Flash from MSNBC today–the G8 protestors in Savanna are perturbed at the high police presence. “They don’t want to hear what we have to say!”
Neither do I. You haven’t had anything original to say in twenty years. You’re just mad because the police are keeping you from expressing your disapproval of policy by detroying everything in sight.
Over the past two and a half years Berkeley, California has added radical Middle Eastern politics to its chic campus culture. The result isn’t pretty. A city that prides itself on tolerance and diversity is fast-becoming an epicenter of hate.
Today’s protestors are giving protesting a bad name. But, they’re only doing what is expected of them. As an example, let us look at the crowd at Berkeley. Most are white, upper middle class kids with less interest in their school work than in joining a cause. They are provided with plenty of cash from their parents to purchase all the materials necessary to make posters and banners, or dress themselves up to symbolize agrieved parties.
They also have a willing band of tutors in the school administration and faculty that provides them with moral support. And they have a diverse group of haters among them to feed them causes.
Where is the value in protesting? When everyone around you agrees with what you have to say, or the complaints you voice, is that really protest? It is, in reality, jumping on the old bandwagon. No danger of being confronted by conflicting ideas, no danger of being hauled of to jail. Not much of a protest. But it makes them feel good. It gives them a sense of belonging to something bigger than themselves. Kinda like religion. Exactly like religion.
In the area of the world they protest about, people die every day. That is real. These kids think they understand that. After all, they are college students. They are hearing and reading things they never heard before, and assume nobody else has, either. Therefore, they are smarter than the rest of us. My goodness, their professors have PhDs! Who could know better than they?
I can’t decide whether they are narcissists or lack self-confidence.
Read Michael’s article and decide for yourself.
And then take a look at The Onion’s coverage of protests long past.
Michelle Malkin now has a blog. I’ve always enjoyed her writing, and her sense of balance. She is also one of the most knowlegeable observers of the illegal alien issue.
I had a great playing partner when I lived in Dallas. Simon was a 6-handicap. At the time, I was somewhere around 18, bouncing above and below on a regular basis. We played a match each weekend for a dollar, and that single bill went back and forth. I couldn’t compete against him in stroke play, but heads-up in match play I could handle things pretty well.
When we paired up in tournaments, though, I could use only 11 handicap strokes. That’s because we had a club rule which allowed for partners to have no more than a five-stroke differential. That always put us in a higher flight than I normally would have played in. It really didn’t matter. We always played well as a team, and kicked butt.
Before tournaments, we usually had a Calcutta bid. Each team is posted, and everyone has the opportunity to bid on “owning” that team. Depending on how the team finished, the “owner” got a cut of the Calcutta pool. We generally went high. Not at first, mind you, because people saw I was playing higher up the food chain than I should. After we won a couple of times, however, we became a hot property. It sometimes reached the level that I couldn’t afford to even bid on myself. Cash only, and I seldom carried more than $100 with me.
Anyway, we were quite the Ham & Egg team. Although I wasn’t scoring well in general (my scores at the time ranged from 78 to 108 in the handicap book), I could pull off some good ones. Simon was solid, but when he hit a bad one, I generally hit a good one.
I remember one par five where we played a two-man scramble. Neither drive was very good, and Simon put his second in the water. I put mine in the woods 200 yards short of the green. We arrived at my ball to see it lying in some muddy water, and decided not to take relief because it would have carried us further into the woods. I opted to hit first in hopes of getting the ball somewhere close to the green. I swung my 3-iron and closed my eyes to keep water and mud out. I asked, “Did you see it?”
“Look on the green.”
It was two feet from the hole. The two guys we were paired against almost cried. “What did you say your handicap is?” Easy birdie.
We did the same in better ball, alternate shot, whatever format. For some reason, we simply clicked as a team. My best shots always seemed to counter his worst.
I have yet to find another partner like Simon. I keep hoping Bogey will get some time to get his game in shape so we can partner up. I miss having all those pro shop credits to spend.
Slice sends his regards:
If you want an idea of what we’ve been up to the past week, check out cnn.com and foxnews.com. They are fairly accurate reports.
Here is one of those stories.
…about Abu Ghraib. Of course, he tells it from a military point of view.
I remember the POW camp at Survival School. It was the toughest course I endured in my career. Tired, cold, and hungry. Oriental music blasting all the time (I got nightmares just hearing it for months afterwards). We didn’t get beat, but interrogators had plenty of other tools. We were stripped and searched–extensively. We had coffee can toilets in our dark “cells”, too short to stand in, too small to lie down in.
That’s not the real story, though:
Abu Ghraib is all about an attack on Bush and Howard. The suffering of the poor dears in prison is of no import to the left. Don?t kid yourself that they feel for them. They only care about the damage it can do the US.
Caring lefties. Nobody has yet been able to figure out what they really care about enough to really do something, other than make posters and carry them in protest.
Powered by WordPress