Sunday, May 03, 2009


ROMNEY IS WRONG; Still Playing By the Rules of The Left

Right out of the think-tank box the Republicans continue to please and appease the Leftists. HEY, IS ANYONE LISTENING?! WAKE UP OUT THERE!*****
Let’s say there’s been a civil war in La-La Land. The people finally came up with a list of their grievances; put it to paper called the Declacon, then decided to make a decision relative to the outcome of a football game.

Team Purple, along with their mascot Uncle Jam, thinking conservatively, has done some homework and they think they know what football is all about. They picked their best team, looking for endurance, strong backs and legs, and overall size – lots of big boys. They whip themselves into shape, run practice scrimmages, perfected their playbook – all based on historical experience with what they believed was football and the known football rule book called the Constikick that was created to fulfill the intentions of the renowned Declacon.

Then the big day comes. Team Purple all run out on the field, do their little welcoming dance and their hoo-yah’s, pounding on each others pads, banging helmets and testing their cleated shoes.

Then came Team Pink with their mascot Big Bro’. They’re all really tall slender folks, some even women, but all were light on their feet, with long arms, all well over 6’ tall – sporting these tight pink short shorts, and unrestricting lavender tank tops. Team Purple, after a moment of disbelief, broke out in a fit of laughter, but soon regained their composure.

As Team pink sashayed out, all in this tightly held S-shaped line, one of the girls tripped. Immediately springing to action, this big burly Team Purple guy ran to her rescue; helped her back to her feet, dusted the back of her leg off, helping her on her way. But first she paused to show the big lug a really cute smile.

The teams met in the center of the field and soon there seemed to be a problem. “What are the rules?” – “Who has the ball?”

“Ball,” says the cutie that stumbled? “We brought our rackets and the birdie. We don’t need a ball.”

“We are playing football, Pinky, not badminton,” says Team Purple.

‘But this is football guys. We have a birdie made from the foot of a peacock, that died naturally of course,” says one of the Pinks, “Hey Dandelion, help me set up the net.”

Team Purple is all up in arms. But the crowd seems to be excited, and they want to see some action. The team leaders are doing their best to come to some kind of an agreement. But there is a long lull in this process; the crowd eventually becomes bored-- some are hissing, some are flat out screaming in frustration, while others begin to get up and head for the parking lot.

“What do we do,” asked Team Purple? “We gotta do something, and fast,” they agreed.
“OK—OK, we’ll play your game,” but we are calling it football!”

That game began in 1948. In 1952, while Team Purple was a just a bit in the lead they were clearly fouled at the net. One of the players started to invoke a Constikick rule violation. The cutie Pinky player blinked her long, sensual eye lashes, and muttered, “Pleeeease?????”

The big guys broke down and, “Well, golly-gee, .. okay. But only this time.”

In 1959 there was another foul called by the Purples for the same offense. But they no longer could stand on any former rule, because it was deemed waived due to the first violation they allowed to slide.

By 1964 the pinkies were actually on a roll, soon taking over the lead. They had the big brutes by their tails as they could no longer reach for the official rule book, nor pray for relief.

Flashing eye lids here, and nice little curves there-- the brutes were whipped into complete submission. As the years past, there were periodic disputes with certain individual ‘brutish” players. Each time the brute was put in his place as the opposition worked the crowd’s sympathy.

In the late 1960’s the vendors in the crowd began serving this really good stuff and soon the crowd seemed a bit lethargic, even uninterested, with a noticeable group even beginning to start their own private game – soon other games were starting up all over in the stands and so few were even watching birdie/football. Even some of the birdie/football players –on both teams—were running to the sidelines to place bets on the other private games. There were a few still trying to watch birdie/football, but the distraction of what was happening all around them was almost too much to bear.

Then came the 1970’s. Men were actually wearing high heels and these really cool bright green polyester pants. Flowers on shirts seemed to be okay too! More and more vendors were roaming through the crowd, giving credit to the fans as they seemed to inhale everything the vendors could carry. But by the mid-70’s a giant blimp appeared in the sky and the sun was obscured. The private games slowed down in the stands, and there was a moment when a sizeable portion of the fans took a gander at the birdie game- Yes, even the name of the game had changed, and the people were a bit confused.

Then the 1980’s hit with a bang. The fans weren’t all that interested, but Team Purple had recruited this rather debonair bloke with a pretty good smile and a real easy way of speaking. Yea, the crowd jumped up and they actually saw some hope for Team Purple. The next few years saw some changes, but the crowd had been out of the game for so long, they had forgotten what the original rules were; they forgot the intent of the Declacon. Team Purple mounted a pretty good comeback, but once the new leader went by the wayside (touched by the gods), they quickly lost their footing because no one else remembered the rules and Team Pink got right back to shaking their fanny and batting their long eye lashes.

The 1990’s saw the crowd again inundated with all sorts of new gadgetry, again catching the attention of many of the birdie players, but mostly the big guys on Team Purple. Near the end of the decade a gadget fairy threatened to invade all the grownup’s toys and disrupt their fancy games. All kinds of startup security systems came to prominence, the people found new forms of insurance, and the vendors found ways to prey on the misfortunate and misinformed, continuing to pile on more and more credit.

No one, not even the white guys, were allowed out of the stadium any more. Only a few –one guy they heard called “buffet”—were able to sneak out over the fence and across the mote. But for the most part, there was no way out. Their only chance at sanity was to demand more action on the playing field; the distraction was ruled as .. good.

Then came the new millennium. Some jerk sneaked in, fooled Team Purple into thinking he was their best leader, and he attempted to set about redefining compassionate football. For a short time football was the name of the game. But it had been so long .. the people had no idea what was going on and this sneaky leader really had so few tools in his bag; he simply could not get the team over the hill back to where it belonged. With one really big push, Team Purple did manage to slam a big one. Barely clearing the net, the birdie –absent some of its feathers, slammed into the eye-batting cutie. The crowd rebelled and Team Pink yelled “Ouch!” All the sympathy went their way and the crowd was dripping with empathy for the tall, slender fellas and sweet, curvy gals. The big guys were booed and spat upon by the crowd and even by the other team. No one with the Purples dared to cry foul.

2008. Along comes this really, really cool guy. He’s got abs and a really cute wife, two sweet little girls, and this jib that just won’t quit. Team Purple blinks and the Pinkies slam the big one home.

Even after the decision was been made to put the really, really cool guy in charge of the Pinkies, he seems to be still trying to sell himself to everybody, acting really cool, citing Ole’ Abe, spreading his long arms out promising to love all of the people; he picks up the net, moves it way down towards the back foul line on the big guys side, then says lets all come together with bipartisanship.

But Team Purple only has about three feet of space to play in, can’t even come close to seeing the original Constikick, and the Declacon is completely forgotten. The people are so mesmerized they don’t even notice the center line has moved way down to the Left, and the umprefs are all in bed. The really, really cool guy is now being allowed to rewrite his own set of rules, completely destroying the formerly long-standing, renowned rules of economics, the concepts of life and liberty. He’s even decided that the “pursuit of happiness” concept is a good one --absent the pursuit—and is now setting the table for a property giveaway to all his supporters.

The game? What Game? Stay tuned.

Part II available in mid-2012, unless of course the soon-to-come Freedom Doctrine prohibits it.

Oh yea; back to Mr. Romney- I like the guy. But he too is playing by the enemy’s rules.

On CNN’s John King show, Sunday, May 03, 2009, Mr. Romney stated that Mr. Obama is a great communicator.—that he does a great job communicating with the people.

The federalism concept of presidential communication being directed only to the states notwithstanding, perhaps Mit was referencing Mr. Obama’s mentioning of “the rule of law,” which is code for “rule of man.” Or perhaps he meant the time when Obama remarked that he would look for a justice with “empathy,” which is code for “activist.” Or perhaps he was referring to Mr. Obama’s description of a future justice “fair-minded and independent,” code talk for “liberal and secular.”

Is Mr. Obama a communicator? What is communication – wouldn’t that mean there was reception and understanding?

I agree Mr. Obama is connecting, but I refuse to believe he is communicating with the masses.

A republic, if you can keep it.

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