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Why Do You Think They Call’em Fog Lights Bubba?


J. D. Pendry


Driving to work on clear mornings, I often ask that question.  Usually, while partially blinded.  It irritates me.  I resolved to avoid irritating subjects this year and focus on other things.  This resolution held on longer than most do.  The hate mail I used to get is like the irritant of those glaring fog lights.  I miss the normalcy of an irritant when it’s not there.  So, a few thoughts as the world points toward a historic week.


By the time many of you read this, the Iraqi elections will have taken place or be under way.  The choices we have according to the diametrically opposed fatheads that allegedly know about this stuff are that it’ll be either a catastrophic failure or a glaring success measured by its impact on us more so than its affect on the Iraqis.  It’s an odd way to think.  In our last election, 60 percent of the eligible population voted.  We offered a collective wow over that “historically large” turn out.  Did anyone offer to kill you and your family if you voted?  More often than not, less than half of America casts votes for the rest.  We’ve always taken for granted our right - and privilege - to select the representatives of our government.  What if you lived your life in a country brutally ruled by a small minority of thugs and never had anything to say about it.  And, if you were brave enough to speak out against them they’d let you watch while they raped your daughter.  Won’t it be a success if any Iraqis venture out to vote?


While driving to work and listening to the radio – I experience much while driving to work – Don Imus, who is one of the liberal fatheads I can tolerate in small doses, actually said that democracy would never work in the Middle East.  It caused me to wonder if he was still on cocaine or if his last useable brain cell finally exploded.  He told all the souls filling Saadam’s mass graves that the life they had was good enough for them and they could not have handled having a voice in it.  It’s easy to make idiotic comments like that when you are a rich, secure American talking head that probably lost many years and much brain matter to drunken stupor.


Speaking of drunken stupors.  Did you get the text of Chappaquiddick Ted’s latest major foreign policy speech?  My brothers and sisters of arms currently serving in Iraq will be happy to know that Teddy broadcast to the world that they are the cause of the problems there, not the solution.  He equated us with the terrorists who are indiscriminately murdering non-combatants.  He said that they are fighting for the same thing as us – the hearts and minds of the Iraqi people.  Ted told the world, we’re losing that fight.  He did caveat his comments by saying that we have a great military.  Ted is an idiot.  His comments, which he must know are broadcast worldwide, are seditious and traitorous.  I’m sorry for America’s fighting men and women because idiots like Ted get a worldwide audience.  The irony is that every soldier I know – and that’s a bunch – will fight for Ted’s right to be an idiot.  One of my mentors, who I write about in my book, would offer Ted and the rest of the far left wing of the Democrat party Thompson’s Rule of Holes.  When you find yourself in one, stop digging.


I can’t apologize to you for the other knot heads in the Congress, but from over here in Wild and Wonderful, we provided you the Kleagle Bobby “Sheets” Byrd – Senator and “former” Klu Klux Klansman.  For that, I’m truly sorry.  Now that his memoirs are published, maybe he’ll dodder off somewhere.  I brought Sheets up because of his opposition to the confirmation of Dr. Rice as Secretary of State.  What really got my goose on this one is that I didn’t hear a peep from Julian Bond or Jesse Jackson or the other self-proclaimed civil rights activists.  I’d think Julian and Jesse would lead the celebration at Dr. Rice’s selection.  An immensely qualified, African American woman appointed as Secretary of State and opposed by a Klansman, yet not a peep – nothing.  I don’t get it.  Do you reckon Sheets has Julian and Jesse blinded with the fog lights?




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J.D. Pendry is author of The Three Meter Zone, Random House/Ballantine.

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