Home: Raspberry meditation

In the soft morning light, I lean into a tangle of raspberry canes, in search of dark red fruit that will add a note of tartness to my breakfast.

The exercise is part meditation, part competition, and I choose morning for both reasons. I find relaxed deliberation and thoughtful choice a therapeutic way to begin my day -- and I beat the birds to berries that have ripened during the cool overnight hours.

We've surmised that one of our home's previous occupants planted the canes intentionally, along with several rose bushes. Years later now, the six-by-eight patch has grown completely wild. We have no wish to tame it.

Satisfied that I've harvested everything I can, I return to the house to wash the fruit and refresh my coffee. I leave behind hundreds of berries to ripen, awaiting future mornings' meditation.

Home: The lay of the land

Home is a sturdy house on a small patch of hilltop land, situated between two old villages typical of Middle America.

Less than two miles to the north, strip malls rise up and stretch to the Interstate five miles away. To the south, modest suburban homes gradually give way to farmland, bisected by another highway three miles distant.

Our western exposure abuts a residential mega-development, mercifully buffered by a large berm and an array of evergreens, honeysuckles and ornamental olives in our back yard. Across the street to the east is a vacant farmhouse and a group of decrepit outbuildings, surrounded by small, odd-shaped fields currently planted in soybeans. Beyond the fields, two hundred yards from our front door, is the tree line of a wood.

Our humble plot is by no means wooded, but the previous owners saw fit to dot it with red pine, blue spruce, yellow poplar, silver maple, early apple and sycamore. While the subsoil is hard clay, it yields reluctantly to vegetable and herb gardening. Water comes not from a remote reservoir, but from a well nestled among several pines.

All of this puts us in a place best described as rural suburbia -- not quite country living, but neither is it life in a pre-fab box on a postage stamp.

It's home.

Commerce, close to home

We've been urged to "Buy American!" for decades now. Our collective dedication to that principle waxes and wanes with the strength of the domestic economy, of course, but most of us still claim to be mindful -- if not always loyal.

And that's fine.

Truth is, it does the U.S. economy more long-term harm than short-term good when we buy inferior, overpriced or unnecessary goods simply because they're made here. Likewise, refusing to buy any product made in a particular country -- for some reason, China comes to mind -- strikes me as both misguided and futile.

As an independent citizen-patriot, sure, "Made in USA" matters to me. These days, however, I'm devoting my commercial attention even closer to home.

There may come a time when my closest neighbors and I will have to rely on each other completely for goods and services. As much as possible, then, I patronize local businesses, ideally independent shops in my township and town. My next preference is a 25-mile radius, followed by a 100-mile range and my state's borders.

Farmers' markets for baked goods, cheeses and produce that haven't crossed a county line, much less an ocean. The old barber shop in the center of the village, not the Mousse Mill in the strip mall. Breakfast at a diner owned by the grandson of the woman who opened it fifty years ago.

If a something needs fixing, I prefer a cramped hardware store to a cavernous home-improvement warehouse. There's a big-chain sporting-goods superstore five miles up the road and an independent gun shop 15 miles away, and if I need ammunition for a trip to the range, I'll choose the latter.

And so on.

Living this philosophy of personal commerce is an exercise in imperfection, and it does require forethought. I'm not inclined to drop the proverbial soap, though -- local shops still have to compete for my business, although generally I'll pay as much as 10% more to stay close to home. Lacking reasonable local options, I do buy some products via the Web.

In the context of global competitiveness, yes, it makes sense to buy American-made products. But when we draw our business even closer -- back home, where it belongs -- we strengthen our nation at its roots.

That's where we, the people, live.

Sticker stock

I'm not big on plastering stickers all over my car, turning it into some sort of rolling billboard. I'm more than capable of speaking for myself.

There is, however, one sticker on the rear window of my daily driver:

ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ

According to Plutarch, "Μολὼν λαβέ" -- or, "Come and take them!" -- was the response of Spartan King Leonidas to Xerxes of Persia at Thermopylae. Xerxes, whose forces greatly outnumbered the Spartans, had offered to spare the lives of Leonidas and his warriors if they laid down their weapons and surrendered.

In military history, "Μολὼν λαβέ" is equivalent to U.S. General Anthony McAuliffe's reply -- "Nuts!" -- to a German commander's invitation to surrender at Bastogne during World War II. And in the face of repeated attacks on American citizens' Constitutional right to keep and bear arms, "Μολὼν λαβέ" has become a latter-day "sign of the fish" (ἰχθύς) among defenders of the Second Amendment.

The significance of the sticker on my car is no secret in our home -- the subject of Second Amendment rights often comes up around the family dinner table -- but I was a bit surprised when our older spawn asked my permission to put an identical sticker on his own car.

I was instantly proud of his desire to express support for our right to keep and bear arms, but it didn't take me long to envision that sticker prompting school authorities to consider him a threat to safety and security -- constitutionally guaranteed free speech is one thing, post-Columbine reality another, and Μολὼν λαβέ could be perceived as a dare, a taunt, a prelude to school violence.

So, with that explanation, I said "no" to our spawn's request. Predictably, he didn't understand my logic, but he accepted my decision and left the room disappointed.

Not wanting to squash completely our spawn's apparent enthusiasm for the principle, I spoke with my wife about proposing an alternative to the Μολὼν λαβέ sticker. She liked the idea, and we summoned him back into the room.

We told him that if he wanted to put a National Rifle Association sticker on his car, he'd have our complete and unequivocal support -- but since only NRA members can rightfully display such an emblem, he'd first have to become a member (dues paid with his own money, of course). His choice.

He joined the NRA online before his head hit the pillow that night.

Now he's doing more than just making a shallow (if sincere) statement with adhesive-backed vinyl -- he's invested, literally, in the defense of our Second Amendment rights. His investment also creates incentives and opportunities for education, giving him a better chance of becoming an informed advocate.

And the world has one less poseur.

Cold, cold water

In an earlier series of posts, I wrote about my family's approach to "bugging" -- by no means gospel, not even a primer, simply a humble and personal description of what we do.

Preparedness accounts for security, survival and defense "when the worst happens." Some call that SHTF, others TEOTWAWKI -- whatever the label, the scenario or the scale, "the worst" involves clear and present threats to our survival.

Preparedness is neither a game nor an obsession -- it's a mindset. It's an attitude that allows us to live our everyday lives, yet be ready to confront and dispatch threats when they present themselves.

On the last page of the June issue of S.W.A.T. magazine is a column by Louis Awerbuck, one of the nation's top instructors in gunhandling, marksmanship and tactics. Entitled "Welcome to the Jungle," it delivers a blunt and sobering perspective on surviving a "doomsday scenario."

The column concludes:

"No, you don't have to be Mad Max, Rambo, or paranoid. But it would be nice, for example, for those of you who have families, if you could make your way back home to protect your spouse and ankle-biters when that never-going-to-happen disaster hits. The first of the loot-shoot-scoot brigade will deploy immediately after a disaster, looking for an easy mark. Those who have nothing to lose will be ready to take, and the sooner they start, the more they can take.

"Traffic will be snarled within 15 minutes and there will be no emergency response units available to solve your little problems -- so you'll have to do it all by your lonesome -- and on foot. And even if you find a desirable route, perhaps you've forgotten about that gun thingummybob I mentioned earlier. One teensy-weensy bullet through your head and I now own your Hummer and everything in it -- including your address. You know -- that place where your widow and kids are waiting. Sorry about that, but survival of the fittest and all that good stuff, don't you know.

"Remember the Los Angeles riots, post-Katrina New Orleans, or New York during the infamous eight-hour Con-Ed blackout? The shooters and looters were at work within the first hour.

"Now decide if you want to be the chef or the entree, because the Hell Restaurant is open for business, and only the man with the carving knife and the full belly is walking out alive."

As raw as Mr. Awerbuck's words may be, don't recoil from them and, whatever you do, don't dismiss them. Let them sink in.

Our society, in the midst of a crisis, operates exactly as he describes. Arguments to the contrary are pure fantasy.

Is he giving us a do-or-die choice? Absolutely -- the stark picture he paints is as accurate as it is disturbing.

It's a bucket of ice water in our faces, leaving us with but one responsible course of action.

Prepare now.

How I spent the first day of my kid's summer vacation

Early yesterday afternoon, the house was quiet. Mrs. KintlaLake was at work, and our spawns had just left to visit their grandparents across town. I was working in my home office.

Then the phone rang, and the circus came to town.

On the other end of the line was one of my wife's co-workers, telling me that Mrs. KintlaLake had just left work and was headed to the metro pediatric hospital. Something about our younger spawn, a bicycle, a wheelie and an ambulance.

Grabbing my wallet and keys, I dashed downstairs toward the garage and called my wife for more details. Best she knew, the spawn's hormone-charged BMX wheelie went past vertical and he hit the pavement hard. He was complaining of back pain. Grandparents, neighbors and our older spawn were keeping him immobile, right where he landed, until the squad arrived.

During my drive to the hospital, my wife called me four times -- not about the child's condition (which she didn't yet know), but twice to tell me about the tricky exit off the highway (she got her left and right mixed up anyway) and twice about valet parking at the ER (she paid for me in advance). When I arrived, I tossed my keys to the valet, ran through the ambulance entrance and into the trauma suite.

Seeing someone strapped to a back board is sobering, never mind a scared kid, more so when the scared kid's life is in my care. We got good news quickly, though, when the ER doctor confirmed that our spawn had movement, strength and sensation in all extremities and judged that the spinal cord likely wasn't involved.

He removed the tape, cervical restraint and straps and pulled out the back board. We all started breathing again.

That wasn't the end of it, of course. X-rays were ordered. Two hours later, we got word that the radiologist wanted a precautionary CT scan. We waited some more.

When I say "we," I'm talking about the patient, the patient's brother, the patient's parents and the patient's maternal grandparents. That's six people in an ER exam room, growing to seven or eight when hospital staff came calling. It reminded me of my own days as an orderly, when an entire Amish family would take up residence with their kin on our ward.

When we got bored with the exam room's tiny TV, we amused ourselves by playing with surgical gloves, which gave way to games with the touchless faucet and towel dispenser.

After a couple of hours of that, about the time we were discussing what we could build out of tongue depressors, a neurosurgery resident came to tell us that the young Wheelie King had, in fact, suffered a L-1 compression fracture. Ouch.

He was released to our care, with orders to be fitted with a corset brace to be worn for the next month or so. If there's any numbness in the extremities (etc.) during that time, it's back to the ER immediately. No sports.

Football tryouts or not, that brace virtually guarantees that he'll get all the girls anyway.

So all six of us walked out of the hospital to our four (count 'em) cars for the trip home. I was the first to approach the parking lot's automatic gate -- which refused to open automatically. Four drivers put four cars into reverse and backed into four parking spaces, and I volunteered to walk back to the hospital to ask the security guard to open the gate manually.

About that time, our older spawn happened to mention that his car was overheating -- it had dumped its coolant onto the ground while we were tending to Wheelie King.

Then the gate went up.

Not knowing how long that'd last, six people piled back into four cars and our little caravan -- including the overheating sedan -- made its escape.

Getting from the hospital to the highway meant navigating neighborhoods in which we'd prefer to spend as little time as possible, but we still needed to find someplace selling coolant for our overheater. That we did, in the form of a corner gas station and mini-mart.

For some reason, like women using a public restroom, we all had to do this together. Four cars, six people.

I ducked into the mini-mart, grabbed a gallon of pre-mix, paid for it, came out and filled the sedan's empty reservoir. Satisfied, I slammed the hood and the caravan was ready to get underway once again.

Sort of.

As we were about to leave, the grandparents were blocked in by a pair of motorcycles and a car. Apparently the motorcyclists had a difference of opinion with the driver, and they proceeded to argue their points over the roof of the grandparents' car. (Incidentally, there was a city police cruiser at the gas pumps, but the officers already had two detainees of their own. No help there.) Somehow, the grandparents managed to inch their way out from under the argument, and the caravan was homeward bound.

For me, the last leg of this odyssey was easy -- I'd volunteered to pick up fast food for the family at a local drive-through. Unlike the rest of the day, this went smoothly and quickly.

Back at home, I dropped the bags on the kitchen counter and flopped into a chair while my wife parceled out the food onto paper plates.

After a minute or so, she spoke. "Honey?"

"Yes?"

"They forgot your cheeseburgers."

We called the older spawn. He picked up my cheeseburgers on his way home from filling his overheating car with four-dollar gas.

And that's what happened yesterday. Today our Wheelie King is resting on the couch, hurting but fine, text-messaging his way to romance and recovery.

(I would've posted this sooner, but a storm knocked out our power for two hours this morning.)

Where do we stand?

During the 2000 presidential campaign, Democratic Party nominee Al Gore made no bones about where he stood on our Constitutional right to keep and bear arms. Both his rhetoric and his record threatened to gut the Second Amendment and disarm law-abiding Americans.

Gun owners needed a rallying cry, and we got it from the late Charlton Heston. Speaking to the National Rifle Association on May 20, 2000, he said this:

"For the next six months, Al Gore is going to smear you as the enemy. He will slander you as gun-toting, knuckle-dragging, bloodthirsty maniacs who stand in the way of a safer America.

"Will you remain silent? I will not remain silent. If we are going to stop this, then it is vital to every law-abiding gun owner in America to register to vote and show up at the polls on election day.

"As we set out this year to defeat the divisive forces that would take freedom away, I want to say those words again for everyone within the sound of my voice to hear and to heed, and especially for you, Mr. Gore: 'From my cold, dead hands!'"

Fortunately, at least on this issue, Mr. Gore was denied the Presidency. And while 1994's Clinton Gun Ban was allowed to sunset ten years later, where do law-abiding gun owners stand today?

Given a choice between the major parties' presumptive nominees, it seems that Sen. Barack Obama represents the greater threat -- but Sen. John McCain is preferable only by default.

Sen. McCain has said that he doesn't own a gun. He hasn't shown himself to be a staunch advocate for Second Amendment rights. And his much-ballyhooed record of "reaching across the aisle" often puts him in league with gun-grabbing legislators.

It may be tempting to favor the Republican candidate, but color me skeptical -- very skeptical.

There are other dynamics to consider. A U.S. President's ability to impose his agenda requires both strong leadership and a sympathetic Congress. In that light, neither candidate is encouraging.

Sen. McCain exerts leadership almost exclusively through collaboration with dissenting interests. Much of Congress already is receptive to some form of gun control. Dangerous compromises would be all but certain.

I predict that Sen. Obama, on the other hand, would lead from the front. As President and de facto leader of his party, he could constitute the final element of a perfect gun-control storm. Against a Pres. Obama and like-minded allies like Sen. Biden (the real engineer of the Clinton Gun Ban), Mr. Gore, Rep. McCarthy, Ms. Brady, the Clintons and assorted Kennedys, our Second Amendment rights could crumble.

With that as a political backdrop, we stand exactly where we stood when Charlton Heston exhorted us eight years ago -- impatient patriots, committed to defending our Constitutional rights, not deferential but defiant.

Μολὼν λαβέ.

On independence

Above all other qualities, I value independence.

As much as human frailty allows, an independent person is self-sufficient. An emotionally independent person may be social but serves himself first and, as a result, is better equipped to serve others. An intellectually independent person craves knowledge from without, but he keeps his own counsel within.

Independence is a manifestation of personal responsibility.

In today's hyper-political climate, however, "independent" has been prostituted beyond recognition. Disillusioned with the two dominant parties, indignant citizens brandish their opposition by declaring themselves "Independents." And the cheapest trick of all is turned by the likes of Lou Dobbs, who urges his viewers to register as independents.

"Registered independent" is as nonsensical as "practicing agnostic."

I'll stipulate to the tendencies of human nature, ill-conceived acts of rebellion and the principles that sustain our political system. But allegiance to a party, affiliation with a movement, or characterizing oneself as "conservative" or "liberal," is antithetical to independence.

It's like volunteering to be simple-minded.

Fundamental to independence is critical thinking. Independent critical thought -- which isn't the same thing as being contrarian -- isn't difficult, but it does demand intent.

With clear intent, we must let go of the party lever along with our desire to be in like-minded company. We need to absorb information without feeling compelled to adopt or reject it. And we must measure everything we absorb -- not against beliefs or values, but against personal experience.

Experience can be neither duplicated nor shared. It's the core of our uniqueness and, therefore, the very wellspring of independence.

Each of us, then, confronts a choice. We can squander our gifts on some mass ideology or political movement -- or we can think critically, act from experience, and express our true independence.

Choose.

Queen of Denial

I've been ruminating all day on what to say about Sen. Hillary Clinton's narcissistic performance last night. I'm not at a loss for words -- there's just so much to work with.

Perhaps it's best if I leave it to CNN's Jack Cafferty.

"Anyone who thought Hillary Clinton would admit defeat and graciously make her exit to begin healing the party wasn’t paying attention last night.

"Barack Obama won the Democratic nomination, not by a delegate or two. The superdelegates poured into his camp all day and all night and made a bold statement. 'He’s our guy.' But when the sun came up this morning, she is still there.

"If Obama wants a hint what it will be like if she is the vice president, last night should give him a pretty good idea. Refusing to concede, she chose instead to try to steal the spotlight from him on one of the most historic nights in our history. Barely acknowledging his accomplishment, she went on in her speech at Baruch College like nothing had changed. It was pathetic.

"Earlier in the day, she let it be known she is interested in the Vice Presidential nomination. Like it’s her option. This puts enormous pressure on him to agree or risk further angering her dwindling supporters. Not that some of them could get any angrier.

"Barack Obama at this moment has a much bigger problem with Hillary Clinton than he does with John McCain. You would think her advisers and supporters would start to be embarrassed by her behavior at some point.

"At a time when our country should be celebrating a quantum leap forward in healing our racial divisions, Hillary Clinton is ruining the party -- a spoiled child who refuses to go when told, 'It’s bedtime.'"

The words "pathetic" and "spoiled child" ring loud and true -- and as far as I'm concerned, that goes double for her wailing, hand-wringing supporters.

'Castle Doctrine' comes to Ohio

In an earlier post, I discussed a law commonly referred to as "Castle Doctrine." Thanks to tireless grassroots activism and a favorable political climate, this fundamental right to armed self-defense soon will be law in Ohio.

S.B.184 has cleared its last legislative hurdle. Gov. Ted Strickland is expected to sign it in the coming weeks. And while the law won't go into effect for three months, here's what Castle Doctrine will mean for all law-abiding citizens of Ohio:

• If someone breaks into a person's occupied home or temporary habitation, or if someone breaks into a person's occupied car, that person has an initial presumption to act in self-defense.
• Victims of crime will be immune from civil actions from their attackers (and their attackers' families) for actions that harm or kill an attacker.

Specific to law-abiding gun owners:

• A citizen won't need to have a Concealed Handgun License (CHL) to carry a concealed handgun lawfully in their own home.
• An "unloaded firearm" will be defined as one with no ammunition in the firearm or in magazines or speedloaders, regardless of where else ammunition is stored.
• The law will allow CHL holders to pick-up and drop-off students in school safety zones.
• Lawful concealed carry will be permitted in state-owned shelters, restrooms and parking garages, and lawful concealed carry in privately owned parking garages will no longer be a crime.
• Landlords will no longer be allowed to prohibit their tenants from owning or carrying firearms.
• CHL holders will be permitted to carry a firearm in an unlocked glove compartment or center console.

(For more information, visit the Buckeye Firearms Association.)

Remember, Castle Doctrine isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card in Ohio, nor does Castle Doctrine apply in every state. It's also important to note that the law almost never permits armed defense of property -- only life. Each of us must know the law and make our choices accordingly. And if we do choose to make armed defense part of protecting self and family, professional training is a must.

That said, however, all Ohioans should celebrate the legalization of armed self-defense. It's about time.

Cannibalism on display

I've said it before, and it's time to say it again:

The Democrats are eating their young.

Watching today's marathon pissing match among members of the DNC's Rules and Bylaws Committee -- with supporters of Sen. Hillary Clinton doing virtually all of the pissing -- has been a real treat.

Puerile tantrums from the likes of Harold Ickes guarantee that it'll take Herculean spin to salvage party unity, even the perception of unity. And no one should be surprised if Sen. Clinton keeps kicking this dead ass all the way to the convention in Denver.

Candor liberated

A soon-to-be-released memoir by former White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan confirms what many of us already know -- that the Bush administration employs a “permanent campaign approach” to paper-over its incompetence.

The book, What Happened: Inside the Bush White House and Washington’s Culture of Deception, chronicles more than just a disengaged President.

"I still like and admire President Bush. But he and his advisers confused the propaganda campaign with the high level of candor and honesty so fundamentally needed to build and then sustain public support during a time of war. In this regard, he was terribly ill-served by his top advisers, especially those involved directly in national security.”

Another excerpt.

"The most powerful leader in the world had called upon me to speak on his behalf and help restore credibility he lost amid the failure to find weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. So I stood at the White house briefing room podium in front of the glare of the klieg lights for the better part of two weeks and publicly exonerated two of the senior-most aides in the White House: Karl Rove and Scooter Libby.

"There was one problem. It was not true.

"I had unknowingly passed along false information. And five of the highest ranking officials in the administration were involved in my doing so: Rove, Libby, the vice President, the President's chief of staff, and the President himself."

McClellan knows that incompetence and propaganda cannot flourish unless given permission to do so, and he acknowledges the absence of scrutiny.

"If anything, the national press corps was probably too deferential to the White House and to the administration in regard to the most important decision facing the nation during my years in Washington, the choice over whether to go to war in Iraq.
“The collapse of the administration’s rationales for war, which became apparent months after our invasion, should never have come as such a surprise. In this case, the ‘liberal media’ didn't live up to its reputation. If it had, the country would have been better served.”

Is McClellan's book a scathing indictment of the Bush administration? Absolutely. Does it paint an embarrassing picture of the news media? Sure.

If that's all we see, however, we miss the point. This chain of evidence leads past the President and his cronies, past the press, and lands in a pile at our feet.

The empty suit that occupies the Oval Office wasn't self-appointed -- he was elected (and re-elected).

His propaganda campaigns? They've worked. His policies, along with hundreds of billions in funding, have been rubber-stamped by legislators that we don't hold accountable.

And as long as the media serves us a steady diet of Britney Spears and Anna Nicole Smith, we don't much care what else they do.

We truly do get the government we deserve.

This weekend, remember

There's a reason we have three days off at the end of May -- and it has nothing to do with water parks, barbecues and auto racing.

I urge every American to take the first minute of every day this weekend to remember our fallen warriors. Fly the flag. Visit a veterans cemetery. Attend a ceremony at the local VFW post.

Remember.

They gave their last full measure of devotion to preserve our freedoms. Acknowledging their sacrifice is the least we can do.

From the writings of John Adams

"Posterity! You will never know, how much it cost the present Generation, to preserve your freedom! I hope you will make a good Use of it. If you do not, I shall repent in Heaven, that I ever took half the Pains to preserve it."

(in a letter to Abigail Adams, April 26, 1777)

Paying for a pulse

For the last few months, some Georgia high-school students have earned eight dollars an hour to attend study sessions.

Handing teenagers cash for actual academic achievement would be disturbing enough -- but these leeches-in-training were rewarded for the simple act of showing up.

I can't think of a better way to cultivate a ravenous appetite for government entitlements, at the expense of encouraging the ethics of hard work and accomplishment.

Don't blame the kids. The real oxygen thieves here are the sponsors and supporters of this idiotic program, along with the community that allowed it to poison further our nation's future.

Local government at work

In Central Ohio today, there was a reported eight-minute delay between the National Weather Service issuing a tornado warning and the sounding of the first tornado sirens, which are activated by the Franklin County Emergency Management Agency.

Why?

According to the agency's deputy director, the EMA emergency-communications center isn't staffed weekends and holidays.

Wait -- there's more.

He further explained that, "The unfortunate thing was normally we have a tornado watch, which gives us a little bit of time to know that something might pop up. Unfortunately, this time there was nothing before the warning..."

Yet another reason not to rely on our bureaucrats and elected officials.

Hoosiers & Tar Heels

Two days ago, skeptical about voters' ability to see through Sen. Hillary Clinton's pandering, I made a pessimistic prediction:

"(Sen. Clinton will) likely win Indiana and she'll make it close in North Carolina."

I'm glad to say that yesterday's results proved quite the opposite -- Sen. Barack Obama trounced Sen. Clinton 56%-42% in North Carolina and lost the Indiana primary by just two points.

I'm seldom encouraged by our sheepish electorate, but today I am.

Because Sen. Obama is addicted to entitlements and has a record of undermining American citizens' Second Amendment rights, he won't get my vote in November. But for the sake of our country and the upcoming conversation about its future, I believe it's in our national interest that he wins the Democratic Party nomination.

Lou Dobbs: Populist or parody?

Watching "Lou Dobbs Tonight" is a daily ritual for me. I like Lou Dobbs.

Check that -- I want to like Lou Dobbs.

I respect his record of independent thought, and I happen to agree with his fundamental positions on illegal immigration and other issues.

Problem is, Lou is becoming more parodical every day, as if he's bucking for a prime-time slot on Cartoon Network. The more seriously he takes himself, the less seriously I can take what he says.

"I don't have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad. It's a depression. Everybody's out of work or scared of losing their job. The dollar buys a nickel's work, banks are going bust, shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter. Punks are running wild in the street and there's nobody anywhere who seems to know what to do, and there's no end to it. We know the air is unfit to breathe and our food is unfit to eat, and we sit watching our TVs while some local newscaster tells us that today we had fifteen homicides and sixty-three violent crimes, as if that's the way it's supposed to be.

"We know things are bad -- worse than bad. They're crazy. It's like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don't go out anymore. We sit in the house, and slowly the world we are living in is getting smaller, and all we say is, 'Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms. Let me have my toaster and my TV and my steel-belted radials and I won't say anything. Just leave us alone.'

"Well, I'm not gonna leave you alone. I want you to get mad! I don't want you to protest. I don't want you to riot -- I don't want you to write to your congressman because I wouldn't know what to tell you to write. I don't know what to do about the depression and the inflation and the Russians and the crime in the street. All I know is that first you've got to get mad!"

No, Lou Dobbs didn't say that -- it was Howard Beale, "Mad Prophet of the Airwaves," in the eerily prescient 1976 movie Network.

These days, though, Lou Dobbs is sounding a lot like Howard Beale. He proclaims himself a populist for populism's sake, regularly citing Sen. Hillary Clinton -- of all people -- as a prime example. He summons righteous anger because his formula calls for anger -- and, of course, he must use the word "unconscionable" at least three times during his allotted hour.

Along with the host, every segment, guest and "poll" tilts madly toward the formula. Lou doesn't purport to offer a pure news program, mind you, but what he's doing isn't commentary, either. It's not advocacy. It sure isn't populism and, sadly, its independence is strained.

It is, in a word, thin and getting thinner. It's disappointing to see such a capable independent citizen-patriot become a caricature of his former self.

Fools' Holiday

When Democrats cast their ballots in tomorrow's Indiana and North Carolina primaries, many will be voting on Republican Sen. John McCain's "gas-tax holiday" proposal -- either aye (for Sen. Hillary Clinton) or nay (for Sen. Barack Obama).

Sure, Sen. Clinton tweaked Sen. McCain's original plan by making those "big oil companies" pick up the tab. Either way, however, the "gas-tax holiday" proposal is pure, unfiltered, Grade A crap.

First, such a plan has no shot at being enacted before the summer travel season. Second, if it were, oil companies surely would shift higher costs onto the consumer. And third, each motorist's three-month savings would amount to little more than a financial crumb -- about two hand-tossed pizzas (delivered) and a case of beer.

It's meaningless gimmickry, and countless financial analysts have said as much. Hell, anyone with a working calculator can figure that out.

Because most voters are easily fooled, of course, the proposed shell game is actually working for Sen. Clinton. She'll likely win Indiana and she'll make it close in North Carolina.

Maybe pandering shouldn't move voters, but it does. Maybe voters should be smarter, but we aren't. And maybe we don't like foolery in our politics, but as long as we keep voting for it, that's what we're going to get.

Pierce's perspective

"After the White House, what is there to do but drink?"

(Franklin Pierce, 14th President of the United States, the only elected president who wasn't nominated by his party for a second term)