This is a typically excellent piece on congressional skullduggery from Investor’s Business Daily, with the best head I’ve seen in a while:

Flying Miss Nancy

By INVESTOR’S BUSINESS DAILY | Posted Wednesday, August 05, 2009 4:20 PM PT

Washington: The Democrat-controlled House wants to buy nearly $200 million worth of private jets so lawmakers and a few high-level bureaucrats can travel in style. We truly have an imperial Congress.

As radio man Mark Levin said last night, if you’re looking for a missing birth certificate, look for Pelosi’s.  She may be an alien.  He let it go at that, but I thought right away of space alien.  Her eyes go pop in the night, right?

Those airplanes, by the way?

The taxpayer money the House plans to spend is to be used to buy three Gulfstream G550s at roughly $65 million each. These are long-range business jets with large, palatial interiors and three temperature zones. Company literature says the “impeccably equipped cabin” of a G550 offers “best-in-class comforts” and can be configured “with up to four living areas.”

They would pretend they are CEOs.

August 6, 2009 — Members of congress blasted the CEOs of the nation’s big 3 automakers for their use of luxury jets several months ago. 

But . . .  (see above) 

Liz Cheney:

To survive as a nation, our President can’t function as a disinterested international arbitrator. He can’t attempt to stand above America and our enemies. In other words, America needs a Commander in Chief, not a Global Community Organizer.

If he returned to Saul “Hardball” Alinsky dealing with domestic capitalistic leaders, he would learn how to deal with international bad guys.  Trouble is, he’s been raised on thinking we’re them.

At Ridgeland pool (not Rehm), they give everyone a wrist band to i-d you beyond the ticket counter. Why? Because some have been sneaking in — not at Rehm apparently and (I say) not septuagenarian season-pass-holders. I dump mine at the first trash receptacle, but kids don’t, I presume, lest they be nailed for sneakers-in.

They climb over the fence, I have thought, the sneakers-in. Ridgeland has one that is reachable from atop heavy trash containers at its southeast corner, where Ridgeland Avenue meets the viaduct.

I was wrong, and clapped my forehead in amazement at my own stupidity in the matter: they get in through the northwest entrance, to the jumbo-size indoor soccer field, where kids are trooping in and out all the time, and soccer-camp (or other) counselors can hardly keep track.

This I realized today, seeing a boy 11 or 12 years old slip into the near-empty locker room as I was finishing dressing, 2 p.m. or so. He took in the scene as soon as he entered, then tried out his way to the pool through the shower area.

A few minutes later, after I looked over the soccer field and far entrance, I spotted him and two buddies confabbing at the locker-room door, none of them wrist-banded.  The only way would have been through that soccer-field door.

It’s easy if you know how.

Next time you’re really mad at Congress, read what Jonathan Swift wrote about the Irish Parliament in 1736:

Let them, when they once get in,
Sell the nation for a pin;
While they sit a picking straws,
Let them rave at making laws,

While they never hold their tongue,
Let them dabble in their dung:
Let them form a grand committee,
How to plague and starve the city;
Let them stare, and storm, and frown
When they see a clergy gown

Let them, ere they crack a louse,
Call for th’ orders of the house

Let them, with their gosling quills,
Scribble senseless heads of bills ;
We may, while they strain their throats,
Wipe our arses with their votes.

That’s from “The Legion Club.”  The big Protestant landowners were cheating the Church of Ireland (Anglican) clergy of their due, hence the “clergy gown” reference. 

“Crack a louse” is to smash it after picking it — off one’s head, for instance.  For us maybe “pick a nose.”

Read the rest of it here, p. 547 ff.

Go here for very pungent assessment of last night’s agree-to-disagree summit at which the president drank Bud Lite:

Absolute crap beer for an absolute Bullshit moment. This fine Teaching moment on race( brought to you by the Jackson Family Budweiser Distributorship) , like Obama’s Philadelphia Thigh Tingler, where Reverend Wright’s idiocies became America’s problem, because Young Barry dug his creed, is pure bullshit and yet another nuanced way to avoid a problem of his own making for Barack Obama – not President Obama – Barack Obama – the guy who can not admit a mistake.

Also very good on the main subject, beer.  Am keeping cans of Milwaukee’s Best in the fridge door these days.  Few months back, I kept High Life quarts next to the milk, which in my golden years I find myself drinking more of — the milk, I mean.

What this tells you is that while I too abhor Lite, I do not relish the richer non-U.S. stuff, which I find harder to digest.  My delicate stomach, you know, especially at risk in these days of O. in the W.H.