If anyone ever needed proof of how much the Left fears Sarah Palin, or how desperately MSNBC seeks to generate some news, they need only watch the pathetic attack dog interview conducted by self styled Obama Chick Nora O’Donnell of MSNBC this week. O’Donnell, stalking a line of Palin supporters waiting to get their books signed, like a shark circling its prey, pounced upon a teenage Palin supporter who wore a funny tee shirt lampooning the TARP bailout. It seems that this female Keith Doberman Wannabe just could not wait to engage this unsuspecting young girl in a debate as to whether Sarah was, or was not, in favor of the government bailout.

Of course, this ambush interview had nothing to do with reportage and nothing to do with the merits of Palin’s position on this issue at all. Nope, it was simply one more hit piece by one more MSNBC hit person designed to embarrass this young girl, impugn Sarah and her supporters, and prove once again, how stupid everyone to the right of Keith Doberman, Chris (Tingle Down My Leg When Obama Speaks) Mathews and Nora (Obama Chick) O’Donnell really is.

But, what can we expect from a “news” organization whose sole function in life was to attack the Evil One—George Bush—every evening during the Presidential campaign, ensure that their man Barack was elected, and thereafter, lead the cheers for the Obama Administration. MSNBC (Most Sycophants Nuzzling Barack Constantly) has, like every one of the national news organizations (ABC—All Barack Channel); CBS (Covering Barack Seriously), long since lost any semblance of credibility and is nothing more than a shill for Barack Obama.

Yet, what is it with this constant attack on Sarah Palin? Why are the Left and its Obama- fawning media outlets so desperate to attack Sarah Palin that they stoop to attack little girls in bookstores? It was not enough to trash Sarah and her family during the campaign, in the most vicious conspiracy to impugn a public figure ever undertaken by the mass media; it was not enough for David (Male Chauvinist Pig of the Year) Letterman to make jokes about Sarah’s daughter being raped at a baseball game. Now they resort to stalking lines of Palin fans and embarrassing themselves by asking stupid questions and trying to outsmart teenagers.

The answer is clear: while the Left pretends to be in favor of strong willed, independent, successful women, it only favors them if they are doctrinaire liberals. If women, like Sarah Palin, dare to espouse conservative values, are in favor of traditional marriage, do not believe in killing babies, and dare to think that people can succeed on their own without reliance on Uncle Sugar, then these women—like Sarah—become the enemy. I do not even think the Left realizes its own hypocrisy.

While liberal Democrats and their captive media pretend to champion women’s rights and equality of the sexes, and pretend to be so tolerant of all races, religions, and sexual orientations, they trash a good person like Sarah Palin and now attack little girls who stand in line to get a book signed by her. Of course, this is nothing new. After Obama dissed Hillary—who had far more votes during the Democratic primaries than the middle-aged white man who was picked as the Vice Presidential candidate—Obama sent his female minions who, unfazed by his shunning of Hillary, were nevertheless anxious to do his bidding. They spread across the land to criticize and slander Palin, trash her family, and convince the public that Democrats do not really hate strong willed successful women; rather, they just hate strong-willed successful women who are not liberals.

The only thing stranger than the dissing of Hillary was that Hillary—once dissed—was nevertheless anxious to do Obama’s bidding. She fanned out across the country along with a group of Obama Stepford Sisters, including Janet Napolitano, Kathleen Sebelius and others for the sole purpose of trying to stem the tide of Sarah Mania, which was then sweeping across the land. The only thing more curious than a party that prefers to field an all-male team, is that subservient women of that same party were most willing to trash another woman just because Obama commanded them. Between Hillary, her Stepford Sisters, and the lap dog press, which gets a collective Chris Mathews tingle down their leg whenever they hear Obama speak, the Left pulled out all stops to demean, undermine, and defeat the new girl on the block in 2008. And, as the recent O’Donnell interview with the little girl illustrated, the Left is at it again. It seems that Sarah is just too dangerous and they must continue to attack her lest, some day, God forbid, she may run against The Great Obama.

Sarah Palin’s only fault is that she is clean cut, intelligent, impressive, kind-hearted, endearing, compassionate, successful, religious, family oriented and (God forbid), unabashedly in love with her husband and children. And, she is one tough lady to boot. They just cannot stand this. It strikes fear into them. When Gloria Steinem—who once championed the ideal of the successful, intelligent, independent woman who could do whatever she desired to do—came out during the last election to trash a woman who typifies everything Steinem used to laud, then you know the Left was desperate. It still is. The Left is afraid—pure and simple. Nothing else explains their irrational behavior, their obsession with all things Sarah, and their continued campaign of slander, libel, and recent attacks on her supporters. The Left is, indeed, afraid of girls. They fear that, next time, this girl just might kick their butts.

Congressman Steve King of Iowa–Profile in Integrity

(A Stoos Views Exclusive)

© 2009 William Kevin Stoos

            What kind of a man would skip his own son’s wedding to cast a vote in the United States Congress?  The answer is, a man who cares passionately about the future of the United States, its slippery slide down the path of socialism, and the loss of the precious freedoms that he was blessed with before he became a father and a grandfather. The kind of man who cares deeply about the country that allowed a guy like him to build a successful small business, support his family, and provide jobs for others. The kind of man who, when government would not listen to him, ran for office so people like him–normal, hard working, patriotic citizens who pay their taxes, do not expect a handout from Uncle Sugar, and ask little from government other than to be left alone–would have a voice in government. He is a fighter for the common folks who live decent lives according to the Jeffersonian agrarian values they learned by living in the Midwest–where the center still holds. But if you knew Steve King, United States Congressman from the 5^th District of Iowa, or the reason he made the painful decision to miss his own son’s wedding earlier this month, then you would not be surprised at all. And to their own credit, his son, Mick, and Stephanie, his new bride, as well as the whole King family, understood perfectly well–above all, King is a man who cares as passionately for the future of his country as he does for his own family. And he understands better than most of the current occupants of the United States Congress, that family and country are inseparable–for as the fortunes of the country go, so go the fortunes of the King family and every other American family.

            Steve King missed his son’s wedding in order to attend the debate and vote on the House version of the National Health Care bill (a/k/a, Obama’s Universal Care for Health–O.U.C.H.) which recently passed by a razor thin margin of 220-215. It was the King family’s misfortune that the vote was scheduled by Nancy Pelosi on the date of his son’s wedding; however, the choice for King was clear: he could miss the vote, which was in fact so close that his, or any other, vote may well have been the deciding vote, and enjoy the company of his family; or stand up for freedom and against the encroachment of Big Government into every aspect of our lives and miss being with his loved ones. Had just two Democrats and one Republican voted against the O.U.C.H. bill, the result would have been just exactly the opposite, and the country would have been spared from the impending government takeover of one sixth of the economy–just as it has intruded into the auto industry, the financial industry, and, soon, the airwaves as well. 

            When I asked Congressman King candidly to explain his reasons for missing his boy’s wedding, his response was eloquent and moving:

“I’ve prayed with our troops and their families as they said good-by to those they loved the most and who gave their love “all-in” for God and liberty.  I’ve looked our veterans and families in the eye and thanked them for their sacrifice and embraced those whom I could comfort.  I’ve challenged every American to sacrifice to defend our Constitution and freedom whether in foreign lands or at home.

I’ve watched young men and women graduate whose fathers were deployed.  I’ve watched, at the airport gate, when the first soldier off a plane was handed his four month old daughter; pink ribbon in her hair.  I’ve stood and applauded as a rolling standing ovation followed the troops and the new dad who had missed the birth of his daughter.  I’ve met honor flights of WW II Veterans and walked among the stones of Arlington National Cemetery.

Anyone who has these images in their mind’s eye cannot consider skipping a vote against a freedom killing bill.  There were no good choices but there could only be one decision and that was to go “all-in” to kill the bill.”   

Congressman King’s stand was important–even if it did not save the day–and in doing so, he displayed the fierce determination to preserve our freedoms that has been the hallmark of his time in Congress. Hailing from a congressional district that is a leader in ethanol production, wind power, and agriculture, King has gained a reputation as an expert on alternative energy and agricultural issues. However, above all, his purpose is to lead the fight in Congress against the government takeover of every aspect of our lives. To his credit, he sees the ominous trend, when others are either blind or do not to care. He is the Left’s worst nightmare, and you can be sure that the Left will vigorously oppose him whenever he runs for office the next time. He is just that good and that effective.

While we are sorry he missed his son’s wedding, we are proud of him for doing so. And, none of us who know him are surprised.  Unlike many in Congress, Steve King understands one central and ominous truth above all: those precious freedoms that this country has enjoyed for over two centuries, bought by the sweat, toil, and blood of generations long passed, are disappearing in our time. And future generations of Kings may not live to see the freedoms for which Steve King is tirelessly fighting.

I love the things of fall—my favorite season. The chill in the air, the colorful foliage, the harvest; apples, squash and pumpkins. The golden sunsets, the Indian summers and the squawk of the blue jay, the squirrel rustling in the leaves and burying the nuts he will soon forget. And, next to the American Bittersweet—my favorite fall plant (See, Bittersweet Woods, Canada Free Press)—I love the ugly, curious and wonderfully wrinkled yellow-green oddity known as the “hedge ball” a/k/a “hedge apple”.

The curious fruit of the hedge tree grows in southern Iowa where I was raised. As with the beautiful bittersweet vine, we used to hunt the hedge balls as fall ornaments for the house. As a child, I was intrigued by this curious hard ball that served no apparent purpose, yet grew so prolifically from the trees along the dusty gravel roads and in the forests of southern Iowa.  But in time I learned that the lowly hedge ball had a higher purpose than serving as a fall decoration. And it was this higher purpose that gave rise to the myth–The Myth of Hedge Balls.

I was once told that, in the old days, farmers fed their hogs these hard, round sticky fruits which oozed a milky-white bitter juice when cut open or bruised; however, for the life of me, I could not imagine that even a hog–which eats anything–would touch these unpalatable balls. I knew a lot of farmers and no one I knew had ever done this. Perhaps this was what we called “an old wives tale.”  It seemed that this object had few utilitarian uses. They were hard enough to play baseball with–and would survive a few at bats before disintegrating. Or, I imagined they would fit nicely into the barrel of an 8 inch artillery piece. God only knows the use He intended for these, but they were fun to pick and they made a nice addition to the home, along with the bittersweet vine we treasured and the fall nuts and leaves we gathered on family outings.

Not long ago, the hedge balls of my youth resurfaced and brought to mind the legend–the legend of hedge balls and their mystical power to repel a certain insect pest. Driving along beautiful Highway 34 which runs east and west along southern Iowa, I was pleasantly surprised one fall afternoon to see one stretch of highway lined by dozens of hedge trees. Their leaves had turned fall colors and their branches were laden with bright yellow green fruits hanging like Christmas decorations, ready to fall into the ditches and meet an inglorious end. That is, unless some industrious person who realized their true potential bothered to gather them and market them for their mystical powers.  The wondrous yellow green balls hung by the hundreds from the trees in the fence line of the farm field adjoining the highway and contrasted beautifully the azure October sky as I drove to my next job. Had I the time and the inclination I would have stopped to fill my trunk with these fall beauties, for I knew their value in ways that many people did not. I was privy to the secret powers that they held.

Yes, I knew the value of these yellow green objects which would soon fall needlessly into the ditch to rot or be eaten by whatever brave animal with an iron stomach might want to snarf them down.  I knew that, had I a pick up and a little more time, I could sell these objects to some supermarket or hawk them from some dusty roadside stand–the kind they set up in the fall to sell produce, like squash or pumpkins or gourds. Yes, these little round beauties were actually known to fetch 60 cents a piece or more in some places, for it was said of the lowly hedge ball that it possessed some mystical powers. The lowly hedge apple had the mystical power to repel that noisiest of pests–the one that hides in the corner of the room under the cove strip or in the wall or in the corner of the hearth–chirping contentedly, close by, but undetectable…the cricket. 

Since my youth, I had heard from my mom, my aunts, and others of their generation the legend of the hedge ball and its magical power to evict crickets by its mere presence in the home. No one knew why of course; however, generations of believers had passed on the legend. And it had been repeated for years–put a hedge ball or two in the house and the crickets will stay away.  Yes, for reasons unknown to me, it was said to work every time. No one questioned the legend; after all, if your mom or your aunt told you, it must be true.

Who started the legend of the hedge ball and its repellant powers or when it was started is shrouded in the mists of history. What proof they had for the proposition is likewise unknown to me. Just how did this work anyway?  I wondered.  If you put one in the basement does it drive all crickets away–even the ones on the first floor? If you place one on the first floor will those in the basement leave the house as well? Just how many does it take to clear a house 1400 square feet on the main floor? Was there a magical “hedge ball per square foot ratio” which, if followed, would rid the house of crickets?  Just what is the effective range of these cricket-repellant spheres anyway?  How do they know there is a hedge ball in your house anyway? And, what happens if an unlucky cricket jumps through an open door and is trapped inside a house with a hedge ball or two?  Does he die?  Or does he remain in the house desperately seeking a way to get out?  Despite these and other imponderables I accepted the truth of the legend.  After all, how could all these prior generations be wrong? How could the produce manager at the local supermarket be wrong, when the sign attached to the 4 foot by 4 foot cardboard box holding hundreds of these hedge balls reads:

REPELS CRICKETS–60 CENTS EACH (NOT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION)?

Would your produce manager lie about such a thing? No, the legend was true; or, rather, as they say: “if it ain’t true it oughta be.”

But sometimes legends are debunked. I remember well the day that I discovered the myth of hedge balls. It was not as traumatic as learning there was no Santa Claus or that there was no Easter Bunny, but nearly so.  One fateful day I was cleaning my mother’s house and started to sweep her basement stairway. Following years of tradition and believing in the legendary power of the hedge balls, Mom had placed three hedge balls strategically on her basement stairway in order to prevent the inevitable cricket horde that would invade the basement without such protection. I began to sweep the stairs one at a time. When I came to the steps on which the hedge balls had been placed I bent over, picked up the hedge ball and moved it aside so I could reach the corner of the steps with the broom.  I leaned over to pick up the first hedge ball. To my shock, I found a cricket happily ensconced under the first legendary cricket repeller.  Could it be that all those years we had been misled? Could the legends passed down from our grandparents be wrong?

Alas, it seemed true. I called out to my mother and we shared a laugh at the fact that the first hedge ball had apparently lost its mystical powers.  This cricket was not only not repulsed by the hedge ball…he was using it as a shelter.  I swept up the cricket and threw him outdoors. I could not bear the thought of disturbing him from his cozy home only to squash him.  I proceeded down the stairway with my broom. I lifted up the second hedge ball. Thereunder I found the first cricket’s brother.  I yelled at Mom once more, telling her that her magical hedge balls were not working. Perhaps she got a bad batch, or this was just a coincidence. That two hedge balls in a row had lost their mystical powers seemed unlikely.  I threw out the second cricket as well. Chalking up this episode to coincidence, I swept a couple more stairs ad came to the last hedge ball. I bent over and moved that one as well–only to find their cousin underneath the third one. That three hedge balls in a row would lose their cricket fighting capabilities seemed a statistical impossibility.  I concluded that the legend of hedge balls was, in fact, a myth. This news will, of course, be unwelcome to many produce managers and to the International Hedge Ball Growers Association, as well as many people who hoped in the legend and bought hedge apples each year for their houses. But the sad truth remains: hedge balls do not repel crickets. In fact, the crickets rather enjoy them. They seek comfort under hedge balls, and the ones I met were perfectly content under their own little cricket shelters. After all, the only place we found any crickets in Mom’s house was underneath the hedge balls.

Legends die hard, and this one is no different.  But I have learned a valuable lesson from this experience. This year I am placing several hedge balls outside my house—to draw these little critters out.  After all, even crickets need homes.

The Woodcarver (Other Stories of Faith and Inspiration( (c) 2009 William Kevin Stoos 

Available at Tower.Com Books; Amazon.Com Books, Barnes and Noble.Com; and other top internet book sellers. The author’s royalites go to support the Carmelite nuns–who pray for us all.

By RENEE WEBB, Globe editor
(Email Renee)

If you judge others, you just might get it wrong.

A personal experience that taught that life lesson to Sioux City attorney William Kevin Stoos more than 30 years ago led to his becoming a freelance writer for various Catholic magazines.

The long-time Blessed Sacrament Church parishioner has compiled 24 of his cover and feature stories into a book titled The Woodcarver (And Other Stories of Faith and Inspiration).

“The stories are based on personal experiences through the prism of serendipity or what some people would call coincidence,” Stoos said. “My writing for the church has convinced me that I no longer believe in coincidence. As I say in the forward to my book, I think coincidence is the name God uses when he wants to remain anonymous.”

He said people and events are put in your path for a reason.

“We don’t always know it or understand it, but that certainly has been the case with me and others,” Stoos said. “I think there is something very big and powerful out there that you can tap into if you desire to. It’s the Holy Spirit.”

Sometimes these experiences are subtle, he noted, and sometimes “they hit you in the face.”

While the book highlights numerous stories where the writer gained a fresh and faith-filled perspective from everyday experiences, he explained that he chose The Woodcarver as the title because that was the event that motivated his faith-related writing. That particular short story is featured second in the book.

Back in the early 1970s, as a young soldier stationed in Germany he and fellow soldiers were out at a café when Stoos noticed a grizzled-looking older man.

“He was sitting at a table by himself, drinking a beer and smoking cigarettes. He was surrounded by the most beautiful statues of Mary and Jesus that I had ever seen in my life,” Stoos described.

The writer explained that the man kept staring at the one Black man in the group whose name was Charles. Stoos said it made him nervous because he believed that all of the old Germans who had fought in the war were racists.

“The lesson of the woodcarver was that Josef (the old man) invited us over to his table and bought us all a beer and spoke to us in German,” Stoos recalled. “I was the only German-speaker in the group so I was the translator. He kept staring at Charles and it made Charles and all of us uncomfortable.”

Eventually the man took Charles’ hand in his and said, “I love the Blacks.” The rugged old man explained that he had been captured by the Allies at Stalingrad in World War II and was imprisoned in the southern United States. He told the soldiers that the Blacks were the only ones who were friendly to him when he was held in captivity.

“That was a life-changing experience for me,” Stoos said. “It taught me a lot. It taught me never to stereotype anybody because invariably you are going to be wrong. It taught me that my conclusion about this grizzled, old, ex-Nazi was absolutely wrong. It shows how wrong you can be about people.”

In the end, Stoos purchased a statue of Mary and Jesus from the old man, who was a woodcarver.

“The other irony about it all is that these were carved from an oak beam of a bombed-out Catholic church that was 500 years old,” said Stoos.

He wrote down that story but didn’t submit it for some time.

Stoos, who had already been a published political columnist for several years, eventually submitted the short story of The Woodcarver to Liberty, a religious freedom magazine. He sold it to Liberty and gave the proceeds to the church. Not long after it was published, Stoos began to wonder if he could ever sell anything to The Catholic Digest and soon the call came from that prestigious publication. They had seen the article in Liberty and asked to republish it. Again, he gave the proceeds to the church as he has done with all of the proceeds from the inspirational works.

From there, numerous other inspirational stories flowed. He began to pay closer attention to his life experiences and view them through a prism of faith. While 24 stories are featured in the book, many more have been published in about 15 religious publications.

“I’m mystified. Very humbled by the whole thing,” he said.

Stoos said that while he is an attorney by profession, writing is his passion.

He noted that the first story featured in the book centers on an experience he had in Sioux City. After giving a coat to a crippled, lonely man whom in the dead of winter was always coatless, the man asked Stoos, “Are you a minister?”

“That incident really affected me,” said Stoos, who noted that this has been the most published of all his stories.

It has made him think about how even small gestures can impact the lives of others.

Other stories in The Woodcarver center on the beauty of nature, childhood experiences, the Carmelites, his thoughts on abortion and more. One story even centers on his experience at children’s Masses when his two children were attending Blessed Sacrament Grade School in Sioux City.

Stoos and his wife, Jean, are the parents of two grown children, Catherine and David. Both graduated from Bishop Heelan High School.

The Woodcarver is available at Trinity Heights gift shop and on various internet wholesale book sites. Stoos plans to donate proceeds from The Woodcarver to the Carmelites nuns in Sioux City.

“(The nuns) are just wonderful – totally selfless and dedicated,” he said. “They pray for people they don’t even know.”

-Satire-

“The Homeland Security Subcommittee on Emerging Threats, Cybersecurity, Science and Technology criticized the government’s handling of the swine flu epidemic, recently declared to be a ‘national emergency’ by President Obama” October 27, 2009

When ace reporter Hugh Betcha, Chief of the Public Health Bureau of the Stoos Views news conglomerate, visited his family doctor this week for a check up and seasonal flu vaccination, he was shocked to learn that the clinic had no flu vaccine. Neither did Walmart, Walgreens, the local hospital, the public health clinic, nor anyone else in town. In the Land of Hope and Change, where Uncle Sugar has promised to care for His people and administer their health care needs, it was impossible to believe that the country was already woefully short on the flu vaccine.

“We’ve been out of the seasonal flu vaccine for weeks,” his doctor replied, “no one else in town has it either. We hope to get some in two weeks.” 

“How about the swine flu stuff?” Hugh asked.

“Ditto there,” replied the doctor. “No one has that either.”

“Is the swine flu here?” Hugh pressed him further.

“Yup, ninety percent of the lab tests we send over have come back positive for H1N1, and not the seasonal flu. The seasonal flu does not seem to be here yet.  The swine flu is here with a vengeance and there is no vaccine; the seasonal stuff is not here yet, and neither is the vaccine.”

“Well, we can Hope for Change can’t we?” Hugh replied as he left the room.

Concerned, Hugh called his daughter Catherine, who was working at the Emergency Room of a small town hospital in God’s Country, South Dakota.

“Hey Doc, have you had your swine flu shot yet? “

“Are you kidding?” his daughter replied, “No one has had it.”

“What happened to Obama’s pledge that health care providers would get the vaccine first because they are the front lines in the fight against the pandemic and exposed to it every day?” Hugh pressed, concerned for his daughter who sees sick patients each day.

“It is a joke,” she replied.  “We may be the front line, but we have no defenses. Sort of like the Administration response to the War in Afghanistan: too little, too late, and just a lot of talk.”

Concerned about the Administration’s lack of any meaningful or timely response to what Obama recently declared a ‘national emergency’ Hugh did what he does best: he went straight to the top. A man who moves easily through the corridors of power in Washington because of his reputation as a tough minded, but fair journalist, Hugh hopped on a plane and headed to Foggy Bottom to meet with Senator Harry (We Know What is Best for the Taxpayers Even If They Don’t) Reid to get some answers.

Hugh was ushered into Reid’s impressive Senate office. There he was met by Senator Reid, who sported a surgical mask and latex gloves.

“What’s up with that?” Hugh inquired of Reid’s get up.

“Well, between the smelly tourists walking through this place, and the flu epidemic, you just can’t be too careful nowadays,” Reid replied in a muffled voice. “I wear this all the time now.”

Hugh got down to business immediately.

“Senator, how long has the Government known about the pending threat of a swine flu epidemic?”

“Well, about a year or so, but you know, we are working diligently on the problem,” he assured the reporter. “Why just the other day we got our supply in.”

“What do you mean?”

“All members of the House and Senate who so desire, have been vaccinated against the seasonal flu and the swine flu. We got ours already. We have our own private clinic of course.”

“What about pregnant mothers, young people, and health care providers out there in middle America who are at risk right now?”

“Don’t worry, theirs is coming. I am confident that we will have several million doses out there in no time, so some of the common folks can get it too. I can’t discuss the details, you know.”

“Yeah, but Senator, you have had over a year to anticipate the crisis and react to it. There are already over one thousand deaths in this country from the swine flu.”

“We sympathize with them certainly, but you have to understand that the Government is reacting to the crisis and we are on top of the situation. Just the other day the President declared a national emergency, so the situation is well in hand.”

“When do you expect the remainder of the hundred fifty million or more doses that the government promised earlier this year?”

“Well, like the terms of our National Health Care Public Option that I am working on right now, I cannot get into the details. But trust me, we are working on it. We know what is best for the people. Thirty million down and one hundred twenty million to go…we will make it eventually. ”

“Can you explain, Senator, why it is that the First Family and members of the House and Senate got their vaccine when health care workers, pregnant mothers and young people still do not have theirs as yet?”

“Well the answer is obvious,” the Senator scowled, “we in the Governing Class, are busy passing legislation, regulating the people’s lives, raising taxes, spending your money, and inventing new ways to control your lives and make them better. It is imperative that we remain healthy so we can run the Government. Can you imagine if Congress came down with the swine flu and we could not conduct business in Washington for weeks on end? What a tragedy that would be!”

“What is the status of the Obama Universal Coverage for Health (O.U.C.H.) legislation that you are pushing in the Senate?” Hugh inquired.

“Of course, I cannot get into the details.”

“Has anyone in the Senate even read the proposed draft of your public option bill?”

“No, and it is not necessary at this point. I have the situation well in hand. Once again, I cannot get into the details.”
“What happens when the Government controls every aspect of our health care?” Hugh asked.

“I promise you this: universal Government health care will be every bit as effective as the Government’s program to combat the swine flu,” Reid replied, confidently.

With that, the reporter thanked Senator Reid for his time, and, full of Hope, left the room.

 By William Kevin Stoos  Monday, October 5, 2009

Senate Majority Leader Harry (“Just Kidding When I Told You I Hope Your Newspaper Goes Out of Business” Reid), who for years has been afflicted with a Tourette’s-like illness which compels him to insult politicians, fellow Nevadans, American citizens, and respected military leaders, has decided to seek emergency medical treatment, according to America’s most trusted news source—Hugh Betcha. Chief Political Correspondent for the Stoos Views news conglomerate and long time confidante of the Majority Leader, Hugh was invited to the office of Senator Reid for a private discussion about the Senator’s health, before the official announcement was released to the press.

Upon entering the room, the reporter noticed the overpowering, sickening sweet odor of Glade cinnamon air fresheners strategically placed around the Senator’s office.  “What is up with that?” Hugh asked his friend.

“Oh, nothing,” the Senator replied, “just use those to cover the stench of the stinky tourists, who visit the Capitol, you know. Especially those right wing Christians—they smell the worst.”

Taken aback by the remark, Hugh discreetly sniffed his own armpits to ensure he did not offend the Senator.

“Don’t worry,” Reid assured him, “you are the fairest guy in the world, certainly not a damned Christian right winger. You smell fine. Sit down, please.”

“How are you feeling, Sir,” the reporter inquired.

“Well, I am generally fine, except when I have to deal with people,” he responded, looking down at his desk. “It seems that I have a problem in that regard,“ he conceded.

“Such as?”  Hugh inquired.

“You know, like when I insulted Bush 43 and his mother by implying that his mother was a b*** and W was just like him. Or the times I called W a “liar” and a “loser.”

“Well, I am sure you were just having a bad day,” the reporter said, reassuringly.

“Yeah, except I seem to have a lot of those. Like when I called Justice Clarence Thomas (a black man as you know) an embarrassment…”

“Well….”

“…or the time I referred to Marine General Peter Pace as incompetent….”

“Yeah, but everyone makes a mistake or two….”

“…or when I called Alan Greenspan a ‘political hack’ who attends too many cocktail parties, or insulted those ‘smelly tourists’ who tour the Capitol Building, or referred to anyone who protests Obama’s policies as ‘evil mongers,’ you know.”

“About the Las Vegas Review-Journal…”

“Yeah,” Reid interrupted, “I probably should never have told the guy that I hope his paper goes out of business. Sometimes I just can’t help myself.”

“What is the problem?” Betcha pressed the Senator.

“Well, it turns out that I really cannot help it…”

“Meaning?”

“…I saw doctors at Walter Reed, as well as at the Office of the Attending Physician here in the Capitol, for a second opinion. We get free medical you know. Turns out this is not my fault at all.”

“Please explain.”

“Well, my doctors all agreed that I have an unusual condition. Sadly, I was born without a personality.  It is rare, but true. This explains why I insult my fellow citizens, respected newspapers, military heroes, people’s mothers, black judges, and everyone else, with equal abandon. I cannot help it—it just comes out. I have no scruples, no discretion, no compassion-that it why I walk around with a sour hang dog look all the time. It is humiliating. I have had kids point at me on the street and tell their parents they want my autograph….”

“Why?”

“They confuse me with Droopy Dog…so embarrassing.”

“Geeze, I am so sorry. What are your plans?”

“Well, sometime before the 2010 senatorial election in Nevada, I am scheduled to undergo a personality transplant. They tell me that I will become warm and fuzzy, compassionate, discrete, treat others with respect, and become a generally good guy. I may even learn to smile now and then.”

“When is this scheduled?”

“Well, they need to find a donor first. It is hard to find one among the Democrats in the Senate.”

Asked what he plans to do if he is defeated in the upcoming 2010 election in Nevada, which pits him against several attractive Republican candidates—any one of whom beats him in the polls and each of whom has a personality—he responded:

“Motivational speaker.”

William Kevin Stoos Most recent columns

Copyright © 2009 William Kevin Stoos
The author of Stoos Views is a freelance writer, book reviewer, and attorney, whose feature and cover articles have appeared in Carmelite Digest,  Family Digest, Nature Conservancy Magazine, Liberty Magazine, Encyclopedia Britannica Online. He is a regular contributing author for The Bread of Life Magazine in Canada. His review of Shadow World, by COL. Robert Chandler, propelled that book to best seller status in the category of international politics and foreign affairs. His book, The Woodcarver (And Other Stories of Faith and Inspiration) © 2009, William Kevin Stoos (Strategic Publishing Company)—a collection of feature and cover stories on matters of faith—was just released in July of 2009. Royalties from that book go to support the Carmelites. He resides in Wynstone, South Dakota.

NPR: Nuanced Partisan Reportage

 By William Kevin Stoos  Thursday, October 1, 2009

National Public Radio—financed partially with public funds and partially through individual and corporate donations—in theory has a rule that its reporters may not engage in politics.  Having listened to NPR and a variety of other news outlets for years (in order to attain some semblance of perspective and balance) and having admittedly donated money to my local NPR station in the past, I have noticed a disturbing trend in their national reportage.

It is apparent that NPR’s alleged prohibition against engaging in politics is more honored in the breach than the observance. In divers and subtle ways, NPR skews the news, and has become a partisan ProBama cheerleader. While far more low key than MSNBC (Most Sycophants Nuzzling Barack Constantly), ABC (All Barack Channel), NBC (National Barack Channel) and CBS (Covering Barack Seriously)—NPR has, nonetheless, proved the truth of the old saw, “It is not what you say, but how you say it.”  Put simply, by inflection, nuance, and selective emphasis, NPR can and does, affect and mold public opinion. It can, in fact, be political without appearing so, and support liberal causes while pretending to be non-partisan. 

During the 2008 presidential campaign, I awoke at 6:00 a.m. to listen to the early morning NPR report—as was my routine. The candidates had been debating the War in Iraq—McCain arguing that the United States should stay the course and inject more troops into the battle; Obama campaigning on the promise to get the United States out of the war as quickly as possible, within months after he was elected.  A chorus of Democrat senators had shamelessly pronounced that the war in Iraq was “lost “ (Harry “Only Kidding When I Said I Hope You Go Out of Business” Reid among them) which , of course, must have done wonders for the morale of those brave young troops who were fighting and winning in Iraq. Such was the debate raging in the United States at the time. As I rolled over to catch a couple more minutes of half sleep, I listened with one ear to the NPR broadcast. What I heard was curious and disconcerting.

During the next twenty minutes or so, NPR broadcast at least four stories in a row, which—if one harbored suicidal ideation—might have sent him or her over the edge.  It seems there was no good news in the world this date and all was indeed lost in Iraq. The first story dealt with the declining number of volunteers at recruitment centers around the country. It seems that the military, according to NPR, could not meet its enlistment quotas.  Okay, that was not good, but certainly, there was something positive happening somewhere right? But alas, that was not to be.

The second story covered the fact that the caliber of enlistees in the service was declining and, in effect, the military was resorting to a waiver of certain educational or other qualifications in order to maintain the military.  This, of course, brought to mind that famous insult by Senator John Kerry to the effect that, “if you can’t make it in college you can go to Iraq,” which was an affront to thousands of patriotic troops who were there not because they lacked intelligence, but because they loved the country and met the call to defend it against those who declared war on us.  But the bad news did not end there.

The next story I recall, was the increase in the number of Americans killed in Iraq that month. News of course—and tragic news—but this third story in a row got me thinking: who is producing this stuff—the Democratic National Committee? Obama for President? Of course, this too was news, but there was no doubt that these stories were designed to convey to the public the sense that all is lost in Iraq and it was time to go. Who would benefit from that?  Was this news coverage political in nature?  Certainly, it helped one candidate who happened to be arguing in favor of an early withdrawal and in favor of a party that declared, “all is lost in Iraq.” However, the bad news did not end there.

Just as I hoped against hope to hear something positive, NPR finished with one last story: Civilian casualties were on the rise in Iraq.  In sum, according to Nuanced Partisan Radio: “We were running out of troops, they are being killed quicker than we can recruit them, they are getting dumber and dumber every day, and we are killing a lot of civilians over there.  Obama himself could not have scripted better new coverage for his campaign. Yet, if you paid no particular attention to the order of these stories or the theme than ran throughout, you might well not have noticed this subliminal message that all is lost and it is time to leave Iraq—just as Obama said.

However, the nuanced and subtly political coverage has not abated. During the recent health care debate and the town hall meetings held this past summer, during the congressional recess, NPR’s ProBama bent was never more apparent. I listened intently to their news coverage on the town hall meetings. In each and every instance when the NPR anchors described the citizens who spoke at the town hall meetings—sometimes in loud and vehement tones (which some might dare call, spirited debate)—they were referred to as “right wing” protestors. [sic] It seems the NPR reporters could not find any other adjectives to describe those who dared to argue against the proposed Obama Universal Coverage for Health (O.U.C.H.). They were not citizens, or concerned Americans, or members of the public, or taxpayers or middle class Americans. Nope, in each and every instance, the adjective of choice employed by Nuanced Partisan Radio was “right wing” protestors.  Through the liberal use of the adjective “right wing’ by NPR and the other ProBama media since the health care debate began, any and all protest against the takeover of health care, the banks, the auto industry, and all other facets of American life by the Obama administration has become synonymous with “right wing.” The longer the press hums this mantra, the more it becomes engrained in the American psyche, and soon everyone is humming it.  And, in time, protest itself or criticism of The Great One becomes something evil.

I hoped I was wrong. Maybe the use of the adjective “right wing” every time NPR described the health care debaters was just an aberration. Then I happened to hear a broadcast by NPR, again at 6:00 a.m., concerning the September 12, 2009 gathering in Washington, D.C.  A friend of mine, Dr. Tom Cook, an articulate, intelligent, patriotic American who served with valor in Vietnam, sent me a wonderful note about the gathering in D.C., which was touching and insightful:

“What struck me was the number of families present at the rally. There were many fathers and mothers with their children. There were people of all races present. The crowd was upbeat, happy, and not the least bit menacing. They were a huge gathering of great Americans of every stripe and physical attribute. There were many in wheelchairs, babies in mothers’ arms, and many gray heads. There were conservatives, liberals, democrats, republicans and libertarians. However, had you polled them, they would undoubtedly have said they were first, and foremost, Americans. They were the heart and soul of America and incontrovertible proof of how out of touch the media and the government are. These folks just wanted their representatives to listen to them—they wanted the government to stop the trampling of their constitutional rights. They left their jobs to travel from all over the country to gather in protest against what they perceived as the ruination of our country by a government that is no longer listening to them.”

These folks—between one and two million strong—represented a cross section of America, and included, among others, a black woman who had also served as an Obama delegate to the Democrat Convention in 2008. The gathering was not organized by any particular group or political persuasion, but was, rather, brought together by a common concern over the direction their county was taking.

Knowing this information from a trusted source who was actually there and mingled with the crowd,  I listened with interest as the NPR reporter once again described the crowd as a group of “conservatives,” (yes, you guessed it) “organized by right wing groups.” [sic] Apparently, NPR—unbeknownst to the rest of us—had conducted a poll of all of those million plus persons who showed up to demonstrate against the threat of government oppression, which affects all of us equally and threatens our individual liberties, and concluded that all—each and every one—was a “conservative” or “right winger.”  Clearly, no bias or generalizing here.

It is fair to ask:  “Who benefits from this constant nuanced partisan reportage?” Who benefits whenever concerned citizens who oppose Obama for whatever reason are trivialized by NPR and dismissed as “right wingers” or “conservatives?”  NPR is too free with such adjectives and seemingly can find no others. You can be political without being political—so long as you are subtle and nuanced. We can only hope that this important news source might some day call things down the middle, rather than emphasizing that which only benefits the current regime in Washington.  But I am not holding my breath. And, (though I daresay they will not feel the pinch), until they find other adjectives to describe decent Americans who sincerely oppose Obama’s policies, they have seen my last nickel.

[Dedicated to COL Bob, the Bear, Bryan, and Dr. Tom, patriots all, who are, somewhere, this day, solving all the country’s problems.]

Copyright (c) 2009 William Kevin Stoos

Recently, Jimmah Carter, arguably the worst President in history, who brought us:

• Blindfolded American hostages paraded before the world press by a rogue regime in Iran (whose current president, of course, was one of the hostage takers);

• Helicopters crashing in the desert, and eight brave young Americans dying in the sand during an ill-conceived, abortive rescue mission which became symbolic of the Carter presidency;

• Oppressive home mortgage interest rates as high as twenty-one percent (21%);

• Billy Beer—a cheap swill shamelessly hawked by Jimmah’s brother Billy, who embarrassed the county and the president with inane TV commercials and half-sober interviews with the press,

and who distinguished himself by becoming the only President in recent history to openly and shamelessly criticizing a sitting President, went on another of his famous (and ineffectual) trips to bring peace to the Middle East. Why the Israelis would trust Jimmah—whose organization has accepted hundreds of thousands of dollars from the Arab lobby and who considers Hamas and Hezbollah “Freedom Fighters”—God only knows.

Jimmah’s pro-Arab inclination was never more evident than during a recent interview with a certain ProBama cable channel reporter which I happened to hear on the news one evening on the way home from work.  The reporter asked Jimmah:  “What are the prospects for peace in the Middle East?”  The former President replied:  “There is a lot of pessimism in the Middle East right now.” When the reporter pressed Jimmah as to what can be done to bring peace to the Middle East, Jimmah responded: ”We are praying for the end to the Israeli settlements….” Period. Now, of course, I waited with bated breath for him to finish what I expected to be a complete thought—you know, some symmetrical, diplomatic response to sort of round out the interview and show the slightest semblance of balance. But alas, it never came.

You know…the rest of the sentence like: “We are praying for an end to the Israeli settlements… and that Hamas and Hezbollah will stop arming themselves with thousands of missiles purchased from the Bazalt weapons works in Russia with Iranian funding.”

Or, perhaps even:  “We are praying for and end to the Israeli settlements… and that Hamas and Hezbollah will change their charters which call for the destruction of Israel and decry all efforts at negotiations with Israel as foolishness.”

Yeah, something like that. But, not so surprisingly, Jimmah—who has become an unapologetic shill for the radical Arab lobby—just cannot bring himself to pray for an end to the violence perpetuated against this tiny island of democracy and our only true friend in the Middle East. Nope, if only Israel would stop the settlements, all will be well in the Middle East. Forget about the three thousand missiles purchased by the terrorist groups who Jimmah champions and are sworn to destroy Israel. Forget about the Iranian President who continually denies the Holocaust and who threatens Israel with nuclear annihilation. We need not worry about them or pray that they have a change of heart.

Jimmah has become irrelevant, shrill, and incredible. Until he prays for true peace, and for real change on both sides of the dispute, his one-sided prayers are hollow, his words as dry and lifeless as the desert sand.