The Pesky Truth About Stuff — Some Serious, Some Satire

by Garnet92

Pesky Truth is really about two things: serious political writings and satirical pieces where I get to poke fun at the politicians who are supposedly representing us, the people.

NOTE: This is a special link to the satire portion of our content. These are funny exposés of some of our most “beloved” politicians (like Barack Obama, Joe Biden, Dianne Feinstein, etc.), click HERE.

This newest satirical piece is all about Obama’s Stupendous, Spectacular, Sequestration Tour, Ch. 4 – The Vacation Comes to an End”  - check it out  NEW!

Serious writings about politics and gun control:

How Do We Make Sense of Obama’s, Clinton’s and Panetta’s Actions during the Benghazi Attack?  Obama, Hillary, et al, did what was politically expedient in handling Benghazi and now are trying to cover up their botched mismanagement  [May 12, 2013]  NEW!

“No one is asking you to give up your guns”  No, they’re not ASKING, they’re trying to FORCE us to give up our guns [Apr. 13, 2013]

“I Misspoke” and Other Lies  Now, we have “no fault” lying  [Apr. 8, 2013]

The Book of Progressivism  How the “progressives” determine what they’re FOR and what they’re AGAINST – it’s really very simple  [Apr. 1, 2013]

Guns, Politics, and Poll Dancing  The gun show “loophole” and polls  [Mar. 14, 2013] 

When Seconds Count …  More guns on the street = declining crime  [Feb. 25, 2013] 

Real life “what if” Scenarios:

You hear glass breaking … A family can’t fight back without a gun  [Jan. 30, 2013]

If a teacher had been armed … Adam Lanza could have been stopped  [Jan. 6, 2013]

Why carry a handgun?

Reason and Force  Only two ways to convince someone, reason or force  [Feb. 4, 2013]

Sandy Hook, Adam Lanza and Arming Teachers:

Adam Lanza broke the law  (by my count, 38 of them)  [Dec. 29, 2012]  NOTE: this post was updated with new information on April 7, 2013

Arming teachers: How it could work  This is an idea for arming (trained) teachers and how hardening schools could work to save our kids  [Dec. 28, 2012]

Where Was Obama?

[NOTE: This was also posted at Nox and Friends blog]

Where was Obama? What was he doing the night of the Benghazi attack?

Why are his whereabouts a mystery?

It’s obvious that the White House doesn’t want us to know.

I’m going to make a guess. Admittedly, I have no inside sources, no “Deep Throat,” just a semi-educated guess. Let’s start by asking ourselves some simple, logical questions.

How difficult would it be to say that “he was in the Oval Office with his advisors” or “he was in the Situation Room with his advisors?” Could he have been in the movie theater? Or bowling a few frames in the bowling alley? Isn’t it logical that he and staff would be in the technically state-of-the-art Situation Room? That’s where I’d be.

All we have are vague statements that Obama was (somewhere) in the 55,000 sq. ft. White House and in touch with his security people. On Fox News Sunday, the president’s Senior Advisor, Dan Pfeiffer stubbornly refused to answer Chris Wallace’s simple, direct question: “Where was the president during the Benghazi attack?” Pfeiffer flatly refused to give a direct answer – again, one has to wonder why.

In contrast, we knew where Obama was on the evening of May 1^st, 2011. We saw a full complement of officials and brass watching video of the raid on Osama bin Laden’s compound as it occurred. We could see Obama as he watched the raid; it was a photo-op to show that he was engaged and in charge. Where were they? In the Situation Room of course.

So, when told of the attack on our State Department facility in Benghazi, isn’t it logical that he would want to be fully informed of what was happening? There was audio coming from the ground, and during the last hour, there was at least one (some reports say two) Predator drone(s) flying above, sending back pictures. Isn’t it logical to assume that he (and his National Security staff) would again gather in the Situation Room in the White House?

But wait a minute …

If it was revealed that he was in the Situation Room during the attack, that would make him completely aware of real-time events, and since he is Commander-in-Chief and the buck stops with him, he would have been in a position to approve or deny any action(s) that might have been available.

Suppose, for a moment, that Obama was in the Situation Room during the attack, was getting reports of the activities – and did nothing to save those brave Americans. In fact, what if he were the one who denied approval to send reinforcements? Suppose he gave the “stand down” order to his staff?

Wouldn’t admitting that be worse than not revealing where he was or what he was doing?

I believe that the White House’s stubborn refusal to reveal where the president was during the attack is because that knowledge would be more damming than the flack they’ll continue to take from refusing to answer.

Remember that this was just under a year before the Presidential election and Obama didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize his chances.

I suspect that his advisors told him that they probably couldn’t save any American lives even if he told the fast strike team to go immediately. And worse, if anything went wrong as a result of the “rescue” team being sent, it would be viewed as another Mogadishu and his reelection would be in jeopardy. So his decision (albeit one that I’m sure he didn’t relish) was to let them die.

He should have sent help, but instead, he did nothing. That’s his strong suit; he doesn’t take responsibility for anything until after it proves successful, others take the blame for anything that fails.

I believe that the president weighed his options and decided that sending help could not assure a successful outcome and the damages that could result from a failed attempt were not acceptable when viewed in the light of his reelection.

The exposure of his actions if they were similar to what I just described would have doomed Obama’s reelection bid. It’s obvious that they couldn’t admit to such a callous decision, so what do they do? They lie, deceive, obfuscate, spin, etc. – anything to hide the truth. It is the one thing that this White House is adept at.

I believe that the president was in the Situation Room and was engaged as our ambassador and three other citizens were slaughtered – and did nothing to save them – and now, he is now trying to cover it up.

 

How Do We Make Sense of Obama’s, Clinton’s and Panetta’s Actions during the Benghazi Attack?

The following summation was taken from the last page of an article in the PJ Tattler by Bryan Preston, on May 7, 2013.

The full article is about his theory regarding Obama’s, Panetta’s, and Clinton’s actions (and perhaps those of David Axelrod) the night of the attack on Benghazi:

Barack Obama comes to the job of the presidency with no command experience at all. His career included years as an adjunct professor and a community organizer before becoming the senator best known for voting “present” in Illinois. He was never a leader when he was in the U.S. Senate. His experience is chiefly as an agitator against command, not in exercising command itself. The largest effort he had ever run had been his own campaign for president, and it’s debatable how much of that he ran and how much was run for him by his lieutenant, David Axelrod.

Just weeks before the election, the Benghazi attack threatened to undo Obama’s carefully crafted al Qaeda campaign narrative. That night, during the attack, President Barack Obama had no idea what to do. He is not a born or trained commander. With lives and American prestige in his hands, he flinched. He stayed true to his character and voted “present.”

Two debacles of the past were probably foremost in his mind and in the mind of David Axelrod, who was probably involved in decision-making during the attack: Desert One and Mogadishu. Desert One was a U.S. rescue attempt in Iran in 1980 that ended in humiliating failure, and contributed to the building narrative that President Jimmy Carter was not up to the job of the presidency. Mogadishu, Somalia, in 1993 handed the U.S. military and President Bill Clinton a humiliating public-relations defeat in what turned out to be an early battle against al Qaeda. Osama bin Laden later turned Mogadishu into a rallying point, using it to cast America as a “paper tiger” that would run from a real fight. Both Desert One and Mogadishu happened under Democratic presidents, both began as military rescues, and both were failures. Desert One helped cost President Carter his job. Benghazi threatened to cost Barack Obama his.

The night of the Benghazi attack, Obama had command authority and responsibility in his hands, and he froze. His inexperience in command — he never served in the military, and none of his close cabinet members ever served in the military — and his eye on the election owned his mind. He ordered the stand-down (an order which must ultimately have come from him as the commander-in-chief) to preserve his political narrative as best he could by avoiding any possibility of suffering both an undeniable terrorist attack and a Mogadishu catastrophe on his watch. He chose to let four Americans die rather than risk sending in any rescue attempt, because the potential political optics were so dire. He chose to blame a movie for the same reason his Defense Department has chosen to call the Ft. Hood massacre “workplace violence” rather than a terrorist attack, which it was. Acknowledging the truth could destroy his precious narrative and cost him the election.

In this theory, then, Panetta, Obama and Clinton actually were communicating during the attack. Axelrod was also involved, which itself should be a scandal as he is not in the national security loop. He is a political adviser. But because of Obama’s actions during the battle and Clinton’s refusals to improve security before, they have chosen to lie to preserve their own respective political positions. Panetta, ever the party man, has played along to defend the Democratic Party from any consequences if Axelrod’s role is exposed. If they acknowledge that they were communicating during the attack, they acknowledge that Obama was in command and that he ultimately failed and left four Americans to die. Or, they acknowledge that he misread the attack so badly that he never bothered to authorize a rescue until it was too late, then ordered a stand-down to avoid a Mogadishu situation. They are covering up their collective failure to secure the U.S. mission before the attack, they are covering up Obama’s failure to send forces to the rescue that night, and they used the movie to prop up Obama’s crumbling al Qaeda narrative long enough to get past the election, which after all was only a few weeks away. In at least the latter, they succeeded.

This theory doesn’t account for everything, nor does it attempt to. It doesn’t account for why Stevens was in Benghazi that night, for instance, and it doesn’t account for why Clinton’s State Department left the mission so exposed. It doesn’t account for what the U.S. mission in Benghazi was doing, or whether it was involved in any way in the war in Syria. But it does try to account for Obama’s and Panetta’s and Clinton’s actions that night, which on their face make no sense.

The article is about what the three individuals most intimately involved in the Benghazi event did or didn’t do and Preston’s theory about their motives. It’s my favorite of the theories (so far) to explain who likely did what and why. It is supposition to be sure, but I find it to be entirely believable and based on known facts.

Whether you believe the reason for the attack to be related to gun-running (missile-running) or a botched kidnapping scheme, Preston’s theories hold up.

This is the most egregious example of political ass-covering that I’ve ever seen. I was an aware adult during Nixon’s Watergate cover-up and it was dumb and stupid – and he paid the price for it. At least he had the guts to resign before impeachment proceedings began. And I remember Bill Clinton’s White House antics, Monica’s cigar “smoking,” and the bimbo eruptions, wag the dog, etc. and even though he wasn’t forced out of office, at least he was impeached.

But, nothing comes close to this snafu – a classic example of FUBAR (if you don’t know that acronym, Google it). Four men died, including our Ambassador, and United States prestige got a black eye from a group of rag-heads – and apparently, those consequences were viewed as acceptable by this administration as the price he was willing to pay for his reelection. I wonder what the over/under would have been on the number of other lives he would have been willing to sacrifice to win reelection?

How REPUGNANT is that?

What were the president, secretary of state, and secretary of defense doing while our citizens were being murdered?

Apparently, they were busily trying to concoct some narrative that would absolve them of any responsibility. Insulate them politically, as it were.

It wasn’t their fault that security was sub-par, it wasn’t their fault that no help was sent, it wasn’t their fault that someone told the Special Forces team to stand down, it wasn’t their fault that a pack of lies was fed to the American people. And even as evidence mounts to the contrary, they refuse to admit ANY wrongdoing – it wasn’t their fault – and besides, as Hillary said, what difference did any of that make?

Where were they as the events were happening? We know that they were aware of what was transpiring. They were getting a narration from people who were there as well as seeing drone images – they knew what was going on.

Where was the president? In his jammies, sleeping soundly, visions of reelection prancing about in his head? Of course, he was resting before his arduous and demanding campaign trip to Las Vegas the next day.

As bad as his other screw-ups have been (like ObamaCare & Fast and Furious), this is the worst – this time he’s gone too far.

I’m not a very religious man, but I do hope that they all burn in hell for what they’ve done – but that’s not enough – I want to see justice NOW, in this life. I want to see Hillary so badly tarnished that she can’t win a city council election and I want Obama IMPEACHED.

I will pray to God that he won’t serve out his time and that he will leave office in disgrace; chains and an orange jumpsuit would top that image off nicely.

 

Obama’s Stupendous, Spectacular, Sequestration Tour, Ch. 4 [satire]

Obama’s Frugal Vacation

Ch. 4, Who was behind the attack on Michelle’s derriere which made her the butt of Secret Service jokes?

NOTE: This is the 4th chapter of Obama’s frugal vacation. If you missed the first part, you can access it HERE – the second chapter is available HERE and the third chapter is available HERE. Ideally, they should be read in sequence. Be aware that they should also be considered “PG” rated for some adult language and situations.

It should also be noted that in writing this satire, I am following Rule Four created by one of Barack Obama’s mentors, Saul Alinsky (said to be the father of community organizing), who wrote in his book “Rules for Radicals” that “Ridicule is man’s most potent weapon.” I will do my best to honor his memory by ridiculing Barack Obama at every opportunity.

Luckily, the park director was able to get the catering firm to return to the park right away so the crew did finally get some lunch.

They also sent GPS coordinates to the doctor and he was on his way. Maybe things were looking up for our fearless travelers…

Benny Factor, DBM

It turns out that Doctor Benny Factor was not a real MD after all. He calls himself a doctor, but he’s only a doctor in the loosest form of the word, a “Doctor of Buttockal Manipulation” (DBM). He wears that proud title since he graduated from Bob’s Booty Academy in Hoboken.

Five days of intensive study of the female posterior (one day was devoted to super glue), and a ten question (true/false) examination resulted in a DBM diplomer (Bob couldn’t spell diploma) being granted to Dr. Factor. Now he could fondle all the butts he could get his hands on, reassuring his female patients by telling them, “It’s ok, I’m a doctor.”

He’d seen pictures of the First Lady’s meter-wide bottom and Dr. Benny wasn’t really enthusiastic about getting up close to Moochelle’s bum, but it was an opportunity for publicity that would be great for his practice.

Following his GPS to Riverside Park, he located the caravan and was brought to Airstream 9320 that would serve as the “operating” room.

Entering the trailer, he found the First Lady was ready, on her stomach on a couch. Her bottom was covered by a red-checkered tablecloth and an aide (Rachel Slurr) was standing by.

After brief introductions, the doctor began, “Well, let’s see what we have here.”

Slightly raising the tablecloth, Dr. Factor saw a white Bemis toilet seat, the Cadillac of cushioned seats, very nice … but … then … then … he saw Moochelle’s brown bottom and other stuff (look away, doc, look away!).

It was all he could do to keep his lunch down. This was going to be worse than he expected.

He’d have to use his Acme Bootyfree tool strictly by touch; he didn’t want to look directly at it. This would be tricky. He lifted the seat slightly to see how stuck it was. When he moved the seat, the attached blubber moved with it, causing Moochelle to release an inadvertent fart. But, dear reader, this was no ordinary passage of gas; no, it was more accurately described as the fart of a pregnant (and sick) water buffalo. It was one of those dreaded SBDs, and it just slowly hissssssessssssssssssed out – with a little wet burble at the end.

“Oh, my goodness, pardon me,” Moochelle laughed.

Yeah, maybe it was funny to her, but Dr. Benny saw his life pass before his eyes and saw a bright white light off in the distance. He was probably clinically dead for a minute or two from the noxious gas he’d inhaled.

Regaining his senses, he knew he couldn’t survive another fartal attack, so he had to act quickly – holding his breath, he doused his Acme Bootyfree with Acme Little Jiffy loosening solvent (nitromethane) and proceeded to roll it between the seat and her buttocks. Back and forth, back and forth, little by little, the vinyl seat released its grip on her bottom until finally, separation!

Moochelle felt the release and exclaimed, “Oh thank God.”

While Dr. Benny was separating seat from bottom, Rachel thought that she’d help out by lighting a match to burn off Moochelle’s noxious gas emission. She was startled when the flatus combined with the nitromethane fumes to produce a fuel-air flash … WHOOSH!

In something of a miracle, Dr. Benny escaped with only singed eyelashes, eyebrows, and arm hair and a decision to go into some other line of work. Moochelle had a case of the red ass, both literally and figuratively, and Rachel is now interviewing for a job as a bag lady.

Moochelle would ride the remainder of the trip standing up, riding in one of the Airstreams until her butt healed and she could sit again. By the way, don’t ever mention Boudreaux’s Butt Paste to her, unless you want to be beaten senseless.

Oz the magnificent returns

Just after Mochelle was separated from the toilet seat, and just as they were about to leave, a FedEx truck driver pulled up and delivered a special delivery package for Lucy Lasstic. It was OZ – the president’s teleprompter! Hallelujah! He would be able to speak coherently again!

In the short time before they departed, Lucy wrote Obama a brief pep talk as a kind of penance for forgetting to pack the teleprompter. The president did love being able to rouse his disciples with the power of his words. It warmed his cockles when he saw the adoration in their eyes and he really liked it when his cockles were all warm and toasty.

But there was a problem.

When the White House staff packed the TOTUS for shipment, they forgot to lock down the Freemish flange, so it was free to flop about (commando style). It flopped around a lot during the FedEx guy’s feverish drive from DC to Jacksonville. And everyone knows what kind of mischief can be caused by a freely flopping Freemish flange.

She quickly loaded her hastily written pep talk onto Oz’s hard drive so the president could use the teleprompter. He wanted to create some excitement for their final leg into Orlando. He was pleased to hear that Oz was back, he needed some good news.

“We’re about to leave, get Rhyce Aroni to help you set up and I’ll give ‘em a quick pep talk before we move out.”

Lucy and Rhyce set up the teleprompter in the bed of the yellow pickup and Obama would give his pep talk from there. He climbed aboard while the group started gathering around for his words of encouragement.

He was the consummate pro when it came to using a teleprompter. He had learned to turn off his own thought process and give himself totally to Oz, becoming “one with the machine.”

And now it was show time … Oz on … Obama off.

“Pooswallar num num, ahhh, frakin’ filamony, uhhh,” he paused, obviously confused, “ahhh bigmo sinkabooger, uhhh, and a mau mau testicle … ahhh shit .” His final two words were the only ones that anyone understood (he adlibbed those).

He’d had enough … he looked directly at Lucy. If looks could kill, Lucy was stone cold dead. Her heart sank, Oz hadn’t worked right, and she’d be blamed. After this, she’d be lucky to find herself a part-time job as sous-chef on a roach coach. Obama glared at her.

And then he tried to recover by doing the same thing he’d done before, asking the crowd, “Y’all with me?” And a few clapped unenthusiastically, a few barely hooted, and a couple hollered. This bit was getting old.

Obama was really disturbed. He’d been disrespected again – by that damned TOTUS.

Before jumping down from the pickup, he was so upset he turned and angrily kicked out at the teleprompter. His kick missed and he banged his kneecap on the side of the pickup bed. He kicked again. This time he connected, hitting TOTUS, which promptly retaliated by banging into the president’s shinbone. He kicked once more and Oz promptly fell hard on Obama’s instep.

Finally, in pain and conceding defeat, he gave up. Obama was helped down and limped away, pissed at losing a fight with his teleprompter.

Funny thing was, bystanders said they could swear that they saw a grin on Oz’s screen.

Where’s my Obama money?

Putting the teleprompter debacle behind them, they left Riverside Park and soon were driving down the road again. Finally the convoy was once more heading south on I-95.

Approaching St. Augustine, the lead pickup, driven by AC (Agent in charge) Phil Landerer, was surprised to see a toll booth ahead. He hadn’t been made aware of any toll portions of I-95 down here in Florida.

Their over-limit credit cards were not an option, no matter; they might be able to talk their way through it since this was the president’s caravan. Besides, he didn’t know how much the toll would be it (they’re usually based on axles) and would take forever to gather and distribute the cash to pay each rig’s toll as they passed through.

As luck would have it, the president was riding in the very last unit. They made a quick stop to bring him up to the lead pickup in the hopes that he could play the “president” card, and convince the toll taker to allow the caravan to pass without paying. The president’s vacation caravan ought to have some special privilege.

The lead truck finally made it to the Cash Only booth. A large black woman barely looked in their direction as she said automatically, “Ten dollars, please.”

Landerer leaned out and said, “Miss, do you
recognize who this guy is?”

Obama leaned forward, smiled broadly and waved at the toll taker. He was confident that she would light up, smile and exclaim how proud she was of him, and happily wave the whole convoy through.

“You really Obama?” she asked. He did look like the president, but what would the president be doing at her toll booth?

“Yes maam, I really am the president.”

And then it hit the fan …

“Yo Obama, I thought you was gunna pay my rent, and you was gunna give me free health, and all kinds of shit, from yo’ stash – where’s my stuff at?”

“I can’t buy no gas, I can’t get my hair done, I ain’t got no money left after I pays yo taxes. We was supposed to get some Obama money – where’s it at? Where’s ma motherf**kin’ Obama money?”

“Watchu doin – taking another motherf**kin’ vacation?” “Ah can’t take no vacation … ah ain’t got no money, you be takin’ all ma money!”

“You ain’t give me nuthin’ and I voted for you, fo’ times an’ I still ain’t got no cellphone.” “Where’s ma motherf**kin’ cellphone?”

“ … Come ‘round here like some kinda fool getting’ all up in ma face and shit …”

“I ain’t lettin’ you through less you pay me … where’s yo’ stash now, fool.”

The president was blown away by her response. This was a black woman, an Obama supporter, an Obama voter, and she was chewing him out – how could this be?

“Please miss, I’m sorry, it’s not my fault. It’s those darned Republicans, they won’t let me do what I want to do. It’s not my fault. I’ve been trying, sista.”

Whoa, that did it; she was really pissed now, “Sista? Sista? Dontchu be callin’ me sista, I ain’t yo sista an you aint no brotha! You can kiss my black ass sucka! You ain’t done nuthin’! You ain’t no better than that mother**kin’ white dude Rommy, you ain’t no different!”

“… mother**kin’ fool …”

Recognizing that they’d be wise to get away from this disgruntled citizen, and fast, Landerer gave her a twenty dollar bill and said, “This’ll pay for the next pickup too” and floored it as soon as the gate lifted. The Ram pickup squealed the tires even with the Airstream behind it.

Luckily, the drivers and passengers managed to come up with $10.00 in cash for each of the other ten pickup/trailer combinations, but it still took all twelve rigs almost twenty minutes to clear the toll plaza.

The toll taker never stopped ranting at the president, mumbling the entire time she was passing the rigs through the toll plaza. They could just make out bits and pieces of her tirade about Obama, and how she wasn’t getting hers.

Oh, and she called him a “motherf**kin’ fool “a lot.

Relieved to be past another low point in what had been expected to be a restful, leisurely drive down the east coast, the president was visibly shaken. He couldn’t believe how badly he’d been treated during his vacation journey. Maybe he was wrong about his agenda and how he viewed the country’s citizens as nothing more than peons and peasants – merely there to do his bidding and pay their taxes. Maybe he was wrong … could he be wrong?

Naaah … black or white, they were all just stupid dumbass ignorant fools; after all, they elected him didn’t they? They were lucky to have him as their leader. He was still right, he was always right, he would always be right.

Obama the Magnificent smiled – it was good to be the king.

The convoy finally reached Daytona Beach a little over an hour later. While they had originally planned to tour the speedway, they were running behind and decided to skip the tour and continue to the interchange with I-4 to save time. Luckily, the transition to Interstate 4 went without incident and they were now only about 90 miles away from Orlando, their final destination. What could go wrong now?

The president gets the bird

Obama was still riding in the lead pickup, trying to emotionally recover from the ass-chewing he got from the tollbooth-lady, when traffic slowed to a crawl. Just ahead, there was a disabled eighteen wheeler being towed off the highway and traffic was slowing to get around the operation.

Obama rolled down his window to get a breath of fresh Florida air and … in flew a little gray bird.

Obama went ballistic!

“Get it off me, get it off me, get it away!” He turned white as a sheet (well, a kinda dirty tan-colored sheet). The little Gnatcatcher was maybe three inches long and weighing a couple of ounces – not exactly a menace to life and limb.

But Obama had a deathly fear of small birds. It stemmed from stories told in Kenya, of a spirit (Obu Jigumbee) that came in the form of a small bird that plucked your eyes out if you were bad. His aunt had told him of these legends and how they were true – she had seen it, with her own eyes, the spirit bird pecking at the eyes of a small boy who had disobeyed his parents. It scarred Obama for life. To this day, he had an unnatural fear of small birds.

Obama was in full panic mode now, flailing around and ducking to avoid the little bird. “Ahhhhhhhhhh get it away, get it away!” The bird was darting about in the pickup’s confined space trying to find a way out.

 “Eeeeeeeeaahhhhhhh help me!” Phil couldn’t tell whether he was trying to hit the bird or trying to keep it away. He pulled over and, ducking to avoid the fluttering little bird and Obama’s arms at the same time. “Nooooooooo get away!”

Unfortunately, the little bird had eaten a full load of purple berries and, under the extreme stress of flying his little bird heart out, lost control of his sphincter and began dropping droppings. Here a splat, there a splat, everywhere a purple splat. “Stop stop stop.”

And to make matters worse, since our fearless leader had reflexively rolled UP the window after the bird got in, now the bird couldn’t get out – and apparently, neither could he.

The president was vainly pushing at the door trying to get out; he banged his fists on the window (forgetting that vehicles usually require pulling a handle to open a door). He was coming unglued, going completely bonkers, yelling, screaming, swinging at the poor little bird who was just flying for his little bird life to avoid Obama’s pummeling.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee get it out, get it out!” Another flying purple splat. The little bird was in constant motion except when he did a touch-and-go on the president’s head just long enough to squirt some purple coloring onto Obama’s graying hair.

“Ahhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeee, get it off, get it off!”  Obama was shaking his head back and forth, slapping at the bird on his head … and missing. Another flying splat. He swatted at the bird and hit the window instead; “Arrrgggg” slapped at him again and banged his hand on the dashboard, “Owwwww.” Another dive-bombing splat.

The bird was winning. “Shoot it Phil, shoot it!”

As aggravated as Phil was, he knew he couldn’t shoot, he was afraid that he might miss and hit the bird.

Calmly, Phil rolled down the window on his side and, on his way out, the little bird swooped down and dropped one final runny purple splat right on Obama’s nose and hauled his little feathered butt out of the pickup.

As he was flying away, he could be heard chirping away, “Cheep, chirp, tweet, cheep,” which in bird language means, “Motherf**kin’ fool!”

The president wasn’t exactly covered with bird poop; the little Gnatcatcher was too small to leave anything really big. He just left dime-sized squirts of purple poop splotches here and there, with a nice tight two-inch grouping right at center-mass. Obama’s short gray hair had at least two spots of purple on top and there was a little purple poo running down both sides of the presidential nose (that wouldn’t look too good on Mt. Rushmore).

Ironically, Paul had been spared any attack from Obu Jigumbee and was poop-free. Maybe there was something to the Kenyan legend after all?

After he composed himself and surveyed the “damage,” the president glared at Phil Landerer and said, “If you ever tell anyone about this, I’ll have you water-boarded.” Trying desperately not to smile, Phil just answered, “Aye, aye, sir.”

Finally, it’s over

Responding to radio questions from the other drivers, Landerer assured the other agents that everything was ok, a bird flew in through an open window, so he stopped to get the bird out, nothing more.

Once more the presidential convoy was on the road and closing in on their final destination, Orlando.

They’d just crossed Lake Monroe and were approaching Sanford, Florida. In case you don’t remember the name, that’s where Trayvon Martin was killed (the teen who “looked like Obama”). The president flirted briefly with the idea of stopping “to pay his respects” as a photo-op, but was reminded by Phil that he may not be too popular there since he’d done nothing to help since his original statement – and these damned Floridians carried guns.

The president decided that it might be wise to keep a low profile. He was relieved that it was almost over. This was one trip that he wouldn’t soon forget.

Finally, with Orlando just minutes away, Obama began to recall the troubling events of his Stupendous, Spectacular, Sequestration Tour, wary that some recollections were painful.

From the very start, he’d been left mumbling without his teleprompter, and that night he’d been subjected to stinking cloud of fart gas around the campfire, he’d been chastised in public by Moochelle over the big-boobed woman, made to “get on the ground” like a common criminal in Florence, disrespected by a truck stop owner over a fuel bill, just missed being blown up by a predator drone and saw his wife with a toilet glued to her bum. He had been in a fight with his teleprompter – and lost, he’d been cussed out by a toll taker, and shit on by an obviously Republican bird. Thank Alinsky it was almost over.

He was ready to return to D.C. where he was worshipped (properly) as a deity. He really believed that he didn’t deserve the bad events that had occurred to him on this Godforsaken trip, he was destined for greatness, perhaps after he helped to elevate the United Nations to true world governance, he would accept becoming its president (by acclaimation). And with that, he closed his eyes and began to plot his first royal decrees.

Dear reader, in closing, we at Pesky Truth would like to direct a simple, short statement to Barack Hussein Obama:

“Motherf**kin’ fool!”

The End

Obama’s Stupendous, Spectacular, Sequestration Tour, Ch. 3 [satire]

Obama’s Frugal Vacation

Ch. 3 of 4, I’m going to Disney World

NOTE: This is the 3rd chapter of Obama’s frugal vacation. If you missed the first part, you can access it HERE – the second chapter is available HERE. Ideally, they should be read in sequence. Also note that originally, this was to be a three-part story. Chapter 3 got so long, I decided to end it and continue the story in a newly added (and final) Chapter Four.

~~~

As before, the plan was to get up about seven to get on the road early. They’d hook up and head out, stopping just south of Savannah at a truck stop to fuel up and eat a quick breakfast.

“Get your gas two ways: food and fuel” was the advertising slogan for the On the Run truck stop. It was a favorite stop for truckers traveling I-95 who liked the breakfast burritos and good prices for diesel. Reason enough for it to have been chosen as a morning stop by the caravan’s trip coordinator, Jacque Strapp.

The group split up into groups, some refueling while others ate a quick breakfast. As they finished, they swapped places.

But Murphy’s Law reared its head and Jacque’s wife who wasn’t due to deliver for another three weeks went into labor and he had to catch a quick commuter flight back to DC. He left his taxpayer-funded AMEX credit card with the Agent in Charge, Phil Landerer. The plan was to put all charges on Strapp’s card.

But there was a problem, when it came time to settle up, the system wouldn’t accept Landerer’s signature for the charges. So, they owed a total of $1,759.25 for food and fuel and the taxpayer’s AMEX card wouldn’t accept the charges.

The station’s manager called the owner, a Mr. Heinz Sight, and asked for approval to accept the president’s word that they’d pay a bill sent to the White House.

But Mr. Sight wasn’t buying it. “The president’s word? You got to be kiddin’ me. He ain’t never paid for nothing yet. He don’t pay nobody back. He lives on credit and I have to pay my bills with cash.” Mr. Sight made it plain that he didn’t trust Mr. Obama as far as he could throw a Peterbilt tractor.

But even if they pooled all their cash, the group didn’t have $1,759.25 and since they were living according to the Obama philosophy, (overextended) all of them were already over their personal card limits.

So, being a wily businessman, Heinz Sight offered a solution. If president Obama would sign an IOU (a legal promissory note), he’d let them move on.

With little other choice, Obama reluctantly signed the IOU. It really pissed him off when Mr. Sight chuckled, “Heh, heh, heh, and laughed at the president’s predicament.”

Obama didn’t like being embarrassed, but he had no other choice. He would have preferred to have one of the agents simply “bust a cap in that mother******,” but that could be messy what with the press monitoring their actions. Maybe he’d send a Predator back to visit Mr. Sight.

Damn, he was going to need a lot more drones.

~~~

Finally, they were on the road again.

Riding shotgun in the passenger seat, Ben O’Drill was casually scanning the countryside checking out the farms and pastures and counting cows until … whoa … what was that … something flew by … too big to be a bird. He only saw it for a few seconds, but it … it looked like … a drone!

“Chee, did you see that? I swear I thought I saw a Predator fly by. You don’t think that Joe Biden could have …”

The driver, Chee Spurger laughed, but wasn’t alarmed, “No way, it couldn’t be Joe, we hid the keys, he’ll never find them. And Joe couldn’t find his ass with both hands.”

“Yeah, I know, we did hide ‘em, it couldn’t be him, and he’s not smart enough to hot-wire one. I must be seeing things, must’ve been a really big bird.”

About a minute later …

KA-BOOM!

There was an explosion less than a mile up ahead. All traffic screeched to an immediate stop.

“Holy crap, what was that?”

“I dunno, but it hit smack dab in the middle of the highway not more than a half-mile away.”

“You don’t think …”

“Nah, it couldn’t be.”

The explosion and damage to the highway stopped all southbound traffic for almost an hour.

Interstate traffic was backed up for miles.

Finally, the state police starting moving vehicles off of I-95 and onto a state road, taking the motorists past the blast area. At one point as they went by, everyone did get a brief glimpse of the destruction through the trees and saw the one vehicle that was completely destroyed.

It was … a pickup truck pulling a silver-bodied trailer. The plot thickens …

A half-hour later, back on I-95 and approaching Jacksonville, the two agents were still talking about the near miss explosion. Was it a coincidence that the blast demolished a pickup pulling a trailer? Did Ben really see a Predator? If so, who was controlling it? Regardless of the unanswered questions, it was too much a coincidence for it to have been an accident – which could only mean that it was meant for POTUS.

They were both deep in thought, when the music of Taylor Swift’s latest love-gone-bad tune slowly faded out and was replaced with a musical tone signaling a Homeland Security audio alert.

“Wait – what’s that – turn it up.”

“We interrupt the program in progress to bring you an urgent live message from the Vice President of the United States.”

“My fellow Americans, this is your Vice President, Joe Biden. I have some sad news. I come to you with a heart filled with great sorrow. I’ve just been informed that our North Korean adversary, General Kim Phat Phuc, has hacked into our Predator drone control system and directed one of our own drones to strike at the very heart and soul of this country, at our dear leader, our most beloved … … … …”

[An off-mike unintelligible voice says something we can’t quite make out.]

[And we hear Joe respond, his hand not completely covering the mike, “What? Are you shittin’ me? Who says? Are they sure? Damn, how the hell did it miss? Give me a f**king break.”]

“My fellow Americans … (a long silent pause) … never mind ….”

“We now return to our previously scheduled program.”

Taylor Swift resumes singing that “Someday her prince (Harry) will come.”

Ben and Chee decided that something must be done, they (and the president) were sitting ducks. Ben radioed Phil Landerer, the Agent in Charge of Obama’s security detail and suggested that when they stopped again for a pee-break that they send an urgent signal for the president’s personal superhero to check out Joe Biden.

They had a secret weapon, a resource of last resort that they could call without alerting the other federal agencies. They could send up a “bat signal” for [ta ta taaaa] Female-Man.

In times of peril, we’ve always had heroes that emerge to save the good guys from evildoers (Superman, Spiderman, etc.).

Today, our way of life is under siege by foul and loathsome forces and we need a superhero more than ever.

Enter … [ta ta taaaa] Female-Man, the masked crime fighter.

During peaceful times, she is Holotta Heiney, mild-mannered masseuse, but when the chips are down, when push comes to shove, when the fit hits the shan … she’ll find a vacant airplane hangar, struggle into her costume and become …

[ta ta taaaa] Female-Man.

Faster than a speeding walrus, more powerful than stomach cramps, and able to leap a wiener dog in a single bound, she is …

[ta ta taaaa] Female-Man.

She don’t fly so good, her ample bottom keeps bumping along the ground (limiting her altitude), and she’s strong as an ox (and almost as pretty), but she’s got gumption!

She already had a big “G” for her costume and wanted to be called “Gumption Gal,” but that was already taken by another superhero, so she settled on …

[ta ta taaaa] Female-Man.

“♪♪ Here she comes to save your can, here she comes, she’s Female-Man ♪♪”

~~~

The “F”ing signal went off in Female-Man’s cave, alerting her that she was being called to fight evildoers once again. Sue Shee, her Japanese assistant, helped Holotta butter up so she could get into her costume. The problem with using butter as a lubricant was that when she got hot, she smelled like a grilled cheese sandwich – which had the effect of alerting her adversaries while making bystanders hungry.

Holotta read the text message sent by Phil Landerer and was aghast and taken aback (how often does a superhero get “taken aback” and “aghasted” in the same sentence?).

But this one was a doozy.

The Secret Service was concerned that the VP, Joe Biden, might have gone rogue and directed a Predator drone attack on the president.

Female-Man had a crush on the skinny, big-eared president. She longed to wrap her meaty arms around his under-loved frame and squeeze him till he cried mama (she liked to think of herself as his Uhhbama mama). One day, she longed to wrestle his pseudo-wife and evil villain, Moochelle, for the right to bare his babies – just thinking about it, she began to flush. Uh oh, there goes that grilled cheese smell again.

If it was true that Joe Biden had tried to snuff Uhhbama, she would do unspeakable things to him. She texted Landerer back that she would go undercover (a bright red-orange greyhound bus is difficult to keep undercover) to check out the allegation.

~~~

Now that [ta ta taaaa] Female-Man was on the case, Phil turned his attention back to their scheduled stop for lunch in Jacksonville.

They were just approaching the northern outskirts of the city when he got a call from Sam Sonite, the agent currently driving the SUV with the first lady as a passenger. She was complaining that she needed to relieve herself and couldn’t wait ‘till the lunch stop, still about an hour and a half away. She demanded that they stop.

So the AC radioed the other rigs that they had an unscheduled urination situation. When the first lady’s bladder ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. Luckily, they were in an open stretch of highway and pulling over didn’t result in any serious safety concerns.

When the convoy stopped, Bertha Venation did her duty as pee-coordinator and assigned the first lady to Airstream No. 8022. It was Michelle’s first time in that unit and she was pleased to see that the bathroom had recently been renovated and there was one of those nice padded soft seats on the toilet.

After completing her task, she was distressed to find that she couldn’t get up. The toilet seat appeared to have attached itself to her ample bottom and wouldn’t let go. She tried and tried, even pushing down on the seat while attempting to stand – to no avail.

She heard Bertha’s whistle signaling that the pee-break was over and they should return to their vehicles. Thirty seconds later, there was another blast on Bertha’s whistle.

The first lady yelled “Rachel!”

Rachel Slurr was one of Michelle’s handmaidens (butt-maiden would be more accurate). Her main duty was to apply Boudreaux’s Butt Paste to the first lady’s derriere to keep it supple and smooth (gag). Boudreaux’s was a Louisiana product once touted by Oprah on her TV show as wonderful for diaper rash on babies. Rachel had applied a generous coating to the first lady’s bottom this very morning.

“RACHEL!”

“$%%**@#@ RACHEL!”

But, (no pun intended) what with the noise of traffic whizzing by and the noise deadening padding recently installed in the renovated Airstream, no one heard her bellow.

Fortunately, just before the caravan moved out, Bertha noticed that the first lady hadn’t returned the keys to the trailer. She went to No. 8022 and went inside. That’s when she heard Michelle screaming at the top of her lungs, “GET ME THE %$*& OUTTA HERE!”

Bertha carefully opened the door to find Michelle sitting there … fuming … and really, really pissed. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m stuck to this &%$&%*$$ TOILET SEAT! That’s what’s wrong!” “Get Rachel Slurr in here! NOW!” “Yes, maam.”

It seems that Rachel had used a brand new jar of Boudreaux’s Butt Paste on the first lady this morning. It was from a case that was a gift, thoughtfully sent to Michelle by Oprah. There was already no love lost between the two. Michelle was jealous of the attention that Oprah got whenever she was with Obama, but this was too much. Gluing Michelle’s bottom to a toilet seat was too much. Oprah would pay for this humiliation.

Michelle’s butt was apparently stuck fast to the seat and the women had no idea how to free it. They called for the men to remove the seat from the toilet and Michelle would just have to “wear” it until Jacksonville when they could consult a doctor.

The men decided that the lowest ranking aide would get the task. Various tools were discussed, like a hammer and chisel, a hacksaw, a box cutter, and a chainsaw. Finally, they decided that they didn’t want to damage the toilet seat and it should just be removed.

Armed with a pair of pliers and a baseball cap to shield his eyes from Michelle’s bottom (the sight of which could easily induce convulsions and blindness); Sigfried Denroy reluctantly went into the “lair of the beast.”

Chee Spurger (the comedian among the agents) suggested that if they couldn’t pry her loose, they might have to blast, nyuk, nyuk, nyuk (it was obvious that Chee had seen too many Three Stooges bits).

If you’ll note the picture of the bathroom, you can see that Sigfried had to get “up close” and verrrryyy personal with Mrs. Obama in order to remove the bolts. In fact, they got so close that Michelle was calling him “sugar” and “honey” before it was over.

Denroy was finally successful in removing the two bolts that held the seat to the toilet and allowed the first lady to get up. Since shorts and pants were no longer an option, one of her aides cut a hole in a large picnic table-sized tablecloth and she was able to exit the Airstream wearing that.

Always the smartass, Chee Spurger wondered whether she would ask “does this toilet seat make my butt look big?” She didn’t.

Ben O’Drill called ahead for a doctor to meet them at the restaurant. Dr. Benny Factor, a physician specializing in separating butts glued by Krazy Glue to toilet seats, could handle the separation and he could treat the first lady in one of the Airstreams. They’d give him the coordinates when they were closer.

Now back on the road and almost 90 minutes behind schedule, the GPS would lead them to the restaurant. At least that’s where they thought they were going. Instead, as a surprise, the first lady had arranged for the convoy to stop in a city park where the meal would be catered.

One inescapable problem for a caravan of twelve pickups/SUVs pulling trailers was that a large amount of space was required just to park the units – too much space for all but a few truck stops. Michelle had convinced Jacque Strapp (their trip coordinator) that park surroundings and a catered meal would be a welcome change. So he contacted the park management as well as a restaurant that would supply and deliver their lunch.

They pulled into Riverside Park and the park director showed them where they could park along the road, just across from the picnic grounds. Their late arrival wasn’t a problem for the park, but it was for the restaurant. Since no one in the caravan but Michelle knew about the arrangements, and she was in no mood to be bothered about anything except her own bottom, no one had contacted the caterer.

After waiting a full hour, the catering van returned to the restaurant, thinking that the order had been a hoax. So, there the travelers were, tired, without food, and waiting for Dr. Benny Factor to arrive so he could separate the seat from Michelle’s bottom.

And so, dear readers, the trials and tribulations of Michelle’s posterior will provide an appropriate end to this episode.

~~~

Tune in again for the next chapter in the ongoing saga of: The Obama Family’s Stupendous, Spectacular, Sequestration Tour.

Chapter FOUR asks the burning question: Who was behind the attack on Michelle’s derriere which made her the butt of Secret Service jokes?

Pesky Truth©

“No one is asking you to give up your guns”

May 2, 2013: There is a new update to this information, it is located at the end of this post. 

How many times are we going to hear that from the anti-gun proponents? Of course, the anti-gun people aren’t asking us to give up our guns.

That statement is so disingenuous that it is ludicrous. Here’s why:

1. They know that asking us to give up our guns simply won’t work and they know that force-of-law is the only way that they will get law-abiding gun owners to give up their guns.

Even then, most gun owners would choose to ignore whatever unconstitutional scheme might be attempted, rather than relinquish the rights guaranteed them by the 2^nd Amendment.

1. Any form of “give up your guns” is a direct frontal assault on our 2^nd Amendment rights. They know that such a direct action would cause gun people to coalesce and fight back. Even somewhat splintered as we are today, gun people are a political force to be reckoned with; a truly united group exerting direct pressure on our Senators and Representatives would be a formidable political foe.

The anti-gun people know that the only way they can achieve their goal (of confiscating all privately owned guns) is to chip away, little by little, at our 2^nd Amendment rights until a de facto ban has eventually been codified into law.

There is another segment of our population that falls somewhere in between the anti-gun forces and gun owners, a well-intentioned, but naïve group that I call the “some of a gun” group.

They are the folks who honestly think that “common sense” gun laws will reduce murders and crime in general without negatively impacting the 2^nd Amendment rights guaranteed by our Bill of Rights. They have not done their homework. They’ve only heard what the media tells them, and the media only tells what the anti-gunners want them to hear.

They take the ardent anti-gun forces at their word and think that those “common sense” laws won’t really infringe on a law-abiding person’s right to hunt, target shoot, or defend themselves and their family. They are naïve because they’ve fallen for the rhetoric of anti-gun forces.

Many who comment on Internet sites and respond to polls are “some of a guns.” They are a sizeable group. Following are a few representative comments cut/pasted from an article on the NBCNews website. It’s obvious that these commenters believe that we are paranoid about Obama, Schumer, Feinstein, et al taking away our guns.

• “First off, no one wants to take away all of your guns. That is ridiculous.”
•  “No one is threatening to take your damn guns away.”
• “When you post the banning guns nonsense you just look foolish!”
• “Gun registration isn’t even part of the bill…”
• “There isn’t even any banning of guns in this bill, nor registration.”
• “No one should worry about anyone comming (sic) and taking their guns.”
• “Listen, no one is banning all guns, and no one will confiscate your guns. It will not happen.”
• “No one is trying to take the Second Amendment down.”

The “some of a gun” group believes the anti-gun forces who say that they really do support the 2nd Amendment, but just wants to “protect the children” and “stop all the senseless violence.” This naïve group even says that they don’t want to prevent gun ownership; they just want some common sense limitations so that the public doesn’t have access to military weaponry and some reasonable background checks applied to all persons buying a firearm.

They think that we are mistaken not to trust what Obama, Schumer, Feinstein, etc. when they say that “it’s all about the children” and “if it saves one child’s life.” They don’t see that those are simply rhetorical ploys to influence public opinion.

Occasionally, in a rare moment of candor, a gun control proponent will admit that neither an assault weapons ban nor universal background checks would have prevented the Sandy Hook massacre or the other mass shootings that have occurred.

Connecticut already had bans on assault weapons and required background checks before the Sandy Hook incident – and what good did their laws do? All of the mass shootings were in places where guns were prohibited, and what good did that do?

But we are worried about the federal government confiscating our guns – and with good reason. Obama and his ilk will use any excuse to accumulate a covert database of gun owners and although it may take a while, when that database is sufficiently populated, it will (magically) morph into the source for mandatory confiscation of guns (for the “good” of the children).

The anti-gunners can’t be open about their long-term intentions because even many of the “some of a gun” folks would rebel at confiscation, so they use the tools they’re familiar with: deceit, misinformation, obfuscation, and bald-faced lies to hide their true goals – and the “some of a gun” folks believe them – how naïve.

Following are just a few statements by anti-gun proponents that clearly spell out what their goals are:

• Sen. Feinstein said after getting her assault weapons ban passed said, “If I could have banned them all – ‘Mr. and Mrs. America turn in your guns’ – I would have!”
• NY Governor Andrew Cuomo said in a radio interview in late December, “Confiscation could be an option…mandatory sale to the state could be an option.”
• Illinois Congresswoman Jan Schakowsky says that “an assault weapons ban is just the beginning.’ She also says that “a complete ban on handguns could be possible through state and local action.”
• Former top Democratic mayor Ed Koch said he wants to “ban all guns for everyone except law enforcement.”
• Iowa state Rep. Dan Muhlbauer said “governments should start confiscating semi-automatic rifles and other firearms.”

Here’s what the Daily Kos (a far left liberal website) says, “The progressive community needs to adopt a program of first identifying all guns and equipment with no valid hunting or defense purpose such as assault weapons, high capacity magazines, .50 cal rifles, etc.; second , requiring that these weapons be turned in for appropriate compensation and then destroyed. Furthermore, manufacture or importation of such weapons or equipment would be banned. Third, we need to require registration, training and securing.”

Anyone who believes their for-public-consumption rhetoric and doesn’t believe that their covert goal is to prohibit civilian ownership of guns is deluding themselves. They’ve told us what they want to do and we should take them at their word – it’s the only thing that they’ve been honest about.

The anti-gun forces want to confiscate our semi-automatic weapons (pistols and long guns) and they won’t stop until we drive a stake through the movement’s heart, or they succeed, whichever occurs first.

~~~

May 2, 2013 update, just in from California:

CA Governor Signs Law Allowing Confiscation of Firearms.  Legislators believe up to 20,000 Californians will fall under this law, which could mean up to 40,000 weapons need to be confiscated. The legislation “allocates $24 million in surplus funds” to hire “dozens of special agents” to help recover the weapons. Since California keeps a database of gun owners, they know where every gun is–or where it’s supposed to be–and they’ll use that database to locate them.

Sen. Mark Leno (D-San Francisco) said the money California has spent to maintain a “tracking program” on firearms has paid off and is now giving the lawmakers “the opportunity to confiscate [these guns].”

Still think that “no one is trying to take your guns”?

~~~

Following are two pieces I wrote to illustrate how valuable a handgun can be – when you or your family or school children are threatened by an armed assailant. I’ve attempted to make these two scenarios as realistic as possible without glamorizing the weapon itself. No one that I know or have met at firearms events ever wants to use their weapon in self-defense – it is a last resort, but one that can’t be replaced by the police, a call box, scissors, or yelling for help. When confronted by an armed assailant, nothing else will do.

You hear glass breaking … A family can’t fight back without a gun

If a teacher had been armed … Adam Lanza could have been stopped

Pesky Truth©

“I Misspoke” and Other Lies

Subject: a new lie-cloaking device

I’m learning that there is a downside to being retired and having the time to read so much of the news of the day – the news stinks, and it’s full of lies.

What set me off (this time) was the emergence of a new lie-cloaking device, the “I misspoke” linguistic get-out-of-jail-free card. Here’s what the term “misspeak” really means:

mis·speak [mis-speek] Verb

1. to speak, utter, or pronounce incorrectly.
2. to speak inaccurately, inappropriately, or too hastily.

Apparently the dictionary.com compilers left out “absolution when caught making a false statement.” That’s the way the word is being used by our politicians. When caught in a lie, they just claim that they “misspoke” and everything is hunky dory, no harm done.

Here are four examples that occurred in two days, of politicians “misspeaking” about the same issues: assault weapons or high capacity magazines. First president Obama said that Adam Lanza used an automatic weapon to shoot 20 children. He said:

“It is possible for us to create common-sense gun safety measures that respect the traditions of gun ownership in this country…but also make sure that we don’t have another 20 children…gunned down by a semiautomatic weapon – by a fully automatic weapon in that case, sadly.”

In this case, our “esteemed” president went so far as to override a correct statement with an incorrect one – in order to ratchet up the rhetoric from semiautomatic to fully automatic – because fully automatic sounds much more ominous.

The second example was when Colorado Rep. Rhonda Fields, D-Aurora, tried to exploit the horrific specter of those diabolically evil assault rifles when she described the shooting that killed her son, as follows:

“His car and him and his fiancée were riddled with an assault rifle.”

According to the Arapahoe County District Attorney’s office who investigated the incident, two guns were fired at the couple – a .45 semi-automatic weapon and a 9mm semi-automatic weapon. A total of 14 shell casings – eight 9mm and six .45 caliber – were found at the scene. The .45 caliber bullets killed Fields and Wolfe, said a spokeswoman with the district attorney’s office.

It should also be noted that fewer than 10 rounds were fired from either weapon and thus, a magazine limited to 10 rounds would have had no effect on that particular incident.

While all parents and anyone with an ounce of compassion must sympathize with Ms. Fields on the loss of her son, that doesn’t give her carte blanche to use that event to further her political goals.

And, jumping on the band wagon with Rep. Rhonda Fields, there was an op-ed piece by U.S. Rep. Diana DeGette, D-Denver. The congresswoman alluded to Fields’ son being killed with an assault weapon:

“Despite her long reputation as a tireless advocate for gun safety, and as the parent of a child gunned down by an assault weapon, the attacks were ugly and personal,” wrote DeGette in regard to some of the harassment Fields has endured as the leading proponent of stricter gun laws in Colorado.

And by the way, that same U.S. Rep. Degette is the brain surgeon who, when asked why banning ammunition magazines that hold more than 15 rounds would be effective in reducing gun violence, responded:

“These are ammunition, they’re bullets, so the people who have those now, they’re going to shoot them, so if you ban them in the future, the number of these high-capacity magazines is going to decrease dramatically over time because the bullets will have been shot and there won’t be any more available.”

All of these quotes were later dismissed as misspeaks by the speaker, but the “I misspoke” correction drew a small fraction of the coverage that was given the original statement. They got what they wanted to say publicized with their slanted view represented.

That is exactly what was planned by the “misspeakers” – a big splash of coverage blaming unfortunate tragic deaths on the target of their campaign – those pesky assault weapons and/or high capacity magazines and later, when caught in the deception, a tiny drip of correction.

That is the modus operandi for many/most of today’s democrat operatives – and it gets worse the higher up the political ladder you go. Their currency is conceal, deceive, falsify, fabricate, hide, lie, mislead, misrepresent, obfuscate, obscure, slant, taint, twist, I could go on, the thesaurus is full of words that cover the act of saying untruthful things to influence people who don’t know any better. When you sum it all up, they are all just variations of a lie.

I don’t like liars, and neither should you.

Let’s start at the top, I don’t like Barack Obama. He has lied so many times to the American citizenry, that I have lost any respect for him. He has proven (to those who will see) that his words are meant to direct public opinion and that is their only purpose. One cannot depend on anything that he says as being true and/or based on facts; it’s all based on political expediency.

I know that some will immediately brand me as a “racist,” so be it. The “race card” has been overplayed so many times in recent years that it no longer has any sting.

I don’t dislike Obama because he is (half) black, I dislike him because he has proven himself to be a liar and it disturbs me that he pays no price for flagrant obfuscations, misrepresentations, and bald-faced lies.

This man controls much of the well-being of our United States and its 315 million citizens yet has uttered so many proven falsehoods that it amazes me that anyone still take what he says at face value.

Some will say “all politicians lie,” and while there’s some truth in that, there is no reason that we have to accept it. They lie and get away with it, because we accept it as a fact of life. It wasn’t always that way. There was a time (not so long ago) that when someone was caught in a lie, they were shunned, fired, divorced, impeached, etc. because we did not suffer liars. What happened to repercussions for lying? Is lying ok now?

I’ll tell you what happened: little by little, bit by bit, professional liars rolled us down that slippery slope, got their nose under the tent, or however else you might want to characterize the gradual acceptance of more and more lies.

When Bill Clinton looked the American public “in the eye” via their television screens, and lied to all of us, that was the beginning of the end. His democrat allies told us “it was no big deal.” Well, if the President of the United States lies to us and is caught in the lie – and still suffers no ill consequences, what does that say to our young people, our kids?

Listen, my friends, when we accept lying as part of everyday life, it is over. When we no longer can trust our friends, spouses, neighbors, salespeople, advertising, commercials, etc., to tell the truth, on what can we base important decisions?

While originating in the computer world, the old saying, “garbage in, garbage out” is still appropriate in everyday life. If you have only lies on which to base decisions (garbage in), you should expect that the results will be bad decisions (garbage out)?

We can no longer rely on the broadcast and print news organizations to present unbiased news, they are part of the problem in that they color the news to lean towards their own political persuasion – and that’s mostly liberal. The “major” news media has become the news division of the democrat party.

Just don’t take ANY politician (regardless of party) at his or her word, chances are, they’re lying to you. Just start verifying what they say, compare what they’ve said in the past to what they’ve actually done, it’s not that difficult to do your own personal due diligence.

Then, and only then, will you have real truth and facts upon which to base your decisions and more importantly, your upcoming VOTES.

Pesky Truth©

The Book of Progressivism

Doesn’t it seem that the “progressive” left is always against whatever we conservatives are for? Why are we always seemingly at odds? It would seem that at least occasionally, if only by accident, we’d agree on something.

I was pondering this enigma, when in a EUREKA! moment, it came to me.

It’s a perfect example of Occam’s Razor where generally speaking, a simple explanation is more likely to be right than a more complex one.

The simple explanation is that they just assume whatever position we take is wrong and therefore if they take the opposite position they will be right.

They don’t bother to read and absorb, they don’t consider and evaluate, no – it’s much simpler than that. They already have a one size fits all answer to everything.

I suspect that it is written that way in the Book of Progressivism. It’s like a Bible to them, only it’s one that they keep hidden from the un-chosen. No, I haven’t actually seen it, but there is ample evidence that points to the following two commandments:

I.            The First Commandment: Thou shalt be contrarian.

The leftist elites have such a colossal disdain for ordinary citizens, they must exhibit their “intellectual superiority” by being against whatever most of the country’s ordinary citizens are for – and conversely, they must be for whatever we are against.

If we sincerely believe in something, (e.g., God, a Supreme Being, the Bible, religion, right to life, 2^nd Amendment, etc.), and they believe us to be illiterate cretins, it follows that our beliefs must be balderdash, poppycock, and crap. Their twisted logic requires that it be so.

There is a term that describes their attitude: contrarian.

After all, how could an intellectually superior “progressive” possibly agree with an average working class stiff? We are simply too obtuse to understand anything more complex than slumping and therefore, whatever we favor must be misguided.

If we’re against abortion-at-will and out-of-control federal spending, they are duty bound to support those issues.

If we’re against gun control, if we’re for controlling our borders, if we believe that marriage should be between a man and a woman, their First Commandment requires that they must take an opposing position.

It’s really easy for them. They don’t have to expend energy or gray matter (they have precious little) researching, verifying, weighing options and the like, they just wait for us to research an issue and arrive at a reasoned, logical conclusion and then they take up their position against it.

Have you ever heard them define the details of why they are for (or against) anything?

The details they offer are a smokescreen. If you remove the platitudes, rhetoric, clichés, straw man arguments, and other verbal gymnastics, there is nothing left. They didn’t examine the evidence, weigh the options, and make a logical decision based on facts – heaven forbid! That detour from their prescribed dogma could result in them arriving at the same conclusion as us – and that would be an untenable position for them – a disaster!

Their muddled little brains would cramp up, go into an “it does not compute” mode and shut down, leaving them in a sleep state, unable to function.

II. The Second Commandment: Thou shalt be in unison

The libs stick together. If one of their certified heroes (like a Hollywood celebrity, or a high-ranking political figure) takes a position, it must be the right one. One need only look to Hollywood and democrat “leaders” to see the geniuses that serve as the standardbarers for their leftist points of view.

If we don’t like Fidel Castro, or Hugo Chavez, or Barack Obama, that automatically makes them a candidate for sainthood in the left’s playbook. Once again, if we’re fur it, they’re agin it.

And they will take up rhetorical arms to beat back any assault on their heroes. It is always an “us against them” situation, no matter how wrong their liberal saint may be proven to be, they will always stand with the “progressive” and against everyone else – facts be damned.

And their acolytes are infused with the same religious fervor.

One need only read the comments on any number of popular Internet sites to confirm the tactics of their army of minions.

• First, there will seldom be any attempt at providing factual evidence to support their liberal view (see their First Commandment), simply because they won’t be able to find real objective facts to support their argument, so they will resort to quoting the “facts” as provided by the Obama administration, democrat “leaders,” or the complicit media. Those supposedly “unimpeachable” sources can be depended on to provide lies and/or obfuscations as their “proof.”
• And second, if the first option doesn’t work or is too obvious in its lack of objectivity or honesty, they will resort to ad hominem attacks – and usually with language that would make a rapper blush.

If they don’t have the facts to support their position, what alternative do they have?

That’s one of the reasons that we conservatives always have a difficult time debating a progressive. We quote facts and they quote rhetoric, but the infuriating thing is that they maintain that their rhetoric has equal standing to our facts.

It closely parallels the old bit about playing chess with a pigeon:

Even though you can easily beat him at chess, the pigeon is just going to knock over the pieces, crap on the board, and strut around like it’s victorious.”

That describes “progressives” perfectly.

Pesky Truth©