The Lemming Watch

Harry Reid, the Tooth Fairy

Harry Reid is the modern-day tooth fairy. But you don’t need a freshly detached tooth to receive money from Harry; you only have to vote the way he wants you to. And, whereas for a tooth you may get a quarter or even a dollar, for a vote you can get millions or even billions of dollars—paid by the taxpayers of course.

Politico provides a list of some of the tooth fairy beneficiaries. Ben Nelson is the most outrageous; in spite of his initial resistance to the bill because of the abortion issue, he put his integrity under his pillow, and Harry the tooth fairy took it away and, in its place, gave Nebraska a 100 percent exemption ($45 million in the first decade alone) from paying any new Medicaid expenses—a truly jaw-dropping act.

Mary Landrieu of Louisiana showed the way a few weeks ago: she sold her principles for mere $300 million in Medicaid funding for her state. Now we find there are others who have won a similar jackpot from Harry the tooth fairy: Bernie Sanders of Vermont (an Independent yet) who, a few days before his windfall, was against the bill got $10 billion (that’s with a B) for his state.

Then there is Carl Levin of Michigan who carved out a lucrative exemption from Medicaid costs; and senators from Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, Florida, and New York lined up for goodies under their pillows.

One wonders how many of these porkers have even read the much-amended bill. One wonders if there is even one Democrat in the Senate with any integrity, who thinks in principles, and who could find the will to vote against what they know is a monstrosity. Can all 60 of them be far left socialists; can all 60 of them be so dense as to not see the train wreck this will cause; can all 60 of them be so corrupt? It’s hard to believe this is what America has come to.

Andrew Breitbart’s BigGovernment.com calls it the most corrupt piece of legislation in the nation’s history and gives more detailed information.

 If this bill were worthwhile it would not need a tooth fairy to rescue it from defeat.

Good dog, Toto

Near the end of the classic L. Frank Baum story, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Dorothy, with her dog Toto and her three friends, return to the Emerald City to see the Wizard once again. Having vanquished the Wicked Witch of the West, they had come to claim the rewards the Wizard had promised them during a previous visit if they would destroy the Witch.

Now the Wizard was considered an all-powerful and fearsome individual—one whom no one would dare defy lest his wrath descend upon them; and now he was trying to put them off (what we today call stonewalling). But he had promised, and Dorothy and her friends, who had gone through much travail to find and destroy the Witch, would not be put off and demanded their deserts. As the Wizard tried to delay them, they became angry, and the Cowardly Lion gave a mighty roar of protest. This so upset Toto that he jumped away in alarm and upset a screen in the corner of the room.

Lo, behind the screen was a little old man who claimed to be Oz, the Great and Terrible.

The ensuing conversation resulted in the little man admitting that he was making believe.

"Making believe!" cried Dorothy. "Are you not a Great Wizard?"

"Hush, my dear," he said. "Don't speak so loud, or you will be overheard--and I should be ruined. I'm supposed to be a Great Wizard."

"And aren't you?" she asked.

"Not a bit of it, my dear; I'm just a common man."

"You're more than that," said the Scarecrow, in a grieved tone; "you're a humbug."

"Exactly so!" declared the little man, rubbing his hands together as if it pleased him. "I am a humbug."

"Doesn't anyone else know you're a humbug?" asked Dorothy.

"No one knows it but you four--and myself," replied Oz. "I have fooled everyone so long that I thought I should never be found out. It was a great mistake my ever letting you into the Throne Room. Usually I will not see even my subjects, and so they believe I am something terrible."

Let’s re-phrase this dialogue to something more recent and familiar:

"Making believe!" cried the world. "Are you not a Great Climate Scientist?"

"Not a bit of it, my dears; I'm just a common researcher."

"You're more than that," said a few, in an accusing tone; "you're a humbug."

"Exactly so!" declared the little man, rubbing his hands together as if it pleased him. "I am a humbug."

"Doesn't anyone else know you're a humbug?" asked some.

"No one knows it but you few--and myself," replied the researcher. "I have fooled everyone so long that I thought I should never be found out. It was a great mistake my ever letting you into the University. Usually I will not see even my colleagues, and so they believe I am all-knowing."

Well, we know the parallels. Phil Jones of the Climate Research Unit at the University of East Anglia is a colossal humbug. He and his associates hoodwinked not only his “Emerald City”  sponsors at the United Nations, but most of the world. He falsified his data, corrupted the scientific process, and made colleagues complicit in a massive fraud. The people of the world had it coming. They never investigated what was going on behind the “Wizard’s” screen.

But some hacker or whistleblower (evidence seems to point to the latter) acted as our Toto and knocked down the screen.

Good dog, Toto—whoever you are.

Now if we only had a Toto to unmask the media cover-up.

We're Baaack!

We are back after taking a break of several weeks to install and configure our computer with Windows 7.

The install went almost flawlessly. Microsoft has really gotten installation down to a smooth and painless operation. And the new Windows is a big step from previous versions; it's much better than Vista; many people say it is just a minor step up from Vista, but it is quite a bit better. Apps load much faster, and the task bar is a wonder of user friendliness.

As you might guess, I'm an enthused user.

So, now that that's done, I should get back to a reasonable schedule of blog posts.