OediPOTUS Wrecks: Prologue

by Smitty

Character Listing

Prologue

A Press Conference in the Rose Garden.

OediPOTUS: My fellow Americans. I have done a wonderful job, as you know, in spite of the naysayers. I have saved you from the threat of another failed President like Sphinxor, rescuing you out from under the bus of his tyranny, restoring the economy, renewing the place of the United States in the world. Thank you for coming here today, but please temper the adulation. One would not wish to grow egotistical in the process of serving such a flawed, but not entirely irredeemable country.

Now, I understand that some on the other side are continuing to spread misinformation, so I've called this conference to gather the straight dope.

Thomasina? As the senior member of the press corps, I'm sure that you've located the pulse of what you think is gnawing at the people. Please give us the unfiltered, no-spin details. You'll find me, as always, the soul of helpfulness.

Thomasina Helenson: Mr. President, peace be upon you. And also on the poor of the country, one in four of whom lack employment, thanks to the Sphinxor; while the drought destroys the harvest thanks to the weather; and trade is non-existent, thanks to the ill-will pent up against our land during the previous administration around the world.

We understand that you're but a mortal, albeit one of surpassing intellect and urbane upbringing.

We know that, lacking your wise counsel, things would be two to three times as bad, according to MoveOn.org.

However, we need more. It is not enough that you have saved the banks, and the auto industry, and fought valiantly to ensure fairness, justice, and equality for all Americans, taking the good fight into the teeth of the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy to Thwart Progress. We need action, and we need it quickly, to save us from the demagogues who, even now, stir up discontent against your wise policies, citing ancient documents whose words have lost all meaning.

OW: I feel your question. Let me respond. You may be sure that I knew of these haters, peddling falsehood and fear in an attempt to derail the recovery. No one feels the pain of the empty belly of the child in the bread line more than I. The pain is such that even the blessing of rest escapes me, in my anguish. I have sent the members of Congress to scour the planet in search of clues, to check against my internal grasp of what must be done. For example, Charlie Rangel has gone to the Punta Cana Yacht Club in the Dominican Republic in search of ideas. Also, Chris Dodd has repaired to a shack in Ireland, and intends a stop by the Oracle, in Devon, England, in search of clues. The country is in the very best of hands.

TH: And here is your Chief of Staff, Ramen Lewis Cyphre, perhaps with a report.

OW: And what good news do you have for the American people, Ramen?

Ramen Lewis Cyphre: Great challenges will be overcome, so long as we remain united.

OW: Listening to my speeches on your iPod yields dividends, though we need to work on your pacing. Nevertheless, can you be more specific and forceful? The people hear you not, over the growling of the collective belly.

RLC: Can you not allow me to indulge my usual modesty? The news is somewhat…complex, and may digest better initially in confidence.

OW: Ramen, your usual demure behavior can not be given free reign in a situation this dire. The people suffer, and I with them, not the least of which due to these delays in communicating information. Out with it.

RLC: Fair enough. The report from Dodd is that his cottage needs a new roof, and Devon reports that we must "expel from the land…an old defilement we are sheltering. It is a deathly thing, beyond cure; we must not let it feed upon us longer."

OW: What is Devon on about? How do we rid ourselves of this…foe betting against Hope and Change?

RLC: Exile or death. Murder helped this foulness rise to become a threat.

OW: Murder? While I never had time to prosecute much, focusing on rising to the level where I could do battle with the naysayers, I would love to have a Perry Mason moment. Who is the victim, and when can we get a 'reliable' special prosecutor in from Chicago, just in case the truth becomes inconvenient?

RLC: President Jefferson Williams, your predecessor's predecessor.

OW: JW, Secretary of State Cthulia Williams' husband? Would that I'd had the chance to meet him. Poor, widowed Cthulia, who struggled nearly as hard as I do against the forces of conservative darkness in this land. I don't remember the details of the investigation. Didn't President Sphinxor find evidence of a terrorist plot and knock over a banana republic somewhere over that?

RLC: There was evidence and an invasion, yes. However, the Oracle seems to indicate that the case should be re-opened.

OW: OK, Mr. Cypher. You know that openness is the hallmark of my administration. Members of the press corps can filter out as they need to. Now, I'm sure you would not have come out here without facts at your fingertips: how did Williams die?

RLC: As the chief servants in the country are wont to do, Williams went to Martha's Vineyard, after Sphinxor was sworn in, to console his losing Vice President, Jay Pettifogger. There was a car accident, with only one survivor.

OW: Terrible. Did the survivor offer evidence?

RLC: Little.

OW: And?

RLC: Williams had cut his Secret Service detail down to the one car. There was an ambush at the Chappaquiddick ferry terminal. The guards were overwhelmed when attackers hit the car in a head-on, suicide attack.

OW: Tragic. Probably revenge over some foreign-policy thing we can't discuss right here, one expects.

RLC: Indeed. The evidence seemed to lead to Zambiniland, and President Sphinxor, in his bumbling way, made a cock-up of the whole situation.

OW: Sphinxor's cock-up; our arse. Once more, I must step in and wipe up after the Sphinxor. The Oracle doesn't lie. We must pursue this threat to the end, wherever the facts take us. Who knows? There could be another sleeper cell waiting to take me out. Chasing down Williams' killers could prove critical to preserving my own safety.

Members of the press, I think this news trumps whatever trivial questions you may have. Feel free to take up any further questions with the Press Secretary, Lars Gibbon. Thank you.

Press departs

Next: Scene I

Copyright 2009 by Christopher L. Smith

Aaron Gardner is da total bomb

One of the most brilliant young minds of the conservative movement has been dissed . . . by me!

Sorry, Aaron. My bad. I'm so used to linking Moe at Red State . . . well, force of habit.

No, it's not the Onion, it's ABC

by Smitty

Gateway Pundit has an ABC clip about national parks. Apparently, slavery is at the root of the lack of black usage of national parks

There maybe something in this (wildly) NSFW rant from Chris Rock (50% potty mouth, 50% stone cold truth) about the real issues. Interestingly, Rock makes no mention of slavery.

While Rock would have a half-life of about 10 seconds as a network news anchor, given his belt-driven f-grenade launcher, maybe he could be a consultant to ABC so that their reporting would not suck so much pond water.

Out of bounds protesting

by Smitty

This blog disagrees heavily with dumb drivers as much as ignorant government policies, but decries all violent expressions of dissent.

In particular, attacking red-light runners with a brick.

Now, what they should do with people who

• Can't turn into the nearest appropriate lane, but swing wide like a tractor/trailer rig Every Godforsaken Time, or
• Never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity to make sure there is room across the intersection for their chariot before entering the intersection

is use traffic cameras to afford those twerps the opportunity to pay more for the privilege of driving like a Complete Loser.

UPDATE (RSM): There are some people -- including a majority of drivers in the Greater D.C. Metro Region -- who, when they apply for a driver's license, should instead be issued a bus pass.

My older brother Kirby is a truck driver. He refers to bad drivers, those who can't choose the proper lane on the Interstate, as "commuters."

Why? Because the commuter is accustomed by habit to a certain type of driving: Slow, and in situations where it really makes no difference, speed-wise, which lane you choose on the eight-lane freeway.

The commuter gets used to driving under such conditions, morning and evening, five days a week. And the only other driving the commuter usually does is a brief trip to the nearby grocery store, etc.

Then comes the moment when, on vacation or making a longer-distance trip on the weekend, the commuter heads out onto the open road and becomes a traffic hazard, an obstacle to progress.

Let's say the speed limit on the Interstate is 65 mph. Those accustomed to long-distance open-road driving know that you're never going to get pulled over for driving 14 mph over the limit, so set your cruise control at 79 mph and you can cover the distance in the minimum time without fear of a ticket.

However, there will be those keen-eyed motorists who, when they spot an open straightaway with no troopers in sight, will push it up even faster, to 85 mph or more. The veteran long-distance driver, seeing such a speedy fellow approaching in his rearview mirror, knows to yield the left lane to these people -- get out of their way, or they'll zoom over and pass you the right.

Not so the commuter, who will plod along in that left lane doing 71 mph, often forming a "rolling roadblock" with traffic going the same speed to his right. Even when there is a line of eight or 10 cars stacked up behind him, eager to pass (what I call the "cork-in-the-bottle" problem) the commuter resolutely hugs that left lane. The commuter either is completely oblivious to the meaning of that long queue behind him, or else feels himself entitled to drive in the left lane, no matter his speed.

Like I said, some people ought to be issued a bus pass, not a driver's license. -- RSM

Announcement: OediPOTUS Wrecks

by Smitty

Update:
For those too distracted by people named Tonya or whoever back in the day, this work modernizes the Sophocles classic Oedipus Rex, still an excellent read after these ~2,500 years. Give that URL glance, or this series may be slightly bewildering.

As your foremost source of cultural diversion, this blog takes pride in announcing the Porch Manqué Production of:

Which sad little affair will play out in this blog over the course of the next week, with an obscene going up daily at high noon.

Scenes:
Prologue
Scene I
Scene II
Scene III
Finale

Characters:
(Alluded)
Jefferson Williams, OediPOTUS's father, 42nd POTUS
Lucius Sphinxor, 43rd POTUS
Kerry Kennedy, foster father of OediPOTUS
Olga von Kleindrubble Kennedy, mother of OediPOTUS
Pettifogger, Vice President under Jefferson Williams.
Folderol, Vice President under OediPOTUS

(Actual)
OediPOTUS Wrecks, 44th POTUS
Cthulia Williams, widow of Jefferson, Secretary of State to OediPOTUS
Ramen Lewis Cyphre, OediPOTUS's Chief of Staff
Hanah, palindromic source of mayhem
Matthew Olberchrist, fawning journalist
Sandy Hamburger, walking file cabinet
Dr. Esarhaddon Cyphre, brother of Ramen
Rosor, bored mastermind
Thomasina Helenson, queen of the press corps

Porch Manqué Productions has moved couch and chest freezer to make this the best possible collision of Greek tragedy and political farce. You can always tell how well you've accomplished the task by the intensity of the critics:

• Sophocles: My work! My opus desecrated! Has this Smitty neither taste nor judgment?
• Baldric: Next time Smitty thinks he has a cunning plan, assure him society'll sooner see Sullivan sane.
• Pontius Pilate: Note to self: wash hands, crucify, wash hands again.
• William Shakespeare: He hath sought Puckish, and begat puke-ish.
• Oscar Wilde: There is a fine line between delightfully clever and deserving cleaver. By the time it reaches Smitty, that line separates a morning star and a machete.
• "Half-Cocked" Jack: Never has me inability to read been such a blessing.
• Inspector Grimm: This hoity-toity, namby-pamby, colonoscopic colonial is stealing my lines!
• Marcellus Wallace: Dis bitch is Pulp Fiction meets some medieval s**t meets mah man Obama. 'Cept Pulp Fiction didn't suck.
• William Wallace: Speaking of medieval, the ending of Braveheart has a more pleasant face than this tripe.
• Mike Wallace: Speaking of tripe, at last we have something so fantastic as to make 60 Minutes comparatively sane and realistic.
• H. P. Lovecraft: Typically, consumption by Cthulhu diminishes literary output. Smitty writes on; fearless, mindless, soulless. Scientifically fascinating.
• Rob Roy MacGregor: O! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant! A thousand words, at random spoken, Would improve upon this jackass jokin'!
• John Wayne: You've got ta be kiddin' me, pilgrim. Why, I haven't seen a manure stream that bad since they drove a herd of diarrhetic cattle across the river feedin' Michael Moore's ranch, givin' us Fahrenheit 9/11.
• Spinal Tap: Smitty needs one.

OK, the John Wayne remark did hurt a little. But do come back and tell your friends. Stacy says that if we don't do a quarter-million hits on this, he's going to cut me back to half a pizza crust a day. Do not let this happen!

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

Blogger Rosemary Port has saggy breasts

And I dare her to sue me for that!

Speaking out for the first time since a court order forced Google to reveal her identity, blogger Rosemary Port tells the Daily News that model Liskula Cohen should blame herself for the uproar.
"This has become a public spectacle and a circus that is not my doing," said Port, whose "Skanks in NYC" site branded the 37-year-old Cohen an "old hag."
"By going to the press, she defamed herself," Port said.
"Before her suit, there were probably two hits on my Web site: One from me looking at it, and one from her looking at it," Port said. "That was before it became a spectacle. I feel my right to privacy has been violated."
The pretty 29-year-old Fashion Institute of Technology student added that she's furious at Google for revealing her identity, so much so that she plans to file a $15 million federal lawsuit against the Web giant.
"When I was being defended by attorneys for Google, I thought my right to privacy was being protected," Port said.

Aw, shut your ignorant yap, you saggy-breasted blog skank. You're just a slightly less creepy Jesse Griffin, supposing that you can hide forever behind an online pseudonym while hurling invective at others whom you deny the very "right to privacy" that you so ludicrously assert.

And why? Because you're bitter, Rosemary. Bitter because your breasts are so saggy, they're pointing due south. You want to sue me for that? Fine. But then the laughably pathetic condition of your saggy, shriveled breasts will become a matter of public record.

So unless you're willing to show us otherwise, you'll forever be known as Saggy-Breasted Rosemary Port.

Obama Discovers Formula:Dishonesty = Disapproval

Thanks to Moe Lane* for pointing me to this nifty little chart from Rasmussen Reports:

What went wrong? How did Obama screw the pooch? Politico's Mike Allen and Jim Vandehei try (and fail) to get a straight answer out of David Axelrod, but leave it to some dude with a blog to explain everything in a single sentence:

Largely missing from the analysis, which is punctuated with a lot of 20/20 hindsight observation, is any appreciation of how Obama and his administration’s lack of candor might have affected perceptions of his trustworthiness.
-- Dan Collins

Bravo, Dan! If dishonesty were genius, the Obama administration would sweep next year's Nobel Prizes.

Oh, and even though that one sentence explains it all, Dan Collins wrote more than one sentence, so please read the whole thing.

* UPDATE: I am informed by Aaron Gardner that it was his Red State post, and not Moe's, which contained this information. Aaron Gardner is da total bomb.

Da Tech Guy gets it

"What else is a private Tropical Island for?"

Exactly. Any guy who buys his own private tropical island is obviously just trying to score. You've got to figure Ricardo Montalban didn't spent too many nights alone. I bet even Herve Villechaize was a pretty popular dude.

Same thing with a sports car or a yacht. I don't care if the guy's 93 years old. If he's driving a Maserati, you know he's looking for some action.

Not that this kind of carnal motivation can't be sublimated so as to be socially beneficial. Had it not been for the trying-to-score factor, Keith Richards would have been just another English drug addict instead of a world-famous rock guitarist.

Come to think of it, the entire "British invasion" was just a bunch of guys with bad teeth trying to score. Did you ever take a close look at the guys in Gerry and the Pacemakers? The Animals? The Kinks? Without guitars, those dudes would have been completely hopeless.

Which Is Worse: Anti-Semitism or Protectionism?

This morning, I happened to catch a few moments of The McLaughlin Group. The subject had apparently turned to economics and trade, and Pat Buchanan was railing about his idee fixe, the idea that our "trade deficit" with China was evidence of a purposeful policy of Chinese economic sabotage.

OK, to start with, there is no such thing as a "trade deficit." Trade is the exchange of economic goods. If I give the gas station $3 and the gas station gives me a gallon of unleaded, do I have a "trade deficit" with the gas station?

The United States has, relative to China, a surplus of wealth. China has, relative to the United States, a surplus of labor. Chinese labor produces goods which are then exchanged for American wealth. There is no "deficit" in the pejorative sense suggested by Buchanan.

If U.S. manufacturers could produce fireworks as cheaply as do the Chinese, then I wouldn't buy Chinese fireworks. In fact, the Chinese make fireworks so cheaply, no U.S. manufacturer even attempts to compete with them, and I don't even have a choice: If I'm going to buy fireworks, I must buy Chinese fireworks.

Why is this? Well, we are a wealthy nation, fireworks manufacturing is dangerous work, and people in wealthy nations do not do dangerous work cheaply. Also, the United States has a lot of tort-happy trial lawyers who'd sue a fireworks maker into bankruptcy the minute a stray spark ignites the kind of accidental explosions that routinely kill Chinese fireworks facctory workers. (e.g., "Fireworks factory explosion in China kills 13," "Second China fireworks factory blast kills 11," "16 killed in China factory blast," etc.)

In addition to such considerations, the U.S. has OSHA guidelines, EPA, food stamps, Medicaid, worker's compensation, minimum wage, etc., etc. These various mechanisms of the liberal welfare state have the effect of increasing labor costs and reducing incentives for work at the lower end of the wage scale.

If the United States were to implement free-market reforms that had the effect of reducing the anti-competitive impact of tort lawyers and the welfare state, U.S. manufacturing would be in a better position vis a vis China. This would not bring about Utopia ("Alabama fireworks factory explosion kills 14 illegal immigrants") but at least we wouldn't have to listen to Buchanan talking incessantly about imposing protective tariffs.

To the extent that the Chinese government is pursuing protectionist or quasi-protectionist policies (i.e., subsidizing industries for the export of goods at sub-market prices), the primary victims of this policy are the Chinese.

Just as there is no such thing as a "trade deficit," so is there no such thing as "dumping" of sub-market goods. If Beijing wishes to tax its citizens in order to sell us steel at sub-market prices, I say we take all that cheap steel we can get. If the steel lobby and the steelworkers' union cry foul, screw 'em. They can either reduce wages or do without a job, but there is no point in making workers in every steel-dependent industry suffer on their behalf by imposing steel tariffs.

Now, I have recently scolded my friend David Frum over his 2003 attack on Buchanan (and Buchanan's friends, including the late Robert Novak) in regard to the Iraq War. I dare risk Frum's enmity on this score because (a) Buchanan's criticism of the Bush administration's Iraq policy has been amply vindicated, and (b) Frum resurrected the accusation of anti-Semitism against Buchanan & Co.

It is irrelevant (or, at least, should be irrelevant) to a discussion of U.S. foreign policy whether Buchanan is or is not an anti-Semite. It's a free country, and Buchanan's personal hatreds are his own business. But if the invasion of Iraq was a bad policy, undertaken without honest debate and in the absence of accurate intelligence or adequate planning for the post-invasion phase, then criticism of that policy ought to be respected, whether the criticism comes from Buchanan or John Kerry or Louis Farrakhan.

Tangling up Iraq policy discussion with the toxic charge of anti-Semitism isn't helpful. A thing can be true even if a bad person says it. Trying to pre-emptively disqualify an adversary's argument by saying that he is a bad person -- "A notorious former colleague of Michael Gerson!" -- simply won't do.

Moreover, these sorts of accusations of mala fides invite the question of whether the irrational prejudice alleged -- e.g., that Buchanan hates Jews -- actually causes harm.

Suppose that it is alleged that David Frum hates fat women. Evidence of this hatred is adduced in that Frum's wife Danielle Crittenden is thin and, even when he was single, Frum was never known to date fat girls, nor even girls who might be described as "pleasantly plump." Furthermore, it is remembered that Frum once harshly criticized Hillary Clinton (who isn't exactly Olive Oyl, if you get my drift).

Ah, so Frum now stands credibly accused of hating fat women. And Frum's defense is, "So what? Lots of people hate fat women. What's your point?"

Exactly right. And while it may be shown that, in terms of group averages, fat women have lower income than thin women, that they have less education, fewer social advantages, higher crime rates -- the usual sorts of evidences of "victimhood" -- you still haven't proven that David Frum's irrational fatchickaphobia has resulted in any particular harm to any particular fat woman.

Now, this probably sounds silly as an analogy for anti-Semitism, but on the other hand, so far as I am aware, the evidence that Pat Buchanan has ever done actual harm to any particular Jewish person is non-existent. It's one thing to say that, vis a vis U.S. Middle East policy, Buchanan's positions are as wrong as that thick-thighed Hillary Clinton's, but . . .

Having personally felt the sting of irrational prejudice against Appalachian-Americans -- no, I've never cooked moonshine, my parents weren't first cousins, and I don't even own a banjo -- I understand the sensitivity about such crude bigotry. But how can anyone claim to be doing good for the conservative cause by indicting Buchanana for bigotry so subtle as to be indistinguishable from the sentiments of most liberals, including pudgy-bottomed Hillary Clinton?

I guess what I'm I trying to say is, can't we all just get along? Jews and Jew-haters, David Frum and fat chicks like Hillary Clinton, protectionist fanatics and soon-to-be-exploded Chinese fireworks factory employees? Everybody hold hands and sing along.

Kumbayah, my Lord, kumbayah . . .

Maverick: Hey, you know those 'death panels' Sarah Palin was talking about . . .?

"There was a provision in the bill that talks about a board that would decide 'most effective measures' to provide health care for people, OK?"
-- John McCain, ABC "This Week"

And if the "most effective measures" means Grandma gets a Brompton cocktail . . .

All Girls Named TonyaThe Disturbing Case of David Copperfield

Several aspects of this case are disturbing:

A Seattle woman has filed a federal lawsuit against magician and entertainer David Copperfield, claiming he sexually assaulted and threatened her while she was a guest on his private island in the Bahamas two years ago. The lawsuit was filed even as the U.S. Attorney's Office is considering whether to file criminal charges in the case.

In the first paragraph, this story has already destroyed the fantasies of millions of 14-year-old geeks around the world. "You mean, even if I become so rich that I've got my own private tropical island, I don't get to have sex with any 22-year-old woman I desire?" Disturbing.

The woman, a 22-year-old fashion model and former Miss Washington USA contestant, filed the lawsuit on July 29 in U.S. District Court in Seattle against David Seth Kotkin, Copperfield's given name. That date was the deadline for a two-year statute of limitations in the case.

His name is "David Kotkin"? Disturbing.

The Seattle Times is not naming her because she is an alleged victim of sexual assault.

Whoa! Sweetheart, at the moment you file a lawsuit against a guy who flew you to his own private tropical island, I become deeply suspicious of your status as "victim." I'm just guessing your name is Tonya. Disturbing.

The woman is seeking unspecified damages for infliction of emotional distress, false misrepresentation and false imprisonment.

"Unspecified damages"? Disturbing.

On Wednesday, [Copperfield] issued a bare-knuckled response to the lawsuit. . . . He accused the woman of "extortion for money, plain and simple." The woman, according to Copperfield's attorneys, Angelo Calfo and Patty Eakes, "has a history of lying ... which continues in this lawsuit."

Worse than "a history of lying," she now has a history of not putting out for guys who fly her to their own private tropical island. Disturbing.

The woman alleges she met Copperfield during a January 2007 performance in Kennewick, when he called her on stage to perform in his act. After the show, the lawsuit alleges, an assistant took her personal information, snapped her photograph and said Copperfield might be interested in helping her career.
In July 2007, the woman alleges, she was invited to Musha Cay, Copperfield's $50 million private island in the Bahamas. The woman was assured, the lawsuit said, that others would be on the island and that she would have her own room.
The lawsuit alleges Copperfield and his assistant misled the woman and knew that she would be alone with him. The woman claims that she wouldn't have gone had she known she'd be alone with the magician.

Right. The guy offers to fly you to his own tropical island, and you accept, but you're afraid to be alone with him. Disturbing.

She said the 52-year-old magician drove her to the beach her first night on the island, and then returned to her room and removed her passport from her purse.
After dinner and watching a movie in Copperfield's room, the woman claims, he "attacked [her] and sexually assaulted her" on the bed, threatening to kill her if she didn't perform certain sex acts.

OK, you're a show business superstar with your own private tropical island, yet you can only score with chicks by threatening to kill them? Disturbing.

Throughout the assault (the woman) physically and verbally resisted Defendant Copperfield and struggled to get away from him," the lawsuit claims.
The next day, she said, she tried to hide but Copperfield found her and took her back to the private beach outside his bedroom. She said the magician held her head underwater until she thought she would drown after she refused his demand to "get naked."
"He then told her, 'this is an example of what you will get if you tell anyone.' " The lawsuit alleges he took off her swimsuit top and forced her to perform another sex act.
She claims a third assault took place when Copperfield dragged her from the shower in her room a short time later.

At this point, I'm thinking that David Kotkin, a/k/a "Copperfield," needs to spend a little less time working on his magic act and a little more time working on his romantic act.

The business about demanding that the chick "get naked"? That's never worked for me. I've been married for 20 years, and if I demanded that my wife "get naked," she'd laugh in my face. On the other hand, maybe if I had my own private tropical island . . . Disturbing.

Copperfield has disputed the allegations from the outset. His attorneys say that there were more than 40 people on the island during the woman's three-night, four-day visit.
"Her allegation that there was no one on the island to help her — even if she needed help — is preposterous," his statement says. The woman met and talked with other guests, sunbathed "and swam on island beaches, day after day. She even had dinner with a group of island guests," according to the statement.

Regardless of the truth or falsehood of the claims in this case, this "victim" has already exposed a disturbing pattern. Whenever a 52-year-old show-business superstar invites a 22-year-old ex-beauty queen to his own private tropical island, she might have reason to think he's going to expect her to "perform certain sex acts" with him. (You've been warned, ladies.)

This disturbing pattern is not limited to 52-year-old show-business superstars and 22-year-old ex-beauty queens. Generally speaking, if you're a chick and a guy says, "Hey, wanna come over to my place?" you should be suspicious. Whether it's his college dorm room, his apartment or his private tropical island, a lot of guys seem to have this misguided expectation that a chick who comes over to their place is just beggin' for some action.

This expectation -- "If she comes over to my place, she's ready to put out" -- is disturbing, especially when stated in such blunt terms. What's more disturbing is that any woman, even a 22-year-old ex-beauty queen, could be so stupid as to be unaware of the existence of such expectations.

Even if David Kotkin a/k/a "Copperfield" didn't forcibly rape the 22-year-old ex-beauty queen, you've got to figure any guy would have had his feelings hurt if, after flying her to his own tropical island -- four days and three nights in the Bahamas -- she were less than enthusiastic about his (surprise!) erotic interest in her.

This is why you find a lot of guys who are resentful toward the entire notion of "date rape." Having swept away all the norms and rules of traditional society, the sexual revolution and feminism have created a world in which the rules appear to be contingent, improvised and whimsical.

However, whereas the old rules were widely recognized and thus easily enforced by informal means -- slap his face, "unhand me, you cad!" and then ostracize the creep henceforth -- the new rules seem routinely to require federal lawsuits and grand jury inquisitions to sort them out. We've abandoned rules enforceable by individual action in favor of rules requiring enforcement by trial lawyers.

We await legal disposition of the disturbing case of Doe v. Kotkin, but the verdict is already in on the sexual revolution: It's been a complete catastrophe.

For the benefit of any young people (or 52-year-old show-business superstars) forced to sort out the new rules for themselves in this disturbing environment, allow me to offer a few suggestions by way of etiquette:

• In general, be careful about situations where you are alone with a person of the opposite sex.

This is especially true in terms of someone you don't know very well. Even if nothing happens, people talk.

• Ladies, if you're going to turn a guy down, turn him down up front, and be clear about it.

Apparently, some women use ambiguity in an effort to avoid hurting a guy's feelings. They don't like a guy "that way," but don't want to say so, and therefore allow the guy to waste his time in futile pursuit of a romance that is never going to happen.

This kind of ambiguity seems to be implicated in most college "date rape" scenarios. The guy asks the girl to come to his dorm room or apartment, she agrees, he interprets her agreement as de facto sexual consent, she resists and, next thing you know, there's a girl crying at the campus clinic and the Womyn's Studies department is organizing candlelight vigils for a "Take Back the Night" rally.

The fact that these "date rapes" tend to occur after the consumption of massive quantities of alcohol only adds to the disturbing stupidity of it all. To put it in the bluntest possible terms, any drunk 19-year-old guy is a potential sexual predator. A drunk 19-year-old guy will screw anything with a pulse. Any girl who doesn't understand that is probably too stupid to be attending college.

• Guys, a selfish attitude about sex is self-defeating.

What is so stupidly disturbing about this case against David Kotkin a/k/a "Copperfield" is the evidence that he has a stunted, puerile notion of sexual entitlement. Whatever it was that actually happened on his private island resort -- and we'll leave that determination to the legal authorities -- it appears that Copperfield more or less expected this 22-year-old ex-beauty queen to deliver the goods.

However reasonable that expectation must have seemed to Copperfield -- "For crying out loud, I'm a show-business superstar with my own private tropical island!" -- it was decidedly not an expectation in accord with chivalrous customs of generous hospitality.

While I've never owned a tropical island in the Bahamas, I think that the principles I learned back in the day of inviting girls to visit Room 215 Patterson Hall would apply equally well in Copperfield's situation:

• OK, the girl's accepted your invitation. You might be in luck. But you've got to play it cool. She shows up, and you greet her with courtesy and hospitality. ("Would you like a delicious cold beverage? I've got some wine coolers here in the fridge . . .")
• Don't move too fast. Unless she's totally making the moves on you, chill out and read her signals. If she just wants to talk, just talk. No pressure, see? This girl's got friends, and you don't want her telling her friends that you're such a desperate loser that you started making the moves on her and she turned you down. The key to developing a reputation as irresistible is to avoid provoking resistance.
• If you're going to make a move, make a move. Forget that slowly-work-your-way-up-to-it approach. Assuming you're reading the signals correctly, a green light means "go." Chicks dig the bold proposition. Take her in your arms and tell her you've been burning with desire for her ever since the first time you saw her. Gently kiss her neck and whisper your passionate intention to ravish every inch of her glorious naked body.
• Be willing to take no for an answer and to apologize for any unintended offense. Hey, even an ace pilot sometimes accidentally locks onto the wrong target, OK? This girl came over to your dorm room to study for the art history exam and when she started talking suggestively about Michelangelo's David, you took it the wrong way. It happens.

Chicks sometimes aren't so clear about the signals they send. My senior year in college, on the afternoon of a big concert on the quad, a girlfriend of my girlfriend came over to my dorm room. Lucy kissed me, got completely naked and still ended up saying, "no," an answer I was obliged to accept.

I never forgave Lucy for that -- which is why I feel no compunction about naming her -- but I had to accept it. (Even though I had been burning with desire for Lucy since the first time I saw her.)

When you get to be a senior in college, you ought to understand stuff like that. Certainly, by the time you're a 52-year-old show-business superstar with your own private tropical island, you ought to understand that stuff. And if you don't understand it . . .

Disturbing.

* * * * *

All Girls Names Tonya (And Other Lessons of a Misspent Youth) is one of those books that no publisher in their right mind would ever pay me to write. But if you don't think these stories are completely worthless, please hit the tip jar.

• Part I: Lessons of a Misspent Youth
• Part II: Don't Start Me Talking . . .

Rule 5 Sunday

by Smitty

Ah, Rule 5. Fine blend of bikinis, starlets and what have you. Enjoy!

• Shilpa Shetty. I've never seen her movies, but I love them already.
• Stephen Green uses Lani Anderson as blogbait for something. Literacy diminishes to zero in the vicinity of that URL.
• Fausta floats the question of whether Don Draper is the new Jack Bauer. I liked the one SNL episode the actor hosted, but I confess to having never seen Mad Men. She also has a game of 'spot the hottie' in a burst of Latin color.
• Rightofcourse reveals itself a serious Anglosphere booster Hmmm. Angloshpere as double-entendre?
• Nation of Cowards carries the theme forward nicely.
• HotMES returns to the Rule 5, recommending Kourtney Kardashian. Looks like she could use some wardrobe assistance. The failures of the American education system are a source of woe.
• Troglopundit features Erin Andrews. Now, we've cautioned Troglopundit about dirty pictures of Erin Andrews, but he still appears to require calibration. And he follows up with some ladies who can deliver that calibration. Ow.
• Fishersville Mike posted Shania Twain.
• ViralFootage, just in time for Inglourious Basterds, has Bikini Cinema doing, in all its vulgar NSFW 'glory', Pulp Fiction.
• Telegraph.co.uk has a roundup of 10 bikini goddesses.
• That methodical Morgan Freeberg fellow features Beyonce Knowles and Carly Zucker as part of his alphabetic guide to loveliness. Ever the science geek, he also reports on the water-soluble bikini.
  
• Paco, the Rule 5 Culture Czar, locates Dorothy Dandridge and Jane Russell for us.
• Superpowers That Be offers a conservative celebrity roundup. Fine mix of ladies, gentlemen, and ideas that don't suck.
• Jeffords gives us a look at Hollywood remakes, citing crucial Rule 5 concerns. It sounds like he can support a Werewolf remake on Emily Blunt grounds, but has misgivings about a rehash of Excalibur.
• PowerLine is holding down the fort on the Miss Universe reporting. Nerves of steel, those lads, bearing up under the pressure. Phenomenal.
• The Classic Liberal takes Rule 5 as a serious character study opportunity. It's offbeat, but TCL has our full support. This week, it's Mila Kunis.
• When I use the term 'tool' to refer to my Congressman, it's pejorative. That famous craftsman at the WyBlog demonstrates that the traditional meaning has Rule 5 application.
• The sad decay of Bob Belvedere into a Rule 5 junkie saddens us all. He can't decide between Jacqueline Bisset, or Dawn Wells, or an unnamed belly dancer

Here is Joe Satriani holding forth on the subject of belly dancers:

• Three Beers Later introduces Barbara Bouchet, and five seconds of spandex delight.
• Knowledge is Power has a couple of lovelies.
  

That's your Rule 5 Sunday. Send your cheesecake to Smitty for inclusion. And hit the tip jar for 'ol Stacy's sake. And I don't mean 'rice wine'.

Update:
Blog name of the day is "Caught Him With a Corndog", and Red has apparently, married Hellboy. So I guess all the fathers can breath easily with respect to the safety of their daughters.

What does Janeane Garofalo know about Uganda?

I'll pass over her "functionally retarded adults" slur against Tea Party protesters, and focus instead on this:

"Our media is quite happy to report on any stolen election around the world, any stolen election around the world except ours. And it's just unexamined narcissism. It's just, if you were to say this to the average American, ‘You know they steal elections in Uganda.' ‘Yeah.' ‘You know they steal elections in America.' ‘Why do you hate America?' ‘Why didn't you ask me why do you hate Uganda?'"

Having been to Uganda, having spent some time studying the history and politics of Uganda, I cannot help but wonder why Garofalo decided to pull the name "Uganda" out of a hat in this manner.

The president of Uganda, Yoweri Museveni, has done a remarkable job of establishing peace and stability for his nation in a region where peace and stability cannot be taken for granted. Museveni fought to overthrow Idi Amin and then, in the brilliant political-military campaign of 1981-86, overthrew Amin's corrupt successors. For more than two decades, Museveni's national government has sought to overcome the dangerous legacy of ethnic rivalry among Uganda's tribes, and to establish a modern economic system.

Museveni has, at times, been accused of a highhanded approach toward opponents, but when one considers the horrors of civil strife that have afflicted so many of Uganda's neighbors -- including Sudan to the north -- the overall prudence of his leadership tends rather to excuse whatever his faults or errors may be.

Given that Museveni was most recently re-elected in 2006 with 59% of the vote, I have no idea why Janeane Garofalo would pick Uganda, of all the countries in the world, as an example of stolen elections. However, if Janeane or anyone else wants to go to Uganda, my recommendation would be:

• Take British Airways -- you don't want to bother with other airlines
• Make sure you have sufficient clothing, etc., in your carry-on, as checked luggage can be delayed in delivery;
• When you get to Entebbe Airport, tell your cab driver to take you directly to the Kampala Serena Hotel, a truly world-class resort; and
• Drink only bottled water.

Or, better yet, try Uganda's excellent Bell Lager beer.

Health Care as a Moral Obligation

by Smitty

Cassandra raises the Moral Obligation question with respect to health care. She's linking Dave Schuler. Schuler's framing, emphasis mine:

Is is possible to make a coherent argument that government-provided healthcare is a moral obligation but that our obligation doesn't extend to people in Zambia? I don’t think it is but I’m willing to listen to the arguments.

One aspect of the question is one of scope. If you picture authority as forming a hierarchy, in the US we have Federal, State, and Local government. You can also argue individuals 'govern' themselves.

Another aspect of the question boils down to authority/responsibility. Governments have you trained to play along with taxation, asserting legal action, or, ultimately violence if you resist too heavily.

What is the scope of a moral imperative? Does it extend beyond the individual, or voluntary associations, i.e. a community of faith? This would depend on the definition. I'd argue that moral imperatives (e.g. stay sober) are subjective ones, voluntarily acceded.

Ethical imperatives (e.g. don't kill me) would seem the low common denominator that we comfortably apply universally, as objectively as possible. They tend to have legal backing.

So, is there a law stating that we owe medical care to Zambia? No. Should there be? If there was going to be, I'd need a thorough argument showing me how the scope of the obligations up the chain of sovereignty command supports the notion.

Ponder the psychology of the assertion (based upon Schuler's)

Government-provided healthcare is a moral obligation, and our obligation extends to people in Zambia.

You've explicitly argued a unified world government at that point. That's problematic. Also, the 'moral obligation' is a tough nut. You can't morally obligate me except through my faith, which the US Federal Government is explicitly precluded from establishing in the First Amendment. Then you'd have to have a single world religion to cast that 'moral obligation' everywhere. We can't even maintain a single language spoken globally. A religion? *snort*

The question is transcendental, and anyone on the left who raises it probably needs a boot to the head:

Update:
Commenter K raises an excellent "why isn't it theft?" question. Here is the intellectual laundry process:

1. From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.
2. If I can't have it, you can't have it. Your possessions are 'unfair'.
3. You have, therefore you stole.
4. Since you're both unfair and a thief, we can liberate property from you via government proxy and feel good about it.

Carol rocks the fairy tale

by Smitty

Carol at No Sheeples Here has a fair-tale read on the current administration, replete with rainbow-trailing unicorn graphic. Thankfully the One is sporting a suit, and not in the buff.

I've got a similarly counter-factual project in the works. The early reviews are somewhat brutal, but let me tease a bit, to motivate my editing:

Oscar Wilde: There is a fine line between delightfully clever and deserving cleaver. By the time it reaches Smitty, that line separates a morning star and a machete.

"Half-Cocked" Jack: Never has me inability to read been such a blessing.

You go, Carol!

BLOOD ON HIS HANDS:Whole Foods CEO John MackeyKills 21,900 Every Year!

America's No. 1 problem? A decline in the quality of union goons. Take these United Food and Commercial Workers people trying to boycott Whole Foods because the company's CEO wrote a WSJ op-ed critical of ObamaCare. Matt Welch quotes their propaganda handout:

John Mackey is a right wing libertarian. . . .
He has just launched a campaign to defeat a single payer national health insurance system. . . .
And the problem with Mackey's campaign is that it results in the deaths of 60 Americans every day due to lack of health insurance. (Emphasis added.)

Wow, talk about "burying the lede"! And they forget one of the basic rules of propaganda: The bigger number is alway better. Do the math, people:

60 x 365 = 21,900

According to UFCW, Mackey might as well be cruising the streets with an Uzi, gunning down the innocent:

"Die, you random uninsured bastards!"

This merely confirms my longstanding suspicions toward these "crunchy cons" types. Just think of all the people who die every year after choking on organic tofu.

Too bad for Obama that his success is dependent on second-raters like these UFCW clowns who can't even write halfway decent radical propaganda.

More at Michelle Malkin, Gay Patriot and Instapundit. Via Memeorandum.

Shocking report uncovers U.S. abuses

The torture of Filipino guerrillas 1899-1902! German POWs roughly manhandled by doughboys in 1918! Eyewitness accounts of GI atrocities against innocent residents of the Solomon Islands in 1942!

Yes, all this and more, coming soon from Newsweek, which today features this dramatic summary:

A long-awaited report on post-9/11 interrogation tactics will reveal harrowing new details about treatment of suspected terrorists.

This sort of stuff is not surprising if you are old enough to remember the post-Watergate era, after Democrats won a huge congressional majority in the 1974 mid-terms and proceeded to "expose" misdeeds of the FBI, CIA and the Pentagon, and impose various "reforms" that had the effect, in combination, of nearly destroying our nation's ability to fight crime, prevent espionage or win wars.

Disapproving of torture is one thing. Emasculating America's anti-terrorism capacity is something else entirely. And it is always wrong to fret over the "rights" of a bloodthirsty animal (e.g., Abd al-Rahim al-Nashiri, mastermind of the USS Cole bombing) for whom there could be no legitimate complaint of injustice if one of our troops had put a 7.62-mm slug through his skull.

Did you protest Obamacare today?

by Smitty

I met ~15 patriots today at the office of my local tool.
The cell phone is not a blogging platform. Will flesh this out later.
For now, rmember that one of the chief ramifications of Hopium and Changeeba is that politics has ceased to be a spectator sport.
Your sins of omission to participate on whatever level you can will be held against your freedom and your wallet.

Update:
The protest was small, but fun. The first question was, are we in the right place?
Note Google Maps:

This agrees with his website.
So, we're left to wonder: where is our trusty representative?

Probably he's unused to having groups of citizens show up to tell him what a piece of work they think the 111th Congress is.
Well, we're planning on sharing the love with him on Tuesday, over in Reston, VA.

That anyone turned up on such short notice was impressive. Especially in the absence of any formal organization whatsoever. This district is completely blue. Wikipedia says Moran took the Oath of Office in 1991. To where he took the oath is unclear. Twenty years of this jackanapes is sufficient.
The family photo was small, but give us time.

Few More Jerry Raids Await

Few More Jerry Raids Await

by Smitty

Track-a-'Crat and I were out to Inglourious Basterds last night. If you take it as a comic book, the movie is an entertaining vehicle. At one point, ordering a glass of milk takes on sinister overtones. If you take the movie seriously, it falls apart. The characters are paper thin and the whole plot is counter-factual.
As with Pulp Fiction, the title encapsulates the film: the spelling errors in IB are a clue as to what you're getting. Tarentino is a truth-in-labeling kind of fellow, and should be respected for that.

They told me if I voted for McCain that the state would merge with the church, and they weren't just shuffling prayer mats!

• Obi's Sister is off jury duty, and amazed out the pace of Changeeba and
  Hopium.
• Hyscience isn't buying co-ops. They're like coops with a dash of punctuation.
• Belvederus Maximus has the best roundup on the topic. As if that's surprising.

Legislation of Death

• The Daily Pundit says "Under socialized medicine, child molesters get Viagra, but granny gets her blood pressure meds pulled."
• Momma Pundette linked in a roundup of news of the 'God in Heaven' variety. Pray for peace.
• Ruby Slippers had an excellent roundup, linking the Rick Lowry post.
• Reganite Republican Resistance has a lengthy analysis of Obama's political condition.
• Carol rounds things up nicely.
• Jimmie breaks in with a primo clip from Airplane! about the left's characterization of Sarah Palin.
• The Classic Liberal picked up the Maureen Dowd riff.
• Carolyn puts it succinctly: What they don't seem to get is that they are energizing the anti-ObamaCare folks with each falsehood they put out.

Protest Photos

• Carolyn complements this blog via image theft. You can't damage our images any further, but have a go nonetheless.
• The Daley Gator had mooched the pictures first.

On the departure of the Prince of Darkness
Linked by the following:

• Obi's Sister
• Crankycon
• Pundit & Pundette
• American Power
• Right View from the Left Coast
• Lead and Gold
• The Camp of the Saints.

Grand Canyon

• Grand Rants gave an Oh, Barf to the POTUS Grand Canyon pic.
• Nice Deb gave it an Enchanted Media Moment.

Here, wall: a bit o' primer

• Moe lane picked up Stacy's anti-primer crusade. One subtlety is that, with a long 'i' vowel, primer goes on the wall. With a short 'i' vowel, the word describes that which makes one prim and proper. Stand by for a smirk from me if you fumble the shibboleth in conversation.

At least it wasn't LaTreena

• Obi's Sister wants to have Stacy engage in psyops against a rival sports team. The question is, has following IG-Gate improved Stacy's unethical practices sufficiently?
• Whereas Melissa Clouthier had a light meditatio called Do names determine behavior?.
• He's got his mojo working ,says Bob Belvedere

On Geekiness

• The Fat Guy says:

  I’ve never had a Heinlein obsession, but I’ve never had an electric guitar, either. I’m not going to rattle off my manliness bona-fides. It’s unbecoming.

2996 Project
I'll be honoring a Naval Reservist present in the Navy Command Center

• Obi's Sister is a supporter.
• I see I was #76 on the list, via Comedy Plus. This is more the tragedy portion.

Readers Indigestion

• Wizwow quotes Stacy.
• Lead and Gold:

  The Reader's Digest did not need consultants. It just needed a great editor who did not have contempt for the core market.
  

Great Headlines

• Rightofcourse reached for the Lady Macbeth title.

They can't sell cars to the sane, but they can sell crap to the electorate.

• Liberal Smash wonders aloud at Cash for Clunkers.

Miscellaneous Shouts:

• Moe hat tips us for pointing out Gene Lyons' silliness
• Carol did spledid work on her Jon Voight post
• The Washington Independent links us, focusing on the periferal issue of birthers. Nicely independent touch, this majoring on the minors. Cui Bono?
• Getting quoted in The Economist earns a link Troglopundit. Yes!
• Steynian continues to scare me.
• Stacy posted at Winds of Babylon, though it seems incestuous to link ourselves this way
• Thanks for the excellent summary of recent domestic events by JSF. Well worth your time.
• WyBlog reminds us that taxes are for little people.
• Rhetorican linked us on the public option.
• Jimmie has a description on astroturfing that shall not be confused with a primer.
• Teach at Pirate's Cove linked the government cheese quip.
• Trog reminds us why we don't upset Carol.
• Jimmie liked the humor test.
• Bob Belvedere picked up the Frum-drubbing, the Color of Change, my 'racist' post about vampires (who knew he was such a fan of the undead?), the government cheese remark,
  the Spectator piece on GOP revival, a Gerson slam, and, finally, he curses me for breaking out the Circle Jerks on Peggy Noonan (which is less wierd than it sounds),

Heading down to Representative Jim Moran's office. I need to tell him what a great thing it is that the Inglourious Basterds are purely fictional. We don't ever want any of that to occur in real
life. However, he should feel free to draw a lesson from the film in any case.
Please forgive my hasty oversights and send corrections and URLs to Smitty.

Update:
Fishersville Mike had linked us here on the Phoenix protests. What ends up happening sometimes, and I think this is was the case, is that my Technorati-scraper will have a line it in that says http://fishersvillemike.blogspot.com, and I just let it fall on the floor, lacking time to figure out where we were linked in every case.
Thanks for keeping me straight, Mike.

That's the spirit, Carol!

Over at No Sheeples Here, Carol's populist flock is now flying the Gadsden Flag:

Rumors that Carol has gotten "Don't Tread on Me" tattooed in a special place could not be confirmed this morning. But until the rumors are denied . . .

Jon Voight is right

A friend from The Washington Times Jennifer Harper scores an interview:

"There's a real question at stake now. Is President Obama creating a civil war in our own country?" Mr. Voight tells Inside the Beltway.
"We are witnessing a slow, steady takeover of our true freedoms. We are becoming a socialist nation, and whoever can't see this is probably hoping it isn't true. If we permit Mr. Obama to take over all our industries, if we permit him to raise our taxes to support unconstitutional causes, then we will be in default. This great America will become a paralyzed nation."

Left-wing bloggers are howling bloody murder over Voight's observative, but have any them -- including Alex Koppelman and Logan Murphy -- bothered to read F.A. Hayek's The Road to Serfdom lately?

Well, I have, and what I see is how by relentlessly pushing for the expansion of government and, just as relentlessly accusing all opponents of mala fides, the Obama administration is bringing us to this all-or-nothing crossroads on that slow road toward totalitarianism that Hayek discerned 65 years ago.

When advocates of limited government try to point this out, of course, the Left immediately screams, "What about Bush?" And who can say them nay?

Every Republican who voted for the Orwellian-named USA Patriot Act, every Republican who voted for No Child Left Behind and Medicare prescription drugs -- every Republican, in other words, who abandoned the limited-government principles of Reagan -- is at fault for having given the Left this opportunity. And I guarantee you, as soon as I publish this, I will be attacked by some Republican who considers it "unrealistic" or "impractical" to criticize, inter alia, NCLB.

Some of these soi-dissant conservatives don't give a damn about how big government is, as long as Republicans are in charge, which tends to make me suspect they view "conservatism" as a convenient synonym for "jobs for the boys."

If the Left's opponents do not resolve to stand firmly on the rock of limited government, they'll never be able to stand at all.

More conservative reaction from Don Surber, No Sheeples Here and Gay Patriot.

All Girls Named Tonya (Part 2)Don't Start Me Talking . . .

Don't start me talking.
Oh, I could talk all night.
My mind was sleepwalking
While I didn't know what to write . . .
-- Elvis Costello, "Oliver's Army"

She is a respected Atlanta businesswoman now, but after reading the story I had e-mailed her, she felt the need to call her old classmate from Turner Middle School and Lithia Spring High. Bad boy though I was, Vicky remembered me as having been a nerd -- a "brain" -- in middle school, which may explain how I eventually became so dangerous.

What kind of hoodlum plays trombone in the school band? Actually, lots of us, although bad as the trombone section was, we weren't total outlaws like Mike Stevens and the drum line.

For some reason, low brass and drummers were always the evil guys in band. Whatever happened to my hoodlum buddy Bo Collins, who was also so talented on the French horn, baritone and flugelhorn? Bo's sister was a majorette, as was Susan McDade and . . .

I digress. By eighth grade, when I managed to sneak a peek down Vicky's blouse -- a glimpse that permanently etched itself in memory -- her days as a nice girl were rapidly disappearing in the rearview mirror.

Vicky and I talked for more than an hour Friday afternoon, and at one point she began naming her boyfriends in consecutive order, beginning with Forrest Bennett, the first boy she ever kissed. Forrest, whose good looks I always envied, was probably the first kiss for a lot of girls in Lithia Springs, and more than kissing, too. He died a few years ago when he dove into a too-shallow swimming pool and broke his neck.

Vicky named Forrest and about three or four other guys as having been her boyfriends up through seventh grade. Then, one day she and Ginger Whiteside did some blotter acid.

"After that, I was pretty much everybody's girlfriend," she said.

Ah, Vicky -- but you were never my girlfiend!

Bad Boys, Wild Girls and Cool Cars
Bad as I tried to be, I never had a cool car, and girls like Vicky only rode with guys who had cool cars. Even after I grew my hair down to my shoulders, learned to play guitar, and became running buddies with one of the biggest dope dealers at Lithia Springs High (a saxophone player and math geek who bought his first ounce of Columbian goldbud from me) I was never cool enough for Vicky.

Kirby, however, was that cool. In high school, my older brother drove a red Mustang with a 289 V-8 -- a few years later, it was replaced with a green Chevy SS -- and he also had dark hair, a mustache and a cool charm that his goofy younger brother could never quite match.

Vicky and I had talked for more than an hour, and I had already twice said, "Well, it's been nice talking to you . . ." when I mentioned Kirby, who still lives in Douglas County.

"Oh, yeah, I remember Kirby," she said. "One time, I had a menage a trois in a motel with Kirby and T----- G-----."

Like Vicky, TG was a former cheerleader. The threesome occurred, Vicky said, about 1978 or '79, in a motel off Thorton Road. Her mother had finally kicked her out of the house, and Vicky was dating a South American gentleman who was in the import-export business, so she had a lot of cocaine. Also, she had a supply of valium to take the edge off, as necessary when she needed to get some sleep.

So naturally, Vicky managed to hook up with Kirby. By 1979, my older brother had already been in the Army (101st Airborne), been married, fathered a son named Tony, and gotten divorced. Exactly how Vicky's menage with Kirby and TG came about . . . well, the details are kind of fuzzy in Vicky's memory.

Puking and Other Memorable Events
That's one thing about being a survivor of the '70s. You know you engaged in some bizarre decadence back in the day, but the details tend to be a bit sketchy. For example, I mentioned to Vicky that 1977 Led Zeppelin concert -- the last time Zep played the old Omni in Atlanta, on their last world tour before John Bonham died -- a memorable occasion of which I actually remember only bits and pieces.

"Oh, yeah!" she said. "I went to that with Tim Foreman and his brother John. I don't remember anything from that. Except I'm pretty sure I puked."

Puking at rock concerts was routine back in the day. I puked at my first concert in 1975 -- Rod Stewart and the Faces. Jeff Beck was also on the bill and the opening act that night was a band from Boston that was just then becoming nationally known for songs like "Sweet Emotion" and "Dream On." I went to that concert with an older guy named Tony Wheeler, whose skinny redheaded sister, Becky, played flute in the band. I'd briefly gotten to second base with Becky our freshman year, on a band trip to Florida, but don't remember exactly how I ended up hanging out with her older brother a year later when his date for the Rod Stewart concert called to cancel.

What I remember is that we bootlegged a pint of Canadian Mist whiskey into the concert, shared it with some guys behind us who reciprocated by sharing their weed, and. . . Well, I don't remember Aerosmith at all. I remember that Jeff Beck was a jerk who stormed off the stage after complaining of problems with the P.A. system. I remember Rod Stewart's encore was "Twisting the Night Away." And I remember puking.

Hereditary Traits
That's how the '70s were. So, of course, my older brother's three-way with Vicky and TG remains in Vicky's memory only as fragments.

"I remember doing it in the bathtub with Kirby," she says. "And I think it was just like, hey, let's get T---- in here so she can try this."

Vicky did, however, recall a certain detail -- some traits are hereditary -- which confirmed her story to the necessary degree of certainty required by a professional journalist. And a phone call to Kirby added more details.

First of all, Kirby didn't remember the names of either Vicky or TG. He vaguely recalled TG having been a cheerleader at Douglas County High, but did not realize that Vicky had been a former classmate of mine.

Kirby was in a bar -- probably the Crystal Palace, a rowdy Southside after-hours club on Stewart Avenue -- when he met Vicky and her friend. He invited them to go smoke a joint.

So, Kirby says, they were riding around getting high in his Chevy when Vicky said, "F--- this smoking-a-joint stuff. I've got a bunch of coke. Let's go get a hotel room."

Kirby got home about 1 p.m. the next day and was cooking himself something to eat when the phone rang. It was Vicky saying, "Hey, I got some more coke. You want to come over again?"

When he went back, Kirby said, Vicky was there with a different girl than her girlfriend from the night before. Evidently, Vicky had been telling another one of her friends about the wild ride on this thoroughbred champion -- "Give him some coke and he'll go all night" -- which had occasioned the invitation for a repeat performance.

Vicky definitely remembered Kirby, and when I called her back to tell her Kirby's side of the story, she was a bit hurt that he'd forgotten her name. (As I said before, she is no longer known as "Vicky.") She didn't remember how she'd ran into him and had forgotten the name of the Crystal Palace, but she did remember that her rendezvous with my brother lasted more than one night.

"Oh, we might have partied for two or three days," she said. "I did that all the time. It was crazy back then."

Survivors, Casualties and Mysteries
A few weeks later, Vicky moved in with that South American businessman, who had a mansion in Midtown, and things got even crazier. The mansion was often the scene of wild coke-fueled orgies and one day Vicky regained consciousness -- "I didn't wake up, I came to" -- and looked around.

Naked bodies were sprawled everywhere, and there were still two big lines of coke, apparently laid out the night before by someone who must have passed out before snorting them.

"I remember saying to myself, if I don't get out of here, I'm gonna die," Vicky remembers. And soon she moved away to Athens. She didn't quit partying, but she had passed a turning point. She had made the decision that led to her survival.

"It's only by the pure grace of God that I'm still here," she says.

When I got that glimpse down Vicky's blouse during an eighth-grade class at Turner Middle School, that must have been about May 1973. She had already taken fateful steps, beginning when she dropped acid with Ginger Whiteside.

Ginger was killed instantly in a car accident while we were in high school. She was 15 or 16, I think. Vicky said she's still got the obituary somewhere, but she remembers something odd about Ginger: She had often predicted she would die young, as if knowing she was doomed from the day she was born to be riding in that brand-new Corvette that wiped out on Sweetwater Road. And at Ginger's funeral, the song they played was "Time" by Pink Floyd:

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day.
Fritter and waste the hours in an off hand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town,
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

Ah, memories. It was the '70s, so the details of some events are sketchy, and lead to mysterious questions. For example, why did I never get past second base with Becky Wheeler? And whatever happened to Bo Collins?

Still, I do remember Ginger's sad eyes. And I remember Vicky when she was a pretty blonde cheerleader at Turner Middle School.

She was naturally thin, with a delicate bone structure and long slender legs. For some reason, however, Vicky had never been one of those girls I had crushes on, like Carol Purdy. Until that spring day in 1973 when she wore a certain blouse and leaned over a certain way, so that at a certain angle I could see . . .

Oh, some things you never forget.

* * * * *

All Girls Names Tonya (And Other Lessons of a Misspent Youth) -- click here to read Part One -- is one of those books that no publisher in their right mind would ever pay me to write. But if you don't think these stories are completely worthless, please hit the tip jar.

UPDATE: Part Three: The Disturbing Case of David Copperfield.

Wayne Allen Root does Reason TV

Interviewed by Matt Welch:

Wayne's book: The Conscience of a Libertarian

Operation Yard Sale?

Remember when the federal government waged war against al-Qaeda terrorists? Now they're at war with a new enemy: Second-hand toys!

If you're planning a garage sale or organizing a church bazaar, you'd best beware: You could be breaking a new federal law. As part of a campaign called Resale Roundup, the federal government is cracking down on the secondhand sales of dangerous and defective products.
The initiative, which targets toys and other products for children, enforces a new provision that makes it a crime to resell anything that's been recalled by its manufacturer.

Via Newsalert.

Gene Lyons, they'll hate you for this

You won't win the healthcare debate
by calling people stupid racists

Gnashing of teeth! Rending of garments! How will Democrats succeed without their most reliable tactics?

Steyn on Hugh Hewitt

by Smitty

Hugh Hewitt has Mark Steyn free-associating to Newsweek, among other bits of brilliance. Excellent.

Update:
The last ten minutes with Andrew Breitbart are well worth your time, also.

'Dear God in Heaven'

So says Pundette after learning that, under the British socialized medicine system, a repeat-offender child molester is being prescribed Viagra at taxpayer expense.

Really. Can you anyone think of anything else to say? Not even "death panels" constitute a more concise argument against ObamaCare.

Punk bands over pundits

by Smitty (h/t Kathryn Jean Lopez)

Oh Peggy. "Pull the Plug on ObamaCare", you say, as gently as possible. You cast Obamacare opposite Hillarycare, as if Congress was first supposed to create a fine mess,

And at the end, in the fall, the beauty part: The president swoops in and saves the day, forcing together an ultimate and more moderate plan that doesn't contain the more controversial elements but does constitute a successful first step toward universal health care.

That's not what happened.

It all got hotter, quicker than the White House expected. The many plans of Congress congealed in the public mind into one plan, and the one plan became a poison pool. The president is now immersed in it.

Saved by the passive voice, the poor wee "wee-weed" President.

The Circle Jerks underscore the President's 'record', with a bladder-load of legislative blather on disc...

Come to think of it, that 'release' does contain some advice that's scatalogical, echoes the president, and is about as useful as anything coming out of the likes of Noonan and Krugman:

"When the s**t hits the fan"
in a sluggish economy
inflation,recession
hits the land of the free
standing in unemployment lines
blame the government for hard time

we just get by
however we can
we all gotta duck
when the s**t hits the fan

10 kids in a cadillac
stand in lines for welfare checks
let's all leach off the state
gee! the money's really great!

soup lines
free loaves of bread
5lb blocks of cheese
bags of groceries
social security
has run out on you and me
we do whatever we can
gotta duck when the s**t hits the fan

Here it is on YouTube:

Back to the Noonan, starry-eyed, as with a thousand points of light.

Every big idea that works is marked by simplicity, by clarity. You can understand it when you hear it, and you can explain it to people. Social Security: Retired workers receive a public pension to help them through old age. Medicare: People over 65 can receive taxpayer-funded health care. Welfare: If you have no money and cannot support yourself, we will help as you get back on your feet.
These things are clear. I understand them. You understand them.

You understand that the economics fail, lady? You could as reasonably wish water would flow uphill.

• The Constitution was never amended to support entitlement concepts at the Federal level.
• The demographics don't supply the necessary population to feed the beast.
• The moral hazard of that much cash before Congresses composed of that little integrity was too much.

Get Over It!

And when normal people don't know what the words mean, they don't say to themselves, "I may not understand, but my trusty government surely does, and will treat me and mine with respect." They think, "I can't get what these people are talking about. They must be trying to get one past me. So I'll vote no."

Normal people do understand this much: when things are too complex, money is moving from Wallet A to Wallet B. If you don't understand the mechanism (and I'll bet a pizza that your condescending butt does not, at any useful level of detail) then you are Wallet A. Was that explanation simple enough?

In a more beautiful world, the whole health-care chapter could become, for the president, that helpful thing, the teachable moment. The president the past month has been taught a lot by the American people. It's all there in the polls. He could still step back, rethink, say it didn't work, promise to return with something better.

When presidents make clear, with modesty and even some chagrin, that they have made a mistake but that they've learned a lesson and won't be making it again, the American people tend to respond with sympathy. It is our tradition and our impulse.

Peggy, I understand you're Roman Catholic, so let me tell you directly: this more beautiful world is the Kingdom of Heaven, ushered in by the return of the carpenter. Short of that, just give it up. Modulo individual, random acts of beauty, the world is a circle of jerks.

Article V is the appropriate place to start. If the POTUS and the Congress That Shall Live in Infamy don't start at square one, then I say they should all stand impeached for failure to carry out their oaths.

As for you, Peggy, lose the purple prose and acquire some historical and economic analysis, or continue to seem less useful than a punk rock band.