I Can Prove That You Are a Slave in America

When someone mentions “slavery” we immediately think of black people being forced to work for free. If they do not work for us for free then we beat them with fists, whips, or threaten death. Sure the 13th Amendment was ratified in 1865, but I contend that slavery still continues today and with even greater fervency than it did in the past.

The 13th Amendment reads:

Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.

Definitions:
Slavery:

Peonage:
18 USC 1581: (a) Whoever holds or returns any person to a condition of peonage, or arrests any person with the intent of placing him in or returning him to a condition of peonage, shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than 20 years, or both. If death results from the violation of this section, or if the violation includes kidnapping or an attempt to kidnap, aggravated sexual abuse or the attempt to commit aggravated sexual abuse, or an attempt to kill, the defendant shall be fined under this title or imprisoned for any term of years or life, or both. (link)
Forced Labor:
18 USC 1589: Whoever knowingly provides or obtains the labor or services of a person— (1) by threats of serious harm to, or physical restraint against, that person or another person; (2) by means of any scheme, plan, or pattern intended to cause the person to believe that, if the person did not perform such labor or services, that person or another person would suffer serious harm or physical restraint; or (3) by means of the abuse or threatened abuse of law or the legal process, shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than 20 years, or both. If death results from the violation of this section, or if the violation includes kidnapping or an attempt to kidnap, aggravated sexual abuse or the attempt to commit aggravated sexual abuse, or an attempt to kill, the defendant shall be fined under this title or imprisoned for any term of years or life, or both. (link)

Involuntary Servitude:

18 USC 1584: Whoever knowingly and willfully holds to involuntary servitude or sells into any condition of involuntary servitude, any other person for any term, or brings within the United States any person so held, shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than 20 years, or both. If death results from the violation of this section, or if the violation includes kidnapping or an attempt to kidnap, aggravated sexual abuse or the attempt to commit aggravated sexual abuse, or an attempt to kill, the defendant shall be fined under this title or imprisoned for any term of years or life, or both. (link)

So what the 13th Amendment outlaws is you forcing people to work for free for repayment of a debt. You cannot hold someone captive by phyiscal force, threats of physical force, or legal coercion to be bound into compulsory service against ones will. In Bailey v. Alabama 219 U.S. 219 (1911) it was decided by the Supreme Court that one could not be forced to refund money (link).

Later on in 1988 in the Supreme Court case of United States v. Kozminski it was decided that you could not place someone in [psychological] fear of involuntarily servitude. The Court held that, “[a] holding in involuntary servitude occurs when an individual coerces another into his service by improper or wrongful conduct that is intended to cause, and does cause, the other person to believe that he or she has no alternative but to perform labor.”

With this said, what does that make of the taxation scheme of America?

We are told that we must pay taxes. The good old saying of “Two things in life are certain, death and taxes” is familiar to many Americans. But, why are taxes so certain? If the 13th Amendment does not allow us to be forced into physical labor and the courts have ruled that you also cannot be forced to believe that you have no option of working against your will, then why is it that you are working against your will?

If you don’t think that you are enslaved, then try to tell the IRS or the government that you are not going to pay taxes anymore. They are going to threaten you with penalties, fees, court, levying on your paycheck, coming and taking your property, and lastly… putting you in prison. Back in the “slave days” if a salve said they were not going to work for free, they were beat. Today, if you say that you are not going to work for free, the IRS threatens and sends the dogs after you. Same thing but different methods of accomplishing the same thing – salvery.

In United States v. Warren, 772 F.2d 827, 833-834 (CA11 1985) the court specifically said, “Various forms of coercion may constitute a holding in involuntary servitude. The use, or threatened use, of physical force to create a climate of fear is the most grotesque example of such coercion.” (link)

Ask any American, do you fear the IRS and they will probably say “yes” or they will say “no, because I do everything they say.” I plea now to you, how is this not a “climate of fear”? Either you pay the government out of fear or you do whatever they say out of fear (i.e. highway robbery).

It is important to note at this point that I am not against taxation itself. But, I am against forced taxation. If you tell me that I must pay taxes on every dollar I earn, then how is that not slavery? Would it be any different if the government told you that you can keep 100% of whatever you make at Job A and then you have to come to Job B (government factory or something) and work for free? I contend, no. Just because the government does not force you to work in a certain location, them demanding a percentage of your earnings is still them forcing you to work for free – is it not? If you do not understand what the difference is between forced taxation (direct) and voluntary taxation (indirect), I suggest you read up on each and decide what type of taxation the Federal/State Income Tax really is. (Crash course: Direct taxation is a tax that you cannot avoid and essentially says, you are a human so pay it. Indirect taxation is a tax that you can avoid, such as a tax on liquor which you can circumvent by distilling your own, buying from someplace that does not have tax [Indian Resevervation maybe?], or simply by not buying liquor.).

If you disagree with me, then I’d be happy to entertain your thoughts. I’ve yet to find anyone that can rebutt my case above. Even if you feel that paying taxes is your duty then that still does not answer my question of whether or not taxation as it is now is slavery or not. The issue is, does the government force you to give them a cut of your labor pay otherwise they threaten you?

Furthermore, if you agree with me then why are you continuing to be a slave – either by choice or by your silence. Is this what you want of your children, friends, and neighbors – to be enslaved in fear? Is it somehow OK for your government to enslave you instead of an individual? As I started out, slavery can no longer be considered just for black people – it is for everyone. You are living it now and have been for some time…

Liberal Mom Raises a Conservative Son

So I told my mom last night, “How are you a Democrat? You vote Democrat but you talk to me every week on the phone like a Conservative. You raised me as a Conservative by instilling in me very Conservative values. You are a Conservative, you just don’t know it.”

She laughed.

Admittedly, this is something that has long since bothered – well maybe it doesn’t bother me, it more-or-less intrigues me. How can one vote for something all their lives but on a very personal level, they are very much something else? My mother is a wonderful person. I am very much like her and this is probably due to her strong desire to raise me with all she had. She was very active in my life, maybe a little bit too much sometimes if you know what I mean. But she is a Liberal and I am a Conservative…

She is fiscally conservative. I don’t know if she is that way because she has to be or because that is who she is. We never had money growing up. The magic answer to anything new was normally “no.” After a while I didn’t even bother to ask. I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to her to deny my request, but because I understood that the family could not afford it. I don’t remember her ever specifically saying this fact, but I do remember her diligently cutting out coupons and searching for sales. I remember getting cheap shoes and hoping they lasted, but I never knew there was a difference in shoes until other kids pointed it out to me. We never went out on the town – and if it was, it was to Taco Bell off the 69 cent menu (which was a real treat). Maybe she did, but I never heard her begging for help from people either – she just went out and worked multiple jobs. Or even better, worked one job while we were at school that way she could be with us kids at home.

She believes in personal responsibility. I remember my Mother and Father sitting me down one day and telling me, “If you do something wrong, we are going to let you pay the consequences. Even if that means jail. However, if you did nothing wrong, then we will stand by you until the end.” I tested both ends of that spectrum growing up. On the negative end I decided to go out with some friends and tear someone’s bushes up by jumping on them. The neighbor called my parents and my parent’s delivered me to the owner of the bush to do whatever he wanted. Luckily for me, he was a friend of the family and he just had me apologize and clean up the mess. The other boys that tore the bush up with me, their parents were called but they never came to help or even to apologize. Maybe this is another instance where I learned that I was being raised in a special way. On the other end of that spectrum I was blamed for tearing up a school textbook on the school bus one day. They stood up for me even though the school was ready to suspend me.

She believed in competition. She always was pitting myself against my siblings in athletics and school – especially school. I remember her saying, “If you don’t keep your grades up, your brother’s and sisters are going to and then get good jobs and then they aren’t going to help you. ” It was obvious that she believed in excelling in whatever task you did to “get ahead of the competition.” It was never, nah, sit back and coast and someone will help you out or bail you out, it was always “if you don’t do it, then nobody’s going to do it for you.” It was never mean. In fact, it was kind of fun to compete.  My all-star/select siblings in multiple sports always beat me in sports but I had them in academics. But they never gave up chasing my grades and I never quit chasing their sports records.

She was an individualist. It was obvious that she loved all of us but it was also obvious that she loved each of us on an individual level and most definitely not out of obligation. I remember camping and all of us were a team to set up camp and each had their own little jobs. Sometimes, the job was to just stay out of the way because you were cranky with a full diaper. Ha! But same back home. We were recognized on our own merits. I don’t think I realized it at all at the time, but I see it now. I never heard any sort of bigoted comment. If she was mad, then it was at that person, not their race or their gender or anything.

I remember little things that my mother said to me growing up all the time and I always wonder, how can a fairly dedicated Democrat say something that is so utterly Conservative in thought? I wish I could remember them so I could post them right now because some of them had a very large impact on me being who I am today.

I ended up telling her a little later in the conversation that I think she is simply a Democrat because that is what has been taught to her. For whatever reason in the past people were generally taught that Democrats are “for the people/workers” and that Republicans are “for businesses/businessmen.” Since she has always been a worker, she has also maintained that thought. Her parents (my grandparents) are also Democrats, so it seems that political affiliations run in the family (although I’d argue that my grandparents are Conservative too).

With that said, it seems that in some of the mid-generations the pseudo Communistic bourgeois (R) vs proletariat (D) is there. I wonder how many people of older generations as well as the new voters have really taken a look at both parties and realized that in reality, they are the same with very small differences – both still war (to go or to continue funding), both are still fiscally irresponsible, both take rights/liberties away, both don’t represent their constituents, and both vote on things/laws that are unConstitutional.

So how is it that a Conservative thinker was raised by a Democratic mother again? Where is the disconnect?

Could You Survive With No Money? Meet the Guy Who Does.

(Original here)

DANIEL SUELO LIVES IN A CAVE. UNLIKE THE average American—wallow….ing in credit-card debt, clinging to a mortgage, terrified of the next downsizing at the office—he isn’t worried about the economic crisis. That’s because he figured out that the best way to stay solvent is to never be solvent in the first place. Nine years ago, in the autumn of 2000, Suelo decided to stop using money. He just quit it, like a bad drug habit.

His dwelling, hidden high in a canyon lined with waterfalls, is an hour by foot from the desert town of Moab, Utah, where people who know him are of two minds: He’s either a latter-day prophet or an irredeemable hobo. Suelo’s blog, which he maintains free at the Moab Public Library, suggests that he’s both. “When I lived with money, I was always lacking,” he writes. “Money represents lack. Money represents things in the past (debt) and things in the future (credit), but money never represents what is present.”

On a warm day in early spring, I clamber along a set of red-rock cliffs to the mouth of his cave, where I find a note signed with a smiley face: CHRIS, FEEL FREE TO USE ANYTHING, EAT ANYTHING (NOTHING HERE IS MINE). From the outside, the place looks like a hollowed teardrop, about the size of an Amtrak bathroom, with enough space for a few pots that hang from the ceiling, a stove under a stone eave, big buckets full of beans and rice, a bed of blankets in the dirt, and not much else. Suelo’s been here for three years, and it smells like it.

Night falls, the stars wink, and after an hour, Suelo tramps up the cliff, mimicking a raven’s call—his salutation—a guttural, high-pitched caw. He’s lanky and tan; yesterday he rebuilt the entrance to his cave, hauling huge rocks to make a staircase. His hands are black with dirt, and his hair, which is going gray, looks like a bird’s nest, full of dust and twigs from scrambling in the underbrush on the canyon floor. Grinning, he presents the booty from one of his weekly rituals, scavenging on the streets of Moab: a wool hat and gloves, a winter jacket, and a white nylon belt, still wrapped in plastic, along with Carhartt pants and sandals, which he’s wearing. He’s also scrounged cans of tuna and turkey Spam and a honeycomb candle. All in all, a nice haul from the waste product of America. “You made it,” he says. I hand him a bag of apples and a block of cheese I bought at the supermarket, but the gift suddenly seems meager.

Suelo lights the candle and stokes a fire in the stove, which is an old blackened tin, the kind that Christmas cookies might come in. It’s hooked to a chain of soup cans segmented like a caterpillar and fitted to a hole in the rock. Soon smoke billows into the night and the cave is warm. I think of how John the Baptist survived on honey and locusts in the desert. Suelo, who keeps a copy of the Bible for bedtime reading, is satisfied with a few grasshoppers fried in his skillet.

HE WASN’T ALWAYS THIS WAY. SUELO graduated from the University of Colorado with a degree in anthropology, he thought about becoming a doctor, he held jobs, he had cash and a bank account. In 1987, after several years as an assistant lab technician in Colorado hospitals, he joined the Peace Corps and was posted to an Ecuadoran village high in the Andes. He was charged with monitoring the health of tribespeople in the area, teaching first aid and nutrition, and handing out medicine where needed; his proudest achievement was delivering three babies. The tribe had been getting richer for a decade, and during the two years he was there he watched as the villagers began to adopt the economics of modernity. They sold the food from their fields—quinoa, potatoes, corn, lentils—for cash, which they used to purchase things they didn’t need, as Suelo describes it. They bought soda and white flour and refined sugar and noodles and big bags of MSG to flavor the starchy meals. They bought TVs. The more they spent, says Suelo, the more their health declined. He could measure the deterioration on his charts. “It looked,” he says, “like money was impoverishing them.”

The experience was transformative,…. but Suelo needed another decade to fashion his response. He moved to Moab and worked at a women’s shelter for five years. He wanted to help people, but getting paid for it seemed dishonest—how real was help that demanded recompense? The answer lay, in part, in the Christianity of his childhood. In Suelo’s nascent philosophy, following Jesus meant adopting the hard life prescribed in the Sermon on the Mount. “Giving up possessions, living beyond credit and debt,” Suelo explains on his blog, “freely giving and freely taking, forgiving all debts, owing nobody a thing, living and walking without guilt . . . grudge [or] judgment.” If grace was the goal, Suelo told himself, then it had to be grace in the classical sense, from the Latin gratia, meaning favor—and also, free.

By 1999, he was living in a Buddhist monastery in Thailand—he had saved just enough money for the flight. From there, he made his way to India, where he found himself in good company among the sadhus, the revered ascetics who go penniless for their gods. Numbering as many as 5 million, the sadhus can be found wandering roads and forests across the subcontinent, seeking enlightenment in self-….abnegation. “I wanted to be a sadhu,” Suelo says. “But what good would it do for me to be a sadhu in India? A true test of faith would be to return to one of the most materialistic, money-….worshipping nations on earth and be a sadhu there. To be a vagabond in America, a bum, and make an art of it—the idea enchanted me.”

THERE ISN’T ENOUGH SPACE IN SUELO’S cave for two, so I sleep in the open, at the edge of a hundred-foot cliff. No worries about animals, he says. Though mountain lions drink from the stream, and bobcats hunt rabbits under the cottonwoods, the worst he’s experienced was a skunk that sprayed him in the face. Mice scurry over his body in the cave, and kissing bugs sometimes suck the blood from under his fingernails while he sleeps. He shrugs off these indignities. “After all, it’s their cave too,” he says. I hunker down near a nest of scorpions, which crawl up the canyon walls, ignoring me.

The morning ritual is simple and slow: a cup of sharp tea brewed from the needles of piñon and juniper trees, a swim in the cold emerald water where the creek pools in the red rock. Then, two naked cavemen lounging under the Utah sun. Around noon, we forage along the banks and under the cliffs, looking for the stuff of a stir-fry dinner. We find mustard plants among the rocks, the raw leaves as satisfying as cauliflower, and down in the cool of the creek—where Suelo gets his water and takes his baths (no soap for him) —we cull watercress in heads as big as supermarket lettuce, and on the bank we spot a lode of wild onions, with bulbs that pop clean from the soil. In leaner times, Suelo’s gatherings include ants, grubs, termites, lizards, and roadkill. He recently found a deer, freshly run over, and carved it up and boiled it. “The best venison of my life,” he says.

I tell him that living without money seems difficult. What about starvation? He’s never gone without a meal (friends in Moab sometimes feed him). What about getting deadly ill? It happened once, after eating a cactus he misidentified—h….e vomited, fell into a delirium, thought he was dying, even wrote a note for those who would find his corpse. But he got better. That it’s hard is exactly the point, he says. “Hardship is a good thing. We need the challenge. Our bodies need it. Our immune systems need it. My hardships are simple, right at hand—they’re manageable.” When I tell him about my rent back in New York—$2,400 a month—he shakes his head. What’s left unsaid is that I’m here writing about him to make money, for a magazine that depends for its survival on the advertising revenue of conspicuous consumption. As he prepares a cooking fire, Suelo tells me that years ago he had a neighbor in the canyon, an alcoholic who lived in a cave bigger than his. The old man would pan for gold in the stream and net enough cash each month to buy the beer that kept him drunk. Suelo considers the riches of our own forage. “What if we saw gold for what it is?” he says meditatively. “Gold is pretty but virtually useless. Somebody decided it has worth, and everybody accepted this decision. The natives in the Americas thought Europeans were insane because of their lust for such a useless yellow substance.”

He sautés the watercress, mustard leaves, and wild onions, mixing in fresh almonds he picked from a friend’s orchard and ghee made from Dumpster-dived butter, and we eat out of his soot-caked pans. From the perch on the cliff, the life of the sadhu seems reasonable. But I don’t want to live in a cave. I like indoor plumbing (Suelo squats). I like electricity. Still, there’s an obvious beauty in the simplicity of subsistence. It’s an un-American notion these days. We don’t revere our ascetics, and we dismiss the idea that money could be some kind of consensual delusion. For most of us, it’s as real as the next house payment. Suelo doesn’t take public assistance or use food stamps, but he does survive in part on our reality, the discarded surfeit of the money system that he denounces—a system, as it happens, that recently looked like it was headed for the cliff.

Suelo is 48, and he doesn’t exactly have a 401(k). “I’ll do what creatures have been doing for millions of years for retirement,” he says. “Why is it sad that I die in the canyon and not in the geriatric ward well-insured? I have great faith in the power of natural selection. And one day, I will be selected out.” Until then, think of him like the raven, cleaning up the carcasses the rest of us leave behind.

Conservatives Donate With Their Hearts

Conservatives donate with their hearts. Liberals donate through taxation of the rich.

Ode to America

FROM ROMANIA: RECOGNITION (AND ENVY) OF THE AMERICAN ETHOS AND ÉLAN !

Subject: Editorial from a Romanian newspaper; An ode to America

Why are Americans so united? They don’t resemble one another even if you paint them! They speak all the languages of the world and form an astonishing mixture of civilizations. Some of them are nearly extinct, others are incompatible with one another, and in matters of religious beliefs, not even God can count how many they are.

Still, the American tragedy turned three hundred million people into a hand put on the heart. Nobody rushed to accuse the White House, the army, the secret services that they are only a bunch of losers. Nobody rushed to empty their bank accounts. Nobody rushed on the streets nearby to gape about. The Americans volunteered to donate blood and to give a helping hand.

After the first moments of panic, they raised the flag on the smoking ruins, putting on T-shirts, caps and ties in the colors of the national flag. They placed flags on buildings and cars as if in every place and on every car a minister or the president was passing. On every occasion they started singing their traditional song: “God Bless America!”.

Silent as a rock, I watched the charity concert broadcast on Saturday once, twice, three times, on different TV channels. There were Clint Eastwood, Willie Nelson, Robert de Niro, Julia Roberts, Cassius Clay, Jack Nicholson, Bruce Springsteen, Silvester Stalone, James Wood, and many others whom no film or producers could ever bring together.

The American’s solidarity spirit turned them into a choir. Actually, choir is not the word. What you could hear was the heavy artillery of the American soul. What neither George W. Bush, nor Bill Clinton, nor Colin Powell could say without facing the risk of stumbling over words and sounds, was being heard in a great and unmistakable way in this charity concert. I don’t know how it happened that all this obsessive singing of America didn’t sound croaky, nationalist, or ostentatious! It made you green with envy because you weren’t able to sing for your country without running the risk of being considered chauvinist, ridiculous, or suspected of who-knows-what mean interests. I watched the live broadcast and the rerun of its rerun for hours listening to the story of the guy who went down one hundred floors with a woman in a wheelchair without knowing who she was, or of the Californian hockey player, who fought with the terrorists and prevented the plane from hitting a target that would have killed other hundreds or thousands of people.

How on earth were they able to bow before a fellow human? Imperceptibly, with every word and musical note, the memory of some turned into a modern myth of tragic heroes. And with every phone call, millions and millions of dollars were put in a collection aimed at rewarding not a man or a family, but a spirit which nothing can buy. What on earth can unite the Americans in such a way? Their land? Their galloping history? Their economic power? Money?

I tried for hours to find an answer, humming songs and murmuring phrases which risk of sounding like commonplaces. I thought things over, but I reached only one conclusion.

Only freedom can work such miracles!

(Original here)(Confirmed True by Snopes here)

Bashas knows

I received this the other day in the mail. At first I thought it was just another piece of junk mail. But then I read the headline. Unions destryong? Hmmm, I had to read.

As you can see, the Union is going after Bashas’ because they are a un-Unionized. And Mr Basha calls it like it is – they don’t want to represent his employees, they want their Union dues. Rightfully so he reminds everyone that they already are represented and love their jobs without the Union (as they were voted best place to work, etc).

So there you have it folks. This is the Union. No bueno.

Los Angeles meter maids, you are pitiful

Dear LA meter maids,

You all are pitiful. I recently went on vacation to Torrence, CA, and received a parking ticked while sitting in my car. When you walked by my car slightly before 10 and saw me sitting there you could have simply told me, an out-of-state visitor, that parking in that area was closed at 10PM. I would have gladly moved if you had told me that the parking was closed. Instead you decided to write me a ticket with me sitting in my car. I know, I know. California needs some extra revenue so you are told to go full bore on ticket writing. 10:01PM and still waiting to pull away because traffic has you blocked in? TICKET! Waiting on your friend to get back from taking a pee and it is 10:01PM? TICKET! Or in my case, 10:17 and sitting in your car trying to figure out what to do in a strange city where you know where nothing is? TICKET!

Ya’ll are pitiful. But, I understand. Arizona is full force with their speeding revenue cameras as well.

Sincerely,

Kyle

PS – I won’t be back.

When Your Child Peeks at Your Playboy You Are Guilty of Child Abuse

Hmmmm. I am sure that many of you have mixed feelings on pornography. This is further muddied when you start talking about when is one grown enough to view materials that are pornographic in nature. How old do we need to be to be able to view such material? What happens to the human psyche, if anything, from viewing it at young age? Does it change the way we love? Or, does pornography really have very little to do with how we interact – instead we learn how to interact with people more through how our parents teach us? In other words, if you view pornography at a young age, are you destined to be psychologically f’d up?

Before I jump into this I’d like to mention how times have changed over the generations. First off, you would grow up with your parents and grandparents and possibly your aunts and uncles. You did this all under one roof. Nobody had their own room. I’m sure that privacy was not the biggest concern in a situation like that. And likewise, I would presume that when the adults wanted to get busy that you would have to lay there and listen… or watch. It was just a part of life back then and accepted as such. I may even go as far as to say that people interconnected sex with a loving marriage because of this little tidbit. But I digress.

I think that I was exposed to pornography at around 11 or something. My friend had found a computer disk with about 5 pictures of nude women on it and we sat there and checked it out together like any curious boy would do. I don’t think it changed my psyche and I don’t think it changed who I was. I don’t think it made me some sort of woman hater. I think that all of who I am is derived of how my parents raised me, not because I was exposed to pornography at 11.

In Iowa they are trying to pass a bill that would designate anyone that allows a child to see pornography to be guilty of child abuse and be listed on the state’s child abuse registry.

Iowa lawmakers state that:

Access to pornography puts children at greater risk for sexual abuse as well as psychological and emotional harm. (link)

With what study has this been confirmed? Says who? Am I psychologically and emotionally harmed? Anyone else out there that was exposed to porn at t young age that feels that they have lived a fairly normal life? I could be totally wrong. But, I’d be glad to hear other peoples experiences.

Of course the lawmakers say that this law will be reserved for the most serious cases. But, what is the “most serious” of these cases. If I have a kid and they have been sneaking my stash for 4 years, does that mean that I am a serious case because it has been going on for 4 years? Or is this only reserved for me when dad drops me his 2008 issues of Playboy? Or, does it only count when he drops me something more hardcore, such as some BDSM magazine?

I see this as just another law to get into our homes. We don’t know what is going to be considered obscene by some loopholed law. Is me watching Look Who’s Talking going to be too obscene? Or does it matter how old the kid is – maybe a 3 year old can’t handle that when a 5 year old can? Or how about American Pie? Se7en? Borat? Simpson’s Movie?

Or what about that tattoo you got of a naked woman on your bicep? Are you going to have to cover that up every time you see your kid until they turn 18?

I want my government to protect my life from invaders and and protect my freedoms and liberties – not jump in through my window and make sure that my kids aren’t seeing anything they don’t approve of… whatever that may be as they haven’t really defined it.

Please correct me if I am way off.

The Solution Is Found Within Each Of Us

So, all we hear is how crappy the economy is anymore and how the US is spiraling into some sort of black hole of which we will never recover from. And for all this psycho babble talk (and with the help of my new friend Liz), I say BULLSHIT.

Of course, my optimism is not due to Messiah Obama coming into the big chair here in a few days. No. I could care less about him. He isn’t magical and he surely isn’t my Messiah. No, my optimism is rooted in the belief that Americans are a different breed. In the history of our country we have never laid down in the face of a problem, adversity, or even a big bully throwing torpedoes at our ships. Hell no. We were build on the notion that WE THE PEOPLE had the power here in this land – not only control of our government, but also to fix whatever happened in the economy. During the Revolution war we rode our horses around and flipped the bird at England. We told her to shove off and go find some other people to rule.

For the first time in the history of the world a group of people decided they wanted to be free of tyranny and live their lives how they wanted.  They didn’t want to be told what religion to practice. They didn’t want to work hard just to give someone “tax” money. They didn’t want to have the government come in their house and dig around. And so much more. And with those thoughts, we made this country.

Britian is most promiscious

It is far from an achievement to be proud of – research suggests that British men and women are the most promiscuous in the Western world.

It appears the days when we took a strict moralistic approach towards sex are long gone.

Researchers blamed the situation on a decline of religious scruples, the growth of equal rights for women and a highly sexualised popular culture.

They found that when it comes to one-night stands, numbers of partners and attitudes to casual sex, Britain leads the field, ahead of even liberal nations such as the Netherlands and the passionate Italians.

The researchers believe that our place at the top of the table could be linked to the way society has become more tolerant of sexual promiscuity among women as well as men. Women are now as accepting of one-night stands as men, they claimed. The research was led by David Schmitt, a professor of psychology at Bradley University, Illinois.

He said: ‘Historically we have repressed women’s short-term mating and there are all sorts of double standards out there where men’s short-term mating was sort of acceptable but women’s wasn’t.’