Greetings loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader is going to jump on Brian’s bandwagon and wish all of you of Scottish extraction (or even those of you married to Scots) a happy St. Andrew’s Day.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader will admit that he has been anxiously awaiting Skippy’s commentary on the impending Canadian elections. So for what, two, three, days now every time your Maximum Leader has visited Skippy’s site he’s been waiting to see an update on the elections.

Well, your Maximum Leader is gleefull loyal minions. Skippy has finally weighed in.

If you have the faintest interest in Canadian politics, or you just want a fun read, clicky through and read.

Also, your Maximum Leader was going to write Skippy and request a post on the “ulta-foxy Michaelle Jean” the Governor General of Canada. From what your Maximum Leader has seen Governor General Jean is quite foxy. So, Skippy consider this a request. You’ve written biting political commentary, it is now time for depraved sexuality. Your Maximum Leader wants to know what are Skippy’s innermost thoughts about his Head of State?

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader loves the Olympics. He loves the spectacle. He loves the competition. He just loves the Olympics.

So you can imagine that he is very excited about the upcoming Turin Winter Games. He will watch every hockey game they put on. He will also watch all the downhill skiing and biathelon they broadcast too.

But it is not because of his love of the games that he is writing this post. No… Your Maximum Leader is peeved. As you may know, the Olympic flame will be lit in Greece. If you click through on the link you will be able to read all about it. You will read about how they will use mirrors to start the fire. Yadda… Yadda… Then the Priestesses of Hera will do chanting and make offerings to the Gods. Yadda… Yadda… Then they will put the flame on a special airplane and fly it to Italy.

Wha? Wait a minute little doggie? Fly the flame to Italy? What the hell? Why are they flying the flame to Italy? There is a land rout you know… Couldn’t you run it over? Hell you could drive it over if needed… Does your Maximum Leader need to get someone driving directions? (Directions below the fold.)

What is up with flying the flame to Italy? This peeves him. It peeves him greatly. What would be better and more symbolic of the Olympic movement than to actually run the flame from Greece to Italy. You would have to go through Albania (a country atrophied by years of Communist oppression - now growing under freedom), Serbia (a nation ravaged by war and now international troops assure peace while the nation rebuilds), and (depending on the route) you would also go through Bosnia & Herzegovina. What could be more moving than the Olympic flame being run across Europe in the spirit of peaceful competition?

It seems wrong that the flame is going by plane to Italy. It seems so wrong that your Maximum Leader now declares that in the Mike World Order (MWO for those of you who have forgotten) if it is possible for the Olympic flame to be moved from Greece to the site of the Olympics by land, then it must be moved by land. Your Maximum Leader wants to see the torch passed from hand to hand as it makes it way from Greece to the site of competition. Your Maximum Leader will go so far as to suggest that the Chinese look into a torch relay from Olympia to Beijing for the 2008 games. Wouldn’t that be cool? If you could find a way to live-cam it over the internet that woul be even cooler…

Carry on.
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Greetings, loyal inions. Your Maximum Leader wants to remind all of his loyal minions that today is the 131st anniversary of the birth of your Maximum Leader’s great hero. Winston Leonard Spencer Churchill was born this day (St. Andrew’s Day in fact - St. Andrew the patron saint of Scotland) in 1874 at Blenheim Palace.

Churchill’s life is one of the most interesting lives of modern times. It is filled with glorious triumphs and equally disastrous failures. But through it all Churchill “kept buggering on.”

Your Maximum Leader shudders to think where this world would be today were it not for Churchill taking the wheel of the ship of state in Britain in World War Two. For those who would dismiss Churchill’s role in keeping Britain in the war, your Maximum Leader will commend to you John Lukac’s fantastic book “Five Days in London: May 1940.”

If you’ve never been, visit the site of the Churchill Centre. It is a great resource and is permanently linked from this site over on the right side under the “Pantheon of Greatness.”

If you are into the faddish (if that is a word derived from fad) trend of short biographies, then you want to read John Keegan’s Churchill biography he wrote for the Penguin Lives series. It is the best short biography of Churchill.

If you want to “get a feel” for Churchill and don’t want to commit yourself to the 208 pages of the Keegan work… Well if you can’t bring yourself to read 208 pages you need help. But in case you need help and want to “get a feel” for Churchill; go to your public libarary (or Borders Book Shop) and get William Manchester’s “The Last Lion: Alone.” Then sit down and read the first 30-odd pages of the book. The chapter is entitled, “Chartwell, 1932.” It is worth your time.

If you are visually stimulated and want to see a great depection of Churchill on film. Rent (or better yet - buy) “The Gathering Storm” with Albert Finney. The bit about Ralph Wigram may be a bit over dramatised, but it is a movie.

Of course, if you are a true Churchill fan (like your Maximum Leader) you need to a read the works of the great man himself. Any of them will do. (He did win a Nobel Prize for Literature afterall.) Don’t read an edited work containing bits of speeches, articles, and sundries. Get his 6 volumes on World War Two. Or his 4 volumes on World War One. Or his 4 volumes on the English Speaking Peoples. Read those.

Or listen to Churchill’s wartime speeches.

In closing, you should do something to honour the man whom your Maximum Leader thinks is the seminal figure in the 20th Century, and without whom we would be living in a world made dark by the perversions of Nazism. Inside the front door to the nave at Westminster Abbey there is a plaque on the floor a few feet from the poppy-lined plaque marking the grave of the unknown solider epresenting all of Britain’s war dead of the Great War. The plaque reads “Remember Winston Churchill.”

And we all should today.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader sees that Governor Warner, for the first time during his term, has decided to commute a death sentence. He has saved the life of Robin Lovitt, whom you Maximum Leader mentioned earlier today. Mr. Lovitt was scheduled to be the 1000th man to die in the US since the death penalty was reinstated.

Your Maximum Leader certainly can understand the reasons behind Governor Warner’s actions. And further he thinks that Governor Warner probably acted correctly. You are probably saying to yourself, “Self, earlier today my Maximum Leader was nearly screaming for the man to die. What gives?” Well, what gives dear minions is that your Maximum Leader is quite sure that there are competent people in the Attorney General’s office who have reveiwed the case work. There are likely more people in the Governor’s own office who have reviewed the case work. And all those competent people, plus the competent Governor, probably know much more about this case than your Maximum Leader ever wants to. The Governor, your Maximum Leader feels, would not take a decision such as this lightly. So your Maximum Leader is contented with this outcome. Lovitt gets life without parole.

Governor Perry of Texas… The Lone Star state is again on deck for a landmark… Warm up ole sparky.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader figured it had been a while since he did a meme-thingie. So he found a pretty good one over at Not Exactly Rocket Science and decided to let it rip. And this meme is topical in that just one post earlier he was writing about eating.

The meme is quite simple. Pick one of the two listed. All listed items are foodstuffs. If you are interested in the results go below the fold…
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Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader is not a small man. He stands about si feet three inches tall. He weighs about 235 pounds. (Or just under 17 stone for those who like the old ways of measuring these things.) Your Maximum Leader likes food. He likes cooking it. He likes eating it.

And as much as your Maximum Leader likes to eat food, he’s discovering that he is becoming a lightweight. This Thanksgiving he ate the following (around 2pm): 3 crackers topped with warm brie, almonds, and peach jam; a handful of roasted nuts (pecans, almonds, walnuts); 2 crackers topped with crab dip; and one regular sized dinner plate containing 2 slices of turkey breast meat, 4 tbls of mashed potatoes, 4 tbls of stuffing, 2 tbl of cranberry dressing, 7 spears of asparagus, 2 tbls of onion casserole, and 3 tbls of gravy.

After all that he was done in. So done in he didn’t even eat pie two hours later. So done in he didn’t even eat anything at dinner time (or later). He still felt a little stuffed the next morning. So stuffed that he made himself a turkey sandwich using a left over dinner roll… Gone are the days of 2 or even 3 helpings at Thanksgiving dinner.

So… Imagine the stomach wrenching pain he felt while reading this article about competitive eating on the Washington Post. Of all of the “sports” in the world competitive eating is one that your Maximum Leader just doesn’t get. Doesn’t get at all. Perhaps it is his Catholic upbringing coming to the fore. Gluttony, you know, is one of the deadly sins.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader sees that his fine Commonwealth is fixin’ to execute Robin Lovitt tomorrow night. Mr. Lovitt will hold the dubious distinction of being the 1000th person to be executed in the United States since the reinstatement of the death penalty in 1976.

In case you’re wondering, according to the article Texas, Virginia, and Oklahoma account for 997 of the 1000 executions.

Now allow your Maximum Leader to say a few things on this subject. First off, your Maximum Leader does not believe that the death penalty deters any criminal from committing a capital crime. Secondly, your Maximum Leader does believe that the death penalty is inequitably assigned to blacks more than whites. And thirdly, the appeal process for those on death row is a little lengthy - but your Maximum Leader is okay with that. Indeed, your Maximum Leader thinks that, if anything, the disparity between blacks and whites on death row could be alieviated by just sentencing more whites to die. And frankly, if the death penalty were not so rare it might have some deterrent affect. (Although your Maximum Leader freely conceeds that even if the death penalty were not rare it would still not have a deterrent affect on capital crime. He is well aware that centuries of executions have not changed the heart of men.)

So all that said, your Maximum Leader still supports the death penalty and he will shed no tears when Mr. Lovitt is executed tomorrow night. He might (if he remembers) pray for God to have mercy on Mr. Lovitt.

All in all, as frequent readers and loyal minions know, your Maximum Leader believes quite firmly that there are some crimes that are so heinous that if one is convicted of them the state should kill them. Indeed, your Maximum Leader’s personal preference in this matter is that the a person convicted of a capital crime be put outside the protection of the state and all citizens are free to do what they will to him. But that aside, some people just deserve killin’ (as some of my fellow countrymen might say).

In fact, the only thing that concerns your Maximum Leader in this case is that Texas will move their schedule around and sneak number 1000 in tonight.

Carry on.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader sees that Nick and Jessica are splitsville. He cannot say as though his is any of the following: surprised, excited, distressed, alarmed, concerned, grief-stricken. Indeed, he really doesn’t care too much. As drop-dead gorgeous as Jessica Simpson is (and she is quite a little hottie); she is no dreamy Jennifer Love Hewitt. So if Jessica Simpson is your thing, have at it.

Carry on.

The lovely Sadie, who is definitely invited to a farm fete (fest?) whenever she next crosses the Mississippi, writes, in regard to teats:

Steve H: i’m not sure if it means the nipple or the whole bag or what
Sadie: i think it’s the latter.
Sadie: no the former.

Well, Sadie, dear, if you had comments enabled, one of the Naked Villains might have been able to enlighten you. Comments don’t have to be about “show us your tits!” They could be “I’ll define teats for you.”

But since you don’t have comments, I will embargo my assidously acquired attainment of astoundingly arcane agricultural (and alliterative) awareness.

Predictions:

Sadie will lose no sleep over my embargo.

The Minister of Propaganda will rapidly register a ridiculously ribald remark in the comments section, thereby proving the perspicacity our pulchritudinous partner’s plainly prohibitonist policy.

UPDATE: The MOP points out that I mispelled pulchritudinous in my haste, using dictionary.com as a reference. I am embarassed by this particular mispelling, as I am of all of my poor grammar and spelling as exhibited on the blog since movable type took away my spell check (and composing in word adds odd characters when I cut and paste). I would like to point out that I at least knew what the word meant - and I adore the word because its meaning is quite different from its ugly, harsh sound. So accidental misspelling versus illiteracy - I guess Longwood trumps Yale yet again.

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader hopes that you all had a festive Thanksgiving spent in the company of family and friends. Your Maximum Leader had a great long weekend. He visited with family from far and wide. He cooked a huge feast. He’s eaten leftovers. And now he’d like to speak about something bugging him…

Your Maximum Leader was driving home from his sainted in-law’s house on Saturday night (after a quick day-visit) and was listening to XM Radio along the way. He was listening, as is his habit, to the “80’s on 8.” About halfway back to the Villainschloss they played the extended dance mix of Bruce Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark.”

Now, first off let your Maximum Leader go on the record and say that he believes that “Dancing in the Dark” - the album version - hasn’t aged well in his mind. As the years pass that song seems more dated and flat. But if you want to hear something that truly offends the ear dig up a copy of the extended dance mix of the song. You’ll recognize it by the presence of the xylophone in the first few measures.

Gawd the very act of rememberance makes your Maximum Leader cringe. The xylophone. The cheesey back-up singers. The constant repetition of the same riffs over and over and over. Indeed, your Maximum Leader thinks that Springsteen intentionally screwed up the song just to “stick it” to the record promoters who said to him, “Look Bruce we need a dance mix… You know… For kids…” After realizing that his contract required him to do a dance mix at the behest of the label Springsteen probably said to himself, “I’m gonna make this the shittiest dance mix ever.” While your Maximum Leader cannot confirm that the “Dancing in the Dark” dance mix is the most horrid one ever re-recorded - it certainly ranks right up there in the annals of regrettable recordings.

Your Maximum Leader feels that this post will go a long way towards exorcising the demons of that song…

Carry on.

Boris “The Fist” Timisov still marveled at America. It was 2:00 am and he was waiting in a line at a convenience store. Two in the fucking morning and there was a line at the Qwik-Mart. Amazing country.

The clerk hardly looked at him. “What for you?”

“Fifty pounds of ice.”

“Big party?”

“Yeah.”

“$10.95.”

Boris paid for his ice and went out to get the bags. He carried them to the trunk of his car. He looked around and opened the trunk and threw in the ice. Alexey’s lifeless body had hardly even cooled yet.

Breakin’ the law! Breakin’ the law!

As an aside, $9.49 a gallon of milk?! I need to start selling milk!

Here is the grea story of a sixteen year old with her own dairy business. She is a small farmer (ONE cow), raises the cow humanely on pasture, and amrkets directly to consumers. You go, girl!

The Maximum Leader is looking forward to Easter.

He and his lovely family will join the Smallholders at our little farm. Mike, my neighbor Paul, and I will retire to the kitchen and spend the day cooking a home-raised leg of lamb and a home-raised ham. While drinking beer and scotch.

And it gets better.

I know the Maximum Leader will soon be gleefully atwitter.

Paul and I were discussing how Scottish cuisine developed as a dare: “I bet you won’t eat that!”

Paul jumps up and finds his recipe for haggis, lamenting that he has never had the chance to make it. Stomachs are hard to come by in the United States.

A lightbulb goes on over my head. “I’m taking a lamb in to the butcher right before our Easter meal! I’ll have the butcher save the stomach!”

Paul then declares: “I’ll bring my bagpipe CD and pipe the haggis into the dining room! We’ll toast the haggis with Scotch!”

I suspect that the Maximum Leader is, at this very moment, running to see if his kilt still fits.

Easter is gonna rock!