Time to Foreclose on America's Sub-prime President and Congress?

By John W. Lillpop

On a scale of 1 to 10, President Bush scored a resounding "F" with his pep talk on the sub-prime loan crisis. F, as in foreclosure!

To begin with, tweaking FHA rules slightly will do precious little because loan amounts are capped at around $360,000. In northern California, that amount of money will buy you a nice mobile home on leased land.

Likewise, refinancing adjustable rate mortgages through FHA sounds terrific. The reality, however, is that people caught in the sub-prime disaster are there because of poor credit history and or inadequate income which means that refinancing through FHA is unlikely.

Providing tax relief for those required to declare debt forgiveness as income could be helpful, but how long will it take to get that codified into the tax code?

Again, this is not likely to be of much help to those who do not have the money needed to make that mortgage payment due tomorrow and on each subsequent first day of the month.

Philosophically, both the president and congress are operating under the misguided notion that home ownership, AKA The American Dream, is an entitlement owed to the great unwashed masses by a socialist government obsessed with providing nanny services.

However, in a capitalistic society, the dream of home ownership should be viewed as an objective, an opportunity available to those with the determination, prudence, smarts, and work ethic to succeed.

Just as not all people are meant to be college graduates, so it is that not all people are sufficiently capable and responsible to qualify for home ownership. Those facts are not within the prerogative of government to change, regardless of how well intentioned and compassionate.

Affirmative action has been shown to be unworkable in education and employment for years.

President Bush and congress need to understand that it will not work in housing either.

Growing Weary of Fred Thompson's Announcement Marathon

By John W. Lillpop

Fred Thompson may be precisely what America needs in our next president. He may be more conservative than Ronald Reagan, as aggressive on terrorism as Rudy Giuliani, as unyielding on illegal immigration as Tom Tancredo, and as strong on family values as Mitt Romney.

But when it comes to actually announcing his candidacy for the presidency, Fred Thompson seems overwhelmed, bewildered, and over matched.

Remember July 4th? That was supposed to be the day when Thompson would throw his hat into the ring and end conservative insomnia.

Well Independence Day has come and gone and conservatives are still having nightmares about a Hillary Clinton presidency. Or even worse, a Clinton-Obama ticket.

So where in the Hades is Fred?

With the media and most of the civilized world waiting to hear from the Law and Order candidate, Fred Thompson finally delivered the goods on August 30. Sort of.

No, he did not actually announce his candidacy.

But he did announce that he would make an announcement on September 6.

Why is Thompson unable to simply say yea or nay, one way or the other? Why wait until September 6? What is with all this pontificating?

If Thompson is struggling this much with trying to initiate and manage a campaign, should America trust him with the awesome responsibilities involved in actually running the nation, especially in an increasingly complex and hostile world?

“Do You Speak any Foreign Language?” “Only English!”

Satire By John W Lillpop

Philip Yaffe hit the nail on the head with his insightful column (HSN, August 7) about the linguistic challengers of working abroad.

However, one need not work overseas, thousands of miles from home, to encounter significant language challenges. Indeed, English speaking citizens living in Northern California face a non-stop struggle to understand and be understood right here in America.

For example, a simple chore like shopping for groceries can turn into a diversity nightmare for anyone with the arrogance to have been born in America and who speaks English—and only English.

Ask a store employee where kidney beans are, for instance, and the barely intelligible response will usher you off to the meat department. There I found swine kidneys, on sale at $3.44 a pound.

What a great buy, that is! Except I wanted kidney beans for a chili, and can barely stomach the idea of eating the kidney of a swine, or the kidney of any dead critter for that matter.

Whizzing right along, one encounters shopper after shopper glued to cell phones, many shouting very loudly in Arabic or Spanish. The strangest, and most frightening, shoppers are those who shout alternatively in Arabic and Spanish.

Obviously, I look forward to checking out my groceries and returning home as quickly as possible.

But, alas, the checker is blathering on and on into her cell phone in Spanish, pausing every few seconds or so to scan an item or two. At each pause, the checker glares intently at we shoppers; she is obviously miffed that all these inconsiderate mall freaks are interrupting her life or death telephone conversation.

Things get a little better with the next shopper because he speaks Spanish, so he is in and out in short order.

Just before I reach the head of the line, a young man who speaks perfect English replaces the Spanish-speaking checker. “Victory,” say I under my breath.

Score one for the Queen's English!

My victory celebration is short-lived, however, because the shopper right in front of me is an older man who speaks very broken English, that monster language created by the influx of illegal aliens into California from Mexico.

So, the young checker with perfect English has the formidable task of trying to explain to a Mexican alien that one cannot use food stamps to purchase liquor. And as that comedic exchange takes place, the line of anxious shoppers grows and grows.

It all works out, finally, and as I relax in my favorite recliner, I praise God that I am safe at home where good English communication is still possible.

At that moment the phone rings and I smartly answer “Good evening. This is John Lillpop speaking.”

My heart sinks in despair at the response. “Que?” asks the caller.

“Do you speak any foreign languages?” she asks.

“Only English, my dear, only English!”