Strangling Middle Earth to the Enth Degree

The evil forces in Mordor (Obama admin) are strangling we hobbits along with the  Ents, Dwarves, Elves, and Humans with mountain-sized regulations to the enth degree. The darkness has been growing in Middle Earth for many years. Saruman's (Obama) spendaholic policies gave S&P no choice but to downgrade Middle Earth's credit rating.  We can see a bright light in the midst of all this darkness. The Tea Partiers among the Middle Earth folk are demanding fiscal responsibility, accountability, and cuts in spending while the evil forces use derogatory language in hopes to paint the Tea Partiers as extreme.

McCain and WSJ are right - we hobbits love the tea party! -- A brief comment by Samwise

Now that the default deadline has passed and the debt ceiling has been raised again, I think it is safe to weigh in on something that was said recently without the risk of causing trouble for anyone. I just want to say that the Wall Street Journal and Senator McCain are right - Hobbits and the Tea Party go together. The Tea party is just filled with us hobbits, and we hobbits love the Tea Party. They may have thought this association was insulting, but we are proud of it.

It has been suggested that the Tea Partiers would have preferred that the debt ceiling not be raised, even if it meant that the U.S. would go into default and lose its good, solid financial reputation, and along with it, certain benefits that come from that. Then, it was said, we would return to the Shire, having "defeated Mordor". Well, perhaps that is so. Speaking as one who was personally involved the very thing mentioned, I believe that a vitally important point should not be left unspoken. When the honorable Sirs Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrine Took returned with Master Frodo and myself to the Shire, we found that it was in a right sorry state of affairs and no mistake. My old Gaffer would tell you, there had been queer goings on, and if he said that, he was talking about things much worse than those that ought not to be mentioned in polite conversation (my but that word has changed its meaning since I was a boy)!

My point is, if the Tea Partiers think as Senator McCain and the WSJ imagine they do - like hobbits - then the Tea Party would not assume that the a refusal to raise the debt ceiling would have no unpleasant consequences, or that we wouldn't have a good deal of cleaning up to do. Masters Frodo, Merry, Pippin and I had quite a chore ahead of us when we got home. It has been described at the end of the account of the adventures of our Fellowship, under the heading, The Scouring of the Shire. By the time we had come back after our long journey, old Saruman had already reached Hobbiton ahead of us, and, under the name "Sharkey", he and a gang of human ruffians were well established as the Brown Shirt thugs enforcing a pretty bleak and Stalinesque industrial Worker's Paradise, turning the beautiful forests of the shire into a smoking, belching factory, and compelling the labor of our countrymen toward the end of spitefully destroying the spirit and freedom of our homeland. We hobbits, patriots that we are, do not shrink from rolling up our sleeves and setting about the hard work of fixing what is broken and in need of repair. We are under no illusion that it will always be more pleasant and easy than leaving things the way they are and hoping they get better on their own. But should everyone else be assuming that anticipating immediate hardship should cause us to forgo the effort to change things for the long run? I shudder to think of how Middle Earth would look if we of the Fellowship thought that way before we set out, for we knew it would be hard, though we certainly could never know just how terrible it would be at times. If we did, would we have cowered from our duty? I certainly hope not, for then we would be in a much worse state of affairs now and no mistake!

Dinner at White House: Obama is Gonna Take Take Take If We Don't Stop Him Now

Dinner at the White House

Once upon a time, I was invited to the White House for a private dinner with the President. I am a respected businessman, with a factory that produces memory chips for computers and portable electronics. There was some talk that my industry was being scrutinized by the administration, but I paid it no mind. I live in a free country. There’s nothing that the government can do to me if I’ve broken no laws. My wealth was earned honestly, and an invitation to dinner with an American President is an honor.

I checked my coat, was greeted by the Chief of Staff, and joined the President in a yellow dining room. We sat across from each other at a table draped in white linen. The Great Seal was embossed on the china. Uniformed staff served our dinner.

The meal was served, and I was startled when my waiter suddenly reached out, plucked a dinner roll off my plate, and began nibbling it as he walked back to the kitchen.

“Sorry about that,” said the President. “Andrew is very hungry.”

“I don’t appreciate…” I began, but as I looked into the calm brown eyes across from me, I felt immediately guilty and petty. It was just a dinner roll. “Of course,” I concluded, and reached for my glass. Before I could, however, another waiter reached forward, took the glass away and swallowed the wine in a single gulp.

“And his brother Eric is very thirsty.” said the President.

I didn’t say anything. The President is testing my compassion, I thought. I will play along. I don’t want to seem unkind.

My plate was whisked away before I had tasted a bite.

“Eric’s children are also quite hungry.”

With a lurch, I crashed to the floor. My chair had been pulled out from under me. I stood, brushing myself off angrily, and watched as it was carried from the room.

“And their grandmother can’t stand for long.”

I excused myself, smiling outwardly, but inside feeling like a fool.

Obviously I had been invited to the White House to be sport for some game. I reached for my coat, to find that it had been taken. I turned back to the President.

Their grandfather doesn’t like the cold.”

I wanted to shout- that was my coat! But again, I looked at the placid smiling face of my host and decided I was being a poor sport. I spread my hands helplessly and chuckled. Then I felt my hip pocket and realized my wallet was gone. I excused myself and walked to a phone on an elegant side table. I learned shortly that my credit cards had been maxed out, my bank accounts emptied, my retirement and equity portfolios had vanished, and my wife had been thrown out of our home. Apparently, the waiters and their families were moving in. The President hadn’t moved or spoken as I learned all this, but finally I lowered the phone into its cradle and turned to face him.

“Andrew’s whole family has made bad financial decisions. They haven’t planned for retirement, and they need a house. They recently defaulted on a sub-prime mortgage. I told them they could have your home. They need it more than you do.”

My hands were shaking. I felt faint. I stumbled back to the table and knelt on the floor. The President cheerfully cut his meat, ate his steak and drank his wine. I lowered my eyes and stared at the small gray circles on the tablecloth that were water drops.

“By the way,” He added, “I have just signed an Executive Order nationalizing your factories. I’m firing you as head of your business. I’ll be operating the firm now for the benefit of all mankind. There’s a whole bunch of Eric’s and Andrews out there and they can’t come to you for jobs groveling like beggars.”

I looked up. The President dropped his spoon into the empty ramekin which had been his creme brulee. He drained the last drops of his wine. As the table was cleared, he lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. He stared at me. I clung to the edge of the table as if it were a ledge and I were a man hanging over an abyss. I thought of the years behind me, of the life I had lived. The life I had earned with a lifetime of work, risk and struggle. Why was I punished? How had I allowed it to be taken? What game had I played and lost? I looked across the table and noticed with some surprise that there was no game board between us.

What had I done wrong?

As if answering the unspoken thought, the President suddenly cocked his head, locked his empty eyes to mine, and bared a million teeth, chuckling wryly as he folded his hands.

“You should have stopped me at the dinner roll,” he said.