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At What Point Treachery?

As an American, who has always loved his country (so much so, that like a Father or Mother with their children, sometimes being critical of it…we expect so much from our children, and to me, my country is something that as citizens, we are all sort of parental to) – I’ve always tried to see my country through the spectacles of our forefathers (specifically Ben Franklin).

I’ve always tried to say, “what would they think”, “what would they do?”.

Now I know that is not popular today, ’cause as everybody knows, they were a bunch of gender-biased bigots.

Old dead white guys.

Well, this white guy is very much alive, and still loves the country they forged (and we have helped sustain).

I have to ask what they would think, as post-renaissance, renaissance men, of a new Nation that would sell out its own allies.

There can be no question in my mind that they would view what is taking place at this very moment (Egypt, Russia)  as the most vile form of treachery.

Mother Country?

Mother Country? Who is Obama working for?

Obama appears as that horrific “l’enfant terrible” that the French so aptly defined.

Like little Lord Faunterloy, he seems to me to be practicing a sort of “slash and burn” mentality…he senses that he is on his way out, so is inflicting as much damage as possible before his exit.

I pray to God in heaven that our allies will forgive us, and will realize that a new power base and leadership and mindset is on the rise in our country.

I would not blame them if they never trust us again…putting myself in their shoes (England, Egypt) – I know that I would never trust us again…but I come from the mountains and we learn to respect rattle snakes, cotton mouths and other vipers…once bitten, twice shy is our phrase.

But I would caution the world that things can “turn on a dime” in America.

We can pay off our debt to China, and we will.

We can rise to prominence again, and we will.

We also can make pledges, and we can live by those pledges (and we will).

A good one to start with is “never again”.

Never again will we allow a cretin to rise to power and inflict the kind of damage that this childish, impudent, boor of a man has inflicted not only on his own Nation, but on the world-at-large.

Harken back to the time that Obama was running for President…conjure up from the depths of your mind the angry speech that was hurled at a congregation by his minister (the right (ahem) Reverend Wright).

I believe I remember his exact words were “God DAMNED America”.

Well, I can assure you that it is NOT the God of Israel, or that same God of Christ who is having this damning effect on our Nation.

In fact, it is not a god at all.

It is a bunch of hate-filled men and women.

Hate filled, and dedicated to the prospect of tearing our Nation assunder.

This is not mere treachery; it is treason.

The collusion that Obama is taking with not only this “brotherhood” that is supposedly rising to power in Egypt (could not tell by all the fighting and killing that they are taking “by the will of the people”, now can you?)…but also with the Soviets…it is beyond apalling.

It is time for his own party to do something about him, and while they are at it, re-examine the Reids and Pelosis of the party as well (I know for damned sure that this Republican is taking a much, much more critical look at McCain).

This is beyond insanity, and beyond treason, and it is time democracy does something to right this listing ship.

The new Republican leadership needs to take a forecful, and vocal stand on the unfolding world events.

They need to be even more critical of Obama, and someone needs to reign the SOB in…quickly.

If his party can not do it, the courts (or someone) need to.

He is a rogue, and he causing damage beyond belief.

He simply needs to be stopped before it is too late (if if is not already too late).

Living Large, While Others Eat Cake

Hear about who is “Living Large” during these times that try men’s souls?

Click Here for the Modern Marie Antoinette Hoisting Her Hammer, Sickle and Paid-In-Full, Dues Card.

Talk about your Manchurian candidates, huh? (How much they kicking back to you, Herr King of the Hoops?).

I’ve always known that those suck-tails and “brother’s of the hood”, brotherhood were in collective cahoots.  Never fails, pinko-commie flamingos will always flock together.

Oh, and by the way, “John-Q-tax-paying-citizen”…just like with Big “O”, Obama, your the one getting stuck with the bill.

America, did you learn anything at all about all those privileged-puke, up-scale, children of flowers, Charlie Manson and drug-induced state of paranoia that WAS the sixties generation? (Their children’s children have risen in the form of Obama and his Union buds).

It’s all about the have’s and the have-nots.  And guess what?  The one’s who are screaming the loudest are not those who went and fought in Viet Nam — they were the children of the rich who stayed here, shot heroin and made love in the afternoon sun (or, union-produced cannons, M-16’s and napalm).

You know, the same bunch running the country today.

We have sold our souls to commercials, to movies and to propaganda about each of us being “Earth Mothers” and “Earth Stewards” instead of having common sense and living (as best we can) in a universe over which we have little (if any) control.

Welcome to the world of chaos.

You know, I like to think of chaos as a spinning top that suddenly begins to spin out of control.

It will not stay on its tip, spinning beautifully, unless certain conditions are maintained.

Proper speed, the mass and bulk of the “torso” of the top, the material of which the “tip” is made (when I was a kid, I found a compound of plastic or rubber worked best – of the kind skate-board wheels were made – can’t remember the name of the compound, but it was like a sticky “rubber-plastic”).

The tip of the thing was a hardened piece of steel, but it was surrounded and cushioned in this rubber-plastic formed in the shape of blunt-arrow tip.

It had a very long cord, and an instrument to hold it steady while force was applied to the string.

The thing would spin, and spin, and spin (and then, spin some more – absolutely amazing piece of engineering).

It was a thing of beauty, but always, always (unless I caught it), once it slowed, it would careen, out-of-control, its top-heavy mass forcing it to tumble not unlike the current economy.

We, as a global economy, seem to be at a momentary “lull” where things are not getting too much worse, and getting none-too-much better.

This is usually when the top would begin to careen.

Let’s hope somebody besides a bunch of zombie-esque, marijuana-craving and semi-stoned hippies and their brother malcontent union screws hell-bent on robbing the nation’s coffers through government “buy-back” programs is there to snatch the top before it starts to tumble (these rogues have proven that they are only “all about themselves” like a narcotic fiend craving his next fix).

Wouldn’t it be nice if from the ashes of these poor, dumb SOB’s that somebody with some sense would rise and lead this world out of the turmoil it now faces?

God speed the GOP (may the lumbering, sleepy elephant begin finally to trumpet, and to charge!).

Immigration (et, al): A DIATRIBE

So, the new immigrants are the same as the old?

Let’s think about the first immigrants.

Well, now there is one that is highly contested, isn’t it?

Let’s see.

My first thought is (was), that they were puritanical Pilgrims; but wait, what about that Leif Ericson cat?

Now, there was one, righteous-Nordic DUDE (1)

But, I digress (you gotta admit, though, he was COOL – literally; he had chilly grey matter – “ees cooold in dat North Sea”).

The FIRST immigrants to the “New” World (can you say “Order in the court?”…hmmmm? Can you?).

Let’s see, I seem to remember somewheres in my vast repository of useful information some will call a waning noggin a certain LAND BRIDGE – let’s see – what was it called?  hmmmm THE BERING STRAIGHT ????

Immigration in this great nation of ours started when the ASIAN crossed over from Russia, through the periphery of the Arctic circle and then down and around and into North America (one could argue that they were Ca-nooks, but, let’s not; sorry, Leif).

At any rate, immigration is truly a very old concept to this ragged Continent of our’n.

Now, I ask a simple question.

Did Leif Ericson have universal health care?

What about those first Asians?  Did they have an emergency ward when they got an icey fishook gorged through their nostrils in some horrid mis-adventure?

Well, the answer is obvious, isn’t it.

All immigrants are not alike.

Take the Irish, for example.

They were escaping a potato famine, and they were damned glad to get to this “land of opportunity” (seems it has now become a land of entitlement opportunity).

Did Paddy and O’leary and Shamus have a wet-nurse-maid awaiting them on the shores of “opportunity”.

Well…I’m waiting…

Let’s forget about immigrants (just for a moment) and think about those brave young men and women in buckskins who braved the elements, left “BAH-STAN” and headed into the wilderness “to see what they could see”.

What about them?

Did they have a Humana or Mercy General out there in the rough and tumble of the Great Smoky Mountains, or the Wild West that lay beyond.

The answer, is of course, “HELL NO”.

There was no one there to wipe their snotty noses.  No one to hand out free aspirin and toiletries.

In short, they had to make it.  They had to rely on the natural resources.  They had to rely on their “gumption”.

Now, I truly do know, full-well, that there are immigrants who approach this caliber of mindset today.

Even they are not faced with the “hardships” of those “ancients” who came before us (when, exactly when were the “mud-hut” builders of the earliest settlers in Tennessee?  Ten or twelve THOUSAND years ago…I use Tennessee as example as it is buried about as far away from the Bering Land Bridge as one can get (on this Continent anyhow) to demonstrate that the West truly is much, much older than our Constitution.

So, what of it, you may say.

Well, here is “what of it”…when one sticks to basic precepts, things work pretty well.  When one drifts, far afield, concepts and philosophy’s and even religions begin to unravel.

As they say where I come from “it is time to get down to brass tacks”.

The basics.

There is no divine right to “a car in every garage and a chicken in every pot”; this is NOT a concept our forefathers envisioned in our Constitution.

Utopia, frankly, is a big, fat lie (as is Haight-Ashbury and every damned thing the Beatles ever thought to sing but forgot because they were too flippin’ stoned).

There is no yellow brick road, Dotty.  No pot at the end of the rainbow.

What there is, though, is…

FREEDOM.

Freedom to make choices.  Freedom to live without having someone breathing down your neck all the time.

Freedom to eke out (and I do mean EKE)…to eke out a living.

THIS is what “built” our country.

I believe that in the coming days, weeks, months and years, our great nation will “get back to the egg”…we will remember the people who built this nation.

But we will also remember the people who have tried to tear it down.

We won’t forget (and I pray, and I mean deep, deep prayer) that we NEVER let this mess happen again!

One-Sixteenth, of an inch

I am a proud, Freemason.

I am the Master of my Lodge, for this year, Year of Our Lord, 2010.

Each and every time I attend our stated meetings, since my induction into our humble Lodge (Prudentia, No. 719 – fifteen LONG years ago), I have pledged allegiance to our Nation (One, Under God).

And each time I recite my pledge, I take special note (and privilege) of one, one very special, sixteenth-of-an-inch.

Freemasonry (and its perfection, it is said) can only be attained through degrees.

I have always taken special note, and pride, of a singular, sixteenth-of-an-inch.

The flag to which we pledge, the stars and stripes of our humble Nation, hangs opposite the Christian flag in our Lodge. It hangs singular against a pole, and is “furled” straight to ward the ground below.

Its seven, red- and six, white- stripes, and fifty-white stars in constellation set upon a blue (not the dark of night, nor the light of day, but the dawn of day-break or the dusk, of evening-tide) background all hold special, historic and  dear significance to each of us who know its history (and more-especially, have not forgotten).

It is mounted to a pole, and hangs -regally straight- a full, one sixteenth of an inch from Mother Earth at the tip of her terminal corner.

Each and ever time I recite my pledge to my Nation (at least once per month), I take special note of that one, singular, sixteenth-of-an-inch.

I have been a Freemason for going on, some odd, fifteen years (or there-about).

I have pledged to that flag, once-per-month at each and every of our stated meetings (save for a couple of Presidential elections that have taken precedence for me over our stated, Tuesday-night meetings).

I have been regular in my attendance, and regular in my pledge to my Nation.

I have also taken regular note of that sixteenth-of-an-inch.

I would stop the world of Freemasonry were that flag ever to contact Mother Earth.

She hangs there, for some fifteen years that I have observed, and none (not one) of her fibers have ever loosened so as to allow her grace to commingle with the earthen filth.

Each time I take upon myself my pledge, I take note of that scant distance between her grace, and the filth of the ground.

I am reminded of that which separates both heaven, and earth.

It is a small chasm that separates her; but it is an eternal distance for the vigilant who in heart know of that which awaits the steadfast !

Our Nation, today, stands in that crux…that scant distance that separates grace, from ruin.

I believe, with all my heart, that with this same concept of equal regularity, that this distance does not have to “change”.

You know, change can have negative connotation (especially in context of our flag’s proximity to the ground, and the profundity this entails for a metaphor for the whole).

I believe that this is borne out in current event.

It is up to us, as stalwarts of our precepts, our guiding principles, and our mortal (and immortal) integrity, to stand guard against her grace being dragged through this pit of mire, and of mud.

It is my prayer that November will make all the difference in world, for all the World.

Grace, is a funny thing.

You will find it in the most, odd, of places.

China has shown us grace today.

They have shown us that they still have confidence in us, in spite of a lack of confidence that we have in ourselves (and most-especially, our current “leadership”).

The Union of Soviet Socialists have offered a gift of olive leaf in the form of a spy “exchange” (still not certain that the offer is full of salty savor, but it is a nice gesture, none-the-less, even when Bill Clinton’s arse hangs in that delicate balance).

From these two “world powers”, I believe there is immense significance for today’s events.

Perhaps only one-sixteenth-of-an-inch in worth, but oh what that meager distance can mean.

The world wishes to survive this massive and horrendous financial failure that has taken place due to what I believe is a lack of diligence in keeping a steadfast eye on that meager sixteenth.

It is only that sixteenth that separates us from the dyed-in-the-wool socialist.

It is “high” time for us to work together with this world to unite against a common enemy – that of world-wide financial depression.

The knee-jerk reaction to the onslaught of financial depression is far-too-often today that of continued strife and horrendously burdensome taxation, and of bloodshed, and of War (turn an eye to Europe for reference).

We can avert that fate!

It is time to come to terms with this world-wide depression, and face it with the economic  precepts that have brought down a wall, and turned China into a financial power-house.

It is time to embrace the concept of capital., yet again.

We must abandon the radical hippie and His mind-set.

We must deal with the world through sound financial concepts (capitalist concepts) that have not only made our Nation great (in the not-so-recent past (Reagan, Bush and Bush), and in a 200-year track record preceding them), but has also born first fruit to the formerly, socialist world (that of China, and in part, the Soviets).

We must demonstrate to the world our confidence not only in our own tried-and-true capitalist philosophy, but also to those that have been borne out in both Russia and in China are maintained.

We must embrace that sixteenth-of-an-inch. We must be vigilant in maintaining it with exacting regularity, and we must demonstrate that we are “in” for the long haul.

We must also make one helluva severe “change” come this November.

The Preicipii calls upon this Nation to commit to a change that will bring us “back to the future”; we must abandon our recent divergence from our tried, and true principles, and re-embrace those to which China now expects us to maintain proper deference, both for their livelihood, and for that of the World-at-large.

It is incumbent, imperative really, that we maintain our vigilance in keeping those fibers of Red, White and Blue from ever reaching that chasm of muck and mire that our Mother Earth represents, along with the Utopian, Socialist lovers of the earthly realm .

Come November, we must see POSITIVE change (for a change).

May the Republican party, in a glory that is manifest in our great symbol of Freedom, in our Nation’s flag…may it once again place that flag in its position of both authority, and of sound, ethical and solid, capitalist ideology, and maintained ever-vigilant in that razor’s edge, one-sixteenth-of-an-inch.

I believe that the World must stop and ensure that this meager, singular, one-sixteenth-of-an-inch be forever and a day, maintained.

And I believe that We the People will only achieve that through the grace of our Lord, and through our incipient knack for eternally maintaining that one-sixteenth that separates us from utter chaos, annihilation, and ruin – in short, Obamanation.

Come November, vote Republican, and VOTE OFTEN !

The Psychology of the Politic: A Short Treatise

When one thinks of the human psyche, the same, trite concepts will penultimately boil to the surface.

But as the chess player, one must (to advance) think beyond the next move.

Certainly, it would be fallacy to then discount all prior moves on the board; for they directly led to the position the player now holds.

So, without forgetting the concepts of sex, food, greed, self-aggrandization, lust, pain, fear, sorrow, love, and the like as primary motivators (for they, among many other motives, truly did bring each of us to the place on the world’s chessboard where we now stand) – what would be he next move?

If we are the product of compendium of past, then what would be a motivator that rises above the frey?  Above those trite (and so obvious) motivators to all of human nature?

Consider the plight America finds itself in today.

We are promised the moon, yet all about we are seeing basic human rights eroding and yielding to a power that plays on all the basic instincts of this, “naked ape” (1, 2, 3, 4).

So what would be the “anti-motive” ?

In other words, what would, literally, be the ticket to waking everyone up and having them say in resounding chorus “I’ve been down this before, I know what you are doing, and I want something more?”.

What is the “something” more?

Think about this, seriously.

The unions have been promised power (and they are clutching at it with their last breaths – they are almost as strong as the gay-psoriatic-lemurs who suffer from a combination of mad-cow disease and syphillis voting block – sorry, but it is the best I could come up with for an extreme minority).

Whoa.

Enough about the unions.

However, let us focus on their motivation.

Obama has promised them the moon, and he is delivering.

Like the mad cry of Samuel Gompers “More, More, More”…like voracious hatchlings in a tangled and twisted bird’s nest, they will never be satiated.

They will literally take the food from one another’s belly.

They are this corrupt.

But is it mere survival that motivates them?  Is it an irrepressive slant toward laziness and having someone else serve their every whim, their every need?

They will not get a biscuit from me, and I would counter that, just perhaps, they crave more than what meets the eye.

They do want self-esteem (and that kind not garnered from blade, bullet or baton) – they wish they could be what others have become through hard work.

They really do desire what all men and women desire – to “better” themselves (they just seem to always seek it through cloak-room, dirty dealing).

To get it as the result of some contract with the devil – there is no esteem in this.

Man’s final motivation, I would argue, is to live up to that which he was created for.

To make his Master happy.

In order to move to the next, best strategic position on this chessboard politic, it is not the usual suspects to which we consevatives need to appeal…it is the suspect to which we far often never (or at best, rarely) appeal.

Our leaders in the Republican-Tea Party should unite under one banner, one mantra, one platform.

“ONE PARTY, UNDER GOD” – Let us all unite and do, what the really, really BIG guy would have us to do.

Regal Regulation

It reminds me of the quote from Sigmund Freud.

The story goes that some of his colleagues pointed out to the pillar who founded one branch of thinking on the subject of psychology that his smoking a cigar, by the very definition of human behavior that he founded, constituted an oral fixation.

His classic reply was “sometimes a cigar is just a smoke”.

There is a certain arrogance and pomp in Sir Sigmund’s response.

It would seem there is a similar arrogance going on today in health care.

Over and over we hear the Democrats speak of how it was unregulated capitalism that has caused the nation to be in the state of chaos in which it now exists, and yet…have we not had almost one, whole year of Obama’s brand of regulation?  Where is the prosperity.

But I digress.

Now, the President has come out and stated that for the purpose of the national emergence that is the H1N1 (swine flu) virus, that we must lift federal regulation so that hospitals can cut through red tape to prevent a pandemic.

Why can’t we cut through the same red tape to put people back to work?

Why do we need the red tape in the first place?

Granted, airlines need certain regulations to ensure a certain standard of maintenance and pilot acumen is being met.  I agree with that.

It is an extreme circumstance.

But how extreme is the swine flu?  How much of this is simply playing on basic human psychology and preying upon the fear of a pandemic (that, by the way, may or may not exist).

Have you heard the joke about the fellow standing on a street corner waving his arms?

Guy walks up to him and says “what are you doing, fella?”.

“I’m keeping away the pink elephants,” he replies.

Well, thank goodness someone is keeping away the pink elephants.

In no way do I mean to suggest that the swine flu is a pink elephant.  It is perfectly normal for pigs to be pink, and for socialists to be pinko.

I do know that a pandemic is a very serious thing, and I believe that one death (child or adult) is one too many.

Staying in bed, drinking plenty of fluids for hydration and doing all you can to get healthy and remain healthy is a must.

I feel the same about our economy and our society in general.

So when is it OK to lift regulation?  When it helps your image, perhaps?

Oh well, I suppose Freud was right.

A cigar can be just a smoke, and there are some who will buy a pig in a polk.

The whole thing is making me a bit feverish.

Guess I’ll try and regulate it with some good, common sense and old-fashioned capitalism (I’ll take two store-bought aspirin and go to bed).

A Time for Reflection

Ahhh, reflection.

Ain’t it grand?

Narcissus thought so.

You remember that cat, don’t you?  You know, the one from Bullfinches?

Bullfinch, you ask?

Yes, Bullfinches, you see, was (and probably is, for any who still read) the  pentultimate collection of Greek Mythology.

And so, what of this Narcissus?  Well, you’ve heard of Narcissim, surely?

If not, let me give you an example, (ahem…well, let my friend’s at “Real Clear Politics” give you an example from our recent history…back before all the hullaballo that goes on in the moment).

Perhaps next week we can talk of that cat who flew too close to the sun…now what was his name?  Oh, yes, that Icarus fellow.

Now, there is some REAL globular warming!

Tooooaaaasty!

(Say Albert…maybe when you and B.O. get finished polishing your Nobel Paprazzi Peace Prizes, and looking at your reflection in them, maybe the two of you will want to hop aboard Icarus Air and take a quick jaunt to see how well his wings of wax are holding up. While you are at it, you can give us all a status report on the solar flare activities and perhaps a ski report or two looking down from on high at one of the earliest ski resort record snows in history.  Looks like it’s gonna be an icey one, fellas!  Maybe you guys will want to re-think that whole “re-writing” history thing as well…huh, guys?).

A Talley of Current Events

Well, just to make certain no one has missed any of the recent news – here’s a re-cap (of course, WITH commentary) –

North Korea-

The Missiles of July

N.Korean missiles fly.  I believe I remember there were 30 launches on July 4 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5).  Did you hear about it on CBS?  Where is Dan Rather and that “most trusted man in America” Cronkite when you need them most?

Probably at a cricket match patting one another on the back about the brilliant manchurian they helped elect.  Ho hum.

Israel-

More Missiles of July

And…what about our Vice President’s remarks about Israel?

Turn them loose on the Iranians?

You decide.

But here’s a piece you’d better place into your heart before you base your decisions on all the spectacular reporting that takes place with ABC, CBS and NBC – yes, Beaver, the Israelis do have nuclear submarines (1, 2, 3, 4).

The “Missed” Missiles of July

Another Country, Heard From

And so, what is America’s response?

Let’s lay down our swords and surrender (1, 2, 3, 4).

I’m not too certain I am altogether comfortable with this whole, “good cop, bad cop” routine that the headline, political “rat pack” of Biden, Obama, Emmanuel and Gibbs are putting forth on the world-wide political stage (or is this stage more meant for comedy, or perhaps comedy-relief in the face of such all-pervasive tragedy?).

Again, you must be the judge of what is happening, but from this country boy’s perspective, it just don’t seem all that grand.

I’m very concerned when I see an ally such as Israel caught up in this sort of rank and sophmoric brand of manipulation.

Where I come from, a man is not respected unless he fights his own fights.  He doesn’t put it off on another of his buddies, doesn’t call in the calvary, he’s “squares off” against his adversary.

No one in the mountains respects a man who looks for his big brother (or little brother) to fight his fights for him.

He respects a man who will look eyeball-to-eyeball with his enemy, and then spit in his eye.

But, I’ll give the comedy duo of BO and JB this much, maybe this change of theirs will turn out a bit different than their schemes might have provided for.  Maybe the world will recognize that not all in America are manipulators.  That there are some left who do business the old-fashioned way. Just may be.

One can only hope (1, 2, 3, 4).

The Edge Gives Way

The eagle’s talon this week have found themselves grasping at loose rock.

All you base jumping, loyal fans beware.

The Precipice is a high perch, and from its lofty height one can view (most) all things (grand, ain’t it?).

But it is a long way down (thank God for wings).

It has been my (ahem) firm commitment to keep all (yeah, right) things personal off the pages of the Precipice.  Those of you who have followed since its inception will remember the various sites and providers we have used (I went back and checked our posts and we have been with WordPress for well-more than a year now…doesn’t seem possible – but we have received no ill complaints and I’m relatively happy here as publisher-in-chief).

Well, on to the personal items.

An eventful week.

A friend approached me about another friend who is what many modern (and mainstream) Christians are referring to as “seekers” (I don’t particularly like this term, but I’m not expending the brain juice to come up with one better, so, it suffices).

Essentially, it set me to thinking about this whole “process” of getting sheep into the fold (and more apt, keeping sheep in the fold).

Now, this takes on whole new meaning if you apply the concept of witness to that of “statesmanship”.

Specifically, I reference the news that the GREAT state of Oklahoma has (for all intents and purposes) declared its sovereignty.

YEEE-HA!

As a sovereign individual, I applaud them (I wish Tennessee had that kind of backbone).

I’m not “in the army now”, and I’ll be damned if I’m taking orders from anybody.

While the United States militia is for all intents and purpose a “purely” socialist entity (we are yo momma and yo daddy boy – yo in the army now) – I’m still a freeborn man, and a capitalist.

Screw the army (and the rest of the quasi-socialist entities).

But I had a friend the other night ask me “Do you really think the federal government is going to allow them to do that?” (declare sovereignty, that is).

Well, let’s think about that.

What can they do to stop them?

Our troops are spread out over the entire planet.

If they were to turn troops on Oklahoma, every state in the Union would reconsider its “affiliation”.

There is nothing wrong, that I can see, with being sovereign.  It simply means that like all Americans, you ain’t gonna put up with anybody’s crap.

Now, that’s the real American way.

But back to the analogy.

I got to thinking about the symbol of the minister, preacher, deacon and warden (generally, any leader of the flock) – the staff.

You know, so many think it is used to prod the strays back into the fold.

I grew up around farm animals, so I know what it is to get them in a line, keep them in a line and “herd” them to a coral or through a chute, or into a trailer or up on a truck.

You do have to try and keep them in line, or else the whole heard resorts to its true nature and scatters to the winds.

Now, I’m from the school that ascribes to “gentle” prodding.  Just a poke in the shoulder.

If one escapes, I’ll let it go.  Round it up later, after I’ve corralled the herd.

But I don’t believe in beating them bloody.  I’ve known some who do.

The other thing that most people do not realize is that prodding is not something one had to do very often with a well-trained herd.

They typically just fall into routines.

They follow the leader (the other a-hole out in front of him).

It’s their nature.

The real use of the prod is not so much to keep them in line, but rather, to keep the wolves at bay.

That is when the stick becomes weapon (not unlike many Christians who turn it against the flock – man, I’ve not been physically abused, but the kinds of mental torture I’ve endured at some of their “PSYOPS” “witnessing” have been worse than any physical pain I’ve endured, and that includes football, wrestling, boxing and long-distance hikes.

Once they get to thumpin’ them bibles, you can sometimes feel like you are caught inside a drum.

I believe that if you look at the predicament faced by B.O., you see the same concept at work.

He has a “straggler” in Oklahoma.  Texas too (you listening, Tennessee??? “T” for Tejas, “T” for Tanasai).

How he proceeds will shape what the rest of the herd will do.

To my friends who ask “do I really think the Federal Government will allow this?”, I respond “do you think they really have a choice?”.

If BO turns his staff on the Oklahomans, he’ll wind up fighting that battle all over.  As each state declares its independence from BO’s staff and sceptor, so too will they declare their National Guardsmen.

Then what?  Civil war?

I think not.

Essentially what we have is something like a massive weight that is pressing down on the states, and all their citizenry.

Something has to give when that kind of pressure is applied.

You see the same happening right now with California and the President’s approach to it.

This is not the time for a cavalier attitude, nor is it the time to wield that staff like a weapon.

Your sheep are not the problem.

It is the cruel master who usually suffers when his critters “turn on him”.

But this is the true nature of radicalism.  It doesn’t care about people, it only cares about its agendas and its objectives.

This is what happens when undue pressures are applied and applied unfairly (and what undue pressure is not unfair).

I don’t think I need to iterate them here for you, but what the hell (wouldn’t want any to misconstrue) – the dismantling of capitalism, the powergrab with the money in the banks (or with the seats in the Senate), the “fairness” doctrine (gag order), doing away with the secret ballot used to vote a union in or out, redistribution of wealth through home loans and bailouts, essentially absorbing US corporations (banks, automotive) and then dictating who their CEO’s will be (and being “choosy” in who gets multi-million dollar bonuses and who does not)…this list can go on, and on, and on, and on.

If this is not turning the staff against the flock, then I do not know what is.

Now, this Christian believes whole-heartedly in stating a case for the “sheeples”…let the sheep decide between staying within the boundary of the trail and the staffs that man its flanks, or to go out into the wilderness and take their chances with the wolves.

Now, I’m someone who has spent a lot of time in the wilderness, and I like it (but, then, I am a Shepherd – literally)…I’m not afraid because I know the secrets of dealing with the wolves.  I know how to keep them at bay.

It is unfortunate, but most of the flock does not.

Arrogant.

You’re damned right.

Self-righteous?  I’ll just let you decide that one.

The fact is, I would NOT want to be in the Chief Shepherd’s shoes right now.

There are grumblings within the herd, and when the herd ain’t happy…

Add the storms of pestilence, disease, war and famine (joblessness) to the mix, and you have the makings for an epoch period of colossal, biblical proportion.

How to avert it?

I would say that the staffs should only be wielded as weapon when there is real peril that the herd will be attacked by wolves.

When you have a so-called “seeker” wishing to join the herd, be leery, but also, be especially gentle and careful with that soul.

When they come into the flock, you want them to feel comfortable being there.

The wilds are a crazy place (and, as I said, I prefer them as I don’t have to deal with a bunch of a-hole following a-holes)…but, I know what it is like to come back into the herd as well.

Its kinda stark and lonely beyond the perimeter of the pathway.  There is much more opportunity to “do good” out there, but there is a sigh of relief within the ranks.

Life inside the herd can be a comfortable place, but under the leadership of a cruel Shepherd, it can be horrendous – so much so, I’d prefer dealing with the entire universe of wolves (and all their predatory cousins).

So, the eagle flies and seeks another perch on high, another precipice in which to latch his talon (don’t worry WordPress – it will be within your universe).

God, here’s hoping that it is always solid ground (dolomite) looking down on fertile hunting ground!

True Torture

WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT

[here’s another good “read” on the subject, or a slight tangent, here]

When I was in College in my Senior year, I had one political science requirement to fulfill before graduating.

Back then, we all waited in tremendous lines with these “cheat” books that contained codes for the myriad of classes offered at the University at that time.

It’s a whole “nuther” story, as the saying goes, but I wish I had one of those books today to visit what courses were offered at the time: it seems I remember so many in the code book that there had to be some covering the sex life of some nefarious creature like a snipe or something – it always felt as if we were on a snipe hunt, trying to
find a class to take.

So here I am, code book in hand, with all the potential courses circled that would meet my requirement.

We’d normally have to stand in line several times to complete our roster of classes for the quarter. What would really tick you off is to find that a professor had dropped a class on the first day of classes – then it would be “back to the end of the line yet again”.

Frustrations were high, needless to say.

I get to the computer and find an opening in one titled “Contemporary Issues in American Public Policy”.

Now, to date myself, these are the 1980’s, mind you.

“Fine Young Cannibals”, “Modern English”, and “Dexys Midnight Runners” were the new sounds on the radio-diddio, and we were just behind the curve on the e-generation that was about to “hatch”.

But the paper-driven, computer guru-gods and god-ettes would smile on me this day (so I thought) – I seem to have hit the jack-pot with this class (well, more like “hit the
crack-pot).

So I get to the class the first day and find out that this is one EVERYONE (whoever EVERYONE is) wants this class. The good Professor and his lectures are highly coveted.

Turns out, the entire quarter would be devoted to the history of the Viet Nam war.

Now, again, let me re-iterate.

The title of the course was Contemorary Issues in American Public Policy and it was the 1980’s.

The 1980’s.

Again, for the benefit of those of my readers edumacated in the public
school systems, the Viet Nam war ended in the 70’s.

I graduated (college) in 1987.

The war seemed a distant memory at this point (some twelve years or more was
already behind us – I had moved on).

Contemporary for me was the issue of the nuns killed by Sandinistas in
Central America, the dismantling of the Iron Curtain and Perestroika, or a new
concept in warfare known as a missile shield, popularly called “Reagan’s Star
Wars”.

But it was a public school, and a university, so I suppose that contemporary
for them is always twenty years behind.

At any rate, I did get to meet a lot of people who were actively involved in
the war.

From street protesters to soldiers, I heard many perspectives.

One that stood out among all was a spook.

Now, due to the time that has passed, I have forgotten spook’s name, so for
the purpose of this article, let’s just call him “Juke” (as in “Juke the
Spook”).

Now again, for those of you from public schools, a spook is a term used most
often to describe spies, assassins (snipers) and special forces. To some, they
are known as “snake eaters”; the WW II generation probably called them
Rangers.

They are a special class, by any soldier’s standards.

In later life, I met another one who served in Viet Nam as well. He told me
that his commanding officer basically told him to essentially go AWOL, live in
the jungle, and kill as many of the enemy as possible. Check back from time to
time with a body count.

They were hard core, needless to say.

Now Juke the Spook, in the story he relates, was actually serving under what
is still a nefarious operation known as the Phoenix Program (1, 2, 3).

He was a sniper, and he killed enemy officers, and South Vietnamese who
collaborated with the Viet Kong.

Torture Defined, by Juke

(WARNING: graphic content
below)

Juke related to us his first kill.

He begins by telling us of a young girl, probably a teenager, who was
repeatedly raped by our predecessors in the war in Indochina, the French.

She was passed around like a rag-doll and I suppose many of the soldiers had
a turn with her.

Needless to say, this affected her psyche in abnormal and extreme fashion
that would prove of great use to our enemy, down the line.

Now, growing up, I had heard all about enemy torture. Brainwashing (PSYOPS)
was a huge topic for a young boy growing up during that war, and we all had a
certain fear of returning soldiers (what had the enemy done to them?).

We all heard the storys of bamboo shoots being shoved up their toe-and
finger- nail beds, of burning flesh, and the monotonous drip, drip, dripping of
water torture (a single drop, between the eyes, perpetual, for
days).

Horrible sounding.

But what Juke related was even worse.

Now it is torture, in itself, to repeatedly rape someone. It would seem
iteration is often a central theme in the use of torture.

But it turned her into a monster.

Juke said that soldiers guarding the perimeter of a certain jungle camp would be taken prisoner in the dead of night.

Somewhere in the jungle, near the base camp, the torture would begin.

This raped, rag-doll marionette for the Cong would have the prisoner hog-tied to a table. Her torture would then begin.

She would take a razor blade and begin at their toes, splitting the skin and peeling it back.

Little by little, she would peel the skin back all the way up their legs,their torso, all the way to their necks.

Of course, they would scream in agony, which was the PSYOPS portion of the operation; the screaming would be heard by the soldiers in the base camp.

I don’t know how many victims she claimed, but Juke was given the task of assassinating her.

He claimed he had no problem with this job.  I imagined that I would not either.

I don’t know anyone who would. Much agony, both in her mind and spirit, and for the poor prisoners that were her victims, would be put to an end with her death.

Now, I don’t know about you, but to sit and watch your body stripped of its skin, and to die in agony (probably of infection) the whole while watching nothing but meat and muscle writhe below – I don’t know, but to me, water-boarding seems a pic-nic in comparison.

This is real torture.

It is confirmed by those in the Hanoi Hilton (John McCain included) that arms would be tied at the wrists behind backs, and bamboo poles placed in the crook of the elbows would be used to lift the soldier, then drop him within inches of the floor before jerking back on the rig – thus pulling the victim’s shoulders from their sockets.

I’ve had a dislocated shoulder. I can tell you that this is “passing out”pain.

Even this, pales to having one’s skin removed.

Pain at least tells you that you are still alive.

Seeing that all your skin is gone and that you look like one of those”Grey’s Anatomy” anatomical man figurine models we put together as kids in the60’s – you know for certain that not only are these your last and final days, but that those final hours and hours and hours would be spent in the most horrific agony.

So yes, my personal opinion is, this sets the low mark for what DEFINES torture.

It (torture) takes many forms, but this is one of the most cruel stories that I have ever heard.

The Club Gitmo Variant

Well, the terrorist held at Gitmo are in a resort by comparison. Their “torture” does not even come close to this kind of agony.

To be dunked in water, forced to believe that you will be drowned (and yet never drowned) – you’d think a torture “victim” would learn…I suppose there is the possiblity that the “torturers” might not revive you after getting a lung-dose of water, but after having been “drowned” so many times and revived, it seems reasonable to assume the torture isn’t killing you.

In fact, it could be equated to standing in lines at the university to signup for classes that have been mis-represented as contemporary when in fact the subject matter is 20-years old; it is just like a Democrat who mis-represents anything remotely resembling the truth.

For example, “I have no interest in socialism” comes the cry from our current “powers that be” – and yet all around all we see of their policy is pure and simple, unadulterated and perfect, socialism.

It brings into question, actually, whether anything in the class could bebelieved.

For example, after relating the story of the “victim” who was raped by the French and then as a result becoming a flesh-eating psychopath, “Juke” goes onto tell us that his last “kill order” was for a village fisherman who he personally knew was no collaborator with the Viet Kong.

Now, there are a lot of red flags and question marks that crop up in hisstories.

He said he layed down his sniper rifle and refused to kill the fisherman.

It is almost poetry, isn’t it?

The war begins noble.

He’s killing insane people who are hurting others.

Then, as a matter of conscious, he refuses a direct order to kill what he says he believes is an innocent.

En masse, the war begins as a noble effort.

To hear a hippie paint it, in the end, we (America) was “in the wrong” -killing innocent fishermen (let’s see now – wasn’t it Christ who was also a fisherman).

Like I said, the story is poetry, and it sounds propagandist.

But here is what we do know.

John McCain and his fellow prisoners were most assuredly tortured at the Hanoi Hilton.

What they endured was definitely worse than what the terrorists at Gitmo have endured.

For me, that should be the end of the story.

But apparently, in all his glory and wisdom, it does not end there for B.O.

He’s gonna have to “bring out the pictures” of torture in Gitmo.

Well, personally, I can’t get the picture of the skinless fellow on a table in the jungle out of my head – or the teenaged rape victim.

Waterboarding.

Sheesh…that seems like something we used to do to Puney Maroni up in the creek on Saturday afternoons to get him to tell us where he hid the candy.

I wonder what kind of “spin” B.O. and his propagandists will put on this one once all of these photos he’s so fond of get released?

I don’t know about you, but I’m beginning to feel tortured by B.O. and his minion of morons.

How ’bout you?

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