He didn't just lose. He came in dead last, and this was the horse everyone was sure would be the first triple crown winner in thirty years. Instead, a filly by the name Ka Tara won the race, and everybody is wondering what the hell happened.
Was his hoof a problem, or was it the fact that he had not been able to train due to the hoof, which had a slight crack? Was it the heat, the humidity, the fact that the Belmont is the longest of the three triple crown races? Was it a combination of some or even all of these factors?
For that matter, is it possible that the horse has a recently developing yet heretofore unknown health problem? Possibly, he might have just had a bad day.
I personally think I know what went wrong. The horse had the misfortune of drawing the number one starting position, which put him on the inside track, against the rails, which he is not used to running. Remember, he has not been in that many races, and what few he has run, he is used to being surrounded, and running pretty much in the post position he has drawn, adjusting his position gradually throughout his races.
This was new to him, and then the jockey compounded the horses confusion by jockeying for a better position in mid-race-something else the horse was not used to. Chances are he could have adapted and won the race at his inside position if the jockey had kept him there, or at least had not tried to move him out so early. He should have at least placed or showed.
This is noted as an intelligent horse, which sounds good, but in horse terms, it can be a problem. When he caught on to the jockey trying to put him in a different place, it confused him. He wondered, "what the hell is going on here?" He interpreted the attempted jockeying for a different position as a problem, and it disoriented him even worse than he might have ordinarily been. To the jockey's credit, once he saw the horse was disoriented and might be having a problem, he didn't push him, fearing there might have been a health reason for the lackluster performance.
I feel bad for the horse more than anything. This is one hell of a horse, and I still think he is the best of this field, and the best of this season. I fully expect him to win the Breeder's Cup, and another race he will run before that one. Afterwards he will be put out to stud, and will still make a lot of money for his owner, based on the Kentucky Derby and Preakness wins.
Triple Crown champions don't come along every day, in fact, they are a rarity. It's just too bad that the most promising aspirant for the honor in a long time may have lost out due to the bad luck of drawing a shitty post position.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Friday, June 06, 2008
Rumblings Before The Eruption
I read the recent Vanity Fair article about Bill Clinton written by Todd Purdum, the husband of former Clinton White House Press Secretary Dee Dee Myers, not really expecting much. Surprisingly, this turned out to be the best article I've read in a long time, and one of the best I've ever read that I can remember off hand.
Going by current media reports, you would assume it deals primarily with Clinton's friendship and rumored affair with actress Gina Gershon, pictured above. This in fact is only a small facet of the article, which is actually about Clinton and his life and post presidential activities and associations in general. There is an appreciable amount of speculation, but even this is based on observation, and there are a lot of hard facts in the piece as well. I recommend the article highly.
As for Miss Gershon, here is a link to a website which has a series of pictures of the actress, including the one above. Evidently Miss Gershon will put just about anything in her mouth.
Boo Hoo Hoo Obama Loves Da Fucking Jews Blues
Obama loves dose fucking Joooos he sed so rite here in dis here AIPAC speech and looky dere he even let him take his pichure with dem Jews.
No he don't not really love dose fucking Jews he just be pretending to love dose Jews but him just be playing politics he really love dose fucking Arabs becuz an Arab guy made speeches for him and stuff so dere but shit maybe he does love dose fucking Jews or he wouldn't have sed he loves dopse fucking Jews but he did.
John McCain loves dose Jews so much him wants to bomb bomb bomb bomb bomb Iran and Obama don't wanna bomb bomb bomb bomb bomb Iran so fuck dat mudderfucker dat proves he don't really love dose fucking Jews I mean dose nice Jews.
Joe Liebermann hims a Jew and Obama don't love dat fucking Jew either because him supporded dat dere Ned Lamont so dere mudderfuckers dat proves he don't love dem Jews and dat Jew Joe Lieberman don't like him eider but him won't admit it becus of Ned Lamont but say becus Obama don't really love dem fucking Jews I mean dose good Jews like Joe Lieberman.
Obama is a librul so dat proves rite dere he dont love dem fucking Jews I mean dose good Jews
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Jumping The Gun
I may have done it big time with this post about Scott McClellans book about George W. Bush.
My initial reaction might best be summed up as-"Wow! He ought to know. Maybe a lot of the crap about Bush and Cheney is right after all. Why would McClellan lie about it?"
Well, come to find out, he might have done just that, in order to sell a book he found impossible to sell as originally proposed.
Mr. Beamish The Kakistocrat, who writes the blog The Crank Files sent me a number of links, the first of which I initially ignored. After all, this is a guy prone to making such statements as "The DemoKKKratic Party has been intent on destroying the US Constitution from the beginning. They hate Americans and want to fill mass graves with as many of them as they can."
So one might forgive my skepticism. However, he then sent me a link I could not ignore, and once I read this link detailing how McClellans book proposal changed and evolved when placed under the tutelage of a George Soros publisher, I went back and read the first link, which offers an additional bit of information on how the non-fiction book publishing world works.
The most important link, however, might be this one I found early in the comments section of the newsbusters link. It is a Rasmussin Reports article written by Bob Novak, who reminds us that the real leaker in the Valerie Plame affair was not Karl Rove, or Scooter Libby, or Dick Cheney, or any of the war hawks connected with the White House. It was, in fact, Richard Armitage, the Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell-a man who was in fact not in the inner circle of Iraq War supporters, and who was in fact an opponent of the war.
According to Novak, McClellan all but ignores Armitage's contribution to the case, such as it is, and concentrates on the now generally discredited charges against Rove, as though it were 2004 all over again and the truth never came out
This assertion by Novak was the eye-opener, because I have known for some time about Armitage's role as the primary leaker of Valerie Plame's name. For McClellan to ignore or vastly downplay this in the book tells you all you need to know.
In other words, this is not necessarily a book to read if you want to know the truth, it is a political hatchet job by an associate of left-wing George Soros, utilizing the credentials of a former Whtie House staffer to assume the mantle of legitimacy in attacking the White House, and by extension the Republican Party-or at least the national security wing of the party and their Iraq War and domestic security agenda.
Actually, just like laws against slander and libel should be rigidly enforced against private citizens, the same should apply to political libel and slander against politicians-including during the course of campaigns and in campaign ads. That would go a long way toward assuring people aren't deceived by this kind of thing.
Not should it be necessary for Rove to file charges, assuming he is truly inncoent of any wrongdoing. The press has a responsibility to tell the truth. Any outlet that engages in outright deception in order to further first one political agenda or another is doing a grave disservice to the American people, and they need to be deprived of their press credentials, at the very least.
My initial reaction might best be summed up as-"Wow! He ought to know. Maybe a lot of the crap about Bush and Cheney is right after all. Why would McClellan lie about it?"
Well, come to find out, he might have done just that, in order to sell a book he found impossible to sell as originally proposed.
Mr. Beamish The Kakistocrat, who writes the blog The Crank Files sent me a number of links, the first of which I initially ignored. After all, this is a guy prone to making such statements as "The DemoKKKratic Party has been intent on destroying the US Constitution from the beginning. They hate Americans and want to fill mass graves with as many of them as they can."
So one might forgive my skepticism. However, he then sent me a link I could not ignore, and once I read this link detailing how McClellans book proposal changed and evolved when placed under the tutelage of a George Soros publisher, I went back and read the first link, which offers an additional bit of information on how the non-fiction book publishing world works.
The most important link, however, might be this one I found early in the comments section of the newsbusters link. It is a Rasmussin Reports article written by Bob Novak, who reminds us that the real leaker in the Valerie Plame affair was not Karl Rove, or Scooter Libby, or Dick Cheney, or any of the war hawks connected with the White House. It was, in fact, Richard Armitage, the Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell-a man who was in fact not in the inner circle of Iraq War supporters, and who was in fact an opponent of the war.
According to Novak, McClellan all but ignores Armitage's contribution to the case, such as it is, and concentrates on the now generally discredited charges against Rove, as though it were 2004 all over again and the truth never came out
This assertion by Novak was the eye-opener, because I have known for some time about Armitage's role as the primary leaker of Valerie Plame's name. For McClellan to ignore or vastly downplay this in the book tells you all you need to know.
In other words, this is not necessarily a book to read if you want to know the truth, it is a political hatchet job by an associate of left-wing George Soros, utilizing the credentials of a former Whtie House staffer to assume the mantle of legitimacy in attacking the White House, and by extension the Republican Party-or at least the national security wing of the party and their Iraq War and domestic security agenda.
Actually, just like laws against slander and libel should be rigidly enforced against private citizens, the same should apply to political libel and slander against politicians-including during the course of campaigns and in campaign ads. That would go a long way toward assuring people aren't deceived by this kind of thing.
Not should it be necessary for Rove to file charges, assuming he is truly inncoent of any wrongdoing. The press has a responsibility to tell the truth. Any outlet that engages in outright deception in order to further first one political agenda or another is doing a grave disservice to the American people, and they need to be deprived of their press credentials, at the very least.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Radu-Epilogue (A Novel by Patrick Kelley)
Links to all previous chapters follows this epilogue
Radu-Epilogue (A Novel by Patrick Kelley)
6pages approximate
Phelps barreled through the Virginia countryside. Only a few months had passed since the last time he was through here, but it seemed like more than a decade-like another lifetime, in fact. Every mile he drove in the old van brought back yet another painful memory. Although he knew that it was only the mountains and forests of southwestern Virginia through which he traversed, in many ways it seemed like some kind of primeval forest, unseen or untouched by any human eyes or hands.
When he got to the final road, the first change since his last journey through the area was immediately apparent. Someone had paved and widened the formerly narrow gravel road that led to the old Leighton Farm. In fact, there was a sign, identifying it as Leighton Road, while an arrow pointed in the direction of the Martin and Louise Krovelescu Orphanage.
He was almost there, but knew he had to hurry, before the children returned from their weekend excursion to Washington DC.
“What exactly are we supposed to find out here?” Cruiser Dietrich asked him. “This had better be good, Phelps. I’m too old to be out this far from civilization.”
“Have you heard any word from Carter yet, or from his wife and kid?” Phelps replied.
“I already told you no,” Cruiser replied glumly.
“That’s what we’re supposed to find. That was really a bad idea sending them out here, pretending to want to adopt a kid, and it was especially stupid for them to take their own kid along to make it look good. I don’t know why in the hell I agreed to that.”
“It was a good plan,” Cruiser replied defensively. “If there was anything that warranted looking into”-
“Which you didn’t think there was, or you would never have sent the three of them out here, admit it,” Phelps said. “Look, there it is. Damn, that place looks like it could hold fifty kids, at least.”
“According to Carter, they come and go,” Cruiser said. “There’s something like thirty-seven there now.”
“We need to find some of the kids that have been adopted out,” Phelps mused. “If we can get into their records, and find some of them, maybe we can find out what’s going on in there. After what I went through, I know that place isn’t just another run of the mill orphanage and adoption center. So far, three people that have tried to adopt kids from the place have turned up dead. Guess where the bulk of their estate went?”
Cruiser could not hide the level of concern he felt at the implications of Phelps’s comment.
“I know it’s suspicious, but”-
“All three of them had some of these kids staying with them on a trial basis,” Phelps continued. “All three of them were widowers, with lots of money-powerful individuals with positions of authority in Washington. For God’s sake, one of them was a Deputy Undersecretary of the Treasury. He was in the picture of health, yet he falls over dead from a heart attack? Come on.”
Phelps pulled up a respectable distance from the newly constructed mansion, and opened the door to the van. As he got out, he looked toward Dietrich.
“Well, are you coming?”
Dietrich moaned and, deciding he did not want to be alone out here, he reluctantly opened his door and stepped out of the van, as Phelps began shooting pictures of the property and the house.
“We’d better hurry,” Dietrich said. “If we get caught, you know it’s breaking and entering, right?”
“If we get caught, that will be the least of our worries.”
Suddenly, both men stopped in their tracks as they heard in the distance the voice of an apparently young girl calling to someone.
“Cynthia!” she shouted, several times.
“Jesus, somebody’s here,” Dietrich said, almost relieved that now there would be no possibility of realistically going through with this foolhardy scheme.
“Can we help you?” a girlish voice addressed them, whereupon they turned to see the bizarre sight of a half-dressed teenage girl, who proceeded to introduce herself as Elena. As she did so, several others joined her, including some young boys.
Phelps was beside himself with worry, but Dietrich managed to spit out an obvious excuse, one he had planed and rehearsed for the last several days for just such an occasion.
“Well, hello, young lady,” he said. “We are newspaper reporters, and we are here to do a story on you, and on your orphanage.”
“Are Mikhail and Nadia expecting you?” she asked, whereupon several of the other children whispered furtively at each other while casting suspicious glances in the direction of the obviously unwelcome intruders.
“You mean the caretakers?” Dietrich asked. “Well, no, we never seem to be able to get a hold of them, unfortunately.”
“We sure have had a lot of visitors lately,” Elena said. “You don’t know about the cop, do you?”
“The cop-what cop?” Phelps asked.
“Oh, it’s not important, Phelps,” Cruiser said. “Here, young lady, you seem to have something on your mouth.”
As he said this, Dietrich reached out with a napkin he just procured from the pocket of his blazer and, before Eleana could react, he wiped her mouth.
She jerked back slightly as she mumbled a thank you, while Phelps looked on in amazement.
“How about a picture of you guys?” he asked.
“We’re not allowed to talk to strangers nor have our pictures taken,” the boy named Eitan responded. “You’ll have to get permission from Nadia for that, or Mikhail. Shall we tell them you are here?”
The two men both reacted with silence, unsure of how to respond, when a man suddenly rounded the corner, a man whom Phelps recognized, yet was surprised to see at this place.
“Well, I was wondering when the two of you would get here,” Detective Anderson said. “I just had a nice long talk with the caretakers of the orphanage. Nice little place here.”
“We have to go inside and clean up for dinner,” Elena said. “If you need anything else, just talk to Elena and Mikhail.”
With that, the children turned and made their way toward the house, as Phelps, looking around the corner, noted the presence of the Land Rover and the menacing eyes of its driver, Mercury Morris, who gazed upon the three visitors with malicious intensity.
“I’m glad your boss told me what the two of you were up to,” Frank said to Phelps. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, I’m afraid. There’s nothing out here. It seems to be just what it’s supposed to be-an orphanage, and actually a pretty damn good one.”
“There’s nothing out here, huh?” Phelps said. “What about Gordie Carter, and his wife and son? We sent Gordie here to look into this place three days ago, and we haven’t heard from him since. He and his family have vanished, and no one knows where they are. Explain that one.”
Frank Anderson looked at Phelps in seeming amazement.
“You are kidding me, right?” he asked.
Before Phelps could respond, two figures made their way towards them from out of the woods. To the horror of both Phelps and Dietrich, one of the children was Danny Carter-the son of the missing undercover tabloid news reporter.
“Danny, what are you doing here?” Dietrich asked.
“Mr. Dietrich-it’s good to see you again. Didn’t you know? Mom and dad have moved to Bolivia, and they left me here. They gave me up for adoption.”
“Oh-my God,” Phelps said after a moment of stunned silence.
“Danny, are you sure?” Dietrich asked. “I’m sorry, but I”-
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Danny said. “I love it here. I have a lot of friends, and we have a lot of fun here. We learn a lot of cool things, too.”
“Thats-that’s real good, Danny,” Cruiser replied.
“Well, we’ve got to be going,” he said, as he and the young girl who stood by his side turned to walk off back into the house. Danny walked inside, but the girl stopped at the door, and watched them quizzically.
“Something’s definitely not right here,” Dietrich said.
Anderson, however, was firm.
“Look, I’ve had the Department look into this place. There is absolutely nothing out of the way here, as far as we can tell. I’ve been out here for more than five hours now, and frankly, it would trickle me to death if all orphanages were as well run as this one is. They have a well-rounded educational curriculum-state accredited, by the way-and they seem to exercise appropriate discipline when needed. They take field trips to Washington and other places on a regular basis. From what I’ve gathered, the kids live a balanced, well-rounded life. Hell, they even grow their own food here, and sell some of it in the nearby town. They are happy, happier than any kids I’ve seen in other places, and in fact seem better adjusted than most kids living in two parent families.”
“And you came to this conclusion on the basis of a five hour visit?” Dietrich replied. “Detective, I understand your reluctance, but I know Gordon Carter, and his wife. They would never go off to a place like Bolivia, with no word to anyone, and just leave their only kid in an orphanage, one which their only familiarity with is as a place I sent them to investigate-on pretty disturbing grounds at that.”
“Maybe they would if the kid is on drugs,” Anderson said plainly. “As for Bolivia, maybe that’s just what they told him. As for these charges you’re investigating, you can take my word for it-you’re wasting your time.”
“What about Mercury Morris?” Phelps demanded. “What’s that punk doing out here? Do you consider a former Seventeenth Pulse member and accused murderer and terrorist bomber an appropriate guardian?”
“No, but then again, the operative word, as you said, is ‘former’. So far as I know, he’s their driver. He runs errands, takes them to the doctor when necessary, and takes them on field trips. As far as this other stuff you‘re accusing them of, if you can come up with something concrete, I will gladly listen. In the meantime, there is nothing I can do. I am sorry.”
He stood there silently, giving them a chance to respond while hoping what he said sunk in and anchored to some level of inner acceptance, but neither of the men replied.
“Okay, I have to go,” he concluded. “I’ve been here long enough. Naturally, I’ll keep up with them from time to time, and I’m always open to new information. Honestly, though, gentlemen, I’ve been in this business for more than thirty years now, and I think I can promise you that you are definitely barking up the wrong tree.”
“Very well, Detective Anderson,” Dietrich replied. “Maybe you are right.”
“Goodbye, then,” Anderson said, whereupon he turned to walk toward his vehicle. In disgust, Phelps turned toward his van, only to see the unnerving site of the big black vulture perched on a branch above where he parked the van. It was staring at him knowingly, as though peering inside his soul.
“Where in the hell did that thing come from?” Cruiser asked as he stepped up to the side of Phelps.
Phelps remembered the first time he saw the bird, feeding off the carcass of a dead cow, on a remote part of this property.
“How do you know it’s the same one?” Cruiser asked.
“Believe me, it’s the same one,” he replied as they were suddenly joined by the young girl they had earlier seen with Danny Carter, and who had watched them curiously from the doorway of the house.
“Hello, how are you two doing?” she asked.
Cruiser looked at the girl in heightened awareness that she, of all of the children they had seen, seemed different somehow-perhaps even special. Moreover, something about her was unnervingly familiar.
“Hello, young lady-what is your name, if I might ask?” Cruiser asked.
“Grace Rodescu,” came the reply, and as Cruiser and Phelps looked at each other in shocked awareness, Lieutenant Frank Anderson went driving by them. Grace with a smile cheerfully waved her hand in his direction. She turned back toward the two, but focused her attention on Phelps.
“Have you found what you’re looking for?” she asked.
“I think so,” Phelps replied gravely.
“I’m sorry you had such a hard time there,” she said. “Everything worked out fine in the long run though, huh?”
Phelps didn’t know quite how to respond, and could not hide his obvious shock.
“Well, it’s about time for dinner, so I have to go join the others. I do hope the two of you will come see me again.”
She smiled winsomely at the pair, and then turned and bounded off toward the house.
“I don’t believe this for a minute,” Cruiser said.
“Yes, you do,” Phelps replied. “Come on-let’s get the hell out of here.”
They climbed inside the van as the vulture made its way now toward the roof of the house, from whence it perched and gazed in their direction. As Phelps started up the van, Cruiser extracted the napkin from his blazer pocket.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“I’m almost sure this is blood, and some gore,” he said. “I’m going to have it tested, and if it turns out to be what I think it is, Anderson will have to listen. If he doesn’t, somebody will.”
“I wouldn’t count on that if I were you,” Phelps replied as he pulled out onto the little narrow road. He wanted to get away from there as quickly as he could. As he drove, the vulture followed above them, but suddenly veered off to the left, and toward a clearing in the thick woods, where the two bodies waited.
Cynthia dove down onto the closest body, the one of the man, and hungrily tore into his rotting corpse. She was hungry, and this afternoon, she would dine well.
Links to Previous Chapters
Part One
Prologue and Chapters I-X
Part Two
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
PartThree
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Chapter XXXI
Chapter XXXII
Chapter XXXIII
Chapter XXXIV
Chapter XXXV
Chapter XXXVI
Chapter XXXVII
Chapter XXXVIII
Chapter XXXIX
Chapter XXXX
Chapter XXXXI
Chapter XXXXII
Chapter XXXXIII
Chapter XXXXIV
Chapter XXXXV
Chapter XXXXVI
Radu-Epilogue (A Novel by Patrick Kelley)
6pages approximate
Phelps barreled through the Virginia countryside. Only a few months had passed since the last time he was through here, but it seemed like more than a decade-like another lifetime, in fact. Every mile he drove in the old van brought back yet another painful memory. Although he knew that it was only the mountains and forests of southwestern Virginia through which he traversed, in many ways it seemed like some kind of primeval forest, unseen or untouched by any human eyes or hands.
When he got to the final road, the first change since his last journey through the area was immediately apparent. Someone had paved and widened the formerly narrow gravel road that led to the old Leighton Farm. In fact, there was a sign, identifying it as Leighton Road, while an arrow pointed in the direction of the Martin and Louise Krovelescu Orphanage.
He was almost there, but knew he had to hurry, before the children returned from their weekend excursion to Washington DC.
“What exactly are we supposed to find out here?” Cruiser Dietrich asked him. “This had better be good, Phelps. I’m too old to be out this far from civilization.”
“Have you heard any word from Carter yet, or from his wife and kid?” Phelps replied.
“I already told you no,” Cruiser replied glumly.
“That’s what we’re supposed to find. That was really a bad idea sending them out here, pretending to want to adopt a kid, and it was especially stupid for them to take their own kid along to make it look good. I don’t know why in the hell I agreed to that.”
“It was a good plan,” Cruiser replied defensively. “If there was anything that warranted looking into”-
“Which you didn’t think there was, or you would never have sent the three of them out here, admit it,” Phelps said. “Look, there it is. Damn, that place looks like it could hold fifty kids, at least.”
“According to Carter, they come and go,” Cruiser said. “There’s something like thirty-seven there now.”
“We need to find some of the kids that have been adopted out,” Phelps mused. “If we can get into their records, and find some of them, maybe we can find out what’s going on in there. After what I went through, I know that place isn’t just another run of the mill orphanage and adoption center. So far, three people that have tried to adopt kids from the place have turned up dead. Guess where the bulk of their estate went?”
Cruiser could not hide the level of concern he felt at the implications of Phelps’s comment.
“I know it’s suspicious, but”-
“All three of them had some of these kids staying with them on a trial basis,” Phelps continued. “All three of them were widowers, with lots of money-powerful individuals with positions of authority in Washington. For God’s sake, one of them was a Deputy Undersecretary of the Treasury. He was in the picture of health, yet he falls over dead from a heart attack? Come on.”
Phelps pulled up a respectable distance from the newly constructed mansion, and opened the door to the van. As he got out, he looked toward Dietrich.
“Well, are you coming?”
Dietrich moaned and, deciding he did not want to be alone out here, he reluctantly opened his door and stepped out of the van, as Phelps began shooting pictures of the property and the house.
“We’d better hurry,” Dietrich said. “If we get caught, you know it’s breaking and entering, right?”
“If we get caught, that will be the least of our worries.”
Suddenly, both men stopped in their tracks as they heard in the distance the voice of an apparently young girl calling to someone.
“Cynthia!” she shouted, several times.
“Jesus, somebody’s here,” Dietrich said, almost relieved that now there would be no possibility of realistically going through with this foolhardy scheme.
“Can we help you?” a girlish voice addressed them, whereupon they turned to see the bizarre sight of a half-dressed teenage girl, who proceeded to introduce herself as Elena. As she did so, several others joined her, including some young boys.
Phelps was beside himself with worry, but Dietrich managed to spit out an obvious excuse, one he had planed and rehearsed for the last several days for just such an occasion.
“Well, hello, young lady,” he said. “We are newspaper reporters, and we are here to do a story on you, and on your orphanage.”
“Are Mikhail and Nadia expecting you?” she asked, whereupon several of the other children whispered furtively at each other while casting suspicious glances in the direction of the obviously unwelcome intruders.
“You mean the caretakers?” Dietrich asked. “Well, no, we never seem to be able to get a hold of them, unfortunately.”
“We sure have had a lot of visitors lately,” Elena said. “You don’t know about the cop, do you?”
“The cop-what cop?” Phelps asked.
“Oh, it’s not important, Phelps,” Cruiser said. “Here, young lady, you seem to have something on your mouth.”
As he said this, Dietrich reached out with a napkin he just procured from the pocket of his blazer and, before Eleana could react, he wiped her mouth.
She jerked back slightly as she mumbled a thank you, while Phelps looked on in amazement.
“How about a picture of you guys?” he asked.
“We’re not allowed to talk to strangers nor have our pictures taken,” the boy named Eitan responded. “You’ll have to get permission from Nadia for that, or Mikhail. Shall we tell them you are here?”
The two men both reacted with silence, unsure of how to respond, when a man suddenly rounded the corner, a man whom Phelps recognized, yet was surprised to see at this place.
“Well, I was wondering when the two of you would get here,” Detective Anderson said. “I just had a nice long talk with the caretakers of the orphanage. Nice little place here.”
“We have to go inside and clean up for dinner,” Elena said. “If you need anything else, just talk to Elena and Mikhail.”
With that, the children turned and made their way toward the house, as Phelps, looking around the corner, noted the presence of the Land Rover and the menacing eyes of its driver, Mercury Morris, who gazed upon the three visitors with malicious intensity.
“I’m glad your boss told me what the two of you were up to,” Frank said to Phelps. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, I’m afraid. There’s nothing out here. It seems to be just what it’s supposed to be-an orphanage, and actually a pretty damn good one.”
“There’s nothing out here, huh?” Phelps said. “What about Gordie Carter, and his wife and son? We sent Gordie here to look into this place three days ago, and we haven’t heard from him since. He and his family have vanished, and no one knows where they are. Explain that one.”
Frank Anderson looked at Phelps in seeming amazement.
“You are kidding me, right?” he asked.
Before Phelps could respond, two figures made their way towards them from out of the woods. To the horror of both Phelps and Dietrich, one of the children was Danny Carter-the son of the missing undercover tabloid news reporter.
“Danny, what are you doing here?” Dietrich asked.
“Mr. Dietrich-it’s good to see you again. Didn’t you know? Mom and dad have moved to Bolivia, and they left me here. They gave me up for adoption.”
“Oh-my God,” Phelps said after a moment of stunned silence.
“Danny, are you sure?” Dietrich asked. “I’m sorry, but I”-
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Danny said. “I love it here. I have a lot of friends, and we have a lot of fun here. We learn a lot of cool things, too.”
“Thats-that’s real good, Danny,” Cruiser replied.
“Well, we’ve got to be going,” he said, as he and the young girl who stood by his side turned to walk off back into the house. Danny walked inside, but the girl stopped at the door, and watched them quizzically.
“Something’s definitely not right here,” Dietrich said.
Anderson, however, was firm.
“Look, I’ve had the Department look into this place. There is absolutely nothing out of the way here, as far as we can tell. I’ve been out here for more than five hours now, and frankly, it would trickle me to death if all orphanages were as well run as this one is. They have a well-rounded educational curriculum-state accredited, by the way-and they seem to exercise appropriate discipline when needed. They take field trips to Washington and other places on a regular basis. From what I’ve gathered, the kids live a balanced, well-rounded life. Hell, they even grow their own food here, and sell some of it in the nearby town. They are happy, happier than any kids I’ve seen in other places, and in fact seem better adjusted than most kids living in two parent families.”
“And you came to this conclusion on the basis of a five hour visit?” Dietrich replied. “Detective, I understand your reluctance, but I know Gordon Carter, and his wife. They would never go off to a place like Bolivia, with no word to anyone, and just leave their only kid in an orphanage, one which their only familiarity with is as a place I sent them to investigate-on pretty disturbing grounds at that.”
“Maybe they would if the kid is on drugs,” Anderson said plainly. “As for Bolivia, maybe that’s just what they told him. As for these charges you’re investigating, you can take my word for it-you’re wasting your time.”
“What about Mercury Morris?” Phelps demanded. “What’s that punk doing out here? Do you consider a former Seventeenth Pulse member and accused murderer and terrorist bomber an appropriate guardian?”
“No, but then again, the operative word, as you said, is ‘former’. So far as I know, he’s their driver. He runs errands, takes them to the doctor when necessary, and takes them on field trips. As far as this other stuff you‘re accusing them of, if you can come up with something concrete, I will gladly listen. In the meantime, there is nothing I can do. I am sorry.”
He stood there silently, giving them a chance to respond while hoping what he said sunk in and anchored to some level of inner acceptance, but neither of the men replied.
“Okay, I have to go,” he concluded. “I’ve been here long enough. Naturally, I’ll keep up with them from time to time, and I’m always open to new information. Honestly, though, gentlemen, I’ve been in this business for more than thirty years now, and I think I can promise you that you are definitely barking up the wrong tree.”
“Very well, Detective Anderson,” Dietrich replied. “Maybe you are right.”
“Goodbye, then,” Anderson said, whereupon he turned to walk toward his vehicle. In disgust, Phelps turned toward his van, only to see the unnerving site of the big black vulture perched on a branch above where he parked the van. It was staring at him knowingly, as though peering inside his soul.
“Where in the hell did that thing come from?” Cruiser asked as he stepped up to the side of Phelps.
Phelps remembered the first time he saw the bird, feeding off the carcass of a dead cow, on a remote part of this property.
“How do you know it’s the same one?” Cruiser asked.
“Believe me, it’s the same one,” he replied as they were suddenly joined by the young girl they had earlier seen with Danny Carter, and who had watched them curiously from the doorway of the house.
“Hello, how are you two doing?” she asked.
Cruiser looked at the girl in heightened awareness that she, of all of the children they had seen, seemed different somehow-perhaps even special. Moreover, something about her was unnervingly familiar.
“Hello, young lady-what is your name, if I might ask?” Cruiser asked.
“Grace Rodescu,” came the reply, and as Cruiser and Phelps looked at each other in shocked awareness, Lieutenant Frank Anderson went driving by them. Grace with a smile cheerfully waved her hand in his direction. She turned back toward the two, but focused her attention on Phelps.
“Have you found what you’re looking for?” she asked.
“I think so,” Phelps replied gravely.
“I’m sorry you had such a hard time there,” she said. “Everything worked out fine in the long run though, huh?”
Phelps didn’t know quite how to respond, and could not hide his obvious shock.
“Well, it’s about time for dinner, so I have to go join the others. I do hope the two of you will come see me again.”
She smiled winsomely at the pair, and then turned and bounded off toward the house.
“I don’t believe this for a minute,” Cruiser said.
“Yes, you do,” Phelps replied. “Come on-let’s get the hell out of here.”
They climbed inside the van as the vulture made its way now toward the roof of the house, from whence it perched and gazed in their direction. As Phelps started up the van, Cruiser extracted the napkin from his blazer pocket.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“I’m almost sure this is blood, and some gore,” he said. “I’m going to have it tested, and if it turns out to be what I think it is, Anderson will have to listen. If he doesn’t, somebody will.”
“I wouldn’t count on that if I were you,” Phelps replied as he pulled out onto the little narrow road. He wanted to get away from there as quickly as he could. As he drove, the vulture followed above them, but suddenly veered off to the left, and toward a clearing in the thick woods, where the two bodies waited.
Cynthia dove down onto the closest body, the one of the man, and hungrily tore into his rotting corpse. She was hungry, and this afternoon, she would dine well.
Links to Previous Chapters
Part One
Prologue and Chapters I-X
Part Two
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
PartThree
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Chapter XXXI
Chapter XXXII
Chapter XXXIII
Chapter XXXIV
Chapter XXXV
Chapter XXXVI
Chapter XXXVII
Chapter XXXVIII
Chapter XXXIX
Chapter XXXX
Chapter XXXXI
Chapter XXXXII
Chapter XXXXIII
Chapter XXXXIV
Chapter XXXXV
Chapter XXXXVI
Sunday, June 01, 2008
One For The Road
Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, and sometimes you pull out in front of the wrong driver, after which guards have to restrain you from going over into the offending driver’s assigned pit stop at the Indianapolis 500 and giving the entire team pure hell.
Unfortunately, Danica Patrick will have to wait another year to see the culminations of her dreams, as the first ever woman Indy driver, in becoming the first ever woman Indy winner. I hope she makes it, not only because she is a woman but, sexist that I am, because she is just so goddamn drop dead gorgeous.
She needs to keep her sense of perspective, though. She is already a groundbreaker and pioneer, and there is always next year.
The Importance Of Epilogues
Epilogues in novels are more than mere throwaway chapters of little importance. They serve to wind things down following a climax, which is useful after a particularly dramatic, hair-raising, and blood-curdling ending. The absence of an epilogue would make the endings of such novels far too abrupt, and ultimately unsatisfying.
At the same time, one should not construe an epilogue as a chapter in its own right. It should not detract from the ending, or from the book as a whole. It has become fashionable over the last three decades, especially in horror novels and movies, to use the epilogue to negate the entirety of the resolution of the novel. The sadistic killer suddenly rises from the lake in which we believed he finally perished, the vicious monster leaves behind recently hatched eggs, the werewolf’s legacy carries on in the person of a previous surviving victim, etc.
There is some value in this approach, but it has become redundant. Novels and movies should portray some semblance to real life, however fantastical their subject matter. Therefore, it is realistic to portray the reality of evil as never completely vanquished or destroyed. There is no happily ever after. By the same token, there should be some validation in the novels main resolution. Although the evil will rise again, there will be an opposing force on the side of good-however imperfect-that will be ready at some point to meet it head on.
I used this approach when developing the epilogue to Radu, which I will publish shortly, in a day or two. I avoided the urge to write it as a throwaway chapter with no other point than to simply wind things down, and in so doing, I ended up very satisfied with it. There are no shocking revelations from the standpoint of the reader. That is not the purpose, or should not be, of an epilogue. Still, it serves its purpose admirably, when done correctly, somewhat like a nice dessert following the main course of a meal, or maybe an after dinner mint. It is not by any stretch the most important part of the dining experience, so to speak. Nevertheless, it just would not be the same without it.
At the same time, one should not construe an epilogue as a chapter in its own right. It should not detract from the ending, or from the book as a whole. It has become fashionable over the last three decades, especially in horror novels and movies, to use the epilogue to negate the entirety of the resolution of the novel. The sadistic killer suddenly rises from the lake in which we believed he finally perished, the vicious monster leaves behind recently hatched eggs, the werewolf’s legacy carries on in the person of a previous surviving victim, etc.
There is some value in this approach, but it has become redundant. Novels and movies should portray some semblance to real life, however fantastical their subject matter. Therefore, it is realistic to portray the reality of evil as never completely vanquished or destroyed. There is no happily ever after. By the same token, there should be some validation in the novels main resolution. Although the evil will rise again, there will be an opposing force on the side of good-however imperfect-that will be ready at some point to meet it head on.
I used this approach when developing the epilogue to Radu, which I will publish shortly, in a day or two. I avoided the urge to write it as a throwaway chapter with no other point than to simply wind things down, and in so doing, I ended up very satisfied with it. There are no shocking revelations from the standpoint of the reader. That is not the purpose, or should not be, of an epilogue. Still, it serves its purpose admirably, when done correctly, somewhat like a nice dessert following the main course of a meal, or maybe an after dinner mint. It is not by any stretch the most important part of the dining experience, so to speak. Nevertheless, it just would not be the same without it.
Half Votes For Michigan-Florida Democrats
One of those Michigan half-voters on his way to the polls
But seriously, folks-
I can't help but feel their pain.
As long as both Democrats and Republicans allow both Iowa and New Hampshire to exercise such inordinate influence on the presidential candidate selection process, then every single one of us can legitimately proclaim, to paraphrase President John F. Kennedy-
"I, too, am a half-voter."
But seriously, folks-
I can't help but feel their pain.
As long as both Democrats and Republicans allow both Iowa and New Hampshire to exercise such inordinate influence on the presidential candidate selection process, then every single one of us can legitimately proclaim, to paraphrase President John F. Kennedy-
"I, too, am a half-voter."
The mystery has been solved. Stonehenge was a burial center, probably for an elite royal family that ruled a large portion of Southern England. They were cremated and their skeletal remains interred there beginning about 3300 BC, until after the complex was finally completed around 2500 BC-around the same date, incidentally, when the Great Pyramid was constructed.
Another interesting fact is that both of these complexes seem to be positioned in such a way that their positions coincide in some manner with the appearance and position of the sun during the summer solstice, which might hint at a widespread, if not nearly universal, religious mindset of the time. To the ancients, astronomical phenomena were of the utmost importance, so this is not a surprise, nor does it speak to any kind of unifying worldwide theology. Far from it. It does, however, point out the importance to ancient peoples of this era of the use of astronomical date in their daily lives, in this era when agriculture was the predominant way of life.
As for the royal family, it won't be long before you will be hearing theories as to identification with the Arthurian legends. While there may be some degree of validity to this, any kind of solid proof is unlikely. On the other hand, this had to be a powerful dynasty, to have the authority to compel the dragging of these large stones for more than twenty miles at least to their ultimate resting place.
Nor should this be interpreted as a repudiation of the current view of Stonehenge as a place of magic and religious practices. It was long ago proven that Stonehenge predates the Druids with whom the complex was originally identified by at least a thousand year. Bear in mind, however, that we do not really know how the Druids or the people of their day looked at Stonehenge. Perhaps they viewed the place pretty much as the way we see them doing so in the popular current imagination. They might have been as clueless as we were as to it's origins, and might well have used it as an astronomical and/or ritual place some thousand years plus after it's original construction.
The most disturbing thing about this story is that, though these skeletal remains were in large part unearthed more than fifty years ago, all but three of them were thrown away. King Arthur might well be spinning in his grave. Well, or in some landfill somewhere.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Strict Interpretations
Some people might have the wrong impression that I am a supporter of Barak Obama, based on my defense of him in the context of certain areas, the most obvious example being the Reverend Wright controversy. In truth, I am a supporter of no candidate. I did not vote in the primary, and I am highly unlikely to vote in the general election.
That said, I am trying to view all candidates as objectively and fairly as it is possible for me to do. There is not a lot to defend, unfortunately, as you might expect from one who declares his intention to boycott an election. When I see an opportunity, I jump at it. After all, as someone who wants to encourage others not to vote, I need the street creds.
Therefore, it is only appropriate that I draw attention to those other areas that call out for criticism, and Barak Obama’s recent appraisal of his potential Supreme Court appointees would be one such example.
There’s not a lot to say, except that he is obviously pandering to the voters when he says he will appoint judges who are empathetic to the needs and concerns of first one group or another. He ended with the “elderly”, and seemed quite uncomfortable as he spoke the word, doubtless aware that it is the elderly who have handed him his hat in some of those primary contests he has lost.
Here’s a thought for you, Obama. Try appointing judges who are empathetic to the words of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights-you know, the way they are written in PLAIN FUCKING ENGLISH!!!!
That said, I am trying to view all candidates as objectively and fairly as it is possible for me to do. There is not a lot to defend, unfortunately, as you might expect from one who declares his intention to boycott an election. When I see an opportunity, I jump at it. After all, as someone who wants to encourage others not to vote, I need the street creds.
Therefore, it is only appropriate that I draw attention to those other areas that call out for criticism, and Barak Obama’s recent appraisal of his potential Supreme Court appointees would be one such example.
There’s not a lot to say, except that he is obviously pandering to the voters when he says he will appoint judges who are empathetic to the needs and concerns of first one group or another. He ended with the “elderly”, and seemed quite uncomfortable as he spoke the word, doubtless aware that it is the elderly who have handed him his hat in some of those primary contests he has lost.
Here’s a thought for you, Obama. Try appointing judges who are empathetic to the words of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights-you know, the way they are written in PLAIN FUCKING ENGLISH!!!!
Obama Leaves Church Not A Moment Too Soon-But Is He Too Late?
It has just been announced that Barak Obama has resigned as a member of Trinity Church, which he attended for more than twenty years, and where he was married and he and his children were baptized. The recent statements of visiting Priest Father Pfleger seem to have been the final straw. SOme might say such a move is self-serving, but it is appropriate nonetheless
It’s one thing for a guy like Jeremiah Wright to get up in the pulpit on a Sunday and preach “God Damn America”-pastors of all stripes, liberal and conservative, do that all the time. In Wright’s case, and in all other such cases, it’s vile and sickening-and for that matter, it approaches psychotic.
When a guy like Pfleger stands up in the church and, in the midst of a “sermon”, takes any kind of stand during a political campaign in favor of one candidate over another even in mild terms, he has suddenly brazenly defied the constitution. People whom I would ordinarily consider jack-booted thugs now have every right to march into the middle of the assembly, arrest this perpetrator-in addition to any who might rise to object to his arrest-and padlock the doors of the church. If in the meantime the building ends up burning to the ground, well, that might just be a happy “accident”.
I’ll just come out and say it-at least one church somewhere straddles the line in one way or another every Sunday morning. However, they do so generally in the context of the ills of society and the need for individuals and families to be aware of the sin around them that is or might be part of their lives and how it affects them, as well as how it is encouraged by certain elements of society-including the government at times.
Pfleger, however, did far more than approach the line and dare the other side to cross. He jumped back and forth across the line and motioned his listeners to follow him over it.
What Pfleger’s rant against Hilary Clinton had to do with the Gospel of Jesus Christ-in the doctrine of salvation through grace by way of faith in the crucifixion of Christ, in the shedding of his blood, his burial and resurrection, and the concept of forgiveness of sins-seems to be beyond my meager faculties of comprehension.
Nor was there any kind of social critique that made his screed in any way redeemable. It was nothing in fact but a rage against white people, from a white guy, by the way, that looks and sounds like twenty years ago he would probably be jamming to Vanilla Ice or NWA, flashing gang signs, and saying “Yo Dog, dig it,” twenty times a day.
He’s not the only one to do this kind of thing. He’s neither the first nor will he be the last. There are preachers, priests, and rabbis of all political persuasions who do this kind of stuff, to one degree or another. Black churches are among the worse offenders. I have known-and admittedly, this is anecdotal, but I have no reason to doubt it-of some black churches in which political pamphlets shared space on tables with spiritual tracts and church programs.
In some cases, it would seem that the people most inclined to rage to the heavens about separation of church and state just happen to be the worse offenders. Well, they are breaking what is among the most sacrosanct of secular laws, and in my humble opinion, that law needs to smash them like a rock.
Nor should it stop with them. It’s high time the federal government exercised its legitimate powers in enforcing the constitution and the Bill of Rights and put all of its offenders to the rack. There are a handful of mosques, especially in the heavier populated urban areas, that could probably stand a good spring-cleaning as well.
Left too long unattended, garbage begins to pile up, until it mildews and rots, whereupon it stinks and draws maggots and rodents. It’s high time we took out the garbage. In fact, it’s way past time.
It’s one thing for a guy like Jeremiah Wright to get up in the pulpit on a Sunday and preach “God Damn America”-pastors of all stripes, liberal and conservative, do that all the time. In Wright’s case, and in all other such cases, it’s vile and sickening-and for that matter, it approaches psychotic.
When a guy like Pfleger stands up in the church and, in the midst of a “sermon”, takes any kind of stand during a political campaign in favor of one candidate over another even in mild terms, he has suddenly brazenly defied the constitution. People whom I would ordinarily consider jack-booted thugs now have every right to march into the middle of the assembly, arrest this perpetrator-in addition to any who might rise to object to his arrest-and padlock the doors of the church. If in the meantime the building ends up burning to the ground, well, that might just be a happy “accident”.
I’ll just come out and say it-at least one church somewhere straddles the line in one way or another every Sunday morning. However, they do so generally in the context of the ills of society and the need for individuals and families to be aware of the sin around them that is or might be part of their lives and how it affects them, as well as how it is encouraged by certain elements of society-including the government at times.
Pfleger, however, did far more than approach the line and dare the other side to cross. He jumped back and forth across the line and motioned his listeners to follow him over it.
What Pfleger’s rant against Hilary Clinton had to do with the Gospel of Jesus Christ-in the doctrine of salvation through grace by way of faith in the crucifixion of Christ, in the shedding of his blood, his burial and resurrection, and the concept of forgiveness of sins-seems to be beyond my meager faculties of comprehension.
Nor was there any kind of social critique that made his screed in any way redeemable. It was nothing in fact but a rage against white people, from a white guy, by the way, that looks and sounds like twenty years ago he would probably be jamming to Vanilla Ice or NWA, flashing gang signs, and saying “Yo Dog, dig it,” twenty times a day.
He’s not the only one to do this kind of thing. He’s neither the first nor will he be the last. There are preachers, priests, and rabbis of all political persuasions who do this kind of stuff, to one degree or another. Black churches are among the worse offenders. I have known-and admittedly, this is anecdotal, but I have no reason to doubt it-of some black churches in which political pamphlets shared space on tables with spiritual tracts and church programs.
In some cases, it would seem that the people most inclined to rage to the heavens about separation of church and state just happen to be the worse offenders. Well, they are breaking what is among the most sacrosanct of secular laws, and in my humble opinion, that law needs to smash them like a rock.
Nor should it stop with them. It’s high time the federal government exercised its legitimate powers in enforcing the constitution and the Bill of Rights and put all of its offenders to the rack. There are a handful of mosques, especially in the heavier populated urban areas, that could probably stand a good spring-cleaning as well.
Left too long unattended, garbage begins to pile up, until it mildews and rots, whereupon it stinks and draws maggots and rodents. It’s high time we took out the garbage. In fact, it’s way past time.
Matches Made In Hell-Or Maybe In Workers Paradise?
Is Naomi Campbell a stupid fucking cunt, or what? Here this hot-tempered bitch is, throwing phones at people’s heads, sued for assault by former employees, enduring the humiliation of court-ordered community service, and lately, in trouble yet again for assault, this time directed against police officers at Heathrow Airport, following a flare-up against airline personnel over misplaced luggage. Now, she is putting herself into a potentially explosive position.
Lately she has been in the company of, and presumably dating, Christophe Raccancourt, a man who has lived as a con artist passing himself off to Hollywood elites as a member of European royalty, for which he earned prosecution and a seven-year prison sentence. Incredibly, he was Naomi’s date at the Cannes Film Festival.
If this continues, you don’t have to be Nostradamus to see a sidewalk in this bug’s future, from the perspective of-oh, say about twenty stories.
In the meantime, Campbell, who recently interviewed Venezuelan Prime Minister Hugo Chavez for GQ Magazine, has denied rumos of an affair with the South American strongman, which is actually somewhat unfortunate. She would probably end up ripping out that little shrimp’s throat.
Have You Hugged Your Kid Today?
A long time ago, politicians learned how to farm outrage as a method to grow political power. That is nothing new, and has gone on since long before the days of the US, probably since before the dawn of recorded history. Over the last few decades, they hit on a winning formula-child abuse, especially child sexual abuse. This was the rationale given for the invasion of the Waco religious cult. It is the same rationale given for the taking away from Mormon parents of their children in another Texas community.
Of course, sometimes shit backfires. What happened at Waco was a call to arms for many Americans, but aside from the attack on the federal building at Oklahoma City by Timothy McVeigh, nobody did much of anything except complain.
Now, a federal appeals court has declared the seizure of Mormon children was unjustified. They will soon return to their parents, who nevertheless face some restrictions as to travel outside a sixty-mile radius, in addition to a requirement to attend “parenting classes”. They are still trying to sort this case out in the meantime.
The whole case is a sham, a political creation based on a sham-the woman who made the call to the authorities is a scam artist with a bone to pick. She pretended to be a teenage sect member in fear for her safety, yet she actually made the call from where she lived in Colorado. This brings up a whole other question. Doesn’t the state and county authorities of Texas have caller ID? Of course, they recorded the call, but apparently not the place of origin, which is also suspicious.
Most of these LDS branch cults actually stay within the law. Contrary to popular belief, most males within these sects have only one wife-only one, that is, recognized by law. All the other “wives” the man might take are, technically, concubines. This in itself is legal. Other sect members, of course, recognize the relationships as spiritual marriages. As such, this binds the husband in the eyes of the sect as much as in a legal marriage. Moreover, the sect views the children of such concubines as every bit the legitimate heirs of the husband and father as they do the children of his first and legal wife.
Of course, this does create an atmosphere in which the sect members find themselves secluded from the outside world, and this can lead to the potential for abuse. This is where the state comes in. Unfortunately, for the state, the abuse in the Texas state, so far as can proven, is the exception and not the rule. That is assuming there is any abuse at all, which is questionable. After all, as far as I know, no arrests have been made, and for the most part this seems to be a matter of guilt by association. Convicted pedophile Warren Jeffs is the “Prophet”, thus leader, of the sect.
They are a strange group, to be sure. The women dress in pioneer type clothing, wear no make-up, and wear their hair in buns, in what seems to be a calculated effort to desexualize their appearance in order to lessen the potential for lust among the men. For the most part, they seem to be happy and content with their lives, love their children to whom they are devoted, and are madder than hell at the authorities, yet understandably though still remarkably restrained in their public utterances.
Now that the State of Texas has stirred this hornet’s nest, here they are trying to herd all of them back to the hive. They are making that attempt now, while pretending to insure to the safety of the children and the fitness of the parents. After the next election, all of this will fade into the ether.
They seem to have jumped the gun when adhering to the words of a handful of disgruntled former members. After all, there are disgruntled members and former members of just about everything. The state of Texas may have made a fatal error in concluding that their word was sacrosanct. It’s too damn bad they rarely if ever pay such heed to the views of disgruntled former voters.
Scott McClelland And The Politics Of Magical Thinking
Why are so many people mad at Scott McClellan? Bob Dole, for just one example, is mad enough to spit nails, and in fact he pretty much did just that. Yet, McClellan is only saying what most people already know, that George W. Bush is a stubborn man who cannot be dissuaded once he makes his mind up as to the correctness of his position, and he has a tendency to believe his own spin-propaganda, in other words. Of course, not only is the Bush Administration and its supporters mad at McClellan, it would seem a good many members of the media are on the defensive as well, due to their roles during the opening days and phases of the Iraq War.
In other words, although they have refined their positions over the course of the following years, at the time in question they acted to a degree, in some cases, more like cheerleaders than objective journalists, even though they should have discerned that the run-up to the war amounted to-
*Selling the American people a bill of goods by and on behalf of influential people within or in some way connected to the Administration.
*Partisan politics.
*Last but not least, what amounts to simply hard-core ideological purposes.
If you hear about Scott McClellan driving off the edge of a cliff or jumping out of a seven story window sometime over the course of the next several months, don’t be real surprised. I have a feeling there are a few people with either high positions or strong connections to the current administration that have a great deal to hide, pertaining to this and quite a few other matters. McClellan sets a bad example, from their perspective. An unfortunately tragic “accident” would send a clear signal-if you don’t have anything nice to say, shut the fuck up.
More than a few within the mainstream media seem to have adopted that attitude early on in the run-up to the Iraq War. Now they have to live with the consequences-as do we all.
McClellan’s book, even if viewed as the perspective of a disgruntled former presidential staff member, does not so much lay bare previously hidden facts as it positively affirms what has been in clear view for at least some three years now.
For the most part, while the Bush Administration was using a complacent media to sell us on the shock and awe, we all fell for the shuck and jive.
The worse part of it is, it was probably unnecessary. At the time, the American public largely would have supported any effort to remove Saddam Hussein. The Democratic Party would have been hard pressed to stand in the way. Instead of using a legitimate pretext-such as the myriads of UN resolutions that Saddam violated again and again, his clear intent on building a WMD complex at some point, his support for Palestinian suicide bombers by way of cash awards to their families, the constant shooting at our jets over the No-Fly Zone, etc.-Bush used Colin Powell to present, with dramatic flair, flawed evidence of the existence of chemical and biological weapons capabilities in addition to actively seeking uranium for purposes of enrichment.
In the meantime, all such evidence to the contrary was either ignored or buried. Now, it is what it is. We followed the drumbeat that led us to the bandwagon, and we threw ourselves under the wheels. McClelland was, at a pivotal moment in history, the little drummer boy for a delusional and messianic vision of a Middle East where chaos is supposed to pave the way for lasting peace and prosperity.
I don’t go so far as to say this book is an attempt at making amends, and that money is not a primary consideration. That would be every bit as delusional. On the other hand, that makes it no less worthwhile. At some point along the road, Scott McClellan took a good look in the mirror, and saw the face of Baghdad Bob staring back at him.
However self-serving it might be, I for one want to hear what he has to say. He'll be on Meet The Press this Sunday. Russert might want to take notes. Then again, he really doesn't have to.
In other words, although they have refined their positions over the course of the following years, at the time in question they acted to a degree, in some cases, more like cheerleaders than objective journalists, even though they should have discerned that the run-up to the war amounted to-
*Selling the American people a bill of goods by and on behalf of influential people within or in some way connected to the Administration.
*Partisan politics.
*Last but not least, what amounts to simply hard-core ideological purposes.
If you hear about Scott McClellan driving off the edge of a cliff or jumping out of a seven story window sometime over the course of the next several months, don’t be real surprised. I have a feeling there are a few people with either high positions or strong connections to the current administration that have a great deal to hide, pertaining to this and quite a few other matters. McClellan sets a bad example, from their perspective. An unfortunately tragic “accident” would send a clear signal-if you don’t have anything nice to say, shut the fuck up.
More than a few within the mainstream media seem to have adopted that attitude early on in the run-up to the Iraq War. Now they have to live with the consequences-as do we all.
McClellan’s book, even if viewed as the perspective of a disgruntled former presidential staff member, does not so much lay bare previously hidden facts as it positively affirms what has been in clear view for at least some three years now.
For the most part, while the Bush Administration was using a complacent media to sell us on the shock and awe, we all fell for the shuck and jive.
The worse part of it is, it was probably unnecessary. At the time, the American public largely would have supported any effort to remove Saddam Hussein. The Democratic Party would have been hard pressed to stand in the way. Instead of using a legitimate pretext-such as the myriads of UN resolutions that Saddam violated again and again, his clear intent on building a WMD complex at some point, his support for Palestinian suicide bombers by way of cash awards to their families, the constant shooting at our jets over the No-Fly Zone, etc.-Bush used Colin Powell to present, with dramatic flair, flawed evidence of the existence of chemical and biological weapons capabilities in addition to actively seeking uranium for purposes of enrichment.
In the meantime, all such evidence to the contrary was either ignored or buried. Now, it is what it is. We followed the drumbeat that led us to the bandwagon, and we threw ourselves under the wheels. McClelland was, at a pivotal moment in history, the little drummer boy for a delusional and messianic vision of a Middle East where chaos is supposed to pave the way for lasting peace and prosperity.
I don’t go so far as to say this book is an attempt at making amends, and that money is not a primary consideration. That would be every bit as delusional. On the other hand, that makes it no less worthwhile. At some point along the road, Scott McClellan took a good look in the mirror, and saw the face of Baghdad Bob staring back at him.
However self-serving it might be, I for one want to hear what he has to say. He'll be on Meet The Press this Sunday. Russert might want to take notes. Then again, he really doesn't have to.
Friday, May 30, 2008
What's Wrong With This Picture?
It's a picture of some naked kids, two of them apparently restraining another one, one might legitimately assume for the purpose of sexual assault. Ordinarily this would not bother me, except that this is just one of many such works by Australian photographer Bill Henson-whose exposition has recently been banned in Australia-and these children are live models.
I don't know how much money their parents were paid (probably not that much) but where would they draw the line whebn it comes to financial inducements? Being no prude by any stretch of the imagination, I am no fan of censorship. Still, I hold the Aussies made the right call here. At the very least, they had the right, and even the responsibility, to investigate.
This blogger put it best-art is not above the law.
Hat Tip-Sonia Belle
Somebody Better Keep An Eye On Her Fur
Lindsay Lohan is probably a lesbian-she just doesn’t want you to know it. I don’t know why. Check out this picture of her with "good friend" Samantha Ronson. I have no doubt as to who plays the “man” role. Why do I have this strange idea that she just loves seafood?
Lindsay’s father is backtracking on an earlier assertion that the relationship of the two is obvious. Little Lindsay probably threw a fit. Come on, Lindsay-admit it. I mean, it’s not like we guys would no longer want to hit that one time when we catch you out drunk as a skunk.
Besides, we might even want to watch the two of you rolling around all over each other.
Then again, maybe not, but it doesn’t matter what I want or don't want. I predict that before the year is out, either Lindsay or somebody like her will be arrested for engaging in public sex-and of course we’ll all just eat it up.
And with that last statement, I think I just succeeded in making myself sick.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
What Will You Do For Carbon Belch Day?
Carbon Belch Day? Shit, I celebrate that all the time. Every day around here is carbon belch day.
The way I look at it, Mother Nature will eventually even things out. She has a way of restoring the balance of nature more effectively than we ever could, which would make it a win-win all the way around. Well, unless you like the idea of being one of eventually twenty billion or more tree dwellers reduced to fishing for termites as a delicacy. Me, not so much.
Why worry? Fire up that barbecue grill before it costs you a month’s wages. Treat yourself while it isn’t illegal.
In the meantime, I nominate Lexington Kentucky for the honorary title of “Carbon Belch Capitol of The World”.
The way I look at it, Mother Nature will eventually even things out. She has a way of restoring the balance of nature more effectively than we ever could, which would make it a win-win all the way around. Well, unless you like the idea of being one of eventually twenty billion or more tree dwellers reduced to fishing for termites as a delicacy. Me, not so much.
Why worry? Fire up that barbecue grill before it costs you a month’s wages. Treat yourself while it isn’t illegal.
In the meantime, I nominate Lexington Kentucky for the honorary title of “Carbon Belch Capitol of The World”.
A Little Bit Of Historical Detective Work Pays Off
Obama: "I had an uncle who was one of the -- who was part of the first American troops to go into Auschwitz and liberate the concentration camps. And the story in our family was is that when he came home, he just went up into the attic and he didn't leave the house for six months. Right, now, obviously, something had really affected him deeply. But at that time, there just weren't the kinds of facilities to help somebody work through that kind of pain." (Sen. Barack Obama, Remarks On Memorial Day).
I've looked high and low, but I think I might have finally found him.
I'm pretty sure it's the guy on the far left. What y'all think?
I've looked high and low, but I think I might have finally found him.
I'm pretty sure it's the guy on the far left. What y'all think?
Saturday, May 24, 2008
A Memorial Day Irony
Memorial Day was originally an occasion to celebrate the sacrifice of fallen soldiers, but quickly evolved into an occasion for the remembrance of all those who have passed on. Families visit cemeteries and decorate the graves of their deceased family and relatives, while politicians give the expected speeches lauding the sacrifice of soldiers felled in foreign wars.
To most people, in reality, it is just another holiday, a chance to take off work with pay and visit family, perhaps have a backyard barbeque or picnic, maybe attend a parade-just for something to do.
Most of the dead are just that-dead, and for the most part, forgotten.
I find it ironic in the extreme that, over the course of this holiday, Senator Edward M. Kennedy is being hailed as some kind of great and noble national figure and leader, while the girl whose death he caused now some forty years ago has long been forgotten. Oh, sure, people bring her up and discuss the tragedy of Chappaquiddick, and they usually do so as a means of haranguing Kennedy, which actually was and remains the appropriate thing to do.
This, however, is not doing full justice to the memory of Mary Jo Kopechne. Nothing can approach justice for this tragically fallen woman as long as the true nature of her passing remains shrouded in darkness. Unfortunately, Kennedy will never tell the whole story. If he did, he could be prosecuted, but not for murder-nor, more than likely, even for manslaughter, for that matter.
What I believe happened to Mary Jo Kopechne seems clear to me, even obvious. Unfortunately, political partisanship on both sides has kept the truth, ironically, submerged.
The obvious fact as I believe it to be-when Mary Jo Kopechne went off that bridge into the murky waters of the tidal pond below, she was in that car alone. Senator Edward Kennedy was nowhere in the car, and in fact may have been too far away to hear the car fatefully crash onto the water’s surface.
This next point is an important one to consider-
KENNEDY MIGHT NOT HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THE ACCIDENT UNTIL HOURS AFTER IT HAPPENED-UNTIL, IN FACT, SOMEONE ELSE DISCOVERED THE ACCIDENT!
It would certainly explain the awkward and unlikely response and the unbelievable explanation, which to this day seems like something that somebody made up in a perfunctory manner, with not a lot of thought put into it. Although I could never hope to prove it, what I believe happened was the following-
Kennedy was out with Kopechne, was drunk, and as most would suspect, made a move on the girl. He might possibly have attempted to rape her. He might have actually succeeded in doing so. What I am sure of is, he tried, and became in his drunken state obnoxious and forceful, perhaps even verbally and physically abusive and, I have no doubt, potentially if not actually violent.
At some point, with the car parked, but possibly still running, Kopechne jumped out of the automobile, whereupon Kennedy pursued her. He caught up to her, and they argued, whereupon Kopechne, pushing Kennedy away from her, caused him to fall and hit his head. This explains the one and only visible injury Kennedy received-a slightly swollen bump and cut on the head. While he was yet down on the ground, drunk and disoriented, possibly even at this point semi-unconscious, she jumped into his vehicle and drove away.
The rest is history, albeit shadowy.
This was 1969, of course, and Kennedy knew he could not tell this story and retain any hope of salvaging his political career, to say nothing of his marriage, while simultaneously limiting his criminal liability. Therefore, he tried to establish as good an alibi as he could come up with in the short amount of time that he had. On the face of it, it looks ridiculous, but the people of Massachusetts swallowed it. They wanted to believe it, even if most in truth could not. Kopechne’s own parents, it would seem, falls into this category. They remained a supporter of Kennedy, at least publicly. They never pushed the affair beyond the initial investigatory phase, while the people of Massachusetts were never interested enough to warrant it being an issue in any of Kennedy’s re-election campaigns.
Nowadays, Kennedy talks about sailing and boating, or other such water related references, with no apparent sense of irony. That is because, in his own mind, he did nothing wrong. At least, he did not do what a large portion of the American public honestly believes that he did. Why should he feel guilty about an unwarranted charge of manslaughter? Why should he care about the drowning death of a young girl of which he obviously was not directly to blame? His conscience is clear. He only wanted a piece of that ass, and if she had not overreacted, she would be alive today. I honestly believe this is how he rationalizes it. I have no doubt that, to his way of thinking, she was “sending mixed signals” and “leading him on”, so to speak.
(Correction-I made a common mistake here, though I actually know better. Kopechne did not drown. She died of suffocation when the oxygen in the air pocket, in which she placed herself within the submerged vehicle, finally dissipated. She may have actually lived for several hours).
Of course, Kennedy is now among the most vociferous supporters of the liberal feminist movement, and the entirety of their agenda. It is easy to conclude he does so in so vociferously a manner out of some sense of guilt. For their part, I have the strange idea that at least most of the more radical feminists would secretly like to see Kennedy chemically castrated. Be that as it may, Kennedy goes on about his business, this so-called “Lion of The Senate”. In true Catholic fashion, he purchases his own brand of absolution by way pursuing his legislative agenda. He reaches across the aisle when necessary in order to forge the friendships and alliances he needs, all the time devoting his career to the task at hand, as he makes vain attempts to soothe his damaged psyche, applying his influence and the power of his office as though they were healing balms to his ruptured conscience.
All the while, he stands up for the minorities, the dispossessed, the “little guy”, and all of those who just can’t seem to help themselves, while sticking it to everybody else-especially to people much like himself, it would seem-in a not so nearly magnanimous fashion.
When he harangues a potential court appointee, for example, particularly one whom he feels might pose a threat to his notions of progress made in the arena of women’s rights, the more discerning among us wonder in awe at his capacity for projection-this mouse that roars.
When Robert Byrd stood up on the floor of the Senate and spoke of the illness of his “dear friend Ted”, crying as he did so, it was a form of low comedy, yet another case of projection of the fears of mortality onto one who seems ironically to have neither fear nor shame. Media luminaries laud him. Both Barak Obama and John McCain have expressed their concerns, and their well wishes for his speedy recovery. Even Hillary Clinton, whose own campaign suffered a fatal symbolic dive off a bridge following Kennedy’s endorsement of Obama, in surrealist fashion refers to Kennedy as a friend.
We are all supposed to play along and buy into this media promotion of Edward M. Kennedy as the idealistic ”liberal lion of the Senate”, and take it at face value when pundits promote him as a man of character and integrity, a man who has been a devoted, tireless public servant. They ignore-or more accurately, they neglect to point out-just in what direction his devotion lies, but one might ponder his second and current wife as a symbol of his life and beliefs. She is a pro-gun control attorney, devoted to ensuring a “common sense solution” to the problem of kids and guns-which probably means making sure, by any means necessary, that none of the rest of us have access to them "for the good of the kids", lest they get their hands on them.
That, then, is the legacy of Edward Kennedy, both literally and figuratively married to the concept of the application of strict limits to the freedom of Americans, based on a faulty premise-that we need protection from ourselves. What we really need is protection from the likes of Edward Moore Kennedy, but for now, we will listen politely while media pundits and self-serving politicos sing his praises and wish him a safe and speedy recovery. Many Americans, of course, will join in those expressions, just as many have brought into the Kennedy myth, and the Kennedy lies, for the past forty years.
The rest of us prefer to ponder the lost life of a young, idealistic, hopeful, yet unfortunately naive young girl who wanted to make a better world-a magical, mythical world, much like Camelot-and ended up sucked too deep into the same old lie.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Obama And Kentucky-It's The Liberalism, Stupid!
Obama did everything he could think of to decrease the margin of Hillary Clitnon's expected win in the Kentucky primary last Tuesday, short of donning a fringe leather jacket and a coonskin cap and killing a bear with his trusty musket. He opened three times as many offices in the state, and sent out fliers asserting his belief in Christianity. One such flier depicted him standing with a large cross in the background. It was an effort he probably realized was doomed to failure, which is why he made only one appearance in the state-and which was the real reason he lost by such a large margin.
True, he would have handily lost anyway. I concede that this would have been due, in large measure, to both racism and to perceptions, still widely believed by many, that Barak Obama is a Muslim. Nevertheless, I hold that, while it is obvious that these were factors with a segment of Kentucky Democratic voters, they make up a minority of those who voted against Obama.
Had he addressed these concerns directly, and especially had he appeared more in the state, he might have whittled Hillary's margin down to just a little bit more than ten percent, but certainly not under that amount. It is highly doubtful he would have pulled within twenty percentage points, actually.
The real major reason for this, however, is not racism or concerns about Islam. While these concerns, I repeat, were doubtless factors with a segment of the voting populace, they were not the most important considerations. The major reasons are as follows-
1. Hillary Clinton campaigned extensively in the state, making appearances at such venues as Covington's May Fest, among others, while both Bill and Chelsea also campaigned tirelessly and extensively across the state. Bill even appeared in front of the Madison County Courthouse. They gave the vast majority of the people of Kentucky their first and possibly last chance to see a former President of the United States, or a major candidate.
This is in fact the first time Kentucky has been a factor in a Presidential nominating contest. The Clintons played it for all it was worth, while Obama passed up a golden opportunity-not so much to win this primary, but to pave the way for instilling some good will for the upcoming general election, when these votes will be all the more important.
2. The Clintons are very popular with rank-and-file Kentucky Democrats, at least among those who are dependable and regular voters. Bill Clinton won the state twice and is now fondly remembered by them, for the most part.
3. There is a perception that Barak Obama is the most liberal member of the Senate. Whether this is true or not is irrelevant. The fact is, that is the perception, and perception translates into votes. This in fact might well be the most important consideration of all. Kentuckians, for the most part, are moderate to conservative.
Where Obama is considered a liberal, Hillary Clinton is perceived as more left of center.
It is really unfair to lump all Kentucky Democrats, or Kentuckians in general, as racists based on the fact that Hillary Clinton, the centrist wife of a popular former President, defeated the black candidate-who was all but absent from the state during the campaign while she, her popular husband, and well-liked daughter traversed practically every corner of the state non-stop.
Most of the same Kentucky Democrats who voted against Obama, being as I said politically moderate to conservative, rejected Obama largely on those grounds. By the same token, a great many of them-maybe even most of them-would have had no problem crossing party lines to vote for a J C Watts or an Alan Keyes.
For that matter, even more Kentucky Democrats might well jump at the chance to vote for a Democratic political moderate such as Harold Ford Jr. In all the above cases, it would depend on who their opponent was. It would by and large depend on their stands on the issues, not their race.
If one of those candidates were to run a credible race in Kentucky, with a credible chance of winning (unlike Keyes in his current quixotic bid) and did well, or even won, the same people trashing Kentucky by throwing out the race card now would be screaming "Uncle Tom".
So just who are the racists?
It is easy for CNN to go to the most destitute places in Kentucky with a film crew and portray such a depressed area as one small part of Clay County as typical of the state. Honesty and integrity does not come easily to these purveyors of political pornography, it seems. Their point seems to be that the entire state of Kentucky is a state full of ignorant, uneducated rednecks-how could they not be racist?
The real question to be asked is how could one expect an unbiased and objective analysis of the recent Democratic Kentucky primary from the likes of this bunch? I am, sadly, not surprised in the least.
John McCain, although already the Republican Party presumptive nominee, won his contest with 72% of the vote. In other words, 28% of Kentucky Republican voters took the time and trouble to go to the polls to vote against the man who has already won his party's nomination.
So I guess that means a large percentage of Kentucky Republicans hate the elderly? Or maybe they just despise old military veterans? No, I have the strange idea they merely expressed their disapproval of John McCain because, in fact, John McCain is a known RINO.
Why try to invent an alternate reality when the one we have tells us all you need to know?
True, he would have handily lost anyway. I concede that this would have been due, in large measure, to both racism and to perceptions, still widely believed by many, that Barak Obama is a Muslim. Nevertheless, I hold that, while it is obvious that these were factors with a segment of Kentucky Democratic voters, they make up a minority of those who voted against Obama.
Had he addressed these concerns directly, and especially had he appeared more in the state, he might have whittled Hillary's margin down to just a little bit more than ten percent, but certainly not under that amount. It is highly doubtful he would have pulled within twenty percentage points, actually.
The real major reason for this, however, is not racism or concerns about Islam. While these concerns, I repeat, were doubtless factors with a segment of the voting populace, they were not the most important considerations. The major reasons are as follows-
1. Hillary Clinton campaigned extensively in the state, making appearances at such venues as Covington's May Fest, among others, while both Bill and Chelsea also campaigned tirelessly and extensively across the state. Bill even appeared in front of the Madison County Courthouse. They gave the vast majority of the people of Kentucky their first and possibly last chance to see a former President of the United States, or a major candidate.
This is in fact the first time Kentucky has been a factor in a Presidential nominating contest. The Clintons played it for all it was worth, while Obama passed up a golden opportunity-not so much to win this primary, but to pave the way for instilling some good will for the upcoming general election, when these votes will be all the more important.
2. The Clintons are very popular with rank-and-file Kentucky Democrats, at least among those who are dependable and regular voters. Bill Clinton won the state twice and is now fondly remembered by them, for the most part.
3. There is a perception that Barak Obama is the most liberal member of the Senate. Whether this is true or not is irrelevant. The fact is, that is the perception, and perception translates into votes. This in fact might well be the most important consideration of all. Kentuckians, for the most part, are moderate to conservative.
Where Obama is considered a liberal, Hillary Clinton is perceived as more left of center.
It is really unfair to lump all Kentucky Democrats, or Kentuckians in general, as racists based on the fact that Hillary Clinton, the centrist wife of a popular former President, defeated the black candidate-who was all but absent from the state during the campaign while she, her popular husband, and well-liked daughter traversed practically every corner of the state non-stop.
Most of the same Kentucky Democrats who voted against Obama, being as I said politically moderate to conservative, rejected Obama largely on those grounds. By the same token, a great many of them-maybe even most of them-would have had no problem crossing party lines to vote for a J C Watts or an Alan Keyes.
For that matter, even more Kentucky Democrats might well jump at the chance to vote for a Democratic political moderate such as Harold Ford Jr. In all the above cases, it would depend on who their opponent was. It would by and large depend on their stands on the issues, not their race.
If one of those candidates were to run a credible race in Kentucky, with a credible chance of winning (unlike Keyes in his current quixotic bid) and did well, or even won, the same people trashing Kentucky by throwing out the race card now would be screaming "Uncle Tom".
So just who are the racists?
It is easy for CNN to go to the most destitute places in Kentucky with a film crew and portray such a depressed area as one small part of Clay County as typical of the state. Honesty and integrity does not come easily to these purveyors of political pornography, it seems. Their point seems to be that the entire state of Kentucky is a state full of ignorant, uneducated rednecks-how could they not be racist?
The real question to be asked is how could one expect an unbiased and objective analysis of the recent Democratic Kentucky primary from the likes of this bunch? I am, sadly, not surprised in the least.
John McCain, although already the Republican Party presumptive nominee, won his contest with 72% of the vote. In other words, 28% of Kentucky Republican voters took the time and trouble to go to the polls to vote against the man who has already won his party's nomination.
So I guess that means a large percentage of Kentucky Republicans hate the elderly? Or maybe they just despise old military veterans? No, I have the strange idea they merely expressed their disapproval of John McCain because, in fact, John McCain is a known RINO.
Why try to invent an alternate reality when the one we have tells us all you need to know?
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