All Your Emails R Belong to Us

…meaning the US government.

NSA whistleblower William Binney explains how our imperial government has been storing ALL our emails for years (so don’t freak out and delete everything now, because it’s already copied and stored and indexed, hee hee, ho ho). How do you think they had access to Gen. John Allen’s 20K emails within hours of the breaking Patraeus/Broadwell scandal?

If that doesn’t scare the ever-loving stuffin’ out of your Christmas bird, then consider this – your DVR and/or cable box is watching AND listening to you. Supposedly for targeted marketing, but can you really be sure?

It brings an entirely new meaning to “making and list and checking it twice,” doesn’t it?

A Jobs-Lost Visual Aid

A map of employment gains or losses by county tells the story of how those job losses first struck in the most vulnerable regions and then spread rapidly to the rest of the country.

It won’t embed here, so go there. I’ll wait.

Nauseous? I bet. Add to that the fact that the Obama White House said nuclear blast victims would have to “wait” if when America is attacked due to his spineless performance as POTUS.

If he can’t tax us to death, he’ll watch us die of radiation poisoning.

And yes, I’m in a bad mood today. Thanks for asking!

Sheltering Arms

This wonderful UK PSA, via The Anchoress:

[[[The video link won’t embed. Either go to The Anchoress’ post for view it here. Drat.]]]

My family tires of my harping about wearing their seatbelts. What they don’t know is that I lost a friend in college who wasn’t wearing hers. It would have saved her life. What better to protect yourself than with the strong arms of those who love you?

Mel, I think of you every day. You are not forgotten.

Some Advice for President Obama

(h/t Patriot Room)

Judging from your dismal SOTU, you might like to heed this gentleman’s advice. After all, he LOVES America. Something you’re not terribly familiar with…

Dear President Obama,

My name is Harold Estes, approaching 95 on December 13 of this year. People meeting me for the first time don’t believe my age because I remain wrinkle free and pretty much mentally alert.

I enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 1934 and served proudly before, during and after WW II retiring as a Master Chief Bos’n Mate. Now I live in a “rest home” located on the western end of Pearl Harbor, allowing me to keep alive the memories of 23 years of service to my country.

One of the benefits of my age, perhaps the only one, is to speak my mind, blunt and direct even to the head man. So here goes.

I am amazed, angry and determined not to see my country die before I do, but you seem hell bent not to grant me that wish.

I can’t figure out what country you are the president of.

You fly around the world telling our friends and enemies despicable lies like: “We’re no longer a Christian nation” “America is arrogant” — (Your wife even announced to the world, “America is mean- spirited.” Please tell her to try preaching that nonsense to 23 generations of our war dead buried all over the globe who died for no other reason than to free a whole lot of strangers from tyranny and hopelessness.)

I’d say shame on the both of you, but I don’t think you like America, nor do I see an ounce of gratefulness in anything you do, for the obvious gifts this country has given you. To be without shame or gratefulness is a dangerous thing for a man sitting in the White House.

After 9/11 you said, “America hasn’t lived up to her ideals.”

Which ones did you mean? Was it the notion of personal liberty that 11,000 farmers and shopkeepers died for to win independence from the British? Or maybe the ideal that no man should be a slave to another man, that 500,000 men died for in the Civil War? I hope you didn’t mean the ideal 470,000 fathers, brothers, husbands, and a lot of fellas I knew personally died for in WWII, because we felt real strongly about not letting any nation push us around, because we stand for freedom.

I don’t think you mean the ideal that says equality is better than discrimination. You know the one that a whole lot of white people understood when they helped to get you elected.

Take a little advice from a very old geezer, young man.

Shape up and start acting like an American. If you don’t, I’ll do what I can to see you get shipped out of that fancy rental on Pennsylvania Avenue. You were elected to lead not to bow, apologize and kiss the hands of murderers and corrupt leaders who still treat their people like slaves.

And just who do you think you are telling the American people not to jump to conclusions and condemn that Muslim major who killed 13 of his fellow soldiers and wounded dozens more. You mean you don’t want us to do what you did when that white cop used force to subdue that black college professor in Massachusetts, who was putting up a fight? You don’t mind offending the police calling them stupid but you don’t want us to offend Muslim fanatics by calling them what they are, terrorists.

One more thing. I realize you never served in the military and never had to defend your country with your life, but you’re the Commander-in-Chief now, son. Do your job. When your battle-hardened field General asks you for 40,000 more troops to complete the mission, give them to him. But if you’re not in this fight to win, then get out. The life of one American soldier is not worth the best political strategy you’re thinking of.

You could be our greatest president because you face the greatest challenge ever presented to any president.

You’re not going to restore American greatness by bringing back our bloated economy. That’s not our greatest threat. Losing the heart and soul of who we are as Americans is our big fight now.

And I sure as hell don’t want to think my president is the enemy in this final battle.

Harold B. Estes

Quotes of the Day

“Because the fruit of their faith is surely the apple whose core is an orgy of worms in a knot of rot.” Smitty of The Other McCain

There is the battlefield on which we live or die, and it is a fight that should not involve party lines, at all. If we lose sight of it in the fog, we lose everything.” Elizabeth, The Anchoress

“The Scary Thing is He Fits Right into Seattle.” Gerard at American Digest

Bwaaahahaaahaaaha (Or How to View LGF Without Leaving a Mark)

Like myself, BirdBrain has had enough of crazy King Charles at Little Green Footballs. She outlines how to see the site without feeding the black hole of his EGO along with a link to Saberpoint, who has other helpful instructions and insightful opinions.

Fun With Numbers, Semper Fi and Trog Gets a Nod

Troglopundit gets recognized for incivility in the blogosphere. Well done, sir! Surely Carol at No Sheeples Here can come up with a snazzy coat of arms for your achievement.

Red meat via HotAir, as a Marine “politely” asks his Congressman to honor the oath he took to represent the people!

Semper Fi!

Not to be outdone by yesterday’s exercise in higher math at a bazillionaire’s expense, today I present the latest episode of “Fun with Numbers”!

Stacy of The Other McCain reports on union propaganda circulated against John Mackey, CEO of Whole Foods. His magic number is 21,900.

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

(BTW, The Hubs made the first trip to Whole Foods in quite a while Friday, just to support them. Have you?)

That dapper Steven Green of VodkaPundit – his number is 40+ when estimating the number of seats the Donks will lose if this health care fiasco passes. (No ladies, not that number, that number is always a 10!)

obama wealth destruction

Fausta notes that as soon Obama raised his stimulus projection, he vamoosed out of town for the Vineyard. Enjoy the hurricane, bro. Her number – 9 trillion.

Clairvoyant Doug Ross of DirectorBlue points to a much appreciated new website: I’m Sorry I Voted For Obama. Really.

Consider it a support group for the disillusioned.

Doug’s number is 5,000,000,000. I really like that number.

Tune in next time for more “Fun with Numbers”!

(Thanks to Nice Deb for the graphic)

The Land of the Living is Just Over the Horizon

On the mend… in the meantime, a little Rule 5 Happiness for The Ladies. And as much as I’d like to lie, Lance, that is NOT me playing the Bach #3. I just love these morphie thingies. Know what would make it picture perfect? If Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt were replaced by Mark Harmon.

Just Hilarious

Iowahawk at his finest. (Stow all liquids before reading.)

Tweet Withdrawl

If we had relied on our MSM, we’d never know what really happened (and is continuing to happen) in Iran. During these last few days, Twitter has proven it’s worth as an immediate source of news on the ground.

Two new tools I’ve discovered during this time greatly enriched this new experience with technology: PicFog and TwitterFall. Like Twitter, they are searchable. Use hashtag #iranelection and be amazed. But I must wean myself and there is work to do, supper to cook, soccer cleats to salivate over. Must focus. Fohhh-cusss.

The MSM is lying yet again, forcing everything into it’s tired old Obama Adoration Lobotomized Zombie Happy Meal. That’s all they can do; they’ve forgotten how to report news. Are you surprised?

The New John Wayne?

H/T HotAir

I post, you decide.

The Gift of Tears

For many years, friends and acquaintances have told me I have the “Gift of Tears.” Ol’ Gusher, that’s me.

If you don’t read anything else today, read this at The Anchoress.

A wise old nun once told me [her] that some people are “gifted” with tears, and this is a very great gift, because the tears are an outward manifestation of Wisdom and Understanding. Those, of course, are gifts of the Holy Spirit, and with them comes gratitude, and with gratitude comes increasing JOY, which is one of the Fruits of the Spirit.

Appliance Wars

Living in today’s economy, everybody is trying to stretch their pennies before the Evil Administration comes and confiscates the copper for some Evil Plot that promises higher piles of massive debt for generations to come.

We’ve always pushed our [insert random devices here] hard, usually well past their meaningful life-span. Especially cars, but that is a post for another day as we are AGAIN in angst over acquiring proper transportation for one of the clueless younglings without visiting the dreadful D-word (Dealership….shudder!).

So today, this story over at the Yarn Harlot had me ROTFLOL, as I can completely and totally relate to her anxiety. A DNR for a dishwasher? Hilarious! Steph made my day.

Go Trek Yourself

Hilarious! I just did the family pooch. He makes a pretty good looking Romulan. Here, go have fun!

(h/t VodkaPundit)

A Dip That Doesn’t Drip

On Thursday, we turn our thoughts to food. Glorious food. Those who have met me in person (CPAC! Yeah!) know I’m not some twig-like wraith. In fact, I entered the Mrs. Chins Beauty Pageant and Chili Cookoff just a few weeks ago. With a giant storm just over the Alabama line and barreling our way, we turn our thoughts to warm, comfort food. Stuff that will sustain us when the roof blows off.

Some years ago, Obi’s dear wife and my dear sister-in-law had a short-lived but enlightening entry-level job with Natalie Dupree. Those who have lived in Atlanta for a long, long time, will remember Ms. Dupree from the Rich’s School of Cooking and her own ill-fated cooking show on GPB. I say ill-fated, because every week’s episode produced some type of epicurean disaster and a big mess in the studio kitchen. Her tag line was always, “Well, yours will look better than this…”

The one good thing to come from her stint in that wreckage was a recipe that SIL refined and made her own. So much so, it is a stable of family gatherings.

Hot Crab Dip

1 8 oz. package cream cheese, softened
1 Tablespoon milk
6 1/2 oz. crab meat, drained
2 Tablespoons finely chopped onion
1/2 teaspoon horseradish
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon pepper
1/3 cup sliced almonds

Mix all ingredients except almonds and turn into a lovely ovenproof crock. Top with almonds. Bake at 375 F. for 15 minutes or until golden and bubbly. Enjoy with crackers, toast or just a big spoon because it doesn’t drip.

Oh, about that drip… Stacy will tell you all about it him.

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