Well, in an update, it appears that Glen Straub succeeded in stealing Revel, for about $84 million. He said it won’t be named, Revel, so I think he should just reverse it and call it leveR. Oops! I meant, Lever, sort of like Serutan. Does anybody really believe that the name Serutan just coincidentally happened to be Natures spelled backwards? But who cares that the name was Natures backwards? Did that render the stuff more effective? They targeted the same type of clueless individuals who voted for Obama.
So now it’s almost a crime to say anything about a Democrat president that the MSM doesn’t agree with. The whole purpose of the First Amendment was to guarantee that we could speak out against a government or its officials, without worrying about retribution. The purpose certainly wasn’t to guarantee Hugh Hefner and Larry Flint the right to publish their filth. That’s something taken from the communist goals, exposed back in 1958 in Cleon Skousen’s book, “The Naked Communist.”
Reading the 45 communist goals provides some insight as to why most women don’t stay home and raise families, why we’re engaged in free trade (mostly one-way) with communist countries, why our nuclear arsenal has been weakened, why we’re promoting all types of perversion, from homosexuality to same-sex marriages to various forms of body mutilation. It explains why we have no religion in schools and why the major news outlets spew progressive BS constantly and run interference like never before seen for a rogue president. It explains why Hollywood and TV has been taken over by liberals, mostly homosexuals, to force their opinions on the rest of us.
I liked the old camp TV, with the Beaver, Ozzie and Harriet, and Andy of Mayberry. Maybe a bit corny, but refreshing, and certainly not offensive. I didn’t have to hear swear words, some on the filthy side, on network TV. My parents never had to worry about what I might see or hear on TV. What a shame that adults no longer are in charge of TV content. Even many of the ads are disgusting, about erectile dysfunction, catheters, and birth control. But by God, don’t advertise tobacco or booze on TV, because then people might start buying and using the stuff! They’ll probably start advertising marijuana soon, though, at least in some states.
I’ve known a lot of people who wouldn’t touch a nasty tobacco cigarette, but have no problem sucking deeply on a joint. Grass is worse for you both physiologically and psychologically. It also smells like what I suspect burning cow dung would smell like.
I had never seen a deer on the island, that is, until today. On our drive back from Cape May, a deer was grazing in the marsh near Cold Spring Harbor. I’m guessing it walked across when the Intracoastal was frozen solid in places. It’s probably stuck here now, and will make an easy target during hunting season.
Hard to believe that Easter Sunday is slightly more than a month away! That week, the laughing gulls, egrets, and ospreys, should be back in town, doing their spring cleaning. Some ospreys like to adorn their nests with evergreens. Some like plastic bags, too. It must be quite a change to fly up here from South America, in some cases. Talk about climate change! No, don’t!
So far, February 22 was the last time we saw Christmas lights turned on at houses, and more than one, I might add, as I just did. Maybe it’s because LEDs cost pennies to keep on, or maybe the occupants are still waiting for Santa.
My wife, who’s mostly Italian, and I, who just likes Italian food, were discussing wrought iron. It’s almost a certainty that homes with wrought iron were occupied by people of Italian descent, even if the present occupants are not Italian. The standard used to be, at houses with porches, that the wooden porch would be replaced by one of brick and concrete and the railings would be replaced by wrought iron, especially with some swirls. Not all Italians considered this necessary, but a couple on our block did. The porches no longer creak, and only the house can burn down.
Of course, this discussion led me to a very old ethnic joke that goes: “How can you tell where a flamingo lives?” ANSWER: “By the wrought iron Italian on the lawn.” Well, it used to be funny. . .