Armstrong on the Strongarm

Tonight my husband pointed out to me an article that he read today, saying that it reiterated things he has heard me say. The article was by Armstrong Williams of the Washington Times, and it was in their July 23 issue. Naturally I read the article. And while there are a few things I am not 100% on board with in the article, I must say I wish I could say things as well as Mr. Williams. But that's why he is a paid writer and I am but an unseen, behind the scenes blogger who will not be quitting my day job any time soon.

Armstrong Williams' article cites what I call the strongarm tactics of the left as they strive to create Utopia, the perfect society. Williams first opines that "what unites the left is a vision of an ideal society, and what unites the right is a vision of an ideal state." Although I do not agree with the proposition that the right generally is seeking an "ideal" state, I do agree that those of us on the right are more focused on the state (namely its best interest and its survival) than we are in "society." Utopian society is indeed the prize for the left, as Mark Levin so masterfully writes about in his book Ameritopia. (I highly recommend this book for an understanding of how the theme of the perfect society has been around for as long as humanity has and how it has been unattainable because man himself is imperfect.)

By contrasting the left and right's respective positions on various issues, Armstrong cleverly identifies the inherent contradictions in liberal doctrine itself. Leftist politicians often claim to be pragmatic, but their pragmatism goes only as far as it takes to bring an argument back to their self-preservationist ideology. To put it mildly, they are flip-floppers who will not hesitate to flop-flip, even if it makes no sense (to do so).

These liberal tactics remind me of the way my siblings and I fought when we were children. It reminds me of the old adage, be careful when you point because there are three fingers pointing back at you. Armstrong points out one of the favorite liberal tactics -- accuse your opponent of having your own worst faults, even though it is not true.

Any disparity is against [the leftists'] ideal society, no matter how evanescent or specious it may be. To them, it is not just evidence but automatic, compelling proof of discrimination.

Any disagreement with them and they label you. And how do they label you? What form does their bigotry take? They call you a bigot. It’s a clever tactic of bigots to try to make all labels as meaningless as possible. It’s also a form of poisoning the well: If they call you a bigot first, then when you say it back, it has less force, since you’ve already been labeled.

You don’t want to pay for their contraception? You’re waging a war on women. You want to enforce the drug laws? They are victims of your war on drugs.

So many of the liberals' lines are illustrative of the old fable about sour grapes.

We saw an example of such infantile tactics last week when Nancy Pelosi told Democrats to stay home from the DNC Convention in September, only because Democrats were coming out announcing that they would not be attending. It's the method I used in my classroom when I was teaching little kids. If they were doing something and I did not know what to do about it, I would try to make them think that they were doing what I wanted them in hopes that they would then think, "If this is what she wants me to do, then I'd better do the opposite," which in reality was what I wanted them to do. Call it reverse psychology or some other Freudian label (I was educated in that psycho-babble nonsense in under-graduate school), it does not change the fact that I was clueless of how to handle the situation and, either way, my students were smart enough not to fall for it.

Will the liberals ever stop trying to achieve the perfect society? What will it take to make them happy? 100% taxation on anyone earning over $200,000? Free abortion and contraception and sterilization for all women? Free child care and medical care and full-ride education and housing for all women and non-white males? No mention of God or Jesus whatsoever anywhere, and protected status for burkas and mosques and all-things-Allah? No civil recognition of opposite-sex marriage and free everything for same-sex couples?

Something tells me that even if liberals achieved every last iota of their socialist agenda for the next 50 years, they will still be whining that things are not FAIR and that the rich (anyone making over $20,000 a year) are heartless and uncaring haters. Of course, we will not make 50 years if the liberals are allowed to run amok unfettered.

There is a movie coming out soon called 2016. Here is a trailer for that movie, which I plan to see as soon as it is released, hopefully next week.



That nominal year is second in import only to the most important and critical date we have ever faced in this country's history -- November 6, 2012. On that date, we the people will determine whether we continue on the downward spiral into oblivion in the name of striving for the impossible -- Ameritopia. Or do we return to the fundamental principles that made this country the greatest that has ever existed on earth? I, for one, am praying for and working for and betting on the latter.

Three isn't always a crowd, but is four?

So, today I had the day off since we close our office for Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Monday. It is kind of a mini-vacation for us. I slept in for a little bit this morning, but since Hubby had to get up and get ready for work, I was awake earlier than I would have liked. Add to that a sore throat (from Spring allergies) and I was up and about by 7:15. But that was well and good since I had lots on my agenda to accomplish today.

Since I was alone, I ventured over to a little dive called Linda's Cafe for breakfast. We get coupons monthly, and this little place has had coupons in the mix for months now. Hubby has never expressed an interest, so I decided to be adventurous and use the discount breakfast coupon. There was one other person in the joint when I got there. The food was pretty good, and I managed to read a chapter in Mark Levin's newest book Ameritopia. Wow! This should be required reading in all levels of education -- especially college. I will tell you more about it later. This is a blog entry about my day off, so I don't want to interrupt it with reality.

Back at the ranch, I completed my passport application, located my marriage certificate, researched the filing fees, and wrote out the check to cover the fees. I had to send it for expedited service as I am going to chaperone our daughter's Medical Missionaries' trip to Haiti in June. A relatively quick trip to the post office ensued, and I was able to mail the application and arrive back home by 9:30.

A short time later, our 17 year-old showed up with her mom's three dogs. We are going to dog-sit for a couple of days while her mom and younger sister go to Hershey Park. Two of the dogs are regulars at our house, so they are familiar with things.

Robby Jonas

Riley Grace

 
Dog number 3, Buffy, only recently came to live with them and is new to everything at our house. I was worried that she would not "fit in" with the three of us (Robby, Riley and me). That was needless. Buffy was a bit wary of me at first, but she warmed up and made herself at home quickly. Her comfort in her surroundings manifested itself most conspicuously in her affinity for digging. She is a dachshund, so she has that tendency. After she dug three holes in my back yard that I am in the process of manicuring, I finally had to tether her to a big tree. It is the tree that I am planning to build a flower box around before the month is out. Grass will not grow around it, and its roots protrude like appendages through the moss. So, she was free to dig to her hearts content. And she did.

The tree on left is THE tree

Later, the three dogs and I went for a walk around the block. I have often walked the two original dogs, Riley (a miniature schnauzer) and Robby (a Maltese), so the three of us manage well. However, THREE dogs + me was questionable. I was planning just to go up a dead-end street around the corner from our house and then come back home. But the four of us managed so well that I decided to follow Riley's lead and go around the full block on our usual route. That's a pretty good trek for a little dog, much less a dachshund with 3 inch legs!

I was pleasantly surprised at how well things went. Sure, managing three leashes is a bit more challenging than a mere two, but Buffy kept up quite well. We conquered the neighborhood hills and maneuvered through the maze of stairs at the high school next door. The thirty-minute walk was invigorating! And the best part was that Buffy was initiated into my theory that if I wear their little puppy backsides out, they will finally conk out and give me a few minutes of peace for myself! A picture is worth a thousand words!

Round 2 with Rocky the Raccoon

Sometimes stories end, and sometimes they linger. Yesterday I got home from the office and had a few minutes before the rest of the clan got home. We had plans to go out and celebrate a birthday meal for our one-day-shy-of-17-years daughter. I took a few minutes to unwind by walking through the yard to see the beautiful flowers that are gracing the landscape in all their glory. Then I went inside and thought I would spend a few minutes preparing for my next blog post.

I had barely logged onto the internet when I heard it. The sound is familiar by now. And the source too. He's baaaaaaack. Luckily I had my camera laying close by this time, although I was not sure whether the batteries would be able to power the flash. I had just used the camera the previous day to take some photos that you'll see in a later blog, and the camera had indicated the batteries were dead. Usually though I can get a couple more shots out of the batteries if they sit a while. I had not bought new batteries yet since I did not know I would need the camera so soon.

As I started up the steps to our master bedroom, the front door opened and in bounded our 13 year-old. "Hello!" she excitedly pronounced. Without really looking at her, I motioned with my finger over my lips and said in my whisper-shout voice, "He's back. . . ," and continued up the steps. I yanked open my husband's closet door that hides the clandestine opening into the nether regions of our attic. Pushing his shirts aside, I labored to lift myself up to the mid-torso high shelf that allows access to the miniature door. (Geez, what a chore it has become to do those things that came so naturally as a kid!)

Making sure that my camera was turned on and within arms-length, I noticed that my husband had arrived in our room, as had our daughter. "Flashlight," I ordered, the way a surgeon would order his surgical assistant. "Flashlight," repeated our daughter to her dad, and he passed along the one that was laying on his nightstand. (Thank goodness I had ordered those six little LED flashlights from Daily Steals last December -- we have one on almost every room now.)

With flashlight in mouth (gross, I know, but necessary so my hands could be free to perform their duties), I unlatched the door and swung it open into the darkness of the attic. I quickly shifted the camera into place and snapped a picture without aiming. (Think Jody Foster in Silence of the Lambs, firing into the dark when Buffalo Bill was reaching for her in his night-vision goggles.)

After the bright flash subsided, I hit the button that allows you to review the picture you just took. "Is it there?" asked Hubby. "I can't tell," I said. So I aimed in the direction where we had seen the critter a few nights earlier and fired off another shot -- luckily, the camera flash was holding out.

Voila! Busted! Rocky was there, glaring back, trying to remain hidden in the insulation. (Did he not know that stuff has fiberglass in it? Guess not.) I snapped a couple more pics, for evidentiary purposes.

Rocky did not look at all happy to be disturbed. The glint in his eyes was a dead giveaway.

Since we were on a tight schedule and needed to get on the road to the restaurant, I decided to act decisively to rid our abode of this unwanted creature. "Radio from the garage," I ordered. Dad went running. "And extension cord," I added. Daughter ran after father to convey that additional command. While I waited for them to retrieve the weapons, I turned back to the black hole and shone the light.

Nothing. He was gone from sight.

I shone the light around to see if he had moved toward the vent slats where we suspect he had gained entry. No sign of him. He must have burrowed back into the fiberglass. It was the old "I-can't-see-you-so-you-can't-see-me" routine. And he was right. I could not see him.

I was surprised at the speed with which my minions retrieved the weapons of choice. I hurriedly plugged the cord of the boom-box into the extension cord. When Hubby plugged it in, I turned the volume up and adjusted the station-finder knob. I thought about looking for WMAL - the local station that broadcasts Rush Limbaugh -- might as well let the critter get educated before he moved out. But it was past time for Rush -- Mark Levin was on--but the radio was on FM rather than AM. I simply made sure there was noise coming out -- it was tuned between stations so it sounded something like the demon voices that came out of Linda Blair in The Exorcist. I set the radio in place, pumped up the volume, and closed the door.

The Arlington Animal Welfare League website had said that raccoons don't like loud noise. I could vouch for the fact that when we had banged heavily on the ceiling on previous occasions when he heard Rocky above, the scratching had stopped. So I believed this to be true. Rocky would have to decide whether to stay or go. Meanwhile we were off to the restaurant.

To make a long story short (don't you hate it when people say that and then go on with the long story?), we got home around 10:00 p.m. and immediately headed to the attic door to see if there were any developments. The gibberish was still emanating from the boombox in the attic, so Rocky apparently had not sought to destroy the weapon of mass destruction. I opened the door slowly. (I forgot to mention that in the earlier attempt to ready the defense shield that evening we had discovered a light switch right inside the mini-door, and had left the light on also when we departed for dinner.) I silenced the noise-maker, listened and looked around the attic. Nothing.

Now was the time for physical infiltration. With some effort--and equal determination--I hoisted myself up into the attic. "Be careful," shouted Hubby from down below. I stepped gingerly over to where Rocky had last been visible. The insulation was gone from between two rafters/joists, exposing the plasterboard or drywall or whatever the ceiling to the kitchen/dining room below is called from up above. No Rocky.

I sidled over to the vented slats, visible in the first picture posted above. Although not a really large opening, one of the lower slats was obviously askew and was detached from its moorings. "If he can get his head in, he can get the rest of his body in." The haunting words of Thumbelina-from-Animal-Control on the phone two nights earlier came back to me. "I need wire or string to tie up this broken slat," I called out to the waiting Dynamic Duo, faces framed in the mini-doorway. Off trundled Hubby to oblige me.

Moments later he was back, and I stepped toward the mini-door to retrieve the items of mass repair. "I couldn't find string or wire," he said (which I interpreted as "I didn't look for string or wire"), "but try this tape." I thought to myself, "Duct tape will work," and I reached out my hand. What he offered instead was a roll of blue painter's tape. (We have tons of blue painter's tape, so its presence did not surprise me, but to repair a dislodged metal slat?) Noticing the look on my face (the WHAT?-look), Hubby said I should just use this tape to tack up the slat, and we could see if Rocky tries to break through it. Hmmm. Actually, a better plan than what I had envisioned, I must admit.

So, I quickly tore off several strips of blue tape and applied them strategically to hold the slat in place. Mission accomplished. Off to bed we all went.

This morning I got up at my 5:30 rising time and headed off to start the day at the gym. I arrived at the office at 8:00, and was pecking away at my keyboard when an email came through in my work inbox around 8:50. Hubby sent me a picture that he took before leaving home this morning.

The slat that was drooping only a couple of inches is now almost completely severed from its moorings. Rocky must have been really ticked off!

Email traffic:

Hubby: See picture of house vent -- he must have left during the night! 

Me: Or came back in!!!!! Wow! We got the evidence. I feel like a reporter! More fodder for by blog!

Hubby: I peeked this morning and did not see anything -- There might be a party going on when we get home as I left the radio on!

Me: Did you leave the slat hanging that way? We will need to fix it this weekend, whether or not Rocky is still there! And we should cover the opening to the other part of the attic too so it cannot go over to where our stuff is stored.

Hubby: So I have a "honey-do-list"! I have some screen in the garage and a heavy duty stapler.  I hate to leave "Rocky the Raccoon" in the attic - - we might have to call in the "mortician"

Me: I suspect you are right, that he went OUT. But, we won’t be sure until we inspect. I think we can sprinkle some flour on the floor and assess whether his pawprints are heading out or in… He must have been hiding last night when I was taping up the vent slat… We’ll get creative so we can tell what the rascal is up to!!

Hubby: Here are 3 videos on raccoons

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=thzUR_mq6OY 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CZOeWFBy75A 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuLcHkfI3FQ 

Of course Beetles sang "Rocky Raccoon"  -- see video at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Avn--IrNy1w&feature=related

Me:

[Silence. I am playing possum, watching videos.]

PETA and SPCA Disclaimer: No raccoons were injured in the attempted extermination described herein. Feel free to try this at home.