What Glen Beck and Most Other Conservatives, Libertarians Are Missing

What was wrong with Glen Beck’s CPAC (Conservative Political Action Conference) speech last week?

He got up and confidently compared Republicans to an unrepentant alcoholic.

‘ "I have not yet heard people in the Republican Party admit they have a problem," Beck told a packed ballroom in Washington. "I have not seen a come-to-Jesus meeting. . . . 'Hello, my name is the Republican Party and I've got a problem. I'm addicted to spending and big government.' . . . They need that moment." ’

You betcha.

I haven’t heard one speech that addresses the other side of the problem. What other side of the problem?

Good thing I engage - and I’m thankful for this – in conversation with a few very liberal, progressive friends. We are close enough for them to entertain, if not try on, my viewpoint. And we still come away friends.

Generally all liberals are against “big corporation” as much as conservatives are against “big government.” Throw it back a century or so and you’ve got the same argument, but in its initial form: labor vs. management. Corporation still represents management, but now government is looked upon by the left, erroneously, as the people’s benefactor.

Beck knows all this. So where is he missing the yacht? I’ve been reading one of Peter Marshall’s books about the founding of the USA. He uses real quotes, real research and real, handwritten documents - most of which were unearthed from Yale or Princeton archives, ca. 17th and 18th centuries. They’re the “Dead Sea Scrolls” of our country. BTW, Marshall’s mother, Catherine, wrote “Little House on the Prairie,” and his dad was chaplain of the US Senate (1947-49).

Marshall, in “From Sea To Shining Sea,” discusses the first Constitutional Convention in the late 1700s. Talk about special interest! The states were battling so much over MONEY, that individual states were courting foreign countries, whose armies and political power could best suit their needs.

The great experiment that had become the USA was about to fail because the initial focus that energized independence had changed – from unity, to self-interest. Using historical records, Marshall brings us to the convention hall and shows us the key to what turned things around.

A bespectacled gentleman, dottering on his cane, watching the goings on in an overheated, unbearably humid room in Philadelphia, summer, 1787, pointed out something ineffably valuable to the arguing delegates. No fiction setting the scene, it’s written by the participants themselves.

Benjamin Franklin, 82, had less than three years to live. Only 10-15 yrs. previous, he was a chief mover in founding this country. In fact, his prodigious inventions and writings set the tone for the American way of life - electricity for one. Franklin/Edison/A Teen on a Cell Phone. Yes, yes, and a few stops in between.

Franklin, the elder statesman, recalled the marching orders that gave the country its freedom from repressive, selfish British rule. You think the Brits are nice? Ok, they’re nice. But they used America as a cash cow. 225 years later, they barely have a country.

Franklin’s words quelled the bickering among the states at the 11th hour as the nation they formed with the unity of their blood, sweat and tears was about to be torn and shredded from its flagpole. He implored them (quote from Sea to Shining Sea):

“I have lived sir, a long time, and the longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of this truth: ‘that God governs in the affairs of man.’ And if a sparrow can’t fall to the ground without His notice, is it probable that an empire cannot rise without His aid?”

Franklin reminded that a house is built in vain unless the Lord build it Himself. He believed the same held for America, that “we shall succeed in this political building no better than the towers of Babel, [and] divided by our little, partial local [special] interests, and become a reproach and a byword down to future ages.”

Ain’t that the truth? Worse, Franklin said, is that by building the nation on “human wisdom” would leave it open to “chance, war, or conquest.”

Couple centuries later, and boom, it’s the dawning of the Age of Aquarius. Toke toke, sniff sniff, cough cough, giggle giggle. Adultery, swap partners, intense restriction of Christianity, rise of sodomy, money grab, power grab. You’d think the Lord is sitting up there wondering, “what the h#&& kind of wimpy people did I create?”

No, I don’t think He’s doing that. This country, this land o’ plenty, has been a supreme test. You want it, you got it. Every sparkling doo-dad, tech and perversion imaginable. But the rules are, and Franklin saw this – the more you take on your own, the less the Lord has His hand on us.

Could Franklin have foreseen this slide into oblivion, masked, at present as intellectual, benign socialism? All he had to do was pick up the bible. He concluded to the Con-Con delegates:

“I therefore beg leave to move that, henceforth, prayers imploring the assistance of Heaven and its blessing on our deliberations, be held in this assembly every morning before we proceed to business.”

Powerful words. They held a mesmerizing sway over the crowd. And the members, teetering on the edge of an irreversible secular democracy instead of a republic, were stirred. America, instead of being a large teat up for grabs for whoever squeaked the loudest (or sucked the hardest), was to be a light for all men.

A light for all men. Corny? You betcha. It’s the HONOR SYSTEM. That’s all God asked: to be pure in heart and let the Holy Spirit guide you – corporation head, banker, politician, pastor, the common man and woman.

Did we lose sight of that? We should write it on our hands.

From Pat Boone

In his column for WND this morning, Pat Boone restates the prophetic warnings about big government, given by no less than Ben Franklin and second president of the United States, John Adams. Here are the quotes:

"But early on, Ben Franklin warned, "Beware; if the congressmen discover they can appropriate funds by taxation for their own purposes, the republic will be lost."

And on Oct. 11, 1798, President John Adams stated in his address to the military: "We have no government armed with power capable of contending with human passions unbridled by morality and religion. Avarice, ambition, or revenge, would break the strongest cords of our Constitution as a whale goes through a net. Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other."

Thanks Pat Boone, for the wisdom and insight. Mr. Boone is a descendant of Daniel Boone - his relatives were there when this country was started. But it's not Boone, it's the words, the thoughts, the ideas grasped by a core of individuals who understood what tyranny was and what it would take to build a truly free nation. Proof of their keen understanding (it comes from the Lord, not man), is shown in their words of forebodding.

We forgot about the rules. Oh, everybody knows right from wrong (you'd think, eh?). But we went to sleep and as long as we were taken care of, we let the rules become twisted, self-serving and even perverted. At our expense. Not just our money, but our freedom.

And, judging by what all my friends are going through, we're not so taken care of anymore. Is it too late to fix? You tell me.

Bacon and Bourbon, and Somewhere, Catfish

There's a fresh piece of catfish under there, look close!

I like the new Analon skillet and it was about time I cooked some fish. The flavors came together, so here we go:

1/2 catfish filet
3 strips of bacon (i've found nitrate free, Hormel, I think)
1/4 bermuda onion
orange zest and a little juice
a few baby carrots
bourbon (just enough to make the fish and chef happy)
fresh parsely
peanuts
three mushrooms, sliced
green peas
olive oil
Earth Balance spread
whole wheat spaghetti (i used capellini, which is thin spaghetti, for this one)


Start by grinding 1/2 tsp. ea of these herbs:
granulated garlic
granulated onion
coarse ground black pepper or peppercorns
basil
oregano
parsely flakes

Put 2/3 of this mixture into the boiling pasta and the rest (later) into the fish dish.

Fry the bacon. Add the catfish, tablespoon of Earth Balance spread. Add chopped or sliced onion. Add about a tablespoon of olive oil. Throw in a handful of peanuts. Add the mushrooms, carrots and the orange zest (squeeze in a little juice).

As it all starts to brown, add a splash of bourbon. Add the rest of the herbs. Add fresh parsely and the peas towards the end.

I cooked the peas separately in the remaining juice - either way is fine.

In the bowl:

pasta, crumbled bacon, peanuts, kosher salt, more pepper, parmesean or any shredded italian cheese, a little olive oil.

Put the fish/onion, etc. on top with the peas and parsely at the very top. a little more kosher salt and you're done!

If He Were Among Us Now

"The constitution is not an instrument for the government to restrain the people, it is an instrument for the people to restrain the government - lest it come to dominate our lives and interests."-Patrick Henry

Darwin, can you hear me?

This morning, Dennis Miller came up with the best Darwin line I've ever heard. Ready?

"God created Darwin."

And so...

It's been awhile. I'm grateful for my friends on Facebook - sort of a new venture. A lot of opportunities are opening up for me, just wish some would pay the bills.

Upcoming concert: The Jamezband, Wednesday Aug. 26 at The Bollingbrook Theater for the Performing Arts. James is James Fairs, a true visionary. In another life long ago yet not so far away, he co-founded the Cryan' Shames. They delighted our world in the late 60s.

For the few of you who might not know, that's James to my right in the photo. We jammed at his house in May, and if I am further blessed, we'll do it again.

I am wrapping up my house and home and moving on - we fervently hope - to greener pastures.

Chicago IS Siberia in the winter! But...sometimes in winter...

What a summer! Except for the parking fees and murders, Chicago should be the resort capitol of the season. We have some of the coolest attractions anywhere. Anybody know if the "Chahooly" (I have no idea how to spell his last name) glass exhibit is still at Garfield Park? GP was, only a couple of years back, the center of murder in Chicagoland. Creepy, but I'm still shaking off the effects of watching The Tingler - the old Vincent Price tour de force that was on Svengoolie over the weekend.


Keep on keepin' on Rev Swing Orch. Dot comm. Watching too much Peanut/Jeff Done Hamm. Dot cahmm.

It's great and noble being one of many "keepers of the flame" regarding big band music, but as someone said a few months back when we were playing a club across the street from a cemetery: "All we need to do is turn up. Our fan base is over there!"

Not so true. My friend, Jon McGahan has put together a new band, Stardust, and he has astutely gone into the Lincoln Park neighborhood where his excellent band has been well-received by the young locals.

Till next time!

Why Do Pigeons Have Red Eyes? And Why I Can’t Stop Singing Sam Cooke’s “Cupid.”

I took the L downtown this morning and when you haven’t ridden the L for a long time, you notice things you used to take for granted.

There weren't many people on the train, and today was a perfect summer day. I almost missed the old commute. A little voice reminded me of the early 80s when I did it daily, through the winter, and at both rush hours, dogged tired. It’s when you learn to sleep standing up.

I think the Lord painted pigeons into the urban landscape when He created it. Ever wonder what pigeons know? Or if they know anything? Pigeons probably covered the dinosaurs. But they have red eyes. OK, blue blocker sunglasses are red. That’s why. Pigeons must be able to see like crazy. You drop a peanut or a piece of popcorn, blam, that pigeon gets it. You don’t give up a morsel, you become a target. Life’s balance.

There are always a few spectacular girls with spectacular figures riding the L. They watch to see if you notice. And it’s cool if you do. But there’s an entire L unspoken, non-verbal communication etiquette. Basically, you DON’T start conversations. “Nice day, isn’t it?” That’s taboo. Read your newspaper or look around, focused, and yet removed. “Thank you,” “Excuse me.” That’s about it.

Everyone observes. There isn’t a soul who doesn’t. Riding the L in the 80s, even before that, is how I learned to create characters. I listened to the conversations, watched what people wore, how they carried themselves, how they looked around, all the while observing L etiquette - be there and at the same time, pretend not to be there.

My business downtown only took a short time, so I walked around and noticed how spruced up the theater district is now, then went back to the subway to catch the train home.

There was a Spanish kid driving his mom crazy because he kept putting his toes over the edge of the platform and leaned over to see if the train was coming. I broke the rule and smiled at her, thinking of stunts my own son has pulled.

It was awhile before the train came. A black guy who I thought was waiting for the eastbound train – he had been there almost as long as us – suddenly broke into song.

He was a busker – you have to have a license for it and I’ve been thinking of doing it. But this guy had a sweet voice like an angel. “Cupid, draw back your bow, oh-ee-oh-oh. And let your arrow go. Straight to my lover’s heart for me.”

I walked over and put a buck in his little bag. He looked me in the eye, nodded, and kept singing. By now (I’m writing this a couple hours later) I bet his bag is filled. The Spanish kid walked over and gave him some change.

The train came and I sat next to a young lady. The seat faced backwards to the direction of the train. I don’t have a preference. Either way, the vibration of the ride felt good on my back and legs.

L etiquette: you sit still for the first few minutes. Otherwise, you’re typed. I’ve seen it. After a stop or two you relax and break out the paper or take a drink from your water bottle. You’ve assimilated and are now a rider. You weren’t before. The first two stops are like probation. Now you’re fine and can look around.

Three years I’ve been working out with weights. Dumbbells. I’m not what they call “cut” (I don’t like that term) but my upper bod is getting toned and I’m more bulky now. Enough to think about wearing muscle shirts or tank tops again. Still have to lose a little more around the middle. Three inches and 7 lbs. in 3 months. No beer and no potato chips!

A guy my age got on. He was lanky rather than thin, but he had great arms. I see why guys wear cut-off shirts, etc. We like to show off, too.

There were plenty of girls with all different figures on the train. It’s summer and tank tops rule. For a straight guy, if you don’t think the female breast is comforting and wonderful (and leave it at that), any other thought is perved.


A guy got on in the middle of the ride and sat in the sideways seat next to where I was sitting. He looked liked Santana, or at least a Santana fan, from Woodstock. Black permed hair, curly, not a fro, he was white, thick beard. He was much too young to have been born during Woodstock, but he looked like he was. He wore dark, wrap around shades and had his ipod or whatever plugged in. He moved around right away, didn’t observe L etiquette.

He popped his legs up, crossed them. There was a ways to go before my stop, so I watched this young man, grooving or whatever it’s called now, to the tune he was hearing. A thin, gorgeous black girl got on with an infant in tow. The tyke was as cute as his mom and already had a pretty good fro going. The lady and her girlfriend (or sister) stood in the right side door with the stroller. That was ok because the doors would open on the left for the rest of the stops.

I wondered how the guy singing “Cupid” was doing.

The Santana guy jerked his leg and three quarters tumbled out of his shorts. One stayed on the empty seat next to him, one went on the floor, and the other rolled past me and stopped a seat or two down.

I tapped him on the shoulder and showed him. He didn’t care. “That’s OK.” Another guy told him his quarters were all over the floor, so he went to get them. L etiquette – the guy sitting across from him – tank top, short hair, toned, middle aged, looked at me and grinned. See what I mean? It doesn’t matter what you look like, race or gender, L etiquette is L etiquette.

Another guy got up, went to the door, and put an unlit cigarette in his mouth. I can’t imagine or remember if they ever let people smoke on the CTA. Not when I drove a bus in ’73-’74.

I got up too and stood next to him. He pulled the cig out of his mouth. L etiquette. We all got off. Most people were polite, except for those fighting for seats to O’Hare, the end of the line.

Pigeons have iridescent feathers and bright red eyes. They act like our cat, getting in and out of your way to let you know they need to be fed. Or else.

(photo by Graham Garfield)