At the risk of becoming a political forum...

Anyone who knows me, knows that I run from political discussions. What is not always known, though, is my reason for running. Most assume that I am trying to bury my head in the sand. Or, that I don't know anything about the subject. Some are wise enough to realize that it's just not acceptably discussed, along with religion. But the real reason is that no one is interested in hearing what I have to say. Well, since this man is much more knowledgeable and experienced and qualified to present a point, I'm going to recommend reading his article. And I'm going to guess that zero people will read it (not because they aren't interested in the subject matter, but because it has more than one paragraph). I'll put the link right here at your fingertips... and, as they say... you can lead a horse to water...
*wink wink*

http://www.lewrockwell.com/orig4/featherstone2.html

(Hope you don't mind, Charles)

[I]t is a false deduction that one thousand human beings are worth more than one; that would be tantamount to regarding men as animals. The central point about being human is that the unit "1" is the highest; "1000" counts for less.
-- Soren Kierkegaard

Wait Until Your Father Gets Home

Read this:
http://www.lewrockwell.com/orig4/featherstone3.html

And then this:
Our Father, the State. After having read Charles H. Featherstone’s excellent article on the same, I’m still a little confused. Clearly, allowing ourselves to be manipulated in the name of parenthood, by the state, is beyond idiotic. But how would one go about tearing loose of those ironclad apron strings without the benefit of a blowtorch? Every single thing we do is regulated. We begin by being “registered” and given a number. We are put on a schedule of immunizations, and when thrown into the public school system we are initially branded suitable, based on our rigid adherence to said schedule. We cannot do anything without our registration number and proof of submission. Not without a fight, anyway. So on we go. We give birth to our babies, sign them up and wait for opportunity to throw them out. Why should we think they would grow up to do anything but the same? This is such a basic and intrinsic part of our society, leading to parents uttering the words (right in front of their child), “God, I can’t wait until he starts school so he will be out from under my feet!” We put them in varying regimented institutions, thinking we have opted for some measure of freedom by “choosing” public or private (and even home) schools. But it’s all regulated. Our big daddy is watching us. (While we have been worrying about big brother, our daddy has enlarged to gargantuan proportions.) There is so much more going on, but there’s no need to go into it here. It’s just more of the same. Maybe in a different color, waving a different banner, wearing a different T-shirt. The long and short of it is, why are we amazed at the “daddy party” mentality, when it’s a true reflection of our own parenting? Yikes, indeed. We are sacrificing our children for our own sakes and we’ve been doing it so long, they don’t even bother to scream anymore.

The Shakespeare Authorship Debate

You might say, "Who cares who wrote the plays and sonnets?"
I care.

http://www.shakespeare-oxford.com/flawlife.htm

As Charles Burford (Shakespeare Oxford Society President, 1995-1997) has said in his talks on the authorship, "If you get Shakespeare wrong, you get the whole Elizabethan era wrong."

A Message from the Earl of Oxford:

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more;
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea and one on shore,
To one thing constant never;
Then sigh not so,
But let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny;
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into hey nonny, nonny!

Sing no more ditties, sing no more,
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer first was leafy.
Then sigh not so,
But let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into hey, nonny, nonny!

For Brynleigh Jade:

Sweet light that shines from those bright eyes,
Makes heaven wish for bigger skies.
The sun could warm the darkest place,
Yet still not match that precious face.
And in her orbit, gorgeous moon,
Seeks to make a dim world swoon.
But all her efforts pale in vain
When those small sighs our hearts obtain.