As we watch President Barack Obama’s hand-picked crew abandon his sinking “vessel of hope,” the humiliated millions who elected him are drowning in his ocean of un-payable bailouts, and the lifeboats of unemployment he orders lowered are mere papier-mache rafts that swell up with useless pride and they too are lost.
“All is not lost,” someone whispers from the bow of the surely doomed ship, “we are entering a growth recession”
I have searched high, low and into parts of the middle trying to find a clear definition for “growth recession,” and as yet no one can accurately explain or define this fourth-grade attempt at making matters worse, or excuse me, better.
So I’ve turned to the only source known to me and Mrs. Brown’s cat that can define the indefinable — the weak side.
Please be forewarned that the weak side has been called many things — some are printable but most are not — and one of the few remaining things it hasn’t been called is a dictionary.
With that in hand, the weak side suggests that “growth recession” is anyone that’s still clinging to a regular job, while looking for a second or third to make ends meet at the end of each month.
The secondary meaning would be the people that the head of Walmart said “head to his stores at the end of each month, food card in hand,” to buy up the necessities needed to get by day-to-day. This also suggests a helping hand for the monthly sales figures for the rest of the big box stores.
The weak side started wondering about growth depression, so I jumped up and poured a glass of artificially-flavored fruit punch before my sugar level got to low and the rest of my brains oozed out of …
Hold up there, bucko. It came to me.
Growth depression is defined as Colorado House Bill 10-1365, or as the tree-hugging, granola-chewing lovingly call it, the Clean Air, Clean Jobs Act.
It’s painfully obvious that the maker-uppers of this bill have no clue about the real world, let alone the Western Slope.
Were they living here before Craig had the power plant and the mines? Unlikely, or they would have seen and been part of a small town growing to meet its needs and not busting out like Pinedale, Wyo.
They would have missed the “finger-lickin’ good” party we had when the chicken place opened its doors. Had they been here, they would have led the fight against Kmart opening on the frontier West of town.
No, I think this bunch of snotheads that dreamed up H.B. 10-1365 are the same yahoos from the planet stupid who wanted to protect the spotted owl from loggers in the Northwest. That turned out real swell — the danged owl didn’t even live there.
Here’s a tip for the bill maker-uppers: Don’t stand beside us filling our boots with … and then tell us the creek was a little deeper than you thought.
Each time I worry about our country’s future, I hear and read about men like Paul Collins and his buddy Devon Enochs, two proud Marines.
It’s beyond my capacity to explain the pride one has and receives each day being a member of the American military family.
The branch you chose to serve in doesn’t really matter — your service to our Republic does. As a combat veteran, my comrades and I salute you. Semper Fidelis.
Hey, you be careful out there.