Posted on 03/02/2012 9:17:36 AM PST by Short Bus
Sheriff Joe Arpaio of Arizona is bound and determined to make sure we never forget the embarrassment of the birther movement. Most of us would love to put that ugly little racist blip in our history -- a time when conspiracy theorists and fools alike accused President Barack Obama of not being American. But Arpaio, a sheriff in Phoenix, Arizona, just won't give it up.
Can we say beating a dead horse, people? Sometimes it seems like certain politicians just do things to help out Stephen Colbert, Jon Stewart, and Bill Maher. After all, how else does anyone explain Arpaio's inane and insane assertion that Obama, a man who produced his birth certificate last year, isn't American?
See his ranting [here].
"Forgery or fraud may have been committed," says Arpaio. Ooooh no! Are ghosts and goblins real, too, Sheriff Arpaio? How about the Loch Ness Monster? Do you go visit old Nessie on your days off from enforcing the laws of Arizona?
In all seriousness, this is vile racism plain and simple. In a place like Arizona, it's no surprise -- after all, many politicians there (including Arpaio) hold rather Draconian views on immigration -- and it's disgusting. And it's getting old fast.
For all you doubters for whom book learning was apparently a challenge, here are the facts: President Barack Obama was born in Honolulu on August 4, 1961. He has produced both a certificate of live birth during the 2008 campaign and the long-form certificate last year. Neither has been disproved.
So why is this still going on? Arpaio seems like a joke, but, according to Obama campaign spokesman Ben LaBolt, Republican Presidential hopeful Mitt Romney doesn't think so. Yesterday LaBolt tweeted:
Romney has called Arpaio for his endorsement, his aides called "weekly" and Arpaio was his honorary Chair in 08.That's embarrassing. The fact is, most people agree Arpaio is a few cards shy of a full deck, but here we are still talking about him. Is this an alternate universe? Why am I guessing this guy is the type of person who stays at parties hours after they have ended asking for more chips and guacamole? Dude, the party is over, the ship has sailed, and you are beating a dead horse.
Sadly, there aren't enough cliched ways to say IT'S OVER to make it any clearer to this guy.
I’m glad your nose is OK. Mostly, the Great Danes suffered from excessive happiness. They’d hop around w/these crazy grins on their faces, and land on my feet (feet were always black and blue.)
Now for a glorious day of vacuuming the car and cleaning the garage. (Not kidding—we’re really lucky to have car, garage, cats, dog, each other—YAY!)
P.S. Did the sailboat ever tip over? How do you get them upright again?
Talking about blunt force to the nose: that’s how you could ID the really tough kids in the neighborhood. They’d just shake their heads. (It wasn’t like it sounds. Urban kids were on the street all the time—the parents would push us all out the door and say, “Get fresh air. Have fun. Go away.” A favorite pastime [sp?] was playing cards. I walked up in back of one kid who was giving another kid “knuckles” and got the edge of a pack of cards in the nose—the kid drew back with the cards—these were the children of longshorement, etc., all constructed like tanks.)
Another interesting hobby we had was jumping off the movie theater fire escape. My best friend jumped off three stories. My best was two stories. We bounced good. :)
I haven’t been sailing. My husband goes with one of his church friends, and sometimes they take some children. Anoreth goes when she’s at home, Tom and Elen, and Pat is nagging. They learn to capsize and right the boats when they take the sailing class, but I don’t know how!
It started with Tom taking sailing at Boy Scout camp, and grew from there. ‘Face may recall my being somewhat grateful that I didn’t get a larger settlement from my auto accident a couple of years ago, because DP was talking about buying a sailboat!
“Pastime” is correct. I have to snicker when someone types that painting, for example, is his favorite “past time.” (The early medieval period is my favorite past time ... before the climate turned cold and everyone starved and got sick.)
Yes, I recall that “sailboat” dream very well! Let the mens go be macho, and the goils be macha, and leave us ol’ folks to sip the Pink Restorative and eat pretzels!
There was a notice on my door yesterday that said I was going to have another inspection. Dang. I don’t feel well enough to clean it but if I get some done every day, I should be good by Tuesday.
Unnngghhh!
BTW, please feel free to correct my spelling, grammar and punctuation! (or not.) I can’t find my usage books (only have two, and they’re from the fifties and sixties.)
Pretzels—youse are so virtuous! I lost it and picked up chips and dip yesterday. (Mea culpa, mea culpa....)
They come into your apartment?
Ohyes. I only rent. I signed a lease that said they could come in and inspect or else. I didn’t like the “else.”
She might be running a meth lab, you know.
Or have an acre of pot plants in my sleeping area/bathtub.
Somewhere, somebody is quietly accumulating a fortune in algae.
I’m sure that person will go far.
Howdy!
Afternoon! Is it cold there? 74 and humid here, not bad for sailing if they got any wind.
No it is 51 outside right now, sunny.
I do well, thank you. Enjoy this day!
Thanks! *blush*
:whispers: (I borrowed it on the No-Return Plan)
Hey, Girl!
I thought a lot about you today as my elbows and knees gave in to psoriatic arthritis...
Any signs of spring, yet?
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