Author Archives: Danny Quinney

Waht a wierd sroty…

Befroe I lancuh itno tihs psot tdoay.  I thugoht I wuold tlel you waht rsentely hpaneped.  As mnay of you may konw, my fmlaiy and I are HGUE bekirs.  Not on motroccyels, oh no.  I’m tlaknig biccyles.  We lvoe to rdie our bkies.  I’m awlays atfer my kdis to waer thier hemlets.  “Kdis,” I tlel tehm, “waer yuor hemlets.  Yuor mohter and I dno’t waht to hvae to feed you thourgh a starw,  and I gaurnatee you don’t wnat coloirng bokos for Chirsmtas, evrey yaer, for the rset of yuor lief.”

So the ohter day we are abuot to go on a bkie rdie.  I look all oevr the palce and cna’t fnid my hemlet anwyhere.  It’s oaky, I fiugre.  I’m a big boy.  I can hnadle it.  Wlel geuss waht?  I crsahed.  Not olny did I crsah.  I hit my haed.  HRAD!!!  No, no, no, dno’t wrory.  I’m oaky.  Sersiouly, I hvae nveer flet bteter.  The wreid thnig is, taht eevr scine the acicdnet, eevn thuogh I’m oaky, erveynoe esle semes a ltitle off.  Taht’s knid of odd, ins’t it?  I hit my haed and ervenyoe esle chnages.   It is lkie I’m lviing my own prviate epsiode of “The Twliihgt Znoe”.   Wierd, huh?

Andrew Breitbart

Andrew Breitbart

 I’ve mentioned before I’m a political junkie.  I love reading, watching and listening to anything political. BUT, anyone who knows me knows I’m a whimp.  A big ‘fraidy-cat.  I don’t talk about politics.  I’m not quick enough on my feet.  When talking to someone, if they show any sign of opposition I fold like a chair.  It isn’t until an hour later, alone, in my car I think of the ultimate comeback or argument.  Watching TV I’m really brave.  I’ll silently scream (and sometimes outwardly scream) at it, and the people on it.  I have never really been engaged in political process.  Until about 8 months ago.

What happened?  My wife and I visited a couple in our neighborhood.  He (William) was talking to me and said, “I just finished a book that I think you will enjoy.”  The then handed me “Righteous Indignation: Excuse Me While I Save the World!” by Andrew Breitbart.  As a rule, I don’t like borrowing books, I’m a slow reader and I would hate to spill Diet Coke all over it.

I had heard of Andrew Breitbart before, I remembered he was instrumental in the take down of Acorn, and I vaguely remembered him offering $100,000 if someone could provide video of anyone using the “N” word toward members of the Congressional Black Caucus, as certain members claimed they endured, as they were marching through the crowd of opponents to Obamacare, on their way to cram it down our throats.

The book literally changed my life.

It made me wake up.  I realized silently screaming at the TV doesn’t do anything.  That the reason the “left” was kicking our collective butts is they were playing an offense game, we one the “right” were always playing defense.  And I was sitting on the sideline. Watching.  In the last chapter of his book he said to fight the “Complex” you have to “use the right tactics, understand our opponents, and walk toward the fire.  Walk toward the fire.” He then went on to say, “Don’t worry about being called a racist, a homophobe, a sociopath, a violent heteronormative xenophobe with fascistic impulses.”  Now to be fair, I don’t know what any of those words mean.  But it made me realize I had to get involved.  I had to make my voice heard.  Even if my voice shakes.

So the next day, I emailed United Families International, who had been sending me emails the past year or so (I still have no idea how I found out about them) and asked if I could start writing for them.  They weren’t sure who I was, and I think they were a little leery of me at first.  They may STILL be leery.

I’m still afraid to talk, but I’ll write.

I found out today that Andrew Breitbart pasted away.  His website biggovernment.com says he died of natural causes.  He was 43.  One year older then me.  I never met Andrew  Breitbart, but I can tell you he was a patriot.  And it doesn’t matter if he knows it or not, he was influential in my life.

My thoughts and prayers go out to his family.

He will be missed.

Where we were a year ago, are we better off today?

My mom and aunt sent me an email a few days ago.  It was a “Report card” of the Obama administration.  “Are you better off today then two years ago” (it is obviously a year old).  Someone, before they forwarded it on, took it upon themselves to alter some of the numbers.  Some of the numbers were slightly off, some of them were way off, so I found the original article posted on The American Thinker.

Many of  the numbers now are worse then they were last year.  I’m going to try to find a more updated list (I’m sure someone has compiled one).  .

While looking at these numbers ask yourself “I’m I better off then I was a year ago?

Here is the original article in its entirety.
Two years ago today, Barack Obama was inaugurated as president of the United States.  Are you better off today than you were two years ago? Numbers don’t lie, and here are the data on the impact he has had on the lives of Americans:
January 2009
Current
% chg
Source
         
Avg. retail price/gallon gas in U.S. (regular conventional)
$1.83
$3.104
69.6%
1
Selected commodities:
       
     Crude oil, European Brent (barrel)
$43.48
$99.02
127.7%
2
     Crude oil, West TX Inter. (barrel)
$38.74
$91.38
135.9%
2
     Natural gas, Henry Hub, $ per MMbtu
$4.85
$4.48
-7.6%
2
     Gold: London (per troy oz.)
$853.25
$1,369.50
60.5%
2
     Corn, No.2 yellow, Central IL
$3.56
$6.33
78.1%
2
     Soybeans, No. 1 yellow, IL
$9.66
$13.75
42.3%
2
     Sugar, cane, raw, world, lb. fob
$13.37
$35.39
164.7%
2
Consumer Price Index (for all urban consumers)
211.1
219.2
3.8%
3
Producer Price Index:  finished goods
170.3
183.0
7.5%
3
Producer Price Index:  all commodities
171.0
189.9
11.1%
3
Unemployment rate, non-farm, overall
7.6%
9.4%
23.7%
3
Unemployment rate, blacks
12.6%
15.8%
25.4%
3
Number of unemployed
11,616,000
14,485,000
24.7%
3
Number of fed. employees, ex. uniformed military (curr = 12/10 prelim)
2,779,000
2,840,000
2.2%
3
Real median household income (2008 vs 2009)
$50,112
$49,777
-0.7%
4
Number of food stamp recipients (curr = 10/10)
31,983,716
43,200,878
35.1%
5
Number of unemployment benefit recipients (curr = 12/10)
7,526,598
9,193,838
22.2%
6
Number of long-term unemployed, in millions
2.6
6.4
146.2%
3
Poverty rate, individuals (2008 vs 2009)
13.2%
14.3%
8.3%
4
People in poverty in U.S., in millions (2008 vs 2009)
39.8
43.6
9.5%
4
House price index (current = Q3 2010)
198.7
192.7
-3.0%
7
S&P/Case-Shiller Home Price Index: 20 city composite (curr = 10/10)
146.4
145.3
-0.8%
8
Number of properties subject of foreclosure filings, in millions
2.82
2.87
1.7%
9
DJIA (12,403 on 6/3/08, date BHO clinched Dem. nomination)
7,949
11,825
48.8%
2
NASDAQ (2,480 on 6/3/08)
1,441
2,725
89.1%
2
S&P 500 (1,378 on 6/3/08)
805
1,282
59.2%
2
Global Dow
1,356
2,153
58.8%
2
U.S. rank in Economic Freedom World Rankings
5
9
n/a
10
Consumer Confidence Index (curr = 12/10)
37.7
52.5
39.3%
11
Present Situation Index (curr = 12/10)
29.9
23.5
-21.4%
11
Failed banks (curr = 2010 + 2011 to date)
140
164
17.1%
12
U.S. dollar versus Japanese yen exchange rate
89.76
82.03
-8.6%
2
U.S. money supply, M1, in billions (curr = 12/10 preliminary)
1,575.1
1,865.7
18.4%
13
U.S. money supply, M2, in billions (curr = 12/10 preliminary)
8,310.9
8,852.3
6.5%
13
National debt, in trillions
$10.627
$14.052
32.2%
14
         
Sources:
       
1 – U.S. Energy Information Admin.
       
2 – Wall Street Journal
       
3 – Bureau of Labor Statistics
       
4 – Census Bureau
       
5 – USDA
       
6 – U.S. Dept. of Labor
       
7 – FHFA
       
8 – Standard & Poor’s/Case-Shiller
       
9 – RealtyTrac
       
10 – Heritage Foundation and WSJ
       
11 – The Conference Board
       
12 – FDIC
       
13 – Federal Reserve
       
14 – U.S. Treasury
       

Hacky Sack

I’m sure most of you don’t know this, I have four kids. All boys.  When my oldest was 13 he was involved in the local Boy Scouts.  And, because he was involved, and the fact I couldn’t think of a good excuse fast enough then they asked me help out, I’m was involved too.

So after Scouts one night the boys invited me to play a game of “Hacky Sack” with them (if you don’t already know a Hacky Sack is a small round-ish beanbag that you kick around a circle of friends, trying to keep it off the ground as long as you can).  I played a little bit in High School, and really, I fear NO bean bag.  Besides, I’m hip, so I agreed to play.  The fact that I’m fatter then I was in high school, I get winded if I have to run to answer the phone, and they don’t use words like “hip” anymore didn’t even cross my mind.

So there I am, dumb, fat and happy kicking this little sack around and, I have to tell you, holding my own against these young men, when the other adult leaders see us.  Just to give you a mental image of these other adult leaders, they are all involved in the local Basketball leagues, one of them runs marathons and several times a year they ALL dress up like trees to go kill large animals.  In other words; perfect men for scout leaders, and then there is me, whose idea of “roughing it” is having to take the elevator down two floors to find the ice machine.    These leaders, apparently seeing me as easy prey, came over to join us.  In little time we adults crowded the young men out of the game, who decided it would be more fun to play basketball.  So there we are five adult men, in a circle kicking this sack around, when the scout leader kicks the sack over my head.  With, what I hoped, would be described as  “the speed and agility of a great athlete” (but I’m sure it was described as “the pose, grace and fluidity of watching pigs mate”), I spastically kick my leg out in a valiant effort to save this bean filled sack from touching the floor.  Halfway down I realize gravity had me in her awful grip, and there was no stopping.  My hands flew out in a desperate attempt to stop what was inevitable.

As the screams of pain reverberated off the gymnasium walls I realized with horror that I had pulled a groin.  Oh yes, you read correctly.  I pulled a groin.  I’m just so glad it wasn’t mine!!!

Top One Percenters – and the “WTF” Generation

I write for United Families International every once in a while.  This is an article I wrote on November 9, 2011

Top One Percenters – and the “WTF” Generation

I don’t know who is in charge of making up the generation titles, “Baby Boomers”, “Gen X”, and “Gen Y”, but if the powers that be came to me, your humble narrator, to name the current generation, this Gen-Xer I would have to go with the “WTF generation”.  It’s all the kids talk about, “WTF, WTF, WTF”.  It is like the world didn’t exist before Wikipedia, Twitter, and Facebook, the kids these days they just… (what, what was that?  Oh… WTF is already an acronym?).  Well, let’s move on, shall we?

When the whole OWS (Occupy Wall Street) thingy started it meant exactly jackus squatus to me.  I have no problem with people protesting, I believe people should have the right to assemble.  And, to be honest, I understand their beef.  There is corruption on Wall Street, and those people should be held accountable.

Then they started in on the whole “we are the 99 percent” thing, I started to question their motives.  It seemed to me the “hope and change” crowd turned into the “divide and conquer” crowd.  The battle lines were clearly drawn to hate the rich.  I wanted to know who the 1 percent I was supposed to hate was before being lumped into having these guys represent me.  Especially since it seems the few legitimate protesters have been taken over by the drug addicted, rape legitimizing, anarchic, “when it’s okay to shoot “Fascist” Police Officers”  left-wing choo-choos.

According to Kay Bell of bankrate.com  Top 1 Percent: How Much Do They Earn?  in order to be considered a member of the ultra elite/hated 1 percent  you need to have a household income of $343,927.  Now for the record, I’m DEFINITELY NOT a one percenter.  And I don’t hate them, I’m not jealous of them, I’m envious of them.  If I could come up with a good idea, work hard, and sell my goods or service and become a one percenter, I would be all over it.  In fact if someone is willing to teach me, I’m all ears.

Three-hundred-thousand as a household income, although it is enough zeros to impress my accountant, doesn’t sound like that much money.  Pretty much any celebrity, sports figure, anyone mildly famous, and…oh…roughly 44% of New York City residents in 2007 were in the top one percent of earners.

According to Kay Bell, “The 1.4 million Americans in the IRS’ top taxpayer category in 2009 reported nearly 17 percent of all the country’s taxable income. From those filers, the IRS collected $318 billion or almost 37 percent of all the individual taxes paid in 2009”.  Obviously the top 1 percent aren’t all Wall Street tycoons.  Now, I’m not excusing Wall Street at all, but after listening to some of the complaints it seems to me there is plenty of blame to go around: Congress, 1600 Pennsylvania Ave, and even the Universities, for those who are complaining about the cost of tuition.

For those complaining there aren’t any jobs, go make one.  America is still the land of opportunity.  Some five years ago Mark Zuckerberg was a poor college kid, today he is one of the riches men in the world.  I’m not saying it’s easy.  But if you have time to occupy a little piece of sidewalk for a month, you have time to lay the foundations for something meaningful.

Just for fun, let’s say we take the top 1 percent and we took ALL their money.  Taxed every penny.  Two things would happen.  1) it wouldn’t change the “parade candy” spending policies of Washington, it would just embolden them to spend more, 2) All you would have done is create a brand new top 1 percent.  That is why whipping up the masses to grab their torches and pitchforks toward one group is less then clever.  Besides, a mob doesn’t know when to stop.  That was the difference between the French Revolution and the American Revolution.

So, what should do we do? WTF just get involved.  Let your kids, friends, co-workers, spouses, or life-partner-of-the-month know where you stand.  WTF you don’t have to “be out there”, to get involved.   Oh, and remember WTF is for Wikipedia, Twitter, and Facebook.  Be educated on the facts and then be involved.

My Most Embarrassing Moment


My most embarrassing moment

 Two things happened recently.  First thing – it’s my birthday today.  Now I don’t want to be showered with gifts from all of you, like I was last year.  Really, I have always found that cash is the best gift.  That way you don’t have to worry if whatever you got me is going to fit, if I already have one, if I’m going to need the receipt to return it, or anything like that. Cash…cash.  Yes.  That is answer. The second thing: I was recently talking to a co-worker.  We kind of made it a game, where we were asking questions back and forth.  The combination of those two things has really made me take stock of my life.  In my 42 years of meandering upon the face of this earth, I have come to accept certain inalienable truths; One of which is I have made many, many mistakes.

I was thinking about my most embarrassing moment.  Ohmigosh.  It was horrible. Worst experience ever.  Imagine this.  I’m completely naked, wet, and covered with blood.  I could not stop crying.  Everyone in the room was staring at me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t communicate.  It was horrible.  Seriously, I hated being born.

And what do I get to do today?  Commemorate the embarrassing moment.  I’m forced to remember it very single year.

Let’s talk about SEXT

Let’s talk about SEXT

I hate to brag, but I’m probably the stupidest person I know.  Want an example of my dumbery?  Take women for instance.  To me, women are like cellos.  I don’t know anything about them either.  How did I learn so much about opposite sex?  I can trace my knowledge to when my father and I had “the talk.”

We were driving for a family fishing trip, for some reason he and I were alone, which was unusual because I have six siblings.  We had recently driven out of the range of the radio, when he asked me, “So, what do you want to talk about?”  I replied, “Whatever you want.” He asked, “Do you want to talk about sex?”  Being a teenage boy the idea my dad even knew what that was kind of grossed me out.  I remember replying, “Father, as engrossing and intriguing as that subject may be, being as how I am a teenage boy and have a natural inclination, and curiosity toward said subject, I fear this is something I would rather not broach with you on this occasion.   However, given time to mentally prepare, you could pontificate with me at a later date.”  That’s how I remember answering.  The truth is closer to, (rolling down the window) “Dad, slow down.  I see more cows.  MOOOOOOO!!!!”

I have since regretted not having the talk.  He did say if I had any questions he would be happy to answer them.  I’m in my forties, and have four kids, might be a little awkward to go to him now.

Recently Planned Parenthood (PP) in Denver, Colorado has launched an “ICYC” (In Case You’re Curious) texting program.  Taking “Sexting” to a new level. Anytime your child has a question about sex, they can text PP and someone on the other end of the phone will text back an answer.  Yes, now parents can sleep soundly at night knowing their son or daughter can have a one-on-one chat session with a Planned Parenthood operative, completely unchecked, or supervised, on a phone, probably paid for by them.  According to an article by Rita Diller, “Planned Parenthood stands to do more one-on-one damage to adolescents through its sex message texting service than through any form of communication it has yet bridged.”

(Quick question: If you get sexted by someone you don’t like. Does that mean you just got molexted, or violexted?)

What could go possibly go wrong with this program?  To put things in perspective, imagine if I invited a 14 year old girl over to my house to have a private chat about sex.  Not only would I be super creepy, I would also be worried about having my teeth (justifiably) kicked in by the girl’s father.  I don’t want to confuse you with technical jargon, but this is icky.

As a parent, or a teen, you don’t know who is at the other end of the phone.  Conversations can evolve, and you can’t know a person motives.  As painful as it is, parents, you need to have an open dialog about sex with your teenagers.  It’s embarrassing, it’s uncomfortable – they may know more about sex then you do, but you have make sure it isn’t a taboo subject.  They are going to find out, wouldn’t you rather it be from you?

The New York Times, had a article describing this and similar programs.  It said of one such program, “Now, through the Illinois Caucus for Adolescent Health, Mr. Chavez texts and blogs, with a focus on gay teenagers, about such subjects as what to do if a condom breaks, which clinics are gay-friendly and where to find low-cost lubricants — “things people need to know on the fly,” he said.”

The only thing I know about flies is they spread disease – it’s probably a good idea to keep yours zipped up.

Live and Let Live

Live and Let Live

Anyone who knows me knows I’m a “Live and Let Live” kind of guy.  I don’t get easily shaken.  You do your thing, I’ll do my thing.  Whatever.  As an example: I have recently seen a few spiders at the house.  I’m not by ANNNNY stretch of the imagination a spider lover.  They give me the heebie jeebies, but like I said, “Live and Let Live”.

So, when a few days ago I notice a spider web over my head as I’m sitting at my desk, I didn’t think much about it, live and let live.  Today I look up and the spider web has “Some Pig” written in it.

You know, a guy can only take so much.  That’s it, they are ALL gonna die.

False Advertising….

 

I remember when I was a kid I used to “collect” comic books. I say “collect” because I only had like 10.  I remember reading a “Richie Rich,” or “Green Lantern” comic book (I still have them) and in the back of it were a bunch of small ads.  One ad had X-ray glasses where you could see through clothes, another was a “Whoopee Cushion,” and then there was the object of my desire.  “Sea Monkeys.”  Remember those?  In the advertisement the Sea Monkeys looked like little people.  If I remember correctly, one of them was even carrying a brief case.  I knew one thing at this young age.  I HAD TO HAVE SEA MONKEYS.  I wanted a little world of my own.  Where I could watch them go to and from work.  They would love me as I sprinkled food to them, and, if they ever made me angry, they would incur my wrath as I violently shook their jar.  I BEGGED my Mom for sea monkeys.  Finally (probably to get me to shut up) she bought me my coveted prize.  I sprinkled the dry contents of the packet and waited.  In a few days I saw movement.  I was thrilled.  A short time later, things were swimming around. The “little people” I was so excited to watch and love, looked like a jar full of “BACK WASH.”  Not only was I devastated, I was kinda grossed out.

Up to that point, in my young life, it was the most blatant form of false advertising I had run into.  That is, of course until the movie “The Never Ending Story.”

 

 

My thoughts on Valentine’s Day…

 

First of all, I love my wife.  Second of all, I hate Valentine’s Day.  HATE IT.  To me Valentine’s Day isn’t a foo-foo lacy day, filled with pink hearts that ends up with the two of you doing “married things.”  To me it is a day filled with a constant reminder of how I’m a screw up when it comes to love.  Where, if I’m LUCKY, we end up doing “married things.”

Jim Gaffigan said it best when, talking about a pitch for Valentines day, he said, “How about a holiday all about awkwardness and failed expectations?”

No gift is appropriate.  No gift is the right one.  As a man I naturally want my wife in lingerie 24/7.  To me it is in similitude to wrapping presents during Christmas.  My theory being that it is fun to unwrap them (wicked grin).  PFFFFFFFFFF. . . yeah right. It took my new bride (lo those many years ago) about two seconds to explain to me that I’m only giving a gift to myself.

But Valentine’s Day is fun when you are teenager.  I remember one time a girl I was kinda dating made me one of the big poster-board signs with candy bars all over it with the names of the bars tying a sentence together.  Like this:

Hey “Sweet Tart” it would be worth a “100 Grand” if we blah blah blah.  You get the point.

Now, I have only been in one serious relationship, and I married her.  So I never went through the “break up” drama.  But I always thought it would be fun to break-up using this same concept.  Of course if you’re breaking up why confine yourself to only the candy aisle?  I say use the whole store.

“Lettuce” call it like it is.  I know you think you’re a “Rock Star” but really you’re more of a “Monster.”  So let’s take that “Red Bull” face of yours and put it back in the “Vault.”  I look at your body and “I can’t believe it’s not butter.”  I mean just look at your nasty “Mounds”.  Your “eggs” are past the expiration date, and your “Milk” has gone sour.  It is seriously a “Country Crock” and gives me the “Snickers” that you believe it would ONLY take a “100 Grand” to get your “Tub O’ Lard” to “Slim Fast.”  I don’t want to ever see you again, not “Now or Later.”

Seriously, don’t you think that would be a fun way to break up?