Get real, Phyllis: the fire is in your own back yard

Racism is an insidious sickness.

 

Still rearing its ugly head throughout our society in subtle ways.

 

White  people still use the N word when they think it's safe in their own circle of like-minded bigots.

 

American citizens are denied housing, jobs, and business opportunities because of some prehistoric decision-maker filled with prejudice.

 

We have laws against that sort of thing and thankfully we have courts that will enforce them.

 

Here's my problem.

 

When racially neutral behavior is punished, we dissipate the importance of destroying true racism.

 

Last week, Cleveland City Councilwoman Phyllis Cleveland raised a big stink over billboards placed in  cities throughout Michigan, Wisconsin, and Ohio.

 

She railed against  billboards that said the following words.

 

 Voter fraud is a felony with up to 3 ½ years and  $10,000 fine.

 

The  exact words on the billboard: Voter fraud is a felony with  up to 3 ½ years and  $10,000 fine.

 

 

Every  word on that billboard is  true.

 

According to critics, however, it was designed to suppress voter turnout in minority communities.

 

I have a degree in English literature and I can tell you that the only people discouraged from voting by that advertisement are in fact a minority: a very small minority.

 

Fraudulent voters.

 

Unless  you plan to vote twice or  on behalf of those who populate our cemeteries, this billboard is not meant for you.

 

It is a great insult to the minority community to presume that deterring election fraud is synonymous with suppression of the black vote.

 

It presumes that African-Americans are more likely to commit electoral crimes and thus less likely to show up on November 6 if they see this outdoor ad in their neighborhood.

 

Perhaps what is most offensive is that this attitude presumes  minorities don't understand the difference between the legal exercise of your franchise and attempts to fix an election.

 

Councilwoman Cleveland, your constituents are smarter than that.

 

They know the difference between right and wrong.

 

The only people staying home on election day because of the sign are those  intending to skirt the law.

 

Amazingly, Clear Channel Advertising agreed to remove  these billboards throughout the Midwest because of the uproar  from Councilwoman Cleveland.

 

I'm stunned by all of this.

 

Here are examples of real racism.

 

Allowing abortions to destroy more African American infants in the womb than any other racial group.

 

Creating a culture of welfare recipiency that condemns entire generations of families to government dependency, robbing them of a sense of self achievement.

 

Repeating decades of failed policies in the public schools that reward teachers unions in the face of children denied the skills they need to make it in this world.

 

That's what I call real racism.

 

Councilwoman Cleveland,  do something about  real racism.

 

Leave the billboards alone.

 

Stop bullying those who merely want to eliminate voter fraud.

 

Start demanding accountability from politicians whose political success depends on the continuing  decay of the  smoldering remains of the inner-city.

 

Let's see that on a billboard.

 

Have a nice day.

 

 

Crooked Dealer Fixing game with marked cards

During the  1940's, Olympic track star turned Navy bombardier Louis Zamperini was recognized for his remarkable bravery.

 

He faced unspeakable torture at the hands of his Japanese captors.

 

This inspiring hero experienced  starvation, medical experimentation, and bludgeoning with clubs.

 

After two years, the commandant of the internment camp  discovered that Zamperini had  world running records to his credit.

 

The prison director seized  upon this  for a little propaganda. 

 

Various runners from the land of the setting sun were brought in to compete against POW Zamperini.

 

The Emperor wanted to show   Japanese superiority.

 

These Japanese wannabe's defeated the Olympian on a regular basis.

 

Here's why.  

 

Zamperini had been the target of such unbelievable atrocities that his body was decimated.

 

Zamperini was  ravaged by corporal cruelties.

 

Barely  able to walk.

 

In other words, these races weren't set up to be  fair.

 

Which brings us to the Commission on Presidential Debates' adoption of strict rules to make things fair.

 

The complicated rulebook has 3 main elements.

 

One. Equal time.

 

Two. Equal treatment by moderator.

 

Three.  Zero audience participation.

 

One and two are obvious:   unequal time would be like giving one team an extra out per inning.

 

Equal treatment by the moderator avoids bias.

 

The last rule requiring audience non-participation is a written condition of admission to the auditorium.

 

No applauding, no cheering, no booing.

 

Have these recent debates been conducted fairly?

 

Let's review our three rules.

 

Equal time:  The  VP and two presidential debates gave more time to the democrat in each of the 3 debates.

 

All three forums together total almost 9 minutes more for  the democrat than the republican.

 

Let's talk about Moderator neutrality:  did you see the Hofstra University debacle?

 

The Moderator, Candy Crowley, of CNN fame, injected her own fact-checking into the broadcast spontaneously.

 

 

Crowley told Romney he was wrong about Obama's September 12 statement on Benghazi.

 

 

Transcripts of the President's Benghazi remarks show Romney had a point.

 

However, even if you buy Crowley's  interpretation, the moderator is not allowed to take sides.

 

But CNN'S Crowley wasn't done yet.

 

She interrupted Romney 28 times last Tuesday.

 

Obama interruptions? Nine.

 

Rule Three:  The live audience must be a non-factor, maintaining silence.

 

Except last Tuesday.

 

A patch of audience erupted into applause when Crowley corrected Romney.

 

Romney was checkmated.

 

Not by the President.

 

By the moderator and audience: They couldn't keep their promise to abide by the rules.

 

By the way, that patch of audience applauding was led by an over exuberant young lady who practically clapped her hands off  for Obama.

 

Rules are for losers anyway, aren't they?

 

That excited clapper was Michelle Obama, Row S, Seat 6.

 

If you doubt me, watch a video of the debate on the internet.

 

There she is, pretty in pink.

 

Love that smile.

 

Like I said, rules are for losers.

 

Louis Zamperini  knew this: in a fair game, he beats anybody.

 

Maybe that's also true for Obama.

 

We'll never know.

 

We can't get a fair game

 

The rain that stains stays mainly in my brain

Mark Twain said that politicians are like  diapers: both should be changed frequently and usually for the same reason.

 

It reminds me of something from  my files marked "My Years as Mayor".

 

The City of Euclid has an unusual wastewater treatment system.

 

All the toilets in Euclid and a few surrounding communities flow to the wastewater treatment site located just north of the Lakeshore and Babbitt intersection.

 

The contents of your commode end up at this plant where  fecal matter and other impurities are removed.

 

These solids removed from the sanitary flow are mixed together to form something called sludge.

 

Here's the unusual part that most people don't know.

 

The sludge is  then piped a long way underground to what constitutes the diagonal opposite end of the city.

 

This disgusting material  takes a subterranean route from Lakeshore Boulevard to the south marginal sludge plant where this substance is dried out to a cake-like material so  it can be disposed of properly.

 

A few years ago when I served as Euclid's political leader, something amazing happened.

 

The underground tubes carrying the sludge broke open underneath a major intersection with explosive force.

 

Poop pudding shot up into the air.

 

It was a huge version of  the milk chocolate fountain  you see at a desert table at a wedding reception.

 

Gross.

 

You would not want to dip a strawberry into this gunk.

 

Fortunately, no automobiles or pedestrians were in the intersection when the pavement blasted open.

 

No   accidents even though the viscosity of this crap (literally)  made for a slippery slimy surface in the immediate vicinity of the burst.

 

An emergency contractor was summoned  and the situation was corrected within a couple of days.

 

For some reason, the media virtually ignored this incident.

 

To me, it was incredible because such a large volume of foul-smelling excrement paste rocketed up into the air and oozed about in   one of our neighborhoods.

 

One would've expected at least a story on the 11 o'clock news or the morning paper.

 

I remember anticipating the critical headlines.

 

Why didn't the city inspect the sludge lines sufficiently to avert such a problem?

 

I envisioned local broadcasters making jokes about politicians with diarrhea.

 

However, because of quick action and the dumb luck of media just not finding out, the potentially  negative public relations problem never materialized.

 

So, citizens, as you drive through the city of Euclid, and you feel some kind of rumbling, remember this.

 

It could be your stomach.

 

Or it could be the thunderous  underground transport of something you never want to see.

 

So look at what goes swirling round and round and down that porcelain  bowl.

 

And think about what happened one day  a few years ago.

 

A smelly brown came raining down.

 

Have a nice day.

Emperor's clothes reveal Obama's ordinary nature

One of the favorite stories I was exposed to when I was a kid was the story of the Emperor's new clothes.

 

The Emperor hires a fancy designer who strips the kingdom's leader naked, indicating that he has placed a remarkable new outfit on his Royal Highness.

 

It is explained that only those with the most discriminating taste can actually see these beautiful new threads.

 

The egotistical Emperor is surrounded by  subjects sucking up to the King.

 

He marches through town, Lady Godiva style , basking in the cheers from the devoted throng.

 

A little boy standing along the parade route loudly declares his assessment of what he sees.

 

"The king is naked, mommy! The king is naked!"

 

One can only imagine the face of the King when he realizes that everyone is learning the truth.

 

The King is in fact naked.

 

This scene was repeated at the University of Denver last Wednesday evening.

 

Mitt Romney had the unmitigated gall to strip away the myth of Barack Obama's infallibility.

 

In front of an international audience of 70 million.

 

The President of the United States had the uncomfortable look I usually get when those first hints of diarrhea make themselves known and I am a long way from the nearest bathroom facility.

 

It's that "UH-OH" moment.

 

The previously impenetrable fortress of invincibility constructed by the mainstream media was surrounded by a moat filled with alligators named Planned Parenthood, the National Education Association, and the Gay Lesbian Transgender Association.

 

I hate to comingle my children's stories, but I can't resist a Humpty Dumpty reference.

 

The president was up there on stage without anyone to help him.

 

Neither Chris Matthews, Rachel Maddow, nor David Axelrod were permitted to step forward to lend assistance.

 

Barack Obama's image as an intellectually superior master of complex issues gave way to reveal something people said about him when he originally announced that he would run for president four years ago: he just wasn't ready.

 

And all the king's horses and all the king's men just couldn't put Humpty together again.

 

Prior to the debate, polling data showed Obama with momentum, especially in battleground states such as Ohio.

 

The truth is that the debate wasn't really a blowout for the Republican challenger.

 

However, the exchange in Denver was remarkable because it stripped away the carefully crafted mystique that has protected Obama over the last several years.

 

Many citizens have been in a trance.

 

They have viewed Obama as the Second Coming, to be treated  with great reverence  befitting one whose inspirational rhetoric transcends politics.

 

Last Wednesday, the spell was broken and people began to see Obama as just another politician stumbling his way through.

 

Let's complete the children's story trifecta.

 

Obama's strategists have been telling us not to look behind that curtain at the Wizard's Castle.

 

Thursday night, it wasn't Professor Marvel we observed clumsily maneuvering all the smoke and mirrors with levers and pulleys.

 

It was Barack Obama.

 

Game on.

 

 

Cleveland United Way spits on Irving Berlin's Merit Badge

In 1893,  a frail Jewish boy landed at Ellis Island.

 

He recognized that the new land was without the brutal Russian pogroms that  threatened the life of his family in the old country.

 

The new country was one of free expression and religious liberty.

 

That little boy became Irving Berlin, arguably the greatest composer of American song.

 

Just watch the film "White Christmas"  if you disagree.

 

Fast forward to Monday last week, when the United Way  of Greater Cleveland announced it would discontinue support for the Boy Scouts.

 

The  United Way has trouble with the Scouts' stated policy prohibiting openly gay  Scout leaders and members.

 

Let's clarify something. The Scouts don't ban gays from joining.

 

Most members are age 12 or younger.

 

The Scouts say that what individuals do privately is none of their business and leaders can freely live their chosen lifestyle at home.

 

It's the equivalent of the "Don't ask don't tell" policy adopted by the United States military until Barack the Brilliant discovered the importance of the homosexual vote.

 

The real intolerance here is maintained by  United Way because they are unwilling to tolerate the idea that some organizations actually live by a  moral code.

 

The Boy Scouts of America  have the temerity to believe that the gay lifestyle should not be injected into scouting life.

 

Forget the fact that an objective statistical analysis shows that gay men are much more likely to be infected with diseases such as AIDS.

 

In America, organizations such as the Boy Scouts have a protected right to espouse moral positions like this even if we don't agree with them.  

 

The United States Supreme court recently ruled in favor of the  Scouts on this question.

 

 

Whether the gay tendency has been engendered in the individual from birth or somehow developed over time, the Boy Scouts are like the Catholic Church and millions of Americans who recently showed support for the traditional family by filling up on Chick-fil-A.

 

Irving Berlin believed deeply in the principal of freedom of expression and he believed in  the moral concepts embodied by the Boy Scouts of America.

 

In 1940, Irving Berlin directed that  the royalties from the song "God Bless America"  go to  the Boy Scouts.

 

Every time that song is played in public, the Boy Scouts'  cash register rings.

 

They have had their challenges over the last several years, some of which include  Scoutmasters committing sexual abuse.

 

They have taken corrective measures.

 

The Boy Scouts have changed with the times and membership is  on the upswing as a result.

 

But one thing they have not changed.

 

They have refused to back down as it  relates to their moral principals.

 

I like that.

 

I also used to like contributing to United Way.

 

Not anymore.

 

If you support  the Boy Scouts and their right to take a moral stance, let United Way know.

 

That little boy  who escaped the anti-Semitism of Russia knew something about freedom.

 

Sing it proudly, Scouts.

 

God Bless America.

 

How do I love thee, Pollster? Let me count the wives.

This political season has generated more polling than any other in history.

 

And because of the technology available to campaign committees, it's easier than ever to conduct a telephone survey to see exactly what voters are thinking.

 

Computers are dialing my house like crazy followed by a list of questions easily answered with the punch of a number on the keypad.

 

My favorite, though, is the personal interview where I get to talk to a real person.

 

I am enjoying it thoroughly.

 

You see, as a kid, I never had the guts to pull some of the pranks designed by the Eddie Haskell types I knew.

 

Calling the local Walgreen's to ask if they had Prince Albert in a can was a laugh riot to my juvenile mind ( "Well, you better let him out then.")

 

But I always left such mischief to the disreputables in our ranks.

 

I was above such behavior.

 

Occasionally, I found humor in the poor soul wearing a "kick me" sign surreptitiously taped to the back of his shirt.

 

Today we call this bullying followed by an investigation and eventual expulsion of the ruthless miscreants who would so demean their fellow student.

 

But never  a perpetrator of practical jokes was   I.

 

Until now.

 

Quinnipiac, Harris, and Gallup keep calling me and I am truthful regarding my choices for office.

 

But I must admit I'm having a ball with the demographic inquiries these pollsters make.

 

I think it's an invasion of privacy.

 

Therefore, I seek revenge.

 

I am creative when responding.

 

Last week, I was a high school dropout practicing Islam.

 

A couple of days ago, I was a single mom working part time at a Tattoo parlor.

 

Three weeks ago, my annual income ballooned to over one million dollars and I was 91 years old. My spouse was only 23.

 

The kids can't wait for me to kick so they can get their hands on that money.

 

One  earnest political interrogator wanted details of my marital status.

 

On that day, I had 15 wives.

 

I can't help it.

 

It's a religious practice.

 

No names. Just wife number one, wife number two, wife number three, etc.

 

Funny thing.

 

I never get them confused.

 

I'm  waiting to see the results on television.

 

"Among fundamentalist bigamists, Mitt Romney leads Obama by 10 points."

 

And accents.

 

I've used several of them, all of them bad.

 

One time I lost track and switched from a proper English accent to one from the  Jersey shore.

 

The poor chap listening to me couldn't  understand why a former butler from London kept on saying "Yo, man, how's it hangin' ? ".

 

I told you it was bad.

 

So political hacks, be warned.

 

Call my house if you want to.

 

You never know what rare character will emerge to answer your questions.

 

Have a nice day.

 

By the way, have you seen wife number eleven?

 

She picked up my dry cleaning last week and I can't find my loincloth.

Yuppie Parents Sometimes Out of Control on the Roadways of Life

Who are these people?

 

They are so busy that they have to combine activities  not meant to be done at same time.

 

Some of our young moms and dads love to run for exercise.

 

Jogging mile after mile.

 

Sometimes a marathon here and there but always running.

 

Relentlessly.

 

Work.

 

Dinner with friends.

 

Maybe a little wine tasting.

 

Their  house is full of the latest technology and enough gym equipment to launch an Olympic team.

 

But then mother nature intervenes.

 

Along comes baby.

 

What are they supposed to do now?

 

Which leads us to the yuppie combo plan.

 

Everyone knows that good parents take Junior out for some fresh air every day.

 

This is a problem.

 

After all, the daily routine must include nails done, Pilates, yoga, lunch with friends, and don't forget the daily Starbucks run.

 

But America's sweethearts are ingeniously clever.

 

Heather and Brad can have it all by doing two things at once!

 

Breakfast while answering e-mails.

 

Texting while getting a pedicure.

 

And … America's newest competitive event.

 

Baby buggy boogie boogie.

 

You've seen it.

 

Mom or dad pushing the baby buggy while running, headset place firmly over the ears to listen to the audio version of the latest from Oprah's book club.

 

This super parent has got to work up a good sweat.

 

Got to be ready for the Save The Botox Clinic marathon.

 

So what if baby Megan gets a bumpy ride?

 

Mustn't let baby's excursion interfere with training.

 

Now I've seen this little endeavor in my own neighborhood.

 

It makes me nervous.

 

Some of these runners are really moving.

 

That padded top-of-the-line pram with spring-loaded shock absorbers is really rattling down the uneven sidewalk.

 

I hope the infant's teeth haven't come in yet because it will be hard not to lose them during this rough ride.

 

Here's a frightening variation.

 

Bicycle enthusiasts have invented a scary chariot for the unfortunate tot that gets attached to the back of the bike.

 

Baby trails mom or dad in this plastic and canvas deathtrap on wheels that bumps down the highway about 13 inches off the ground.

 

Are you kidding me?

 

By the time the delivery  truck has sideswiped  baby, it's too late.

 

Ben-Hur was safer when the Romans tried to run him off the track in the Roman Colosseum.

 

Look, young parents.

 

I get it.

 

You're busy.

 

But give your kids a gift that only you can give them.

 

Your full time and attention.

 

Read a book to them.

 

And don't rush it.

 

Skip the stroller Sprint or the bike a baby and do it the old-fashioned way.

 

Make your kid number one.

 

Take them out to let the sun and the wind gently caress them.

 

Even babies can sense when mom or dad is merely squeezing them into their self-centered schedule.

 

Look, your glutes may not be as tight as you'd like under my plan.

 

But your kids will be safer.

 

And the love you demonstrate will be good for another body part.

 

Your heart.