The Ten Cannots

In 1916, a minister and outspoken advocate for liberty, William J. H. Boetcker, published a pamphlet entitled The Ten Cannots . “You cannot bring about prosperity by discouraging thrift. You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong. You cannot help the poor man by destroying the rich. You cannot further the brotherhood of man by inciting class hatred. You cannot build character and courage by taking away man’s initiative and independence. You cannot help small men by tearing down big men. You cannot lift the wage earner by pulling down the wage payer. You cannot keep out of trouble by spending more than your income. You cannot establish security on borrowed money. You cannot help men permanently by doing for them what they will not do for themselves.”

A century later, Democrats are utterly ignorant of these principles. In fact, Barack Obama’s campaign is built around their antithesis—“The Ten Cans.”

I thought this was interesting

I got this in an email and enjoyed the simplicity

Our Tax System Explained: Bar Stool Economics
Suppose that every day, ten men go out for beer and the bill for all ten comes to $100.
If they paid their bill the way we pay our taxes, it would go something like this:

The first four men (the poorest) would pay nothing.
The fifth would pay $1.
…  Read MoreThe sixth would pay $3.
The seventh would pay $7.
The eighth would pay $12.
The ninth would pay $18.
The tenth man (the richest) would pay $59.
So, that’s what they decided to do.
The ten men drank in the bar every day and seemed quite happy with the arrangement, until one day, the owner threw them a curve. ‘Since you are all such good customers,’ he said, ‘I’m going to reduce the cost of your daily beer by $20.’ Drinks for the ten now cost just $80.
The group still wanted to pay their bill the way we pay our taxes so the
first four men were unaffected. They would still drink for free.

But what about the other six men – the paying customers? How could they divide the $20 windfall so that everyone would get his ‘fair share?’
They realized that $20 divided by six is $3.33. But if they subtracted
that from everybody’s share, then the fifth man and the sixth man would each end up being paid to drink his beer.
So, the bar owner suggested that it would be fair to reduce each man’s
bill by roughly the same amount, and he proceeded to work out the
amounts each should pay.

And so:
The fifth man, like the first four, now paid nothing (100% savings).
The sixth now paid $2 instead of $3 (33%savings) .
The seventh now paid $5 instead of $7 (28%savings) .
The eighth now paid $9 instead of $12 (25% savings).
The ninth now paid $14 instead of $18 (22% savings).
The tenth now paid $49 instead of $59 (16% savings).
Each of the six was better off than before. And the first four continued
to drink for free.

But once outside the restaurant, the men began to
compare their savings. ‘I only got a dollar out of the $20,’declared the sixth man. He pointed
to the tenth man,’ but he got $10!’
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ exclaimed the fifth man. ‘I only saved a dollar, too.
It’s unfair that he got ten times more than I got’ ‘That’s true!!’ shouted the seventh man. ‘…  Read MoreWhy should he get $10 back when I got only
two? The wealthy get all the breaks!’ ‘Wait a minute,’ yelled the first four men in unison. ‘We didn’t get anything at all. The system exploits the poor!’ The nine men surrounded the tenth and beat him up.
The next night the tenth man didn’t show up for drinks, so the nine sat
down and had beers without him. But when it came time to pay the bill,
they discovered something important. They didn’t have enough money
between all of them for even half of the bill!
And that, ladies and gentlemen, journalists and college professors, is
how our tax system works. The people who pay the highest taxes get the most benefit from a tax reduction. Tax them too much, attack them for being wealthy, and they just may not show up anymore. In fact, they might start drinking overseas where the atmosphere is somewhat

David R. Kamerschen, Ph.D.
Professor of Economics
University of Georgia
For those who understand, no explanation is needed.
For those who do not understand, no explanation is possible.

Immediate Thoughts

Outside my window. . .the dry leaves are blowing around.

I am thinking. . .I need to get up and take a nice, hot shower.

From the learning room. . .not a lot right now, it’s night time.

I am thankful for. . .hot fudge to put on my icecream. Hey, don’t judge me. We all have our vices!

From the kitchen. . .is yesterday’s leftover tortilla soup…I’m thinking lunch tomorrow?

I am wearing. . .sweatpants, which if I’m totally honest is not the most flattering piece of clothing I own, but definitely the most comfortable.

I am creating. . .a notebook with all my house swatches/colors in it.

I am going. . .to learn to relax and go with the flow.

I am reading. . .Breakthrough by Suzanne Somers. Very Interesting!

I am hoping. . .this cold/stuffy nose goes away.(the stuffiness goes away, not my nose. Ewww…)

I am hearing. . .Greta talking on FOX.

Around the house. . piles of stuff. Everywhere. One day we will move. One day we will be settled. One day life will have normalcy???????.

One of my favorite things. . .cozy pj’s and a fluffy robe. Okay, so that is two things. I can count. I just couldn’t decide.

A few plans for the rest of the week. . .watching a scary movie tomorrow night while handing out candy to the trick or treaters.

Here is a picture thought I am sharing. . .sorry I am not proficient at getting pictures on here yet. Don’t laugh at me. I mean it. It hurts my feelings when you laugh at me:) Just kidding.

Go Joe! Go Tito!

I like Joe the plumber. I think he is a real “everyday” guy.  Along with Joe we now have a new “everyday” guy in town. Tito the builder. He is a hispanic man and he has bravely stood up and spoke his mind. From what I understand he started out as a janitor and now owns his own construction business. He has made some good points…Obama’s socialist agenda would entail “throwing the crumbs to the poor guys down there. I’ll give you this little bit and you’ll be happy with it. ” He DOESN’T want the government’s crumbs. He wants the American dream. He sees the big picture. I like him. He is gutsy. I hope all the Joes and Titos out there in America make it to the polls on Tuesday. Let their voices be heard!!

There once were two guys named Tito and Joe

Who innocently wanted to know

” Why do you want to spread wealth around?”

“Sir, We fear your policy is not sound.”

Poor guys thought they were just having some political banter,

Little did they know the media would descend in anger.

Yet, they stood tall and what they say is so true…

They stand for the “everyday” guy….they stand for you.

It is no fun being sick

I woke up this morning–well at least I had my eyes open. Barely. It was around 7am. It was still pitch black in the bedroom except for the green glow from the digital clock. I could barely breathe as my nosed was totally stuffed up. My head hurt and I was cold. I love the fall weather, but we are in that in between stage where the house heat makes it too hot inside, but no heat and one freezes especially in the morning. Ugh. I can’t win. I got up and put on my fluffy robe. The thick one. The thick one that weighs about 100 lbs. Hey, but it’s warm. I went out to the kitchen to start the coffee. Hot liquid would help with the stuffy head, right? I’m going with that.

It’s just one of those days. I’m shuffling around as if I’m 100 years old, which by the way is what I feel like. I already took my get well quick pills (from Arbonne) along with my hot coffee. Hopefully, I will feel better soon. Did I mention that my eyes hurt too? I’ve been awake for 2 1/2 hours already…maybe it is time for a nap.

In His Own Words…

I know that many of my blogs have been political lately but, being only a week away from the presidential election I am not thinking of much else.

I want you to read an excerpt from Barak Obama’s book, DREAMS FROM MY FATHER:A STORY OF RACE AND INHERITANCE. Barack Obama talks of his time at Occidental College in California. Here’s a quote from pages 100 and 101:

To avoid being mistaken for a sellout, I chose my friends carefully.The more politically active black students.The foreign students.The Chicanos.The Marxist Professors and the structural feminists and punk-rock performance poets.We smoked cigarettes and wore leather jackets.At night,in the dorms,we discussed neocolonialism,Franz Fanon,Eurocentrism,and patriarchy.When we ground out our cigarettes in the hallway carpet or set our stereos so loud that the walls began to shake,we were resisting bourgeois society’s stifling constraints.We weren’t indifferent or careless or insecure.We were alienated.”

Now, as I read the words, ” I chose my friends carefully”  jumped out at me. If that was important enough for him to write, it obviously meant something to him.  So, this makes me wonder…if Mr. Obama is the type of disciplined man that chooses his friends carefully…..then why sit in a pew of a Pastor Wright for 20 years? Why have associations with a long list of people that have questionable character? Barak Obama strikes me as the type of man who knows EXACTLY what he is doing when he CHOOSES the people for his inner circle. I’m beginning to believe more and more that he CHOSE to overlook the histories of the people he spent time with. Not because he was ignorant of their histories, not because he even disagreed with thier views,  but because he used each of those people as a means to an end. Mr. Obama is obviously a well educated and driven man. It is my opinion that in his mind if he had to swim in the putrid pool with this long list of people in order to further his political ambitions then so be it.

Go Megyn!

Megyn from FOX news sure doesn’t take any guff off anyone. An Obama spokesman, Bill Burton, was on this afternoon attempting to defend his candidate–defending Obama from Obama’s own words. A taped interview with Obama (from a local radio station–NPR Chicago) in 2001 was recently released. This radio interview was of Obama himself stating his socialist tendencies. He talked about redistribution of wealth….and this interview was years before his “slip” with Joe the plumber. I think this goes to show that this is nothing new with Obama. This is something he has agreed with for YEARS. Bill Burton was trashing FOX news for airing this interview from 2001, but the truth is it was from a CHICAGO radio station. Obama’s town, right???
This whole thing about wealth distribution is really getting on my nerves. Why should the top 25% of the tax PAYERS, give their money to the 40% that DON’T even pay ANY taxes? What is with that? For those that receive the money…..That just screams welfare. It screams government handouts. It screams an entitlement mentality. Seems to me that Obama wants to cap the American dream. Why would people want to work hard only to be forced to hand out their money to those who aren’t paying in anyway? Can anyone say resentment??????

A Modern Day Tale

This is a story that was written by another bloggy friend ( Take time to read it…

Following is a modern day fairy tale.

Once upon a time, an ordinary everyday woman named Ms. Rouge decided to open a bakery. You see, she was gifted in the art of making beautiful, delicious pies….chocolate ones, strawberry ones, coconut creme, key lime, pecan…every pie known to man could be made better and more tasty by Ms. Rouge’s talented hands.

Ms. Rouge knew that to open her own bakery she needed to hire some helpers to keep her bakery clean and spiffy. So she put advertisements in the newspaper and put a sign in the door. Many people walked by her help-wanted sign, but no one wished to be a menial dish washer. While she waited for help to arrive, she set to work.

Now Ms. Rouge belonged to the Green Earth Society and chose to grow her own ingredients in her own back yard. She spent hours tilling the ground, planting seeds, encouraging the sprouts, watering in the drought, spraying pepper spray to keep away pests. The villagers in town crowded around her garden plot, watching her work.

Who will help me plant these organic wheat seeds?

she asked.

Not I,” said Mr. Chien. “I don’t like the dirt.”

The other villagers wandered away. Some went to watch more TV, some hung out on the corner and played some football, others hurried out to the post office for their monthly check from the government. They were curious and wondered at the sweat beading up on Ms. Rouge’s brow, but not once did they offer to help.

Soon the time came for harvesting. The stalks of wheat looked strange standing up against the backdrop of the crowded city streets. The fruit trees were heavy with apples, peaches, and plums. Because it was a small patch, Ms. Rouge couldn’t rely on heavy farming machinery to cut the wheat for her. She had to do it by hand. The scythe weighed nearly as much as she did.

Would anyone like to help me harvest this wheat? I’ll give you a share of what we gather,” she panted.

But none of the villagers had any use for grain. They could buy flour already milled at the grocery store. Why should they expend so much energy for a few measly grains of wheat?

So Ms. Rouge harvested the wheat and the fruit all by herself and soon found herself knee-deep in grains that needed grinding. She scoured the internet and found a mill to grind her wheat, but it was expensive. She’d already spent much money on the bakery, the wheat, and the fruit trees, but she needed the mill in order to get her business off the ground. None of the villagers were interested in helping her purchase the mill, but they all stood around and watched after FedEx delivered it the next day.

Again, the villagers crowded around her strange contraption. Many of them had not seen such a thing in their lifetimes. And again, when she gasped from exertion in lifting the heavy bags and asked for a little help, no one had the time. They all scattered away to spend time pinging friends on MySpace and playing online poker.

Finally, the wheat was ground into a nice, organic flour. It was time for the baking to begin. Did anyone want to help her roll out the dough? Again, the villagers were too busy. She offered to pay minimum wage for some helpers, but many of the villagers were not willing to roll dough for $6.55 an hour. She did find a couple villagers who were eager for the work. They got up early and began baking the next day.

Soon a delicious aroma hovered over the village. The warm scents of apples and cinnamon, peaches, chocolate and sugar made a heady combination. The first pies were warm out of the oven, and the whole village turned out to see what was making that heavenly perfume.

They crowded around and in her bakery. Everyone wanted a taste of the delicious pies.

Wouldn’t it be neighborly for her to share her pie with us?” they asked each other in whispers that soon turned to shouts. Before long, the whole village circled her bakery, chanting in unison,

We want pie! We want pie! We want pie!

But Ms. Rouge didn’t want to give her pies away. She had invested almost all of her money and her sweat and tears in the making of this bakery, because baking pies was her dream. Why were these people demanding that she give them some of the pies that she’d worked so hard to make? These people who had the same opportunity that she had…these villagers who had walked past her “Help Wanted” sign and who had refused to lift one finger to help her grow her business…these villagers now had the audacity…the Audacity of Hope, perhaps, that she would just give away all of her hard work?

No, you can’t have any pie,” she shouted over their clamoring voices. “I offered to hire you to help me, but you wanted to play instead. I offered a chance for you to invest some sweat equity into my bakery, but you said you didn’t like working in the dirt. You strong men stood around and watched me break my back cutting down the wheat. You may buy some of my pie, but I won’t just give it away. No, you can’t freely share in my pie because you haven’t earned it!”

Having said that, she turned and gave wages and slices of pie to the few workers who had worked and sweated with her. Ms. Rouge, however, was in for a big surprise.

Just as she and her workers settled down to enjoy a hot steaming slice of pecan pie, a motorcade pulled up to the village. Sirens were blaring and a voice boomed over a loudspeaker.

Ms. Rouge….hand over your pie, please. This is the President speaking.

What? The President of the Village? Here? In front of her bakery? Flustered, Ms. Rouge stepped through the doorway as a man in a suit waved a fat file folder at her.

Everybody here wants some pie. We want to grow the pie. And then we want a slice of the pie,” the newly-elected President said to the rousing cheers and chants of the villagers surrounding the bakery. “We have a new direction in the village,” he continued. “Haven’t you heard?”

At that point the President’s economic adviser stepped up and informed her of the village’s new economic policy.

“We’ve been living here with decades being told government is the source of all the problems. The fact is we’re finding out we have to rely on government to solve some of these problems. … With new leadership we can change that sorry picture.”

Dejected, Ms. Rouge allowed the villagers to have–free of charge–her hard-earned pies. By the time they all tramped out of the bakery, over three-fourths of her inventory was gone. Because she’d spent so much of her money investing in wheat, fruit trees, and bakery equipment, the money she had left after she’d paid her workers their wages was paltry. She had to lay off two of her three helpers just to have enough left over to invest in another round of wheat.

After six months of being forced to give away her pies, Ms. Rouge closed the door on her bakery — and on her dream — for the last time. There was no incentive or joy in baking anymore. She was unable to keep up with the big-shop bakery around the corner and was losing more money than she was taking in. So much of her surplus earnings were being redirected by the Village Government that she had no extra to reinvest and improve her bakery.

The next day, Ms. Rouge showed up at the big-shop bakery around the corner, watching her new life unfold in gory detail. She joined in with the chanting,

We want pie!”

and then she shuddered as a moldy piece of smushed up pie filled with artificial fillers was placed in her outstretched hands.

Proverbs 6
Save yourself like a gazelle escaping from a hunter,
like a bird fleeing from a net.

Take a lesson from the ants, you lazybones.
Learn from their ways and become wise!
Though they have no prince
or governor or ruler to make them work,
they labor hard all summer,
gathering food for the winter.
But you, lazybones, how long will you sleep?
When will you wake up?
A little extra sleep, a little more slumber,
a little folding of the hands to rest—
then poverty will pounce on you like a bandit;
scarcity will attack you like an armed robber.

(My apologies to the original author of The Little Red Hen.) If we do not rise up and pray and vote (in that order), we might just find ourselves being forced to give away what little pie we have left.

By the way, if you clicked on the link noted in the text, you’ll see that the words of the President of the village are not fiction. They are fact. They were spoken by Senator Obama yesterday, and the crowd around him roared…

We want pie! We want pie!

My question to them, and to you is…who will bake these pies? Will the ants stand by and let the grasshoppers run over them?

Visiting In Texas

Scott and I and the kids are visiting family in Texas this week. (Part of the reason I haven’t been blogging the past few days.) Now when you think of Texas what do you think of? Dallas, Austin, Houston? Texas Longhorns? The Alamo? Don’t mess with Texas? Yeah, me too. Texas is all that and then some. Texas is hot. Texas is flat. But Texans love their state that is for sure. Brittany said (and I agree) that Texas is the only state people wear clothing that has the state name all over it. This is not including state university/college clothing. I’m talking shirts that say things like: Texas Girl, Texas Cowboy, Texas is #1, Don’t Mess with Texas, Everything’s Bigger in Texas etc. etc. Yes, these people LOVE their state.
On a drive this morning Scott and I were taking pictures. We came across a country store on the side of the road. We had to take a picture of it. The big sign out front stated, JUICY HAMBURGERS one one side, and LIVE BAIT on the other. Now, if that doesn’t sound yummy then I don’t know what is. Maybe that is the secret! Maybe that is why everything is bigger in Texas. People just don’t eat their veggies—they also eat lots of protein. Hamburgers and live bait…….now you know the rest of the story!

Um…I think I’m lost.

Yesterday I took the kids to a corn maze. Oakes Farm has a huge corn maze each year. We’ve gone the past 3 years so now it has become sort of a tradition. There are two regular mazes and one scary “Trail of Doom” maze. Bradley wanted to go on that one, but I did not. Since I didn’t want to go the other kids wouldn’t go…so Bradley settled and just did the regular mazes with us. He wasn’t brave enough to go on the Trail of Doom by himself! I wasn’t brave enough, period!
Anyway, Kendrick and Bradley split up from Breanna and me. They took the first maze and we took the second one…each maze took us about an hour to get through. We covered nearly 5 miles by the time we were done. I call that my exercise for the day.
Now, you have to understand that I am a landmark kind of a girl. I took at things around me to get my bearings. That is not really possible in a cornfield, where the stalks are 9 feet high. One really can’t see a whole lot… but more corn. Thank goodness that Breanna is more analytical and was trying to figure out the small hand map that we received. She was pretty good….and we only had to seriously back track a few times. Of course, by the time we got to the second maze it was dark and the moon wasn’t out so you could hardly see your hand in front of your face much less a map. I did have my cell phone which we sort of used to see the map, but it wasn’t all that much help in the big scheme of things. As it got darker I was getting a little creeped out. Anything could be in this thick corn. We were secluded out here in the middle of the country. I decided if anything jumped out at me from the corn, I’d break off a stalk and beat it to death. Hey people, your mind starts to play tricks on you!!
After roughly another hour we managed to walk out of the corn. Nothing had attacked us and we felt pretty good about the trek we had just completed.
Of course all this walking works up a hunger so I treated the kiddos to nachos and hot chocolates at the barn. While Breanna and I were waiting for our snacks, a skeleton zombie (VERY creepy! This guy was good!) walks up behind us. He stands there. He evidently “escaped” from the Trail of Doom. I didn’t realize he was there at first. But then I turned around and there he was. I wish I would have been thinking on my feet. I would have turned around and said to him, “Hey, you look really familiar. Don’t I know you? Didn’t we go to college together?” Of course, that would have taken the wind out of his sails a little bit, but it would have been funny. He looked like something out of Tales from the Crypt. So, that was our adventure. A cool Fall evening in the country, in the corn, with hot chocolate and zombies. What more could a girl ask for?