Evgeni Plushenko: Russian National Insecurity On Ice

I hate writing about Olympic figure skating. I mean, if somebody laces blades to their feet they'd better have a hockey stick or an attitude like Apollo Ohno. However, the gold-medal whining from Russian ice dancer (or whatever they're called) Evgeni Plushenko after losing the Olympic gold to an American has me thinking about current Russian culture in generally -- namely, a culture of national insecurity that grows by the day.

Just in case you were watching actual sports, Russian skate spinner Evgeni Plushenko was slap-fight mad after performing a spinning thing that had more spins than his competition, apparently believing that judging performance in this event should be based solely on the number of spins one does. In a Russian show of class (which fortunately cost fewer lives than their invasion of Georgia), Plushenko actually stepped onto the gold medal podium before descending to his rightful place during the award ceremony. Meanwhile, the American winner, Evan Lysacek, remained gracious.

Without doubt Evgeni Plushenko is a spoiled brat who obviously didn't get taken to the wood shedenv enough, but this story also reflects a growing sense of insecurity within the former super power. Russia's national behavior has grown increasing nasty, pointing missiles at Poland, Claiming international oil regions in the Arctic, invading neighbors, re-engaging the space race, etc, etc, etc. They are a proud nation and their ruling elite is beginning to feel the need to ascend to super power status once again -- by any means necessary. The mentality is trickling to their population and reflecting in their representative, like Evgeni Plushenko. It is a trend America must watch.

Happy New Year???

Merry Christmas From The Khaki Elephant

Botticelli's Mystical Nativity

Sgt. Kimberly Denise Munley: American Hero

There simply can't be enough press about Sgt. Kimberly Denise Munley, the police officer who took down Maj. Nidal Malik Hasan, the Fort Hood killer who decided to shoot the infidels who defiled his take on Islam.

Civilian police Sgt. Munley, a former soldier who spent a good deal of time at Fort Hood in her own right, was called into action after a 911 call at 1:23. Within 5 minutes she had shot the gunmen.

As reported in the NY Daily News:

Just three minutes after Hasan shot up his fellow soldiers, Munley tracked him down outside a pre-deployment facility and unloaded on him at close range.

"She fired on him twice and drew the attention toward her. He immediately spun around and charged her," said Chuck Medley, director of emergency services at Fort Hood. "She fired a couple more rounds and fell back, continuing to fire."

Munley was hit in both legs and her wrist during the gun battle but stayed on her feet and kept firing at the charging gunman.

"She struck him a couple times in the upper torso and he went down," Medley said. "When she rounded that corner, she made a split-second decision to put her life at risk. If she had not responded the way she had, we would have had an extremely high number of dead and injured."

Thank you, Sgt Munley, for your act of courage in defending those who defend America.

Columbus Day

I've never been a fan of Columbus, the man or the city in Ohio where Buckeyes (i.e., "worthless nuts") reside. As for Chris Columbus, the man who sailed to the Americas in 1482 not the director of a pair of Harry Potter flicks, I've always felt that the props he received over the years for "discovering" America were misplaced since the Vikings beat him by some 500 years. That said, I'm starting to grow weary of the PC Posse and their Columbus day attacks of "he couldn't discover America because people already lived here" or "he brought about the rape of paradise."

First of all, we all know what is meant by "discovering America" so can we stop the word games? Columbus came from a civilization that had a written language, so unlike the natives of the new land, he was able to communicate in perpetuity the nature of the world as he saw it without the "telephone game" of miscommunication that oral traditions create (for those of you who rely on oral traditions: Mackinac Island was never actually a giant turtle . . . and what the hell are you doing reading blogs?) Columbus gave us the vision of old America. In addition, Columbus' "discovery" brought inventions to the new world that allowed for the type of civilization that we enjoy today. Inventions like, say, the wheel. I don't know about you, but I for one am glad I can make it from my house to Montreal in a few hours, shaving off 30 days from Native American canoe trip.

Second, let's stop romanticising the "paradise" of the new world. Some Native American tribes practiced cannibalism, torched entire forests to destroy their enemies and sacrificed woman to the gods. My brother-in-law is a Native American and I have a deep respect for the many cultures and histories of America's first residents, but let's not pretend is was all love and flowers.

Finally, Columbus was Italian which means: Pizza -- perhaps God's greatest gift. So let's stop the nonsense and spend a few moments in recognition of this great adventurer.

9/12 Protest Pics

There were so many outstanding pics and prints from the 9/12 protest that I decided to post a few. It's nice to see the creativity of the right versus the hanging George Bushes (or Republican of your choice) and endless "Nazi" signs that tend to be the outer limit of liberal inventiveness.

H/T Thanks to:
geeeeeZ!
According to Nikki
American Princess

Hot Air

Looking at the Left

Michelle Malkin

Debonair Dude's World

Vodkapundit

9/11 . . . We Still Hear You

Commercial Break

For the best TV commercial ever made

Happy Birthday, America

D-Day Remembered

On June 6, 1944 history was made by those who's blood would dampened Omaha beach in a courageous confrontation with evil. In the words of fellow native Michiganian (or Michigander if you prefer) Ted Nugent :

"As you read this, 65 years ago almost to the exact day, tens of thousands of scared young American soldiers were crammed together on landing craft in the English Channel heading for the beaches of Normandy, France. Their mission: save the world. Though they surely didn't know it, these young men in all those landing craft would be forever known in American history as the Greatest Generation.

. . . As the gates of the landing crafts fell, the Nazis unleashed Hell upon the Greatest Generation. In mere minutes, hundreds had been killed or wounded. By day's end the American military would suffer 5,000 casualties, all in the name of freedom. Know it.

. . . The American dead and wounded was so severe that American commanders considered abandoning the beach. But what our commanders had not counted on was the tenacity and fighting spirit of the Greatest Generation. Just as the firemen on 9/11 kept rushing up the stairs of the burning Twin Towers into the hands of God, the landing craft full of American infantry kept coming.

. . . Those young Americans who stormed Omaha beach on that morning 65 years ago on June 6th accomplished their mission: they saved the world."

May we never forget the strength and sacrifice of those who decided to face evil that day. And may we live up to their example when evil needs to be faced in our day.

Cinco de Cuatro?

Barack Obama met with Mexico's Ambassador Arturo Sarukhan in the East Room of the White House today to celebrate Cinco de Mayo a day early, or as the President called it, "Cinco de Cuatro." Whoa, wait a minute. I'm not Ricky Ricardo, but doesn't that mean something like "the 5th of the 4th"? Just imagine if the Ambassador of Pig Latina was there a couple of days ago and he had to work his way through "ay may ay day."

The Khaki Elephant Turns 1

Today is the first anniversary of The Khaki Elephant.

Thanks for reading
For writing
And for growing friendships

I expect to make some changes this year to the look and feel of the site -- just some friendly updates and upgrades. But if you're looking for a gentler perspective from Khaki . . . sorry, I'm sharpening the tusks.

Democrats Remain All About "The Show"

Have you been watching the media coverage of Barack Obama (the President Elect, in case you'd forgotten) taking the Lincoln trail to his inauguration? Have you heard the stories of people lined up just to catch a glimpse of the Chosen One? In fact, I believe there was a woman just outside of Philly who was healed of her mental illness simply by touching the hem of his garment. Now she's a Republican.

And we haven't even made it to the ceremony yet. By all accounts this is to be the most expensive inauguration in American history, with most estimates topping the $150 million mark. I guess this is part of his economic stimulus package. And with Beyonce, Springsteen, Denzel and the rest of the star-studded party, let's just hope some of the benefits trickle down to us.

But I just can't help but think back to when the last Democrat was elected president and we had Fleetwood Mac and Maya Angelou plucking our heartstrings. Forget that this guy would eventually dismantle our intelligence agencies and sell confidential info to the Chinese, he was a Democrat and that meant it was time to party and time for the media to capture every booty wiggle. Why, if you'd only watched TV you'd have thought that Bill Clinton had brought the entire country together with his message of change and a new day . . . you see, the mainstream media forgot to mention that "the man from Hope" never in his life sniffed so much as 50% of the national popular vote.

So here we stand today on the brink of a new show as the left-leaning media celebrates the hope brought by a man who is attractive, though he only showed his pretty face on the U.S. Senate floor for around 140 days. The Democrats are prepped to rejoice for a guy they admire for his language skills, though he seemed to lose his ability to articulate when he voted "present" 130 while serving in Illinois. The mindless followers of the empty suite from . . . well, can we really be sure where he's from since he bizarrely had his birth records sealed? Anyway, the mindless followers are set to carouse for a man who failed to demonstrate any leadership in his previous elected positions but sure showed us that he never failed when it came to picking twisted friends. (Which reminds me, I wonder if Rev. Wright, Rashid Khalidi, William Ayers, Khalid al-Mansour, Tony Rezko, his buddies in the Fannie and Freddie banking scandal or any of Obama's other troubling chums will be at the festivities in person or just in spirit?)

Ah, but none of this matters. Let's face it, we all know what really matters to them. Ask an Obama supporter about their man's stimulus package, his national security measures or the specifics of his education reform and you'll be greeted by a blank stare . . . and perhaps that famous Obamanite stutter. But ask them about the inauguration party and the stare and stutter are quickly replaced with glazing and a guest list. It's all about the show.

Happy Christmas To All

Since many of you are not on Khaki's naughty list (and thus forced to receive snail mail from me containing an obligatory card, picture of my kids and whatever else might be found in the envelope) I've decided to post a portion of what I sent out to family and friends here.

Last year it was a Christmas letter.

This year it is a Christmas Poem.

So, Happy Holidays to all y'all out in the blogosphere

A Christmas Poem

From The Khaki Elephant

'T was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, thanks to delouse
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
Each with a name so we don't have to share

The children were nestled all snug in their beds

After teaspoons of Benadryl knocked them out dead
Mama in her kerchief and I in my cap
(Quite an embarrassing sight as we nap)

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter
I loaded my 12 gauge to settle the matter
Away to the window I lurched like Babe Ruth
Slipped on a Lego and busted a tooth

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow
Lit up my unshoveled driveway down below
When what to my wondering eye should appear
But a toy laden sleigh (oh those poor, poor reindeer)

A swaying thick driver, red-nosed I could see
It was either St. Nick or Ted Kennedy
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came
I love the word "coursers" but he called them by name

"Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen!"
(Who named these Reindeer? Sarah Palin while blitzen'd?)
"To the top of the porch! To the top of the walls!
Be careful, we don't have insurance for falls."

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
When FEMA then handles their business so sly
So up to the housetop the courser they flew
(I used the word "coursers" again just for you)

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
No doubt costly damage from each tiny hoof
As I drew in my head and was turning around
There stood Ol' Santa, for now safe and sound

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his boot,
(Either that was some fake fur or Santa can shoot!)
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And I wondered if batteries where too in that sack.

His eyes, how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
But his elves looked a little bit creepy and scary.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And his beard was filled with brown cookies and snow.

The stump of his pipe he held tight in his teeth,
(Great example, dear Santa, got a cigarette wreath?)
He had a broad face and a little round belly
A sign he's been hitting the doughnuts with jelly

He was chubby and plump and jolly, no strife
So I set down my shotgun and gave him his life
He gave to know I had nothing to dread
"Til Obama is Prez and we're all seeing red.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And just for a moment I thought, "What a jerk."
But laying his finger aside of his nose
I knew it was "giving" not "taking" he chose

He sprang up to his sleigh, to his team gave a shout
And I felt I would miss him till next year no doubt
But he gave one last gift as he called taking flight
"Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!"

Congressman Joe Knollenberg Says Goodbye

For 16 years he served the state of Michigan with honor and honesty. Today Congressman Joe Knollenberg said goodbye to a gathering of supporters as he prepares for life after Washington.

Joe's voice of reason will be missed in the D.C. halls where his work for Michigan and the rest of the country have always been a welcome respite from typical Congressional cop outs.

Thanks for everything, Joe.

May the best in life come to you.

And as my farewell gift to you, please accept this majestic image of Kimba the White Lion leading his faithful followers as you led the way for us all those years (and we can just ignore the creepy fact that Kimba used to sleep on his dead father's skin . . . a detail that always gave me the willies, even as a kid).

The First Sunday Of Advent

For many churches today marks the beginning of the liturgical year. It is the fourth Sunday before Christmas, the first Sunday of advent. It is a season marked by a spirit of expectation and preparation as we ready to celebrate Christ's first coming in anticipation of his second.

May you find hope and peace in this time of promise.


"For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."
Isaiah 9:6-7

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

You may not be feeling cranberry-stuffed love this Thanksgiving.

Maybe the country's economic woes have become your own. Perhaps you're fretting that Karl Marx will be smiling down on the Oval Office come January 20th. Or, it's possible that you are just a hate-filled, bitter human being. Whatever the cause, rest assured, there is a reason for you to be thankful today.

• A teacher taught you to read, allowing you to love, hate or feel informed apathy toward this blog.
• A mother gave birth to you, offering a chance for you to better the world you inhabit.
• If you're reading this there's a pretty good chance that you're not married to Michelle Obama.
• If you believe in God you can have heavenly hope. If you don't, you can feel earthly freedom.
• You're not currently pinned in a revolving door because somebody stuck a spear through your head.
• Soldiers have sacrificed for you. And they always will.
• There is majesty in a bird and grandeur in a snow flake.
• Barney Frank will not have any children.
• With keen eyes you can witness living magic through a child's unbridled imagination.
• Sometimes the wind really does whisper "Mary."
• Norm Coleman still leads Stuart Smalley in Minnesota.
• Regardless of your situation, a library can take you to Denmark with Hamlet, the moor of Dartmoor with Sherlock Holmes or Trantor with Hari Seldon.
• Salmon
• Unless you're one of my unfortunate neighbors, you don't have to watch me rake leaves, shovel snow or dance in the moonlight.
• You are alive and capable of making others thankful for that fact.
• No matter what you're doing today, you are not going to be served burned turkey by the creepy Rockwell woman in the picture I posted above

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

A Child's Dream Of Space

Having grown up in Florida I've seen my share of space shuttle launches. I remember the first mission and the second (Coach Green even stopped football practice to watch Columbia's return to space). And later, of course, I remember watching those ominously split smoke trails streaming upward as my brother and I rushed to the radio to find out if something had happened to Challenger. But after a while the launches became just something ordinary that happened, like the Thursday night smell of Mrs. Ferdnor's overcooked meatloaf that wafted through the neighborhood.

How extraordinary that something so spectacular could become mundane.

Friday night I watched the Endeavor launch on FoxNews with my two sons sitting next to me. The truth is that I didn't even remember that it was scheduled. I was just clicking the remote to hear the man-comforting sound when I saw that familiar black and white form poised on the launchpad. I decided to call my boys in to watch. "T - 1:59." I figured they might enjoy it. And as ignition was reached I found myself looking from the TV to their spellbound faces and I discovered its wonder again.

The boys were transfixed as the spacecraft rocketed upward, taking them with it to a place of imagination. I was a child again, no longer wondering how much fuel or horsepower was being expended, but transported with my sons from our sofa toward a bold adventure to worlds where no one has gone before.

Children still dream of space. They always will. We always will.

Anniversary Of The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald (November 10, 1975)

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called 'Gitche Gumee'

The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty.
That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early.

The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well seasoned
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ship's bell rang
Could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too,
T'was the witch of November come stealin'.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the Gales of November came slashin'.
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain

In the face of a hurricane west wind.

When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck

Sayin' fellas, it's too rough to feed ya.
At Seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in

He said fellas, it's been good t'know ya
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
And the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when his lights went out of sight

Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
They may have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams;
The islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the Gales of November remembered.

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral.
The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call 'Gitche Gumee'.
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early!

© 1976 Moose Music, Inc.

SS Edmund Fitzgerald Online

All Hallows Eve

Happy Halloween!



H/T: Nick over at RightMichigan