Peggy Noonan and the Third Party

Peggy Noonan has a wonderful op-ed in the Wall Street Journal about the idea that America is teetering on the edge of being ready for a third policital party. Certainly worth reading. In a nutshell, she points out that that there is no real divide between the two parties in DC. They are relatively identical in terms of spending, immigration issues (Ted Kennedy and George Bush in complete agreement) and general thoughts on response/non-response to terror. On traditionally more divisive issues such as same-sex marriage, the parties are simply embarrassed rather than principled.

The real divide is between those in Washington and those who do not live in Washington. The American people are concerned about rampant spending, immigration and issues of national security. Much more concerned than the politicrats in Washington.

What would a third party look like?

The Gold Hills of Summer

The hills are finally starting to gold here. They do that every year in preparation for summer, putting aside the green and flowers of the early year to settle into the long, dry seriousness of June, July and August. If you gaze at them hard enough, they start to look like sleeping lions, all taut and tawny with the hard, muscular curves of the hills, the little valleys carved into their sides like the depressions of gaunt flanks.

It'll rain soon enough in the fall, and then they'll go green again and the lions will be gone. Beautiful in either state. I guess you should never take any of these things for granted, for who knows if you won't see them again?

Muggeridge's Chronicles of Wasted Time

I'm currently reading a wonderful, marvelous book. Malcom Muggeridge's auto-biography: Chronicles of Wasted Time. Muggeridge was a British journalist, writer, TV personality, etc., who was born in the early 1900s and had his run through the World War and the subsequent Cold War. His writing is full of sharp and sudden insights. I haven't read a book like this in a long time...better than refreshing.

It's odd how quickly I forget what good writing is like. I've obviously been reading too many thrillers and writing that really isn't writing but is just typing (I forget who coined that? Shaw? One of those cynical British minds from the earlier part of the century.).

Our Bodies Are Traitors

Our bodies are traitors. It's as simple as that. For years and years, they trot along happily with us, jumping when we jump, running when we run, sleeping when we sleep, downing vast ice cream sundaes when we do the same. Yet, all the while, they very well might be plotting insurrection.

And then, one day, the revolution occurs.

Obviously, our bodies are little commies. Leftists. Because, when we die, they shall be left in the grave.

Okay, okay - that was a horrible attempt at punning. Perhaps my brain has revolted as well?