Going Native

We get a significant amount of email around here along the lines of, "How do I go ex-pat?"  That's akin to asking, "What flavor of ice cream should I like?"  The answer is about as individual as it gets.

What we can do is go over some of the things to consider and hopefully come up with some to-dos when it comes to making such a move.

It happens quite frequently throughout history, where a large number of people up and leave a country for financial, political or social reasons.  Pre-war Germany is a good example.  A great number of folks didn't like the direction the country was taking and decided to bug-out.

It's happening right now in Europe and the States.  A great number of people have, or are considering leaving for more hospitable climes.  If this describes you, then let's explore the options and problems.

The very first thing you need to do is decide to leave or not.  Maybe you think you've done that already, but I mean put all marbles in the circle and see how the game looks then.  You are talking about leaving pretty much any familial and social connection you have.  This is not just moving across the country, this is a major effort to come home, or for folks to come see you.  Are you ready for that level of commitment?

Going ex-pat is a commitment.  You have to want it bad enough that you will suffer pretty much anything to make a go of it.  The first few months will be incredible difficult.  There are a thousand small adjustments to be made in your life, from language to food to people you associate with on a daily basis.  You will feel very isolated and strange until you get enough language under your belt to be able to hold a polite conversation on a variety of topics.  Nothing will go the way you expected and planned for (see planning), and even tasks such as hooking up water and electrical service, or getting a local SIM card for your phone can be traumatic.

You will also be seen as a tourist and treated as such, paying quite a bit more for things than the guy next to you.  Everyone will appear to be digging in your pocket until you can show that you are there to stay, and that takes time.  I've spoken a number of times in past articles about the difference between a traveler and a tourist.  Becoming an ex-pat requires, in no uncertain terms, that you be a traveler.  You have to love the process as much as the product, or you WILL wash out.

As for planning, well, I've lived and worked in five countries (outside of Texas, that is).  The best advice here is dump everything you think you need.  Pack one suitcase with a week's worth of clothes and a few pictures and go.  Don't bring the house.  You can get that wherever you're going.  If you can't leave it all behind, then don't go.  You will want to remain as mobile as possible until you are secure enough to start collecting stuff again.

After you dump all the stuff, triple the amount of money you figure you'll need, excluding transportation to your new home.  You'll need to get set up first, and that's going to take some cash, no matter how you slice it, even if you're going the cheapest possible way (tent, backpack, etc.).  Even then, you'll want a hot bath once in a while, and that will take a hotel room.  Avoid credit cards, as paying bills is a hassle you don't want while you're getting settled.

However you plan to make money in your new home, be sure to have at least three options.  More than likely, you'll be on Plan C before things really start clicking.  I'm already on Plan G in just four short years.  One very good source for ideas on making money is a book called, "Reinventing Yourself Overseas."  It's in the Amazon portal in the right column.  Excellent book with a lot of great ideas and resources.

Some popular ways to go about living are teaching, writing and translating.  These happen to be the three things I chose, with international trading as a sideline, plus whatever other opportunities come along.  Keep in mind that having a large toolbox of capabilities will improve your chances tremendously.  Language and business skills will go a long way, along with some marketing experience (both for yourself and for an employer).  What you need to think about is what can you do that will be rare and/or in demand in your new land.

Using things like LinkedIn helps.  You'll find discussion boards for various countries, with the occasional job opportunities popping up.  BE CAREFUL!  There are a lot of scams offering jobs to ex-pats.  Thoroughly check out any prospects.  One popular source of dependable jobs is the hotel and leisure sector.  Some folks have pretty good luck with the diplomatic route.  Just remember, if the employer is legit, they generally don't ask you to put up any money.  They pay the way.

The discussion boards will help you learn the ins and outs and ups and downs of your destination.  You can get inside information on visas, legal issues, housing, cheap places to get necessities and places to avoid.  You might also make a connection or two so that someone will know where you are and how you are doing after you arrive.  Having one or two phone numbers for folks nearby is like gold.  The traveler's code is that we watch out for each other.

If you're going cold, you'll need to plan on border jumping every so often until you get settled in.  Depending on where you are, this can be a brisk walk or an arduous odyssey.  I've spent many a night in an airport, train or bus station for this little chore.  Keep in mind that most countries don't mind you job hunting (as long as you got bank), but if you start working without a permit or visa, you can scare up some trouble pretty fast in most places outside the US.

A final bit of advice: if you're not willing to dive into the local culture, you won't be long there.  By this I mean avoid tourist places and spend as much time as you can afford learning the language and the social graces.  Being polite and a good sport will open a lot of doors and mark you as one of the gang.  Being a good sport means trying some new food, no matter what part of the animal is comes from, or joining in a social event like Friday night basketball in the neighborhood.  Show that you're willing to be part of things, and let folks get a laugh here and there at your expense.

This is both necessary for your integration, and provides protection.  If trouble comes, your fellow ex-pats won't be much help, but your neighbors will be.  They'll stand up for you and help you should things get a little rough.  This has proved to be an invaluable tactic time and again.

The faster and better you can communicate, the more opportunities will come your way.  If you can politely greet people, ask for things and be appropriately thankful, you'd be amazed at how fast you will fit in pretty much anywhere.  This usually amounts to learning about 10 or 15 phrases, so we're not talking about a major effort for big payoffs.

I've read a lot of articles about going ex-pat, and few have covered these rather important considerations.  They don't often dive into the gritty reality of making a real go of it.  The biggest mistakes I see people make are being overly attached to stuff, not having backup plans, and being afraid to let go and really immerse in the new culture.

Of the places I've lived, I've never gone there before I moved there, and in only two cases (Ireland and Spain) was I fluent in the language before I stepped off the plane.  So it can be done.  It is NOT easy, though, and I don't recommend it for anyone but the most hardcore travelers.

This is not the executive transfer for a year type gig.  This is a serious attempt to leave an old country and enter a new one for good and on your own.  There won't be hazard pay and bonuses and free rides.  This is creating your own opportunities and making your own choices in life.  The odds are stacked against you and the hardships are plenty, but the rewards are indescribable.  It is rugged individualism writ large.

There's plenty of other considerations, and you can find a lot of articles covering them in depth, but as I said, not many bring up these particular topics.  To boil it all down to a nutshell (and mix a couple of metaphors), reduce as many variables as you can, then have as many contingencies as you can muster for those that remain.  In all cases, be prepared for the unexpected, and learn to trust your instincts and your self.

Becoming an ex-pat, or more appropriately, a transnational citizen, can be a richly rewarding choice and one that is bound to broaden horizons and leave indelible memories. If you want it bad enough, it's yours.  But isn't that true of everything in life?

Every Day Is Equinox

It's kind of cool living here on the equator.  Every day is equinox.  The only seasonal differences have to do with the amount of rainfall and where the Sun rises and sets against the sky.

The monsoon season is drawing to a close now.  Back in October, everyone was preparing for the worst, since conventional wisdom has it that every five years, there's a major flood in Jakarta (this being the fifth since the last biggie).  We seemed to have dodged the bullet.  Sure, there were some heavy rains and high water, but being a native Houstonian, I didn't find them to be exceptional.

Right now, we're enjoying the two weeks in between Wet and Dry seasons, where there's a pleasant breeze as the winds shift to the south, the skies clear and Jakarta is almost pleasant for a moment.

The Sun is shifting from the southern sky to the northern, which is nice since my porch faces the north and my plants can get some badly needed light for the next six months.  If I stand facing the sunset, then to my right is Spring and to my left is Fall.

The other difference is that in the coming six months, the Sun will rise and set a little after 6 o'clock.  During the other half of the year, it's a little before.  Regardless, every day is 12 hours, come hell or high water, which incidently is a pretty good description of the seasons here.

Monsoon season is rather interesting.  Many Westerners think of it as non-stop rain for six months, which is not true.  In fact, the normal cycle is to have moments when the sky gets dark and foreboding.  Then the sky literally splits asunder and water falls so fast it doesn't even bother to form drops.  This normally lasts about 10 or 15 minutes, and usually occurs just before sunrise or just after sunset.

There are some days where it's rainy all day, but it comes in blasts rather than unending rainfall, like Houston. The storms are sometimes accompanied by strong winds and even tornado-like destruction, though no one claims to have ever seen a funnel cloud.  It's almost like the wind gets channeled into a strong tube that levels everything in its path.

If you get out of the city and find some relatively dark skies, you can see Orion and the Magellanic Clouds in the same night, not to mention the Southern Cross and Microscopium, and other southern asterisms.

Right now, the fruit trees are busting with goodies.  My apple tree on the porch is offering up some delicious little pink apples that are about half-way between sweet and sour.  The markets are overflowing with fruit.  My wife just bought a bunch of manggisan (mangosteen) and some pisang raja (king bananas).  Until I came here, I had no idea there were so many kinds of bananas.  I've counted as many as 15, ranging from thumb-sized sweet boogers up to mean green gnarly suckers as long as my arm.

There's rambutan and salak and kelapa and apulkat, and these cool little oranges about the size of a shooter marble, and limes that are so sour they turn your face inside out, but make hellacious margaritas!  My favorite are the buah naga, or dragon fruit.  They are about the size of a football, pink with yellow curly things all over them, and the flesh and taste are kind of like a pear with little black seeds sprinkled throughout.

The most unusual tropical fruit, which is saying a lot since they are all rather strange, is the durien.  This fruit has a near cult following in Southeast Asia.  From Thailand to the Archipelago, people build statues and have laws and even have entire restaurants devoted to this fruit.

It's about the size of a football (again), with a hard shell covered with formidable spines.  Flung hard enough, they would make useful weapons.  When they are ripe, the shell splits, which is about the only way you can get into the suckers.  The smell is, well, rather unique.  I've heard it described as rotten onions tucked inside year-old gym socks, and that's about as accurate as I've found.  Most Westerners won't go near the stuff, which is fine by me.  All the more for us brave ones.

When you open the shell, there are about four fleshy, pale yellow slugs.  They look a lot like stuffed chicken gut sausage, really.  The slugs are the part you eat.  Each one has a massive seed in the center.  Now this is the best part...the texture is like tapioca pudding and the flavor is indescribable.  There is nothing else like on Earth, that I've ever experienced.  It is wholly and completely unique.  And for those not brave enough to try it, there are pastries, cookies and even ice cream made from it.

In Singapore, it's against the law to take durien on the subway, and most hotels won't let you bring it inside, because Westerners find the smell highly offensive.  In Medan, there's a street restaurant only open at night that is famous for serving several varieties of the fruit.  If you find yourself in Medan and would like to try it, just follow your nose.  You can smell the place for about a half-mile around.  In Thailand there are festivals.  In Surabaya, you can find literally piles of it along the coast road.

An interesting note about durien is that as it ripens, the alcohol content rises in the fruit.  If you eat enough of it, you will get a hangover.  In some places, it is unseemly for unmarried couples to be seen eating it together.  It really is a unique phenomenon, and one that every Westerner visiting Southeast Asia should try.  Just hold your nose and be brave.

So today we celebrate the Equinox with a Hindu holiday called Nyepi.  It's basically a day of purification when Hindus (and anyone living in Bali) may not use any technology AT ALL.  Everything shuts down.  No traffic, no pedestrians, no home appliances, no TeeVee, and no one leaves the house.  The Hindus spend outrageous amounts of money on something called ogoh-ogoh.  These are elaborate constructs designed to entice and trap various spirits that 'pollute' the realm of the living throughout the rest of the year.  Folks place them in front of their homes and groups get together and erect huge ones in public areas.

The ogoh-ogoh cost anywhere from $100 to thousands of dollars, and can range anywhere from discrete displays in front of the house, to the size of a house.  And while these clean the spiritual environment, folks clean out their houses, the streets get swept and everything is polished up for the holiday.  Kind of like spring cleaning back home, but taken to the extreme.

Seems that even without seasons, there are seasons.  Many parts of the world have some kind of ritual surrounding this moment in time.  Even astronomers and astrologers calibrate equipment and measurements on the Vernal Equinox.  My ancestors built enormous bonfires and got ripped to the gills to celebrate, which I find a rather attractive way to observe this moment.

However you choose to celebrate your turning, just remember that for half the world, it's the Autumnal Equinox.  There's such a bias in common culture to the Northern and Western Hemispheres.  And us equatorial dwellers are always left out, either way.  Enjoy your Spring/Fall/Dry!

Into The Great Narrow Closed

sunburnt saddles slipping
the paling dome
Zeus Horus evermind
the droning act of war

the shrinking mile
a fading smile
forever like a headline
severance like reunion
Chronus takes his place
-- from waste by B. Grover

This being Indonesia and all, last evening the power went out for several hours, and when it came back, our local IP took yet another couple of hours to come back up.

You'd think my wife and daughter had just had their hearts plucked out and held in front of them, still beating.

All the 'Berries and 'Pods and 'Books stopped working.  They were cut off from their entire social realm.  We're talking about two people who send BBM to each other at the dinner table.  They were jonesing like two smackheads who had just learned that poppies had become extinct.

It seems that people have forgotten the fine art of communication in the midst of a vast ocean of channels and media.  Any more, folks just don't know what to do with themselves if the toys stop working.

These days, people know someone living thousands of miles away better than the person living next door.  In some cases, we are not even aware of the people next door.  On the one hand, this is a wonderous thing, but on the other, it is alienating people in unimaginable ways.

Back in the days when I was matriculating at the University of Houston, a young and idealistic media major (though at the time is was still RTF), we oohed and ahhed over the early developments in things like tele-text, 1/2-inch magnetic tape and broadcast-quality cameras with on-board recorders.

A couple of years after I graduated, I was using the very first Mozilla browser, which eventually became Netscape, on the first backbone in Texas at the Houston Medical Center.  I was using a robotic camera designed by Sky-Cam to record surgeries for medical education.

About that time, the first real Motorola cell phones were coming out.  Only certain areas of town had cells, so they were kind of spotty, but they were far more chic than the ubiquitous pagers or the old radio phones in a briefcase.

Still, people were talking to each other and socializing.  Though the gee-gaws were growing in popularity, people hadn't yet lost themselves in a virtual world of mindless chatter.  That part was still confined to late night at the computer using Compuserve and AOL.  It was a time when people were coming to work the next day bleary-eyed and chatted out.

Then came the PDAs.  A few of my technerati friends bought in immediately.  They used the infamous Windows ME and you could carry your files around with you without those damn floppies and Zip disks.  Artists always used Zip because our files were just too big for those passe floppies.

Then those damn BlackBerries started appearing.  The first one I ever saw in the wild belonged to a Hollywood producer, who took every opportunity to whip it out and appear very busy and in demand.  He could snap a photo of a potential victim, I mean actress, and send it instantly to his partner in crime, I mean casting agent, in Burbank.  Everyone stood around trying to appear blase while trying to catch a glance of the new toy.

The other day, a friend here in Jakarta sent me an SMS asking if I had a BlackBerry.  I responded that, no, I just have a GreenBerry...a cheap Nokia that sends messages and makes calls.  I have no use for the Swiss army knife of communications.  I'm one of those weirdos who won't answer the phone when I'm in a social setting.  Someone in front of me is far more important than someone on the other side of the planet wanting to know what I'm doing.

I laugh myself to tears when I'm out on the town and see a group of folks gathered at a pub or restaurant, and they are all busily thumbing their devices, rather than talking to each other.  What's the point?  Why not just stay home and do the same thing.  One can hardly call these group telephonies social events.  No one is talking!

Whenever I get an SMS from someone asking, "What are you doing?"  My typical response is, "Writing to you."  They usually come back with, "I though you were..."  To which I say, "I was until you interrupted me."

I hate phones, really.  And the more they do, the more I hate them.  Granted, it is way cool that I can contact someone instantly anywhere on the planet, when I need to.  But to twit [sic] my every bowel movement to a waiting world just doesn't inpire me.

Suppose people put substantive communications out there.  They wouldn't twit or fob or beebee unless they had a profound thought, or snapped a beautiful sunset, and witnessed a newsworthy event?  Suppose we created a new economy where people got electronic chits based on the value and creativity of their inputs?  Suppose people reserved their slash-dots for private moments, like toilet functions, rather than ignoring those of us sitting with them?

Remember when people used to go into phone boxes to conduct their conversations in private?  Remember when it was considered rude to talk to people who weren't sitting directly in front of you?  Remember the early days of cell phones when people would excuse themselves and go outside if they had to take a call?

Evolution gave us senses to perceive the larger Universe and memories to preserve special events.  We are now reversing millions of years of development.  We are sealing ourselves off in a virtual world that no one else can perceive and share.  Our memories have been reduced to USB cards.

Any more, artists aren't people who perceive connections where others didn't.  Now they are nothing more than people who just use their senses without electronic enhancement.

Language is devolving to a series of abbreviations without adjectives or adverbs.  Not just English, mind you, but all languages.  You are more likely to see, "Wh r u dng?", then a prose description of some immediate experience.

Already, Googleglasses are showing up.  Now people can walk around in a complete digital haze, so busy watching their HUDs that they completely forgot to experience the real world through which they are sleep-walking.

Just for fun, if I'm sitting with a group of people absorbed in their techno-fogs, I'll do something like, "Holy Shit!  Did you see THAT?!"  Everyone looks up and around saying, "What?  What?"  I just say, "Never mind, it's over now."

Most people just fade back into their techno-fogs, but occasionally someone gets it.  They put down the gadgets and start talking.

Imagine that...we were actually born with communication devices that don't need charging, can encode and decode complex signals automatically, can be enhanced with applets through learning, and even a wireless internet, if we are willing to use it.

Or you can get a vibrating Nokia tatoo so you're never out of touch with your phone.

Shooting Putty At The Moon

As regular readers around here know, we're usually well ahead of the curve on most news stories.  It's almost like some group reads my stuff then goes out and makes the news from it.  Kind of spooky, really.

At any rate, we spotted the FONY 2012 video for what it was, and two days later, the director is caught shooting putty at the Moon and babbling incoherently.  What is points up immediately is that the video wasn't some guys backyard project with his genius son.  It was a full-blown effort at mass manipulation.  As I said, that kind of production value ain't cheap.

The arresting police suspect that he was 'on something,' which would also not be surprising.  In fact, the Hollywood/media cabal are know to be a hotbed of drugs, and there's good reason for it.  They are all liars.  The ones with consciences end up twisting off, like the poor FONY fellow.  Others get lost in their imaginary worlds, completely devoid of contact with the 'common' reality.

I was reminded of Mel Gibson's drunken tirade, as I read about the FONY director.  The Hollywood/media set use alcohol and drugs to try to quiet their guilt at having created monsters.  In fact, if you go read Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, you'll find that Viktor experiences the same thing.  The trigger is not having created monstrous bullshit, it's the moment it takes off and people start believing it and acting on it en mass.  That;s when the guilt goes into high gear.

Actors are hired liars.  They start off with high ideals of bringing literature to life.  They study techniques and methods.  They follow the example of the greats.  But after a while, especially if they experience any fame at it, their minds start gnawing at them.  They lose touch with who and what they really are and start believing the hype.  The next thing you know, they're gulping down booze and pills to chase the gobblins of reality go away.

The unlucky, or is it lucky, ones end up in public displays like the director of FONY.  If I've seen it once, I've seen it a hundred times.

The question is, what do we do about all the poor kids who believed this monstrous lie?  They were the ones who picked it up first on Facebook, and to who the video was geared.  If we are careful, we can use this as a teaching guide for the young ones, to let them know that they should never take anything in the media as real.  Use it for entertainment, OK.  But never believe a single word, sound or image that comes across the net, the cable or the airwaves.  This incident could work to our advatnage, if we act fast and carefully, before the spin doctors have time to figure this all out.  Like the brain damaged drunken lone gang of soldiers in Afghanistan.

On a completely different note...

Obama supposedly signed martial law into effect with his latest executive order covering National Resources Defense Preparedness.  I know this is going to come as a shock to most Americans, but you've been under Martial Law for 160 years.  Old Abe Lincoln issued General Orders 100 at the height of the War of Yankee Aggression, which effectively cancelled the Constitution and made every citizen an enemy of the State.  It's been renewed every year since by an on-going state of emergency, such as the one currently sweeping the US for the past 11 years.

Of course, I don't expect you to believe me, but unlike my normal modus operendi, I went and rounded up the links for you all in one tidy package.  There's not a single living American who has ever been free in their entire lives.  Burst that bubble, didn't we?

The problem with learning about General Order 100 is that it will put you in the same position as the director of FONY 2012: you will have to come to grips with the fact that everything you know is a lie, or you will end up in a drunken rage shooting putty at the Moon.  It's a tough choice.  You may just want to live out your life in blissful ignorance, because YES, the Truth will set you free, but it usually does so in a dramatic and not always controllable way.

Remember Brooks in Shawshank Redemption?  After spending most of your life in an institution, you tend to get used to the bars.  Once the walls are gone, it's a scary and lonely feeling.  Staring into the void is its own special kind of Hell.  You want others to stare at it with you, to keep you company and talk you down.  Ultimately, it is a solitary experience, even when a thousand people are sitting with you.  Just ask Mr. FONY.

So, if there's a theme to today's column, it is as Richard Hoagland regularly says, "The lie is different at every level."  Our job is a simple choice, to look or not to look.  Both have rather far reaching consequences.

In the end, the FONY director is a tragic character.  He was in the impossible position of knowing he had promulgated a massive lie, yet trying to sit back and enjoy the nice pay check it brought.  I've been there, and I've shot putty at the Moon trying to work through it.  Fortunately, I was in a magic circle deep in the New Mexico wilderness when I twisted off.  I made it through.  It was the bob-cat that did it, but that's another story.

So, as usual around here, we come down to the Red Pill or the Blue Pill.  Really try to get in the head of Neo when he first wakes up.  One day, he's a corporate drone, the next he's in a mechanistic Hell covered in Moon putty.  If you achieve true empathy with that scene, you'll start to get a sense of what's in store.

Meanwhile, Mr. FONY is going to be institutionalized and punished for his 'crime'.  The thing is, it will never come out that the real crime was what was done to him.  The media use up people like that.  If they flame out, they are blacklisted and life goes on.  If they managed to live with the cognitive dissonance, then they are richly paid and sought after.  Every time you flip on the TeeVee or watch a movie, you are enjoying the work of people who have effectively slayed their consciences.  Enjoy!

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Granted it's a day late, but there's always time for the Sunday Funnies!  Amos and Andy is right up there with Fibber Magee and Molly and Inner Sanctum on my list of favorite radio shows.  This episode marks their transition from radio to serials.  The funny thing is, the radio actors were white, so they had to cast all new actors for the films.  It shows that the Lie has always been there.  At least the ancient Greeks wore masks so everyone knew it was a lie.

The Seams Are Bursting All Over

It used to be that the (very old) NWO seemed monolithic, untouchable, a Goliath that no David could slay.  Then, for a while, you had to kind of squint, look askance and adjust the lighting just so to see it coming unglued.  Now, you can't help but see the whole tapestry of lies and deceit coming unraveled before our weary eyes.  And I have to say, I'm not exactly tearful about it.

The headlines are packed with stories that clearly display the fear and loathing within the ranks of the once-terrifying global empire.  It seemed as if it was unconquerable and all-pervasive.  You really had to work at the headlines to see that the bastards were in a dead panic.  Now they can't hide it.

A sure sign of deterioration is paranoia.  When one starts to see threats everywhere, then it's a sure sign that one needs a bottle of lithium pills and some long sessions on the brain-butcher couch.  With Congress introducing the latest 'defense budget', jam-packed with all sorts of new powers for the prez to run off and attack nations, kill citizens and target 'terrorists', you just know these lily-livered Ivory Tower dwelling bucketheads are scared out of their wits that someone is going to hold them accountable for the decades of crap they've laid on us good people.

To modify and old Tom Jefferson quote, when government fears the people, it starts killing and detaining them indefinitely.

Another sign that all is not will in MilitaryIndustrialComplexLand, Panetta is afraid of 'his' troops.  Now, when the Secretary of Defense is so scared of his troops that he won't talk to them until they lock up their guns, then you know something ain't right in the state of Kansas anymore.  Can you imagine Rummy pulling a stunt like this?  Joe Sixpack would have come unglued over it, but seems no one bothered to care this time.

A speaking of troops out of control, seems the 'brain damage' story wasn't flying, so now he was drunk.  In my last column, I gave the myriad of reasons why the whole dain bramage story didn't hold water, and apparently the spooks who read my columns realized I was right.  So now the soldier who went on a wholesale killing spree in Afghanistan was drunk.  Hey, boys!  That one doesn't fly either.  He's in a staunch Muslim country, which means the chances of finding a 24-hour liquor store near-by are about slim-to-nil.  Furthermore, he's on a military base in a 'war' zone, which means his ration kit probably didn't come with a bottle of Jack, either.  That means we're pretty much down to a Hawkey/Trapper still for him to get hooched up.  Nope, I ain't buying that one either.

Hint: It's Afghanistan.  Why not say he got hold of some bad smack or smoked too much opium?

In other heartwarming news, the DARPA chief slides over to Google.  That's right, folks!  The head of the spookiest bunch of spooks in Spookville is trotting down the hall to go to work for the largest information-gathering outfit on the face of the planet.  Now if that doesn't make you feel all warm and secure, nothing will.

Next thing you know, Panetta will quit and go take over Blackwater Mercenaries, Inc.

In economic news, we note some silver linings around them foreboding black clouds of doom.  The rise of the black market and stealing necessities is becoming the new dumpster-diving for the 21st century.  Now, I don't encourage or support stealing private property, but it is a symptom of a bigger problem.  However, I'm all in favor of black markets, barter and alternative economies.  Anything that takes food out of a bankster's mouth is just hunky-dory, in my book.  If you haven't already (meaning you're behind the trend), then now may be a great time to set up a co-op (aka black market in bankster terms) and start producing and trading with your neighbors.  Don't use green bux.  Instead, make an even trade, or better yet, y'all just come up with your own currency...say, sheets of toilet paper.  Soft double-ply counts extra.

On the foreign affairs front, "Deadeye" Dick Cheney afraid of Canada.  Now if this don't beat all.  The heartless (literally) bastard who shoots his own friends cancelled a speaking engagement in Canada, because folks there were calling for his immediate arrest and trial on charges of war crimes.  Seems George W. Shrub can't leave town either.  Just as well.  Who wants those slime balls in their country anyway.

By the way, you may have missed it a while back.  Didn't get coverage in the US media, though the rest of the world heard all about it.  Shrub and Tony "The Hair" Blair were convicted of war crimes in Malaysia back in November.  Guess those boys won't be vacationing in Kuala Lumpur any time soon.

The old impeachment game's afoot.  The mentally stable US Congress is considering impeaching Obama for attacking Libya a while back (remember that one?).  This bill comes on the heels of the previously mentioned bill to give Obama more war powers and a blank check to go kill some people.  I swear.  If people weren't actually dying and countries being reduced to rubble, this crap would actually be funny.

Meanwhile, at least some folks have come to their senses.  Orlando airport kicks TSA out.  Unemployment couldn't happen to a more deserving bunch of terrorists.  They should all be put on trial and anyone convicted should be sentenced to non-stop back-scatter X-rays till their teeth and hair fall out.

Goldbar Sacks caught with gets its clients' pants down, as a top exec bails and dishes the dirt on the way out. This is really one of the most telling stories.  Anyone with half a brain (I know...) in the bankster business is bailing out to avoid the soon-to-be round of lamp-posting.  I'm willing to bet we'll be seeing a lot more stories like this in the near future.  That this guy chose to turn in his resignation in the NY Times was even more hilarious.  The words, "You'll never work in this town again," come to mind.

There should be no doubt in anyone's mind at this point that the (very old) New World Odor (sic) is crumbling before our very eyes.  Every one of these stories belie an ever-increasing fear and paranoia within the ranks.  They're even starting to eat their own.  The Congress stories show complete confusion and schizophrenia at the top.  The US military is disintegrating, both in leadership and within the ranks.  Former US leaders can't leave the country, even to CANADA, for crying out loud, without fear of being clapped in irons.

The whole scam is coming unraveled, even without Ron Paul in the Oval Office.  Trend watchers will want to get some popcorn and soda, because this show is only going to get better in the next couple of months.  Indeed, by the end of 2012, the world may little resemble the current House of Cards.

In fact, if P. T. Barnum were alive today, he would likely call this the "Greatest Show on Earth!"

Barterers start your trading!

Uncle Fraud And Aunt Perfidy

Must have been too quiet over there in Afghanistan.  Either that, or the US wasn't ready to go home and needed more excuses to stick around and bomb caves and goat herders.

First, it was the Koran burning incident.  Now, think about it.  If they had put the books in a bag and taken them to the dump and burned them with the weekly trash pile-up, no one would have been the wiser.  Instead, it was done in such a way as to make worldwide headlines.  Obviously, this was an intentional act of provocation.

But it didn't stir up enough backlash.

So, a soldier is ordered to go out and mow down some women and children in their homes.  That seems to be doing the trick.  It has stirred up a hornet's nest over there.  Of course, the completely screw-ball excuse being floated is that the man had a 'brain injury'.  First question: why is he still there and not at the military hosptal in Germany?  Second question: if he had a brain injury, why was he issued a weapon and allowed to leave base with a loaded weapon?  Third question: why is the US hell-bent on making as many enemies as it can, especially amongst Muslims?

Obvious conclusions: the US is the real terrorist organization, and it ain't finished cremating the Middle East yet.

The whole troop withdrawal thing was nothing more than an election year ploy, and by stirring up fresh hatred and opposition, they can justify keeping boots on the ground and still get the propaganda boost of being ready to come home.  What a farce.

In fact, there are a lot of farces going around these days.  The whole KONY 2012 (link intentional not given) thing reeks of psy-op.  I managed to choke down about 8 minutes of it before I had to cut it off.  This is so plainly an attempt to stir up 'invade Africa' sentiment that I can hardly believe anyone is falling for it.

China has spent the last ten years, while the US was dipping Iraqi fingers in purple ink, winning hearts and mines (sic) across the Dark Continent.  Unlike the West, which has used deceit and subterfuge to literally steal the mineral wealth of Africa, the Chinese have been trading roads, bridges and power plants for energy, rare earth and timber.  Naturally, the local folk are gravitating towards them, and the West needs an excuse to do what it does best...bomb, slay and steal...to put an end to the Oriental Express.

The whole KONY thing just drips with one of those slick 'save the children' tear-jerkers with Archie Bunker's daughter, only instead of ostensibly feeding kids, the goal is to bomb them for financial gain.  Yup, when I see a slick 30-minute video with high production value that runs about $50k to $100k to produce, my spidey-sense starts a-twitchin'.

Then there's the whole Bammy farce.  Sheriff Joe found probably cause for outright fraud and forgery of government documents that supposedly establish the man's identity.  LapDog Media response?  s-i-l-e-n-c-e  But don't worry, at least Pravda picked up the story.  And what does Pravda mean in English?  Oh yeah, "truth".

But hey, give the man a break.  He's been busy justifying killing and secretly detaining American citizens, stirring up fresh fighting in Afghanistan, and finding ways to keep gasoline prices down for the wage slaves at home.

The one thing that I've really been keeping an eye on though is Ron Paul.  Oh sure, everyone has written him off and the media have redoubled their efforts to ignore him, but I think a lot of folks are going to be surprised come the Convention.

See, Paul learned something from my dad.  Dad had a plan to run for prez one day, if Nixon hadn't killed his dream.  He knew that the primary voting was just window dressing.  All the hype and hollering is nothing more than a popularity contest, and means absolutely nothing in the end.

The key is getting delegates, and that is done in the caucuses.  I'll use my native Texas as an example.  During the day, folks go to the polls and pull the lever (or tap the screen now) and that tallies up how everyone feels, but does not select a single delegate.  That part is done after the polls close and the two or three people who know about it show up to choose delegates to the precinct convention.  At that convention, they select delegates to the district convention.  At that event, they select delegates to the state convention.  At that level they select delegates to the national convention.  At the national convention, they nominate the candidate.

Newtneyrum can win every vote in Texas, all three or four million of them, and not get a single delegate.  The media and Newtneyrun are blindly focused on the popularity contest, but Paul is focused on the caucuses.  His supporters are packing the caucuses and making sure the true believers are sent to each level of the convention process.  He could conceivably sweep the national convention without ever having won a single state popularity contest.

That's what happens when people believe the bullshit that America is a democracy and not a republic.  That's also why they stopped teaching civics in high school and no one ever talks about the real election process.  Ignorance elects idiots.

The fraud is at every level and everywhere.  And right about now, it is particularly thick and sticky.  Why, just yesterday, Drudge had a headline: Tel Aviv in ruins after Iran attacked.  If you look at the words, it implies that it had already happened.  I even got fooled into clicking.  Turned out to be a Mossad hit piece, but banner headlines like that are pure fraud, plain and simple.  Not that one should be surprised when the Mossad is involved.  They can't even find their ass with both hands when it comes to truth.

One must be extra careful in filtering the news.  It's best to read several international rags and compare stories.  I'm figuring that the average of 5 or 6 rags from each continent is about as close to truth as we're ever likely to get.  To facilitate your efforts, check out ThePaperBoy.com..  And watch out for any publications with the words "Times" or "Herald Tribune" in it.  Most likely pure, unadulterated, no artificial coloring bullshit.

Off The Deep End

LFS World Headquarters

Well, it's Saturday here at the LFS World Headquarters, deep in the jungles of Borneo.  We've got the Kimono dragon on the treadmill generating precious electricity to connect us to the world by highly conductive vines.  Our specially trained monkeys are picking our nits and the four wives are busily doing whatever it is they do, when not plotting to kill us with fried everything-in-the-world.

It's pouring down rain, as it is wont to do this time of year.  This year, however, we've stretched purloined FEMA tarps over the roof to provide some semblance of civility in the main hut.  After all, a bath should never be accidental.

On days like this, it is our practice to ponder the imponderable, with a little help from exotic jungle flora.  This week, we're enjoying some kind of tree leaf that, when chewed, imbues the chewer with an overwhelming sense of peace and clarity, both of which are sorely lacking in our otherwise hectic week-life.

Our thought experiment today is to explain the way the world works in simple, yet insightful language, so that everyone can get a handle on things.  At the end, we'll provide a link to some of the most amazing information you'd ever want at your fingertips.  Beware: once opened, your eyes can not be shut again.  Only those padwan learners with the intestinal fortitude to see the real world should proceed.

"So how does the world work," you ask with trepidation and trembling.  Well, it's like this...

Imagine you are fabulously wealthy.  A stretch, we know, but work with us.  You decide, along with some of your fabulously wealthy cronies, to create something that is at once an investment, but also provides endless entertainment for you and your buddies.

You all pool your play money and build a massive stadium with all the amenities (most of which are for you and your lackies).  The stadium has all the latest whiz-bang gizmos, so you can sell media rights to any events held in the stadium.  It has restaurants and food stalls of every description, so that no matter the tastes of the crowd, you have something to sell them...for a nice profit, of course.

The floor of the stadium is state-of-the-art.  It can be modified for sports, monster trucks, rodeos, concerts...anything you can imagine.  It's even possible to clear the floor and flood it for marine spectacles.

Each of the thousands of seats in the stadium have a terminal, whereby the audience can register immediate feedback on the spectacle du jour.  You call these terminals 'voting booths,' and it gives the audience the impression that they are participating in the spectacle, by choosing the best performances and events.

In reality, these terminals let you take the temperature of the crowd and modify the events so that you can control the crowd.  You can make them laugh or cry, sit on the edge of their seats, and even get hungry and buy snacks, just by tweaking the night's entertainment.

Now, you and your cronies built this monster to make a profit, so you'll need to charge admission.  You set up toll gates so that everyone entering your stadium pays a price, which you'll call taxes.  It's only fair.  After all, look at all the amenities they get in return, not to mention the show itself.  Besides, everyone knows it costs money to put on these spectacles, so they happily pay their fair share to keep the good times rolling.  Laissez le bon temps rouler!


Now, to get people into the stadium, you need conflict, strife and the occasional eye-candy.  You need Don King.  The King's of the world are the promoters.  They're the ones that go out and find the teams (countries), the fighters (armies) and the half-time entertainment (movies, TeeVee and dancing girls).

The Promoter

The promoters have all sorts of names: Bilderberg, Club of Rome, Freemasons.  But their jobs are all the same.  They go out and find the talent and create the image and atmosphere that draws the crowds.  They're the ones who put up the posters, do the recruiting, pay the entertainers, and deal with all the contracts and day-to-day operations.

The beauty of this arrangement is that if someone gets injured and sues, they go after the promoters.  You, as stadium owner, are invisible.  Besides, on the back of every ticket sold is a bunch of tiny legal mumbo-jumo and gobbledy-gook that says anyone buying a ticket signs away all their rights and you, as owner, are free of all liability.  You call this stuff 'laws' and it works great, because no one ever reads all that annoying fine print anyway.

Now you're ready to open the gates.  The promoters fan out and create oppositions and rivalries so that we, the audience, can enjoy the Big Game.  We can buy our tickets and go see two teams square off in mortal battle for our entertainment.  We can invest our emotions and personal identities in whether our favorite team wins of loses.

The promoters create artificial situations, like the Cowboys versus the Steelers.  The crowd chooses up sides, pays their taxes and takes their seats for the Big Event.  The two artificial rivals square off on the field with bone-crunching force.  The crowd goes wild as they watch the strategies unfold, the Hail Mary passes, the turn-overs.  They cheer their team and boo the other.

And the media lavish bags of cash on you to spew the whole spectacle to the outside world.

Oh sure, some of the fans in the seats get carried away and take the show too seriously.  Some fights break out and your personal security run over and beat them down into submission.  After all, the only bone-crunching allowed is the one you control and profit from.  Can't have the audience stealing the show, now can we?

The promoters are brilliant!  They bring all sorts of entertainment.  There's the one-on-one boxing matches, which you call 'summits'.  There's the team-versus-team match ups, which you call 'wars'.  There's the marine spectacles that involve competing teams shipping as much cargo to other teams as they can in the time allotted.  Once in a while, you even put on a Destruction Derby, where dozens of teams go at it, blowing up, running over and tearing down all the old props and scenery you've been wanting to get rid of.  You call these 'world wars'.

In between, you have the singers, dancers and performers, so that you can separate the most number of people from their money.  After all, not everyone wants to see all this rivalry stuff.

All the while, you and your buddies sit in your fabulously appointed penhouse suite at the very top of the stadium.  You don't really care about the entertainment.  Instead, you spend your time making guess-timates about how much money you're making off tonight's blow-out.

The promoters are happy, because they get a share of the profits.  The more people they can pack into the stands, the more they take home.  So they're motivated to bring in the top acts, the fiercest rivalries and the most calamity they can.

All the world's a stadium...

It's a brilliant system, as long as the crowd never thinks about who's making all the profit off this Big Game.  Once they figure out that they have to keep paying for everything, but really don't get much in return...once they figure out that the votes don't really change anything for them...once they figure out the whole thing is just bread-and-circuses with little or no redeeming value, they get upset and stop coming to your stadium.

You are forced to keep upping the ante, and put on ever more dazziling displays.  For this reason, you have a large gang of stage-hands and technicians devising bigger and better special effects.  You call them 'scientists'.  They're job is to make sure the crowds butts stay glued to the chairs, and that they keep paying top dollar for empty calories and sugar water and mind-blowing effects.

The problem comes when someone reads the legal mumbo-jumbo and gobbledy-gook on the back of the ticket.  They suddenly realize what they've given up for all this frantic fun.  They turn to the next guy and say, "Dude, look at this!"  Suddenly, a wave of discontent starts to sweep the stands.  People start to wonder just what the hell they've been doing all this time, wasting their lives on pablum and pancakes.

You panic.  It's time to pull out all the stops...

And that, my friends, is how the world works.

Now, if you're ready to read the back of the ticket, be warned.  Knowing the real, unvarnished truth will cause sleeplessness, irritability and depression.  You must fight these feelings and realize that there's work to be done.  From this point forward is the Red Pill.  Once you swallow it, there is no turning back...

There is a fantastic series of audio files by an Australian researcher named Frank O'Collins, which if you know anything about the history of the Collins clan, then you can imagine what you are about to learn.  The site is Talkshoe.com, and you'll want to start at Episode 1, or you'll be hopelessly overwhelmed.  Frank heads an organization called Ucadia University, which is dedicated to giving people the actual tools to fight the real problem with the world.  It's all documented with study materials and action plans.  I won't spoil it for you.  You just have to dive in and learn to swim.

The other is a three-hour YouTube video with a guy reading the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, since most people won't go and read them for themselves.  When you read/listen to the Protocols, forget all the propaganda and distractions.  Ignore the terms like 'jew' and 'goy'.  That's just there to throw us off from the scent of the real trail.  Instead, listen to the framework that is being spelled out, and remember these protocols were released to the world back in the mid-1800s, long before the technology to pull them off actually existed.  Prepare to have your world rocked!

Inside Broadcast News

There is nothing wrong with your television set. Do not attempt to adjust the picture. We are controlling transmission. If we wish to make it louder, we will bring up the volume. If we wish to make it softer, we will tune it to a whisper. We will control the horizontal. We will control the vertical. We can roll the image, make it flutter. We can change the focus to a soft blur or sharpen it to crystal clarity. For the next hour, sit quietly and we will control all that you see and hear. We repeat: there is nothing wrong with your television set. You are about to participate in a great adventure. You are about to experience the awe and mystery which reaches from the inner mind to — The Outer Limits. — Opening narration, The Control Voice, 1960s

So, CNN got caught with its pants down on the Syria Danny fiasco.  Lawzy lawzy!  You mean the media stage the news/?  Hooda thunk?  After all, EVERYthing you see on TeeVee is true, right?  OK, so this was an isolated incident as is not the usual way of things, right?

Poor media-slave.  You are woefully ignorant of how it all works.  Let me tell you a story...

In 1980, I was picking up extra money working as a stringer for a major US network at their Cairo office.  After being registered there for two and a half months, I was beginning to think that it wasn't going to pay much.  And I was getting tired of North Africa.  I wanted to get on with my travels.

I spent the day at the Great Pyramid and had decided to test the so-called pyramid power.  I was down to my last few bux, and while standing in the King's Chamber, I waited till the tour moved on, then I sent out a message that I needed some work.  I figured it couldn't hurt, right?

I got back to my boarding house about the time of evening prayer.  The house mother said a letter had come for me.  She rummaged through her room and produced the typewritten note.  I was to come to headquarters at 4am to start a week-long assignment.  H alleluia!  A week's pay could support me for four months on the road, if I was careful!

The next morning, I was briefed on the assignment.  The team (producer, sound and me-camera) were being flown to South Africa for a week.  Since none of the regulars wanted the assignment, we had no choice.  Our job was to shoot race riots.  The network wanted as much footage as we could amass of poor down-trodden blacks being suppressed by whites.  If we wanted to work again, we could not fail.

In Johannesburg, we got to our hotel, by which I mean the owner had hung a star over the door next to the word 'hotel' so it could be listed as such.  My room was a windowless, roach infested closet with a mattress that had springs sticking up through the sheet.
The sound guy and I checked out our equipment and got it in 'bug out' ready condition.  I was shooting the old standby Bell & Howell 16mm, a camera I knew inside and out, after spending a couple of years in high school making extra money shooting football games.

I pre-loaded five magazines and organized my pack.  I wanted to make sure that in the heat of a race riot, dodging projectiles and angry crowds, I could get anything I needed without looking.  The sound guy was doing the same thing.  The producer was on the hotel phone calling local connections to find out where the action was.  After an hour or so, she returned to our staging area looking pale and frustrated.

She couldn't find a riot.  She had called the local networks, a couple of local producers, and had even gone out to ask people on the street.  Nothing.  In fact, most folks looked at her like she was crazy.  "What riots?"

We spent four days of the six of our assignment like that, sitting in the 'lobby' of the 'hotel' waiting for the producer to dig up a riot.  We had a couple of tense moments when it seemed that tensions were rising here or there, but they turned out to be car accidents with the drivers getting into tussles.

On the morning of the fourth day, we got a call that there was going to be a major protest by white folks downtown in front of one of the government buildings.  We saddled up and got there before the protests had started.   The sound guy and I sat on a park bench arranging our gear for the 800th time since we got there.  The producer ran off to find some angry white folks.  She returned an hour later and said some people were gathering on the other side of the park.

After an hour or so, enough folks had gathered that they had started up with the chanting and sign-waving.  It was pretty lame stuff for a riot.  The producer ordered me to get as much 'angry faces' as I could, and I managed to shoot up a 10-minute reel.  I reloaded just in time for the crowd to start shifting, and then running.  The sound guy and I got in the middle of it and kept with the crowd.  Turned out it was a government minister's car entering the building and I got some great footage of people banging on the car, shaking fists and looking quite upset.  My Afrikaans was a little rusty, but eventually I gathered this whole event was about a proposed tax, which in all fairness was to fund clinics for poor blacks, but the anger was directed at payig more taxes, which I can sympathize with.

That night, I got the film developed and the sound guy and I packed up our footage and shipped it to Cairo next flight out.

Day five started out just as dull and lazy as the other four.  Around noon, the producer ran into my room breathless and yelled, "GO!"  Sound guy and I jumped and grabbed our gear and headed down to a waiting taxi.  Yes, she was a great producer...

We drove for what seemed like ages.  Out of Johannesburg and into the boonies.  We ended up in a small village, where the producer jumped out and talked to the first person she found.  He pointed and rattled on and she jumped in the taxi mid-sentence and told the driver to "GO!"

After a couple of minutes, we found it.  There were about 15 or 20 black folks on either side of the road yelling and throwing rocks and sticks at each other.  We baled out and started rolling.  I got great footage of angry faces, and a guy, like a cricket bowler, running up and hurling a rock across the street.

I climbed a tree and got a nice wide-shot.  I lay on the ground looking up at the 'rioters'.  I got close-ups, medium shots, two-shots.  I got action-reaction.  In all, I got about 18 minutes of footage...nearly two reels.  The producer was ecstatic.  The sound guy was waxing poetic about the yelling and chanting he had gotten.

The producer called a wrap and we piled back in the taxi and headed back to town.  "So what was that all about," I asked.

"The family in the white house accused the family in the grey house of stealing a chicken," she said.  "Did you get some good footage?"

"Great stuff," I replied.  "Kurosawa would be proud."

Back in town, the sound guy and I got down at the lab to develop the reels.  The producer went back to the 'hotel' to phone in to headquarters.  By the time we got back, the producer was jumping up and down.

"I got us an extra day's pay for hazardous duty!"  She was serious.  Not that we were complaining, of course.

Back in Cairo, the exec called us into the office the next day to say how pleased he was with our work.  Network had called and they said that we all had done great work.  They would let us know when the story ran.

The next morning, the sound guy knocked on the door.  "Let's go.  They just called and said our stuff is running on national tonight."  Tonight was local New York.

We sat around the feed.  The story was second lead.  They had cut the tax protest into the chicken war.  It looked as if Johannesburg was on fire, and had we stayed, we could have gotten the modern burning of Atlanta.

After the story finished, there were congrats all around and they handed out pay packets.  It was a healthy payday for an itinerant media dude.

Sound guy and I went out for a rare treat, Big Macs at the only McD's in Cairo and a couple of beers to wash it down.  We both didn't say much.  We just kind stared at eath other in disbelief.  Granted, we got some great stuff.  We it was cut together, it looked like we had been in the middle of a major race riot.  Even the anchor had given "that look" that let everyone know we had done a great job.  That was our congrats from the top.  Everyone lived and died on "that look."

That day, my eyes had opened.  I never saw the news the same way again.  I never worked directly for network news again, either, unless it was sports, which I justified because everyone knew it was bullshit anyway.  My conscience has bothered me ever since.

That CNN got caught this time is nothing.  It will blow over.  Folks will forget next week.  They will go on watching the news as if they are seeing real events and true depictions.  I can't.  I even called a friend in New York on 9/11 to verify what we saw really happened.  Of course, the lie there wasn't what we saw, but what we didn't see.

If you still  watch network news for anything other than pure entertainment value, then you need to head directly to a deprogramming center immediately.  The best option, as I always say, is turn the TeeVee off.

Better yet, watch a movie called, "Broadcast News," with Jack Nickolson and Bill Hurt.

Nice video of everything I just said...

Jonathan Corbett Is My Hero

I love it when normal, everyday folks show clearly that the US feral gummint has no intention of keeping its citizens safe, but rather are solely interested in terrorizing the citizenry into giving up their rights and dignity.

Thanks Jonathan!  You are a real hero!

Fed Up

Eric "Playtex" Holder

You know, I'm pretty much FED up with the endless stream of loose bowel droppings coming out of Washington, D.C.  Especially when that traitorous sack of horse-pucky that some politely call Eric Holder goes around saying the US gummint can kill anyone it wants, including US citizens overseas. whenever it damn well feels like it. 

This from, for the sake of brevity, a man who gladly sold guns to Mexican drug gangs so they could kill US citizens at home and justify taking guns away from lawful, real Americans.

Holder:  I've got something you can holder.  Come 'n' get it.

The US feral gummint is completely out of hand.  It rules not by laws but by might, and we all know that might does NOT make right.  Just look at the photo of that pansy-pated lump of dingo dung.  The only reason he talks so big is because he has the Western military-industrial-pharma coalition behind him.  If you met him alone in a dark alley, he'd start crying before you even threatened him.

Whatever happened to the days of Teddy Roosevelt?  The man couldn't read the Constitution either, but at least he had been in a couple of fist fights and won.  Holder, a.k.a sorry sack of horse-pucky, looks like he's never dirtied himself other than when in the presence of real men.

And his boss?  Ha!  That runt with the silky voice?  The guy whose only achievements came from padding a resume and falsifying legal documents?  The Man O'Peace who has ordered so many people to die killing other people because he's too chicken shit to take a real stand on something...anything?  The blithering bag of bones who couldn't think he way INTO a paper bag, much less OUT of one?  Need I say more?

You know, it's easy for whimpy jerks to talk tough when they have nukes in hardened bunkers, but it's entirely different when they actually have to put up their own blood and pain.  In fact, if the UN really wanted to do something useful for the first time in it's history, it would pass a law that all world leaders who want to attack other world leaders have to meet at Madison Square Garden and duke it out on global TeeVee.

Vlad "the Impaler" Putin

Yeah, what a great idea!  No more wars, just no-holds-barred nut cutting between world leaders.  That would shut them up in a big damn hurry.  It would also cause countries like the US to elect people like Jesse Ventura president.

Look at Vlad Putin.  Don't care what you think about his politics, the man gets out and does manly stuff.  Not like G.D. Bush, who shoots his buddies in the face.  I mean, like real manly stuff.  And he even gets large groups of women to bare their breasts to protest in his favor!  Now there's a real man!

American women, if they muster any emotions for Bammy at all, want to mother him, not breed with him.

But back to my idea...

Suppose Nutty-Yahoo and Ahmadenijad had to go at it for 10 rounds.  The winner got all of the other guy's nukes.  Now we're talkin' global politics!  Suppose Bammy had to go mano-a-mano with an Iraqi/Afghan to be named later.  Think of the ad revenues, the eyeballs glued to TeeVee sets!

Why, I'd pay good money to see G.D. Shrub and Saddam Hussein duke it out.  Que es mas macho?  How about a double team of Merkel and Sarko vs. Papdemos and Monti.  All's fair.  Merkel can strip to distract if she thinks that would help.

Special double feature: Benedict XVI vs. Muhammad Ahmad Hussein.  Winner takes all.  That's the opening act for Lee Myung-Bak vs. Kim Jong-whoever, brought to you live from the DMZ without commercial interuption.  Sponsored by LG electronics and Hyundai!

Yes, this the way to do things.  Man to man, Merkel excepted.  Let the jerks who would send our kids off to die get out there and trade punches in front of a global audience.  The winner is crowned with larel leaves, and the loser faces a long re-election battle.

We could dispense with all the hardware and tough talkin' panty-waists like Holder.  We could get rid of dried up Marxists like Hillary.  We could put all the trillions of dollars in war spending to far better use.  And we would all get really good entertainment in the process.  The media is happy.  We're happy.  And we dont' have to listen to boob-sucking bucketheads like Holder telling us how he has the legal right go around popping anyone he damn well feels like.

Barak "Mammy's Bammy" Obama

In fact, I issue this challenge.  Holder, get your sorry, flabby carcass over here and take me on.  I'll set up the venue and pre-sell all the adverts.  I'm a holder of a US passport and I live overseas.  C'mon toilet-breath.  I dare you.  I'll bet you're the dark part of the slime that pops out of the back end of a hen.  And guess what?  It will all be nice and legal like, too!

Yeah, I didn't think so.

Please Release Me

If you're a webbot fan, then you're probably sitting in front of your screen slack-jawed at global events this past few days.  You know that those bots have long been predicting the beginning of a major release period about now, and so far, events have followed suit.

March began with the release of Sheriff Joe's investigation into the supposed birth certificate released by Obama last April.  At the same time, Andrew Breitbart was released from his mortal existence on the day he was set to release video showing Obama hanging out with notorious Weather Underground figures.  Mother Nature released a hell-storm on the central US.  Obama released yet another offensive on the Constitution and Rule of Law.  GM released 1,300 from their jobs because the Car that Fascism Built didn't work and blew up a lot.  The Japanese released a new 'gun' that causes the brain to seize up and the target to stop talking in mid-sentence.

The list goes on, all over the world in many ways.  TSA is released to start groping drivers on the streets of the US.  A bomb was released on a Saudi pipeline.  Iran released more oil despite sanctions. 

And on it goes...

This is only the beginning, if the bots are to be believed.  They predict a period of release language the likes of which living human beings have never seen before.  It is bundled up with Secrets Revealed, of which there are plenty in the news, and the Israeli Mistake, which is being set up even as we speak (if they decide to attack Iran in the face of decreasing global support).  There will be a number of space-related events, of which the Sun's decreasing number of sunspots as it nears the peak of its cycle could be one.  If we take the years-long prediction more or less literally, then the coming weeks will be an amazing time.

Whether or not you follow the bots is irrelevant.  They are entertaining distractions for those of us who look for patterns in an otherwise senseless world.  What we can say is that global events are taking an interesting turn for the chaotic.  It seems that in every aspect of life and in every corner of the planet, there are abnormal events taking place.  A great number of events are coming to a head that have been building for some time.  The Iran situation alone has been 20 years in the making, even longer, really.

Last week, in one day, oil shot past $110/barrel and gold shed $100/ounce.  The EU is still in existence, despite anything nearing common sense, but that may not be true much longer.  The only economy still standing, Asia, is quietly unloading western debt paper and their chairs at the auctions have been empty for some time.

Even Antarctica has gotten in on the act.  A Russian team feared lost for a time suddenly showed back up and claimed to have finally tapped Lake Vostok after 20 years of drilling.  Meantime, a Norwegian lab blew up and killed a number of scientists (story has disappeared), while an iceberg the size of New York started a life on its own.

Everywhere one looks, there are rumors and events of increasing interest and visibility that have the ability to change global events in significant and profound ways.  It makes for some fine popcorn quality time in front of the global peep-hole we call the internet.  One gets the feeling that a great many folks are ready to sweep the table clear and start fresh with a whole new set of problems, and that wish may be unfolding before our eyes.

The coming days and months will tell the tale for the course of world events for some time to come.  Perhaps the US storms are a metaphor for coming social and political storms.  The sky is growing increasingly unsettled and there is a change in the air.  It might be a good time to open the storm cellar and clear out the cobwebs.

Think of it as a fire drill.  A little practice never hurts, since being able to act in a meaningful way when chaos is swirling around our heads is never a bad idea.  Universe favors the prepared mind.

The nice thing about storms, though, is the fresh, clean air behind them.

By the way, while you're at it and you're one of the cool people who use Firefox, check out the new add-on called Collusion.  It lets you see which sites are sending your info to which other sites, and which are tracking you even after five or 10 sites..  Puts a slight bit of power back in your hands.
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And now, for the Sunday Funnies.  This is an oldie, but goodie, and always worth a rerun.
http://www.wnd.com/2012/03/sheriff-joes-posse-probable-cause-obama-certificate-a-fraud/

Texian Independence Day!

One hundred and seventy seven years ago today, a group of men gathered at Washington-on-the-Brazos, Texas, and produced the Texas Declaration of Independence.  This group of Mexican citizens, living in the state of Coahuilla y Tejas, had grown tired of the authoritarian abuses of Mexico City, and the systematic rape of the wealth and productivity of the Texian people.

They declared themselves independent and set off a particularly brutal campaign by General de Santa Ana, who slaughtered peaceful farmers and burned towns to the dirt.  He killed thousands of people, with the worst having been at the Alamo in what is now San Antonio, and a small town called Goliad in Southeast Texas.

After a rather nasty sweep across East Texas, Santa Ana pitched camp on the banks of Buffalo Bayou, on a tongue of land at a bend in the river.  One thousand five hundred Mexican troops bivouaced there and tried to wash the Texian blood off their hands and clothes.  An additional 5,000 troops were scattered across the region.

Meanwhile, as legend has it, a beautiful young woman of mixed heritage, known to history only as the Yellow Rose, volunteered to go into the camp and keep Santa Ana distracted.  At the same time, General Sam Houston's small army massed only a thousand yards away, with his 900 troops.

Deciding on a surprise attack, Houston chose siesta time in mid-afternoon, when the Mexican army would be napping.  In fact, they were so relaxed that they forgot to post scouts, and Santa Ana was otherwise engaged with the Yellow Rose.

The 900 Texians came blazing into the camp while the Mexicans were still trying to put on their pants.  The battle raged for 18 minutes, before Santa Ana fled with a handful of soldiers.  The 900 Texians killed more than 600 Mexican troops, and captured over 700 more, while only loosing 9 Texians.  It was April 21, 1836.  It is still the most decisive and shortest battle in western history.

Santa Ana was later captured trying to skedaddle back to Mexico, and in a famous scene memorialized in the Texas capitol, he signed surrender papers  and was sent back to Mexico City to sue for recognition of Texas' independence.

Ultimately, the Texians formed a nation that stretched from the Rio Grande to southern Wyoming, taking in parts of modern day New Mexico, Colorado, Oklahoma, and Kansas.  Those latter parts were sold the US for what is worth $1 trillion in silver today, in order to pay off the war debt and jump-start the ailing economy.  The US, of course, never paid.

Instead, US president Polk and Texian president Houston made some backroom deals to 'annex' Texas as a state.  This is in spite of both constitutions not granting powers of annexation, and overwhelming public sentiment against such a move.  Houston's name has since been besmirched as a traitor to the nation he helped to found.

The US wanted a buffer against Mexican invasion, since they were stealing land from Mexico right and left.  They didn't trust the Texas nation to side with them in this effort, so Polk made it a campaign promise to steal Texas and use it to shield their worthless hides.

However, the Texian people were not happy about it, and 18 years later voted overwhelmingly to secede from the US and become independent once again.  The last battles of the US War of Yankee Aggression were fought in Texas, as the Yankee bastards tore through the country, much like Santa Ana, killing and burning everything in sight.

The US army eventually came to the capitol in Austin and lined the Congress up on the lawn in front of a firing squad, threatening to shoot every one of them if they didn't pass a law declaring Texas a state again.  The cowardly Congress did it.

A sham election followed in which only people who swore allegiance to the US were allowed to vote.  Needless to say, that vote was a fraud that has been perpetuated to this day.

Modern Texians have won court cases granting Texas 'captive nation of war' status, and granting the Texian people a judgement in the amount of $1 trillion in silver.  Both have been soundly ignored by the tyrannical US government.  Efforts continue, however, to free Texas from the occupying forces and free her to once again take her place among free nations of the world.

Today, Texas is the size of Germany, with an economy that would rank it #11 among the world's largest.  The population has exploded from several hundred thousand to nearly 30 million.  Some of the largest high-tech companies in the world are in Texas, and it has the only hydrogen plant in the world, and the US' only weapons-grade plutonium plant.

The Texas capitol is taller and bigger than the US capitol, and is made of native pink granite.  By law, it is the tallest building allowed in Austin.  The floor of the capitol still bears the seal of the Republic of Texas, and the portraits in the Grand Gallery begin with the Texas presidents.

When I was a kid, today was still a holiday.  It was celebrated more vigorously than July 4th, with the Houston Fat Stock Show and Rodeo as the central event.  Texas is known throughout the world as the global center for cowboys and petroleum.

I'm proud to say that my family has been instrumental in Texas history.  The first European medical doctor in Texas was my great-great grandfather, Gideon Linscom, whose studies of Kickapoo medicine and work with the Apache and Comanche indians earned my family the crossed arrows of brotherhood.

My great uncle was one of the first prosecutors to be admitted to Texas Supreme Court practice.  My father served in the Legislature for 12 years, was very nearly governor, and was a key figure bringing down the Johnson Machine and the current dominance of the Republican party in Texas.  Rick Perry owes him a debt of gratitude.

Finally, my great-uncle, William Davis Durham, is listed among the 900 on the wall at San Jacinto as a hero of Texian independence.  I am a seventh-generation Texian, with roots that are deep in the Heart of Texas.

Happy Independence Day to my beloved Republic.  Here's hoping that she will one day stand free again from the claws of tyranny, and take her rightful place among the great nations of the world.