“Questo è luogo di lacrime!”

The place of tears indeed. If we go back to the obscure reference it's from Puccini's Tosca, and the police chief, Baron Scarpia, is about to torture the hero, who happens to be a tenor.  Even though this the setup for a tenor joke, not today, thank you.

This is the place of tears. And I think of the earlier comments about a Perishing Republic. My friend Jane directed me to a column from the Providence Journal which spells out the Little Formless Fears of those who stand in fear of a President Obama, "socialized" medicine, and the presumed evils of the Welfare State that would follow Obama into office.

If they do, about damned time.


You only have to live without health care for two years as I did to see the beauty of socialized medicine.  That does not spell "Communist State," it spells free health care mandated to all.  Had it not been for health insurance I'd never have known I was diabetic.  As for being crazy, I knew that a long time ago.

The American flag lapel pin.  My second deepest regret about Obama at the moment is that he reportedly succumbed and is wearing one.  Why are we so in love with a symbol?  The British Navy takes their old flags, cuts them into rags, and gives them to the sailors to buff their shoes.  Is the British Navy full of subversives?

My biggest regret about Obama is that he left Rev. Wright's church.  See, Jeremiah Wright, true to his name, nailed it. If you shit on people for a century or more, eventually they are going to snap and come back at you. For a century or more the US, Britain, and any other colonial power available was ripping off the middle east for anything that wasn't nailed down. The payback was indeed hell, and the form it took was inexcusable, but if you can't put the connection together between a century of oppression and disrespect with a hideous retaliation, then you're not just jingoistic, you're a talk radio host, the lowest form of animal life.


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