After a sergeant in the Marine Corps reached mandatory age and got mustered out, he entered civilian life and became a high school teacher. Just before the school year started, the former enlisted Marine injured his back. He was required to wear a plaster cast around the upper part of his body. Fortunately, the cast fit under his shirt and wasn’t noticeable.
On the first day of class, he found himself assigned to the toughest students in the school. The smart-aleck punks, having already heard the new teacher was a Marine, were leery of him and he knew they would be testing his discipline in the classroom.
Walking confidently into the rowdy classroom, the new teacher opened the window wide and sat down at his desk. When a strong breeze made his tie flap, he picked up a stapler and stapled the tie to his chest.
But since English is my second language, I can use it out of naivete.
And I feel it means “internal spirit” or “internal push to do something”…
Like “Man, it took a lot of spunk to work like that.”
Of course, I understand it can refer to something else… You know, foreigners learn bad words first.
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So why bring up this word? Are you afraid of getting spunked?
Well, America now has 478 million people that need to be spunkified. That’s 478,000,000, folks.
Why?
All of these 478 million people are on food stamps. That’s a lot of missing spunk.
Original food stamps.
I don’t know how many of them are citizens or have green cards or are “undocumented”.
Of course, there’s a number of the 478,000,000 folks just down on their luck… But for the most part, the remainder have no spunk.
That’s how they live day to day. On food stamps. That the people WITH spunk for the most part are paying for.
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Did you think 478 million was a big number? Well, how about 78 billion… That’s in dollars. $78,000,000,000. Three more zeros than 478,000,000.
That’s how much this food stamp program is costing us.
That’s how much of us “with spunk” are losing out of our paychecks.
Would you like to hear something more sickening?
$3,000,000,000 – three BILLION dollars – of that $78,000,000,000 is spent on ADMINISTRATION. To me, that is plain sick. Stupidity. Unnecessary staff to meet stupid legalities.
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Obama said at the beginning that he believes food stamps is an economic stimulant.
Bull pucky.
The food stamp program started in 1939. We were in the Depression. People were hungry and crops and food stuffs were stockpiling on the farmlands.
One of the original food stamps poster. Circa 1939
So FDR came to a startling and brilliant idea – let’s give out free money to those that are hungry. It’s free to them as working people had taxes taken from their pay. Then the hungry can then buy the food stuffs stockpiling on our farms! Win-Win-(Lose)!
Well, thank goodness, World War II began. The Depression ended with the American will power to… work. The food stamp program – which was experimental – officially ended in 1943. About 4 million Americans received assistance in those four years.
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Well… Guess what JFK did in his first day in office in 1960.
Yup. He signed an Executive Order. (The same type of directive that put my father into those prison camps during WWII. I hate those suckers.)
This Executive Order reinstated the food stamp program. After, it was one of his campaign promises.
…And that’s all she wrote. Now, one out of seven six Americans are on food stamps (called the SNAP program now).
1 out of 76.
And you know what? It is true. You can live a better life with food stamps and NOT working. You even get free health benefits!
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To some, this post will cause irritation if not anger. For others, they are irritated or angry. They are angry because the country’s majority has voted for this, in one way, shape or form… This minority of voters didn’t believe in an endless entitlement mentality…nor want it.
Indeed, a heckuva a people need to get spunkified.
Face it. Our country is clearly headed in the wrong direction. We are even furloughing our military.
Damn the lawyers and damn the minority rights activists. It has moved too far towards the extreme in the past six years.
Make it hard to get free food. Make them work for it.
This needs to be stopped…
(ps This is just an opinion. There is no right or wrong. There is no intent to rile anybody and all constructive comments will be appreciated.)
The White House as it looked when President Adams occupied it. whitehousehistory.org
Mr. President, I take exception to your leadership. I feel it is flawed.
You are supposed to be MY president.
My fellow Mustang buddy’s president. He’s Black and has a doctorate. Oh. He’s married to a Middle Eastern lady – who screams while sitting shotgun in his grossly overpowered car.
My neighbor’s president. He’s Hispanic, an American citizen and is in the USAF (and who got his pay cut due to The (Dumb) Sequester.)
My blogging friend’s president. She is Irish with blazing red hair.
Yes, even #41 and #43’s president. They are Caucasian and BOTH served in the Armed Forces. Hell, #41 was shot down and lost his two crew members. Like Old Man Jack, even he must’ve had nightmares for the rest of his life.
You are the elected person to represent ALL of us…together.
But do you?
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Yes, I voted for the other guy. Glad that’s out in the open. Whew. Now hate me.
But all through your campaigns and years in office, you have made it a point to distinguish (imply?) yourself to be Black…and rarely or never infer that you are “White”.
How can that be, Mr. President? Your mother was White. Your father was Black.
To me, that’s 50%-50%.
President Obama’s parents
It’s simple math. The same simple math taught in school. Well, pardon me. Not too many folks recall seeing you in class.
Perhaps you ditched classes, Mr. President, just like my angelic oldest daughter..? But my oldest daughter got straight A’s. I’ll let you see her report card if you’ll show me your transcripts.
So I excuse you on your mathematical error.
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Trayvon Martin died on February 26, 2012.
On March 23, 2012, you said on national TV:
“But my main message is to the parents of Trayvon Martin. If I had a son, he’d look like Trayvon. And I think they are right to expect that all of us as Americans are going to take this with the seriousness it deserves, and that we’re going to get to the bottom of exactly what happened.” (Note: President Obama, the LOCAL authorities and DA DID get to the bottom of exactly what happened shortly after the shooting, right?)
After the verdict was read, you made another statement. On July 20, 2013, you said:
“When Trayvon Martin was first shot, I said that this could have been my son,” Obama said. “Another way of saying that is Trayvon Martin could have been me 35 years ago.”
First speech mentioning Trayvon Martin.
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The Zimmerman/Martin fight took place in a smaller township called Sanford, FL. The local – LOCAL – authorities concluded there was not enough evidence to hold or charge Zimmerman under their STATE laws.
But alas… The MEDIA was a huge contributor. In my opinion, it was primarily CNN who started a fire where there should have been none. Day after day, they tried to “stir the pot”, as they say. RACE came into the limelight thanks to CNN fueling the self-grown fire.
Then Obama’s ill-advised comment… RACE again. He’s HALF-WHITE.
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Race is one thing contributing to the deepening divide amongst our citizens.
In his first speech, he fueled the frenzy with those words, “…and that we’re going to get to the bottom of exactly what happened.”
Who is “we’re”? Him? The Feds? It fell under state and LOCAL jurisdiction. And the local law enforcement and DA – closest to the case and evidence – had closed its case.
Obama and CNN was pouring copious amounts of salt onto a festering wound.
By the way… How does CNN pick which murder to sensationalize? Why didn’t CNN sensationalize this more recent one – of four Blacks killing an unarmed White college student:
I am curious why you did not come out in front of our nation and say, “If I had a son, he’d look like Joshua Proutey.”
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In closing, how DARE Obama distinguish himself from me implying Trayvon Martin could have been his son – for whatever reason – in front of our country.
You are supposed to be MY president.
You are to lead us… represent all of us… and not imply “favoring” one race over another.
How do you bring this together instead of dividing it?
Simple. Like this:
THIS is how YOU should lead OUR country, Mr. Obama. (White House Archives)
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Face it. There are racists.
White people who hate other races. Blacks who hate other races. Asians who hate other races.
Lead us. Tell us citizens to quell this lunacy…and get off the minority soap box at the same time.
ps PLEASE PAY MY USAF BUDDY. HE IS IN HARM’S WAY AND WORKING TO PROTECT US. HE IS NOT HOLDING HIS HAND OUT LIKE 47 MILLION OTHERS ARE.
We had a special guest come over and VOILA! A baklava baking party!
My Jordanian lady friend “A” and I made plans for her to stop by and teach us how to make baklava – the authentic Jordanian way. Can’t get more genuine than that, can you?
All the kids were eager to help out, including Jack and Brooke’s good Syrian classmates. It was really great to hear their classmates talk in Arabic with “A”!
Brooke and her friend were responsible for the delicious syrup made out of cinnamon sticks, lime zest, cloves, water and sugar…oh, and honey too. It really turned out fabulous! You know – the girlie touch.
The girlie touch!
Constructing it was quite simple. “A” had brought chopped almonds and walnuts which served as the main yummy part (with the syrup!). She layered sheet after sheet of phyllo dough with unsalted butter brushed in between. Then came the yummy nut filling topped with more phyllo dough.
It was baked in two stages at 350F – 30 minutes at the lowest rack setting then finished off with 30 minutes with the rack raised to the second tier from the top.
Man, it was really starting to smell great while baking… When it was done, “A” carefully cut the baklava into squares, then into the triangles you saw in the first photo. She then slowly drizzled the sweet syrup all over the pastry through a strainer.
A few of you know I’ve been in a little bit of “funk” the past month or so…
No real reason… just things.
But I had a GREAT Father’s Day! So a belated and short post.
It started out with seeing my “second” dad – Old Man Jack. I last visited Jack on Memorial Day… but it was a bit saddening to see that his only daughter hadn’t been by.
It’s always good to see him – although I didn’t stop by in my LOUD supercharged Mustang he loved so much.
Of course, you can only have one dad… and mine’s 94. We had a Father’s Day Brunch at his assisted living center and his luckily, his appetite was back. We enjoyed a special Father’s Day brunch. Meat and potatoes! His fave!
He then finished off his lunch with…sweets! Man, he’s got a sweet tooth! These were Japanese candies sent to him from my cousin Masako (and Izumi) in Hiroshima. (He had four. lol)
Does he look content? LOL
And someone “special” had called… and wanted to give me a Father’s Day hug! Ou-la-la! She is a gal with one of the sweetest souls around…and she shall remain nameless. 🙂
She’s had a positive impact on me. 🙂
And then… the grand finale…
I headed up from Fashion Island in Newport Beach to Pomona…My oldest son, Takeshi……graduated from Cal Poly Pomona! He’s even got a straight A streak going! And he BEAT his brilliant sister in Organic Chemistry by getting an A! She will never hear the end of that one… 🙂
Congratulations, son! And a BIG thanks to my ex and his step-dad. I couldn’t ask for a better guy.
I don’t think an old man can ask for anything greater than that superific day!
Nothing serious. Something wrong with her growth plate in her knee plus “osteochondroma of the medial tibia”.
So she’s been on crutches for a couple weeks plus a knee brace…and for the MRI, I reassured her there was nothing to worry about. It would be just some noise and “a shot”.
But after the MRI yesterday, she was a tad upset with me. Well, a mild rant, really…lasting over three hours.
She basically implied that I withheld valuable information from her…regarding the “shot”.
Well, she was right.
It was really an IV…and she said there were TWO injections of dye.
And that the IV needle was in her arm for TWENTY minutes (she exaggerated – of course)…unlike the flu shot three months ago ” that I tried to kill her with and (she) still got sick”.
And that the dye injections made her mouth taste like ocean water and it smelled like garbage.
Oh well.
But she survived.
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Well, she got back at me this morning…because she claims I withheld valuable information from her.
I had to muscle her out of bed and whoo-ee… Was she grumpy or what. But she immediately reminded me while flailing her good arm in no particular pattern “her arm hurt (because of the shot)”. She stopped flailing her good arm just to point to the injection point.
We were running late (on account of she wouldn’t get out of bed, of course). I told her to get in the car while I changed my slacks. (They were too tight. It must be how Halle Berry felt in her Catwoman outfit.)
Hurried to the car and about a half-mile down the street, I looked at her and noticed something. So I asked.
“Buru (my nickname for Brooke), where’s your OTHER crutch?”
She then said with her “give me sympathy” tone of voice, “But Papaa-aaa…” You know. When the voice drags on and goes up and down.
“But Papaa-aaa (she said it twice)… I was too tired this morning so I didn’t want to go look for it…”
So I said, “So you were gonna walk around all day at school today with just one crutch?” to which she just makes a small giggling sound while smiling so innocently back at me.
Had to turn around to get the dang crutch; found it at 6:44 AM.
She got back me all right, that sneaky little thing.
Just thought that was a catchy title…albeit a bit misleading like our media. Just a tad misleading…’cuz the butt’s the other end.
I guess the news guys are finally rubbing off on me after all.
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But as I watched my kids and their friends play in the front, I felt like playing around with my new, fancy-schmancy Canon point and shoot – specifically hand held close-ups of the business end of a nice cigar.
It was amazing that an inexpensive camera such as this could take such equally amazing (yuk to some!) close-ups:
I did switch to my standard Canon DSLR to snap these fun snapshots of my kids. Little Brooke likes the distortion that erupts with this Canon 10-22mm lens…although a certain pro photographer buddy of mine will likely BBQ me over a slow but hot flame for using it.
A precious little girl walks into a PetSmart store.
She asks with the sweetest little lisp between two missing teeth, “Excuthe me, mithter. Where do you keep the widdle wabbits?”
As the shopkeeper’s heart melts, he gets down on his knees so that he’s on her level and asks, “Do you want a widdle white wabbit, or a thoft and fuwwy, bwack wabbit, or maybe one like that cute widdle bwown wabbit over there?”
She, in turn, blushes, rocks on her heels, puts her hands on her knees, leans forward and says, in a tiny quiet voice:
Picked up the wall portrait of my kids from Alan Miyatake of Toyo Miyatake Studios.This appears to be an artistic rendition of one of Alan’s photographs of Ms. Condoleezza Rice?The famous grandfather of Alan, Toyo Miyatake.
Went to visit dad… The workers there told me he’s not eating much as of late. He only had a small salad with a little bit of chicken for lunch. When I asked him if he was hungry, he said no but when I showed him one of his favorite Japanese treats, he went to town.
Number one.
There goes number two!
Number three down the hatch!
He’s happy now. 🙂 And he did finish the last ball.
Took him one of Alan’s 8×10’s…labeled. He’s 94 now.
My bud Brian drove down from Reno for St. Paddy’s Day weekend – no better excuse to share a stogie together!
Played around with my new Canon SX260 HS point and shoot camera. Never had one that I can remember but it was fun to shoot with.
Superior close up capability.
Hand held. Look at the detail… Not bad for a shaky ol’ fart?
I’m keeping an eye on all of you! Who’s got Visine?
Fish eye setting…
My neighbor’s new son, Gabriel. The father is USAF… I pray for his safe return always.
And finally, these were for me. Like father, like son! LOL
Masako and Spam Musubi 