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Whistle

 blowers… interesting term.  Referees, noisy children, life guards.  In popular culture it’s the one upstanding citizen in a corrupt society who collects the evidence on a flash drive and delivers it to the Washington Post who prints the truth and brings justice with a flourish.  We cheer in gratitude as the perps are punished before outraged courts of law.  The citizen is feted and God is pleased.

In reality its usually some weasel with a damaged psyche who sees an opportunity to grab his 15 minutes by doing damage to causes or people he doesn’t like.  He or she (or one of the many other genders) can only be successful if the ideology of the reporting media is in synch with that of the whining complainant.  In today’s world of course that means liberalism and its proponents known as democrats.  That substantial sourced and documented material exists to condemn and convict the democrat elite: bidens, husseins, comeys, et al… is irrelevant.  Whistle blowing cannot occur because the interpreters won’t have it.

And so we listen to the cacophony of rancor as it it crescendos.  Given the maxim that if the lie is repeated often enough it becomes truth, we will see either a rejection of PDT from weariness, or a realization the democrats are destroying every value that made this country great. 

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Our only defense is the vote.  Use it while you can.

Saturday, Navy seemed to be having its way with Air Force.  I was looking forward to enjoying the victory and some of Mei Mei’s chicken that was soaking in buttermilk awaiting the frying pan. At that point Damon, our adventurous foster, climbed on the counter and gobbled down a leg and two wings of the raw chicken without spilling a dog of the buttermilk.  Fortunately we have an emergency vet just a couple of miles away.  I rushed him over and they got him to discharge the contents of his stomach.  During the process, Air Force stormed back and seemingly iced the game.  I was not there to see either the Air Force storm or the Navy miracle comeback to win decisively in the last seconds of the game.  Such are the trials of being a foster.

I love this cartoon.  I have been waiting for an opportunity to use it but nothing has come up. 


aa© Robert Graham 2012