The Curse Of The Pussy Eating Vampire

The following short story I first sent to my Yahoo Group, Paganbitchslap. No, it's not a true story, though I couldn't resist trying to con my fellow group members into thinking it was. Just added to the fun, I guess. To this end, I used my own true real name as the name of the main character.

It's kind of rough, it's really just a first draft, one I have as yet to edit, yet which does need editing. Here it is in it's entirety, the way it was originally presented, typos and all. Hope you enjoy it.

The Curse Of The Pussy Eating Vampire

by

Patrick Kelley

It started with a loud series of knocks at my door, mind numbingly
loud, the kind that seem to go through your soul. Though the door
was locked and I was inside I could see her outside the door,
accompanied by a small number of individuals of indeterminate
appearrance. I hide to hide, but before I could execute this
strategy, there she was. I knew who she was, in her not quite
kneelength black, tight skirt with matching black top, black shoulder
length, wavy thick hair, medium complexion and dark brown eyes that
pierced through my soul as she sneered condescendingly and, nodding
her head in accentuation of each syllable, said in a gravelly voice
from the deepest pits of hell, carried by the north wind, -

"TAKE HER OUT TO EAT!"

I woke up in a sweat, chilled to the bone, and scared to death. It
was the kind of nightmare you have that seems real for minutes after
you wake up, and makes you afraid to go back to sleep. I looked at
the clock. It would only be three and a half hours before time to go
to work anyway, might as well stayed up. I fixed a pot of coffee,
drunk half of it, took a shower, drunk the other half, put on another
pot and, by the time I fixed and ate breakfast, I was over the
initial horror, though still transfixed by the reality of it.

I would think long and hard, I swore to myself, before invoking
Hecate for ANYTHING!

By the time I had been to work for a couple of hours, I was somewhat
at my old self, until I saw the reason I had invoked Hecate to begin
with. There she was, standing in the door of the store, winking and
smiling seductively, only because she knew it drove me batty. The
cutest little Goth chick in town.

How do you like my hair? she asked me. She had changed it from
purple to jet black, with brighjt red lipstick. She was dressed all
in black, with fishnet stockings. The perfect appearrance of a
vampire. I hit the cash button prematurely. whn she whirled around.

"It's, uhh, n-n-n-nice," I stammerred like an idiot.

The ritual worked, I realized. Or had it? Hecate in the dream had
been dressed more like a businesswoman, albeit one who had not
discarded her sense of style or sensuality. Raven was something else
all together. But what was it Hecate had said?

When she made it back up to the register to purchase her hanging
basket, I blurted out -

"I would like to take you out to eat".

My co-worker stiffled a laugh as he began stocking a nearby shelf.

Raven paid for her basket - which is to say, I hit the cash key - and
she said, with a winsome smile, " I'm just going to have to think
about that"

She made it to the door, then turned and said, "maybe later on this
month"

Strangely, she kind of laughed and went out the door.

Owen, my coworker, walked up to me and said, "you need some fucking
therapy, my friend," but he smiled and giggled as he sjhook his head.

I don't know what my thing is about Goth chicks. I'm not in the
least bit interested in becomming a part of this sub - culture, but
the women drive me to distraction. So who better to invoke, I
thought, than Hecate, the Underworld goddess who is the mother of The
Impussae, who are themselves spirit vampire - like creatures of the
Underworld, who enter the beds of men at night and drain their
energies through sexual seduction.

A number of weeks went by, and I didn't see Raven, and in facr began
to put even the horrifying dream of Hecate out of my mind. Then, one
night, about two and a half weeks later, came a resoundingly loud
knock at my door.

It was Melissa, a young lady recently moved from my apartmnent
building, along with my parents, who had recently entered her first
year of college at the University of Northern Kentucky. Me and her
parents had been fairly good friends, and so had the two of us in a
cordial sense, but I wondered what she was doing here now. She
seemed genuinely happy, and relieved, to see me. I invited her in
for some coffee, and she cheerilly agreed.

She began to bemoan her life at the University. "I never should have
let my parents talk me into taking those business courses. I hate
it."

Can't you change your major?" I asked.

Yeah, I probably will", she replied. I don't know what to yet"

I soon found out there was a point to her visit. She was desperate
to borrow twenty dollars, though she wouldn't tell me why, only that
she had takenm a week off fromn her courses, was visiting some
friends, and her parents didn't know about it. This didn't sit too
well with me, but she swore to me she would return next week, she
just needed the week off. She swore she didn't want the money for
anybody else, or for drugs, she just wanted it for emergency needs.
I didn't get it. But she was cute in - wait a minute - her black not
quite knee - length skirt, her matching black top, her dark brown
eyes, her shoulder length thick wavy dark hair. I want to take you
out to eat, I started to say. But, it came out -

"I want to eat you"

"What!"

"I want to take you out to eat", I quickly corrected myself

"NO, I want to eat your pussy is what you meant to say. Admit it. I
know you, Patrick Kelley," she insisted. "So, my good friend, my
parent's good friend, will give me twenty dollars. Tweny lousy
fucking dollars. Provided I let him kiss and lick and suck around on
my pussy."

Shje said this in such a prosecutorial masnner, I felt I had no
choice but to admit the awful truth.

"Yep, that's aboiut the size of it", I admitted.

To my surprise, she dropped her skirt, and then down came the panties.

"Do you understand now why I need some money?", she demanded. "It's
a few ddays early, and I have to have some money. So if you want to
eat it, eat away."

I saw the spots of blood. She was on her period. Her panties in
fact were drenched with a great big old spot of dried blood and
mucous. She needed something bad or it looked as though she would
soon be trailing blood all the way down the hall and out onto the
street.

Then she began to change from an angry _expression to one of what I
can only call a dare. She was breathing heavily. She was staring at
me, intensely. Her voice was gravelly. Gutteral. Hellish, even.

I need the money, so eat me, motherfucker.," she demanded.

"EAT MY FUCKING PUSSY, GODDAMN YOU, EAT MY FUCKING PUSSY!"

She was shouting now, and I knew she could be heard all over my
building. Suddenly, she lowered herself on the floor. Did I really
want to do this, after all? She seemed to be gushing.

I lowered my mouth to just inside her left knee, and began to slowly
suck there, moving upwards as I did so, slowly, slowly. She was
moaning, groaning, until finally I made my way with my mouth up to
her pussy. She screamed as I began the great work with my mouth
grinding and my tongue flickering against the entrance. She was
crying as her body heaved and trembled.

Now, to be sure, it was a ghastly taste, the hot blood and mucous and
female juices all mixed together in a salty, bitter explosion of
slimey sweltering rancid taste and smell. But once I started I could
not stop. She was pulling wildly at my hair as she thrusted her
abdomen upwards in a uncontrollable fury of desire. I spread her
blood soaked pussy lips apart as I thrusteed my tongue deeper and
deeper. Soon, she was pulling my body upwards with a strength which
I can only describe as maniacal. She was now ripping at my pants.

Soon, my hard, throbbing dick was plungin deeply into her, and I
began to fuck her harder and harder, until I finally exploded inside
her bloody pussy.

I know she told me she loved me a hundred times, or pretty close to
it, by the time we both went to sleep that night in each other's
arms, right there curled up on the floor, on a pillow, covvered in
nothing but two sheets, a light blanket, and I would suppose about a
half gallon of blood and mucous.

She remained with me for a couple of days. I didn't do it again, and
strangely, she didn't seem to mind that much, though she did seem a
little dissappointed. But when I came home from work, there she
would be, the blood problem now solved with the Kotex i had
supplied. She sucked my dick the night before she informed me she
would have to return to school.

I discovered she didn't return to school at all, but in fact dropped
out, and had moved in with some friends. She had a boyfriend who
supposedlly was in a band, and otherwise performed a variety of jobs,
going seemingly from first one to the other. I didn't care. I put
her, and the entire situation, out of my mind.

A couple of months later, I was sitting at the park down by the Ohio
River. I had just quit my job, and didn't know what I was going to
do about finding another one, but I tried not to worry too much about
that, though I was now a couple of months behind in my rent, and was
trying to avoid the landlord until I could come up with enough to
make at least a respectable partial payment. There at the park was
Raven. Her hair was now green. It was also spiked. I didn't care.
It was nice to tak to her though, as I was in a blue mood. We talked
for awhile, then she asked me to walk her to the club on Scott street
where she hung oput on Tuesday nights. It was getting dark, so I
thought, well, why not?

We made it to the club, I walked in with her. There were a handful
of other Goths, but she seemed to avoid going to them right away.
Have a drink with me, she asked.

"You buying?", I asked.

"Sure", she said. ""Two Heinekens, Charlie", she said to the
bartender.

As we sat and sipped and listened to first one tune after another by
Megadeth, Alice In Chains, etc. a couple of the Goths came up and
started talking to Raven, pretty much ignoring me, which suited me
fine. Suddenly, the third one called for the others, "Let's go"

She was all decked out in vampire like apparrel and make-up. It was
Melissa. When she saw me, she ambled over just as the other two were
starting to leave. She looked at Raven, then at me, then back to
her, and said,

"You better watch him raven, he as a big appetite, but he likes to
eat and run"

They left then, and Raven just looked at me with the oddest look you
could imagine.

"Oh, really now", was all she said.

Later that night, after I made it up to the apartment as quietly as I
could in the dead of the night, I climbed into bed, and when I
finally dozed off in a state of near exhaustion, I could have swore I
heard a distinct, maniacal female laughter, as though from some
shadowy underworld.

Trolling For Dollars

I had high hopes recently of being a regular contributor to Daily Kos, a leftist type political blog, but of course, there are a number of problems with that, this being for themost part the idea of keeping my mouth shut concerning those issues where i am in stark disagreement with the consensus opinion. Very often, I am aware that I might come across as more of a right leaning person than not. Well, in some situations I am.

Take for example, my unabashedly open support for gun rights. Or my belief in the death penalty. My opposition to anything approaching amnesty for illegal aliens, and my insistence on the need for strong border security and strengthening and enforcement of immigration laws. My advocacy of a strong military and national defense, my yearning for a sound environmental policy that allows for drilling in ANWAR and the deveolpment of nuclear energy, in addition to urgings for more refineries.

There are a few other examples, but I’m sure by now you get the point well enough you might be wondering, why the hell do you want to get on Daily Kos? And to tell you the truth, I’m not sure of the answer to that. Except that I like to think that I’m a proponent and supporter of sound, workable, common sense progressive liberal policies, in areas where they will really work and make a difference. Some people have even accussed me of being socialist in regards to some of my beliefs. And, in those instances,they would be right.

And, some people would accuse me of even being a troll. And, in a way, I guess they would be right here as well. A troll, according to most people, is somebody that likes to be a disruptive influence, a person who likes to stir the shit and watch the stink gather, I guess. Trolls, I have read, have no real life, and so they like to live vicariously by disrupting and abusing those who do, sometimes in cowardly ways. They like to post on sites in annoying ways, and then sit back and chuckle as they count, and read,the responses. They will defend themselves by saying it is all a joke, all for fun, but in reality, they are small, petty people that have nothing better to do than conduct abuse on their betters, those who have true values and beliefs, or those who are just innocent bystanders in life, at times.

To some extent they may be right. But in other cases, I wonder. Really, I have to wonder, specialy when I go onto Daily Kos and read about troll wars, and of one persons intention to leave the site altogether is the complaints don’t stop. This is a person I assume ot be a moderator on the site, and he is tired of the complaints from others. Evidently, he is having the same degree of suspicion and skepticism as am I. I have as yet to follow up on the complaints to enoughof a degree to understand what the problem is, but I have a strong idea I can offer a very valid definitionof what a troll really is.

If you do not agree with me, you are a troll.

If you erspond to my posts in a sarcastci way, you are a troll.

If you point out an aspect of an issue in such a way that I can offer no valid rebuttal to speak of, you are a troll.

If you make me look foolish, you are not a good person, therefore you must be a troll.

I could go on but I think I’m pretty clear. Some people can brook no disagreement, and dislike intensely being confronted with it, particularly when they have set themselves up as being the arbitrators and deciders of all that is wise and good, and right. A troll, then, is a shatterer of illussions. A ridiculer of foolishness. A slanderer of ego. A destroyer of delusion.

Trolls, in fact, can add to the discussion when it has become mundane and boring, and predictable. On another site, I noted a complaint about a troll, who was accussed, for no valid reason I can see, of being homophobic, and racist, and ignorant, etc. Without going into too much detail, I was that troll. The accussations were groundless, of course, but that is beside the point.

This was a person who is comfortable in his own belef systems, and can stand for nothing to challenge him on anything. If soconfronted with such a challenge, the person then, of course, is a troll, because of all these imagined qualities of which he is being acussed. Interesting.

I lurked for some time, and soon it became obvious, in this case, the kind of mentality, I was dealing with. This person desird nothin moe than to be around kindred spirits, with whom he could chew the fat about the things with which they all were in agreement, and engage in small talk on irrelevant matters, and hopefully be able to leave at the end of the day with the feeling that he was well loved and admired. The sad truth is, at the end of the day he was probably not given a second thought, but that illussion is probably one of the strongest held most dear by those ever on the lookout for the evil internet troll.

Truthfully, I care for one thing, and that is money and career, when it comes to the internet. I am under no illussions that I will meet the love of my life, or a large or even small circle of close, intimate friends. Those all would be nice, to be sure, and I am sure theere are many people out there I would be happy to have such relationshops with. But to all practical purposes, I hope for one day to be able to come onto this blog and find that I have some ads that are in some way making me a respectable amount of money. This of course means that I will have buildt my readership up to such a degree that, one day, I might land a writing contract. A novel, perhaps. Somewhere down the line, to be sure, but possible.

In the meantime, no doubt I will have stepped on a few toes, maybe more than a few. If that qualifies me for trolldom, so be it. I would rather be a rich troll than a poor, sweet, blind little lamb.

Me And My Cat

I just found out for a fact this morning, that cats are smarter than they appear to be. They are just too stubborn and willful for their own good. This is the case with my cat anyway.

My cat has seizures, which are infrequent,usually averaging about once a month, and of generally short duration, probably under a minute. Due to this, and the fact that she sleeps in my bed, I am constantly trying to get her, with little success, to confine herself on an area of the bed on which i have gathered some old shirts and blankets. Most of the time, she just growls and hisses at me, and gets madder and madder, the more I try to convince her, verbally and physically, to lay on this area.

This morning, when my clock went off, she was insistent upon waking me up, but it was hard, as always, forme to roust myself. She did thismorning what she usually does. She wished her tail across my face. She pounced on the door, raking her claws down it. back up in the bed, she punches at the doorknob with one paw. She tried to sit her ass on my face, and found out quick that was not going to happen, so she continued her assault in other ways. She licked my eyelids. She gnawed at my arm, at my hand, at my fingers. The only thing she didn’t do to me she couldn’t, because my arm pits this morning were not availaible for her to gnaw on. That usually does the trick when nothing else will.

I forgot how logn this went on, but I finally gatheed enough energy to raise up, whereupon I told her that if she wanted something to eat, she would have to first get on her bed. I meant of course the pile of blankets and shirts that I had arranged for her to sleep on with so little success. When I told her this this morning, I ponted at them.

Immediately, she got on them, and lowered herself down on them upon my further urgings, all the time meeting my gaze as she curled up and lay there. That did it. How could I not reward that? I got up and fed her.

But I guarantee tonight she will be just as stubborn, just as willful, when I try to get her to lay on them tonight. What the hell. She’s a cat, right? She’s smart as a whip, and I love her dearly, but it’s just the animals nature to be independant minded and self assertive. Frankly, I don’t think I would have it any other way.

Love Will Find A Way

Well, my aunt has finally left for Florida, there to meet the man of her dreams. She’ll be gone for two weeks to stay with this man who lives in gator country, somewhere in the Florida Eveglades, near Lake Okeechobee(sp?). I honestly hope it works out for her, but as this man is quite a few years her senior, I think she is walking into problems that will be more than she can handle. Her first husband, also an older man, sufferred from advance dementia, and I honestly believe her in-laws think she will be perfect to deal with their father, who I fear is just now exhibiting the beginnign stages of this curse. Two weeks will probably not be nowhere near long enough for this to be clear, but when she returns to stay as I rather fear she will, then by the time five years goes by, if that, then there she will have it. An old man in a trailor in the Everglades, sufferring from dementia, surrounded by alligators. What more could you ask for? At least if it gets to be too much for her, she’s got thousands of fall guys to pin the blame on, should he decide one day to go out and take a walk “without her knowledege”, say for example, “while she was sleeping”.

She thinks he has money, but insists this isn’t the reson she is going to meet him. Well, okay, the point is, she is going to Florida, from Kentucky, to do just that-meet him. In the meantime, she seems assurred that his two daughters will be coming around, to look after him, these two daughters that have fixed the two of them up, will keep coming around just like they have been doing.

I hope he does have a lot od money, and I hope she latches on to a good part of it. I guess if she stays with him for so long she would be entitled to a third of it. I ain’t believing for one minute the story she’s been told by the daughters that, despte all his wealth, they want none of his money. I’m tempted to say that if she gets taken and ends up with nothing to show for it she will be getting what she deserves, but on the other hand, the mans own daughters are culpable in these shenanignas, so if she does get it all, they would be getting what they deserve even more. Besides, she’s my aunt, so, despite her faults, I hope it works out as well or even better than she seems so sure it will.

On the other hand, I’ve tried to find out information about him, and so far the only thing I know is he is a German immigrant. Not old enough to be a Nazi, or even a regular soldier of the German army. He could have been a member of the Hitler youth. But, so was the Pope. My aunt probably wouldn’t give a shit anyway, if he turned out to be Joseph Mengele, she would say, well what more could I ask for than a brilliant doctor?

American Idol

I watched a bit of American Idol the night before last, in fact, I hate to admit it, I sat through the entire showing. After all, curiosity gets the better of even the most sane among us, from time to time. Okay, I understand the initial attraction, for some, and the general idea of the show is not bad.

Past that, of course, it sucks. The music sucks, especially. The singers suck. Sure, they are good singers, dancers, and entertainers. But what the hell? This is schmaltz, people. Can you imagine any of these people competing with somebody of the calibre of Springsteen, or Dylan, or Bono? No, and I promise you, neither can they.

And neither, obvioulsly, can Simon, the acerbic judge who is really the overall star of the show, whose acidic wit has brought many a contestant to the verge of tears, and beyond. Yet, he always manages to somehow chuck his integrity during the last few episodes. What the hell else can he do besides make the most of a mediocre at best situation?

Paula Abdul? This dumb bitch would probably prefer to be in a back storage room somewhere pulling a train on all the male contestants. By the same token, she is perfect here, as she is an acute representative of this brand of mind numbing entertainment.

I don’t know who the hell Randy is. I don’t think he knows what he is doing there, either. He has an affinity for the term dog, which sure as hell fits with the overall scope of this shows talent.

Ryan Seacrest is an affable enough host for the show, and is the subject of constant talk show rumors pertaining to his purported sexual preferences. Here again, why is this a matter of speculation? Why would anybody care? But then again, why would anybody care about this show?

Well, evidently they do. Taylor Hicks, last nights winner of American Idol, is just the latest in a seies of third rate at best talents to win the final vote tally, accumulating more votes, I would wager, than did George W. Bush in his 2004 election win over John Kerry. Hicks, it is rumored, also got more votes than did Kerry.

The final showdown between the two remaining contestants was perpetrated by the performance by each contestant of three forgettable, amateur renditions of such songs as Levon, Somewhere Over The Rainbow, and other offerrings that were borderline felony mischief. Then, the unpardonable insult to world culture occurred at the end. Both contestants sang a song that was an original song written especially for each of them. These were, if you dare to believe it, singles, which will be released upon the airwaves soon. They are meant to be hit songs, mind you, and I have no doubt they will be.

I didn’t watch the finale last night, thought I did tune in at the end to see who won. Taylor Hicks won. I don’t recall the name of the saccharrine sweet female performer he defeated. I am ashamed of myself that I remember his name.

It’s no wonder the fucking world hates us.

An Inconvenient Reality Called Life

An Inconvenient Truth, Al Gores new movie that deals with the dangers of global warming, seems to have conveniently ignored an inconvenient problem with its major thesis, and that is the very real aspect of the problem of overpopuation. Not having seen the film, of course, I can only assume this to be the case, as so far all I have heard commented on is the need for alternative energies and the very real dangers of CO2 emissions from industrialized and developing third world countries.

And it is very true of course that all these problems desperately need to be addressed in a comprehensive way. Yet, if the now politically unpopular notion of dealing with overpopulaton is not addressed, it will all be a useless endeavor.

This is the way nature works. The more peole that are born, the more land they will need. The more land they acquire, the more as a result will be the diminution of the rain forrests. The more the rain forrests diminish, the less cabon dioxide is recycled into oxygen, yet the more carbon dioxide is recycled into the atmosphere, which is now accumulating in overabundant quantities.

In time, it is possible this overaccumulation might well begin depositng itself on the polar caps, an alltogether different problem as a lot of this will eventually begin to enter into the nations oceans and seas. This could cause incalculable harm to the oceans eco-system.

From this point on, any reductions in CO2 emissions will be incidental and actually negligible. Suddenly, it will take far less of these emissions to do the same amount of damage to the environment, or more. Back to square one.

Conclusion-this problem of overpopulation has to be dealt with. If we do not deal with it, Mother Nature, in her coldly practical way, will. In fact, is, but to a small, small degree in comparison to what is coming some years down the pike. What it all boils down to is a harsh but firm choice. Billions of people have to be prevented some way from being born. Or, billions of people will suffer needlessly, but inevitably.

I know what my choice is, and what it well should be. The ony thing that is left to answer, is how?

When Things Cant Get Any Worse

It’s hard to really imagine what would have happenned if Al Gore had been President during the 9/11 attacks. Assumming they happenned as they did under Bush, an event of that magnitude would have by its’nature necessitated some kind of response, and a quick and decisive one. Otherwise, that along with other factors would have insured that, given the degree of closeness in the 2000 election, George W. Bush would have made a comeback in 2004, would have been decisively elected, and then, of course, we would be faced with the prospect of a George W. Bush re-election campaign in 2008.

But what could Gore have done, really? I have no doubt he would have beaten the diplomacy door to death, and may have dropped a few bombs, notably on Kandahar, before reaching some kind of UN brokered agreement which would have necessitated Osama Bin Laden being “invited to peacefully leave” Afghanistan. This of course would have been unsatisfactory.

But there was obvioulsy no chance the Taliban was going to turn Bin Laden over, or betray him in any manner. Therefore, Gore would have had little choice but to invade, with probably similar results as today as regards the current Afghan situation.

On the other hand, Bin Laden, if there had been an invasion and war, may have been apprehended or killed. One thing for certain, the Iraqi adventure would never have transpired. This means, of course, Saddam would still be in power, would still be a thorn in our sides, but such is life.

We would still doubtless, at least up until 2004, been experiencing ever growing record budget surpluses, despte the tech stock bubble bust, which anybody with a shred of common sense knew was inevitable. But this would have been tweaked, and dealt with, maybe even to some degree by a series of tax cuts. But I have no doubt, however it turned out, we would not be experiencing the record deficits we are currently undergoing.

Illegal immigration would have been a continually on-going problem, there would be nothing in the way of any kind of medical health care reform, and the Repulican controlled Congress would have fought Gore tooth and nail resisting any kind of comprehensive energy and environmental reforms, and they would have done so successfully.

But the one thing that would have killed Gore in 2004, would have been Al Gore. You see, in the election of the year 2000, Al Gore was cheated out of his destiny-the destiny to become a one term president. In 2004, people would have been dreamily heralding Bush with the same kind of whimsical “if only we would have elected him in 2000” attitude that people to a large degree are currently considering Gore. And he would have won.

The result-we would eventually be going through pretty much the same thing we are going through now, only four years later, and I have no doubt for four years longer. The prospect of a two term Bush presidency extending until January of 2013, while a sobering thought, would have been an inevitability. Gores one claim to success may have been his handling of the Afghan conflcit.

Only there may never have been one, because-there may never have been a terrorist attack during a Gore presidency. Gore and his administration may well have acted on the intelligence that New York Times reporter Judith Miller is now insisting the Bush Administration had access to some weeks before the attack. Bus and his people seem to ave ignored any such warnings. Some would assert tey did so purposefully, with the intention of using the event to their own political advantage. It would be easy after all, this early in the first Bush term, to blame it on the lax, all too casual culture of the Clinton Administration. Which they certainly did do, actually.

Whether Bush and/or his top people did this purposefully, or whether they simply didn’t have enough information as to when and where the attacks would transpire to warrant taking any action that mght have resulted in a panick, to say nothing of accussations of political gamesmanship, we may never know. And of course it is also impossible to know whether Gores people would have prevented the attacks, or how they would have responded had they occurred.

If Gore had prevented the attacks, of course, he would have gotten little or no credit for ahving prevented such a large scae attack, as the psychological impact just would not have been a fraction as great. It would not show up as so much as a blip on the 2004 electoral radar screen.

Now, of course, Gore insists he has no intention of running for the presidency in 2008. If true, too bad. Because I have no doubt that, ifthe curent situation continues, with both parties, the way it currently is going, Gore is the one Democrat who could, conceivably not only win the Presidency, but bring with him sufficient coattails to control both houses of Congress, probably by a substantail margin.

Clinton, were she to win, could not accomplsh this, not at this stage. Neither could Biden, Feingold, O’Bama, Kerry, Edwards, Clark, Richardson, or any of the other current Democratic hopefuls. Gore could. He could also, given his degree of very real if unrecognized passion for the burning issues of the day, conceivably go down in history as one of the great ones.

You see, there is a reason Bill Clinton chose Al Gore to be his running mate that fateful day in 1992. Al Gore made Bill Clinton respectable. Al Gore made Bill Clinton electable. And the Republican party never forgave Al Gore for that, and have spent every waking moment since that day in an effort to belittle him, to ridicule him-dehumanize him, even.

Yes, Al Gore is the best potential possible Democratic candidate for president of the Untied States. The only thing he needs to have is the unmitigated desire to run, and the self-confidence to let his real, human side show in the course of a campaign, and the common sense to not only not listen to the wrong advisors, but to curtly show them the door.

Pompous Circumstances

Here’s a story for all you education reform advocates, one that should really give you pause. A high school in Ohio, will not be graduating 16 students this year. The reason? Despite being given an entire school year to do so, these sixteen students did not produce a required essay, between eight and ten pages in length, on a subject of their choice, that required them to shadow one source. Let that sink in for a minute. It could have been on any subject. It could have been about popular culture. It could have been about social issues. It could have been about cooking. It could have been about any damn thing they wanted it to be on. And they had a whole fucking year to do it.

But, they didn’t, and of course, as you might have expected, some parents are up in arm, and are demanding the requirements be non-binding. The school staff evidently has a collective spine, as well as balls, because they are refusing, as they put it, to lower their standards.

This is really incredible. I mean, how fucking hard can it be? It’s not like they were being requested to produce a volume on the level of a college graduate student thesis. This is more on the fucking level of “What I Did For My Summer Vacation.”

It’s no fucking wonder, to me, that American kids are falling steadily behind students of other nations in Math and Science. I give it ten years, and American students are going to be significantly behind kids from Germany, India, Iran, and China-

IN MOTHRFUCKING ENGLISH!!!

Living In A Bubble

The state legislature of Ohio has actually done something notably good, for once. Even more remarkable, they accomplished this feat on a bipartisan bais, passing by a significant margin a bill that will outlaw preatory lending practices. This seems to be targeted mostly at home mortgage lenders, but it would seem as though the implications of the bill might well be much broader than this. Governor Bob Taft has assurred the legislature he will probably sign the bill into law after an obligatory review process.

This is really a first. In fact, the total number of votes against the bill in the Ohio State Senate were three. Industry arguments and oppossition to the bill were weak, and amounted to warnings that some couples with bad credit histories might be adversely affected (though I would submit not as adversely affected were they to take out a mortgage with one of these sharks had the bill not been signed).

I hope this is the opening salvo in what will become a nationwide trend, one that will hopefully extend far beyond this sector of the economy, and on to the heinous predatory practices of loan companies, banks, and credit lenders nationwide.

For example, credit card companies should never be allowed to up their interest rates to more than ten percent more than the rate at which the consumer originally signed on at, and the possibility of this raise in rates should be explicitly spelled out in

BIG BOLD LETTERS THAT STAND OUT LIKE THIS AT THE TOP OF THE FUCKING AGREEMENT!

Also, interest charges on loans made to college students should never, under any circumstances, be allowed to rise up into double digit territory. This would go a long way toward solving a lot of problems, for example, the high cost of health care, which to a large extent is a result of these predatory loanng practices. Yet, credit card companies, and their supporters in Congress and state legislatures, are ever resistant to laws designed to curb these practices on college campuses.

For the time being, this law targeted at predatory home mortgage lending, is a good first step, though it is applicable to Ohio law and domain only. Still, it seems to have come just int he nick of time, a time when the housing bubble seems to have finally reached it's zenith, in a lot of areas of the country.

In fact, there are now ever increasing instances of homes that have set opn the market unsold, for weeks, even months. No one is selling. Because more and more, nobody is buying-not at these rates.

And so, it looks as though George Bush's credit card economy might well be on the way to seeing one of the mainstays of it's strength dwindling. The much touted housing market. No, the bubble hasn't exactly burst. But the air is leaking out, slowly, perhaps, but definitely.

The Fifth Nail

I was recently reminded on another Blog, by the name of Hillbilly White Trash, of the presence of pedophilia sites on the Internet. I informed the site owner, Lemuel, that the archives of one such blog, known as the Fifth nail, might well still be availiable. Upon checking, he found out that, indeed, they were.

The Fifth Nail happens to be the blog kept by the monster Joseph Duncan, who kidnapped the two little Groene children from their home in Idaho. he ended up murdering the young boy, while thankfully the young girl, Shasta, was recovered alive and relatively unharmed, though she had been subjected to ongong sexual abuse durng her captivity. Additionally, of course, Duncan murdered their motehr, step-father, and an older brother during the course of abducting her.

It was a horrible story, and when I found out about the presence of the Fifth Nail on Blogger, of course I checked it out. It was amussing in a weird sort of way to see the hundreds of dreogatory remarks lodged against Duncan in the comments section of his blog, which had all been posted after the fact of his capture. I mean, really, he’s in jail now. He’s not going to be reading them, so why bother?

But the remarkable thing about this blog was that the last post seems to have been written while he was on the run from the law, and wanted for thus violating the termsof his parole. If I read it right. All of which begs the question. Where was Joseph Duncan when he posted tis last blog item? Was he perhaps in that small town in Idaho? Possibly availing himslef of the services of the computers at the library? Is that perhaps where he initialymade contact with one or both of the Groene children? Had he perhaps inadverdantly, fromthis contact, perhaps even by back tracking over their computer usage, soehwoe learned their names, and eventually their addresses?

Or did his familiarity with them precede this? The childrens biological father is a biker, and so was Duncan, who in fact had asociates among a Chrisitan oriented bikers club in the stae of Washington.

Or, was it no more than a matter of hwat it has been alleged, that, while on the run, he happenned across the childrens home, spying htem in the yard from a distance, from off the interstae, all a matterof being in the right place, for his needs, at tehright time.

I recommend your visit to these archives only if you have the stomach, as it is a stomach churning experience, but, alas, an eye opening one as well. You will find the Fifth Nail here.

In addition, I also recommend a visit to Lemuels blog, Hillbilly White Trash. He’s a politcal conservative, a sincerely genuine one, who also has a liking for science fiction, guns, Celtic music, and quality food and beer, as well as what he refers to as the Ashville (North Carolina) vortex. Even if you don’t agree with his politics, his blog is enjoyable, and well worth a visit, even if you are not actually qualified, as I am probably not, to be a member of what he calls “The Hillbilly Eco-System.”

Neverthelss, even if you can't realy live here, it's a cool place to visit.

Paul McCartney Heather Mills Beatles Theme Song Poll

Okay, I promised I wasn’t going to engage in any little trite inclusions of Beatles tunes lyrics in any post discussing the breakup of Paul McCartney to his wife, Heather “Stumpy” Mills, but on the other hand, I Should Have Known Better (ouch) than to think I could avoid it all together. So, just in the spirit of good clean fun, the question has to be asked-what Beatles song best describes the way MacCartney must be feeling right now.

The Fool On The Hill

Ticket To Ride

Oh Darling

When I’m Sixty Four

Don’t Bother Me

Wah-Wah

I Want You (She’s So Heavy)

Yer Blues

Photograph

Long Long Long

Everybody’s Got Something To Hide Except For Me And My Monkey

Sexey Sadie

A whole albums worth of material, that should probably be compiled and sent to our beleaguered former mop top, with which he can console and torture himself, with Ringo even chiming in. After all, his investment in this sham of a marriage was all of- what, four years, for the low, low price of, probably, once the dust has settled and the papers are signed, an estimated 500 million dollars.

You were right the first time, Paul. Money can’t buy you love. (Oh, what the fuck)

24-An Explosive Finale

The coming season finale of 24 is promising as usual a big surprise, so of course as a 24 fanatic and mystery addict, I’m geared up,and keyed up, for what could be hopefully the best season ending ever. So far, the show has not dissappointed, despite several incidents of dubious and unlikely circumstances.

Okay, for one thing, Russian military submarines are unlikely to be docked at US ports. For another, how exactly is it that civilians make their way onto diplomatic flights in a city that has beenunder martial law for the course of eight hours? More importantly, how is it that an ex-Preisdent, receiving information pertaining to the illegal acts of the curent President, trust said current presidents wife to keep him abreast of events, when he should have every reason to be aware that said First Lady is a few cards shy of a full deck.

Okay, despte all these obvious flaws, the show is gripping, and I still have hopes that First Lady Martha Logan will turn out to have been in the throes of Multiple Personality Disorder when she first turned to David palmer, and then betrayed him, leading to his assassination. For now, it looks like her and shining armor encrusted knight Aaron Pierce will somehow manage to escape with their lives intact within minutes of the shows season ending.

That ending wil come, I predict, when Jack Bauer has President Logan cornered, asserting that he will face justice. Jack may well actually assassinate the President, knowing full well this will put him in the historical company of John Wilkes Booth and Lee Harvery Oswald, when suddenly the ending will come. A missile fired from the Russian sub docked at the LA port, recently taken over by Russian (Chechnyan?) terrorists, will hit the Presidential compound, within a minute after jack gets word that one missile was fired before the terrorists could be halted. Logan will be killed by the blast, as will all or most of everybody else within the LA based Presidential retreat. We will have to wait until next season, in January, to learn that jack Bauer has survivd the blast-or will he?

Yes, the show has been renewed for next season, in fact it has been tentatively renewed for three seasons. Yet, there is no word for certain whether Keifer Sutherland will return to the starring role of the drama, and he certainly isnt guaranteed to be kept on forthee seasons.

So, assumming I am right, what clued me in on this scenario? Well, when Jack discovered the Russian sub was being targeted for cpature by the terrorists, the first thing he asked was whether the missiles on the sub were nuclear. He was informed that they were not. Now, thought I, this is quite odd. Why would the writers not have the sub armed with nuclear missiles, instead of ones which were yet deadly enough, Bauer was informd, to take out several city blocks?

Answer-well, a nuked LA would be just a little too much, even for a television show such as 24. So therefore, obviously at least one missile is going to be sucessfully launced, which means-ergo, the Presidential retreat. Goodbye, President Logan, you were fun while you lasted. Great villain. The shows writers sure as hell had me fooled.

Prison Break Season Finale-A Captivated Audience

The season finale of Prison Break sure as hell lived up to the hype, and then some. Maybe, in fact, a little too much. Talk about intense, I bet I approached close to a half pack of cigarrettes during just that hour, which should actually have been extended to two.

And one of my predictions actually came true. The evil female Vice-President engineered the assassination of the president, therefore becoming the “46^th President of The Untied States”.

What happenned to Theodore “T-Bag” Bagwell was gripping as well. Having handcuffed himself to Michael, in order to insue he wasn’t betrayed by John Abruzzi (Peter Stormare), the Maffia boss, (who he knew wanted revenge for the cutting of this throat by T-Bag in an earlier episode) ended up overplaying his hand, and loosing it, to the ax wielding John. T-Bag was left by the others howling pitifully in a barn, his severed left hand beside his face, as he howled in pain and shock.

Such is the acting skills of Robert Knepper that you couldn’t help but feeling sympathy for the character. I had to remind myself that this man was supposed to be in prison for the rest of his life for a series of rape/murders of teenage victims,and during the course of the show had murdered a guard during a prison riot that he instigated, after the guard discovered, along with T-Bag, the tunnel Michael had uncovered as a part of his planned escpae route. He had originally flung the guard into Michaels cell with the intention of raping him. And, so brutal had been his treatment of his former cell-mate that the poor guy ended up hanging himself with his own bed-sheets.

But this isn’t a show about nice people. Even Michael Scoffield (Wentworth Miller), the main character, can be cold and calculating. Once he kept his word to “Tweener”, that he would repay the debt owed him by allowing him to escape, he told him he was then on his own. (Because Tweener, under severe duress, had betrayed the plan to the Chief Prison guard, the cat murdering thug Brad Bellick).

Ironically, Tweener seems to have been the only one to make a clean getaway by crawling inside a horse trailor stopped at a road construction site. Of course, there is Haywire, the insane inmate who muscled in on the escape at the last minute, appearing in the tunnel (having earlier figured out what Michaels tattoos were actually for-diagrams of the prison he had earlier helped design) and threatening to set off an alarm he had hooked up. When he refused to ditch his white suit upon their escape, because he wore nothing under them, they tricked him into going to look for a key in a barn, whereupon John produced the key from under the matt of the car that had been left for them. They then abandoned him. The last he was seen, Haywire,who had stolen a bicycle from a young girl, was going merrilly down the road, pedalling with his arms held high in the air, in his white prison issued clothes and a bicycle helmet.

Unfortunately, the gang didn’t make it to the spot where Johns Mafia associates had a plane waiting to take only three of the prisoners, unbeknownst to the others. This was due in part to the aforementioned handcuffing of T-Bag to Michael, which held up their progress considerably. By the time the remaining five-Michael, Lincoln (Dominic Purcell), John, Sucre, and C-Note-made it to the plane, they were just in time to see it going off, as they waved helplessly for it to come back, Bellick and his guards right behind them. Thus, there was only one other option.

“What are we gong to do?”, one of the escapees asked Michael.

“We’re going to run”, he answered.

And so they did, as the five of them ran with the guards in hot pursuit, a disconcerting distance behind, lights flashing and dogs howling. Meanwhile, T-Bag, clutching his severed hand, with the stump of his left arm covered to stop the flow of blood, was also seen runing in a different area.

Next season promises to be just as gripping. The cons will spend the entire season avoiding capture, while Lincolns lawyer and ex-girlfriend, Veronica Donovan, tries to prove the Vice-President set Lincoln up to take the fall for the murder of her brother-who in the end she discovered was, indeed, still alive, and holed up in a small town in Montana.

Meanwhile, she knows yet another secret of which Michael and Lincoln are yet unaware. John has betrayed them, intending to extract from her, or from them, one way or another, the whereabouts of the informer Fibbonacci, who was responsible for his own prison sentence.

Although it’s too early yet to make predictions, I am hopeful that T-Bag will make good his escape, as he is too good a character to not be a factor. It could be that he is initially captured by Bellick, who then forms a bond with him based on the information that the old con (who died as a result of a fight with Bellick when the latter discovered, thanks to Tweener, the espcape tunnel under the floor of the guard shack the prison work gang were repairing, yet who managed to temporarily incapacitate and bound and gag Bellick inside the tunnel ) had told of five million dollars that he, in his other identity as famed skyjacker D.B. Cooper, had hidden under a silo.

Otherwise, the word is already out that next season will be the last for the show, at the end of which three of the cons will die, two in the next to the last episode, one in the last. Probably in at least one case this will be due to the hunt for the hidden five million, which will doubtless be split up between the remaining five. It would be too easy to think it is obvious which cons will die and which will live. With this show, nothing is certain, one of the best aspects of it.

I just wish more shows could be as good as this one. On the other hand, maybe it’s just as well, my heart can only take so many adrenaline rushes in one weeks time.

The Crossfires Of The Culture Wars

Could the DaVinci Code possibly be that bad a movie, under the direction of Ron Howard. Okay, so the man that brought us “Cinderella Man”, “A Beautiful Mind” and “Apollo 13” has to have a flop every now and then, but shit, Opie Taylor would even make a better movie than this.

Or is it really that bad? It has been criticized as being “too wordy”, by both critics and audiences. Sounds to me like, maybe, cerebral, perhaps? But wouldn’t that describe “A Beautiful Mind”? Of course, to be fair, that movie was never touted as a blood durdling, action packed thriller, exactly. But could DaVinci really be that dull?

Howard has been described by former associates as a “literalist”. When filming Apollo 13, he reportedly insisted that it seem exactly like it would have appearred when the real Apollo 13 blasted off, reminding the crew that this was space flight at a primitve stage. Well, that makes nothing to me but sense. He was reenacting history, after all, dramaticized for sure, but certainly not Captain Piccards Enterprise.

Now, I’m not insinuating that critics, or more precisely the papers that publish them, are succumbing to pressure from the Roman Catholic Church and Opus Dei to present this movie in a less than stellar light, though they have certainly voiced many objections to the subject matter of the film.

I am wondering, nevertheless, if they aren’t subjecting themselves to a bit of subtle internal wariness, and giving in to it. After all, the media has to a large degree been accussed of engaging in various wars on Chrisitanity, and Christmas, and Easter, and Christians in general, for years now. Not that they actually started the war. No, to a great extent that war has been fought out between such varied interest groups as the ACLU, AU, Focus On The Family, and other directly concerned parties. Who actually instigated the war, the party that drew first blood, isnt exactly clear yet to me, but the media has, for the most part, been caught in the crossfires, and have sufferred collateral damage. Sure, a number of media opinion columnists and analysts took upthe challenge, in some cases on the side of the onward Christian soldiers. Sometimes against them. In a lot of cases, they have been in denial of the implications of the conflict.

In almost all cases, they seem now to be sufferring from a marked case of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. In a great lot of these cases, reaction to thismovie might be one symptom of this condition.

Conjugal Lewdness

The Christian conservative views concerning abortion, marriage, and birth control are really nothing new. Going back to 1728, no less a personnage than the author Daniel DaFoe, author of the novel Robinson Cruesoe, authored a tract entitled "Conjugal Lewdness: or, Matrimonial Whoredom", which was a treatise warning about the scandalous state of marriage in his day. He later changed the name, at the suggestion of is editors, to "A Treatise Concerning The Use And Abuse Of The Marriage Bed". In the course of this book, he told of a young woan who turned to a neighbor for aid in preventing childbirth. The woman was aghast at what she considered the evil thing the woman was tryingto involve her in, which she assummed to be the seeking of an aborton. But the young married woman responded that no, it wasn’t an abortion she needed, she desired to prevent pregnancy to begin with, and continued to imploe the woman if she knewof any potions that might prevent conception.

DaFoes warning to the English society of his day involved what he considered the degrading effects of such a scourge upon the institution of marriage. it was, he considered, tantamount to a man, if he encouraged such practices, using his wife as no better than a whore. It was such attitudes as this, in fact, that eventually gave rise to the prudishness of the so-caled Victorian Era in English society, a strict code of morality which enlisted growingnumbers of adherents on both continents of Western society.

And this is pretty much what we are seeing today with the Christian conservative movement, in regards to objections to not only abortion, but in ever increasing cases to contraception and to any kind of reasonable, sensible and moderate sex education in public schools as far as anything other than an insistence upon the practice of abstinence. Also in regards to censorship, to intrusions upon art in television, movies, and literature.

And it also explains a good deal about such phenomenon as protests over portrayals of religion in literature and the cinema. It is related to why Christian clergy the world over, in Greece, Italy, Russia, and even India, are up in arms over The DaVince Code, so much so that the movie is for now yet unavailiable for viewing in India, and in other places outraged clergy are asserting that any who see the movie should be killed. A Vatican official has now gone so far as to insinuate that Dan Brown, the author of the novel The DaVinci Code, should be sued for insulting the Church. Scary beyond words.

Finallt, it is also the reason why religious leaders to such a large degree are insisting they be preeminent in all areas of life, including even in the teaching of Intelligent Design-just another euphemism for creationism-as a viable scientific theory as to the origins of life and the universe. Which is, of course, as any halfway sane person understands, insane.

But how else can you control peoples minds, if you cannot control first their educations. Only then can you control their morals, and through them, by way of guilt, the people themselves. It’s the same old story that caused heads to roll in Russia in 1917. And,if they ever get that degreeof power again, I am confident that they will fail to grasp the lessons of hisotry, and so eventually, as they become more and more pervasice, and corrupt, eventually their heads will roll as well. But not in a span of time that is suitable or acceptable to me.

If anybody wonders as to the whys and wherefores of the so-caled culture wars here in America, realize that it doesn’t really matter which side draws first blood. The only thing that matter is the rivers of blood that might well eventually result. And it is all really so very, very unnecessary.

Would You Like Flies With That?

It looks as though gator season is now going to be not only open, but permanent, year long, day i and day out, wit no limits. If you are a gator, that is, hunting humans. Ther have already been three fatalities involving alligator attacks on young women, one being a 23 year old woman from Louisville, who was attacked whie snorkeling. Her attacker was captured, pending forensic identification with the gators teeth to the bite marks on the body of te unfortunate woman, who died by a combination of blunt force trauma and drowning.

It was somewhat easier to identify the killer of one of another victims. One of her arms was inside the stomach of the gator that was captured shortly after the attack, after the animal was euthanized. What struck me odd about this incident, in patcular, is tat alligators genraly do not behave in this fashion. In most cases of a successful alligator attack upon a human being, the victim is submerged deep within the animals habitat, and given some time to, shall we say, ripen. Or so I have heard. I guess it is possible this could be a way to feed their young. But it could be something else. Like, say, starvation worsened by fierce competition amongst an overpopualtion of gators, in an ever shrinking habitat.

Desptie these incidents, one woman was intimidated by local authorites when she shot and killed an alligator who threatened to enter her home, with an eye on her dog, and so trapping the two of them within her tailor as the beast tried to force itself through her screen door. Having broke the law by the most hairsplitting of technicalities, she was threatened by said authorites with a fine and jail time (These are the kinds of sons-of-bitches, incidentally, who should be tied on skis and dragged behind a pontoon boat at five miles an hour in the middle of Okeefanoke Swamp, in my honest and outraged opinion).

What is obvious about these recent incidents is that one, there are too many people, and, two, there are also too many alligators, and that, therefore, three, these were tragedies that were all but predestined. Alligators are nothing if not living, breathing, killing machines, and require, and will seek, a minimal amount of food. Put too many of them in a limited area, add ever increasing human encroachment within these areas, resulting in further dereases in the animals habitat, and you can only expect one thing. And so far this year, it has happenned at least three times with tragic results.

And so, alligator season has started early. An old encironmental program from the 1970’s which aimed at restoring the alligator population, which at the time was an endangeed speices from an overabundance of hunting for chiefly it’s hide, has worked far too well. The policy against hunting has been finally reversed, but too late it seems for any short time good. The only answer would seem to be to extend the season as well, well past the time it nomally would end.

I have an aunt, recently widowed, who is thinking about getting married to a person she was recently introduced to by her former in-laws, in fact he is her late husbands nephews wives father. She plans on going down to where he lives, the Everglades, for about two weeks, and has promised to bring me some alligator meat upon her return. I just hope she doesn’t end up as alligator meat. But she seems unconcerned.

Florida-it might be a beautiful state to visit, but if you go there to live, you have to be crazy as hell. If you ever get a chance to look an alligator straight i the eye, you would kow what I mean. You might look at it and say, what an awesome creature. But as it looks at you, staring coldly and intently, it’s thinking probably one thing. Man, that sure would hit the

Coyote Ugly

It has been going on behind the ascenes to a great extent, as you seldom hear about it on the national level, but there has been an uptick in reetn arrests of illegal immigrants, with the prospect of heavy fines for those who employ them. I can only assume this to be the case, as there have been a number of such arrests lately. Not in Arizona, not in Colorade, not in New Mexico, not in Califoria, but in-Kentucky. Northern Kentucky, to be exact, right across the river from Cincinnati, Ohio.

I can only assume it is going on in other locales, as I received this news from my local Lexington NBC affiiate, WLEX, Channel 18. No mention of it yet on the national news. Yet, the recent arrests involved Mexican immigrants, undocumented, who were working for home construction contractors.

Ding Ding! So there you have it. The reason for the heretofore, up until just recently, housing boom. It cost contractors appreciably less to build these homes than it would if they hired American workers. Were they dependant on the latter, wages would on average of necessity be higher, and in addition there would be social seurity, etc.

Yet strangely enough, this has not seemed to translate into lower prices for houses, certainly not in a great many areas. You can only assume that in California, for example, the percentage of undocumented workers would be greater than is the case in Kentucky. Yet I can promise you the price you would pay for a five bedroom, three bathroom home in Kentucky, with a basement, bricked, with a surrounding stone wall fence and an attached two car garage, on two acres of land,with a heated back yard swimming pool and tennis courts-would probably buy you a little five room total unbricked, unfenced cottage, no basement, no garage (attached or otherwise), no swimming pool, on a quarter acre lot-if you were lucky enough to find one already buildt in a neighborhood that would doubtless be of dubious quality at best.

Nor by any means does this mean that such a house would be cheap by Kentucky standards. What it does mean is that, in most cases, the benefits of hiring undocumented workers does ot seem to have “trickled down” from employers to the public at large-at least ot in the housing market.

It is, or has been, legalized slavery. And we have all benefited from it. Nor will it change if it is allowed to continue. What a lot of liberals have been advocating in the way of open or semi-open borders seems to be in the hopes that an influx of immigrants will eventually necessitate a gradual improvement of the standard of living in Mexico, and eventually lead to more votes for Democrats, who will then hopefully increase the wages of the undocumented, soon to be legalized, immigrants, and then all of us. The immigrants who come over legally, from Mexico and other nations, will just have to stand in line a little bit longer. After all, they obviously aren’t as desperate, therefore their need isn’t as great. Or, if we insist on fairness, we can just let them all come in. After all, we are now living in a global village, remember-a “New World Order”.

I call it putting the cart before the horse. I call it insanity.

And I smell a big Democratic Party disapointment. Oh, they will likely win the up-and-coming elections, maybe even take over one or even both houses of Congress. But not by enough of a margin to really exercise any meaningful control. Certainly by not enough of a margin to impeach Bush, as a lot of liberals would like and will probably demand, reality be damned (as usual).

A clue for members of both parties who are obstinatwely refusing to be firm on this issue, for thir own self-serving reasons. Americans care first and foremost about their own futures and, more importanly, about the potential future welfare of their children. And they don’t like the smell of what is going on.

But for the time being, they are playing at being tough. Just yesterday evening, border control agents, acting on tip from a citizen informant, attempted to pull over a suspected human smuggler-a coyote-who refused to pull his SUV over, and in fact tried to ram the agent between his vehicle and the slowed traffic in the far lane of the road at one of the busiest border crossings in the south. He was repeatedly arned, and then finally shot dead, after another border agent broke in with a baton his right front passenger window. He was shot five times, and five men were taken into custody.

It might in time get even more violent, more ugly. But if it does, blame first and formeost those in power who have allowed this situation to deteriorate to this point to begin with

Language You Can Understand

The United States Senate has actually done something intelligent and far-sighted, for once, something that is definitely unusual for them, though granted it reeks of pandering. As I always say, it is easy to do the right thing when it is convenient to do so, maybe not so easy when it isn’t. In this case, I definitely am not complaining that the United States Senate has voted by nearly a two to one margin to name English as the national American language. This mandates that anybody that goes to school in the US, no matter where they are from, will be required to learn English. A little bit trickier is the obligation of al limmigrants to learn the language, which should be amended from the bill. But at it’s essence, the Bill is correct in it’s assertion that all immigrants that would become Amrican citizens, should strive to assimilate. To me, it is not so important that a first generation immigrant become fluent in English. As good as that would be, it is too impractical to expect. Their childen, however, should definitely assimilate. Otherwise you have to all intents and purposes a divided country, with divided loyalties, and you are right back to the prospect of a segregated society.

Maddeningly, I have no doubt that the majority of the 34 some Senators that voted against the Bill, if not all of them, are Democrats. I don’t honestly think they did so with the goal of producing a divided country. I do, however, think they are pandering to what makes up a strong and influential segment of their base, who do want just that.

Regardless, the Bill is indeed far sighted. Suppose the Bill ultimately fails to pass, or is, as I fear might be the case, thrown out on constitutional grounds by a leftist leaning judge. The implications of this might not be so obvious immediately, but down the road, they are staggerring. As sure as night follows day, assumming the largest minority language remains Spanish, and this grows to become a significant portion of the popualtion, it would be easy to imagine the time when it is mandated by law that the country become bi-lingual, with the accompanying requirement that both English and Spanish be taught in public schools.

Truthfully, while I do not see this happening, I can see it being proposed and becommng a real issue, and a very divisive one at that. From that point on, it come easily become madatory policy for televison broadcasts to be repeated in Spanish, or shown seperately on some Spanish language alternative channel availiable throughout the country. This would probably drive up expenses across the board.

And I know it is too easy to really let yuur imagination get carried away with all these scenarios, but one thing cannot be avoided, and that is the alternative to all this. This would become a very truly divided country. Only the divisions would be felt not just across regional borders, but in most if not all neighborhoods and cities across the country.

The good thing about the Bill, isthat while it identifies English as the national language of the country, it does not discourage anglo or othe students from learning Spanish, or for that matter any other language, and in fact points out the very real and obvious benefits of this. Still, there has to be a common ground and beginning point, and it only makes common sense that this be with English as the national language. From that point on, we can grow as a nation with a common culture, regardless of what your nation of origin might have been three or four or more generations in the past. After all, how united can the country be if a vast segemnt of the popuation can’t so much as ask for directions from the other.

The Karmic Debt Of Jerry Dean

Audrey Marcum is probably smiling somewhere, wherever that is, if she is aware of the results of the last Jackson County election for Jackson County Court Clerk, which her former boss, and accussed murderer, Jerry Dean, lost to his opponent, Donald “Duck” Morris, by a margin of nearly two to one.

The funny thing is, while Dean was in jail awaiting trial for the murder of Ms. Marcum- who he was accussed of gunning down in her garage after she, his former employee, had filed a sexual harrassment lawsuit against him – he felt obliged to yet run for re-elction to the post he had held for several terms, and in which he was a well like and respected public figure. Yet, even though he was acquitted of the murder, even taking the stand in his own defense, he lost his bid for re-election by a considerably smaller margin.

Then, the anguish and controversy was still fresh in the publics mind. This last time out, he was certain he would be redeemed, and an acquaintance remarked on camera, that people would forget about it eventually. I guess this theory was based on the cliche’ that Americans are a forgiving people, that voters have short memories.

But the voters memories in this case evidently weren’t that short, and they are not that forgiving. Yet, it was not probably so much the suspicous circumstances of the yet unsolved murder, or even the affair, as it is the crassness of this run for office so relatively soon. Especially seeing as how in court Dean was obliged to read a letter he had written to Ms. Marcum which laid out in no uncertain terms the facts of his interest in and sexual pursuits of her.

After all, Dean was running fo roffice in a county that voted overwhelmingly for George W. Bush, based to a large degree on the perception of a call for ethics and morality in public

If Dean expected anything other than this, I guess he got something I seriously doubt he was ever sucessful in getting from Audrey Marcum- fucked.

An Informed Decision

Well, I walked down to my little neighborhood elementary school and did my civic duty, by casting my ballot for the one and only race in which I, as a registered Democrat, was qualified to vote in, a primary election between two Democratic candidates for the office of U.S. House of Representatives from the Fifth District of Kentucky.

Who did I vote for? Hell if I know, it was the first time I had ever heard of either damn one of these guys, neiter one of whom has a snowballs chance in hell of defeating theRepublican incumbent, Harold “Hal” Rogers. Yes, that is the folksy way he is usually listed on ballots, I guess to make you realize he’s a regular guy kind of person.

You see, theFifth District is overwhelmingly Republican, thanks in large part to my county, which is three to one Republican over Democrat. So, why do people vote for this guy. Well, because he is a Republican , of course, and one whop over tecourse of time has come to wield enough power and influence that he has managed to bring home his share of federal money to the area. He is now Chairman of the House Appropriations Sub-committee, so he has some clout. So much so, that the Fifth District of Kentucky is soon to become a new bastion in the War on Terror. In fact, it has been described as, potentially, the next Oak Ridge, Tennessee.

Evidently,that means money for the training of first responders to chemical and biological weapons attacks. Well, so now he has something to show to answer for all the money that has been hidden, I mean, that has gone to a number of organizations and charities with which he has been connected. Only one of these organizations is Operation Unite, of which I have previously ranted as the group of anti-drug warriors that somehow managed to overlook the sleaze bag that used to live across the street from me and who burned down her house, according to rumor, in order to acquire insurance money to payoff a drug debt.

This of course is probably just another boondoggle of similar quality, and I see no promise in it, just another means to funnel money from the good congressman as a patronage gimmick, with the potential for kickbacks to be redirected his way. Of course, there is the possibility it could draw further interest and investment to the area, I will be open minded enough to assess the potential for that, and I will be on the lookout for it. But for now, I have to conclude it is probably just another gimmick from the man whose supporters thought he was of sufficient character to rename the old Daniel Boone Parkway “Hal Rogers Way”.

I still can’t recall the name of the man I voted for in the Democratic primary to run against Rogers in the fall, though he did win by about a four to one margin against his opponent, probably because most of those who voted for him did so for the same reason I did. His was the first name. But I will still vote for him the the general election. You don’t have to kill bears with your bare hands to get my vote. But you do have to be genuine. Otherwise, at least pass some of the pork my way. I’m hungry. Most people that get it are just fat, and greedy.

Weah, Hello

Most of the time you see an artists rendition of the mythical Gorgon Medusa, you are looking more into the soul of the artist than you are at a realistic depiction of the face of sheer terror. Way too often, the depiction is lacking in horror. In fact, the woman will seem plain, if not outright feminine, possibly even attractive, at times even beautiful. Perhaps her face will exude an aura of menace, of evil, but just as often she might seem sad, morose, angry, or even herself fearful-sometimes she might appear comic. In full figured representations you find yourself gazing on the form of a beautiful model, who merely happens to have the unfortunate characteristic of snakes growing out of her head where there should instead be hair. As many times as not, even this seems to add to her attractiveness.

Now, thanks to the Greek artist Oekaki, I am able to present to you what I have always wanted to see, an actual legitimately artistic representation of everything Medusa should be. Sheer, unadulterated terror.

After all, in myth, this entity was born when, after the castration of Uranus by his son Cronus, the latter flung the severed genitals of his father into the ocean, which resulted in several drops of blood splatterred upon the ground. One of these splatters of blood upon the earth formed the wild winged horse Pegasus. From the other, Medusa was born. Yet, in later myth, Medusa was depicted as one of three of the Gorgons, and was described as the mortal one of the three, due possibly to her symbolic birth from the soil of the earth.

I think it was the poet Robert Graves who postulated that the myth of the Medusa was probably based on the use of prophylactic masks in certain goddess cults of Mychaenaean times, specifically singling out the cults of Athene and Hera, who may have used these masks to ward off evil and to frighten away the intruders and curious. This is possible, but I have as yet been made aware of no archaeological or otherwise recorded discoveries that attest to the truth of this. Until such time, we have no way of knowing whether Medusa predated the Hellenic peoples of Classical Greece among the Mychaenaeans, or, for that matter, whether she was adapted from them. Nor can we be sure whether or not she was previously seen in the same manner as she came to be seen by the latter day Greeks with whom we are much more familiar.

Whatever the case, the terrible aspect and ideal of Medusa represents a work of genius of the ancient imagination. She is the face of mortals’ most dreaded fears. To look into her face is to be confronted with, and paralyzed by, all of those fears, all of those that are both personal to the observer, and are unconscous and racial to all mankind. All of those of which we are conscously aware, and at the same time those which reside in the darkest recesses of the unconscous mind.

After all, she was born from the act of castration, itself an innate fear of all men, and so fitting that she should be represented as a female figure, by a culture who itself seems to have taken an untrustworthy view of the feminine sex. Yet, in addition, every snake which protrudes from the Medusas’ head can rightfully be seen as potentially an individual fear, a fear of something-

Poverty, disease, guilt, pain, sufferring, death, loneliness, isolation, humiliation, betrayal-all of those things which have plaqued mankind and turned us all into a global village of neurotic idiots.

This, then, is the accurrate face of Medusa. Look well upon her visage, and thank the artist Oekaki for his vision, and perhaps also for having the kindness for not having her looking directly our way. That may have been too much for us. It may, in fact, have been too much for him. On the other hand, as FDR himself once said-

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself”. That, and maybe an angry woman with a sharp knife.

Sometimes It Just Don't Pay To Be A Bitch

Father John Robertson committed a crime which seems to have come straight from the pages of a Father Andrew Greeley novel. Using a sharp letter opener, he stabbed a nun multiple times, right inside the church, right at the altar, covering her with an altar cloth of some sort as he did so. The stab wounds, which he inflicted after strangling her into unconscous submission, formed the pattern which was reminiscent of the upside down cross. Additionally, he “annointed” her head with her own blood, an act which has ben theorized as being meant to add to the humiliation of the victim.

This was twenty years ago, and though Robinson was briefly investigated as the possible perpetrator, he was quickly absolved of the crime. He seemed to be unconcerned at the degree of suspicion that was cast his way. He performed the nuns funeral mass. After so long, the case was quickly forgotten.

Due to increased interest in solving formerly unsolved crimes due to advances in forensic technologies, the case was reopened, and this lead to Robinson apartment and offices being searched, which turned up the letter opener. As it turns out, the implement held a few trace, microscopic drops of blood, which contained enough of the nuns DNA to provide a positive match.

Robinson has now been found guilty of the crime, for which, unlike a good Andrew Greeley novel, there seems to be not much of a motive. Insofar as is currently known, the nun was a harsh taskmistress, a serious, no-nonsense disciplinarian who may have been something of a busybody. No word on whether there was the potential that she may have had knowledge of other unsavory activities her murderous colleague may have been indulging in.

What I find most incredile of all about this unbelievable story, is the sentence-five years to life.

Are they fucking kidding? That means of course that this priest might well get out of prison after serving a mere five years for this heinous, undoubtedly torturous and painfully cruel act. Of course, he probably will not. The chances are quite good that he will spend the rest of his life in prison. On the other hand, who knows for sure?

This is one of those crimes that call out for the death penaly, and why I am all for it, in general. If somebody like this has the potential of being released after only five years, in a state that has the death penalty, how much more lax will sentencing be if the death penalty ever is done away with. After all, prison rights reformers/activists, if the death penalty is ever sucessfully done away with, will need another issue to champion, right? So, we go back then to that tired old scenario where crimes are to be blamed more on the society that spawned the criminal than on the actual perpetrator, who should be shown some degree of compassion, and maybe given yet another chance to make amends, to contribute to society in positive ways. I see the handwriting on that wall all too well.

And that is definitely enough to make you want to kill somebody.

Somewhere Under A Sand Dune

A lot of times you can learn some interesting shit watching Jay Leno, shit you might not ever hear about anywhere else, which is the case with this story-at least I have as yet to hear it repeated anywhere else. It seems that a Saudi man received surgery which resulted in the successful reatachment of his penis, which had been cut off - by his maid.

Unfortunately, this report did not include the name of the Saudi individual in question, but I can only assume he must have been one of the wealthier citizens of the oil rich state. Most Saudis are actually quite poor, too poor to have maids, so he is one of the wealther ones, obviously. Additionally, he shares the dubious distinction with yet another ndividual, whose name as of now aggravatingly escapes me, who underwent a similar ordeal, in being the unluckiest, and at the same time luckiest, individual on the planet. In this latest case, of course, how lucky he is is tangential to the degree of success of the operation.

As for the maid, incidentally, unlike the man, I think I do know her name-

ONE DEAD BITCH!!

Tom Cruise Is A Fucking Jerk

Katie Holmes is one crazy, neurotic, beautiful bitch. Yeah, I put her right up there with Jolie and Zeta-Jones, only maybe even more so. There is something about selfishness, petulance, and silliness in females that I find perversely attractive. But I think it is just that fucking crazy look she has in her eyes, that slight hint of near insanity that gleems out at you. And of course she’s crazy, why the hell else would she marry a fucking nut like Tom Cruise-even if it is a sham, a fraud. A show marriage.

But what the hell is it for? And why the hell would I in my wildest imaginings go to see Mission Impossible Three, an act which would require me to drive twenty miles in a vehicle that is unfortunately a gas hog. Nope, not worth it. Nor would I see it if it is in walking distance, in fact I would probably agree to see it only under certain conditions, like for example, if I was forced to sit through it at gunpoint.

Why? Well, it really has nothing to do, at least not directly, with Cruses infatuation with the Scientology religion of which he has become such an insufferably sickening proponent. In fact, he has seemed to tap that tendency down, lately. Nor does it have to do with the fact that I think he is using Miss Holmes (and she him) for the sake of publicity, or to be blunt, appearrances. I do, however, fear that he is going to ruin her career, and maybe her life, ultimately. She may deserve it, or may have at one time, but now I think she has been taken past the point where she really has any thing like a free will.

But no, my objections to even the idea of patronizing this movie, even as good as it is said to be, goes right back to his obsession with Scientology. And from there, the Comedy Central network. And the little cartoon series, South Park. Because of Cruses objections, a segment which was run once, which poked fun at the religion of Scientology and of several of it’s celebrity adherents-including, notably, Cruse, of course-was not re-run. Cruse threatened not the network itself, but the parentn company, who also, it turns out, are the producers of Mission Impossible Three.

So how exactly did Cruise threaten the company? Simply put, if they allowed the segment to be repeated, he would refuse to promote the movie. Thus, I would have been denied the pleasure of seeing him last night on Jay Leno, for those roughly first two seconds of his appearrance before I turned off the channel. This was just too much for the company to bear, and I honestly can’t fault them for making this obvious business driven decision. I think they could have forced Cruise to promote the movie, probably, under the terms of his contractural obligations. But what would that be worth?

“So Tom, tell us about your new movie?”

“Ah, it’s okay. I’ve done better.”

And so you have yet another example of a minority that demands the rights guaranteed to the minority, that turns right around and tries to deny the rights of everybody else when it seems to be in their best interests to do so. That’s why I wouldn’t go see this movie, and would hope to convince as many people as possible not to see it as well. After all, didn’t Cruise insult the Mafia when he filmed “The Firm?” To say nothing of corporate lawyers? That’s two despised minority groups right there he insulted. Well, the lawyers anyway. Didn’t he insult a good many Vietnam veterans when he filmed “Born On The Fourth Of July?” And what was all this fucking shit about “A Few Good Men”? Hell, he jumped on the anti Guantanamo bandwagon with that flick almost ten years ahead of time. But he can’t take a little criticism? Bullshit!!!

Cruise is just another spoiled Hollywood elitist actor, in my view, who doesn’t deserve anyones patronage. Like his misnamed infant daughter, a pickpocket who thinks he’s royalty.

Cinco De My Ass

A sure sign that a large segment of the Hispanic population of the United States, if not the majority of them, are more Pro-Latino Nationalist than they and a good many of their supporters would like you to believe, is their obsession with the relatively recent, to America, phenomenon of the celelbration of the Mexican holiday of Cinco de Mayo. The political impications are obvious to me, given the current national mood and controversial nature of the illegal immigrant issue.

This is more than just a Mexican version of the Irish Saint Patricks Day, which has become as much an all around American tradition, in this country, as it is an Irish one. Cinco de Mayo reeks of Mexican nationalism, in fact that is what it openly celebrates. Ordinarily, I would not begrudge them this, as they certainly have a right to the holiday and the celebration of it, however way you slice it. I just can’t help but feel that an Anglo whose loyalties are unknown would be looked upon with suspicion by the masses of Latino celebrants, should he find himself in the middle of one.

Actually, I wonder just what the hell it is they are celebrating. Are they perhaps actually looking toward the future in a more symbolic way than they would care to admit? I know that question may itself reek of a sense of paranoia, but the situation being what it now is, I can’t help but wonder. Maybe I am reading too much into it. After all, probably most of the Latino population celebrates the holiday in an appropriately festive way, with no underlying feelings of anarchistic or rebellious attitudes. All perfectly innocent. But there is that undercurrent. Okay, call me a worry wart. Maybe it is all perfectly innocent, and maybe I should just lighten up.

On the other hand, what the hell are they celebrating? Unless I am mistaken, Cinco de Mayo is supposed to be a celebration of the Mexican rebellion against and overthrow of the French, who attempted to impose themselves on the people of Mexico, which they desired as a colony. I guess this relates to the capture and execution of Maximillian, a puppet king of Mexico, and descendant, I think, of Napoleon, who was installed by the French-or was it the Austrian Hapsburghs? Or was it both? Does it really matter? The Mexicans won that one, God bless ‘em. While they are celebrating that victory, maybe they might want to look anew at the way things turned out in the aftermath. Not too well, I tend to assume.

In fact, Mexico from that point on didn’t so much begin a long downhill slide, it had already spent a good many years in that precarious predicament. But from this point on, it was a sudden drop straight down to the depths. You are looking here at a nation that has spent almost the entirety of it’s independent history as a feudal fiefdom divided pretty much among a relative handful of wealthy families who pretty much control the nations wealth and infrastructure, and civil services, and agriculture, and what industry there is to speak of, and have continued to do so with the grip of an iron hand. Thank God for tequilla and mezcal, I guess, if you’re going to celebrate, you need something to help you forget you really don’t have a damn thing to party about.

It just don’t make any fucking sense. Not to me, anyway. A generalized celebration of Mexican culture, now that would be something I could certainly understand, no mystery there. But Cinco de Mayo? That makes about as much fucking sense as celebrating the overthrow of the Alamo.

Blue Jacket

It would probably take a historian who is a specialist of the Ohio valley region to be familiar with the story of Blue Jacket, the Shawnee Chief who sided with the British against the colonial era settlers during the Revolutionary War, and who was a brutal and bloodthirsty enemy of the white settlers afterwards. But this same Blue Jacket has been the subjectof a yearly Pioneer Playhous type historical drama for some years to come. Unfortunately, this might soon become a thing of the past. Due to lack of funding, the current season might well be cancelled, unless the organizers of the yearly outdoor drama can mount a succesful drive for the solicitation of funds amounting to an estimated fifteen thousand dollars or more. It might be due to economic consdierations. These are not the best of times to engage in frivolous travel activities, is my guess. Or, it could be simply that the drama has just gotten old and might seem a little too tame by the standards of modern entertainment. Remember, this is a family drama. Or, it could simply have run it’s course, at long, long last. Hell, even Hello, Dolly, Oklahoma, and Showboat closed eventually. Nothing lasts forever.

From what I have learned thus far, it seems to have nothing to do with protests from politically correct Native American Rights activists and their allies. So, I have, alas, nothing there to bitch about. But I will be fucking damned if I will let that stop me.

Blue Jacket was, from all accounts, a bloodthirsty monster who stands among the top of the heap as being a main reason for the disintegration of relations between colonial white Americans and American Indians. Colonial white settlers were brutal and barbaric, as well, of that I have no doubt, and they bear their share of the burden (please note-they, not we, bore their share of the burden), but Blue Jacket, and others, were equally savage, possibly more so.

They sided with the French in the French and Indian War. Then, they sided with the British in the Revolutionary War. Then, they sided with the British yet again, in the War of 1812. On all these occassions, and times in between, they exhibited a predilection and a lust fo rbutchery that was remarkable in it’s bloodthirstiness. This period of time, in fact, from roughly 1753 until the closing of the War of 1812, would be the period that would mark and forever color the relations between American and Indian.

This is not meant to excuse the brutality and the excesses of the Americans in the following decades, but to explain it. Just the other side of the coin you are hardly if ever presented with. Unfortunately, if the outdoor drama Blue Jacket can not somehow be salvaged, it will be further clouded in mist. If for no other reason than this one alone, I hope the play continues.