Commies love concrete
From an article written in 1986 by P.J. O’Rourke:
Usually, a plane ride gives me some distance on questions of dogma, the way a martini or a lungful of hashish does. We don’t call it “high” for nothing; that was slang three centuries before the Wright brothers. Whatever those microbes down there think is no concern of mine — unless I fly into the Soviet Block. Something’s wrong when harebrained ideas can be spotted from Olympian heights. On the outskirts of Warsaw, the whole countryside is scarred with the gravel pits and gray dust plumes of cement factories. Commies love concrete. [Read more →]
Whaddya know? President Obama is talking up the economy. Based on a drop in the official unemployment rate to just below 10% (9.7%, to be exact), the president said today that 
In Los Banos, California, last Saturday, a hunter waded into the water to retrieve his decoy ducks and almost found himself in Davy Jones’ Locker. (Well, alright: the bottom of a pond hardly qualifies as Davy Jones’ Locker, but I just love the expression and would like to see it return to common usage — or enter it for the first time — whether used appropriately or not.) The hunter had left his loaded shotgun on the ground, apparently, and his female Labrador stepped on it. The story (which I suppose only the hunter and the dog can fully vouch for) is that her stepping on it caused the safety to disengage and the shotgun to fire, hitting the man, who was about 45 feet away. 
