Tuesday, April 23, 2013


     Being a man of few ambitions, my "bucket list" is really not that long.  Worse yet, it's not that exciting either.  While some have managed to cross sky diving or swimming with sharks off their bucket list, I recently managed to cross reading "Atlas Shrugged" off mine.  I know it's not exactly alligator wrestling, but at 1069 pages, it's a personal achievement none-the-less.
     Let's be honest, it's length and less-than-satisfying ending make this book a challenge to read, and a risk to recommend to just any reader.  That is not to say that Ayn Rand didn't hit the nail on the head in her attempt to illustrate how the real world works.  She did.
     As I started to read the book, it didn't take me long to notice the spooky parallels between things happening in Rand's fictional story line, and things actually happening in real life today.  But it's not the similarities between the clash of human nature vs. public policy in the book, and pretty much everything I see in the news right now that gives me "the willies", it's the fact that this book was written in 1957!
     Did Ayn Rand have a crystal ball, a sixth sense, or just a wicked talent for deduction?  Who knows?    
     The premise of the book is to simply ask what would happen if the people who "make the wheels go-round" simply decided to quit working and drop out of society.  After years of excessive regulation, excessive taxation, intrusive government interference, and the media slandering and misrepresenting them and their purpose to the public day after day, the industrialists, inventors, and producers of the nation decide that they've taken enough abuse.  They pull their resources and go "on strike". 
     The book walks you through step by step the importance of industry to modern man and what happens when the ruling class tries to control the natural instincts of man as applied to the free market.  Rand brilliantly illustrates the linkage between one industry to another and the "domino effect" that happens when "intellectuals" use their power to institute some convoluted brand of "social justice".
     The title refers to the mythological god "Atlas" who's only purpose was to hold the Earth on his shoulders.  So, the metaphor is to ask what happens if Atlas were to simply shrug his shoulders, drop the Earth, and walk away?
     When I hear people rush to blame the "rich" for the ills of the world, I have visions of the people of Earth throwing rocks at Atlas every time something doesn't go their way.  Rather than saying "Hey, Mr. Atlas! Thank's for holding the Earth in place!", he get's to hear "Hey, Mr. Atlas!  You're rich, and I'm not, so that makes you a jerk!"  Just how long should he have to put up with that?  How long would you?
     In the book, "Galt's Gulch" refers to the remote, hidden community built by the producers and industrialist of America to live during their "strike".  Complete with their own power company and monetary system, they live a simple, yet comfortable life based on conservative principals and free market values...totally isolated from the outside world.  As the outside world falls into ruin, the government tries to "fix" each new crisis with a new policy which inevitably spawns multiple new crises.  Like some hellish game of "Wack-a-Mole", each government intervention costs more jobs, money, and lives until society falls into anarchy and chaos.
     It's not likely that there will be a real-life "Galt's Gulch", but if there is, I'll be the guy standing in my front yard with my family yelling "Take us with you!  I'm a worker!  Not a moocher!" 

Tuesday, February 26, 2013


     A common tactic used by up and coming tyrants and power hungry narcissists is to be surrounded by children during public appearances and use the power of cuteness to sway the masses toward any number of self-destructive policies.  When children are not personally available for use as props or set decor, it's also typical to pull out a letter allegedly written by some dis-advantaged elementary school kid, who was so concerned about the issue-at-hand, that they decided to sit down and write their president a letter about it.  As we all know, the one thing eight year olds love to do is write letters.  I'm also pretty sure that there is no chance that the parents of these children had anything to do with their children's sudden interest in public policy.  And it would surely be crazy talk to even suggest that someone desperate enough to exploit children for political purposes might go as far as to fake a "Dear President" letter...so I won't go there.
     In keeping with the idea that what's good for the goose is good for the gander, I decided to adopt this tried and true liberal tactic myself.  So here is a letter to President Obama that may or may not have been written by my daughter.

Dear Mr. President,
     My name is _ _ _ _ _ _ and I am eight years old.  My Daddy says you are trying to destroy our country so you can remake it the way you want to.  My little brother does the same thing when I try to make animals with Play-dough.  That makes me sad.  My Daddy told me that we don't have as much money for ice cream and toys because you are taking more of his money to give to lazy people, and because Daddy's customers have less money to spend at his company for the same reason.  If my Daddy's company doesn't have enough customers, will he lose his job?  That would make me sad, because he said he would take us to the beach this year if we had enough money.  I like to build sand castles.
     Mr. Obama, are you going to take away people's guns?  Our Principal said that a bad man hurt some kids with a gun and we should tell a teacher if we wanted to talk about our feelings.  If a bad man comes to our school, who will help us if my teacher isn't allowed to shoot him?  I would be very sad if my friend Timmy had to go to heaven because there was no way to stop the bad man.  Timmy's birthday is next week, he is having a party.
     My favorite story is "The Little Red Hen".  It is a about animals on a farm that want some bread, but the hen is the only one that will work to make it.  The other animals still think they should have the bread.  My Daddy says that they think they are something called "entitled".  That must mean "lazy".  He says that you really need to read that book.  If you come to our story time, I can read it to you.   
     I hope you get my letter and read it to the world like you do with letters from other kids.  Please stop hurting my Mommy and Daddy.  It makes me sad.
                                                                                                          Your pawn,      
                                                                                                           _ _ _ _ _ _     

Wednesday, January 30, 2013


     Apparently, chivalry is not only dead, but is was brutally beaten, gang-raped and sexually mutilated on the battlefield before-hand.  But hey, let's not allow a little fly like "reality" to get in our politically correct ointment...right?  Like most progressive ideas, it seems that either no one has taken the time to "workshop" the likely outcomes of allowing women in combat roles in the military, or simply no one cares.  As someone with a mother, wife and daughter, I would like to be put into the "I care" column.  In any case, our "Forward" thinking leaders have decided that they will be forgoing all that messiness of considering the possibility of tragic disaster, and gone ahead and opened the door to females in the theater of combat.  What's the worst that could happen?

     Well...rumor has it, that a certain "religion of peace" has a long history of sanctioned sexual abuse of women.  You might recall the "rape rooms" of one Saddam Hussein.  Is it beyond the realm of possibility that the same folks who traditionally mutilate the genitals of their own civilian female children, might actually consider treating female U.S. troops captured on the battlefield in a less-than-kind manner?  Not as conservatives, or leftists, not as Republicans or Democrats, not as pot-smoking hippies or moonshine-swilling rednecks, but as men, are we ready to have this on our conscience?  When it is one of our wives, mothers, or daughters that come home in a condition that I dare not think about, that's if they are even lucky enough to come home alive to begin with...what will we say to them?  "Gee, sorry we allowed you to be subjected to horrors that you will never heal from, but look how we advanced political correctness!"  "Yeah!"  "You go girl!" 

     Then there are the slightly less tragic, but still just as real consequences of this little sociology experiment gone awry.  Things such as pregnancy, P.M.S., and the since-the-dawn-of-man-but-only-until-last-week problem of the "love triangle" on the battlefield.  Consider this, men and women have been driven by love, lust, and jealousy to do some of the most diabolical and depraved things to others and themselves since Adam first layed eyes on Eve.  The names Van Gogh, OJ Simpson, and Lorena Bobbit come to mind.  But whether you're severing ears, heads, and "wedding tackle", or just innocently infatuated with someone in your platoon, does it strengthen our forces to have drama in the ranks?  It's one thing to have two guys at the office competing for the affection of the receptionist, but what happens if two infantrymen are competing for the same woman in their squad, and one is "supposed" to lay down some cover fire as the other takes the hill?  Accidents happen...right?

     Not that a married man such as myself would know anything about this next question...but.  What happens to a woman's performance in a combat situation on one of those "heavy" days?  I'm just asking!  What happens to a unit's continuity when one of them has to be taken off the field due to pregnancy?  Are there some who would play that card on purpose?  It's probably easier than shooting yourself in the foot like men have to do when they want off the battlefield.  Would an increase in pregnant troops strain medical units who are relied on to treat the wounded?

     And finally, has anyone taken the time to consider the next draft?  How can we possibly think that if there is ever a draft in the future, the same liberals won't be making the same arguments to demand women be included?  After all, if women are to be treated "equally" when they volunteer, then it stands to reason that they will have to be treated "equally" when they don't.  Will we be so ready to sacrifice our mothers, wives, and daughters then?

     Our founding documents have certified that we are all created equal.  The Bible says that we are all equal in the eyes of God.  But nowhere is it written that we are created "identical".  There are differences between the male and female of all species.  This may not be a popular fact, but it's a fact none the less.  And when we try to dismiss, ignore, or deny these differences, we shouldn't be surprised when human nature does not comply with our demands.  When males and females get together, it is a natural likelihood that things will probably happen.  And when marriages are destroyed and lives are lost unnecessarily, all for the sake of checking another box on a list of liberal agenda items, the blood will be on the hands of those who helped make it happen.           

Tuesday, January 22, 2013


     The morning after the election, I went through a range of emotions.  As you can imagine it went something like this; shock, disbelief, fear, anger, and then on to varying degrees of depression.  On the way to work, I even quietly wondered to myself "What's the point of even going?"  For a brief moment I seriously considered turning the truck around, going home, and spending the day playing board games with my kids.  Then I thought, "No, that would make me one of them."  I'm a worker.  I work.  That's what I do.  I'm not ruled by emotions, jumping at every chance to use my feelings as an excuse to get out of doing something less than entertaining.
     With that, I went on to a day of sucking it up, and moving on with my life.  Of coarse, this did not cure my near-crippling depression and nagging sense of impending doom, but I still managed to keep all 18 wheels between the lines without aiming them at the first Prius with an Obama sticker that came into my view.

     For the next three days, I instituted a total media blackout at casa de Roadhouse.  With the exception of non-news oriented shows and channels, I shunned both my TV, and radio.  During my self-imposed exile, it occurred to me that what's happening in our country can be compared to a similar dynamic happening in my own home.
     I have two children, each representing one half of the population.  Despite being part of the same family, and living under the same roof, both have vastly different ways of approaching life...much like our current electorate living in America.
     With one child, I can tell her to not put her toy on the toilet tank because it will probably fall into the bowl.  In most cases, she will examine the likelihood of that, compare it to my warning and put the toy in her room.
     With the other, he will determine that he knows better, ignore my warning, put more toys on the tank, and soon, you can guess who will be fishing for a die-cast John Deere tractor and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure...PRE-flush.  If you guessed "Roadhouse", you win the prize.
     True, it's not my tractor or action figure, and it's not my feelings of regret, shame, and humiliation after the fact, but it is my hand that gets to go elbow-deep into a pool of unmentionable biology in order to fix the problem. 
     The flaw in my analogy is that my son can fall back on his young age and eagerness to be independent as a reasonable excuse for his short-sightedness.  But for Americans of voting age in this country...not so much.  So, though I am not looking "Forward" to it, I realize that there is little I can actually do about the fact that for at least the next four years, we are all going to be fishing for toys in a of bowl of poo.


Monday, January 14, 2013


     For those who care, there are many reasons I haven't blogged for more than a year.  My family is my priority, and how I spend my free time reflects that.  There's been no personal tragedies in my life, and my schedule hasn't changed that much since my last post.  Truth be told, I've just been tired.  After years of shouting in the wilderness, I had decided my family would be better off if I spent more time getting a good night's sleep, and less time trying to save liberals from themselves.  But the pendulum swings on.
     Looking back at the events of 2012, I can't seem to shake this nagging feeling of guilt that I associate with doing nothing as the neighborhood burns to the ground.  Considering my very limited resources, I opted to ease back into the world of political debate.  Curious to see if I still "got it", I figured I would fire some ideological shots over some metaphorical bows over at www.democraticunderground.com and maybe re-light the furnace here at my little right-wing oasis.  Who would have thought that after only two...yes, TWO comments, they would kick me out of their web site.
     Was I insulting?  No.  Was I making threats of any kind?  No.  In fact, I didn't even have a chance to start a polite debate with anyone there.  Not being one to go quietly into the night, I prepared an E-mail response to the site moderator that was meant to illustrate their lack of confidence in their positions, and challenge them to a debate on their own turf.  As I readied my index finger to click the "send" icon, I suddenly remembered who I was dealing with...liberals.
     I thought back to the countless incidents of liberals going off the deep end around the world over the past few decades.  From UAW workers attacking a disabled T.E.A. Party member, to "occupy" activists crapping on police cars, E.L.F. arsonists, Greek rioters, Sierra Club vandals, and even my own personal experiences with our "tolerant" advocates of peace.  
     I decided that people with skin that thin, and so willing to wall themselves into such an easily challenged ideology may not be reasonable enough to be trusted.  Do I know that they would find my address and "try something"?  No.  But like I said, my family is my first priority...so why risk it?
     Besides, I took their reaction to me as a sign of panic, and verification that I do in-fact still "got it".