Wisdom from the 60's

There is a moral to be learned from Kent state. It is this:
Never throw rocks at people with guns.

Nothing more.

Another WWII Hero Passes...

I just heard on the radio that Eddie Albert passed away today.

I know of others who have passed, friends fathers who served the Marines as a scout/sniper in the Pacific, a famous WWII P-38 ace withering away, neglected, in a VA Hospital*.

The backbone of this country is crumbling like the hip on an osteoperotic octagenarian and no one seems to notice. These good men are passing.

This posting is taking a turn from where I was expecting it to go...

There's been some griping about Anakin and Obi-Wan being effeminite. Look where they came from, Hollywood.

Recently I read a posting/comment on Vox Populi about how Vox's progammer brother was referred to as being 'to macho' by a Hollywood babe. The poster was reviewing this comment through the eyes of a Minnisotain and saw humor in it.

Sounds to me that Hollywood is so far removed from the rest of the country, at least the country I know, that what they see as 'to macho' we would see as just a normal guy.

Maybe this is why Anakin is not as masculine as we think he should be.

Now imagine Obi-Wan, if Eddie Albert had some say in Hollywood. Obi-Wan would probably had taken Anakin out back behind the Jedi Temple and 'explained' to him why it was wrong to butcher a whole tribe of sand people and not stop till Anakin got over his pride/anger/guilt and admitted it was the wrong thing to do.

Instead they have some PC feminized scriptwriters writing about something they know nothing about. Where's Eddie when you need him?

oh yea, Eddie's dead, his kind are dying.

*If there is ever an arguement against government run health care, it's the level of care and professionalism that the VA system distributes. Our vets have earned and been promised health care and the government is failing them on so many levels. Now I ask this: If our government can't give health care to a small minority who deserve it, how do we expect them to provide better care for the rest of the nation?

Oh Really?

I read this and have to wonder. The article states that:
"Israel and Saudi Arabia are already under Iranian nuclear threat."

It's all really about money and power. "Follow the money" is the rule that will always guide you to the truth, right? Who has the biggest checkbook in the Middle East? It's that Jordanian family, the House of Saud, who seem to finance so very much in the Middle East while not solving anything.

The House of Saud own a piece of arabia and we all call it Saudi Arabia. That's them.

The 'Palistinian' people are really nothing more than refugee Jordanians that never got a home (I could blog for days on this topic alone). The Saudi's finance their countrymen to send their children off, Semtex strapped around their chest, to blow up Isreali coffee shops.

Now I ponder this: If the Saudi's have no problem financing and sacrificing their own to carry bombs, would they have any moral problems financing someone far removed from them to deliver a bomb? Someone like a foreign government and a bomb like a nuke?

Follow the money baby, follow the money.

Historical Tidbit

George H. Bush rode Ronald Reagan's coattails. That is no surprise.

I was surprised to see that it was George, before he was the Vice Presidential canditate, that coined the term 'voodoo economics' as criticism of 'trickle down economics.'

Seems that he rode the coattails as a hostile parasite, not as a like minded Republican.

Back during the Reign of Scandals, stories surfaced about a major cocaine import business running through Mena, AR.

Being to darn lazy to research it, I want to suggest that George Bush was Director of the CIA at some time during these activities, but I won't hang my hat on it.

Seems like GHWB and William (un)Jefferson Clinton must have been in cohoots, doesn't it. I thought so at the time I read about Mena.

Now I see GHWB and WJC hanging out like a pair of old friends. Makes me wonder. Are they old friends?

Another Surveillance Monitor in the House

If the higher level of education wasn't enough, if the world view socialization wasn't enough, if the threat of sexual abuse wasn't enough, maybe this article will motivate someone who cares about their children and their families to homeschool.

Treaty, What Treaty??

I've just seen the picture that seems to have set the whole world a chattering. No, I'm not talking about Episode III, I'm talking about the Saddam in his underwear.

Talk radio has people griping about how International Treaties have been violated by this picture. I ask how? Someone may have broken the law, but that is no more a violation of international treaties than any French tourist getting carjacked in Florida.

Could it be that some of the loudest cryers are just jumping on the next option to criticize America? I bet some of the protests were scheduled months ago and since the disrespecting of the Koran has been shown to be a lie, this is the most inflammatory story to try and pin a protest to.

Look at the decent people of Iraq. Many have known nothing but fear of Saddam. They knew we beat him the first time, but he was still there. He must have seemed invincible as they feared him.

Now they've seen him vulnerable and human. For how many Iraqis did this picture bring this truth home? Saddam is to be feared no longer.

Untill we get a picture of him posed like Mussolini after his 'dismissal', we'll have to settle for him in his tighty whities.

UPDATE:
The following graphic will let you know how seriously I take this issue:
Mothers must have lobbied for this safety feature.

UPPERDATE:
Then there is this item on ebay.

The Sithian Hegemony

I saw Episode III last night. The movie I waited 28 years to see.

No, I was not one of the guys wearing a costume, though I do give credit to the quality of some of them. A little part of me felt like I was attending The Rocky Horror Picture Show without the rice, squirt bottle, and newspaper.

My expectations were so high, I expected to be dissapointed. I was not.

Go see it. You will enjoy it.

Spoilers to follow at a later date and time...

UPDATE:
I've read other bloggers (who I respect) postings on this movie and they had unfavorable opinions to report. Maybe if I was a woman and I wanted to see a 'relationship' movie, I'd agree, but this is a science fiction movie.

My wife says that all a movie needs to have for me to like it is aliens or battles. Episode III has both, I think she's right.

What Moves in the Night?

Like blood from a fatal wound, shivers ran down Morgan's spine. It was not the dark chill of the night, but the word the old man spoke. "Lycanthrope" he said while casually gesturing towards the shuffling form in the distance.

She was an avid reader and preferred horror. Just recently she had read the last of the R.L. Stine Goosebump series and had moved on to meatier horror stories. She knew the word meant 'werewolf'. She could see it in his gait as he approached. Walking upright without grace, as if it would be more efficient to lope along on all fours, but the hind legs are too long and clawed hands have replaced the front paws.

"All the better to claw you with." She imagined him growling as the last seconds of her life drained out her ripped out throat, the dreams of her life lost to a fell beast.

He'd shuffle to the left, then shuffle to the right. The pattern repeating itself. It looked so familair, where had she seen it before?

Morgan tensed, frozen with fear, unable to breathe, her pulse pounding in her ears as something rustled in the trimmed bushes much closer on her left. Not one, but two things were moving in the shrubs when she remembered that wolves hunt in packs. Where you saw one, there were more and they'd circle their prey before they attacked.

That is what the one moving out in the open is doing. He's distracting them, shuffling about, while the others creep up from all sides preparing to attack. Are wolves smart enought to do this? Are werewolves? They have a human brain, but if it was working right, they wouldn't be vicious killers, would they? Morgan pondered this, not that the answer would prolong her life, till the crickets on her right stopped their chirping.

The shuffling as a distraction didn't seem quite right. There must be another reason.

In the menacing silence the only sound was the clouds sliding in front of the moon. Whatever was in the shrubs had stopped moving. They must be in position, eyes black, mouth half open, upper lip quivering, drool stringing towards the ground, she imagined. In the pale moonlight she strained her eyes trying to see their fetid breath rising.

Morgan though how she hated the word gibbous as she looked at the moon. Her brother has books to horrible for her to read. She knows, she read part of one, but could read no further. In one, a despicable horror named Yog-Suggoth killed people and the lucky ones were driven insane. Yog-Suggoth, gibbous, they sounded like words from the same foul language. "It is truely a gibbuos moon" Morgan thought.

Her grandfather's gun always scared her, but tonight she was glad it was there, tucked into his waistband with just the littlist bit of grip showing. Earlier that year, her favorite teacher, Ms Evans had asked her class if there are any guns in their homes. Two of her friends raised their hands and told, but Morgan couldn't. She felt like she let Ms Evans down, and felt bad about it, but the thought of raising her hand just felt worse.

She knew her grandfather reloaded. Now she understood why. Silver bullets! "Those bullets he loads must be silver, why else reload. Everyone knows that you can't buy silver bullets, you have to reload your own" she thought.

Then she pondered, "If they're silver, why aren't they shiny?" as she began to doubt the old man's ability to protect her. "Because he doesn't polish them" she answered as she realized the obvious answer. She had seen her Grannies silver teapot range from dull gray to blinding brilliance depending on the formality of the family visit.

Morgan realized where she had seen that shuffling, side to side, gait. Her brother's dog, Sherlock, would trot like that when he knew a rabbit had been in their yard. He would do it when hunting, casting to and fro, trying to pick up a scent. That's what the werewolf was doing. He was searching for her scent. It would not be long till he found it.

Morgan looked at her grandfather who sat, relaxed, next to her. How could he not see what I see? He pointed out the werewolf in the first place! Why was he not reaching for his gun? Then she realized that her grandfather trimmed his ear hair. He had more ear hair than any man she had ever seen. The revellation that her grandfather was a werewolf stretched her limits of comprehension.

Two forms burst from the hedge and savagely attacked their prey. Talons pierced flesh and hungry mouths ripped into their first meal of the night. Their victim never had a chance to utter a sound. In short time, night seeing eyes atop blood smeared faces, flew off into the night searching for more to eat.

Morgan shrieked and leapt into her grandfather's lap nearly knocking him off the porch step.

"It's OK Possum, that was just the Owls from the Hedge. They're harmless, unless you're a fieldmouse."

The figure out on the street turned and looked. Morgan then recognized him as Lycan Thorpe and realized that her imagination had just run wild. Lycan was nice, but old enough for college. Brittney's sister, the first day she had her drivers license, had snuck into the Longshot Saloon and danced with him. "Lycan is nice and not a bad kisser" was how she told the story, but warned that "his tongue tastes like beer."

Morgan thought that Lycan was lonely and needed a girlfriend, but that hardley made him a werewolf. The beer might make him stagger, but that doesn't make him a werewolf either.

"Oh, Lycan Thorpe" she said in relief that her grandfather hadn't said 'lycanthrope.'

With a nod, her grandfather quizzed "What do you think I said? I think you're reading to many scary books?" and grinned as he remembered the thrill that follows a good scare.

The two got up, entered the house to the smell of fresh hot apple cider, and closed the door on the night.

The gibbous moon lit the path for Lycan as he resumed casting for scent, the night was fresh and his hunger gnawed.

A Camcorder, the Right Place, the Right Time

I hope she's worth it.

These two obviously think so.

Go Buy Treason

Two weeks ago I bought Treason, by Ann Coulter, the paperback version. It was on discount and was strategically located where it could be purchased on impulse. I bit.

I like reading her column at WND. I agree with her points and find her sarcasm both humorious and entertaining. But enough is enough. At times she comes across as smartmouthed and hostile.

Her book is written at a much more informative level then here weekly columns. The material in the book is presented in a totally different format that I'm just eating up. I'm enjoying reading it much more than I ever thought I would.

If you like her columns at WND you've probably already read her books. If youi don't like them, give it a try, this book is not what you're expecting.

Remember this

Much to my shame I find the bible dry to read. I've read it all and upon rereading portions of it, I can't help but think "I've read this before." It's familiar and while 'familiarity breeds contempt' doesn't apply here, I could say that 'familiarity fosters boredom.'

Then I recall a sermon I heard about 12 years ago on Luke, Chapter 43, verses 42-43. For those of you not familiar (now I'm not implying anything) with it, here it is:

Luke, Chapter 43, verses 42-43:
⁴² And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom. ⁴³ And Jesus said unto him, "Verily I say unto thee, To day shalt thou be with me in paradise".

Here Christ is being crucified and is speaking with the thief that sees Him for who He Is and honors him.

Translated to the modern english, it sounds like the thief is asking Christ to think about him every once and a while, right? What else could he mean by "remember me"?

Dismember is a verb that means to take something whole and violently, or with great passion, tear it apart. Remember is the opposite of dismember. Today we think of 'remember' as making our memory whole, but as used originally, it means to take something that is broken and ripped asunder and to put it together and not stop till it is whole.

This is what the thief is asking Christ to do. To take him, repair him, redeem him, make him whole, and not stop till He is done.

Christ's response implys that the thief will be, there in paradise, in his entirety, before the day is out.

This blows me away. The understanding of one word, remember, makes this passage awesome to me.

I can only figure that the whole bible is like this. That if it is boring, it is my lack of understanding that makes it so.

What Price to Pay for Deterrence?

I have a two year old son. Occasionally he gets spanked.

Last night is an example. With a pair of chopsticks, he developed a fighting style that looks a lot like Phillipino stick fighting. The 3' plant was an unwilling sparring partner and is expected to recover. For this he got spanked and sent to his room for about 5 whole minutes.

The rest of the night went like a charm (as usuall).

I doubt that I had to spank him for the night to go as well as it did. I do believe that spanking him will prevent some boyish assaults on things that should not be destroyed. Yea, spanking works as a deterrence, but not all the time.

Jumping to capital crimes, is execution a deterrence? Is it the best deterrence?

Criminals don't commit crimes expecting to get caught. Unlike my son, who has a parent nearby the vast majority of his life, and a trusted adult the rest, the criminal element is not supervised (outside of prison). Maybe if the violent carjacker had someone say "You'll get executed if you do that" when he's eyeing the blue haired lady in the Lexus, hand on his 'baby nine', the threat of execution would work. But this is not the case.

Even in prison, the rapists continue to rape, the drug users continue to use drugs, and the thieves continue to steal. Prison is not a deterrent either, it just shields society from it at a high cost.

What would be an effective deterrent? How about the torture of the criminals children? For some men, I think this would be a more effective deterrent than anything we could threaten them with.

Now I'm only running a thought experiment here, I'm not actually proposing this. For those of you who want to get hung up on the Constitutionality of this, it's not like the courts follow the Law of the Land today and the Constition can change. The Constition is not an issue in this intellectual exercise.

Now I thought "NO!" when I asked myself this. Even thought it would make an excellent deterrent for some criminals, I still say "NO!" I expect many of you will answer similarly.

This tells me that the whole "It's an effective deterrent" arguement for capital punishment does not have a valid logical foundation.

So what moral price will people pay for an ineffective deterrent?

I thank Vox and the O.C. for conflicting my once stable position on Capital Punishment.

Prediction: Protest to end as Homosexual Orgy

I'm half listening to Rush, busy at work at my day job. He's telling how a college theatrical club is going to re-enact the Abu Gahraib prisoner 'abuses' tonight as a protest.

I don't think I'm the only one that associates homosexuals and theatre. I think that there is a definite link.

Now what do you think a pile of naked homosexual men are going to do?

If any of them are moaning, it's not because they are being tortured, unless of course, Hans Blix happens to show up and play Miss England.

Help

As you can see my format is hosed.

I've received some help from DigitalCowboy and for that I thank him.

But I want to move my leftmost colum left so the main body can reside immediately to its right.

If anyone has any helpfull suggestions, please pass them on to me.

Thanks.

Why a Black Cat?

Black Cat, Onyx Feline
Unaware of your own rigor mortis
Is it you that brings the pain
Or do you travel in its wake?

Back arched high,
legs cramped straight,
A menacing pose, or
relentless torment?

Blacklight neon hairs
The protein about you fluoresces,
Rending yellows, aching blues,
Hung in space, frozen in time.
(Why is there no Crimson?)

Other debris, to broken to name.
All like dust in the tail of a comet.
Ebon Mouser, why is my eye drawn to you?
What secrets do you hold?

I've been busy at work and home. I miss the ability to express my thoughts here, but I have other commitments with big consequences if I neglect them.

If it wasn't for WND being my home page, I'd have missed this.

'Hack' was one of the few living heros that I have.

His passing is a loss to us all, especially our boys in military service. He was one of the few who cared about their welfare and had the contacts and following to better their lives and chances of survival.

Now back to my regularily scheduled emergency created by a totaly incompetent architect...