I think we should all pitch in and buy the American taxpayer a rape kit.

At break neck speed Democrat party leaders across our storied national capitol have raced to the nearest standing microphone to sing in unison the glorious praises of "cash for clunkers" like some foreign dignitary performance at an all girl elementary school in North Korea. They swarm around that electronic phallic symbol reminiscent of adult film stars waiting for the much prized money shot, which at least in their case it's clear who's getting screwed.

This program allowed $1 billion dollars of our money so that, at $4,500 a pop, anyone whom purchased a vehicle they could no longer afford to fill up could trade it in for a "fuel efficient" automobile. And the "overwhelming success," a mantra heard at each of these claims to victory, is judged by the ominous notion that if all the monies allotted was swallowed up within 2 weeks then the program must have "worked." So, that is now the standard for success, how fast one can give away my money. I'm sorry to inform them but I could of done that in one phone call by randomly picking out a name from the phone book and asking the voice on the other end if he would like one billion dollars. I sincerely doubt I'd have to go to a second name. My hands are officially in the air ... the onslaught of socially engineered fiscal policy fired at us like a Marxist Gatling gun perched on a grassy hill has so relegated ideas such as limited government and a private sector that is actually private to "old fashioned", and antiquated that I can scarcely mention the unconstitutionality of it all to my fellow citizen without causing he or she to break out into uproarious laughter. We are in post Constitution times. The founding fathers are mythical creatures, like so much Greek fables of Cyclops, Symitars and Sirens, their ideas and principles have become but faint "suggestions" at best to the youth, and whispered among the elderly in rocking chairs by firelight, puffing on corn cob pipes nostalgically pining for how things "used to be."

I look around my nation and ask what has happened here? And it hasn't been overnight. We're just on an accelerated program now, leaving me feeling like a child peering out of my father's car watching the stripes in the middle of the street blur into a single white line. We have gone from Commanders-in-Chief such as Jefferson to the likes of Jimmy Carter whom actually carried empty suitcases as president to make it appear as if he was in touch, while aides were instructed to carry the real luggage out of camera shot. The streets were once lined with men on their way to work and women escorting their children around various back to school clothing sales, now the men are holding hands and the women carry a small dog in a decorated purse, perusing a pet clothing store ... a nation truly going to the dogs. The culture, the fiscal psychotics, all of it gives me the feeling that I'm nearing the end of a long movie that started out Oscar worthy and ended with a whimper of bad cliches and missed opportunities. And nobody seems to care. We're approaching the ice berg and all hands are clicking around the TV remote watching American Idol rather then on deck. I scream this nearly daily, I write it nearly weekly, and in response people shrug their shoulders routinely. It is all so obvious what is happening, the systematic bankrupting of America enabling the president's much lauded "fundamental transformation", yet each time the president begins to speak people still swoon, chant, and heave in ever bigger sips of koolaide ... while all I see is a silhouette of America up on blocks in Fred Sanford's front yard.