//
archives

Logic

This category contains 10 posts

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.

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).

REVOLTING !

Art is either plagiarism, or revolution.

-Paul Gauguin

Headline Views:

“China and U.S. Ships Clash in South Sea”

“US Banks Need Billions and Billions More”

“Obama Feels Pressure on Gay Issues”

Oklahoma, Texas and Others Considering Autonomy

hmmmmm….

Well, above is your plagiarism.

Precipii quotes (or misquotes – all from memory) headlines of the “hundred days”.

Now, Gauguin’s quote is direct.

I always liked Paul Gauguin.  His paintings of Island girls were…stimulating (to say the least).

But there was something more to them than an image evocative of lustful interests (although, lust takes many forms – lust for life, lust for money, lust for food).

There is no doubt is work is ethereal.

What I always liked about them was that for me, I had thoughts of paradise.

Everything about them looked so…easy.  It was as if there was no strife on these islands, as if it were eden.

Gauguin’s sense of humor (and a hint at the subject with the suspended apples) is illustrated in the link above.

If you haven’t taken note, many of Precipii’s articles have of late been focused on the concept of good and evil.

One could argue that it is all about perspective.

One looks at the paintings, and he (or she) could think of a beautiful place, like eden, and then dream of what life on the other side must be like.

As long as the dream does not become wanderlust, one can still go about one’s life and in it, perhaps, remind oneself that a little bit of Gaugin is all around.  Looking for hints of paradise in everyday life.

Goodness then becomes not only a frame of mind, but also something that resides in the heart.

Now the down side of all this is that one might become as the hippies and spend every waking moment seeking paradise – trying to “re” create it here on earth (silly humans, trying to go beyond emulating God and in kind becoming (what the halleucenagenic hippie perceives, anway)…becoming God.

Now we get to the crux of what truly constitutes blasphemy.

Taking the name of God in vain is crossing that threshold and believing oneself to be God.

“God will not hold him guiltless.”

So, there ya go.

Tells me to stay away from halleucenagins and hippies and utopians and socialists and focus more on how to plant and cultivate a golden delicious apple tree.

By the way, were you aware that Eve did not (necessarily) consume an apple?  Biblically, it only references as a fruit – no specifics – (could have been a peach on that tree of evil).

Well, moving right along.

Precipii must always take the little moments to englighten…hmmmm.

So, we have a lot of bad news lately.

Reminds me of that song “So you had a bad day” (I would add “Mr. President in there somewhere, but hey, that’s just how we roll).

I suppose it is no joking matter that ships are scraping one another down China way.

Or that Kommiczar Pelosi is appropriating “billions and billions” to the banks (you’d think with all this money they’d be able to build a death star or something and ship all the home loan defaulters “up there” to man the ship).

Oh well, again with the sad sarcasm (I wonder if this, yet, defines the sardonic) ?

Now for this writer, it is the distinction (or lack of ability to distinguish) between sarcasm (good) and the sardonic (bad, bad, bad – fifty licks with a ruler).

Gaugin: Symbols of Good and Evil: wrestling.

Sardonic is when you cross the line.

Sardonic is when SNL depicts Sarah Palin as a back-alley, coathanger abortionist or a guest on the Springer show.

But then SNL has never been known for its good taste.

Essentially, real people on the show can be reduced to the Southpark cartoon kids.

You’ll not find enlightment, but a great deal of nervous laughter.

But isn’t this, really, what we have become?

No more can we distinguish between light-hearted humor and the morose sardonic as all sacrasm today has crossed that line.

Where Guaguin “winks”, Chevy Chase wears a black and darkened hood.

Placing this mask on one’s face, the world becomes a dark and evil place.  There is no good in it.

The wrestling match is won.

So here is my “thought for the day” – in spite of the headlines, seek ye the goodness first.

Look about the world in a light-hearted fashion, and find that paradise that already exists (wrought by the true master’s hand).

And try and find a little true sarcasm while you are at it.

It never hurts to laugh at ourselves.

Now, if only the bitter and halleucenagenic hippie could learn to do that.

You listening, Chevy?  Senator-elect Franken? Steve Martin?  Tina Fey? (oops).

Hope so.

Be nice to see something really funny for a change!

Oh, and thank you Mr. Gauguin – for making this world a little more beautiful.

For more on Gauguin .

The Duality of Contention

Its Sin, and its Virtue

It is both contemptible, and it is praiseworthy.

On the one hand, contention is the hallmark of the loyal opposition.

On the other, it is the bane of the ruling class.

So what is the fine, divining line for what represents “good” contention?

One must first analyze the concepts of both good, and evil.

The rational mind can easily make such determinations.

For example, when a duck is roasting above an open campfire, “fire is good”; however, put yourself in the place of the duck in the form of a house fire, and “fire is bad”.

The rationalist would say that it is futile to measure, or to try and measure, good and evil.

They would say that it is all based on perspective.

I suppose they’d have somewhat the conundrum on their hands were it to be their cousin, Eddie the duck, who transpires in his house due to fire…but the rationalist would probably say “ah, just go ahead and chow down on old Eddie – never was worth much anyway – oughtta do somebody some good in death, since he didn’t in life”.

I would argue that there is evil in this rationale.

What are you willing to sacrifice so that there can be an improvement in your own condition?  Moreso, what are you willing to see others sacrifice for your own hide?

Being in the minority party now, contention takes on somewhat a “new” light for me.  Now I am forced to defend all, and I am forced to do so by a party that basically falls into the category of the cold rationalist.

They will do whatever it takes to hold on and survive.

I am reminded of spoiled brats I grew up with who would do most anything to “get their way”.

Well, I’m afraid that my contention is a bit different.

I am not willing to sacrifice others for my own sake.

I am, however, most willing to put them in harm’s way for something that is beneficial to us all.

For example, I will not sacrifice one company to save another, when through tried and true principles (free market enterprise), they could both be salvaged.

I was twenty hours from receiving a minor in business, and I remember vividly the mantra of our professors, from econ to business management they railed “Profit is King”.

From the standpoint of business operating in a capitalist system, there is absolute truth in this statement.

The unfortunate thing is, we are no longer a capitalist system (some say never to be again, but I disagree – all things are possible with God, and I believe, free men).

Henry Ford once said “they can have any car they want as long as it is black and a Model T”.

General Motors introduced the concept of a paint line.

People could have a choice.

And boy, did they ever choose.

So much so, that the concept of diversification took on new life.

From the concept sprang not only paint lines, but different car lines.

What was once one, became many.

Cadillac, Pontiac, Chevrolet, Oldsmobile, GMC (and I’m sure I’m leaving some out) – the concept grew into the titan.

I learned, also in business school (and probably before through friends and other classes) that the Japanese have a saying that “on a clear day, you can see Mt. Fuji” (the island chain, I understand, is more extensive than meets the eye in Japan and I’m sure it is akin to my seeing my smoky mountains from far reaches – reminding me of home).

A book came out once entitled “On a Clear day, you can see GM”.

General Motors is one of the flagship corporations that made this nation strong.

It is in part what has stood as a rampart of sorts.  It is one tier in a lined fortress.

ALCOA, IBM, US Steel, Unisys, Microsoft…the list can go on, and on ad infinitum.  Each one represents a rampart in our fortress.

And now we have the voice of “change”.

“Mr. Obama, tear down those walls!”.

Yeah.

It is one thing to tear down a wall that is oppressive and designed to keep people in.

But let’s consider, these are multi-national corporations.   They employ people all over the world.

They are not designed to either keep people in, or keep people out.

Theirs, is but one mission.

Profit.

They are not prejudiced.

I once worked for a heavy metals company.  I remember fondly how they would say, “we know how to do one thing, and we know how to do it well.  We make that metal.  That metal is our pay.  We do it right because we know there is a reward in the end in the form of our paychecks that we get from making the stuff. It is what we do”.

Now we have Obama and his merry band telling us that they have it all wrong.  That somehow, this needs to be changed.

It is not “fair” that they should make a profit through their hard work when others do not.

Horseshit.

Fair.

You want fair?

Fair is seeing the feather-bedding sons-a-bitches getting off their assess and help the rest of the world turn a profit.  That is fair.

Fair is having a system where everyone is expected to pull their weight.

Fair is a world free from muzzles of the kind Congress and BO’s stinking plans want to place on blogs and talk radio through the “fairness” doctrine.

HORSESHIT!

There is no fairness in their regulation (UNLESS your lazy ass is laying in a feather bed).

He is single-handed tearing down what this nation has built from dust.

He is taking a thriving, positive system and turning it into one that “plays favorites”.

He is essentially reducing it to the lowest common denominator, the sluggish, apathetic sorry piece of shit laying in a feather bed while others accept risk and build civilization.

I am no rationalist when it comes to good and evil.

I believe that any can see the difference between the two.

There can be no good in dismantling through regulation.

The bible states that evil will twist the truth and use it to its own devices.

I believe we are witnessing this first-hand.

There is no good in the policies that are being forced down the throat of this nation today.

What we have is an evil Pygmalion one with an intent not to improve the lot of some lowly individual (what was lowly about American capitalism – once the envy of the world?).

What we have is someone with their own concept of what is righteous and good, and yet from what I see, there is no good in any of his policies.

To destroy what was once something others held in high esteem – where is the good in that?

I remember when Russians (before the wall came down) – when common Russians desired to wear Levi jeans.

We took them for granted.  They were “knocking around” clothes.

They were prized behind the iron curtain.

What is evil in that?

Rampant greed?

Sure, if the object is greed.  But what if it is simply to have a quality pair of durable britches that happen also to be (in some individual estimation)…stylish?  Is that evil?

I always detested that teacher from school who would say “if you bring bubble gum into the class, you have to bring one for everybody”.

Like hell.

It was my ass that was out on the weekends picking up bottles to turn them in for coins with which to buy the bubble gum.

Let the other bastards get out in the hot sun and pick up bottles so that they too can enjoy and nice, juicy chew in school.

What is unfair is for you to expect me to work double-time for the damned lazy slugs who would not get up off their fat assess to change their minds, much less earn a piece of bubble gum.

Contentious.

Your damned right.

But I believe that mine is a form of contention that stands for what is true, and what is right, and therefore, what is righteous.

No more mister nice-guy.

It is time to take off the gloves, and fight for my damned piece of bubble gum.

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?

On Piety

Because religion and politics seem forever joined, perhaps it is a good excercise to consider the political arena from inside the world of religion.

Everyone seems to have an opinion in both, and when governing becomes wholly legalistic, some begin making comparisons to religion.  For example, in business one might see an outfit begin to call a manual for assembling a machine “the bible”.  The “world” which this religion oversees is completely within the confines of the piece of equipment and the factory that takes it from materials and parts to a working final product, the experts who make it happen, and the scribes who describe, define and revise its page through “epiphany”.

Now this is where the distinction should diverge from religion (for there should be no revision in the bible of a true religion – the word of God should be steadfast).  Unfortunately the secular world, so hell-bent on change, must apply the rules of politics that it sees in daily life.  There must be this self-reflection and the subsequent changes to fit an improved model in keeping with a world that must constantly improve.

Of course, even “improvement” becomes definitional.

Then there are these contrarians who point out this system’s flaws.  They become the nay-sayers and truly act as impediment to any advances in the system.

At essence, they become the anti-religion, and a religion unto themselves.

Think of friends who do not attend church.  They are on the outside, looking in.

“Oh, they are so pious, so “holier-than-thou” – who wants to be a part of that”, they might querry.

From the perspective of the anti-religious, their only meaning in life is mere existence. It becomes fashionable to criticize those who desire to worship.  “They think they are better than me.  They’re not better than me.  Look at all that I’ve accomplished”.

It is the equivalent of one inside a factory who really does nothing more than point out short-comings and how nothing is working like it could and how someone else has a much better mouse-trap and it is only a matter of time before they build it and through competition run us completely out of business.

The anti-religious base their own concepts of “good” living solely on the perception of a world they create around them.  If they withdraw into their homes and start a cottage industry making shoes, shoes and the sustenance provided by their production become the “cargo cult” of the group.  Their religion becomes their work (the sale of shoes becoming the “great provider”).

I like to think of these contrarians as the one guy on a life raft who has all the ideas on how to be rescued, but never does anything but talk.  He’s usually also the one who tries to steal the last morsel of food, or horde a candy bar in his pocket rather than try and contribute to the survival of the group.

It is easy to sit on the outside and critique, but it is the depth of chicanery to be the one who does nothing but point out flaws.

In essence, the contrarian becomes the definition of what he critiques.  “They are so pious, so holier-than-thou”.  Well, what are you?

It doesn’t help matters any, though, when you have peacocks running around on the plant floor.  “There is no system better than ours.  We produce the perfect widget.  Why no one would dare compete with our widget”.

Think of the loyal church-goer who becomes so

Now, consider this.

In spite of all of the above, somehow, every day, widgets get manufactured, the faithful stay on board the life-raft, and, of course, the nay-sayers “nay” (please, please do not miss this reference to a donkey).

How does that happen?

There are those on the life raft who decide to stop talking, stop agonizing, stop trying to define, and simply “do”.

What do they do?

They find ever scrap of fabric on board and they fashion a sail using knots, safety pins, fishbones and whatever other resources they may drum up to produce something other than a useless wind that emanates from the vocal chords of a mule-headed dullard.

They fashion a mast from an oar, and while yesterday they were hapless, hopeless victims – they are today sailors.  They now do something other than just talk to deal with their plight.

This survival mechanism that leads to industry, it is based on the concept that “I was created, therefore, I will create”.  I will do something.  I will become something that before I was not.

This is the essence of religion, and there can be no better reason for worship.  To  transcend the surly bondage of earthly existence and draw upon that spirit within, that “self” not envisioned by an earthly reflection pondered by ethereal eye, but rather one encountered by an understanding of a spirit greater than self – this becomes change as ordinary as changing one’s mind, or one’s clothing.

You will operate clad in a new armor, not extracted of self, but forged in a furnace beyond your realm, beyond you.

You become this religion, and this religion is becoming unto you.

Alternately, one can just choose to exist in that preening world of puffed and feathered breastplate, while away the days and spread a colorful peacock fan and point out to all incessantly what a better job someone else could do.

With any luck for the rest of society, while completely absorbed in that narcissistic self-orgy of yours,  you will somehow find yourself floating in a sea of angst just moments before the life raft makes landfall.

Believe it or not, there are probably multitudes within the “religion” would love to give you that “little push” you so richly deserve.

As the saying goes (and this, in this moment in political history is an absolute) “it is sink, or swim”.

Here’s hoping that all that preening lent you some buoyancy.  I have a feeling you are quite soon-to-be in desperate, desparate need !

So maybe I should back off a little…

Someone I really respect indirectly made me think about the content here on “The Precipice”.

He talked about how the politics of personal destruction needs to end in Washington.

I can agree with him, in principle, but you know, we conservatives have been taking it on the chin for a long time.

First it was Churchill (over the pond) when the whole country was against him (twice – once when young, and once when PM AFTER the war).

Then it was Barry Goldwater, followed by Nixon, Reagan, Quayle and now Bush.

I don’t know. Do you think if I back off on all the personal comments here on the Precipice that those lousy, yellow heel-hound Dems would then remove their nasty, little teeth from our ankles?

I doubt it.

Oh, I know it is the high road. I’d probably be a better man if I did not stoop to such levels.

Personally, I just wish a man would step up to the plate and give the Dems the “what for”.

I mean, this is the way they fight. They are the street fighters of political discourse. There is no finesse fighting them – no holds barred, and they set the low bar for this.

So what does anyone expect? For us to simply lay down and take it?

Perhaps this fellow of which I speak is correct. He says that we should fight based on policy issues, no personal destruction.

I can’t argue with that. It is wise.

But I have to tell ya, when the policies are affecting me on such a very personal level, I feel like getting personal with those policy makers.

When their policies stink, I think the stench emanates from a putrefied set of values and that those values emanate from within the man himself – therefore, both policy, and man, stink.

So, because I respect this individual so, I will make a concerted effort to no longer make this so very, very personal. I will try and stay above-board, and stay away from any dirty tricks.

Now, like a drunk or a sex fiend, I will probably have some difficulties staying on the wagon (not that I know anything about what it must be like to be either – merely speculating here); but from what I’ve seen in the movies, heroin addicts have a tough time staying off the junk.

I have a feeling that I will have a hard time keeping my comments about Pelosi, Reed, Obama, Clinton and all the rest of the DC equivalent of the Crips and Bloods on a high plane, but I will try.

So no more comparing B.O.’s admin to the scum that lies at the bottom of a cess pool; no more jibes at Pelosi and that “hammer” she likes to weild; and no more comparing Schumer to the anus of a gnat (with brains to match).

Gonna stay away from it.

“Not gunna do it”.

No sir, I’m turning over a new leaf in the new year. A big leaf. A big leaf that had formerly been hiding what lies underneath – a big **** .

No more acting like one of those, no sir.  Gonna get on the straight and narrow, yes sir.

Yeah.

♣ ♣ ♣ ♣

In keeping with the new policy of no more “personal destruction”, I will simply say this – boy, that Obama, he’s really all about “change” isn’t he?  Dollars to donuts says he will constantly change like a chameleon trying to find the combination that will work for him, and never achieve the results he’s looking for.

This is what happens when you buy a Presidency (or sell a Senate seat); you wind up with a dog that has “caught” the car, and is now trying to figure out just where to bight it.

For America’s sake, I am praying for a GOP-controlled Congress, and just as soon as we can get it there!  We need some leadership that is not going to be in a constant “scramble” mode, but rather, one that focuses on solutions that actually “solve” our problems.

###

Thank you Mr. Funk*o*sly-elect, yo sly…

Well, well well.

It is most difficult for me to put myself in the shoes of someone else.  Writing is a real chore, and to do it well, you really have to contemplate the character of others.

To write a story about a killer, you have to “become” a killer (not literally, but more, drawing upon the act, for instance, of hunting (whereby we kill critters), or farming where we have to at times “do the dirty deed” of taking down livestock)…now, I suppose, you Peta-ites would consider this equitable to murder (and, hell, you may be right).  Fact is, the act is violent, and a very close second to that (I would imagine) of killing a human.

But the bottom line, you have to draw upon what you can in your experience in order to do a creditable job of, in effect, “becoming” that character.

I can not, literally “become” a Hebrew.  I’ve studied one nearly all my life (the carpenter), and I think I’ve come to know Him pretty darned well; but I still do not know what it is like to be a Jew.  Can I write about one?  I think so.

Let’s consider this; the one thing most anathema to me is any sick SOB who would hurt or destroy the innocents.  How can you harm creatures who are not as strong as you and feel good about yourself?

I am reminded of this given the current events (finding that poor, little girl in the woods yesterday – the big news story – very sordid situation, and just horrid).

Now that is something that I’ll never have any personal resources upon which to draw.  BUT, I can still “put myself” in the person’s head.  What would motivate someone to hurt a child?  Perhaps, as a child, they were hurt themselves.  Perhaps they are “dissociative”, whereby they truly HAVE never been loved and have only known violence in their own lives (perhaps constantly and consistently threatened with bodily harm and even death. They disconnect with the act, and consider it as trivial as shooting a bird for dinner).

Sick, sick, sick.

So, anyway, I woke up and began pondering this whole concept of the “Missile Shield”.

Our peerless leader-elect has now “reassured”Israel that “if Iran attacks them” then “we will lob a bunch of missiles at Iran” (to paraphrase).

Well, putting myself in the shoes of an Israeli, I can only say “Gee…thanks.”…

After the fact, you are going to bomb my enemy.  You have always been such a great friend.  Thanks for the sacrifice, pal.  Did you have to think long and hard to choke that one up?  Say, how is it you treat your friends back in Chicago?  Baseball bat to the back of the head like Al Capone?

Hmmmm.  You know, in management school, one of the concepts they really stressed was that of proaction.  Let’s do what we have to in order to circumvent an act, or more appropriately, a catastrophic failure.

Do you really think that a Nation who preaches bevies of Virgins as reward to their martyrs…do you really think they are going to care about a nuclear missile coming down their pipe AFTER they have accomplished their goal of destroying their enemy?

In my country, you will do all you can to take the guns out of our hands.  You will beg, borrow and steal; connive and manipulate; legislate and mandate; and yet to our ‘real’ enemies, you only capitulate.

You say we “cling” to our guns and bibles, and look at you; your “fortress”, your strength is protest, and civil disobedience and “civil” unrest…pure upheaval – not unlike the Iranian approach.

You argue that to make America’s streets safer, you want to melt all the handguns and assault weapons into manhole covers, and yet you will not make a pre-emptive strike on Iran, who we know IS building a nuclear missile, and who we know from track record (PROVEN – like the WMD’s) that are willing to use it without reservation, and with bold determination (like the 500 hostages – remember them, President Carter?).

I say proven WMD’s.  Do any remember the jet fighter that was dug from the sands on the Iraq border with Syria?  Do any of you know of the destructive capability of a single jet fighter when launched against a city, say, of the population density of  a Chicago, or a New York (you listening, Nashville)?

One volley (about five seconds on the trigger) lobbed against, say the Sears Towers…how many people do you think those 50 caliber rounds would wipe out?  A hundred?  Five hundred?

What about a single hell-fire missle launch (one of ours)?  How many then? The whole building?

Is that “mass” enough for you, Mr. President-elect?

What about the third largest army in the entire world?  Do they have (would have), have, destructive capability that would earn them the monniker of “mass”?

Maybe it is like your concept of the “rich” where your economic warfare is concerned.  Or the super-rich.  (Say, where does Oprah fall in these delineations?).

One nuclear strike against Israel by the Iranians could wreak utter devastation.

And what your plan?  “Oh, rest assured, we’ll take care of business after-the-fact”.

I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel so self-assured when a child of the Chicago-7 tells me “all will be right with the world”.

Kinda leaves my soul all a quiver, like a solitary hanging chad shimmering in the breeze, hanging by less paper than represents the integrity of a Demonrat politician (and worse, a Demonrat from Chicago).

It is the call of the Precipice that we absolutely must, as a Nation, support our allies.  We will have no allies left if we turn our backs and opt for a sit-in or love-in somewhere in El Segundo.

The Israelis have already made it clear that they will “go it alone” (what a sorry state of affairs)…and our only consilation in this is that we will do honorable thing and “vindicate” their deaths.

Frankly, I think Capone showed more leadership skills; he would not wait for a hammer to fall, he’d swing a baseball bat against his enemies, were he to “perceive” them as such.

The Emperor, Sir Peuxk

or, “The Miserable, ‘Modernized, Anglicized’ “

The action takes place in El Segundo, year of our Lord, 2009.

A block in this medium-sized city has formed a “gas line” that stretches to the next larger city, and from there to the next larger and so on all the way to Beijing (and back).

The middle class has found that the government-mandated “hybrid” vehicles could be modified to get more “pep” by hooking up the batteries in series and running a hydrogen-gasoline mixture known as “hydro-ethylene”, “hyrdo-eth”, “Hydra”, “Ethyl-Hi”, “Ethie” or simply “Hydra”.

It was like the lingo of the drug pushers with Meth (crystal meth, “iced-‘T’ ” and all that rot).

Because the government had been offering incentives to buy the hybrids, and due the high failure rate of the batteries and all the fires on the interstates, they offered a program whereby if an individual’s vehicle had met with some ill-fate, the government would then offer vouchers on the next purchase of a vehicle. The failure rate was about 60% before the advent of hydra, which had essentially driven it up effectively to about a 78% percent rate, with intensely more horrific fires on the highway.

Capitalism had found its refuge (as it always does) in the under-markets.  It was the black-market trade in hydra where it still thrived in the sub-soil; where it lies dormant, waiting for its next resurgence in a truly free society totally exposed to the light of day. In flagranté delcti, naked, and unabashed.

People began trading the cocktail in the era of the “greenheads”. It was said they had ivy growing through their ears and into their brains, but that assumed they had any brains to begin with.

The ivy probably found a seed in the cranial cavity and began to grow from the inside-out given the fact they all appear to be as inanimate (other than for their hyper-prolific nature where reproduction and growth is concerned – thus the link to ivy).

Still, while as prolific as kudzu, they were also every bit as smart.

At any rate, the geniuses, led by their chief-superior genius Sir Peuxk, had imposed their own form of religion on the rest of society.

Theirs was a religion not of deity, but a religion in which they had made an agenda their god.

They served this agenda with supreme regularity, and all were condemned to hell who had not joined their cause.  They would eventually be covered in kudzu and smothered by the regulation and regularity of “the system”.  It was a smothering vine, indeed.

They would be persecuted in the workplace, driven from their homes and forced to feed off the land that provides that ever-more valuable “hydra”.

Such as always is the case, life endures and finds all alternate avenues of existence.

Strict enforcement policies had been instituted, and an already over-taxed federal government decided to redirect any drug enforcement officers to the task of regulating the illegal trade in hydra.

But, oh, how those cars did fly.

The ivy-skulls were so married to their philosophy that they had no such provisions for their own, hybrid vehicles.

It was said “the government force-feeds hybrid, and we feed our bellies with hydra”.

There was very little the agents could do.  Most were the bottom-of-the-barrel anyway.  All the good agents who were committed to getting kids off junk, they’d left for the coast (took retirement, found other avenues of sustenance, like dealing in hydra).

What was left were the other brainless who had been educated in public schools and who’s main interest was to party like it was the end of the century; these dregs were ultimately committed to bringing down a world, a society, a bold and beautiful democracy and mold it into a pig sty.

They wanted a world that swims in the same pig shit they swim in when high on meth at their “enviro-friendly, drug-swap-fest-concerts”.  Hippies, swimming in shit and wrapped in the suffocating kudzu they call “the agenda”.

Damned ivy-heads.

This would explain the incredible rate at which hydra had taken over this society.  It was a commodity that platinum, gold or even plutonium could not rival.

Everyone wanted hydra.

{Precipii apologizes for this divergence into fiction.  Normally we are ONLY dedicated to commentary on current events, but this morning we wax, poetic, on a truth lightly-peppered with lies.  What was it Hitler or Goebles said “Big lies, little truths”.  Well, if we ever indulge in any further (and more feeble) attempts at fiction, we will dedicate ourselves to profound truths and incey-wincey lies (reverse propaganda, or death by needle prick).

The editors at Precipii will leave this page in tact for a bit, then move it to another page accessed from the banner above with some appropriate button/title like “fiction” or “heap-big stories told from forked tongue”, or, maybe just “fork-ed tongue”.  Yeah, sounds good.

Happy reading, gentle readers! }.

… in the big lie there is always a certain force of credibility; because the broad masses of a nation are always more easily corrupted in the deeper strata of their emotional nature than consciously or voluntarily; and thus in the primitive simplicity of their minds they more readily fall victims to the big lie than the small lie, since they themselves often tell small lies in little matters but would be ashamed to resort to large-scale falsehoods. It would never come into their heads to fabricate colossal untruths, and they would not believe that others could have the impudence to distort the truth so infamously. Even though the facts which prove this to be so may be brought clearly to their minds, they will still doubt and waver and will continue to think that there may be some other explanation. For the grossly impudent lie always leaves traces behind it, even after it has been nailed down, a fact which is known to all expert liars in this world and to all who conspire together in the art of lying.

—Adolf Hitler , Mein Kampf, vol. I, ch. X[1]

Archives