Scenario: Jack goes quail hunting before school, pulls into school parking lot with shotgun in gun rack.
1958 – Vice Principal comes over, looks at Jack’s shotgun, goes to his car and gets his shotgun to show Jack.
2008 – School goes into lock down, FBI called, Jack hauled off to jail and never sees his truck or gun again. Counselors called in for traumatized students and teachers.

Scenario: Johnny and Mark get into a fistfight after school.
1958 – Crowd gathers. Mark wins. Johnny and Mark shake hands and end up buddies.
2008 – Police called, SWAT team arrives, arrests Johnny and Mark. Charge them with assault, both expelled even though Johnny started it.

Scenario: Jeffrey won’t be still in class, disrupts other students.
1958 – Jeffrey sent to office and given a good paddling by the Principal. Returns to class, sits still and does not disrupt class again.
2008 – Jeffrey given huge doses of Ritalin. Becomes a zombie. Tested for ADD. School gets extra money from state because Jeffrey has a disability.

Scenario: Billy breaks a window in his neighbor’s car and his Dad gives him a whipping with his belt.
1958 – Billy is more careful next time, grows up normal, goes to college, and becomes a successful businessman.
2008 – Billy’s dad is arrested for child abuse. Billy removed to foster care and joins a gang. State psychologist tells Billy’s sister that she remembers being abused herself and their dad goes to prison. Billy’s mom has affair with psychologist.

Scenario: Mark gets a headache and takes some aspirin to school.
1958 – Mark shares aspirin with Principal out on the smoking dock.
2008 – Police called, Mark expelled from school for drug violations. Car searched for drugs and weapons.

Scenario: Pedro fails high school English.
1958 – Pedro goes to summer school, passes English, and goes to college.
2008 – Pedro’s cause is taken up by state. Newspaper articles appear nationally explaining that teaching English as a requirement for graduation is racist. ACLU files class action lawsuit against state school system and Pedro’s English teacher. English banned from core curriculum. Pedro given diploma anyway but ends up mowing lawns for a living because he cannot speak English.

Scenario: Johnny takes apart leftover firecrackers from 4th of July, puts them in a model airplane paint bottle and blows up a red ant bed.
1958 – Ants die.
2008 – BATF, Homeland Security, FBI called. Johnny charged with domestic terrorism, FBI investigates parents, siblings removed from home, computers confiscated; Johnny’s Dad goes on a terror watch list and is never allowed to fly again.

Scenario: Johnny falls while running during recess and scrapes his knee. He is found crying by his teacher, Mary. Mary hugs him to comfort him.
1958 – In a short time, Johnny feels better and goes on playing.
2008 – Mary is accused of being a sexual predator and loses her job. She faces 3 years in State Prison. Johnny undergoes 5 years of therapy.

Email election humor:

We in Ireland, we can’t figure out why people are even bothering to hold an election in the United States.

What in Lord’s name are ye lads thinking over there in the colonies??

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Received from Scott Drum & numerous other sources.

via The Onion:

1:50 video

Illustration by Randolph Caldecott (1846-1886)

One of the people on the Fox Hunting email list this morning posted a link to this project Gutenberg edition of the Caldecott Picture Book illustrating the old comic song.

But it’s no fun without the music, so here’s Peter Bellamy singing it, too. 2:37 video

The Fox Jumps Over the Parson’s Gate is one of many examples of popular humor exploiting the irresistibility to man or beast, without respect to age, dignity, or sex, of the impulse to follow hounds after the fox.

The Clinton-Obama nomination battle viewed from a Star Wars perspective.

4:59 video

One of John Cole‘s commenters tipped everyone off to this truly disgraceful video of Barack Obama’a college band.

3:58 video

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All postings on the Michelle Obama “Whitey” Tape story.

3:43 video

Hilarious.

H/t to Karen L. Myers.

Iowahawk imagines what Barack Obama’s advice column for the lovelorn might look like.

Sample inquiries:

Dear Barry,

I’ve been married to the same wonderful man — Let’s call him “Jeremiah” — for 20 years. He’s a great provider and we live in a beautiful home. He dotes on me and treats me like a queen; even after twenty years he still brings me little gifts and opens doors for me. Best yet, our sex life is fantastic! Jeremiah enjoys spicing things up with role-play, such as “Adolf and Eva,” and we host weekly swinger get-togethers for like-minded couples. I know it probably must sound kind of kinky, but trust me – it keeps things interesting in “the boudoir.”

That’s where the trouble comes in. Lately it’s been hard for Jeremiah to step out of his bedroom character, even when we have company over. For example, the other night I was hosting bunco night for the neighborhood girls and Jeremiah came goose-stepping into the rec room in his black leather swastika thong and riding crop, screaming “Ein Volk, Ein Reich, Ein Fuhrer!!”

Frankly, it was somewhat embarrassing. I’ve asked Jeremiah to “tone it down” and save the Nuremberg speeches for the privacy of swinger’s night, but he refuses. Also, I think he may be clinically insane. I’m worried that if word gets out it may hurt our chances of getting membership in the country club. What should I do?

Confused in Hyde Park

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Dear Barry,

I am a graduate student at a large Midwestern university. Last semester I was seduced by an older female professor and we have been having a secret affair ever since. I know this is probably a “no-no,” but despite our age gap we share many common ideas and values, and she has been very helpful in lining up grants and scholarships for me. The trouble is I recently discovered that she is also a fugitive bomb maker from a radical neo-Maoist terrorist splinter cell affiliated with the Manson family. My conscience tells me I ought to break things off, but I’m worried how it might affect my GPA. Please help!

Torn in Evanston

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Dear Barry:

As a widow with three beautiful teenage daughters, life can sometimes be a lonely struggle. Luckily my friends recently set me up on a blind date with a Syrian immigrant gentleman whom I will call “Tony.” Although Tony is not particularly handsome, and is living in the U.S. illegally, and is facing 36 federal indictments, and has terrible body odor, he has been very kind and generous to me and my girls.

Lately, I think our relationship has gone to the next level. Yesterday Tony offered to buy a beautiful spacious $1 million house for us. I told him I was flattered but I just couldn’t accept a gift like that from someone I had only known a few weeks. He told me not to consider it a gift, but a loan that I could pay back in small installments, such as having my girls dance at a local club he owns. Not only would I be getting back a return for all those expensive after-school ballet lessons, Tony says the girls will get to meet many important businessmen from Syria, Iran, Cicero, etc.

My question — do you think this might be Tony’s prelude to a proposal?

Curious in Chicago

Read the whole thing.

This was made by some liberal bed-wetters as satire, but I pretty much agree with 99% of it, so what the heck! I’m posting it entirely in earnest.

1:55 video

If cities full of liberals get flooded, that’s just too bad. And we won’t have to eat rocks, we’ll have all those tasty fish who’ve been mopping up the drowned liberals.

Scrappleface reports on Hillary’s latest populist gesture:

Hillary Totes Bible to Gun Range

(2008-04-13) — Sensing an opportunity to portray Sen. Barack Obama as elitist and out of touch after his remarks about “bitter” rural Americans who cling to guns, God and xenophobia, Sen. Hillary Clinton stopped after church today at an indoor gun range, where she fired roughly 300 rounds through a handgun she said she carries concealed everywhere she goes.

Her lower lip bulging from a dip of Skoal, Sen. Clinton put her Bible in her handbag, and drew out her own Para Ordnance Warthog .45 caliber pistol.

As reporters looked on, the Democrat presidential candidate emptied one 10-round magazine after another, with fair accuracy, at a human silhouette target.

“Small town folk like us,” said Sen. Clinton, “don’t cling to God or guns because we’re bitter about the economy, as my opponent suggests. We believe in God because he’s real, and we keep and bear arms as the best insurance against tyrants who would strip our freedoms if they didn’t fear our collective power.”

Read the whole thing.

Many of us living outside the urban communities of fashion have experienced mild astonishment at the capacity of mankind for complaint upon reading of protests stemming from the improvement and rehabilitation of formerly slum neighborhoods by new arrived upper middle-class residents, a process pejoratively termed “gentrification.”

The Onion reports that the a new upscale trend, fueled by increasing affluence and the limited supply of urban housing, has appeared, of even more alarming character.

Hat tip to Frank Dobbs.

David Kahane, at National Review, has lots of fun with those Clinton tax returns.

By now we’ve all had a chance to take a gander at the Clintons’ tax returns, and all I can say is that I’m proud to be a Democrat. Not since that poor Irish immigrant, Richard “Boss” Croker,” left the humble employ of Tammany Hall and retired to his horse farm in Ireland to breed Derby winners has the Party of the Little Guy paid off so spectacularly for a lifetime of “public service.” Talk about a Little Tin Box!

In the old days — say, way back in 1989 — everybody went into full high-dudgeon mode when the Cowboy (no, not Bush; the other one) went to Asia post-presidency and made a couple of speeches for a coupla mil. From the reaction, you would have thought Reagan had just turned over national-security secrets to the Chinese or something. And then Ronnie went back to his ranch, got Alzheimer’s and died.

But the Clintons changed all that. Not only has the Big He made piles of loot for himself, the little woman, the queen of England, the pope in Rome, and their twelve best friends, he’s also kept his big red nose planted firmly in the face of the American people, carping here, criticizing there, meddling to the best of his abilities, all the while trying to get his erstwhile helpmeet elected president of the United States, of all things.

And how did he do it? By inventing something that people want to buy? By coming out of nowhere to write a bestseller or a hot spec script? By putting Microsoft out of business? No, he did it by getting himself twice elected president with less than 50 percent of the popular vote, hanging on tenaciously despite calls from across the country for his resignation during the Starr Inquisition, and basically daring Trent Lott and Chief Justice Rehnquist, in full Gilbert and Sullivan drag, to convict him after the House impeached him. That made him a celebrity, and in this day and age…just spell my name right, baby.

Not for Bubba was Harry Truman’s example, putting on his fedora and going home to Bess in Independence, Mo. Or Ike’s retiring to Gettysburg. Or even Tricky Dick, stalking the beach at San Clemente in a sweaty blue serge suit and muttering darkly about the Jews. Whether gadding about the Middle East, showboating with his buddy Ron Burkle on private jets, or barking and wagging his fingers at reporters in South Carolina, Billy Blythe, the pride of the old gangster mecca of Hot Springs, Ark., has redefined the notion of a kosher post-presidency.

Which is why, out here in post-strike Hollywood, we’re for Obama.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like we’ve changed our minds about Monicagate; if we had to do it again, we’d do it again. Because we weren’t defending Clinton, we were defending, well… us. Our right to do whatever we want whenever we want and suffer absolutely no adverse consequences. Hey — we’re the guys who hate guns and violence and make movies about serial killers and sadistic torturers, but don’t blame us if some impressionable wing-nut yahoo takes us up on our suggestions and starts hanging women from meat hooks. That’s what free speech is all about.

The thing that Clinton established was not, as his wife, Nurse Ratched, would have it, that the personal is political; it was that political is now personal. And thus none of your business: Caught with your pants down in the Oval Office? Personal! Hiring your boy toy for a state job for which he was manifestly unqualified? Personal! Making dubious wire-transfers to your hooker’s prostitution agency? Personal! Using campaign funds to squire mistresses and maybe bed them down in a classy motel on the Upper West Side?

Personal! Personal! Personal!

You can practically feel our contemptuous spittle on your nasty, bigoted, right-wing faces, can’t you?

Read the whole thing.