Senator Franken

Wow, I sure have changed a lot over the last three years since I wrote this post in which I said I generally agree with Al Franken's politics. I have an idea that if I had taken the time to think about what I was saying, I would not have said that, but certainly I've grown even more conservative since that time.

I still, though, wouldn't mind seeing Al as President. What I really would like to see is just him running for President. Can you imagine John McCain running for re-election at the age of seventy-six against Al Franken. Franken would push McCain's buttons in a way guaranteed to cause an eruption of that vaunted temper.

Well, if Franken wins his race this year in Minnesota against incumbent Norm Coleman, whose seat is considered vulnerable, then he would have been in the Senate four years by the time the 2012 presidential election comes around. He would have to be considered a potential vice-presidential running mate at least, if not actually head the top of the ticket. Can anybody think of a better attack dog than Franken as VP running mate?

I wouldn't really like to see him as President now, but by the same token, it would still be cool to see him give that preview of his first State of The Union Address on Saturday Night Live.

Of course, he has his work cut out for him. A lot of people in Minnesota consider him too controversial to win a general election, and though Coleman is vulnerable, he is still the slight favorite as of now. A lot of people are concerned about Franken's ability to interact with Senators whom he has attacked in the past. And then there's the matter of some of his bawdier humor, such as a past Playboy article which detailed some kind of sexual activity with robots.

Therefore, to reassure voters, Franken is trying to do something he's just not used to doing-act dignified and respectful. I guess he figures the funny stuff can come later.

Crime Spree In Tokyo

This guy named Kato went on a crime spree yesterday in Akihibara- a district of Tokyo known as the hub of the comic book sub-culture-and posted several warnings on internet forums that he would do so, on different occasions.

Well,he did just what he said he would do. He drove his truck into the middle of a crowd, got out and proceeded down the street on foot, stabbing everyone he come across. Seven people died as a result, as of the last count, before the police finally overpowered him.

One of the things he claimed he was upset about, outside of the fact that his life was just crappy in general, was that he could not seem to make friends.

I have an idea that a tone of voice that translates roughly as "It's all I can do to keep from slashing you into two thousand unrecognizable strips of bloody flesh", would tend to have a negative effect on one's social interactions.

Swingtown-The Series

Brent Bozell is at it again. No sooner has the new CBS series “Swingtown” premiered than he has invented a reason to dislike it. From his article in Human Events-

Marriage is a necessary cornerstone of a civilized society. Crumble that building block and the waves of instability can be felt like tremors foreshadowing an earthquake. Sift through the wreckage of the collapsed mariage, and all too often, you'll find the broken bodies of children. It's never fails to be heartbreaking.

And here I thought I had a problem with typos. For one thing, marriages in general aren’t much of a cornerstone when a large portion of them are built on shaky ground-or quicksand. Having said that, of course marriage is, or should be, an important element of society-but what does that have to do with “Swingtown”?

His point seems to be that-

Notice that Hollywood producers openly proclaim they're "culturally subversive" with a smile, that each new frontier of taste they shatter is "groundbreaking." But the ground that's being broken here is the family — a foundation of hope and love that proves itself in devoted daily consistency and self-sacrifice. That formula doesn't make for sassy programming in the plastic world of television, I know, but it works in the real world.

So, in one fell swoop, with the introduction of this one summer replacement series, CBS is going to break the American family? Do they pay this guy by the word? If so, you would think he would put a little more thought into them.

I liked the series, or more accurately, the pilot episode. If it is going in the direction that it seems to be going, I hardly think there is cause for alarm. To sum it up as best I can-the Millers, a suburban Chicago family, have moved up and into a better, higher class neighborhood, whereupon almost immediately they meet their neighbors, the Deckers-a childless couple, it seems-who target them for a swing relationship. The Millers agree to the proposal a little quicker than might seem realistic, but hey-why beat around the bush? This is the swinging seventies, when women, and couples, were sexually liberated and eager and willing to experiment. The show in fact opens during the 1976 bicentennial, and the Millers leave their old suburban home in the middle of a wholesome outdoor family friendly neighborhood barbecue, and head smack dab into what passes for an American version of a Roman orgy.

The old neighbors follow behind. The man seems to have an unstated though barely disguised attraction for Mrs. Miller, while the clueless wife is your typical nice but old-fashioned homemaker who hasn’t quite coped with her rapid advance into middle age. She does not want to lose the Millers, and she and her husband end up tagging along to the new neighbor’s bash.

The husband finds his way outside to where Mrs. Miller waits for the coming fireworks. The wife starts looking for the husband, whereupon the hostess coyly directs her to the basement, where she walks in on the middle of an orgy. One man is swarmed by a bevy of young women and tells the woman, “why don’t you kick off your shoes, mom, and join the party?”

She leaves in a huff, finds her husband, and drags him away, demanding the Miller’s leave with them. The Millers, of course, do not intend to do any such thing, and at the end of the show, the Millers are alone with their new neighbors and, while Mr. Miller gives Mrs. Miller a foot massage, the new neighbor, an airline pilot, makes ready to enter the cockpit by way of her shoulders.

So, the show’s stage is set, but where is it going? It would be a mistake to assume that this pilot episode is the entirety of the show’s premise in a nutshell, because there are dark currents at work in this series. The Millers have two children. One of them, the daughter (who looks like she could actually be the daughter of the actress who plays Mrs. Miller, though she is not) is an academically intelligent high school student who smokes marijuana and has regular sex with her unambitious boyfriend. She also seems to have an attraction to one of her teachers-who in turn seems to be stalking her.

Their youngest child, a son of about thirteen or thereabouts, has discovered a young girl has been living in his bedroom prior to their arrival. She is the daughter of another of the Miller’s new neighbors, a woman who only seems to think about where her next cocaine buzz is coming from-with the exception of when she is trying to get enough aluminum foil to cover her windows at night. Her daughter obviously hates her and, it seems, pretty much everybody else.

The show is peppered throughout with seventies styles and references, and heartily seasoned with a soundtrack of seventies songs. The show titles for the most part seem to be named after seventies songs. For example, one of the future episodes is titled “Hello It’s Me”. I say for the most part, because I can’t recall ever hearing of a song from the seventies (or from any other era) with the title “Swingus Interruptus”.

I enjoyed the show, and will be watching it, as will others-perhaps a good many of them. Personally, I am going to be particularly interested in just what direction it does take. It may be a show about swingers, but I have an idea it is not all going to be one big long, wild, joy-filled ride of abandon with no consequences. There will be-and should be-an accurate and realistic portrayal of the consequences of engaging in debauched behavior as a pattern, with no precautions or evident moderation.

If it does this in a realistic manor, the Brent Bozzells and other such naysayers will then have no legitimate complaints. Of course, that probably won't stop them.

Big Brown-What Went Wrong

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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."

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.

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!!!!

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.

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.

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.

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”.