Beck had supported his beliefs with facts and video and I realized just how powerful quotes taken out of context really are. Then listening to Rush interview Rumsfeld, I heard Rummy also state the fear of an emerging Islamic caliphate. Hmmmmm. Then I came across a story regarding Mansfield Arabic Program On Hold on CBSDFW.com, a Dallas-Fort Worth news site.

The U.S. Department of Education, as part of the five-year $1.3 million grant, funded classes in Arabic to be taught at Cross Timbers Intermediate School and other schools feeding into Summit High School. Seems like "The Department of Education has identified Arabic as a ‘language of the future.’

I'm now more convinced then ever that this country faces a severe threat from the forces of Islamic extremism both outside and within the US.

If Obama can pull off the head fake to the right, he may get reelected and that would even become easier if the Republicans nominate a weak candidate. If he wins reelection, I fear his policies would inflect damage that may be very difficult to overcome and even put our Nation's safety at risk. I wouldn't put it past him to find some way of getting Hillary to run as his VP. Some say history would view him as the president between the Clinton's and he wouldn't allow that to happen. But if he believes his best chance to retain the presidency resides in her partnership, then he will make that decision. That would strongly enhance the Dem's position in regards to 2012 and put Hillary in position to seek the 2016 nomination. She would be a strong candidate, not easily or cheaply beat. I truthfully don't see a strong Republican candidate. Palin's shallow stigma will haunt her, Romney's link to Mass. Health care will dog him, Huckabee is too Evangelical, Pawlenty speaks like politicians of old and Newt's past experiences and occasional out of the norm statements place him on the fringe. You would provide the Dem's a formidable opponent. Your ability to explain the situation and defend that explanation completely disarms your opposition. That appealing quality that Reagan possessed, exists within you. It can't taught nor can it be practiced, it just flows naturally.

I, as one of “We the People” am willing to entrust the leadership of my country with you because I believe you are ready and needed.

We now hear that Ralph Rubio has brought a bit of the old west to Rubio's. Folks go to Rubio's for Tacos de Pescado, not BBQ Chicken Tacos or Cheese Burger tacos. You've had this dream of “Americanizing” the taco for years. It didn't work with the All American taco and it ain't gonna work for this one either.

Over the years, you've given up fresh sliced cabbage for the increased profit of the bagged and you've gotten away from hand battered fish, substituting “cost effective,” glorified, freezer section fish sticks. Are you no longer proud of “Made Fresh Daily?” It would be understandable knowing your definition of Fresh now includes, frozen chicken, steak, fish, taquitos, churros and bagged tomatoes, cabbage, lettuce, onions and cilantro. But I guess you serve a different master now.

The ambiance and quality of the food you once served at #1, is what people sought out. Seems like your vision has shifted from satisfied customers to placated investors.

There have been reports all over the MSM saying Mubarak “...won't last three more days,” “is planning his escape,” yada yada yada. But what if he is just waiting?

There has been minimum violence and destruction, and if this doesn't escalate, then Mubarak can just allow them to vent until they loose interest. If he instructs the police or military to respond with force, it will only serve to act as an example of dictatorial brutality. He can survive by responding with due patience towards protestors and get a pass when force is used in patriotically protecting the antiquities of his nation. What will define his future may be the escalation of violent protests.

Responding to violent protests will be tolerated if his response is measured and targeted at violent protestors and does not the curtail the populace's option to demonstrate. Ultimately Mubarak may step aside and would be more likely to do so if he could be assured leadership doesn't land in the wrong hands.

As the one time owner of an east county coffee house, I have come to believe that a major facet of the problems that plague San Diego are nestled within the zoning ordinance.

By keeping a clean separation of commercial and residential, we are forced to drive our cars just to pick up a quart of milk. And in this environmental wacko state, we are forced to use the standard bearer of pollution: the automobile and then forced to buy higher priced, heavily taxed unleaded gasoline. By following the zoning ordinance we allow urban sprawl to occur forcing us to live further away, requiring commuting in our automobiles, making public transit far more costly and thus impractical and chewing up open space. Our children must be driven to school, playgrounds, and friends’ houses, all of which require a larger portion of a parent’s time. Yes this shepherding helps insure their safety but it also minimizes the opportunity for them to learn some very important lessons such as compromise, negotiation, subordination, leadership, dealing with confrontation, etc.

As a child of the 50’s in New York, playtime was filled with experiences that developed skills that play an integral part in my life today. Stickball required compromise, following rules laid out by peers not elders, leadership, etc. Rainy days found us honing our decision-making skills in a game of Risk or Monopoly. But when under the constant watchful eye of parents, their protective instincts kick in to guard us from the harsh reality of lessons learned.

Zoning is also leading to the death of the mom & pop business. Local governments zone areas as business only. These areas now become high end on the price scale and only affordable by the largest of investors, who purchase them and develop them to be big box store friendly malls. If you are not a major tenant (Target, Albertson’s, etc.) you are burdened with outrageous rents and common area charges. Why? Because the major tenants are given sweetheart deals due to their ability to draw customers to the mall.

California's zoning code, in support of the "planned community," has increased pollution, driven up costs, contributed to a decrease in health of the population (people in cities walk much more often to their destination, than do people in zoning restricted areas), dramatically increased the failure rate of mom and pop businesses, given greater power to large corporations and in general diminished the feeling of community.

So today was my time to appear in traffic court. I figured I'd be better off arriving early and as I drove up, the bee hive busy parking lot confirmed my assumption. Oh well, 'tis easier to grab the nearest street parking space. As I walked up to the entrance, the first “not a good” sign arose.

The line, just to get in, was a Carny's dream. “Damn are there this many people getting' caught breakin' the law?” Two distinctively young, feminine, bubbly voices approached from behind, chatting about “How I'm gonna give him s#%t. He gives me s#%t, so I figured I'd give it to him.” That caught my attention. I dared not turn around, they could be biker chicks and beat my a$$ if they think the glance had a meaning. “Ya know, I dropped the F bomb the other night.” was the next utterance and I realized “wow, she's got restraint.” I felt relief. As we approached the metal detectors, the obligatory signs requesting you to place ALL items onto the conveyor belt made me wonder how much I'd have to take off, just to get thru successfully. “Yes! I get to keep my belt and shoes on!” But as I approached I heard the testosteroned voice of a female sheriff “Take off your coat.” I did so with haste and saw her give me a quizzical look. “Oh God, I'm wearin' shorts. Does she know the judge thinks people who wear shorts to his court are dissen him?” Two seconds later I exited the legal systems version of the Golden Arches (308 million served), no buzzer. Whew!

The woman manning the info counter, told me to go up to the next level, past elevators and thru the doors to traffic court. And since the elevators were right next to me, I wouldn't have to challenge my reality of being in good shape. I pushed button #2, and doors closed, and away I went. For some reason the trip seemed just a little longer than it should. “Ding!” I just stuck my head out and “ S#%t! Wrong floor.” So I didn't enter on the first floor, I entered on floor “*G.” OK, I pushed button #1, and the door closed, and my sojourn continued. “Ding!” It slowed and I readied for a quick exit. But it didn't stop and “ding,” I'm back on “*G.” “S#$t!” This is too Twilight Zone for me, I'm walkin'. So “Damn my reality, full speed ahead!”

As I surfaced on the “1st” floor, I was awed by the “Beer line at Oktoberfest” amount of wrong doers waiting to pay the piper. Have you ever noticed that long lines arc to the left? I guess the result of wanting visual proof that the line really is that long. Yes, I counted the people in front of me: 25. “That's not that many.” But the elevators were 18 folk up and required a “left face” and God only knows where it goes after that. As if waiting for food at Stalag 17, I fell in line.

I was blessed with presence of a petite, middle aged asian woman who asked.“Is dit da line fa traffa cour?” “I think so” I replied. I had that same feeling one gets when you have no choice who'll be sitting next to you on a plane. “Eyes front. Disengage. Whatever you do don't make eye contact!” “Da a la a pee poe n da line.” “Oh no. She's chatty. I'll pretend she's talking to someone else and mind my own business that'll CYA.” Just in the nick of time, the people who've already executed the “left face,” started moving.

And we weren't just moving, we were walking. It was exciting, kinda like the Jews musta felt. Maybe there weren't that many people in front of me after all. I made a “left face” and continued walking. Down the hall, through the doors, and at the end of a “Yo ho, yo ho a pirates life for me” entrance line. At least they were kind enough to now take out any assumption of how much longer the process would take. Posted, in plain view, “Approximately 1½ hrs from this point.” Chatty Cathay, apparently seeing me as a traffic court expert, asked me a question that I couldn't understand and had absolutely no desire too. With a softened voice, and the slightest shrug of the shoulders “I don't know” I empathized. “...and the lights dimmed and curtain closed.” The maze like line had a truly torturous quality.

It allows you to fully experience the distasteful habits of some people for an extended period of time. Not being the “chatty” type, I was releived when my “not in a talkative” mood achieved success. I now put my full focus into building disdain through stereotyping of my fellow dominoes. So why aren't there any people at the counters? Doors open, lights on, ready for business? Not quite.

These civil servants, exhibiting the enthusiasm shown by an inmate working his time off, were almost there. Just a few more mosies and they're ready for us taxpayers. Finally, service. The lined moved at a blistering pace of 1.5 shuffles every three minutes. 5 folk back, a somewhat diminutive guy, dressed in nonmilitary colored fatigues down to the boots, tried to appeal to the hunter/gatherer side of the young woman in front of him. She was brilliant in feigning interest, and his prowess made him oblivious to it. Jimmy Dean's story ain't got nuttin on this guy. His “whine of the guilty” soliloquy had sole possession of center stage. An at the clip we were movin', I feared I'd be “enjoying” a seven act play. A dude, exhibiting small guy syndrome and positioned just across the tensabarrier from me, waved to a cohort meandering about outside the ordered chaos of the line. “Tell me he ain't gonna let this guy cut in?” If he did, I may morph into the Incredible New Yorker and say something that could get my a$$ kicked. Just a status update. Again, relief. “Next!” “Next!” “Next!” I detected an occasional alpha male stare but dealt with it using the psychological technique: the “Non-confrontational People Watching” glance. Completion of phase one was now just five, “next!,” no four, “next!,” just three next's away. Finally, my turn. Direct, precise, somewhat “angry with the system” answers, set the example for how not to waste time, as if the clerks cared. Chest out and with the gait of accomplishment, I strode past the late-comers and towards my destiny.

Entering the court room, required a subdued, reverence for “The Man” posture. A sneeze, cough or God forbid, a less than hushed voice, brought you unwanted attention and maybe forty lashes. “You vill have your pay-pers ready!” is explained in depth and reiterated by the man in black, but don't ya know, first guy up is the poster child for non-listeners. “Jerry WhatsHisName, approach the stand.” When the bailiff asked Jerry for his pay-pers, “huh” was his response. Now with a slightly less patient taint, the request for Jerry's pay-pers again got the “huh” treatment. Just then a breakthrough in the language barrier stymied the the-drill-sargent-as-pyscologist “YOU DO!” dressing down the bailiff was about to deliver. I found myself asking God for a favor: “Please, don't let a wise a$$ plead innocent.” I got my wish. “Thanks, God!”

The infrastructure (freeway access, rail access, airport, etc.) are already in place waiting to be used to their full potential. By hosting a new stadium, El Cajon will put the keystone in place for a vibrant economic makeover that will drive new businesses and residents to the city. A stadium surrounded by hotels, condos and restaurants, instead of a glass-half-empty area, whose only welcome are the wind tattered “Buy it in El Cajon” flags.

Yes there will be resistance, but strong leadership and vision will overcome these obstacles. Can you just imagine seeing Superbowl LIV live from El Cajon with the snow capped mountians off in the distance and the millions of dollars that this will inject into our economy? That's a vision I would love to embrace.