My brilliant campaign commercial idea

Yeah, okay, I don't know a thing about campaigning or commercials, this is just an ad I would enjoy. Start off with an old timey, Ken Burns style retelling of Davey Crockett's "Not Yours to Give" speech , then have an announcer or Bobby Jindal or someone say, "Giving your money to the needy is charity. Giving your neighbor's money to the needy is theft." Then close with the following words on the screen, read by the announcer, too: "Vote charity. Vote Republican."

I know, never gonna happen, but it would be great, and it would really drive liberals mad. And then if they made a big deal out of it you could run a follow-up ad with the stats about how you would never know it to hear Obama and friends talk, but Americans are by far the most charitable people in the world, and how Republicans are more charitable than Democrats. Maybe even throw something in showing a clip about Joe Biden talking how important and patriotic it is to pay high taxes to help the poor, and then flash on the screen while he's talking the numbers of how Biden gave a total of like five bucks and a smile to charity in his whole life.

Catching Up

Very slowly catching up on my blog reading. This is hilarious. Poor Moxie; as much as it enlivens her blog and radio show, she sure does live in a messed-up neighborhood.

And I was going to write a rant about the self-service check-in at airports (I spent more than 30 hours in the air this past weekend, no joke), but Prof Althouse beat me to it. I will grant that the Vancouver Airport is simply wonderful, and the people there super-helpful. But Montreal's Trudeau airport? Oh dear Lord. In addition to being incredibly ugly, it's full of super-rude people just like in the Prof's post (except, even worse, they're French!). Anyway, all of us poor travellers go to line up at the counter as usual, but the lady tells us all to scram, to go use the computerized check-in (used to be you could choose to use the counter if you wanted to, but no more). And then we even had to tag our own bags while the lady just stood there and watched us like we were idiots (which, when it comes to checking baggage, I am - since, unlike that lady, it's not my damn job!). Naturally, between self-check computer issues and sticker trouble (yes, yes, feel free to bust out the '..and you went to Harvard???' line, but the instructions were confusing, I tell you! there was a thin layer on top of the adhesive that said in one corner 'Do Not Stick Here,' so I didn't - I took that layer off before sticking. Apparently, this is wrong), most people ended up having to go line up at the counter for help anyway. Totally absurd experience.

Well, that's all the catching up for now, goodnight!

UPDATE: I almost forgot (um, language warning):

You can take the looter out of New Orleans..

This post (and the linked article) over at Relapsed Catholic brought back some memories.

My dad visited New Orleans once, years ago. He was headed to dinner at a place about two blocks away; so close that, as he tells it, he could clearly see the steakhouse sign from the hotel lobby, practically smell the beef. Even so, the concierge all but forced him to go by cab - they assured him, if he risked the walk, he would be taking his life in his hands!

And a friend of mine at college told me his family owned part of an apartment building in Texas. After Katrina, the other owners wanted to open the place up as a free shelter for refugees, like other buildings in the neighborhood, but his family refused. They had spent their fair share of time in New Orleans, it seems, and wanted none of it. Sure enough, a year goes by, and the once furious co-owners are falling over themselves to thank the uncharitable holdouts for saving them from the (oh-so-very natural) disaster that has befallen all the other poor, kind-hearted, naive (or perhaps not so naive, but unwilling to appear mean or racist) landlords in the area: property destruction, crime, the usual. Theirs is apparently one of the few buildings in the area that didn't become a dangerous slum.

I'll admit, I don't know if I could turn refugees away myself. I wouldn't exactly have sympathy for those who come begging, but I'd probably welcome 'em, write the building off, and throw another log onto my growing martyr complex. But I certainly won't hold it against those who take a less fatalistic view, who see not Mary and Joseph seeking shelter, but Breau and Broussard seeking silverware, and who decide to close (and lock!) the door.

Incidentally, this reminds me of one of my very last encounters before leaving Cambridge. I was in the bank to close my account, and, to my great bemusement, found myself waiting in line behind one of the local homeless. He hangs out right outside CVS in the Square, and I've given him change a few times. Now here I was in line behind him as he filled out some form and talked to the teller about his apartment. Yes, his apartment. 'Homeless' beggars with bank accounts and bachelor pads - not bad if you can get it!