he who is known as sefton

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Location: Susquehanna Depot, Pennsylvania, United States

Well, if you got here via the bi-chromatic Universe and "Dez", thanks. Their being available means they can be rented out, so to say, to vendors. For example, they'd be great in promoting pastries. Kids love cookies, so do adults. As for that ascending numeral three, it came about by way of ignorance. More than once, I'd see that same numeral with wings or a halo or both even on this or that pickup truck. And, dumb me, I'd think they were like golden horse shoes or four-leaf clovers ... good luck charms. It wasn't until later, I found out those threes are meant to commemorate one posthumously charismatic NASCAR driver. To inspire all those signs of grief, that guy might've had the makings for ... well, that's likely better left to the intuition of NASCAR votaries.

Monday, July 24, 2006

. . . more "italian" than you realize . . .

This bit of duologue must've occurred, while we were into our fourth six-pack of COORS. Elsewhere in this blog, one finds bits and pieces about Avram Beilitzsyn. Anyway, he fixed me with a strange stare, and then said something like,

"You're Italian . . . sure, you're Italian."

After the third six-pack, I suppose, one should expect political correctitude to have departed the scene. Even so, I was taken aback. He meant Italian, but he used instead an ethnic slur.

Emphasizing the proper term, I responded, like so,

"Yes, I'm of Italian descent."

Both of my parents immigrated to the states from Italy. My father became a naturalized citizen, while he was serving in the army near Hattiesburg, Mississippi. And my mother received her citizenship by virtue of her marriage to my father. What's more, I was born in the states. And I served in the Naval Reserves, leaving with an honorable discharge.


And then, I was taken aback even more, when Avram declared there was a profoundly mystical bond between Italians and Jews. He meant Jews, but he used instead an ethnic slur that could've landed Mel Gibson into an ocean of hot water. I mean the ensuing kerfaffle would've been intense enough to necessitate wearing sack cloth and ashes for all of this year and the next.

Being fairly well educated, I was aware of a certain event that had taken place in Judea, while Tiberius was Roman emperor. Given a deeply spiritual orientation, one might imagine the possibility of a profoundly mystical bond between Italians and Jews.

I once chuckled over a passage in the novel CALL IT SLEEP. Wherein, a group of Jewish urchins urge several anti-semitic urchins to bother the Italians, because they're the ones who actually crucified Christ.

For a second there, mouth agape, all I could do was stare at Avram, as he took a swig from his can of COORS. Concluding a burp with a sigh of satisfaction, he returned my stare with a jagged grin. This time, he eschewed ethic slurs.

"As an American, you're more Italian than you realize . . . a hell'uva lot more Italian than you realize."

To divert him from what might be a perturbing turn in conversation, I asked him who was playing center field for the Detroit Tigers, the last time they had a decent chance for a pennant.

. . . yeah, memory does play funny tricks . . . that duologue sprang into my waking awareness, when I visited the blogsite that rejoices under the logo HEAR, O ISRAEL. If you thought that logo text was a hyperlink, sorry about your disappointment.

Eventually, dear Reader and, I hope, devoted fan, you'll be directed to visit that blogsite. After you scroll down a little ways during your visit, you'll find on the right hand side, a blog roll of sites that cater to those with an interest, in one way or other, in Italian culture.

Given a deeply spiritual orientation, one might then posit that blog roll as evidence for the possibility of a profoundly mystical bond between Jews and Italians. In fact, one so oriented might even allow that such is more than possibility, rather it's fact . . . and pretty obvious fact, at that . . . once more, intuitively obvious.

Being fairly well educated, I can occasionally reach into my memory, and pull up these neat quotes from Greek philosophy. Wood'jah (?) buh-leave! This is the place for one, and I'm quoting,

". . . the music that is unheard is stronger than the music that is heard . . ."

Because it's not so obvious, the profoundly mystical bond between this country and Israel is even more potent than that between Italy and Israel.

Please don't bother looking here for an explanation why so. My five doughnuts to somebody's three, whatever explanation somebody can adduce, it won't be so simple as, say, a crucifixion.

Some pundit or other could very likely refer to those fundamentalist so-called Christians. All in all, they're supposed to all hot and bothered about the Rapture that'll taken place, sometime after the Jews re-build their temple in Jerusalem. Maybe, that pundit would blame those fundamentalists for that bond.

So far as I can tell, albeit being adamantly adiaphorestic, that ain't it. The yearning of those fundamentalists for that aforementioned re-building is symptom rather than cause.

Some historians might claim the bond started with George Washington's letter of welcome to Jews, driven by poverty from Brazil. In the country that's dedicated to life and liberty and the pursuit of happiness, Jews were allowed to reach for the moon, if they so wished.

Quite frankly, I think it would make more sense to refer to how deeply African slaves in this country identified with the Hebrews in the Old Testament, yearning to be free of Pharaoh's yoke. In a way, the ensuing war between the Union and the Confederacy polished that profoundly mystical bond. And I'm advancing that hypothesis in spite of my being adamantly adiaphorestic.

Well, if there's an upshot to all the foregoing, it would be something like this. I almost feel sorry for those fools, bent on the destruction of Israel. If only they knew, what a big brother Israel has in the United States of America.

. . . oh, alright (!) already, I should talk. Until very recently, I was just as purblind as those fools.. . . oh, well, they had their chance and they blew it, as I write elsewhere in this blog . . . eYep, they blew it . . . for one point one billion of their co-coreligionists . . .

toodles
...../
.he who is known as sefton

. . . oh, darn, almost forgot, here's the hyperlink to

HEAR, O ISRAEL . . . incidentally, "Alexander Stella's Musings" under the "Blogs of Interest" heading is a hyperlink back to this blog . . .

EPIMETHEAN COMMENT . . .

. . . oh, br'dah, that Avram . . . no doubt about it . . . he grew on'ya . . . no, he was hardly one wild and crazy guy . . . still, whatever the government, the authorities found him a bit much . . .

Anyway, I realize now that this post contains way more of his temperament than it should . . . sorry about that.


For him, that alleged bond between Italians and Jews was an affair of spirit. For him, it was real. I mean "real" in the sense that shaving cream is real, that morning coffee is real, that a summer squall is real.

Back then and today, that alleged bond is instead, for me, a matter for psychology.

I've been accused of having an extremely snide component in my temperament. There's no denying that accusation. It's true.

Just how those profoundly spiritual bonds come to exist, so far as I can tell, nobody has ever been wise enough to disclose. For my part, I doubt anybody so wise as all that would be foolhard enough to do so.

For no particular reason, I mused about the situation, in which Pontius Pilate found himself. According to the New Testament, he could find no mortal offense in that religious proctalgesiac.


As the Roman procurator for Judea, it was his job to keep the peace in the province. A troubled province meant loss of tax revenue, whereas a peaceable one expedited tax collection. So, it's really small wonder he opted for crucifixion.

Just off the top of my head, I surmise Pilate accorded the people he governed in the name of Tiberius even less respect than he did maggots.


Had he but even suspected he was about to give people such as Avram license to posit a profoundly spiritual bond between those eternal maggots and the legatees of the eternal city, I wonder, would (?) that Roman procurator for Judea have made a far different decision . . . say, exile to some Roman outpost on the Black Sea.

In that situation, that religious proctalgesiac might have founded a movement, destined to fade into oblivion.

There really is precious little I may advance as a surmise about what Avram, were he around today, would say about the relationship between the two aforementioned profoundly spiritual bonds. Did (?) the existence of the prior one enable the forging of the later.

. . . well, that's speculation both way beyond me and way above my pay grade, which by the way is nothing. Truth be told, I have neither the credentials nor the training nor even the slightest ambition for it . . .

I still say, "It's a matter for psychology."

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Wednesday, July 19, 2006

reckoned in bloodshed

. . . by the bye, this graphic can be enlarged for greater legibility by merely clicking on it . . .





Call me cynical. One may as well. So far as I'm concerned, there's no reason for any visitor to this blogsite to be an exception. From what I can discern, people, who profess to know me, claim I know the price of everything, but the value of nothing.

Alas, there's quite a bit of truth in the claim. The "price of everything" is a tad beyond me. I think it's more like, and I'm avouching here and now, "the price of one hell'uva lot".


In my defense, I'm sure I know the value of a few things, at least. For example, I do know the value of the right to know better today than I did yesterday. With me, it's a point of honor to insist on that right. Pridefully, I exercise that right.

All the foregoing having been read by you, dear visitor and reader, I should now like to animadvert to the price of charity. Yes and yes again, there is a type of charity that does indeed come with a price. True enough, charity, in the best sense of the word, does indeed cover a multitude of sins . . . truth be told, it's a crying shame that so many trusting souls have been and are being ensnared by bait in the guise of charity.

So, I've been told. Among the peasants of Italy's Lazio region, there's a maxim. And I'm quoting by way of "honed" translation,

"Beware the charity dispensed by the bloodthirsty. The price they mean to exact is reckoned in bloodshed."

Yes, I do mean to refer to politics.

Now, I should like to animadvert to politics in my own country, the United States of America. Every so often, I hear certain members of our nattering nabobs of punditry employ the term "red meat". In this case, the term refers to galvanizing this or that rightwing constituency with promises to realize certain political ambitions.

Refining it just a little more, those nattering nabobs mention such political ambitions as "restoring prayer in public school" or "outlawing flag desecration", or even "defending the Pledge of Allegiance".

Funniest thing about those political ambitions, their realization would do nothing to hire more qualified teachers to instruct America's children, would do nothing to enable the unemployed to find sustentative work, would do nothing to improve the country's deteriorating infrastructure, would do nothing to reduce the national debt by even so much as a dollar . . . and the list of "would do nothing to" goes on and on.

So far as I'm concerned, a far better term for those political ambitions is "RUBE ROAST". I admit to a certain affection for the word "rube". Supposedly, it's in the jargon of carny folk to refer to anyone, who is accorded the status of either bumpkin or clodhopper or yokel or boor or lout or oaf or gawk, or even gorpe. And "roast" does refer to meat that's been cooked, and is ready to serve.

. . . okay, dear visitor and Reader, or better yet devoted fan, ever so carefully scan your immediate environment . . . make sure nobody's looking over your shoulder . . . I shall confirm what you must be conjecturing . . .

. . . yes and yes again, this piece is meant to allude to those, who should be held accountable for upheaval in that portion of the world, holy to the three major Abrahamic ways of faith.

. . . stick with me, until the very end, and I'll disclose a "dirty little secret" . . . aaaay, c'mon, fess up, don'cha just love "dish" . . .

toodles
....../
.he who is known as sefton


EPIMETHEAN COMMENT ==>

When it rains, so says Holy Writ, it rains on good and bad alike . . . ya'know, something similar can be said about Murphy's Law: whatever can go wrong shall go wrong. Good or bad, none can evade Murphy's Law.

For my part, I suspect there's an adjunct to that law. At the moment, I'm at a loss as to how formulate it. Well, however that adjunct gets formulated, it will involve the jeopardy of "unintended consequences". That much I'll cheerfully uphold with a wager of my five doughnuts to somebody's three. Just as neither the good nor the bad can evade Murphy's Law, nor can either evade the jeopardy of unintended consequences.

Whatever one's opinion of the people, who make up Hezbollah, they're human, and as such they are susceptible to the jeopardy of unintended consequences. Perhaps, they were clever enough to plan for the displacement of their civilians, from the areas now under bombardment.

As those displaced persons fled into Beirut to escape that bombardment, they were met with a bit of luck, While they were on the road, that city's wealthier residents vacated their digs to avoid bombardment.


Consequently, an abundance of opulent shelter became available to house those displaced people, for whose displacement plans had been made by Hezbollah . . . clever son'uva'guns, ain't they?!

The unintended consequences shall come about, after the guns go silent. Not long after that, the wealthier residents of Beirut will return, and reclaim their opulent digs. Naturally, they'll expect their "guests" to vacate quietly, and return to the latter's place of residence.

Here I'm going out on a limb. Still, I'm willing to wager my five doughnuts to somebody's three that those latter places of residence suffer mightily in comparison to those former opulent digs in Beirut. For the first time, those displaced persons will realize they've been living in hovels.

Here's the thing about opulence. Just one taste does wonders to fire the appetite for it. After experiencing how their colleague Lebanese live, the returning displaced persons will hardly be content to reside in hovels.

For my part, I doubt they'll be put off with promises of better living conditions AFTER the destruction of Israel . . . not when they know damn well ever so many of their colleague Lebanese aren't waiting for the destruction of Israel to live the way human beings should.


And to top it all off, those "impatient" Lebanese were obviously loathe to risk so much as a paper cut. By comparison, those aforementioned displaced persons suffered mightily for such a "noble" cause.

. . . oh, yeah, as those displaced persons go about vacating those opulent digs, quite a few among them will help themselves to "souvenirs". In more than a few instances, the people re-claiming their residences will discover their residences, stripped to bare walls and floors. Naturally enough, the people, who did the stripping will feel justified. After all, they suffered horribly, and so deserve some sort of relief. . . .

. . . ah, yes, my little chick-a-dees, there will be all kinds of rancor and recrimination, after the guns go silent . . .

In an attempt to demonize the Israelis, those public relations mavens for Hezbollah marvelously re-enforced that message the Israeli government would like the Arab masses to take to heart. So far as I can discern, conjecturing from the movie MUNICH, the message is, and I'm quoting, "killing Jews is serious business."

The message got re-enforced by Hezbollah's teevee broadcasters, as they reported on a speech by the Israeli legislator. With the aid of some sort of graphic software, those broadcasters appended a swastika on the man's right sleeve. And that was followed by an abbreviated mustache . . . think of Groucho Marx's mustache with its length shortened . . . shades of das dritte Reich . . .

That shenanigan gave me an insight into the "dyslore" of the Arab masses. In this instance, the originating personality for that dyslore is endowed with demonic capacity for death and destruction. It's not that big a leap of inference to posit that even trifling with anybody with such demonic capacity can easily lead to "serious business".


. . . Hezbollah's dirty little secret . . .

. . . dear visitor and, so I hope, devoted fan, I should like you to recall that maxim that's circulated like small change amongst the peasants of the Lazio region. In this instance, let's animadvert to the recipients of that charity.

Well, those recipients were allegedly complimented in a taunt meant by Hezbollah for the ears of the Israeli military. Supposedly, that military was surprised by the willingness of those recipients of Hezbollah's charity to make sacrifices, as that military went about the business of pulverizing Hezbollah.

Just so happens, that taunt is a veiled insult to those recipients. So long as those recipients were assured that the price that would be reckoned in bloodshed would be borne solely by the Israelis, the former accepted that charity with effusive gratitude. As surprised as the Israeli military, as claimed by Hezbollah, must've been, the recipients of Hezbollah's charity must've been even more surprised.

. . . what a bitter lesson!

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Monday, July 10, 2006

of mice and martyrs

Where elephants jostle, mice are grease spots. The immediately preceding is my version of an African proverb. Wood'ja (?) buh-leave! It has a profound application to the situation, which was sparked by the very recent abductions of Israeli soldiers.

Supposedly, those two abductions are meant to force the Israeli government to swap "wanna'be martyrs", now incarcerated in Israeli prisons, for those abducted soldiers. Likely enough, the people, who did the abductions, have absolutely no idea about the alternatives, they have presented the Israeli government.

Ever so subtly, the commentators and the wize'asses in our American mass media are insinuating that "back-door" negotiations are taking place to resolve the situation in both Lebanon and Gaza. Meanwhile, the Israeli government is left to wonder about those alternatives.

One being, that government could sent back heroes. Just so happens, some of those heroes are spending a second stint in Israeli prisons. They were freed in a previous swap. It's a good guess the Israelis are loathe to give them a chance to spend a third stint.

Besides, there's a big problem with heroes, so far as the Israelis are concerned. Once freed, those re-polished or newly minted heroes will be sorely tempted to gad about, boasting about their exploits. In so doing, they're bound to inspire more heroes.


And even worse, they're living assurances that it would be possible for those, so inspired, to be freed in a future prisoner swap, should they be captured. Again, the Israelis are loathe to tolerate incarcerating more heroes.

Then there's the other alternative. The Israelis could create martyrs. One nice thing about martyrs, from the Israeli point of view, they're highly unlikely to gad about, boasting.

With regret, the Israeli government may soon announce that so many "wanna'be martyrs" died in their attempt to escape. The very next day, during the negotiations for a cease-fire to resolve the situation in Lebanon and Gaza, so many more "wanna'be martyrs" will have died in their attempt to escape.

From what little is available to judge the intent of the Israeli government and Israelis in general, this hunch is literally inevasible. They'll both cheerfully rot in hell, long before they'll send back heroes.

But there's a problem with martyrs, so might one cavil. Martyrs supply lots of inspiration for others to "take up the quarrel with the foe". So far as the Israelis are concerned, there's already a plethora of martyrs to supply more than enough inspiration. Tossing another batch of martyrs onto the pile won't make much of a difference, if any.

Oh, yeah, let's get to those grease spots, formerly mice.

Before going onto Lebanon, let's skim the situation in Gaza . . . ahnghgh, may as well begin with a sick joke that has Israelis whinging and chuckling at once. It wasn't the bombs and bullets that finally drove them out of Gaza. It was the stench.

From what American media has to report, no worthwhile Arab gives two shits about the suffering the Palestinians, who live in Gaza, are enduring. Anybody with such self-loathing as to voluntarily reside in Gaza is completely undeserving of respect or charity.

This contempt is even shared by colleague Palestinians. If the Palestinians, who live on the West Bank, cared about their Gaza siblings, the former would try to open another front in the current bloodshed. Shouldn't (?) they be trying to relieve the pressure on the "wanna'be martyrs" in Gaza!

Here's the thing about Lebanon. Before the decision was taken to abduct Israeli soldiers, Syrian intelligence warned the perpetrators about what the Israelis had in mind for the abductors. For five years, the Israelis had been planning their reprisal with just such a blunder in mind.

Well, just so happens, Iranian intelligence assured the abductors that Syrian intelligence was full of shit. Abducting those Israeli soldiers would lead necessarily to a prisoner swap. Consequently, the Muslim struggle against Israel would be enhanced.

So far as the Iranians are concerned, they're benefiting from the destruction of Lebanon, now taking place. It's a great distraction from their pursuit of weapons-grade nuclear material.

Again, let's go back to those grease spots, formerly mice.

It's all too obvious that the dumb shit fools, who abducted those Israeli soldiers had absolutely no business toying around in global Realpolitik. Now they're finding out the hard way that the money and weapons, which they received for harassing the Israelis, came with one hellacious price.

Lemme tell'ya sum't'n. Once than once, I've had to endure talks that had been introduced with the assurance, and I'm quoting, "boy, are we going to talk!"

Very shortly after the insinuated negotiations come to a conclusion, the dumb shit fools, directly responsible for abducting the Israeli soldiers, are in for talk that is, at least, hundred times greater in magnitude and intensity than I ever had to go through.

. . . no and no, I have absolutely no sympathy for anybody, stupid enough to necessitate just such talk.

toodles
...../
.he who is known as sefton





Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to promulgate . . . tah'dah! . . .

The SEFTON STATEMENT . . .

Yes and yes, again, I violate the American r├Ęgle du jeu. And I do so in three specific ways.

First, I insist on the right to know better today than I did yesterday.

Second, I insist on thinking for myself.

Truth be told, I take pride in those first two ways, in which I violate "the rules". As for the third, I avouch that I have absolutely no right to take similar pride. So far as I'm concerned, it would be not unlike taking pride in my having been born with ten toes, and only one rectal orifice.


I mean something, over which I lack control. Although I do have some control over my snide sense of humor, and that means I'm not above paying a little homage to Lenny Bruce.

Here's the third way. Try as hard as I might, I am unable to take people, who dislike me, all that seriously.

With the exception of those three ways, in which I violate the rules, I'm pretty much law abiding. For example, if I get a parking ticket, I pay the fine. What's more, I deliberately comport myself in as courteous manner, as appropriate to the situation.

Here's a "for example". When some thirteen-year-old girl tried to lift my pocket, I broke her fingers.




* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * lye'kah * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * bolt * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * ah'da'dah * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * blue * *

I know better today than I did yesterday. And so, I sent a reader's letter to the good people at The PRESS & SUN-BULLETIN, which is the paper of record for the twin tiers of New York's Broome County , and sort of for Pennsylvania's Susquehanna County. Anyway, here's the text, which is below and just after the colon:

"True enough, there are a couple links between the current situations, in which Lebanese and Palestinians are suffering. In a sense, the causative link happens to be a certain goal that is shared by two organizations. No sense being subtle, one may as well come out and say, "the destruction of Israel".

"According to our national media, both situations were occasioned by the abduction of Israeli military personnel. For no particular reason, I mused about what could be the topmost priority for either organization, just now alluded to.

"Is (?) their topmost priority the well being of the people, either organization claims to serve! Or is it something else. Is (?) their topmost priority the destruction of Israel.

"Musing just a little further, one might ask the question, which is concerned with the suffering, now afflicting Palestinians and Lebanese. What (?) is the greatest amount of suffering that can be justified by pursuing the destruction of Israel."


. . . okay, dear Reader, ever so discreetly, look around . . . make sure nobody's looking over your shoulder . . . what you're about to see is meant only for you and me and the monitor screen . . .

I'm almost ashamed to own up to it . . . but I did do a little self-censoring . . . here's text with which what I dearly wanted to conclude the above letter . . . the text is below and in red font . . .

The next time the Lebanese go to the polls and just before they cast their ballot, they should ask themselves this question. Is the person, for whom they're ultimately voting, a true Lebanese patriot? Or is that person a pathological Israel hater? . . . oh, yeah, the same applies to Palestinians.

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Thursday, July 06, 2006

jay and fitz and kay spell poison



Call me philosophaster . . . eYep, once again, I'm being snide with a reference to the first sentence in the most famous but least read novel in American literature. Nonetheless, I think I'm entitled.

In the first several paragraphs, I hope I'm communicating with my colleague Americans . . . I wrote "colleague" simply as courtesy. Our presidential "election" in 2000 resulted in the residency of "dum'ass botch" in the White House . . . please note, dear Reader, the first set of enclosing quotes in the immediately preceding text.

A large number of Americans, me being among same, blame this result, in large part, on the vainglory of Ralph "raphie boy" Nader, one-time cultural hero, now and forever pariah . . . oh, yeah, and the laughing stock of this country's right wing . . . oh, let's avoid all the seamy details, and slash to the cheese.

Talk about irony! The Democratic Party of today owes the major share of its current resurgence to ralphie boy. It was he who has, for the next two generations at least, poisoned the ground for a third party. Americans, who are thoroughly disgruntled with the administration of dum'ass botch, have nowhere else to go.

Every so often, I listen to talk radio luminary Randi Rhodes. On occasion, she has to deal with a caller, who complains bitterly about the Democrats. Why (?) aren't they, so bitches the caller, stopping the inanities, being perpetrated by the Republicans under the leadership of dum'ass botch.

So far, all I've heard with regard to curbing the aforementioned mismanagement relates to the Democratic Party. So far, I've yet to hear any talk about founding a third party.

It's gotta be as obvious as a baboon's butt . . . so thoroughly discredited has the once up-and-coming Green Party become that the stench of fiasco permeates the nostrils of anybody, who voted for or wishes had voted for the candidate, who suffered defeat at the hands of the Supreme Court of the United States of America.

Now that I've given my colleague Americans some inkling of what is here meant by "poison", I should like to animadvert to that American president, who assigned this country the task of landing a man on the moon, and returning same safely to earth.

Yes and yes again, I mean President John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Elsewhere, I've ventured the opinion that he fractured the backbone of the so-called Union of Soviet Socialistic Republics . . . at bottom, Russia in the guise of a beacon for a world-wide proletarian revolution . . . oh, br'dah, what a sorry joke!

Talk about irony! When he took office, he kvetched about the soviets' attitude. Good ole J.F.K must've believed they operated under the presupposition, and I'm quoting, "what's ours is ours, what's yours is negotiable". More than likely, the thought of accomplishing what he did had never occurred to him.

Even more so, he died, never even suspecting the lunar project he had launched would eventually poison Islam. Maybe, what's meant by "poison" in this instance should be explained. If so, let's take for example a rattle snake. As such, a rattle snake is a POISONOUS reptile. That reptile POISONS whatever person it bites. And the person thus bitten is POISONED.


Elsewhere, I've written about the ignominies, under which that major faith must bear. For one, the timetable for religious observance by the Faithful is determined by the phases of a monument to American infidel technology.

For centuries, the major graphic symbol for Islam is the crescent, which represents the moon. Because the crescent links both the Message of the Prophet and the heavens, it has an even deeper meaning for Islam, than does the cross for Christianity.

. . . oh, yeah, and there's the other ignominy . . . the Temple Mount, which ever so many Muslims claim has nothing to do with the Jewish temple that was destroyed by the Romans, now has all the significance of a consolation prize. As if to rub salt in wounded pride, I issue a challenge. Show me the sapsucker, who rejoices in the ownership of a consolation prize. And I'll show you a "sorry ass" loser.

If anybody cares to call me a victim of my national news media, I'll refrain from objecting. If I may be allowed, I should like to acknowledge that I'm pretty flexible, when it comes to concessions for the sake of civil discussion.

For example, I'm perfectly willing to allow that the "West" has invaded and occupied sacred Arab territory. What's more, the West had absolutely no business to invade Iraq, and has absolutely no business in continuing their occupation of that unhappy country.

And here's something else about the West. The West is now exploring the celestial regions beyond earth. Knowledge, once impossible to glean, now comes in floods via probes much like the early Pioneer 10 and Voyager. In medical laboratories, researchers are working assiduously to find treatments, if not cures, for diseases that have plagued mankind, since before fire was domesticated.

And just (?) what does Islam have to offer! Websites that teach sexually frustrated young men how to fashion explosive vests with the end of murdering innocent people in suicidal paroxysm. Time and time again, the Israelis recover the heads of successful suicide bombers. And time and time again, the latter died sporting a silly smirk.

. . . ah, you dear Reader, come a little closer to your monitor screen. I have a secret to share with you and the monitor screen. Ever so discreetly look around, make sure nobody is looking over your shoulder.

. . . now that the three of us are alone, please allow me to regale you with anecdotes about my mis-spent youth. I shall start by mentioning that, in major cities, there are "after-hours clubs". Thanks to arrangements with the beat-walking gendarmerie, those clubs are allowed to serve, discreetly mind you, drinks and entertainment after legally mandated closing.

oh, that brings back memories of the nights I spent, waiting my turn to elicit laughter from inebriate losers. Sometimes I "killed". More often, sad to say, I "bombed". But I didn't care. I was young, and I was positive I was on the way to the top. All I needed was getting noticed by some scout for Johnny Carson.

Lemme tell'ya about Lenny Bruce. He was my idol. .. . oh, alright (!) already, I'll own up to it. Yes, I did snatch "shtick" from Lenny As said in music, mediocre composers pay homage, great composers steal. Gets me sometimes how things change. Shtick that got Lenny hauled up before the judge is today rube roast on The COMEDY CENTRAL cable channel.

No, I never met the man. Nonetheless, I knew enough to prognosticate his eventual self-destruction. Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad. Maybe, he was mad towards the end. Here I want to quote a poetess:

"I burn my candle at both ends.
It will not last the night.
But o my foes, ah my friends,
It gives such a lovely light."

At this point, I should to remind the reader about those remnant heads with silly smirk. For a while, I was puzzled about what could've been taking place in the psyche of those suicidal bombers. Like a bolt out of the blue, the insight came to me.

In the years of my mis-spent youth, I was incessantly on the lookout for new material, from which I could distill jokes, gags, yucks, quips, wisecracks, et cetera. Maybe, I never did quite turn off that search.

. . . darn, darn, the jokes I could come up with now. Just my luck. Now that I have great material at hand, Carson's gone to his eternal reward . . . lissen'up, wize'ache'err, I'm talking fabulous comedy material . . . I mean up there in class with Johnaton Swift's A MODEST PROPOSAL.

I know the cause for that silly smirk. As those "martyrs" press, ever so slowly, down on the detonator button, they're getting their jollies, getting their rocks off, shooting their wad, dropping their load, burping baby gravy, spraying tonsil polish et cetera.


In the parlance of Masters & Johnson, they're having an orgasm. . . . oh, br'dah, what a way to get relief . . . well, with any luck, they got to finish with their "happy ending" before they had ended their time on earth, and gone on the way to their Maker.

. . . now, dear Reader, do you (?) comprehend what I mean by "up in class"! . . .

Maybe, Islam does deserve to be poisoned . . . or the current version thereof at any rate.

As for the graphic, I took it upon myself to design something for those patriotic Americans, who happen to adhere to the Qu'ran.

ya'know, I think it's a nice design . . . eye-catching at any rate.

toodles
....../
.he who is known as sefton


sorry lessons that had to be learned the hard way -

Chances of success for any attack plan that depends on the enemy's best behaviour lie between slim and none.

It may be prudent for recipients of social services to ask what's expected in return. Those providing same may be doing so for reasons other than, say, out of gratitude for being loved by a compassionate God. Might (?) it be likely they have an agenda!

In general, there's one huge problem with gun runners. Paid enough, they'll gladly provide all the weaponery, needed to put up a fight. More often than not, however, they fail to supply enough to win.

By the way, clicking on the envelope icon brings up a page that facilitates e.mail.

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