On a clear day, you can’t see Obama.
Here I am out at our house in Malibu. It is a small house but on a good lot with sweeping ocean views. It was designed by a well-known Malibu architect and built in the 1950s. My wife and I painted it pink (wifey’s idea) and my idea was to put in a lot of trees around it.
When I first started planting, I put in six palms and six oaks on the north side of the house. Both kinds of trees flourished in the great Southern California climate. Plus, I watered them a lot and applied Miracle-Gro.
Our house is next to a vast canyon owned by the state as a water wash, so that when giant floods come down the mountains behind us, they have a place to go without washing away all of our houses.
This wash is thickly vegetated and the combination of my palms and oaks and the forest on state land made a super side view of the house. I often lay in the guest bedroom, my dog in my arms, and looked at the endless greenery while I heard the waves and the occasional motorcyclist.
Then, for reasons I will probably never know, Tino, my ancient, hulking gardener, started to chop down the oak trees. I told him never to do it again after the first one but he kept doing it.
A few days ago, he chopped down two magnificently robust, healthy oaks, leaving my view changed quite severely and for the worse.
He then presented me with a bill of almost $4500 for doing this sabotage. I told him the whole thing was an outrage and I would not pay. He made up a whole series of tall tales, just total nonsense, about why he had to cut down the trees and why it was so expensive.
I paid him $2500 just to keep him from murdering me, although, of course, he did not really threaten to murder me. But I am just furious at him. He does not fertilize the jacarandas at all, and only I do it, and when I do, they grow, and when I don’t, they die. I really hate him. But I guess I am stuck with him. He does a great job at the house in Beverly Hills. Except that he cuts the wiring for the outside lights every single time we get it fixed.
There is something deeply unsettling about his anger towards me. It may represent the rage that workers have for people better off than they are. It may be a personal thing. Whatever it is, I hate it.
Meanwhile, as I was watering and Miracle-Groing my jacarandas, my pal B, a beautiful 39-year-old woman, appeared with homemade chicken soup.
She apologized for being late (which I had not even noticed) and said it was because she was comforting a friend who had suffered a major anxiety attack.
Why had the friend suffered an anxiety attack? Why, in Malibu, had the friend suffered a panic attack? Because her former husband had yelled at her for doing nothing all day, and because the same evil doer had cut back her allowance so badly, so brutally, that she could not afford to feed her horses the usual horse food she likes to give them. “Their ribs are showing,” said my friend in a tone of moral indignation. “That man doesn’t care about her horses at all.”
Hmmm. For one thing, why wasn’t the ex-wife working? The rest of us work. For another, I find that women who keep horses in Malibu operate at a high level of anxiety all of the time, no matter how much money they have or don’t have. Anxious women and horses just go together. That’s just the way this situation works out. It isn’t that the horses make the women anxious. Women with high levels of stress are drawn to horses. Why? Who knows.
Anyway, such are my observations and I hasten to add that I might well be mistaken.
A man of faith in a godless age is hitting Americans where it hurts.
Mr. and Mrs. American Spectator Reader, let P.J. O’Rourke talk sense to your kids.
In Britain, defending your property can get you life.
The debacle of this president’s administration is both a cause and a symptom of the decline of American values. Unless Congress impeaches him, that decline will go on unchecked. An eminent jurist surveys the damage and assesses the chances for the recovery of our culture.
It won’t take long for conservatives to scratch this presidential wannabe off their 2008 scorecard.
The American Christmas, like the songs that celebrate it, makes room for everybody under the rainbow. Is that why so many people seem to be hostile to it?
Was the President done in by the economy, or by the politics of the economy?