Heh. Free speech is way over-rated when you have a black man in the White House and you write a poem that includes the words “DIE negro DIE” in it. On a “white supremacy” blog site. In fact, it can get you get prosecuted. Now if it said “DIE whitey DIE” it would probably be contained in a typical sermon by Rev. Wright, and if you listened to it for twenty years, you too could be elected President. And let’s not forget how the left treated Bush.
want some fries with that?
I’m not condoning the sentiment or the so-called white supremacist web site or the author of the poem, but what part of “Congress shall make no law… abridging the freedom of speech” doesn’t that judge understand? Just as the other constitutional rights are protected at the edges, so too is the freedom of speech. Our rights as law-abiding citizens are no better than the foulest criminal. If the cops can break in the door to foil a drug dealer or a child molester, they can break down your door or mine. If they can prosecute a racist over a stupid ass poem, they can prosecute you or me for writing about it on a blog that nobody reads.
You can never have too much Rule 5.
“All the Irish do is get drunk and sing sad songs about dropping dead. Once a year, we let them march down the street, all boozed up on their disgusting warm brown beer. Then they stuff themselves with potatoes and cabbage and stink up the place!…” [Yeah? What’s yer point!?]
“What have the Irish ever done for America? They stuck us with those damn Kennedys, that’s what. Between their Old Man the crooked bootlegger, down to fat Teddy boy, that family is an embarrassment, not to mention a danger to public safety! Ralph Nader fellow should’ve left General Motors alone and gone after the Kennedys. The [Kennedy’s] cars should have warning labels instead of bumper stickers….”
That said, I’m a good 1/4 Irish (mebbe more– me ma’s da was adopted and of questionable lineage, so it could be as high as 1/2) AND I WILL be joining in the festivities today. The Kennedys be damned!
From Raw Story: Man and girl friend have “loud sex” in the privacy of his own home. Cops come to investigate the screams. Man and woman tell them what was going on, but they entered his house and searched it anyway without a warrant. The cops find marijuana plants, and charge him. He tries to have the evidence suppressed. Court rules “screams” from “loud sex” gave cops “probable cause” to search without a warrant. Man gets ten years.
This is wrong on so many levels…Pot should not be illegal. Growing it should not be a ten year sentence. Cops should not have the right to bust in your door because they hear screams: could be sex, could be childs’ play, could be just having fun. Get a warrant.
And the Court accepting cops’ argument is just plain dumb. This makes it almost illegal to scream in your own house. Sure, if you aren’t doing anything illegal, you won’t be arrested. But who the hell wants cops to have open season to rummage through their house?
Corned beef, rutabaga, potatoes, carrots, cabbage and onions on the stove a bilin’ and Guinness Stout on draft a coolin’ and John Doe can’t a waitin’! IMPORTANT UPDATE: Science has discovered that Guinness Stout defies gravity, or something like that.
I do most of the cookin’ in this household. I finish off the corned beef by coating it in sweet mustard and broiling it to brown the sauce. Afterwards, we might go down the street and listen to some of the Irish bands in Innsbrook. It don’t get any better than this. I’m gettin’ all flushed with anticipation, I tell ya, just thinkin’ about it!
Here is one of the best versions I’ve ever heard.
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer’s gone, and all the flowers are dying
‘Tis you, ’tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow ‘
Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.
And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You’ll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an “Ave” there for me.
And I shall hear, tho’ soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you’ll not fail to tell me that you love me
I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.