Robert C. Byrd has received a much friendlier valediction than conservative Senators of like stature. When Sen. Jesse Helms died he was treated like Satan’s baby brother. Likewise for Sen. Strom Thurmond. Sen. Byrd, conversely, has received praise for his work and absolution for his faults.
Friend and foe alike have hailed Byrd as the conscience of the Senate. Quasi-worshippers glorified his knowledge and use of Senate rules and his staunch defense of the chamber. His understanding of historical literature has garnered admiration, as has his perceived devotion to the U.S. Constitution.
Robert Byrd the family man should receive the kindness and sympathy due to the dead, if only for his family’s sake. But frankly, even in death, Robert C. Byrd the Senator is open to satire. He was, after all, a public figure. Never shanghaied, he doggedly defended his Senate seat for half a century.
Byrd made quite a name for himself in the U.S. Senate. But he made an even greater name for himself in West Virginia. Bluntly, he should be remembered not for the qualities previously mentioned but for the notorious manner in which he manipulated the federal budget to fortify a voting base in the nation’s poorest state. To accentuate the point let’s examine what the Senator’s funeral procession might’ve resembled.
Sen. Byrd’s remains arrive at the Robert C. Byrd Aerodrome in West Virginia. The plane lands on runway 32-RCB, approaches Senator Byrd Terminal on the R. Byrd taxiway and stops at the Byrd Passenger Access Gate. Sen. Byrd will be then be transferred to the R. C. B. Public Railway, which will carry him to Grand C. Byrd Station in his hometown of Sophia, crossing the Robert Byrd Trestle along the way. There the motorcade waits in the Senator Robert Byrd Public Parking Lot.
The motorcade exits the parking area via the R. Byrd Ticket Booth and creeps onto Robert C. Byrd Drive to begin the journey to the burial site, Robert C. Byrd Memorial Gardens, in Charleston (he’ll be buried in Virginia, but please play along). The hearse passes the Robert C. Byrd Elementary School, the Robert C. Byrd Middle School, the Robert C. Byrd High School, and BIT (the Byrd Institute of Technology). At the Robert C. Byrd State-Federal Liaison Building (a.k.a. the Robert C. Byrd Pork Processing Center) the motorcade turns onto Byrd Boulevard.
Byrd Boulevard guides the procession past the Robert Byrd Wastewater Treatment Plant, the Robert C. Byrd Water Works and the main offices of the Byrd Public Utility, predictably located in the Robert C. Byrd Business Complex. The caravan turns between the Robert C. Byrd Courthouse and the Robert C. Byrd Hospital and Blood Pressure Research Center and continues toward Interstate 64. After passing the Robert C. Byrd Honorary City Limit Sign the Senator leaves Sophia behind.
Byrd Boulevard now becomes Byrd Parkway, which carries the cavalcade to Interstate 64. The procession accesses the interstate via the Robert C. Byrd On-ramp and gains speed across the Sen. R.C. Byrd Overpass. The trip through West Virginia’s mountains is scenic. There’s Byrd Mountain, Robert’s Hollow, Byrd’s Valley, Robert Byrd Creek and the Byrd Rainwater Deluge Conduit (know locally as Byrd’s Ditch). To the right is the Robert C. Byrd Dam, which houses the R. C. Byrd Hydroelectric Station and retains the Robert’s Lake Reservoir.
Recent improvements to the Senator Robert C. Byrd Intermountain Expressway (I-64 until shovel-ready stimulus came to them there hills) hastens arrival at Byrd Memorial Gardens. The Byrd Off-ramp guides the procession from the expressway to the Senior Senator Scenic Highway, which the hearse follows to Byrd Gardens. Entrance is via the R.C. Byrd Access Gate.
Pallbearers escort the late Senator’s remains up the Byrd Pathway to his final resting place at the crest of Robert C. Byrd Knoll, which overlooks the Byrd Bike and Fitness Trail as it winds through a majestic corner of the Robert Byrd State Forest and Habitat Preserve. Senator Robert C. Byrd is there eulogized and remanded to the custody of his Creator, interned in a pork barrel.
Rest in peace, Senator.
Showing posts with label Senator. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Senator. Show all posts
Monday, July 5, 2010
Friday, June 26, 2009
Boxer demands fealty, not respect
Proper etiquette once invited respect and using “Sir” and “Ma’am” was considered reverential. The insult arose when the words were warranted but not used.
Within the military structure referring to a ranking officer as “Sir” or “Ma’am” still represents proper protocol. In fact, it’s mandatory. For example, a subordinate can use “Sir”, “Ma’am”, or rank while addressing a superior officer and remain soundly within the realm of civility.
Such courtesy once worked in the Halls of Congress, too. That was before self-absorbed lords such as California’s Barbara Boxer assumed royal authority in Washington.
Boxer chastised Brigadier General Michael Walsh during a recent Senate hearing. The video is everywhere and you can see it for yourself. However, to summarize for clarity, Walsh addressed Boxer as “Ma’am” instead of “Senator” and you’d have thought he called her the “C” word.
She promptly informed the General that she preferred to be addressed as Senator Boxer because she had “worked so hard to get that title.” How can anyone simultaneously be so arrogant, narcissistic and insecure?
Mr. Walsh showed proper respect for both Boxer and her office with the term “ma’am.” “Ma’am” is a contraction of “madam” and refers to a woman of refinement. It’s a compliment. And it’s arguably more than Barbara Boxer deserves.
Boxer must be extraordinarily insecure in her person and inordinately proud of her power to have taken offense. She just couldn’t resist calling attention to herself and shoving her credentials in someone’s face. It’s a trait of outward arrogance that also indicates inner weakness.
Maybe her insecurity arises from the possibility that becoming a Democratic Senator from California isn’t overly difficult. Daffy Duck could run as a Democrat and defeat a Republican in a state-wide race. It’s just no great trick for a Leftist to win a general election in California.
Even winning the Democrat primary isn’t as monumental a task as Boxer claims. How hard is it to promise more government, more spending and more of everything to 51-percent of the population at the expense of the other 49-percent? And whatever your Leftist opponent may promise, double the offer. What’s so difficult?
Who is Boxer to claim that she “worked hard” for what she has anyway? Americans work hard to attain success everyday. They use their talents to please their neighbors, customers and clients. Yet Boxer has no qualms with disrespecting such commoners, or with redistributing what they’ve earned. They are, after all, the winners of life’s lottery.
Now she has the gall to demand acknowledgement of her hard work? Forget it!
By the way, the silver star Michael Walsh wears doesn’t mean he’s the Marshall of Dodge City. And he didn’t get it from a Cracker Jack box. In fact, I’ll wager that Walsh worked harder to attain the rank of Brigadier General than Boxer did to win a Senate seat. I’ll also wager that he wouldn’t be mortally offended if a subordinate called him Sir.
Boxer’s condescending attitude is born from an odd marriage of inner weakness and insecurity with an outward sense of royalty and unmitigated authority. It’s time her highness faced the reality of her contradictions.
No one is forcing women back to the barefoot, pregnant, cookie-baking days with the use of ma’am. Boxer’s offense at this traditional term of respect reflects both a hollow personality and a shallow intellect.
Attaining a Senate seat is a rare accomplishment; there are only 100 Senators at a time. She can be proud of her office. But public office grants her no right to demand fealty from another American citizen, especially a Brigadier General. Barbara’s panties were wadded over nothing.
Boxer’s childish demand didn’t enhance her authority nor command anyone’s respect. She merely proved that arrogant insecurity isn’t an oxymoron and that she’s undeserving even of the obeisance she received, much less that which she demands.
Within the military structure referring to a ranking officer as “Sir” or “Ma’am” still represents proper protocol. In fact, it’s mandatory. For example, a subordinate can use “Sir”, “Ma’am”, or rank while addressing a superior officer and remain soundly within the realm of civility.
Such courtesy once worked in the Halls of Congress, too. That was before self-absorbed lords such as California’s Barbara Boxer assumed royal authority in Washington.
Boxer chastised Brigadier General Michael Walsh during a recent Senate hearing. The video is everywhere and you can see it for yourself. However, to summarize for clarity, Walsh addressed Boxer as “Ma’am” instead of “Senator” and you’d have thought he called her the “C” word.
She promptly informed the General that she preferred to be addressed as Senator Boxer because she had “worked so hard to get that title.” How can anyone simultaneously be so arrogant, narcissistic and insecure?
Mr. Walsh showed proper respect for both Boxer and her office with the term “ma’am.” “Ma’am” is a contraction of “madam” and refers to a woman of refinement. It’s a compliment. And it’s arguably more than Barbara Boxer deserves.
Boxer must be extraordinarily insecure in her person and inordinately proud of her power to have taken offense. She just couldn’t resist calling attention to herself and shoving her credentials in someone’s face. It’s a trait of outward arrogance that also indicates inner weakness.
Maybe her insecurity arises from the possibility that becoming a Democratic Senator from California isn’t overly difficult. Daffy Duck could run as a Democrat and defeat a Republican in a state-wide race. It’s just no great trick for a Leftist to win a general election in California.
Even winning the Democrat primary isn’t as monumental a task as Boxer claims. How hard is it to promise more government, more spending and more of everything to 51-percent of the population at the expense of the other 49-percent? And whatever your Leftist opponent may promise, double the offer. What’s so difficult?
Who is Boxer to claim that she “worked hard” for what she has anyway? Americans work hard to attain success everyday. They use their talents to please their neighbors, customers and clients. Yet Boxer has no qualms with disrespecting such commoners, or with redistributing what they’ve earned. They are, after all, the winners of life’s lottery.
Now she has the gall to demand acknowledgement of her hard work? Forget it!
By the way, the silver star Michael Walsh wears doesn’t mean he’s the Marshall of Dodge City. And he didn’t get it from a Cracker Jack box. In fact, I’ll wager that Walsh worked harder to attain the rank of Brigadier General than Boxer did to win a Senate seat. I’ll also wager that he wouldn’t be mortally offended if a subordinate called him Sir.
Boxer’s condescending attitude is born from an odd marriage of inner weakness and insecurity with an outward sense of royalty and unmitigated authority. It’s time her highness faced the reality of her contradictions.
No one is forcing women back to the barefoot, pregnant, cookie-baking days with the use of ma’am. Boxer’s offense at this traditional term of respect reflects both a hollow personality and a shallow intellect.
Attaining a Senate seat is a rare accomplishment; there are only 100 Senators at a time. She can be proud of her office. But public office grants her no right to demand fealty from another American citizen, especially a Brigadier General. Barbara’s panties were wadded over nothing.
Boxer’s childish demand didn’t enhance her authority nor command anyone’s respect. She merely proved that arrogant insecurity isn’t an oxymoron and that she’s undeserving even of the obeisance she received, much less that which she demands.
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