Jesse Helms Vilified by Granma–among many, MANY others.

The enlightened world’s tantrum against Jesse Helms is a showpiece of hypocrisy and ingratitude. Imitation, as we all know, is the sincerest form of flattery. Well, Senator Helms by co-authoring the infamous Helms-Burton law in 1996– the one that ignited an “international furore” according to the UK Guardian– merely sought to imitate the British Parliament, the United Nations, the European Union, the Congressional Black Caucus, the NAACP, Charles Rangel, Jesse Jackson, The World Council of Churches, the Council on Foreign Relations, The New York Times, The Washington Post, the London Times, etc, etc. etc.

With this act, Senator Helms and his Republican colleague Dan Burton of Indiana, merely sought to apply the measures all the enlightened parties and persons mentioned above urged against an authoritarian regime (segregationist South Africa) to a totalitarian regime (Stalinist Cuba), by applying similar economic sanctions.

He has never been forgiven for so dramatically (if unwittingly) showcasing their hypocrisy.

Read the rest at Townhall here:

Even Conservatives fell for Castro/Craig Ruse

Amongst those who fell prey to Castroite chicanery via Gregory Craig were Tony Snow and Mark Steyn, amazingly enough. The latter sneering at that “crazy Miami crowd,” a “lawless Hispanic mob trashing Miami.” Elian’s doting cousin, Marisleysis “may have the cutest butt on network TV,” wrote Steyn, “but most of us dearly wish some FBI sharpshooter would fire a tranquilizer dart into it.”

These commentators, however bright and articulate in most matters, are innocent of life under Stalinism and without the benefit of the revelations that come from frequent contact with those cursed by fate to have suffered such. So we shouldn’t judge them too harshly.

If Steyn’s current predicament in Canadian courts saw him deprived of defense counsel and menaced by decades in torture chambers or death by firing squad he’d have a much better appreciation of that “crazy Miami crowd’s” motivation, I can assure you.

Rest of WND article here

All Hail Louisiana’s “crackpots, hard-liners and recalcitrants (on Energy)

Louisiana takes many hits as “the northernmost banana republic.” Yuppies and Greenies constitute a rare, exotic and even comical species down here – to the immense benefit of America’s energy needs. “Progressive” and “enlightened” are NOT terms Obama’s Bay Area supporters would use to describe the Bayou state’s decision-makers – especially those who made major decisions half a century ago.

Yet these rustics and yahoos spurred more revolutionary “change” in the production of (genuine) energy than any Obama supporter could imagine with all his or her hallucinations about solar panels and windmills.

Amazingly even HOLLYWOOD!, once recognized this!

So all hail Louisiana’s “crackpots, blockheads, hard-liners and recalcitrants” (on energy.)

Drill Offshore–For a Seafood Bonanza – UPDATED

Ok, my Floridian friends. Time to get on Martinez’, Diaz-Balart’s, Ros-Lehtinen’s and Christ’s cases for missing the boat on Offshore Oil Drilling. Get them to change their (no) votes, then you too, might enjoy a cheaper tab for these on the grill..

UPDATE (Henry):

You have to look at the above video and judge the “ecological catastrophe” that is offshore oil drilling yourself. I don’t know what would would happen if we introduce so much habitat to the Florida coast.

Chavez Surrenders on Snitch Law

Snitching is essential to totalitarian regimes. Both Stalin’s and Castro’s Gulags were filled primarily by acting on tips from snitches. This snitching has a snowball effect. The very fact that you’re snitching gives some people a (usually false) sense of protection from regime police because they’re assisting them. Then as more and more people get rounded up, more and more people feel threatened, so more and more of them snitch–more fear, more arrests; neighbor snitches against neighbor, cousin against cousin, even sons and daughters against parents.

Recall the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers. “Is he a pod, too?…Can we trust him?..should we hush-up? Run? Hide?!” Some say the 1956 movie was an allegorical treatment of a Communist takeover. Please excuse the apparent flippancy, but this writer is not the only eye-witness to such a takeover who has noted the chilling parallels with the movie.

With a little imagination almost everyone can visualize the Communist snitch-and-survive or snitch-and-reward process. At work, we’ve all seen that insufferable brownnoser who hopes to mitigate or camouflage his incompetence or laziness by sucking up to the boss. We’ve all seen that gossipy little backstabber, that sniveling little a** kisser, that busybody shrew get promoted over their betters. Somehow after every flush of “downsizing” many of these Eddie Haskells and Mrs Kravitzes keep bobbing back to the surface.

To some extent this is human/corporate nature. All organizations favor “team players.” In the private sector these kinks are eventually straightened and the brownnosing incompetents axed. Either that, or the company goes under. There are stockholders and customers to keep happy.

But under Communism this swinishness is the very essence of the system. There is only a Maximum Leader to keep happy.

Entire article here.

Before they were called, “The Greatest Generation”

That little vial of brownish sand marked “Omaha Beach, 6/6/44” in our den was a gift from my dearly-departed father-in-law, and never fails to kindle memories.

When Cuban refugees by the thousands landed amidst “gun and religion-clinging people” with ingrained “antipathy to people who aren’t like them” the potential for trouble was enormous. When young southern Americans just starting the travails (and joys)of careers and families suddenly found masses of excitable foreign-tongued, octopus-eating strangers applying for jobs besides them, working besides them, worshiping besides them, moving in next door–the potential for trouble was enormous.

In our case especially. In 1961 we landed in New Orleans, deepest darkest Dixie, Red America with a vengeance. Worse, the city then hosted a huge NASA project, attracting blue collar workers from surrounding states, Texas, Alabama, Mississippi. Here’s backwoods states synonymous with hate and murderous bigotry–and here’s the social class most prone to it.

After all, Peter Fonda says Easy Rider was gunned down here. Oliver Stone says JFK’s murder was hatched here. Obama’s campaign staff, no doubt, contemplates the place with a shudder. Showcasing it’s villainy is a long-time fetish of Hollywood screenwriters and casters. We’d be lucky to get a welcome with mere tar and feathers. Firebombs and nooses were more likely.

My father was one of Castro’s tens of thousands of political prisoners at the time, listening to the gallant Che’s firing squads every dawn, wondering when his turn would come. My mother wondered too, but she didn’t much time to indulge in things like despair. She was alone in a strange country, penniless and friendless, with three kids to somehow feed, shelter and school. Two nephews and a brother were also under a death sentence after fighting to the last bullet at the Bay of Pigs. (Actually, we had it relatively easy. Most Cuban refugee families can relate stuff ten times as hair-raising and heartbreaking.)

But a knock on the door in those early days and a burly stranger visible through the window wasn’t exactly comforting. We hadn’t been living in the humble apartment complex for long when it came. We peeked through the window…..”AHHH!! Is that a WHITE HOOD?!!

No, it’s Mrs Jeffrey from next door with her bleached blond bouffant.

“And what’s he carrying?… AAAHHH!! Is that a shotgun?! A rope?! A bomb?!”

No. It’s a basket of fried chicken. And that’s Mr. Jeffrey behind her. He’s coming to offer help translating that job application.

The Jeffreys were originally from Texas. To Obama’s campaign staff the place probably denotes religious nuts in Waco and sadistic yahoos dragging people to their death behind pick-up trucks. To us it’s Mrs. Jeffrey with her big basket of food, and more importantly, with her big Texas smile. A few days later she’d take my mother shopping with her. Next day she’d console her during another sob-fest.

Mr. Jeffrey was a WWII vet and knew some Spanish. I’ll never forget him sitting next to my mother, swerving from fiery rage to silent sympathy while apologizing to her in a heavy Texas twang for JFK’s Bay of Pigs backstab– as if it was his doing, as if he hadn’t done enough for others’ freedom already!

But as Mr. Jeffrey saw it, that was HIS flag on those ships off the Cuban coast. And HIS President who gave them the order to scram as Cuban patriots fought to the last bullet. Mr. Jeffrey had seen his flag go up over Manila. Dozens of his buddies who helped carry it fell along the way. He saw what that fluttering canvas meant to the delirious crowds who screamed and wept and cheered, knowing that freedom was at hand. The thought of it ordered to betray a freedom-fight enraged and sickened him.

Next day, another knock..”AAHH!!. Something’s on FIRE outside! Is that a burning CROSS?!

No it’s Mr Simpson’s Bar-B-cue. He always liked a BIG fire. (Remember Eddie Murphy’s early skit about his uncle Gus Bar-B-Cueing? “Now THAT’S a FIRE!”)

That always reminded me of our upstairs neighbor Mr Simpson’s fire. It’s Mrs Simpson at the door, asking us over—in that hilarious (to us) Southern drawl–to share in that mountain of chicken and burgers they’re scorching. The Simpson’s hailed from Birmingham. To Obama campaign staffers, no doubt, that’s exclusively the land of Bull Connor and fire hoses and nothing more. Next day Mrs Simpson knocks again, to offer us terrified children another ride to that strange school where nobody understands us (“bilingual education” my a**! We learned English in two months precisely because it didn’t exist). Mrs Simpson was also holding a shopping bag.

What’s in that bag? Well, Mom’s tearing up again, but these tears look different….ah, some clothes outgrown by the Simpson children, for us. (No way Mami! I ain’t wearing that!) And looks like a new blouse for her.

Next day and here comes Mrs. Boudreaux from across the street. She’s a local, from the land of – shriek and shudder! – David Duke, to Obama staffers. To us she was a perpetually cheerful woman with fuzzy slippers and a HUGE-bottom (Cubans always notice this) who’s bringing a big pot of Gumbo and a phone number of a friend who might have a job for Mom.

They came almost every day. And this was in the very gizzard of the “bigoted” and “hate-filled” South. When you’ve just fled a Stalinist hell with the clothes on your back, when you find yourself in a strange land, penniless and not knowing the language, when nights are a sleepless, mind-churning marathon of worries: “did uncle Pepe fall to the firing squad this dawn? Is cousin Manolo still in hiding? Where’s the next meal coming from? – how on earth will we pay for the kids schooling?” with all this going on, that stuff helps, believe me. (I speak here for my parent’s generation –Cuba’s Greatest–. I was seven years old. Seemed like a Disney adventure to me.)

Later in the suburbs another family became even more special. Years before, the lady had worked at a local plant riveting the hulls on the famous Higgins boats, originally designed in New Orleans for oil exploration in the shallow coastal marshes, then modified for work on such as Omaha Beach and Iwo Jima.

“The boats that won WWII,” according to Ike. One such boat carried her fiancé to shore at Casablanca, another at Salerno, another at Omaha Beach, where a burst from a German machine gun riddled his legs.

Almost 40 years later I watched him limping up the aisle, grimacing slightly with each step. Then he broke into a huge smile– while handing me his daughter as a bride.

More Global Warming Hogwash!

“Bears are Inuit (Eskimo) food,” says Canadian Inuit Jayko Alooloo in an interview with Canada’s CTV, “like cows for you southern people.”
Alooloo also regards the newly-designated status of polar bears as “endangered” as a complete crock.
“They’re actually increasing every year.” he says. But what does he know? He only lives amongst them? Whereas, from his Washington D.C. Office, U.S. Interior Secretary Dirk Kempthorne relied on computer weather model to predict that in 50 years, due to Global Warming’s effect on arctic ice fields, polar bears will decrease in numbers. My own weatherman’s computer model’s rarely get it right for the next four days. Kempthorne’s nails it for the next fifty years!
The rest here from Townhall

El Sandwich Cubano

No Marta, I’m not trespassing on your turf here, amiga. I’m not crazy! This is short week-end chuckle for Spanish readers.
Un estudiante americano de visita en la Habana compró, en la tienda para turistas, un sándwich cubano especial de lujo: Un pedazo de pan francés de casi un pie de largo con lascas de lechón asado, jamón serrano y york, queso suizo, mantequilla, pasta sazonada, pepinillo y rojas y grandes rodajas de tomate

Con su sándwich y una Cola en mano, se fue a comer cerca de las azules aguas frente al Meliá Cohíba, donde se hospedaba. Apenas había comenzado a comer su apetitoso ‘lunch’ cuando ve a un jóven cubano que pasaba por el lugar.
El cubano llevaba también un sandwich, el llamado ‘pan con timba’ hecho con un pedazo de pan, chiquito, con dulce de guayaba, comprado en un timbiriche de la calle Paseo.
El jóven cubano saboreaba lentamente su pan con timba para que le durara.
El americanito le dice :
‘Sabes, nosotros en Estados Unidos estamos maravillados de la agilidad mental de ustedes los cubanos. Todos saben jugar ajedrez, se conocen las reglas del baseball y de otros deportes, tienen una gran memoria y conocimiento sobre los principales eventos históricos, casi todos hablan dos o más idiomas y saben un mundo de geografía y política internacional. Resultan increíbles en sus avances en las ciencias, inventan vacunas sintéticas. ¿Cuál es el secreto?’
El jóven cubano, mirando el sándwich le dice:
‘… Bueno, le voy a confesar nuestro secreto, pero que quede entre nosotros. ¿Ve este pedazo de pan que tengo aquí? Dentro tiene dulce de guayaba, de una variedad endémica de guayaba que solo crece en Cuba. Es elaborado con azúcar prieta de Cuba. Hace muchos años los científicos soviéticos descubrieron que la caña que se cosecha en Cuba tiene unas moléculas con protons radiactivos que pasan por ósmosis al azúcar prieta, los cuales al combinarse con una sustancia activa intrínseca de loscomponentes de isotrones de la guayaba que una vez que llegan al cerebro a través de la microcirculación sanguínea producen un efecto súper energizante y estimulan las células cerebrales de la sustancia gris, en especial en las secciones de actividad mental y memoria inmediata, con los resultados fabulosos que mencionaste. Ese es nuestro secreto.’
El americano, con mucho interés, le pidió probar un pedazo del dulce. El cubano le dijo:
‘Bueno. como muestra de solidaridad y amistad por haber venido a Cuba, rompiendo las férreas restricciones del bloqueo, voy a hacer algo mejor por ti:
Te cambio el pan con guayaba y dulce de caña por ese ‘sándwich’ que te estás comiendo el cual, dicho sea de paso, está lleno de sólidos grasos de origen animal, colesterol y triglicéridos, que endurecen las arterias y son las causa fundamentales del infarto del miocardio, causa primaria de muerte en la población de los Estados Unidos’.
Con un gesto precipitado el gringo le extendió su sándwich al criollo, quien enseguida se lo intercambió por su pan con dulce.
El cubano le entró al sándwich de tal forma que en tres bocados había llegado a la mitad del mismo. Por su parte el americano se iba comiendo lentamente el pan con timba, porque la verdad que estaba un poco duro y el dulce algo rancio.
Al cabo de unos minutos dice el americanito:
‘Tengo la impresión de que saliste ganando con este intercambio’.
A lo que el cubano le contestó:
‘¡¡¡ COÑOOOO – BÁRBARO, CHICO !!! …Ves ? … ¡Ya te están haciendo efecto en el cerebro LOS PROTONES de las molécula de la caña de azúcar y los ISOTRONES de la guayaba. ¿ No te lo dije ?…Sigue, sigue masticando.’

So Who Really “Panders” to Cuban American Voters?

The mainstream media is all atwitter with Obama’s recent speech in Miami. Florida holds 27 coveted electoral votes and is habitually described as “pivotal” election-wise. The most scintillating aspect of the visit for the media was the Democratic candidate’s hosting by the once influential Cuban-American-National-Foundation (KC and the Sunshine Band once influenced music too).
To salivating Democrats and their media cronies this hosting means Obama is poised to pilfer a hefty chunk of traditionally Republican Cuban-American voters in this key state. If so, it may come at the expense of votes from the Democrats’ equally traditionally faithful “Hispanics.”
After all his pandering to the marginal Cuban-Americans voters who hosted him last week it will be interesting to see how the Obama campaign camel will thread the Hispanic vote needle.
On the one hand, if Obama has his way, Cubans will be equal to all other “Hispanic” immigrants and residents in the U.S. by being bestowed the identical travel and remittance provisions to their homelands.
On the other hand, if Obama has his way, Cubans will be much more equal than other “Hispanics” by also retaining their traditional fast-track to citizenship historically bestowed upon blue-eyed Czech and East Germans who breached the Iron Curtain, but generally denied to filthy wetbacks and other greasers who slither in from dysfunctional nations to the south.
No “racist Republican” while “pandering” to Cuban-Americans has ever proposed anything so patently unfair and offensive as Obama’s proposal.
Read the rest regarding–yes!– remittances here.