So I'm catching up on reading .... sue me.  My amazement continues at the tilt-o-the-type in recent headlines, for example:

"The Supreme Court dealt a major blow today to PRESIDENT BUSH'S WAR ON TERROR ..."

How foolish of me to assume that the current WAR ON TERRORISM was the US WAR ON TERRORISM.

Fade to Bush Derangement Syndrome ..... "BDS: The acute onset of paranoia in otherwise normal people in reaction to the policies, the presidency -- nay -- the very existence of George W. Bush."

::::shaking head::::

If our bleeding-heart liberals and skiddish RINOs prevail in soft-pedaling against terrorists -- why not transfer Gitmo detainees to Iraq or Afghanistan for holding?

Would there be a more fitting scenario for an International Military Tribunal? 

Something tells me that, unlike our leaders who prefer to turn the other cheek -- i.e., by spoon-feeding to terrorists the rights they so barbarically defy -- Iraqis and Afghanis will not be as sympathetic ....

-----------------------------

I'm a goat, not a legal beagle. 

But I got my druthers when it comes to judicating justice (new goatard:  passing judgment from a lofty position, such as while standing on a soapbox, bench or sitting on a bar stool).

New words sorta crop up when folks (whose business is adjudication at the highest level) get to passing judgments in areas beyond their scope of authority and experience. 

Take the Supreme Court, for instance.

No wait. 

Start with the Geneva Conventions.  The Geneva Accords apply to agreements between identifiable combative nations.  It's authority and execution (no pun intended) lies within the military and the Commander-in-Chief. 

If anyone can show an authoritative link between the Supreme Court, the Geneva Conventions, our Constitution and military tribunals --- grab a bar stool and  judicate away!

Make yourself comfy ....  The stools (ummm -- who ordered the strawberry daiquiri?) swivel to facilitate talking out of both sides of mouth.

  Pepe La Pew's grandson (once a polecat, always a polecat -- grandma used to say) claimed my flower bed (smack-dab next to my front entrance) for a snooze yesterday. 

He left once it got dark.  After I scooted a portable radio blaring rock music next to him and whacked on a near-by flower pot with a fully extended tree-limb trimmer.

His presence kept me un-nerved all day.  I quickly expended all the quick-fixes:  called the police ("we don't handle 4-legged skunks"), called animal control (on vacation), called the animal shelter (closed for the weekend), called the Humane Society (message machine full). 

I was going to toss a few moth balls at him, but knowing how most animals get defensive about being pelted with anything -- that thought perished quickly. 

Gabby Goat suggested placing a trail of bread crumbs or whatever-skunks-eat and "lead" him away from the flower bed.  (Hint: skunks eat nasty things.  If I were into touching nasty things, I woulda grabbed Pepe Junior by his tiny little ears and lead him outta muh flowers.

The neighborhood kids came to peek at him. (I had posted a caution sign at the sidewalk entrance ....  

"eeeeewwwwwwweeee .... how you gonna get rid of it?"

"I don't know."

"Does it bite."

"Probably.  It has a mouth and teeth."

"How old is it?"

"Not very."

"If you poke him with a stick, how far will he spray?"

"200 yards."

"What's that funky smell?"

"His breath."

"eeeeeewwwwweeee."

"Whacha gonna do about him?"

"Put up a tent and charge admission."

I've leaped a few tall buildings in my day, dodged a few bullets and always yield to powerful locomotives, but I've never been called mild-mannered .....

<w>

Superman 100% Supergirl 85% The Flash 85% Green Lantern 85% Wonder Woman 80% Spider-Man 70% Robin 65% Hulk 65% Iron Man 65% Batman 55% Catwoman 25%

You are mild-mannered, good, strong and you love to help others.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

 to Powerline.com on the subliminal messages behind MSM security leaks:

When will MSM be held accountable?

When?  How?  And by whom?

 Lucianne.com .....

Wonder what John Kerry, Jack Murtha and Howard Dean did this weekend?

I like Ann Coulter's style. 

Irreverent.  Spontaneous.  Witty.  Bright.  Smooth.  In your face.  Always with a smile and a twinkle in her eye.  Usually on-target with a taunting "T."

Doesn't mean I agree with everything she sez, but I've enjoyed MSM's reaction to her, and particularly her new book. 

Funny how her mouthiest critics -- unable to counter her points -- stoop to debase her sexually and physically.  Cheap shots from the cheap seats. 

I hope she makes a mint. 

Fox would do well to offer her her own time slot. 

Only problem would be finding guests to joust with her.  Few men with the wit (or balls) have surfaced.  I can't think of any liberal women who don't regress into frantic harpies when challenged. 

Heck, I'd pay just to watch her monologues. 

Coulterism: 

"We've finally given liberals a war against fundamentalism, and they don't want to fight it. They would, except it would put them on the same side as the United States."

So she asked the minister of the church if he would deliver a sermon honoring fathers on her father's birthday, which was coming up in June, and the minister did. And the tradition of Father's Day caught on, though rather slowly. Mother's Day became an official holiday in 1914; Father's Day, not until 1972.

Mother's Day is still the busiest day of the year for florists, restaurants and long distance phone companies. Father's Day is the day on which the most collect phone calls are made.

-- from Garrison Keillor's APM

                                                            ^v^ ^v^ ^v^ ^v^ ^v^

  Birthdays, Christmas and Easter were the most popular holidays in my home ....  Birthdays brought your favorite cake and icing, gifts, cards and undivided attention for one day.  Christmas was the traditional season of wonder, beauty and special joy.  Easter meant new clothes to complement the hand-me-downs from aunts, cousins and neighbors; candy and treats, dyeing, decorating and hiding eggs and family reunions (you always took play clothes so you wouldn't get grass stains on your church clothes) ...   

On Mother's Day and Father's Day, I remember having to snip red rose buds from grandma's garden to pin to our church clothes.  Mom begrudgedly wore a white rose because the father she hated was long-dead ... If she had her way, we might have spent the day in front of our 9-inch National TV (2 channels on a good day) while she re-counted again and again, the horrors of growing up with an abusive, alcoholic father who wouldn't buy the kids toothbrushes and she had to clean her teeth with twigs from the sassafras tree ...

After church on Father's Day, Dad's chosen activity was to don his flower'dy swim trunks and float the afternoon away in Mitchell's River ... sometimes carrying me, my brother  and sister on his back as he dog-paddled to the edge of the small dam that held back the cool mountain water ... sometimes dozing atop the over-sized inner-tube we had inflated at the Shell Station down the road. 

Windows down, we'd sing gospel songs as our 1948 Chevy carried us 12 miles across the mountain, up the steep drive to the William's house to pay $2 (per car), then let ourselves through the pasture "honor gate" for an afternoon of memorable summer family fun .... 

Mom would have prepared everyone's favorite meal: baked ham, potato salad, greenbeans and corn, candied yams, [soggy] angel food cake stuffed with fruit cocktail.  Once the  faded blue gingham tablecloth was spread, she would unpack the car as Dad built a fire in the rock fireplace to heat the coffee pot. 

"Get me some wood, young'uns."  Off through the woods my sister, baby brother and I would go -- collecting leaves, twigs and dry limbs to pile on newspaper twists .... 

.... Stopping long enough at the edge of the woods to stir an occasional cow pie, searching for June bugs ....  The park was, after all, located in a pasture and anyone who grew up around a farm knew that June bugs hatched in cow pies .... It was an unwritten  summer tenent that moms always carried string for tying June bug legs -- and if you've never had a bevy of June bugs tied to your wrist or the handle bar of your bike, you probably grew up playing video games in some stuffy mall.

But I digress.

And after a hearty meal, we would wash dishes in the river and Dad would take us crawfish hunting and rock-skimming at the edge of the dam. 

"Is it an hour yet, Daddy?" 

"Throw me that inner-tube, Lorene."  By far the best rock-skimmer in the family, Mom never ventured beyond the river bank. 

"Grab a-hold, young'uns, and don't swim too far away."

Come to think of it, we never did.                                       

 ^v^ ^v^ ^v^ ^v^ ^v^

  I took a longgggg walk with the staff this morning.  Usually we have breakfast on Friday, but today I was feeling outdoorsy, so we walked. 

(I had stashed doughnuts in the office for our cool-down.  Any excuse to eat is my motto.)

We reviewed some of our good deeds and projects.  I allowed each to add a "what if ..." as if we had no budget restrictions .... It was fun, actually.  I even added my own! 

My staff is (we're a team, so it's singular) wonderful.  Couldn't find a better crew if I had picked them myself.  Which I did, by the way.  We share the same goals and take pride in most of the same results.  I'm a pusher -- always wanting to do more.  They understand.  They do the same.  They also understand that I can be and get bitchy when things (usually beyond anyone's immediate control) don't go smoothly.  They know how to placate and console .... They should.  I taught them!

Why is this important to blog about?  Because long walks and doughnuts sorta go together on Friday morning, that's why.  And because I'm feeling rather proud of a staff that enjoys coming to work every day.  Including me.

-- Gull