Holmes: My dear Dr. Watson, whatever do you make of today’s vote in the Senate?
Watson: Er, peculiar. Four budgets up for a vote, all of them fail. Kind of bad legislating, isn’t it?
Holmes: Yes, quite. But look at how peculiar the loss was. Look at these vote totals:
The Ryan Budget: 57 nos, 40 ayes. No Democrats voted “aye,” and five Republicans — Brown, Collins, Murkowski, Paul, and Snowe — voted no. Paul voted “no” because the bill doesn’t go far enough.
The Obama Budget: 97 nos. You read that right. No “ayes.” It was nice of Democrats to tee up an embarrassment of their own, to go with the other embarrassments.
The Toomey Budget: 55 nos, 42 ayes. Only Brown, Collins and Snowe voted against it. Why the difference? Toomey’s budget didn’t touch Medicare, and balanced the budget in nine years through big discretionary spending cuts.
The Paul Budget: 90 nos, 7 ayes. Only Coburn, DeMint, Hatch, Lee, McConnell, Paul, and Vitter voted for this libertarian dream of a budget, which cuts (non-defense) spending to 2008 levels and levels the Departments of Commerce, Energy, Education, and Hud.
What do you make of it, Watson?
Watson: Well, that Obama budget sure didn’t look very popular. Dead last, absolutely no votes.
Holmes: Very good, Watson. A Democratic President, Obama, can’t get a single Democratic Senator in a Democratically controlled Senate to vote for his plan.
Watson: Well, perhaps he’s just not that good at government.
Holmes: The president of the United States not being good at government? Are you sure?
Watson: Well, isn’t it bleeding obvious?
Holmes: Oh, quite. But you don’t need me, Sherlock Holmes, to tell you that. There’s something more afoot here. What of the Democratic Senators that wouldn’t back their own president?
Watson: Well, they’re United States Senators. They can’t always be partisans, now, can they?
Holmes: You’re getting warmer.
Watson: I am?
Holmes: Yes. Senators are partisans, but what’s often more important to them than a president of their own party?
Watson: Money? Power? Doing the right thing?
Holmes: [Bangs head against wall] No, Watson. Reelection! That’s what’s on the mind of these Senators.
Watson: I don’t understand. How does humiliating their own president help Democratic Senators get reelected?
Holmes: If their president is sure to be reelected himself, there is no reason for them to humiliate him, and indeed there would be every reason to show some loyalty. Presidents are quite capable of punishing people who vote against them on a whim. No, Watson, something has got them spooked. They’re afraid that he’s going down, and they’re trying to put some distance between themselves and him so they don’t go down with him.
Watson: So they’re like rats leaving a sinking ship?
Holmes: Not quite: the rats have more honor.
Hubbard posted this at 8:00 PM HKT on Wednesday, May 25th, 2011 as The Democratic Congress, Vignettes, Walking the Cat Backwards
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In an interesting article, the WaPo crunches the numbers on post-Heller DC gun registrations. More specifically, on what kind of person has taken advantage of the new system. Their findings:
In all of the neighborhoods east of the Anacostia River – a broad swath of the city with more than 52,000 households, many of them in areas beset by poverty and drug-related violence – about 240 guns have been registered…
In the 20016 Zip code, encompassing some of the District’s wealthiest enclaves in upper Northwest, 151 firearms have been registered. That is more than 10 percent of the citywide gun total in an area with about 14,000 households, according to U.S. Census data.
No other residential Zip code in Washington has seen as big an influx of legal guns since the ban was ruled unconstitutional…
In the District’s poorest, most crime-scarred precinct, Ward 8 in far Southeast, residents have registered about 140 guns. In Ward 3 in upper Northwest, where the violent-crime rate is nearly 10 times lower and the average family income is more than five times higher, about twice as many firearms have been registered.
It’s open to conjecture why residents in some of the District’s toughest neighborhoods have registered fewer guns than people in other parts of the city. D.C. police Lt. Jon Shelton, head of the firearms registration unit, said it could be simple economics.
“You have to figure, what are legitimate guns costing now?” he said. “A basic revolver is going for $350 or $400. And you’re talking about $650, $700 for a quality 9 millimeter. So who’s got that kind of money to just throw out there for a gun?
“Legitimate people I’m talking about now. A lot of them, these days, they’re having a hard enough time putting food on the table for their kids.”
Allow me to conjecture: the cost in time and money of getting licensed by the District is prohibitive to most working-class people; indeed prohibitive to anyone who doesn’t have hundreds of dollars and lots of time to spare.
I discovered this for myself I went through a similar process last year in Massachusetts. In order to get the standard Class-A License to Carry Firearms* and be able to take it to a gun range to shoot, one needs to:
- Attend a state-approved Basic Firearms Safety course;
- Attend an orientation at a gun club;
- Be interviewed by the local police department during regular business hours, and;
- If approved, pick up the license about five weeks later, again during regular business hours.
Putting aside the question of whether or not this is good policy, let me just relate how costly it was. The safety course took up an afternoon and cost $150. Attending my local gun club’s orientation and becoming a provisional member cost me another afternoon and an additional $175. The police interview and license application required me to take a few hours off of work and $100, and I then had to take more time off of work to retrieve my license in person after it was approved (the PD would not mail it to me). That’s $425, two afternoons, and two late-arrivals at work just to be able to purchase a handgun. That almost doubles the dollar cost of a cheap revolver and — factoring in time — probably doubles the cost of a semi-automatic.
Compared to DC, though, Massachusetts comes off looking like a bargain. As the Post’s own Christian Davenport discovered last year, the equivalent process in the District costs $830 and nearly two full working days. Again, this is simply to acquire a license from the District and does not include the cost of purchasing a firearm which — by the by — also cannot be done without traveling out of DC. When all is said and done, it’s impossible to legally purchase a handgun in DC without spending anything less than $1,100 and giving up about three days of one’s time.
As a non-married man with no kids, a middle-class, salaried job, and a boss willing to let me trade a late evening for a late morning, the Massachusetts process was more annoying than onerous; I was in no particular hurry, had few responsibilities to anyone beside myself, an accommodating employer, and I could afford it. I could have afforded the DC process as well, though not easily.
It takes little imagination to see how these requirements make gun ownership well beyond the means of anyone who works for a lower hourly wage, especially if he or she has dependents. So while everyone has the theoretical right to a constitutional right, the District has set up a system with such onerous rules and high costs that only the marginally well-off have any chance of actually exercising it.
Post-Reconstruction, that’s not how our Constitution works. Though Heller made it clear that regulations are perfectly compatible with the 2nd Amendment, there’s a certain level of difficulty and cost that makes a less about regulating a right for society’s benefit and more about doing everything legally permissible to stop them from exercising constitutionally protected rights. Unsurprisingly, the latter is exactly how DC Council Chairman Vincent C. Gray phrased the matter when he said that the District “going to have the strictest handgun laws the Constitution allows.”
If this is substantively different from the District creating a byzantine and expensive licensing process to attain a 1st Amendment permit — though car licensing makes for a better comparison in terms of potential for physical harm, necessity of skill, and cost, James Madison did not include it in his list of proposed amendments — I’m unable to see it.
* A somewhat misleading name. Basically, “carry” denotes everything from concealed carry to traveling to a gun range with the weapon locked, unloaded, and disassembled in the trunk of my car. Each of these licenses contains a list of restrictions, spelling out under what circumstances one may carry (e.g., to the gun range to target shoot); in practice, a “unrestricted” license is virtually identical from a conceal-and-carry license in other states. One’s restrictions are determined by the local police department, who are given wide discretion in these matters.
Tom posted this at 12:59 PM HKT on Friday, February 11th, 2011 as Denizens of DC, Liberty and/or Security, Vignettes
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Jay Nordlinger here reminisces about meeting an immigrant cab driver in Dallas. Which reminded me of a ride I took with an immigrant cab driver in Houston.
He was a large black gentlemen with an accent I couldn’t place. He asked me what I did and I foolishly said that I was a law student in town to interview for a job. I need to come up with a boring alternate persona, because when you say you’re a law student or a lawyer, everyone wants to talk about their legal issues.
This guy was no different. He’d been ripped off by a defense lawyer, says he. He and his wives (!) were from Ghana, and he didn’t really understand the American system, says he. He’d been charged with beating his wife, which, he says, is not illegal in Ghana. How was he supposed to keep his wives in line if he wasn’t allowed to beat them? I said that I had no advice for him on this front, but that I’m sure his lawyer did what he thought was best, and his lawyer probably knew the local system. How could that be, says my cabby. He charged $5,000, which is, evidently, more than the fine the cabby had to pay as a result of getting arrested for beating his wife. Well, says I, not enjoying my cabby’s rising tone of voice, I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy your experience with the legal profession. Not all lawyer win all the time. Well, says he, now if I get charged with beating my wife again I’ll go to jail. Well, says I, I guess some people in America just don’t appreciate the full diversity of our immigrant population. Isn’t that my hotel on the left? Why yes it was, says he. That’s $23.50. Here’s some money, says I, and keep the change.
Apollo posted this at 3:59 PM HKT on Friday, January 28th, 2011 as Amer-I-Can!, Vignettes
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So perhaps this is normal around here, but a few minutes ago I heard a series of strange noises and went outside to investigate. My neighbor has driven her car up on the grass and is, um, washing it, I guess, using only a water hose and a broom. She sprays the car with water, then awkwardly scrubs it with the bristley end of the broom, then sprays some more, scrubs some more, etc. The sound I heard is coming from a very pudgy child who is stomping empty soda cans a few feet away from her. By the looks of things, he had emptied one 30-gallon bag of soda cans and had two more bags to go.
I’ll be glad when school starts back up so I will once again be ignorant of my neighbors’ excentricities.
Apollo posted this at 2:07 PM HKT on Tuesday, January 12th, 2010 as Vignettes
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My landlady just returned from France and gave us a bag of chocolates. Inside the wrapper of each chocolate is a quote, like a Frenchy a fortune cookie. The first one I opened was a French translation of an Englishman’s quip about America. It seems very strange that such an object would make its way here.
Apollo posted this at 6:43 PM HKT on Friday, January 8th, 2010 as Vignettes
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I saw a woman who was eight months pregnant, and instead of wearing clothing appropriate to her new-found girth, she simply rolled up one of her pre-pregnancy tank tops, letting us all gaze upon her bundle of joy.
Apollo posted this at 2:31 PM HKT on Wednesday, August 19th, 2009 as Vignettes
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“I heard Samantha left town.”
“Yeah, she moved about a year ago.”
“You know where?”
“Somewhere up north where it snows a lot.”
“With her family in Dallas?”
“No, I think it was Lubbock.”
Apollo posted this at 2:05 PM HKT on Tuesday, July 7th, 2009 as Deep in the Heart of Texas, Vignettes
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We’ve just discovered that here in Texas there are flying roaches. They launched aerial attacks on my wife this evening as she tried to read.
The flying roaches have now discovered that I have purchased some new weaponry, a hand-held bug zapper similar to this. 2300 volts says the handle (actually, says “2300V VOLTS,” whatever that means), “THIS IS NOT A TOY.” For $8 at Wal-Mart and a AA battery, plainly it is.
After I discovered the intruder, the first swat created a bright blue spark and left him walking in circles. Then I hit him with a second electrified swat, which left him largely motionless except for some twitches. Then I hit him again, which got him caught up in the webbing of my swatter and caused a funny smell. He was still twitching, so I pressed the shock button, which made him twitch differently. I’m not an expert on insect nervous systems, so I couldn’t tell whether his twitches were post-mortem or the result of continued life. Shock. Watch. Twitch. Shock. Watch. Twitch. Shock. Watch. Twitch. Shock. Nothing.
Then I took the opportunity to point out to Dorothy some of the things that distinguished him as being Blattaria. Rounded head, segmented abdomen, overlapping wings, all those spines on his back legs. Then he twitched. So he went down the hole.
Apollo posted this at 2:41 AM HKT on Sunday, August 31st, 2008 as Animal Kingdom Strikes Back, Vignettes
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As I was leaving my apartment this morning, I decided to take one last look at my handsome self in mirror. In doing so, I realized a plastic coat hanger had been dangling from one of my belt loops for at least 10 minutes.
Tom posted this at 8:15 AM HKT on Friday, June 13th, 2008 as Vignettes
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This morning, I woke up to find no water in my apartment. A water main burst, so I ran down to a gym to shower and shave. I looked around, and was suddenly concerned that smaller people would go into orbit around me. I bumped into a neighbor, who knows my aversion to gyms, and he was confused until he realized that I also had no water.
Later at work today, I ran into a colleague whom I hadn’t seen in a while. He was dropping off several projects that were supposed to go to me but somehow went to him instead, which is a semi-regular occurance since we have the same first name. He said, “You look good. Have you lost weight?”
I offered to have his love child; he declined and looked very confused. One way or another, I’m confusing everybody today.
Hubbard posted this at 11:07 AM HKT on Friday, May 23rd, 2008 as Ourselves, Vignettes
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Supervisor: “Your baby mama just called.”
Worker: “The one in New York or the one in Maryland?”
Supervisor: “The one in North Carolina.”
Hubbard posted this at 3:40 PM HKT on Friday, April 25th, 2008 as Excruciatingly Correct Behavior, Vignettes
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I was wearing the above t-shirt the other day when a stranger asked me if it referred to Alberto Gonzales. I thought that it was reasonably obvious that the t-shirt was a technical joke rather than a political one, so I mumbled that many things could be said about the former AG, whom I am not a fan of.
This has been bugging me because I think something deeper was going on. It dawned on me that perhaps I hadn’t given the right response to his particular question. He was seeking an affirmation of faith.
Traditional affirmations of faith begin something like this:
Leader: Do you believe and trust in God the Father?
Congregation: I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth.
Politics isn’t (and shouldn’t be) religion, which at its core is a profoundly personal enterprise: the saving of one’s soul. The stranger wasn’t violating anyone’s first amendment rights, but I think he acted the way a person in a community of faith acts. I believe it was the feminists who said that “the personal is political,” meaning that personal issues have political ramifications. The stranger with Alberto Gonzales on the brain seems to have decided that “the political is personal,” which means that he searches for an affirmation of faith from a stranger. Peculiar—and sad.
Hubbard posted this at 2:18 PM HKT on Thursday, September 6th, 2007 as Philosophy, Politics, Vignettes
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Not one to let Hubbard down, here goes.
1. Let others know who tagged you.
2. Players post 8 random facts about themselves.
3. Those who are tagged should post these rules with their 8 facts.
4. Players should tag 8 other people and notify them they have been tagged.
1) Despite 2 years of advanced Lit classes in High School and 4 years of college I have never read Moby Dick – yet I could probably tell you the entire plot from various Simpsons, Futurama or Star Trek allegories. However, at last count, I have read The Lord of the Rings 12 times, Dune 6 times and The Watchmen twice. I guess its all about priorities.
2) I have a collection of ceramic portraits of various communist luminaries adorning the wall of my apartment – including Marx, Engles, Lenin, Stalin and Mao. I also own a 3ft tall bronze statue of Mao. Despite this I do not endorse either Communism or Genocide. (Thanks for the cool stuff, Mom.)
3) I am absolutely terrible at remembering names. This serves me very well in a business in which my primary job is to meet people at parties and remember their names the next day.
4) If I could do anything for the rest of my life it would be to write Fantasy and/or Science Fiction novels. The only things standing in my way are 1. I can’t spell. 2. My grammar is horrible. 3. I’m not a particularly good writer.
5) I have a soft spot for cheesy romantic scenes in films and television and have been known to enjoy the occasional Hugh Grant/Reasonably Attractive Actress movie.
6) Once in middle school I wore a t-shirt with Ronald Regan’s face on it over the caption “Remember when America had a real president?” – I still haven’t figured out why this wasn’t considered cool.
7) I only wear black Adidas Gazelle sneakers which are nearly impossible to find – the last time I found pairs in my size I bought 6 of them and keep them in the back of my closet as spares.
I have fallen in love exactly twice in my life. Neither of which turned out terribly well. Despite this I remain a hopeless romantic.
Jamie posted this at 12:33 PM HKT on Tuesday, July 10th, 2007 as Ourselves, Vignettes
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I saw this post, and it reminded me of the best quick thinking I ever did.
Shortly after I was hired, I was on my first month-long business trip with (among others) an associate who wanted to be the next Wilt Chamberlain—not for basketball, but for the ladies. The only way he could fit in all his work and women was by consuming oceans of Starbucks coffee. He once claimed that after a 7 cup day, the only way he could sleep at night was after hooking up. I didn’t approve, but since X was going to write my annual reviews, I said nothing. I noticed that one night he brought a girl to a barbecue that our local office had. I thought it was odd that he was bringing one of his random chicks to a function, but it’s not my job to critique my supervisors’ morals, so I smiled and nodded.
Some weeks later, on a Sunday morning, we were starting to get ready for another hectic week. I dropped off some documents at X’s hotel room. Unsurprisingly, he had company: one of the hotel’s cocktail waitresses was lounging in the bed.
Our fabulous secretary called me just after I left the room. “Hubbard, where’s X?”
“His hotel room. Why?”
“Is he alone?”
“Of course not. Did you have to ask?”
“His fiancée is here and is heading to his room.”
“He’s engaged?”
“Yeah, he brought Y to the barbecue.” I remembered her name at least, thank God.
“Listen,” I told our secretary. “You tell X to clean up, and I’ll head off Y.”
I saw Y, and was still on the phone, so I then said loudly, “Yeah, I got it. Talk to you in a few when the project’s done.” I’d had my brilliant idea.
Then I said, “Hey Y, I just got a call from Z [X's boss]. He wants some things from the work room. I just ran into X, and he’s tired from being up all night [true] so he asked me to pick him up some coffee [not true]. Could you get him a grande latte at Starbucks and I’ll take care of the boss?”
She agreed, and the crisis was averted. As soon as Y was out of earshot, I told our secretary what happened so she could tell X, whose phone number I didn’t have, what his cover story was. X wasn’t the kind of guy who answered phone calls from junior people like me or secretaries, but our ever-fabulous secretary simply borrowed Z’s cell phone and called him on that. Understanding a snob might be the best way to help him.
A few weeks after that incident, I ran into X and Y on the street. X had clearly been drinking, so when I said hi to them, he asked me, “Who are you?”
Y reminded him; she had only seen me twice; women and elephants never forget.
As for X and Y? Reader, she married him—alas.
Sometimes I wonder if that quick thinking was a mistake.
Hubbard posted this at 7:51 PM HKT on Thursday, April 26th, 2007 as Excruciatingly Correct Behavior, Vignettes
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- The IRS has just informed me that I owe more taxes on 2005 (not 2006—2005) than I paid. It sure took them a while; unless I respond within 20 days, I’ll get late fees. My wallet was only just now recovering from Christmas. Happy new year!
Me: Could you please hand me file number XYZ?
Him: Let me go back and get it
Me: It’s on the shelf behind you.
Him: No, that file’s older, wouldn’t be there.
Me: I called in advance, and I think someone put it on the shelf.
Him: Your eyes aren’t that good. [Goes off]
Me: [steams in silence]
Him: [returning] It’s not in the back. Someone must have checked it out.
Me: Is that it on the shelf?
Him: You must be crazy.
Me: Could you please check it?
Him: All right. [Looks, hesitates. I can see the thought bubbles above his head like a cartoon character.] It’s XYA [lying scumbag]
Me: Are you sure? It looks like XYZ to me.
Him: Your eyes aren’t that good [is there an echo in here?]
Me: [Grabs random person near by] Isn’t that file XYZ?
Random guy: Yeah, sure looks like it
Him: Oh. I guess you’re right.
Me: [Shoots the bum, hides body where it will never be found: on that accursed shelf]
- Meetings aren’t hell, but after I die, perhaps today’s trip to DCRA and the meetings at work will knock some time off in purgatory.
- I just got the complete series of Blackadder on DVD. It includes pilots for eras of British history that they didn’t makes seasons of. Last night, I saw Blackadder: The Cavalier Years. Good stuff. On a related note, I think I saw Baldrick at DCRA.
Hubbard posted this at 7:42 PM HKT on Wednesday, January 10th, 2007 as An Insult to Drunken Sailors, Grumblin Mumblins, The Law Is An Ass--An Idiot, Vignettes
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