President Biden Gives Presidential Medal to Hillary Clinton and George Soros. Flipping the Bird at Flyover Country

As Joe Biden's disastrous presidency wound down, he searched for ways to display his middle finger at the people living in Flyover Country—particularly those who voted for Donald Trump. Handing out prestigious honors to his political cronies was the perfect strategy.

Thus, President Joe Biden awarded George Soros and Hillary Clinton the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the nation's highest civilian award. 

Let's start with George Soros, one of the wealthiest men in America and a megadonor to the Democratic Party. Soros bankrolled so-called progressive candidates for various district attorney positions in many of the nation's cities. 

As reported by Thomas Hogan, Soros-backed candidates won D.A. races in "Manhattan, Los Angeles, Chicago, Philadelphia, Boston, Portland, San Francisco, . . . and other population hubs." Hogan quoted an estimate that 20 percent of Americans lived in districts served by prosecutors that Soros supported.

These prosecutors promised to focus on serious crimes rather than divert resources to prosecute non-violent offenders accused of petty offenses. But, as a Heritage Foundation article observed:

[O]nce these candidates get elected, they quickly turn their anodyne statements into something different and engage in prosecutorial nullification by refusing to prosecute entire categories of crimes, watering down felonies, refusing to ask for bail, and refusing to prosecute violent juveniles as adults. 

The result of this tragically flawed strategy was that crime rates went up in many of the cities where Soros-assisted prosecutors held office. 

And then there's Hillary, who also received a Presidential Medal of Freedom. It is now well known that Hillary and her presidential campaign created and circulated the false story that Trump was in collusion with the Russians during the 2016 presidential campaign.

The Wall Street Journal summarized this tawdry tale in a 2022 editorial:

[T]he Clinton campaign created the [Trump-Russia collusion] allegation, fed it to a credulous press that failed to confirm the allegations but ran with them anyway, then promoted the story as if it was legitimate news. The campaign also delivered the claims to the FBI, giving journalists another excuse to portray the accusations as serious and perhaps true.

As the Wall Street Journal correctly noted:

 [T]he Russia-Trump narrative that Mrs. Clinton sanctioned did enormous harm to the country. It disgraced the FBI, humiliated the press, and sent the country on a three-year investigation to nowhere. Vladimir Putin never came close to doing as much disinformation damage.

Biden's award to these two disreputable public figures was his way of showing his complete contempt for the American people.  But maybe this disgraceful episode will have an epilogue. If there is any justice in the world, perhaps Hillary will become the first Medal of Freedom winner to be disbarred.

Photo credit: Associated Press

 

Don't Go Hating on Chick-fil-A

 Not long ago, St. Mary's Medical Center, a hospital in Duluth, Minnesota, distributed free chicken sandwiches to staff members. That's good, right?

No, that's bad. Chick-fil-A, a popular fast-food chain, donated the sandwiches, and some St. Mary's employees complained. Why? The company's CEO once expressed his opposition to same-sex marriage. 

The hospital quickly issued an apology, written in classic wokespeak.

We have received feedback from some colleagues who were concerned or offended by this occurence [free sandwiches] , and we value colleagues feeling comfortable expressing their reservations. . . .

We would like to thank our colleagues who had the courage to speak up to widen our lens of inclusivity, and we appreciate all colleagues continuing to live our values of respect and justice.

A couple of thoughts. 

First, Chick-fil-A restaurants make very good chicken sandwiches, and their employees are invariably courteous. I live not far from a cluster of popular fast-food outlets: Chick-fil-A, Atomic Burger,  McDonald's, and Whataburger. When I drive by, the take-out line is always longest at Chic-fil-A.

Second, St Mary's Medical Center is in the healing businees, and its staff should be focused solely on their patients' health and wellbeing. Do hospital employees have time to complain about a free and delicious chicken sandwich?

One thing for certain, people who are admitted to St. Mary's should keep their political opinions to themselves. You wouldn't want your doctor to let you bleed out because you let it slip that you once ate a sandwich at Chick-fil-A.

Photo credit: NPR

Why get drunk on Bourbon Street? Reflection on the French Quarter Terrorist Attack

My father was a cattle stockman in southwestern Oklahoma. As a child, I often accompanied him as he drove his pickup truck from pasture to pasture to feed his cows.

Many of my father's pastures lined a country road, and the entrance gates into these properties offered a convenient spot to park a car. On countless occasions, I would find a couple of dozen beer cans and bottles, evidence of a late-night drinking party. As I recall, the revelers favored Jax, Stag, Schlitz, and quart bottles of Coors.

It was my job to pick up the debris and throw it into the bed of my dad's truck. I remember wondering why someone would want to get drunk on a lonely Oklahoma road. How much fun could that be?

Early this morning, a terrorist drove a truck down Bourbon Street in New Orleans' French Quarter, killing at least fifteen people and injuring many more. The street was crowded with New Year's revelers, many drunk.

I've walked down Bourbon Street many times over the years. Believe me when I say it's nothing special. Bourbon is just a street lined with bars, strip joints, souvenir shops, and tourist-trap restaurants, and parts of the street smell like urine. Why would anyone think they would have a good time getting drunk and strolling down Bourbon Street at three o'clock in the morning?

American life is becoming increasingly dangerous, particularly for people attending mass events. Last year, numerous people were killed or wounded at nightclubs, large parties, and sports venues.

Average citizens can do little to protect themselves from being victims at these events, but maybe they should reconsider whether some events are worth the risk.

Partying in the French Quarter in the middle of the night is risky every night of the year. Muggers and pickpockets lurk in the shadows, looking for victims who are alone or drunk. It's true that the risk of being killed by a terrorist on Bourbon Street is low, but the New Orleans crime rate is high.

Isn't there somewhere safer to let your guard down from consuming too much alcohol than Bourbon Street on New Year's Eve at three o'clock in the morning?

Bourbon Street after a terrorist attack on New Year's Day

Photo credit: Fox News

Feral Pig Ribs: Better Than Store Bought

 A tornado blew through Wilkinson County a few days ago and knocked out an electrical substation. Woodville, the county seat, and my family's home on Lake Mary lost power for several days.

Our butchered hog lay cut up and packaged in our refrigerator when we lost power, and I had a harrowing thought about what that hog would smell like when it thawed out if we didn't find a way to keep it from unfreezing,

Kim and I loaded all the pig meat into ice chests, iced it down, and distributed it among various family members living in Baton Rouge. 

As we parceled the meat, I came across the ribs, which had been packaged in four freezer bags and were still frozen. Let's cook 'em!

Under normal circumstances, we would have slow-smoked the ribs in our electric smoker. However, our smoker was in Mississippi, where the power was out, so we elected to cook them in our kitchen oven in Baton Rouge. 

Here's our extemporaneous recipe:

• First, we marinated the ribs for about an hour in Italian salad dressing. Then, we removed them from the marinade and applied a dry rub of salt, black pepper, cajan pepper, and garlic powder.

• Next, we prepared a glaze of honey, a little whiskey, butter, wine vinegar, and barbecue sauce.

• After we slathered the glaze on both sides of the ribs, we wrapped each rack in a double layer of heavy foil, put the packaged ribs in a shallow baking pan, and popped them into a preheated oven, taking care to place them with their fatty sides up.

• We cooked the ribs at 350 degrees for two and a half hours. Then, we unwrapped them, applied more glaze, and broiled the uncovered ribs for five minutes to make the glaze crunchy.

We ate the ribs with Bush's baked beans, which we supercharged with bacon and onions. The ribs paired nicely with a Stella Artis beer.

Our first attempt at cooking feral hog ribs was a success. They tasted better than the pork ribs I buy at the grocery store.

As you can see, we cooked our hog ribs using a scratch recipe. To achieve a similar result, you can use your favorite marinade and grocery store barbecue sauce. 

 Indeed, If you've ever cooked store-bought ribs, you can cook wild pig ribs the same way, and they will taste just as good. As my friends assured me after my family butchering our first feral hog. wild pigs taste delicious if you don't try to eat a big boar.

90-Second Food Review: A Dummy's Guide To Tex-Mex Restaurants

I grew up in western Oklahoma, a region unknown for its cuisine. Even as a small child, I longed for spicy food, but the only condiment in my family's kitchen cabinet was Worcestershire sauce.

When I was a little older, I discovered Tex-Mex food. My family began dining at the El Chico restaurant in downtown Oklahoma City. 

I loved that restaurant! I was astounded by the complimentary tortilla chips and salsa—manna from heaven. I always ordered a combination plate with a tamale, an enchilada, and lots of chili gravy.

Unfortunately, El Chico banned us from the restaurant after my father and grandfather got into a loud and acrimonious dispute over who would pay our lunch bill. To this day, a copy of my father's driver's license is taped to the cash register with this warning: 

Precaución. No sirvas a este gringo ni a su familia Fossey. ¡Llámale a la policía!

Since those days, I've eaten in over a hundred Tex-Mex joints, and I consider myself an authority on this ethnic cuisine. Here are some tips to help you find a good Tex-Mex restaurant.

First, a Tex-Mex restaurant's popularity is primarily based on the strength of its margaritas.  If the joint's margaritas contain adequate tequila (fortified perhaps with Everclear), you will give the eatery a five-star review.

How can you determine if the margaritas are sturdy? Order a house margarita on the rocks. When you've finished it, a little voice in your head will tell you to switch to beer.

Ignore that voice, order a second drink,  and chug it down. If the proprietor deprives you of your car keys, you'll know the margaritas are strong enough.

Here are a few other pointers: 

First, Mexican beer is the only beer to drink when eating Mexican food, and it must be ice cold. I favor the obscure brands: Carta Blanca or Victoria. My friends like Corona, but I find it tastes too much like Bud Light.

Second, your server should serve your food on a hot plate. Nothing tastes worse than tepid Mexican food, and a good Tex-Mex restaurant will present you with a searing platter that will give you a second-degree burn if you unwisely touch it.

Finally, Mexican food is inexpensive, and most Tex-Mex restaurants are consistently good. I ate many meals at El Patio restaurant on Guadalupe Street in Austin while working my way through law school in the 1970s. The dinner plate only cost a buck fifty.

Ever since those days, Tex-Mex has been my favorite comfort food. Hot and flavorful, with an orange glow rising from the melted cheese, a Tex-Mex meal signals to me that all's right with the world.

The Enchilada plate at an El Paso restaurant. What's not to like?

A Recipe from Flyover Country: Wild Pig Tenderloin and Honeycrisp Apples

 As I wrote in an earlier blog, my family killed a feral hog at our Mississippi home a while back, and we've been experimenting ever since about how to cook and eat it.

First, a young family member cooked an excellent wild hog and rutabaga stew. If you're wondering what to do with your rutabagas, I suggest you cook them with a feral pig pork shoulder.

More recently, my wife, Kim, selected the tenderloin, a choice cut from our feral hog harvest, and concocted a recipe for wild pig tenderloin and Honeycrisp apples. Here's the recipe:

• Cut the tenderloin into one-inch thick medallions and marinate them in Italian salad dressing or your favorite marinade. 

• Wrap each medallion in a thick slice of bacon, securing the wrap with toothpicks. 

• Sear both sides of the medallions in a hot skillet, using a tablespoon of vegetable oil to keep the meat from sticking. 

• Slice one Honeycrisp apple into wedges and arrange them among the pork medallions. 

• Add two tablespoons of Worcester sauce to the pan and drizzle a small amount of Steen's cane sugar syrup over the medallions and apples. 

• Place the pan in a preheated oven and cook uncovered at 350 degrees for 30 minutes or until the pork's internal temperature is 145 degrees. 

Kim served the tenderloin with baked Louisiana sweet potatoes seasoned with butter and brown sugar. Mustard greens or collard greens would also pair well with the pork.

Our next project: Mesquite Smoke Wild Hog Ribs!

Wild Pig and Honeycrisp Apples: Very Tasty

A woman is burned alive on the NYC subway: "A bad moon on the rise"

Well don't go around tonight . . .

[I]t's bound to take your life

There's a bad moon on the rise.

John C. Fogerty

An illegal alien from Guatemala was arrested a few days ago, accused of killing a sleeping subway rider by setting her on fire. According to witnesses, the attacker sat calmly in the subway car, watching his victim burn--perhaps even fanning the flames.

Plenty of subway riders witnessed the attack, and several people videotaped the horrific assault on their cellphones.  Apparently, no one thought to take off their winter coats and use them to smother the flames.

Perhaps bystanders were thinking of Daniel Penny, who subdued Jordan Neely, an addled homeless man who was terrorizing subway passengers riding the New York subway. Neely died, and Penny was prosecuted for criminal manslaughter. A jury acquitted Penny of the criminal charges, but he's being sued by one of Neely's relatives. 

What did subway riders learn from Penny's travail? In New York City, it's better to do nothing than intervene to protect someone from violence.

Veteran New Yorkers may dismiss this latest tragedy as an isolated event. After all, millions of people ride the NYC subways each week, and only one person has been burned to death. 

Of course, they're right. Nevertheless, I wonder whether city authorities are doing enough to keep New Yorkers safe.

I rode the Paris subways a couple of years ago and was surprised to see that the subway stations had transparent barriers that protected Parisians from falling or being pushed onto the train tracks.

What a good idea! I wonder why New York hasn't installed these safety devices. Wouldn't that be a better financial investment than hosting illegal aliens in luxury hotels?

And wouldn't it be wiser for the New York District Attorney's Office to praise people like Daniel Penny for stepping up to protect others from violence rather than spending public money to put these Good Samaritans in prison?

Of course, I speak from the perspective of a guy who lives in rural Mississippi next to a lake inhabited by alligators and invasive Asian carp. What do I know about life in urban America? 

As Lynyrd Skynyrd put it, I know a little and can guess the rest. The quality of life is deteriorating for average urbanites--the ones who buy their own groceries and don't have chauffeurs and private security guards. 

These folks may laugh at the people living in Flyover Country, dismissing them as "white Christian nationalists." Some urban progressives might go so far as to call rural Americans fascists because they refused to vote for the Democratic presidential candidate.

Urban Americans should consider the possibility that life in Flyover Country may be better than life in the inner cities--even though we don't live within walking distance of MOMA or a good Korean barbecue restaurant.

One thing for certain. If an illegal alien set a woman on fire in Wilkinson County, Mississippi, there would be no bystanders.  Someone would smother the flames with a camouflage hunting jacket, and a passerby with a gun would shoot the son of a bitch who set the blaze.

Photo credit: Associated Press