--immediately--as a cynical and unqualified choice to be Candidate McCain's second. [Frankly, if I were in a duel with Senator Obama, I would want Governor Palin to be my second. I am pretty sure that she could kick Senator Biden's ass.]

And while I am not a big fan of Senator McCain, his choice of Governor Palin gives me a reason to vote for him. She is strong on energy policy, and understands that ANWR is a wasteland that should be explored. Her husband is an oil man, and a member of the United Steelworkers Union. It is likely that she understands that more exploration and drilling means more high-paying union jobs here in America. It means jobs in Alaska, in the South, and the Far West. It means mining coal in Pennsylvania and West Virginia (and the highly-paid but dangerous jobs that accompany mining). Finally, her support of domestic energy production means more refineries, pipelines, and nuclear (and other) power plants. In short, good jobs with good wages.

In fact, if the McCain/Palin ticket were smart, this is the only thing that they would be talking about for the next seven weeks. Jobs, jobs, jobs.*

Which brings me to my encounter last Thursday night:

Hot Independent Girl (named Kathryn): "The choice of Sarah Palin pushed me into the Obama camp.

Me: "Huh?"

HIGNK: "She is just too inexperienced to be President of the United States."

Me: "Huh? She is a governor, has been a mayor. In short, she has the executive experience that no one else--on either ticket--has."

HIGNK: "Well, I figure that neither a 72 year old nor a black man will make it through four years in office, so I want a Vice President who is ready to step into the Oval Office and lead this country. I think Biden is a better choice."

Now, that's cynical.

*The Lifeguard is available as a political consultant to the Republican National Committee (or, the Democrats, for that matter), as long as the money is right.

Change is all we'll have...and we'll need it to live.

Plagiarism Is In Vogue Once More!

Three observations as Senator B. Hussein Obama accepts the nomination of his Party:

1) Has anyone (other than me) noticed that Senators Obama and Biden have been accused of plagiarism? That they will give us "...change you can Xerox"...and leave us with change in our pockets.

2) Has anyone (other than me) watched some of the freaks and retards* that make up the delegates at the DNC? Aren't you just a little bit glad that they believe in abortion on demand?

3) Is anyone (other than me) tired of hearing the lies that all politicians tell, assuming that we, the people, are just too plain stupid to hear the truth? And, aren't you just a little bit tired of hearing how great a speaker Senator Obama is?

Or seeing him act the part of the rock star. Hell, I keep waiting for U2 to take the stage.

I am going to bed.

*With apologies to freaks and retards.

Thank God We Live In America...

The Games Of The XXIX Olympiad
I have been watching the Olympics (off and on) since they began almost two weeks ago. Softball and baseball have been relegated to the Oh-Dark-Thirty hours, so I have had to satisfy my jones for international softball/baseball by reading the newspaper.

Women's Beach Volleyball has been a favourite of The Lifeguard (beaches and women--what's not to like). Congratulations, by the way, to Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh.

Then, there was the FUBARed baton pass in both the Men's and Women's 4x100m Relay.

Well, at least USA Track can take solace that they don't live in the former Soviet Union (where they would be sent to the Gulag); or, Iraq (where Uday or Qusay would drop them into an industrial shredder).

So, at least they have that going for them.

That all having been said, The Lifeguard does enjoy the Olympics. I grew up watching them every four years; and, I remember cheering for the American athletes. I took it personally when the United States didn't win every medal; but, I also understood (and admired) the situation facing the athletes from certain countries. Athletes whose lives changed drastically (for the worse or the better) depending upon their success on the balance beam, the court, the pool, or the track.

I remember watching the tragedy of the 1972 Munich Olympics as it happened.

I remember Bruce Jenner winning the decathlon, and the "Miracle on Ice."

I remember the US boycott of the 1980 Moscow Olympics...and the Soviet Union's boycott of the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics.

I remember thinking that I could be on that podium, collecting my gold medal (if only I were citius, altius or fortius.) And, by gum, I would sing the Star Spangled Banner. I mean, I would belt it out ('though they might have then stripped me of my medal for my awful singing).

Anyway, back to the Games of the XXIX Olympiad, y'all.

The Mendacity of the Dope...

Chapter Two

On of the young missionaries approached me.  She was young, white, and expensively dressed.  I detected a faint scent of Fleur de Fleurs, and the smell of Crest toothpaste on her breath.  Were we not in public (and were she alone), I would have taken her in my arms and kissed her, deeply.

But, we were (and she wasn't).

"Are you registered to vote?"  

"Yes, ever since I was eighteen."

"Are you a believer?" she asked.

"In what?"  (It seemed to be a good time to be a little coy.)

"Our Lord and Saviour, Barack Obama."  (Actually, she said "Senator" instead of "Lord and Saviour"; but, the latter makes for a better story.)

"No."

"Because he's black?" she asked.

"No, because he is the least qualified man ever to run for the highest office in this great land of ours.  And, because he is without conviction.  He seems to change his positions with the wind.  He sat, for twenty years, and listened to a racist crackpot denigrate America, without complaint.  He has a messiah complex."  I could have gone on for hours.  The fact that he really is an African-American has nothing to do with my feelings about the Illinois senator.

"Well," she said.  "Have you read his syllabus from when he was a professor at the University of Chicago Law School?  He is brilliant."  (She said this word--"brilliant"--like she was English.)

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have."  (I can not believe that this is happening.  I had been asked by my friend, K, if I had read his syllabus.  Whether I knew anything about Senator Obama's law school tenure.  Since (then) I had not, I went out and read everything that I could find.)

"I also read an article about how then-Professor Obama had been hired to teach to help diversify the faculty at U of C.  How he had been offered tenure though he had never (which is to say, never) published.  And, I looked at his syllabus, which I found to be nothing special.  Oh, and it had several typos."

"Well, what would you know about his syllabus?  It's not like you are a lawyer," she retorted.

"Actually...I am The Lifeguard.  And, when I was in law school, I read all of the case law on his syllabus.  Most every law student does.  I had also read many of the articles, speeches and books that he suggests in his bibliography.  I also can not understand his lack of scholarship.  Pretty much every tenured professor that I knew lamented about the need to 'publish or perish.'  I also found it interesting that in twelve years at U of C, he never really expressed any firm opinions or views."  (I could have gone on for hours.)

"Ummm," she said.

"Ummm," she said again.

"You sound like Senator Obama once he is off of the teleprompter," I told her.

"You are a Right-Wing racist," she said, walking away, frustration evident in her voice and demeanour.

And, as I watched she and her shapely friend retreat into the crowd, I remembered that when an Obama supporter calls one names, the Obama supporter has ceded the argument.

This is serious...

This weekend, the men and women of the Menage A Trois, the most notorious sailboat in Marblehead Harbour, will take their show on the road, to the American Yacht Club, to participate in the Leukemia Cup Regatta, to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

Our plan is to think fat and to sail fast.

Please consider a donation to this wonderful cause.

Click here.

(That's it, move the cursor, click the button on the mouse, then donate some scratch.)

You can then check this blawg for race results and pictures of the mayhem.

I note that, aside from my volunteer work with teenage mothers (helping them get their start), I shy away from asking anyone to donate anything to anybody.

But this, do it for the kids.

Good News!

The Mendacity Of The Dope

Illinois Senator (and presumptive Democrat Presidential Nominee) Barack (or is it Baruch?) Hussein Obama has taken us on a wild ride. One that began with William Ayers and Tony Rezko and ended with his pronouncements that we will all recall the day that "...the rise of the oceans began to slow...."

In other words, we have met the Messiah and he is Obama.

What troubles me, however, is that the good senator is little more than a well-educated, well-funded charlatan. But, because he is African-American (really, his father was African, so I don't mind calling him an African-American), we can not question him about his votes in the Illinois State Senate (the nearly 130 times he voted "present" rather than "aye" or "nay"); what it really says on his birth certificate; whether his wife is fair game (since she has insinuated herself into the public eye in a way that few other putative First Ladies have); or, the Reverend Jeremiah Wright.

No wonder the Reverend Jackson wants to "...cut his nuts off."

Huh?

I Am Puzzled...

I umpired a baseball game last night, and the venue was a New England minor league stadium. As I walked to the umpires' dressing room, I paused, and asked out loud...

"Why is the sign in English and braille?"

America Runs On Dunkin's?

America Is Screwed!

I have stopped at my neighbourhood Dunkin' Donuts the last three mornings, and ordered my usual: black coffee (or, what Dunkin' Donuts calls coffee), with no sugar.

Unfortunately (for me), Team Brazil FUBARed my order...three days in a row.

Apparently, in Brazil, "black coffee, no sugar" means...something other than black coffee with no sugar.

But, yesterday, I was still at the window, and I checked my order before pulling away from drive-through.

Me: "Hey, Pedro! What does black coffee mean in your country?"

Hector [Looking at me as if he doesn't understand English.]: "Eh?"

Me: "Black coffee. No cream, no sugar, no spit. Just BLACK effing coffee!"

Manager [Hearing me and walking to the window.] "What's the problem?"

Me: "This is not what I ordered."

Manager [Looking at the order screen.]: "Yes, it...oh, wait...no, it isn't."

Manager [To Hector]: "Boppity boopity bap. Bappity bippidy boop."

Hector [Handing me my black coffee.]: "Ehsorry, sir, ees black."

Again, I ask the same question: How, in the name of all that is holy, can you screw up a black coffee? Anyone? Anyone?

Will someone please tell me how to order a black coffee in Portuguese.

Oh, and for those of you wondering about what the picture of Rachel Ray (with thanks to FHM) has to do with coffee, please recall that she is the spokeswoman for Dunkin' Donuts. And, she is a visual metaphor (to me) for Dunkin' Donuts coffee. I find her hot and inviting; but, when I get into her (metaphorically speaking), she is just annoyingly unsatisfying. Maybe, a ball gag (which is, again, a metaphor for coffee) would help.

Gay Pride!

Discrimination In Eugene, Oregon?

A Gay, running in the 100m trials, ran faster than any man in history. However, due to a strong tailwind, his time of 9.68 seconds doesn't count as a world record.

This is an outrage. Just because there was some "wind" a Gay didn't set the world record? Really, what does sexual preference have to do with the world record; or, running. The Gay was fast. Faster than any man in the 100m dash. But, just because he likes to s...

Wait, I just re-read the article.

He's not gay. He's Tyson Gay.

And that cat is fast. He qualified for the U.S. Olympic Team, and is expected to win gold in Beijing.

But, if he were gay, that would be okay, too. Just for the record. But, not for the world record...because of the too-strong tailwind.

SCOTUS SLIPSUP

What Were They Thinking?

In what is being called a stunning blow to President Bush--and, more importantly, America--the Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS) issued their opinion in Boumedine v. Bush. In a 5-4 decision, the SCOTUS (who are supposed to be on our team) extended the rights of habeas corpus to prisoners detained at Guantanamo Bay. This effectively gives enemy combatants the same rights as, say Orenthal James Simpson (and we all recall how that turned out).

Imagine a world where Mahmoud, a peace-loving Muslim, with six kids, four wives, and a hankering to get to Paradise (where he can get 72 Virginians) gets caught on his way to a suicide bombing, then shipped off to G'itmo for some fun in the sun. Instead of some water sports (the new term for water-boarding), three squares, and five prayers a day, he gets access to the American legal system.

Instead of swift, sure military justice, we will surely get years of wrangling over whether Mahmoud was read his Miranda rights; whether he received (competent) counsel; and, whether the rape of a six-year-old camel is grounds for execution. Idiots, languishing on Death Row, while Americans die (and pay for their care and maintenance). Idiots telling idiots that they have rights.

What this decision might do, however, is lead to something quite unintended by the SCOTUS.

Rather than have the courts (and juries) of the United States judging the enemy combatants, the Coalition of the Willing just might take matters into their own hands. They might ship prisoners off to Egyptian prisons (where the detained don't have it quite so well); or, they might just shoot the motherf***ers. After all, only God can be the judge. We can simply insure that the enemy combatants get to their appointment on time.

So, maybe Boumedine is not the defeat that the Right thinks that it is. Rather, it may give The War Against Terror a wee-bit of inertia, which will lead to increased security (and a diminished population at Club G'itmo). And, for those who think that precedent means everything, they should remember that President Abraham Lincoln suspended the right of habeas corpus during the War of Northern Aggression. Perhaps President Bush should take a page from The Great Emancipator; or, perhaps we should find someone like Colonel Walter E. Kurtz to run the show. Either way, people will complain.

Six Flags?

Sixth Level Of Hell!

Today, I did the unlikely. I took my children to Six Flags New England, in Agawam, Massachusetts. A place also known as Hell.

A place where one look at the patrons will make you feel good about yourself.

Too fat? There is someone fatter (and uglier) splashing in the water park, Speedo bursting as a consequence of one (hundred and fifty) too many Wendy's Triple Cheeseburgers. Too skinny? Check out the meth addict on the Lazy River. Want a tattoo? Shop for one among the crowd. Scorpions, tigers, pit bulls, and pictures of their baby girl (or, boy). Piercings? They've got 'em. Noses, lips, cheeks, eye brows, and belly buttons (plus, at least one visible nipple piercing on a guy named Hector).

There was nearly a fight in the water park, when a Puerto Rican girl took exception at being splashed by a black woman. ("It's a water park. Hello!") Indeed, judging by the reaction by the Latina, Democrat Presidential nominee, Senator B. Hussein Obama has a lot of outreach to do in the Hispanic community.

Which brings me to the overwhelmingly ethnic and white trash clientele.

Folks speaking English were outnumbered, at least two-to-one. Tattooed (or pierced)? Six-to-one. Women that I might take home to meet mom (if mom were alive...and I were inclined)? Exactly...two. And, one of them (I am pretty sure) was sixteen.

On top of it all, one must pay fifteen ($15.00) to park, just to have the privilege of paying $29.99 (each) to get into the park. Down a C-Note before I even bought the first $3.50 water, or the first $8.99 crispy chicken wrap.

Really, what, in the name of all that is holy, is the rationale behind a parking fee? I mean, other than the obvious. Usually, I like a kiss before I get screwed.

But, the kids had fun; and, the roller coasters were pretty cool.

Oh, and the two largish black men in the car park? They were priceless.

Black Guy One [To no one in particular]: "Yo, nigga! Can you believe that we came all the way here and lost our car?"

B.G. Two [To me]: "Nigga! How you doin'? Seen our car?"

Me [Under my breath]: "Get me out of here."

B.G. One [To the car park]: "Niggas! Where's our car!"

My only regret? That I am not still in university, in a sociology class, so that I could do a paper on this shit.

I hate the NBA...

...But, I Love The Boston Celtics!

I haven't been a big fan of the NBA since...well...since four steps and a hack became a "great move", not a travel and a foul. I have, however, remained a loyal Boston Celtics fan.

There is so much to love about this team: The history; the players and coaches; and, that lovable little Mick that is the mascot. [Query: Why do American Indians (and liberal weenies) get pissy when the Washington Redskins take the field against the University of North Dakota Fighting Sioux (stay with me on this); but, the entire St. Patrick's Day celebrating world thinks it is cool that the Celtics and the Notre Dame Fighting Irish have stereotypical Irish dudes as their mascot?]

So, when the Celtics survived the NBA playoffs (beating Atlanta, Cleveland, and Detroit), and reached The Finals, I was thrilled. Not only was it a chance to win their seventeenth World Championship (and first in twenty two years), it was a chance for me to see the America of my youth.

After all, the Los(t) Angeles Lakers are the team of today's America. They are from the Left Coast. They are coached by a Zen-master. They are adored by the beautiful people. They are a diverse and international bunch.

The Celtics, on the other hand, are none of those things. Hell, an ESPN correspondent even compared cheering for the Celtics to rooting for Hitler. Like I said, the Celtics represent the good old days in America; and, appropos of that, they crushed the Lakers in Game Six.

I was afraid that there would be some whining, especially since the commentators were lamenting the "embarrassment" caused to the Lakers...in the second quarter. But, the Celtics continued with their stifling defence and overpowering offence, beating the Lakers by thirty nine points, the largest margin of victory ever.

The 131-92 victory was sweet.

It showed that America (and the Celtics) were back.

And, if Red were here, he would have lit that cigar...before the end of the first half. They were that good. They were that strong.

So, in honour of the Celtics, I am lighting up a Cohiba.

Happy Father's Day

I Miss You, Dad...

My dad passed away in the latter part of March, 2002. So long ago, it seems, that I often forget that it was not really that far removed from the present. A mere six years--one seventh of my time here on Earth--that he went quietly into that good night.

I remember, fondly, the days of my youth. Days spent riding in his Triumph Spitfire Mk IV. Going to work with my dad, and watching the F-105s, spitting fire, as they roared down the runway at Hill AFB. Playing catch. Getting up at 5:00am to go to help him shovel snow off of the tennis court at the club so that we could play a couple of sets. Driving across this great land, as we took our summer vacations.

Then, as a teenager. The time he flew back to Utah so that he could teach me algebra. The days (and nights) he spent camping with me (and the Boy Scouts). How he encouraged me to earn my Eagle Scout badge. How he helped me prepare for high school debate tournaments. And, how he supported me when I dropped out of high school, hell bent on going to college rather than change schools in my senior year.

When I went away to Wake Forest, he was proud. He called or wrote me a letter nearly every day; and, he supported me, even when no one else seemed to think I would make it. He helped me get my act together, to get off of academic probation, and to graduate with a reasonably fair Grade Point Average. Indeed, when I graduated, I handed him a cigar, a glass (actually, a bottle) of champagne, and my diploma, and said, "Thanks, dad. You earned this as much as I did." I realised that he had gotten smarter with every passing day.

Law school was our next challenge; and, he was my conscience and my guide. He gave me encouragement (again), and helped me to survive the rough patches. He introduced me to the joys of coaching a Little League team (that finished second in the City of Coral Gables), and to umpiring. Some of my happiest moments were those times spent working games together, at FIU, the University of Miami, and at Barry University.

As a grown-up, he was always there for me. With advice, with a little extra money, and with a hug when I got off of the plane in Florida. We played golf, smoked cigars, and drank whisky. We solved the problems of the world every single day that we were together (or, even apart).

And, when he was dying, he told me stories of his youth. Of losing his brother, Sam, when he was run over by a car. The fear that he felt when he woke one morning, paralysed by polio. The sadness in his heart when his dad passed away.

The beauty of his death, surrounded by friends and family. The way he closed his eyes, called out, "Sam", and said, "I love you" to those of us who were by his side. Then, he was gone.

And, part of me was gone, too.

I lost my father and my best friend, all at once.

Not a day goes by when I don't think about him; and, not a day goes by that I do not wish for one more day. One more hour. One more minute with him in my life.

He loved his children and grandchildren. He loved his wife, my mother. He loved life.

So, today, Father's Day, I will think of him as I play with my kids; and, as I umpire a Cranberry League double-header.

And, as I call the game, I know that he will be with me, helping me.

Thanks, dad.

I thought it was funny...

"How Do You Defend Kobe Bryant?"

That was the question posed by one of the commentators before Thursday night's contest between the visiting Los Angeles Lakers and the Boston Celtics.

To the room, I said, "You defend Kobe by saying, 'Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the evidence will show that my client, Mr. Bryant, did not rape that woman.'"

Strangely, no one (without a Y-Chromosome) laughed.

As my friend, J, noted: "God gave us a sense of humour. It is up to us to use it."

Remember, they shot the filly...

Hillary! Wins South Dakota, Loses Montana...
And, The Nomination

In the electoral equivalent of a giant hugfest, the Democrat Party (narrowly) selected the barely qualified Senator from Illinois, B. Hussein Obama, to be its nominee for the 2008 Presidential contest.

Senator Obama, speaking in Minnesota, expressed the need for change...and for unity. And, given the tenor of the primary campaign over the last few months, unity would be a change. A change from the sniping, fighting, and angst that must accompany any Democrat campaign.

He spoke of an end to Republican policies that have made the rich richer; and, the poor...fucking destitute. A need for energy policy ('though the Democrat party has stood in the way of drilling in ANWR, off of the Florida and California coasts, and from opening a nuclear storage facility in Yucca Mountain, Nevada). A need for universal health care ('though no one has explained how to get Americans to accept the almost certain rationing that will come with health care for everyone). A need to get out of Iraq, since fighting the terrorists abroad does nothing for security at home ('though he didn't say how Americans, without universal health care, will adjust to having guys named "Hussein" blowing shit up right here on Main Street, U.S.A.). A need to avoid references to religion and patriotism ('though, frankly, some of us are still clinging to our faith...and our guns).

The fact of the matter is, Senator Obama has accomplished something amazing. He is (probably) the least qualified Presidential candidate (of any race or sex) to come along since Dewey beat Truman (almost).

So, as the 2008 campaign begins in earnest, let's not forget...

Hillary!

The woman who has gained a greater percentage of the popular vote, and who has won the most important states.

The woman who never says its over unless she sings...

And, from where The Lifeguard sits, the Fat Lady isn't quite ready to sing.

So, over the next few days, we will sit, watch, and wait. Really, just because B. Hussein Obama says it's over doesn't mean it is over.

Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbour? No!

Go do that voodoo that you do so well!

Rest In Peace, Harvey!

Hedley Lamarr: My mind is a raging torrent, flooded with rivulets of thought cascading into a waterfall of creative alternatives.
Taggart: God darnit, Mr. Lamarr, you use your tongue prettier than a twenty dollar whore.

Harvey Herschel Korman, one of the greatest comedic actors of our time--and, a veteran of the United States Navy--passed away today. He was 81.

I am off to watch Blazing Saddles...again. But, I at least wanted to share with you, gentle readers, one of my favourite lines from this outstanding film.

Oh, and thank you, Harvey, for your service to our country; and, for all of the laughs.

Puzzled? I am.

"Lifeguard Of The Jury Pool Is My Favourite Blawg!"

So said Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the President of the Islamic Republic of Iran.

Or, at least I think it is Ahmadinejad.

I have noticed an unusually large number of readers in the Islamic Republic of Iran, based upon the results provided by my tracking software. In fact, the Islamic Republic of Iran is the home country of the third largest group of readers of this blawg, after the United States (natch) and Canada.

And, since the Islamic Republic of Iran is not the most open place in the world, I have to assume that Ahmadinejad enjoys the site so much that he has given his imprimatur to The Lifeguard.

Pretty cool, isn't it?

Prom Night 2008

I Was Pumping A Tank Of $4.03 Per Gallon Gasoline...
when a slick, white Mercedes-Benz pulled into the bay next to me. I didn't pay much attention until the car's passengers, a pimply-faced teen, in a bad tuxedo (complete with a bad black shirt and a bad black cravat) and a pretty girl, wearing a passable prom-style dress, walked back to the car.

Aside from the fact that there are just so many things wrong with a black shirt and tie worn with a black tuxedo (or with anything else, for that matter), I didn't think too much of this young man's transgression; nor, did I give much attention to the young woman.

As I was getting my receipt (for $75.00 worth of gasoline), I watched the young man--forever known to me as "Douchebag One"--get into the car, while his date started to activate the pump.

Springing to action (after assessing the fact that I could kick the ass of Douchebag One), I said to the young woman, "Excuse me, but you are just too darned pretty to be pumping your own gasoline."

Her: "Thank you, but I think I can do it."

Me: "And, I know that there will be no sex on Prom Night, because your date has no balls."

Him: [Getting out of the car, straightening his get-up like Douchebaggy Bag, the famous Midwest Rapper.] "Hey! Like, what are you trying to say, Dawg?"*

Me: "That you, sir--and I use that term loosely--are a wimp and a weenie for letting such a beautiful young woman pump her own gas."

Him: "Dawg, it's...like...her car."

Me: "It doesn't...like...matter, Dawg. You should still do the right thing and at least offer to pump the gas. It's...like...a metaphor, Dawg."

Him: [Getting his Irish up.] "Daw..."

Me: [Giving him a roundhouse kick to the head, then filling her tank.]** "How old are you?"

Him: [Sprawled on the ground, bleeding from the nose.] "Ugh."

Her: "Seventeen. Why?"

Me: "Just wondering."

Her: "Are you doing anything tonight? I would love a real man to be my date to the prom."

And thus, the Legend of the Lifeguard grows...

*He was white. No self-respecting white man calls anyone (walking on two legs) "Dawg." For this alone, he deserved a boot to the head. He was also entitled to a boot to the head for the sartorial choices made earlier in the evening; for letting his date even get out of the car, let alone pump her own gasoline; for the (too) frequent use of the word, "like"; and, for planning to take her to TGI Friday's for her Prom Night Meal.

**"Filling her tank" was just that, pumping her gas. What else could I have meant, you sick bastards?

Hillary!

Hillary! Wins Big In West By God Virginia

No one cares.

Mainly, because West Virginia is too white, too poor, and too stupid to be enlightened enough to vote for someone as worldly and wise as Senator B. Hussein Obama.

Hell, West Virgina's senior senator used to be in the Ku Klux Klan.

And, after all, who needs the white vote?

Oh, wait. Anyone who hopes to win the Presidency.

What everyone seems to have forgotten is this: Empirically, white folk (especially blue collar white folk) turn out come November. Regardless of whether they are Democrats or Republicans, they vote. They realise that their vote counts; and, that their vote may just be the one that holds the line (whatever that line may be).

In my experience, the only group more fervent in their turnout are Cuban-Americans.

On the other hand, Senator Obama's core constituency--blacks, young people, and guilt-addled white liberals--tend to stay away from the polls in November.

So, though Hillary! trails in delegates and Super Delegates, she is not out of the race. Unlike Eight Belles, this is one filly who will stay in the fight; and, who still has a credible chance of being the nominee.

I am not talking about the Guam Primary...

Big Brown Beats The Filly Going Away...

I am talking about the 134th running of the Kentucky Derby, you racist bastards.

In an exciting race, the 20-horse, Big Brown (going off at 7-2), came from nowhere to trounce the field, beating the filly, Eight Belles. However, tragedy followed when Eight Belles broke her foreleg on the track, and had to be euthanised.

The Lifeguard, not usually a big fan of horse racing, was hopeful as the horses broke from the gate. I had wagered--with former President Clinton--a box of Cuban cigars on Gayego (a horse owned by Cuban immigrants). Sadly, my horse is still running (although, so is former President Clinton's). He had staked it all on Recapturetheglory.

So, the (former) Prez and I sat down together to watch the race as we slugged back a couple of pitchers of mint juleps. The best part, however, was watching the hot chicks with their big hats. Oh, and we used every one of those cigars...if you know what I mean.

Ah, The Kentucky Derby....

My gang sign...

No Confusion Here, Damnit!

Boston Celtics star, Paul Pierce, was fined Twenty Five Thousand ($25,000.00) Dollars for allegedly flashing the Piru Blood Gang Sign.

The Lifeguard can never be fined for his gang sign, as demonstrated by television's Robert Blake.

Where is Al Sharpton when you need him?

More Proof Of A Racist America...

Black dogs are more likely to be euthanised than lighter-coloured dogs. This is because of the inherent racism of America's white folk. And, because most people, when they go to adopt a hound, choose small, cute, white (or light-coloured) dogs.

People are, not surprisingly, afraid of big, scary, black dogs.

Strangely, Senator B. Hussein Obama's maternal grandmother--the one that he called a racist--owned Yellow Labrador Retrievers because they were "less frightening" than Black Labs.

The Reverend Jeremiah Wright remarked that, "This is proof that AmeriKKKa is still a racist country. A country where all dogs are not created equal."

He went on to say that, "[T]he U.S. Government invented fleas and heartworm to wipe out black dogs."

Someone call the Reverend Jackson...now!

Or, the NAACP (the National Association for the Advancement of Coloured Pooches).

It's Tax Day + One

We Are The Internal Revenue Service...
Up Your Ass Since 1862!

And, best of all, many of the Bush Tax Cuts are set to expire in the next year or so. The Democrat Congress won't make them permanent (because they benefit rich and poor alike), effectively giving everyone a big, fat tax increase. Of course, the late William F. Buckley hit the nail on the head when he said that he "...would like to electrocute everyone who uses the word ‘fair’ in connection with income tax policies."

Just what we need. (Electrocution, not fairness.)

Because, as former President, William J. Clinton once noted...

"...[We] can not give you a tax cut, because you might not spend it right."

How big is it?

Hillary!'s Ass (And My Ego) Are This Big...

Notwithstanding that, Hillary! is hanging on for dear life, watching her lead in Pennsylvania shrink; watching her lead over Senator J. Sidney McCain shrink; watching her fund raising machine sputter.

The only thing keeping her around (aside from her husband's ego and her sense of entitlement) is the fact that Senator B. Hussein Obama is running a campaign that is (right now) so inept and devoid of substance that he is sliding in the polls. (Thank you, Reverend Wright.)

But, at least the media are starting to examine the Holy One; and, Hillary! continues to battle, so the fun will continue.

Weep for the future...

The Drinking Age Is 21...

You have to be 18 to vote, and to drive (in some states). 18 to get married (unless you live in Arkansas), and 17 to enlist in the Armed Forces of the United States of America.

We don't trust mere children to drink responsibly; or, to drive safely; or, to carry firearms.

Mainly, because they are children, and we know that they do not have the life experience and maturity to make difficult decisions.

So, why in the name of all that is holy would we trust our little darlings with our choice for the most important post in the world?

Kids for Obama?

I don't trust my 16 year old niece for anything other than programming my cell phone and which movies to see. I sure as hell will not trust her to help me cast my vote in November. And, if you are wise, you will make your own decisions as to the Presidential election. Let the kids decide who to vote off American Idol.

Como Esta, Bitches!

...You'd Still Be In Your Own Third World Hell-Hole Once You Swam Across The Rio Grande!

The fine Svenskas who make Absolut Vodka are running the above advertisement south of the border. Fine, because it is edgy, as are many Absolut ads.

I just wonder how many Mexicans would buy vodka from the Country of Sweden if, in that Absolut world, running, jumping and swimming wouldn't get them out of Mexico.

And, I wonder how many Americans are going to drink Absolut from this day forward.

Truly, the claim that the United States stole Alta California from Mexico is Bravo Sierra. After its independence from Spain, the fledgling government of Mexico was bankrupt, corrupt, and unable to govern such an expansive area. In order to try to stabilise the lawless northern territories, a few hundred American families were allowed to settle what is now known as Texas.

Subsequent immigration created an English-speaking majority in Texas, and soon, the Republic of Texas was formed, in 1836. After losses at the Alamo (remember it, damnit!) and Goliad, the Texans were on their heels. However, at the battle of San Jacinto, the Texans captured the Mexican General Santa Anna, and ransomed him at the cost of the Treaties of Velasco.

Then, there was some political wrangling, the Mexican-American War (which we won), and some more political wrangling. Contemporaneously, the corrupt Mexican government remained corrupt.

The end result: Mexico believes we stole their land and tarnished their honour. That is why, apparently, hundreds (or thousands) of Mexican criminals cross the northern border every day. And, for those of you who are now getting pissy at the pronouncement that Mexican criminals are crossing the border, remember that by virtue of their illegal crossing, they are breaking the law. Our law.

But, I digress....

Who's The Hooker and Who's The John?

Hillary!'s Running Mate...

Life was all sunshine and puppies for (Democrat) Michigan Senator, Debbie Stabenow, and her husband, Thomas Athans, as this photograph from the Los Angeles Times shows.

But, that was in 2006.

Now, she learns that Mr. Athans was getting his pipes cleaned by a $150.00 hooker he met at the Residence Inn on Big Beaver Road, in Troy, MI (near Exit 69 on I-75).

So, I was thinking that if Hillary! gets the Democrat nomination, she should grab another scorned woman--Senator Stabenow--as her running mate.

They would get the scorned woman vote, going away; and, would have a pretty good shot at knocking off the other Democrat in the race, Arizona Senator John Sidney McCain, III. And, once elected, their husbands could set off on a Grand Tour of Caligulan proportions.

Of course, this all begs the question of what is wrong with consorting with prostitutes. After all, Mr. Athans is married to one of one hundred whores who serve in the United States Senate. One of the whores who refused to put an end to earmarks.