he who is known as sefton

PENNSYLTUCKY TEE SHIRTS, now available

2008-10-04T06:34:00.000-07:00

let your customers to love you, adopt universe and "dez"

2008-04-14T04:23:00.000-07:00

First-time visitors to this blog should be alerted to this simple fact about this very first post. It's a "traveling" post, which is placed just above the most recently published post. In this case, it's titled "congressional coup watch". As of right now, specifically 2007/07/09,

I've only begun writing it. I'm starting it off with a graphic of a reader's letter to the newspaper of record for the twin tiers of New York and northeast Pennsylvania. For no particular reason, I've added a revision of that letter's first paragraph. It's a good bet the reader will enjoy a chuckle.

. . . Great News! I did more than just add more text . . . I'm proposing a way out of a constitutional imbroglio in a reader's letter to that same periodical. It shouldn't take the visitor long to find the "mésalliance with corrosion" blog . . .

. . . And more great news! I've appended more text, some of which has cosmically comic aspect.

Eventually, I'll divulge what I'm reading in the tea leaves, concerning the repercussions in store for this country's right wing. Take my word for it. They ain't gonna be pleasant.

And some more good news, I hope, I've appended more text to my very first blog, titled "the corleone manifesto" . . .

Let's start
with a
romantic take
on why
Universe
wears those
rosy sunglasses. Turns out, I was told that she wants to see the
world through the lenses of love ...

Anyway, it all started with the movie FOXES, in which Jodie Foster appeared as a member of a pack of teeny-boppers. Back then, Jodie had yet to start the transition from kitten to cat. In one scene, Jodie and her packmates are washing plastic dolls as, I guess, part of a high school class in infant care. The camera and the dialogue make it very clear that these young ladies feel they have other and much better things to do.

Here's what I was hearing in the back of my mind, something like so: "When they have babies of their own, care (?) to guess what they'll fall back on."

I spend very little time, if any, with social workers. But according to some reports, some of them struggle mightily to hold back tears, as they speak about the sorry state of child care skills that is found in so many households ... "9 1 1 NANNY", anyone?

Well, I decided it would be a good idea to somehow popularize the notion that parenting skills can be learned. Myself, I would recommend that the learning should start a couple years before puberty. The idea was that Universe and "Dez" would appear in two-minute segments of animation that would be broadcast, as part of local television programming for children.

Take my word for it. More than once, I tried battering through brick walls to realize my idea. And all I got for my efforts was a bloody scalp.

And then, it happened!

I got smart.

Those two bi-chromatic kids would make for great advertising. It wouldn't be all that difficult to use them to sell cookies, and other stuff that would be appropriate to children's interests and activities. As for other stuff, I was thinking ice cream, bowling, college savings plans, and even home entertainment systems ... aaaay, you, whyz.ache.err, why (?) not female radio personalities!

Some people, wise to the advertising game, might wonder whether it would be possible for cartoon characters to sell something as abstract as college savings plans. Here's the thing about parents of small children. Mommy and Daddy yield all too easily to the temptation to talk about their little darlings.

Just as an aside, do beginning parents ever (?) realize just how annoying is their putting their giggly toddlers on the phone! Well, lemme clue ya, the callers at the other end think the darndest things.

Back to Mommy and Daddy, what's more, the temptation to mention what they're doing for their little darlings is virtually irresistible

ya'known, who'da'tunk (?) dat yellow Peanuts bird could sell home owner's insurance.

By the bye, I haven't given up on the idea that Universe and "Dez" will eventually be used to introduce children to the idea that parenting skills can be learned. In the meanwhile, they're available for advertising various types of products. Interested vendors are encouraged to contact the "legal guardian", me A Alexander Stella. I can be reached at this e-mail address:

stella4ron@yahoo.com

or by landline at

....... (570)853-3050.

Some readers may recognize the graphic as one that appears on refrigerator magnets. To get the word about my blog, I resorted to passing those magnets out to all sorts of people. For those of you interested in statistics, here's what I'm conjecturing happened to, say, 400 (four hundred) such magnets. By the bye, I passed out more than that ... but let's keep the math simple.

I'm guessing that half of the 400 was tossed aside. In monetary terms, $600 (six hundred dollars) went down the drain. Now let's focus on the remaining 200 (two hundred) -- at this point, somebody wise to the mechanics of advertising may well be yelling,

"Hold on there. Just how do you know that ONLY (?) two hundred (200) of your cockamamie refrigerator magnets got tossed aside."

ya'know, that's a good question. Well, let's put it this way. At first, please permit my regaling the dear Reader with a literary allusion, say, "practicality, my dear Watson, practicality". And I'm backing that up with a wager of my five doughnuts to somebody's three that 200 were not tossed aside for a very good reason.

Just so happens, women use such magnets to stick notes on their refrigerator door to remind her beloved that Thursday is garbage day ... so, it would be only nice to take same out to the curb, before leaving for work. Now, let's continue.

Likely enough, half (100) of those remaining 200 ended up in households that neither have immediate Internet access in the home nor care all that much about the Internet. Remember, my blog "he who is known as sefton" has to be reached through the Internet. In monetary terms, $300 went down the drain.

Now, let's focus on the 100 that ended up on refrigerators in households, whose members do have immediate access to the Internet, or do indeed spend considerable time in exploring the Internet. One would think that my money, some $300, finally paid off.

Think again, my little chick-a-dees, members in half of those households, some 50, pass up visiting my blog. Okay, that's $150 dollars down the drain.

gee, mis'tah, ya'should'ah spent only $150 (one hundred and fifty bucks) on only 50 of dose fridge doo-hickeys, an' given dem out to only dose last 50 households.

gee ... now you tell me.

Well, the upshot of it is simply this. That was what I had to do to get people visiting my blog. The way I'm hoping things work out is fairly simple. People, who visit my blog, will get the word out to others. By the bye, by clicking on that "envelope" icon, one brings up a page that encourages e-mailing the hyperlink to the article along with a personal message. It works! I know. I tried it.

Somewhere in this blog, there's a counter that indicates just how successful I am in attracting numerous visitors to my blog. Here, I should interject that I'm no longer passing out, higgly piggly, those fridge magnets to just about anybody. That phase is over and done with. Nowadays, only prospective product-promotion clients are getting them gratis.

By the bye, this is the "traveling" post for Universe and her little brother. People, who'd like their comments to remain relevant to this post, are advised to search for the "Universe and 'Dez'" post in the stationary slot.

As for why I keep publishing articles on this blog. Well, I figure people would appreciate having more reason to visit this blog than only viewing a pretty graphic.

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

gleanings from myspace website .. 01

2008-04-13T16:09:00.000-07:00

.. my OPEN LETTER to CHRISTIANE AMANPOUR ..First off, the expected accolades, your broadcast work as a journalist has been top notch. Your Peabody Award, which is bestowed annually by the Grady College of the University of Georgia, was well earned. Chances are, Christiane, you'll be awarded one or two more for your "God's Warriors" series. For my part, I do hope you'll remember during an interview to impart the following parable . . . eYep, that's the word "parable". Whatever our beliefs, we benighted humans are incapable of getting to the heart of God . . . in whatever manner, "getting" is meant. Here's a little tidbit for rather ethereal speculation. A chorus master has recently moved into town, and wants to establish a chorus. And so, singers are recruited. The chorus master is dismayed. Each and every singer has the exact voice and timbre as each and every other singer. For certain pieces, it makes for a nice effect. But the chorus master wants a LIVELY chorus. Such a chorus requires a variety of voices such as alto, bass, tenor, soprano et cetera. Now let us recall that we benighted human beings are incapable of getting to the heart of God . . . in whatever sense, "getting" is meant. For all we know, God considers the various religions as voices in a grand celestial chorus. So, if the Deity wants a LIVELY chorus, who (?) among us cares to tell the Almighty no!toodles

*********

. . . IT'S TRUE . . . I took out a classified ad in PIPE DREAM, which is a newspaper, published during the academic year, and allegedly so by Binghamton University students . . . recently, my doubts about that periodical's "real" publishers have impelled me to employ the word "allegedly" . . . oh, well, I'm guessing the foregoing text in FUSCHIA is about all I may prudently say . . . I have no wish to emulate Don Imus . . .Okay, the graphic just underneath this maroon text is a memento of my attending a presentation delivered by former Army Captain James Yee, who served at "gitmo" as a Muslim chaplain . . . well, I was the last member of the audience to speak during the "open mic" period. And I do believe now civilian Yee was thrown for a loop . . . that was achieved with a remark of mine, regarding "bedbugs" . . . elucidation is found in the blog entry, titled "the way human nature works" . . .

. . . and here's a sequel of sorts . . .
Well, there's a reason for why I'm directing visitors to pull up my "corleone manifesto" blog entry rather the seemingly more approriate "Pelosi" blog. So far, I've inserted the manifesto as a comment in over 1,000 (one thousand) profile pages. After some thought, I decided it's more important set people on the path, if they're not already, to planetary awareness. And with regard to the text in the graphic immediately, I dearly wish I could advance this rather outrageous claim. It's this letter that swayed the good Senator Larry "not gay" Craig into re-considering his decision to resign his office. And as for the "juice", well, I admit to being put out by the insensitivity of the good editors at the regional newspaper of record. Still, I have to grant they did allow the INDISPENSABLE message to be available to their readers.

* * * * * * *

WOOD'JAH (?) BUH-LEAVE!< The above sweat shirt was put on eBay with a starting bid of ninety-nine cents ($0.99). And nobody, I mean absolutely nobody bit .. ah, BID on it. Maybe, the appearance of my proposed design for an emblem to honor "historical patriotism" was the turn-off ... oh, well such is life.

No and no again, I did NOT consume any sort of hallucinogen. Nor did I ever, when I was attending some university, "drop acid". What you, dear visitor, are about to read was ... please let me assure you ... written in a state of icy sobriety. Nowadays, predicting the presidential succession of current House Speaker Nancy Pelosi hardly seems daring. Now I'm predicting the three major actions, undertaken by President Pelosi. First being, and it's a "lead pipe cinch", she'll begin the withdrawal of American military from Iraq. Second, she'll effect construction of a truly formidable fence between this country and Mexico. She'll do so for two major reasons. Reason one, it'll show up the Republican Party as feckless and ineffectual. Reason two, it'll attract the support of "mom and pop" conservatives, thus assuring her election in 2008. And here's the third major action, she'll nominate former Vice President Al Gore as her vice president.

. wood'jah (?) buh-leave! .

Manifesting their freedom from taint as "lap dog" for the Bush Administration, the proprietors of an emphatically partisan profile page have not only added my profile page, but have even added a comment of mine. Just so happens, this particular profile page rejoices under "The Nancy Pelosi Watch Dog Group!" So far as I'm concerned, the existence of this profile page serves as corroboration for my prediction, quod vide, my blog entry "Speaker Pelosi, President Nancy". In this regard, I have in mind a certain adage. That being, forthcoming events cast their shadows. As for how you, dear visitor, may visit this page, there are two ways to do so. Somewhere in Comments, you'll find that profile page. Those, who are somewhat more curious, should consider searching in pages 97 through 99 in my friends collection. . . . ya'know, it just might be these good people are exceptions to the rule . . . from what I can tell, partisan Republican mentality is enthralled by the following phantasm . . . specifically, whatever is good for the Republican party is good for the country . . . from what what I can tell, this mentality confounds party with country . . . in a way, the country is an extension of the party . . . I strongly suspect entertaining the proposition "what's good for the country is good for the Republican Party" might be considered "crime think" . . . toodles ..okay, here's what I'm reading in the tea leaves . . . . . . I want to explain how it's not only possible . . . yeah even likely . . . that House Speaker Nancy Pelosi is on destiny's road to becoming first woman president of the United States. And it all has to do with a guy, who makes Cap'n Ahab look faltering wuss. And I mean Special Counsel Patrick J Fitzgerald, who's now roasting the goose of some poor sapsucker, who's stuck with a kid's nickname "Scooter". Where Special Counsel Ken Starr failed, Fitzgerald intends to succeed. One may ask just how (?) determined is this Fitzgerald. . . . well, lemme put it this way: If Fitzgerald wants to hang somebody's scalp from his belt, that somebody had better pull up www.bestdoctors.com, and then look for those physicians, who can treat abrupt scalp removal. No doubt in my mind, that mick is gunning for "shrub" and "little dickie sunshine" simultaneously. The way succession works, if the president becomes incapacitated, the vice president succeeds. Now let's suppose both are simultaneously incapacitated. In that case, the Speaker of the House succeeds to the office of President of the United States . . . . . . oh, by the bye, I did start the topic elsewhere, specifically, Before I conclude I need to make a few things clear. First, nobody should ever consider me a latter-day Nostradamus. Second, I'm told I should leave myself an out, when it comes to making "startling" predictions. In which case, here's my "out", which is lifted from the teevee scifi series BABYLON 5. Predictions that come true are prophecy; those that don't are metaphor . . . ahnghgh. Nonetheless, I'm still willing to wager five doughnuts to somebody's three. By the time New Year's Eve rolls along, a woman, whose ensemble always includes a pearl necklace, will occupy the Oval Office. . . . incidentally, I like lemon filled, boston cream and blueberry cake. toodles . . . ./ he who is known as sefton just for the heck of it, I'm including a hyperlink to one very provocative article:

congressional coup watch 2007-07-09T14:03:00.001-07:00 For no particular reason, I decided to revise the leading paragraph. So, here goes. Some stand-up comic cracked a joke at the expense of then President William Jefferson Clingon. All "Slick Willie" needed to slip through a keyhole was a little "possum" grease on his enormous posterior. The topic is such that it must begin on a scholarly but brief note. According to the man, who orchestrated the communist revolution in Russia, a successful revolution requires three conditions. That man, Vladimir Lenin, ticked them like so. One, the ruling class must no longer be able to govern, or dictate, or rule. The other, the subservient classes must no longer be able to tolerate rule by the upper class. And here's the crucial condition, according to Lenin, there must exist a new class, who are ready and willing and able to take over. Okay, that finishes the brief note. In American, there have been FOUR revolutions. Of course, every American is aware of the first one, namely, the Revolutionary War. In winning that war, colonial America became a country of thirteen independent states, held together under the Articles of Confederation. The second revolution involves the replacement of those articles with the current Constitution, which begins with "We the people . . .". In the first revolution, the victorious third of the colonial ruling class expelled both the British military and American royalists. In the second, the ruling class established the means to implement, in a more thorough going manner, their governance of these United States. The third revolution took place through the mechanism of the Civil War. The emergent industrial class subordinated the once dominant agricultural interests. If I may, I'd like to take a moment here to explain some of what is meant by my emblem for "historical patriotism", which is shown below. Please note the turquoise tracing on that Confederate Battle Banner. It's deliberately meant to recall those graphic "no smoking" signs . .. ya'know, the lit cigarette in a bisected circle. As I offer elsewhere, had the Confederacy become a foreign independent nation, it is very likely according to some very authoritative historians, the world would've ended up, split between a victorious Nazi Germany and an Imperial Japan. Now, onto the fourth revolution. That occurred during the presidency of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. The organized labor movement comprised some 40% of American working people, as a result. In a way, the Second World War II enabled the then ruling class to beat back that revolution, and then shrink the size of organized labor. Now, here's where we get to the hot house, in which the future FIFTH revolution is now sprouting. . . WOOD'JAH (?) BUH-LEAVE! . . Depending on one's point of view, either the blame or credit for sprouting that revolution redounds to the "death taxers". For a while, the media reported on the efforts of activists, whose main goal is the repeal of inheritance taxes, or estate taxes. Thanks in large part to their support, the current American president as of this writing was able to win election and re-election. Upon his entering the White House, he kept his end of the implicit bargain, signing into law the repeal of the "death tax". Pretty much simultaneously, he lied the country into an unnecessary war, the prosecution of which he and his coterie bungled. As a result, the national debt skyrocketed, even worse than under Reagan. Well, the Good Lord must have a horrific sense of irony. From somewhere, the money to met even the interest on that debt . . . forget about paying off the principal . . . has to come. The bottom line, it is impossible to continue the repeal of the "death tax". The way the author of this text sees it, nilly willy, the country will have to undergo serious alteration, really, tantamount to a fifth revolution. As the author has written elsewhere, before New Year's Eve rolls around, current House Speaker Nancy Pelosi shall be the new occupant at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. In no way, should anyone regard Speaker Pelosi as a modern-day Lenin, or even a revolutionary patriot Samuel Adams. Again, willy nilly, she shall find herself in circumstances, where she must take the lead in effecting drastic changes, or she may have to tolerate the occurrence of same. toodles counter as minuend as of 2009/01/03 2007-07-09T14:02:00.001-07:00 Website Counter This is for you, my numerous devoted fans. By now, I've gone far beyond the fridge magnet. . . As if to start out on a new path, I've decided to re-start my count . .. count re-starts afternoon 2007/12/01 with 10403 just for my own info ... number of visitors ... 022 count re-starts afternoon 2007/12/22 with 10435 just for my own info .... number of visitors .... 012 count re-starts twilight 2008/01/13 with 10453 just for my own info .... number of visitors .... 377 count re-starts afternoon 2009/01/03 with 10833 saved for a comment 2007-02-25T13:47:00.000-08:00 see comment ===> mésalliance with corrosion 2007-01-21T13:30:00.000-08:00 According to the prediction, for which yours truly is going way out on an extend limb, the book's author will comply with the following tabloid injunction. . . . "If it bleeds, it leads!" . . . Even now, so I am now speculating, some hot-shot aspirant for a doctorate in political science is gathering the viscera for a Nietzschean lion. Time honored and well financed concepts will, in a future all too near, be mauled to shreds. The above text in technicolor is how I hoped to start this essay. And then, it happened, that dreaded writer's block. Okay, here was the plan. Right after that opening paragraph, my deathless prose would dive into a meditation on the Oklahoma City bombing. Nowadays, that bombing is blamed on a few lunatics, who had glutted their imagination with perfervid rightwing swill. Here's the dirty little secret that's intrinsic to that swill. That swill did not come from nowhere. It came as an abstration from bombast that was incessantly broadcast by perfervid Republican partisans. For the two generations prior to that bombing, those partisans assailed their country's government as rapacious and burdensome and inexcusably clumsy. During that time, the government was very much in the hands of the rival Democratic Party. All that bombast was meant to sway the voters to replace the then dominant Democratic Party with the then subordinate Republican Party. During his second campaign to unseat an incumbent president, candidate Ronald Reagan, in one way or other, availed himself of that particular trinity. To ameliorate financial predation by rapacious government, he promised tax cuts. To relieve burdens imposed by government that was also inexcusably clumsy, he promised to "get the government off your back". In swaying the majority of American voters over to his side, Reagan owed his success to the power of that trinity of adjectives, a power cultivated by nearly 50 years of incessant Republican bombast. Good for the Republican Party, one might suppose. Funny thing about people, they tend to simplify concepts. Often, they combine two concepts into one. It took a while, but eventually two components in that trinity were combined into one concept. In truth, it becomes easy to regard a government that is burdensome and rapacious as tyrannical. Somehow, the supposed inexcusable clumsiness of government gets exaggerated little by little. And fine day, government is more than just clumsy, it is ineffectual. . . . "you have to answer for Santio" . . . . Bypassing the expected rhetorical question, let's slash to the cheese. In the eyes of a tiny minority, government has become irredeemably tyrannical and ineffectual. It took that second pair of adjectives to enable the mindset to contemplate the Oklahoma City bombing . . . the thought precedes the deed. If government is tyrannical, then it's perfectly morally permissible to destroy it with whatever means that are expedient. If a government is impervious to destruction by peaceable democratic measures, then surely violence by a moral minority is permissible. If a government is ineffectual, getting away with that violence is eminently possible. My five doughnuts to somebody's three. I never read "THE TURNER DIARIES", which certainly encouraged the gorpes, who undertook the above mentioned bombing. And yet, I believe that book has its protagonist going about ever so merrily bombing government buildings. And that person perpetrates bombing after bombing, without getting caught by the authorities, until romance rears its lovely head. The bomber falls in love with a hottie, who happens to be working secretly for the government. Shortly thereafter, betrayal with consequent capture ensues. Funny, how a jigger of romance enables some dupe to chug a pitcher of blather. Here's a comment with a cosmically comic aspect. For more than five decades, the powers that be at the top of this capitalist society have financed, and heavily so, a campaign to disparage both government and governance. Funny thing came to pass. Those powers that be came to believe the very blather they were financing. The final consequence being, the Oval Office is now occupied by a jesus-up-the-heart nincompoop with cotton candy for brains. And the resulting damage is mind-boggling. And here's something that just might be considered comic. Somehow, the entire right wing is suffering from amnesia. Time and time again, some rightwing stalwart avouches eternal love and devotion for "small government", somehow implying there's something untoward about "big government". Here's the thing. Well, within living memory, victory over fascism came about through the instrumentality of "big government". It was "big government" that got all the ships and planes built and manned, got all the military recruited and trained to take on and defeat the Axis powers, successfully pursued victory in a struggle taking place in two oceans, and not least, recruited the scientists and built the facilities, necessary to assemble the atomic bombs that compelled imperial Japan to accept unconditional surrender. ya'know, one should hope that, for this country's sake, the right wing shall replace the mantra of "small government" with "small government, where appropriate . . . large government, when necessary". If anybody out there wants to bend their brain around some gut-wrenching speculation, I got just the thing . . . let's suppose that, instead of disparaging governance in general, congressional Republicans in Congress had boasted of curbing the excesses of a Congress, dominated by the opposition party . . . those Republicans might've considered avouching they had kept the opposition party from rapaciously increasing taxes, thereby allowing goernment to work in a way that benefits the country . . . by so doing, those congressional Republicans would have implicitly championed the proposition that government can be made to work . . . And in that way, they might've attentuated the atmospherics that led to the Oklahoma City bombing . . . oh, well, here's a flash . . . maybe, instead of "mésalliance with corrosion", the title of this predicted book will be something like, say, "THE GOD THAT SUCKED" . . . well, ye'know, whyz.ache.err, that title is bound to get a lot more media mention that the other, more scholarly one . . . from the bottom right-hand corner, two up and two over oh, yeah, I just flashed on something most visitors will consider arcane. Supposedly, the philosopher Immanuel Kant opened the way for faith by showing reason its constraints. In so doing, he transmuted the very essentiality of faith. Some of our cognoscenti may contend the consequences will likely prove rather lurid. Well, maybe they'll be proven right. Given my adiaphoristic temperament, I regard Kant's achievement with the deepest gratitude. So far as I'm concerned, he extricated faith from a requirement. Over the centuries, that requirement has proven disasterous. Over the centuries, the theologians in power have insisted that it is their right to impose the religion they espouse. In as much as that religion, which is necessarily based on faith, is manifestly true, those theologians are performing a service, by saving the ignorant from error. Thanks to Kant, that requirement of being true has been obviated. The man expunged from the essentiality of faith the concept of true and false. For forever after in this our pedestrian life, in which we must meet the requirements of our physiology, both the concept of "true religion" and that of "false religion" fall into the category of claptrap. For forever after, talking about "true religion" versus "false religion" makes about as much sense as talking about "illiterate rocks" versus "literate rocks". Certainly, we may, sensibly, talk about "beautiful religion" versus 'drab religion", or "energetic religion" versus "placid religion" . . . c'mon, whyz.ache.err, that concession has got to be made, otherwise all those collegiate departments of comparative religion will have to be shuttered, throwing, god.knows, how many professors out of a job . . . DESTINY DAY as a national holiday 2006-11-04T15:02:00.001-08:00 Justifiably or no, I've always been conflicted about the recent national holiday. Don't get me wrong. I fully support commemorating the work of Dr Martin Luther King jr. And I believe it's only appropriate to celebrate his cultural legacy. Incidentally, I also believe that our history books should devote some space to dealing with his blemishes, as well as his virtues. There'll be more on that particular point later. I believe a national holiday should unify the American people. In unity, so we should wish, people commemorate their common history, and express gratitude for their common cultural legacy. As I contemplate the recent national holiday, one tiny fact becomes all too glaring. Dr Martin Luther King jr Day coincides with Confederate Day. I consider that a delicious tidbit of historical irony. Still in all, that goes a long way towards validating why I feel conflicted. Like a bolt out of the blue, it came to me how the conflict can be resolved. We can, INSTEAD, celebrate Destiny Day as a national holiday. The way I see it, nobody may fault a man of good will for answering the call of destiny. Thanks to thoughtful hindsight, we can all concur that the good reverend doctor was, indeed, a man of good will. And he did answer the call of destiny, as best he knew within the constraints of his character. For my part, I believe the same could said about our first president, former general George Washington. Thanks to newly revised history books, students in high school can learn that the man had blemishes as well as virtues. He belonged to a social class that owned as slaves the forefathers of the good reverend doctor. What's more, Washington himself owned slaves. Nonetheless, his birthday was, for years, celebrated as a national holiday. Considering the spirit of the times, I would say "justifiably so". As I envisage Destiny Day as a national holiday, the American people would commemorate the achievements of people, who struggled to enrich both our common history and our common cultural legacy. And the people I have in mind did so without the stature, conferred by high political office. The good reverend doctor was never elected to any political office. As I envisage Destiny Day as a national holiday, the American people would remind themselves of a truly ennobling verity. Monumental tasks can be successfully undertaken by people in the most ordinary walks of life. On his income tax returns, for instance, Dr Martin Luther King jr signed off simply as a clergyman. I cannot imagine he ever did so as "heroic standard bearer for a national holiday". As best as each of us knows how, let us begin instituting Destiny Day as a national holiday. sincerely yours And here are legislators, who should be informed: PA State Senator Lisa Baker lbaker@pasen.gov http://senatorbaker.com/ ph# (717) 787-7428 Senate Box 203020 Harrisburg PA 203020 Representative Chris Carney http://carney.house.gov/ ph# (866)846-8124 (toll free) . . .. (540)585-9988 233 Northern Blvd - ste 4 Clarks Summit PA 18411 Senator Bob Casey http://casey.senate.gov/contact.cfm ph# (717)231-7540 555 Walnut st - first flr Harrisburg PA 17101 PA State Senator Roger Madigan rmadigan@pasen.gov http://www.senatormadigan.com/ ph# (717)787-3280 Senate Box 203023 Harrisburg PA 17120-3023 PA State Representative Sandra J Major smajor@pahousegop.com ph# (570)278-3374 RR 7 - Box 7186 Montrose PA 18801 PA State Representative Tina Pickett tpickett@pahousegop.com ph# (570)265-3124 321 Main st Towanda PA 18848 Governor Ed Rendell http://www.governor.state.pa.us/ ph# (570)614-2090 .......(717)787-2500 ..... (570)614-2094 (fax) Oppenheim bldg - 3rd flr 409 Lackawanna ave Scranton PA 18503 Senator Arlen Specter http://specter.senate.gov/ ph# (570)346-2006 310 Spruce st - 201 Scranton PA 18503 PA State Representative James Wansacz jwansacz@pahouse.net http://www.pahouse.com/wansacz ph# (570)451-3110 108 South Main st Old Forge PA 18518 Speaker Pelosi, President Nancy 2006-11-04T15:01:00.000-08:00 okay, here's what I'm reading in the tea leaves . . . . . . I want to explain how it's not only possible . . . yeah even likely . . . that House Speaker Nancy Pelosi is on destiny's road to becoming first woman president of the United States. And it all has to do with a guy, who makes Cap'n Ahab look faltering wuss. And I mean Special Counsel Patrick J Fitzgerald, who's now roasting the goose of some poor sapsucker, who's stuck with a kid's nickname "Scooter". Where Special Counsel Ken Starr failed, Fitzgerald intends to succeed. One may ask just how (?) determined is this Fitzgerald. . . . well, lemme put it this way: If Fitzgerald wants to hang somebody's scalp from his belt, that somebody had better pull up www.bestdoctors.com, and then look for those physicians, who can treat abrupt scalp removal. No doubt in my mind, that mick is gunning for "shrub" and "little dickie sunshine" simultaneously. The way succession works, if the president becomes incapacitated, the vice president succeeds. Now let's suppose both are simultaneously incapacitated. In that case, the Speaker of the House succeeds to the office of President of the United States . . . . . . oh, by the bye, I did start the topic elsewhere, specifically, Before I conclude I need to make a few things clear. First, nobody should ever consider me a latter-day Nostradamus. Second, I'm told I should leave myself an out, when it comes to making "startling" predictions. In which case, here's my "out", which is lifted from the teevee scifi series BABYLON 5. Predictions that come true are prophecy; those that don't are metaphor . . . ahnghgh. Nonetheless, I'm still willing to wager five doughnuts to somebody's three. By the time New Year's Eve rolls along, a woman, whose ensemble always includes a pearl necklace, will occupy the Oval Office. . . . incidentally, I like lemon filled, boston cream and blueberry cake. toodles . . . ./ he who is known as sefton "Break out the champagne" reverberated in the local and state and national headquarters for the Democratic Party, as the final tallies for the recent mid-term elections came, via the cable news channels, rolling in. The people, about to quaff the bubbly, had good reason to celebrate. Their party had taken control of the House of Representatives and the Senate. As Republican survivors tried to "rally the troops", trying to dispel the gloom of defeat, knots of Democratic Party activists were presented with even more good news. Some of the tonier watering holes echoed and re-echoed with the cry, "Sommelier, decant the Lafite Rothschild". Little did those survivors know they were digging their holes quite a bit deeper. Survivor after survivor stepped up to the media mic, and called upon their colleague Republicans to return to Reagan's principles . . . got to admit, yours truly chuckled . . . "what fools these mortals be". At this point, I think I owe to the reader to declare the state of my soul like so. I am an adiaphoristic lapsed Roman Catholic. And that means I am theologically indifferent. Not only am I adiaphoristic in matters of spirit, I am also indifferent in matters of politics. In that latter regard, my motto resembles that of Paladin with his "have gun, will travel". Mine's "have laptop, will travel". For a reasonable fee, I would've cheerfully furnished those survivors with speeches that would've helped terminate their digging. Just off the top of my head, I think I would've started with an opening like so: "Yes, we lost. And our president and commander-in-chief hit the nail on the head. We took a thumping. We lost these mid-terms for a simple reason. We lost our way in the trappings of public office. We grew deaf and blind to the plight of so many of ordinary Americans. "Out there, there are millions of Americans, who are hurting. And they have come to believe that our party, our Republican Party doesn't give a damn. No wonder, those Americans became disenchanted. And it started off in the smallest way with the skyrocketing of gas prices. "And just what (?) was our official response. Obediently, we went about accelerating tax cuts that were supposed to help the average consumer deal with those skyrocketing gas prices. By the way, those tax cuts, which we got enacted, did very little to help ordinary Americans. "Oh, let's not forget Katrina. Our mass media brought into our living rooms clips of ordinary Americans begging for help. And just where (?) was our president and commander-in-chief at the time . . . at a fund raising event and entertaining the folks with some guitar picking. No wonder, so many Americans became disenchanted. "Oh, yes, let us not forget Iraq. Docilely, we went along. Those who dared question the wisdom were attacked as being unpatriotic. No wonder, so many Americans became disenchanted. "Here's what hurts. So many of those disenchanted Americans believed in that "Contract with America". So many of them didn't just vote, they worked to help our party, our Republican Party, take control of Congress for the sake of that contract. "And in the years following, we made a mockery of "Contract with America". No wonder, so many Americans became disenchanted." * * * oh, just to let visitors know, I can compose other speeches to help . . . io fatiga per qui me pagga * * * =====> As the immediately following graphic is presented right now, visitors may find it difficult to read the text. If so, they need only click directly on the graphic to enlarge it for better legibility . . . oh, and the same goes for the other textual graphics <======= Here's what made me giggle. From what I can discern, the publisher in question is wasting his time and his money. Oh, just for the heck of it, I'm going to speculate a little bit about Taxachusetts Senator John Kerry's "botched joke". For about two days after that incident, the Republican ATTACK (!) MACHINE went all out castigating the offending senator. Allegedly, he suggested that military personnel, serving in Iraq, are endowed with less than stellar eye cues. Well, here's the thing, for two days closely preceding those crucial mid-term elections, the Republican ATTACK (!) MACHINE made sure that the 24-hour cable news channels were continually reminding the voting public about Iraq. Even as that reminding was going on, Republican strategists wanted desperately to avoid bringing Iraq to the attention of the voting public. The way things worked, the unconditionally loyal Republican constituents bought into the allegations about the good senator's rather farfetched suggestion. On the other hand, the conditionally loyal Republican constituents were inclined to give Taxachusetts Senator John Kerry some benefit of the doubt. And as for the other types of voters, they were inclined to give him the total benefit of the doubt, and get incited by the continual reminding about Iraq to vote their disapproval of President Bush and his team. That incitement also motivated quite a few of the CONDITIONALLY loyal Republican voters. * * * Did (?) the good senator deliberately feed, so to speak, the Republican ATTACK (!) MACHINE a "poisoned apple"! . . . ah, yes, my little chick-a-dees, this post shall end up as a pastiche of comments and speculation and brief essays . . . eventually, I will express my regrets for my earlier enthusiasm for Patrick Fitzgerald . . . darn (!) that human nature . . . no doubt about it, I allowed hope to checkmate circumspection . . . and I will own up to more checkmated hope, via Representative Jack Murtha and Senator Russ Feingold . . . ya'know, I wouldn't mind seeing a member of the chosen people take up residence in the White House . . . * * * * * * * * * * * * * hatever presidential ambitions New York Senator Clinton may be harboring, fate has begun thwarting same . . . oh, yeah, the same can be said for the junior Illinois senator. ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ah, yes, my little chick-a-dees, eventually I'll justify the title for this post. For now, however, I'm in a mood to, well, pan the Republican Party for either vociferously exploiting or silently tolerating the "Confederate Battle Banner" wedge issue. One may easily conjecture the Republican leadership in the states of the former Confederacy thought themselves pretty sharp in championing the display of that banner. Temporarily, no doubt, Republican candidates benefitted. Habitually loyal Republican constituents still voted for them, whereas quite a number of nominally Democratic voters also voted for them. In the end, it was a horrendous mistake. By adopting as their cause célèbre the display of the Confederate Battle Banner, symbolically, they were renouncing their own heritage. After all, President Lincoln, in whose honor Republicans celebrate with a dinner every year, labored mightily to keep that flag from becoming the emblem of an established nation. In a sense, the Republicans adopted as their own the cause of Jefferson Davis, who had labored mightily in opposition. As for Republicans, who reside in states outside the defeated Confederacy, well, they were, to say the least, complicit. From what I gathered from the major news media, at the height of the controversy, absolutely none of those later Republicans objected. Symbolically, a large half of the Republican was repudiating their own heritage, whereas the other went along in silent complicity. At this point, the reader is asked to review the text that includes "lafite Rothshild", and then contemplate this remark. After a political party repudiates their own noble heritage, how (?) can anyone with decent sensibility credit that party with devotion to principle! As a certain assassinated president once said, "A house divided against itself cannot stand." Just for the heck of of it, I'm inserting this final jab at Islam here. And it goes like so: TALK ABOUT IRONY! TALK ABOUT IRONY! . . . watch this space . . . lots more to come torture works 2006-09-22T13:52:00.000-07:00 . . . okay, the squeamish are advised to skip the following text by clicking on this hyperlink ====> the corleone manifesto Human nature being such, just how worthwhile the application of torture should prove depends, in directly proportional measure, on the number of reasonably mature subjects to be tortured. In the instance that involves only one, or even two such subjects, the likelihood that torture will yield significant information is extremely small. When the number of subjects approaches more than, say, fifteen (15), the likelihood of success approaches metaphysical certainty. One constraint does apply. The large majority of such subjects must be engaged in clandestine activity they wish to remain so. According to several authoritative scholars, the Nazis perfected the procedures to extract required information. After so much application of coercion during interrogation, with virtually no exceptions, subjects would break, and spout gibberish . . . id est, purposeful gibberish. The subjects hoped the gibberish would sound plausible enough to induce, at least, some surcease in the application of torture. In as much as what the subjects believed was pure gibberish, they were confident that they were not betraying any clandestine material. With very few exceptions, each specimen of gibberish would include a jot of truth. Items found to be in several specimens were duly noted. More often than not, those common items were material the subjects wished to keep clandestine. In further interrogation, reliance upon those common items would invariably prove justified in extracting more common items. Eventually, after a month, two tops, of coercive interrogation, the whole story would be disclosed. aaay, you, whyz.ache.err, you may not say that the squeamish were not forewarnted . . . As for why I began this post the way I did, I have my reasons. And so, visitors, whose temperament can bear up to clear perception of the world as it truly exists, are invited to precede. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** The way human nature works, the Arab masses will fault the Jews for failure to heed God's command. As far fetched as that future canard will go, it'll worsen to the point of lunacy. The Jews were sent by God and commanded by God to help the Arabs claim the moon for Islam, thus salvaging Arab acclaim. The stuff about the moon is elucidated farther down in the text. For now, let's enjoy a bit of delicious irony. In response, the Jews will express abject regrets for such shameful failure . . . imagine, slighting (!) the Deity. Their only excuse being, the Jews were too busy thwarting annihilation by the very people they were supposed to be helping claim the moon for Islam. No doubt about it, the foregoing has got to, at first reading, struck the average mature adult as crackpot inanity. Now that I think about it, a reasonable person would stop right there, shuddering at the thought of continuing. But then, who in the world ever (?) accused yours truly of being "reasonable"! Anyway, here's what could've happned, had the Jews been allowed to help the Arabs claim the moon for Islam. Okay, here's a scenarion that's absolutely fictitious and has absolutely NOTHING to do with historical fact: A space vehicle, embalzoned with the Islamic cresent plus that Judaic star, lands on the surface of the moon. Out of that vehicle, steps aome earthlin space explorer, named, just for the heck of it, Mohammed. After walking a few steps, this particular Mohammed becomes the very first human being to perambulate on the moon. Then, he recites a couple fitting verses from the Qu'ran. That done, he lays a rug on the moon's surface, and with that "blue marble" in the background, kneels in prayer toward Mecca. . . . ah, yes, my little chick-a-dees, what an irresistibly POWERFUL (!) message that Islamic lunar landing, had it only come about, would've sent the entire world . . . . ya'know, something like, maybe, . . . ISLAM, A WORLD-WIDE FAITH, GATEWAY TO THE STARS . . . . . . ya'know, whyz.ache.err, in comparison, the moon's true status as a monument to American infidel technology is rather, well, workaday . . . fictitious scenario divulged, I venture so far as to posit that, in the world of Islam, Israel hardly matters at all. So far as Muslim sensibilities go, it is permissible to arrange some sort of modus viviendi with the Jewish state. From little I know about the Qu'ran, I venture to say there is no religious duty per se to destroy Israel. Elsewhere, I propound that Arab sensibilities were gravely wounded by this country's NATIONAL AERONAUTICS and SPACE ADMINISTRATION. Through that agency, these United States of America defiled the moon. The instant the words . . . "the eagle has landed" . . . were heard on earth, that celestial body became a monument to American infidel technology. "So (?) what!" . . . that pretty much captures in a nutshell the typical reaction of the typical American . . . "wasn't (?) that stepping onto the moon's surface supposed to be some sort'ah "giant leap for mankind". . . . at this point, let's take a step back . . . Well, there's this really humongous attribute about Islam as a system of precepts, ideas, notions, concepts, ways of thought, cognitive configuration. A luminary in the Age of Reason, Rousseau profusely praised Islam for that attribute, in an oblique manner. And that attribute is CONSISTENCY. This is what is meant. Suppose one considers any supposition that is accepted, in Islam, as a matter of faith. And then, one considers some other supposition that is likewise accepted, in Islam, as a matter of faith. Whatever pair of whatever suppositions one considers, contradiction is absent. The way the Muslim Faith works, supposition A is compatible with supposition B, which in turn is compatible with supposition C, which in turn is compatible with supposition D, et cetera. Islam is a a mighty fortress of consistency, so Muslim scholarship avouches . . gotta admit . . . until recently, it was indeed a mighty fortress of consistency. Here's what happened. The walls of that mighty fortress were brought down by an insidious weakness in that consistency. The validity of every supposition in the Muslim creed and spiritual orientation depends on the validity of every other supposition thereof. If just one single supposition is ruined . . . all I gotta say is keep a safe distance from the ensuing demolition . . . * * * * in a twinkling, Islam underwent a metamorphosis . . . in a twinkling, Islam went from dynamic to antiquated . . . as for that vaunted consistency, well, in that same twinkling, it acquired all the charm and significance of clockwork novelty such as that of a Swiss cuckooclock * * * * . . gotta admit . . . it took me years to understand why Avram insisted on rewinding the tape to view his favourite scene in his favourite movie THE THIRD MAN. In that scene, Harry Lime as portrayed by Orson Welles compares the grounds of emergence between the rinasscitio and the cuckoo clock . . Thanks to the consistency, wrought by protracted Muslim scholarship, Islam reeks with the gadgetry, reminiscent of a Swiss cuckoo clock . . . Islam, religious observances are scheduled by the phases of the moon. As far as the power of symbols, in their respective persuasions, are concerned, the cross of Christianity and the star of David in Judaism are weak, when compared with the moon in Islam. One must remember the first two symbols are merely symbols, whereas the moon is both symbol and actual astral phenomenon. . . . Muslim scholar I ain't . . . nonetheless, I think I know enough to conjecture that the moon is, in a sense, a sign post to a heaven or Paradise, which exists, in Islam, somehow as a physical actuality. By contrast, over the centuries, Christianity's heaven has become, well, metaphysical, ethereal, non-corporeal, intangible. Given what little I know Judaism, I fall back on an anecdote about Jewish opinion. Put ten Jews in a room, and they'll emerge with eleven different opinions. In short, by defiling the sign post to Paradise with that lunar landing, this country's NATIONAL AERONAUTICS and SPACE ADMINISTRATION defiled Paradise. . . . oh, if I wanted to, I could fill this space with all manner of simile and metaphor to elucidate the ignominy, under which Islam must now labor. But I won't. That's a task for other foolhards. It may well be that in ACADEMIC Muslim theology itself, the moon remains pure and perfectly clear of defilement. Nonetheless, the fact remains. Instead of a Mohammad, it was a Neil, who was the first human being to walk on the moon. And Neil made his way to the moon via American infidel technology. However one slices it, the moon is now a monument to American infidel technology. And today, Islamic religious practice and observance is scheduled by the phases of that monument to American infidel technology. . . . by way of metaphor, that throws a monkey wrench into the virtually mechanical consistency of Islam. . . . here's a metaphor for one to ponder, consider Willie Nelson. Nobody denies his talent as a singer, nor his genius as a song writer. Nonetheless, his singing the lead in the opera RIGOLETTO would be such a stretch as to constitute a four-alarm disaster. As bad a fit Mr Nelson would make singing lead in that opera, the moon's being a monument to American INFIDEL technology makes for a cataclysm in Islam. The way it works out, if just one single component in the matrix of Faith that is Islam is ruined, then the whole schmeer collapses in shambles. The following may be an even more appropriate metaphor. In a clip from the movie CADDY SHACK, a matronly lady "gets the vapors" as she watches Bill Murray bite into a CHOCOLATE candy bar . . . keep the word "chocolate" in mind. In the immediately preceding clip, people are gathered around a swimming pool, and they're having a vivacious party. To enhance the comic moment that's about to come to pass, when the camera focuses on the chocolate candy bar floating in the water, the background music is a snippet from the movie JAWS. And that's about what happened to Islam. In the post just underneath this, I speculate about what've been the targets, which were more to the point of the "for-real" grievance that motivated the gollums, who rammed those hi-jaked planes on nine/eleven . . . toodles EPIMETHEAN COMMENT - . . oh, yeah, as for the graphic, what it's meant to symbolize is found in the post just below . . . happy perusal . . . I do hope the average visitor to this blog realizes what I'm trying to say about Islam. I'm not saying "down with Islam" so much as "look at what that American INFIDEL lunar landing means for Islam". I think I crystalize what I'm trying to convey by relating a certain incident. In some god-forsaken region of Afghanistan, some regular guy wanted to do something worthwhile that would benefit the local women. So, he set up and ran a school to teach young girls to read and write, and eventually become productive members of their society. . . . he was found dead. Circumstances made it perfectly, he had been executed for helping women read and write. Now, let's focus on the people, who did the killing. . . . in their mind, they're devout Muslims, preserving an ages-old tradition of life. In reality, they're bloodthirsty antiquated poltroons. EPIMETHEAN COMMENT Were Avram still with us, so I'm cnjecturing, he would describe the situation as "divine irony". As for me, I think of the situation as "humongous April fool". In view of recent events, this article raises several interesting questions about just (?) what are those little dears being taught! Are (?) they being taught that Allah approves of suicide bombers, who with the purest of Muslim hearts kill non-combatant infidels, and even other Muslims, who adhere to a slightly different variant of their own Islamic faith. And there's more. Are (?) they being taught that Allah goes so far as to bribe those suicide bombers with an eternal coupon for free nookie in a cathouse in the sky! toodles food for thought, courtesy STINKER 2006-08-31T15:32:00.000-07:00 *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** This graphic pretty much summarizes my proposed CONCEPT for a nine/eleven memorial. Towards the end of this post, the graphic is repeated, with some of the symbolism explained. For now, first-time visitor, who I hope will become a devoted fan, you're invited to enjoy a leisurely stroll. Maybe, the print in the graphic is proving a tad hard to read. If so, one needs only to click on it, and the graphic will appear enlarged. *** *** *** oh, well, maybe, I truly am a stinker . . . at any rate, in the nostrils of the three academicians, mentioned in the graphic. I'm ready to bet my five doughnuts to somebody's three that a speed bump, if not worse, was placed in their career path by my posing a certain question, which is quoted in the post just underneath. * * * * * * * * * * And that question was, and I quote, "Is (?) there any Muslim in the world, even capable of introspection! * * * * * * * * * One might say it was very gratuitous of me to do so. After all, none of them did me an injury of any sort. And what did I do? I made sure neither perfesser will live down the fiasco I brought down on their head. Maybe, I should express a little regret for what I did. But I won't. To my way of thinking, they should've known they were playing with cognitive nitroglycerin . . . aaay, you, whyz.ache.err, don'cha dare "dead eye" me . . . c'mon, those perfessers are free and white and well over twenty-one. If their degrees were worth the sheep skin, on which they're printed, those academicians should've been aware that explosion was not only possible, but likely . . . ah, yes, my little chick-a-dees, INEVITABLE, even. . . . wood'ja (?) buh-leave! Could it be? That comment should sway them into wondering whether they have some pyschological quirk in common with the late Lenny Bruce. Speaking strictly for myself, I'm sure I can be persuaded into believing that Lenny knew he was going to die well before his time, were he to continue his cultural pioneering. As if to secure my bet, I took out an ad in the student-published newspaper for Binghamton University. It's to the left of the assertion: "Ain't (?) I a stinker!" Did I stop there? HECK NO! I dropped off copies of the graphic at the front desk for The PRESS & SUN-BULLETIN . . . goin' be interesting to see how the event gets treated in the pages of this regional paper of record. Yes and yes, I am quite pleased with my handiwork. What's more, I'm pleased, even when I should feel sad by the loss of a friend . . . refer comments appended to this post. . . . oh, well, we all gotta do what we gotta do. toodles oh, well, I suppose visitors are entitled to some explanation for the presence of that rather funky graphic, just above this paragraph. Here's what happened. I was expecting to read a "follow-up" account of the event, mentioned in the second from the top graphic. Well, it didn't appear. When I visited the office of PIPE DREAM, which by the way is the student-published twice-weekly for Binghamton University in upstate New York, I was told that article was scheduled for later on in the week. again with the doughnuts bet . . . while I was going through the paperwork for another ad in that paper, I commented on why my question had proven so disruptive. In the event that article does appear, I'm willing to wager my five doughnuts to somebody's three that comment will be quoted, in one way or other. In the meanwhile, visitors may as well enjoy a piece of mine that deals with the spate of homicidal bombings by suicidal gollums. For the freedom to publish that piece and Jake's piece, a debt of gratitude to Lenny Bruce. As for that latter piece, one needs only click on this hyperlink ======> jay and fitz and kay spell poison oh, well, again, maybe, I should be a tad put-out. While I was in the office for PIPE DREAM, filling out the paperwork for a "follow-up" on the "3 perfessers", I was told that a follow-up piece to the "anxiety" piece would appear by the date, mentioned in the graphic just above this paragraph. . . . oh, yeah, I'm making that particular graphic do duty for the one I was hoping would've appeared in that issue. Just so happens, the "religious holiday" squib comes closest to even approaching the text anticipated. Quite frankly, I'd consider wagering my five doughnuts to somebody's three that follow-up piece will appear neither this following Tuesday nor the Friday following. The subject the three perfessers were foolhard enough to raise is, indeed, proving to be "cognitive nitroglycerin". Darn them, for being so purblind with self-importance that they became reckless line-crossers. Wood'jah (?) buh-leave! I feel some sympathy for those academics. Depending on one's point of view, I labor under either the appalling or animating mirage that lines are meant to be crossed, even if only rhetorically. In the next few paragraphs, I hope to discharge my duty as the "stable boy, who unhorsed three knights with one sweep of a muck rake". For that, I'm beginning with a rhetorical riff on how gollums excuse their murdering peaceable civilians in their consecrated endeavour to exact "legitimate vengeance". . . . oh, how regretful, those people were in the way. One should hope they met the Almighty Judge and Ruler with pure souls . . . Okay, now let's consider the topic, mentioned in that second from the topmost graphic, specifically ISRAEL. As I remember the occasion, the three perfessers devoted some time to denouncing the incursion into Lebanon by the Israeli military. Now that I think about it, I can't recall any use of the word "disproportionate". However, I think one of them did allude to my "plan B" reader's letter . . . "mis-calculated" . . . ah, yeah. Here's something they should consider for meditation. How (?) did it happen that Lebanon ended up IN THE WAY! How (?) should the blame for that unfortunate happenstance be apportioned. Okay, I think I did the minimum duty required of me. And now, I want to muse a little about what I learned, while channel surfing. For a moment, I paused on the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC channel. According to one savant with some good physical evidence to affirm his hypothesis, our earth is one humongous nuclear reactor. Deep within mother earth's core, uranium is undergoing a process that's providing our earth with life-sustaining heat. From what I gathered, once that reactor goes dead, so does life on earth. And our lovely blue marble will become literally the "third rock" from the sun.. Here's what grabbed my attention. The guy has absolutely no idea about how long that reactor will be furnishing that life-sustaining heat . . . maybe, a hundred years, maybe, a billion. Over the past several centuries, humanity has bloodied the pages of history with disputes over religion. And if our earth does indeed become literally the third rock from the sun, humanity dies out, and so do all the disputes over religion, land, water, gold, national prestige, etc . . . oh, such a nice future to anticipate! . . . by the bye, for something that I think is worthy of contemplation, click on this hyperlink =====> corleone manifesto *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** Most likely, Jenna is an earnest-enough bright young thing, eager to begin her career in journalism. She may even dream of outshining, some fine day, Barbara Walters. Truth be told, the rest of her piece can recapped with the riff: "happy, happy, joy, joy". As I read the piece, I had a hunch the people at that dinner were minding their peaze and cues, as they scomped their peas and carrots. Well, I suppose one should congratuate those people for diplomacy, especially when steak knives might all too readily to hand. For a moment, let's speculate on what might've happened, had my good buddy whyz.ache.err been in attendance . . . oh, br'dah, I can hear him now. "ya'wanna know what smell I associate with dat bin Ladin gorpe . . . lemme tell'ya, camel . . . whenever I see his ugly puss with that towel wrapped around his head, he makes me think A-rabs go around on camels . . . whenever they wanna go shopping for cucumbers and prayer rugs, dey jump on their camel, and ride to dah nearest flea market." Ahemm, ahemm, of course, nowadays, Arabs are much likely to climb into their S.U.Vees, and cruise to the nearest mall to shop for cucumers and prayer rugs. This might be an appropriate point for me to re-print the reader's letter I submitted to the good students, who labor mightily on The PIPE DREAM, which is in this colour text: "Depending on point of view, I either torpedoed the recent panel on Israel, or ruined same with a stink bomb. I asked the question, and I'm quoting, "Is there any Muslim in the world capable of introspection?". "As perturbed certain Muslims were with me, they should've been even more perturbed with the "perfessers" on that panel. Whatever their intention, whatever their capacity, none of the perfessers named even one such Muslim. "After questions from the audience, I spoke with a couple Muslim students . . . gotta' admit, the conversations proved enlightening. For my part, I tried to acquaint them with a singular fact of history. "Between the end of the Second World War in Europe and the United Nations' partition of Palestine, Arab Islam was presented with a "once-in-a-millennium" opportunity. Anyway, in a reader's letter to The PRESS & SUN-BULLETIN, I mused what might've happened, had that opportunity been seized. "Maybe, instead of a Neil being the first human being to walk on the moon, it might've been a Mohammad. Funny how things work out. Ramadan begins with a sighting of the moon, which just happens to be a monument to American infidel technology. "toodles" Here's an observation about bin Ladin, which should embarrass the average Muslim, who happens to be capable of introspection. Whenever that camel jocket opens his big bazoo, he's talking out his ass, which happens to be a relic from the 15th (fifteenth) century . . . ah, yes, my little chick-a-dees, let's face facts. This particular holy warrior came on the scene about 600 (six hundred) years too late. He should've been around, when the Spanish monarchs Ferdinand and Isabella were expelling the Moors. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** I guess this is as good a time as any to explain some of the symbolism, inherent in my proposal for a nine/eleven memorial. First off, that "circled A" detail is a royalty-free photo of the moon. The "circled D" and "circled E" details represent, respectively, a male and female forearm. Okay, here's where it gets a tad convoluted. Note the green colour of these last two details. That's meant to recall the copper green of the State of Liberty, located on Liberty Island in Upper New York Bay. If any statue in the world is evocative of these United States of America, then surely it's got to be that statue. As those two details in the above graphic hold aloft that huge model of the moon, here's the message that's meant to be conveyed. The moon is now a monument to American infidel technology. toodles EPIMETHEAN COMMENT ====> Elsewhere, I hint at the motivation behind the undertaking of the 9/11 assault on this country. According to certain apologists for the gollums, albeit misguided, their assault accentuated the resentment, arising from so many "legitimate grievances". Well, maybe, had those gollums exercised a little introspection, they might've considered targets, more to the point of the bona fide grievances. In that case, they might've tried ramming those airliners into facilities of this country's NATIOINAL AERONAUTICS and SPACE ADMINISTRATION. . . . just for the heck of it . . . The way human nature works, the Arabs will fault the Jews for failing to heed God's command. As far fetched as that future canard goes, it will intensity to the point of lunacy. The Jews were sent by God and commanded by God to help the Arabs claim the moon for Islam, thus salvaging Arab prestige. In response, the Jews will express abject regrets for such shameful failure . . . imagine, slighting (!) the Deity. Their excuse being, the Jews were too busy thwarting annihilation by the very people they were supposed to be helping claim the moon for Islam. cowboy bob as "Robert Duvall" 2006-08-22T14:12:00.000-07:00 The above graphic shows a reader's letter of mine that was published in the regional newspaper of record. After some thought, I began conjecturing I should refresh my credentials as an adamantly adiaphoristic observer, through whose veins course sang froid. As for the following graphic, it's adduced to clue you, dear Reader and, I hope, devoted fan, in on the unfortunate consequences, stemming from the lack of a well formulated and prudent plan B. . . . oh, yeah, in the event better legibility is required, one needs only click on the graphic with text. PRINCIPLE INSPIRES ======> <== PRACTICALITY REQUIRES The following, I think, does resonate well with the above reader's letter. Anyway, here's text I left in the comment section of another blog, and I quote myself this way: "Unlike Americans with their Bible-thumping jackasses, we bar our Qu'ran-thumping jackasses from dragging us into ill-advised war. Had we known before about the abductions, we would've forwarded the appropriate authorities. Even though they may be a minority in their own country, everything should be done to spare those Palestinians and Lebanese, who seek only to purse a decent life,the horrors of ill-advised war." For no particular reason, I appended the above graphics and text to this post. However, there is a darn good reason for appending "sefton's easter egg" at the end of this post. I reckon it's only fair-minded of me to adduce an APOLOGIA for why I asked such a question of Professors Bix and Petras and Quataeret. . . . oh, yeah, I would still appreciate the visitor's perusing the text that precedes the easter egg. . . . oh, alright (!) already, maybe, I shouldn't pick on such an engaging and impressive actor. Nonetheless, I believe my purposes for the following essay are best served by presenting the visitor a dollop of alluring metaphor. Rather recently, Robert Duvall has become noted for being the mainstay in several western movies . . . oh, yes, at one time, the three major television networks, when they truly were major, ladled out generous portions of "ride, rape and revenge". I was enthralled by PALADIN . . . "swear by the vultures" . . . oh, br'dah, "oat burners", "horse operas". . . . ya'know, about the only Western I can recall as being set in the then present day was SKY KING . . . at the time, I considered his niece Kelly as nice eye-candy, but the why for my doing so eluded my comprehension . . . So far as I can recall, all the other teevee westerns were set in times, people got about on horseback, or in horse-drawn vehicles. Mr Duvall's latest remarkable western BROKEN TRAIL is set around the 1890s. In this instance, the "mcguffin" for the piece is a herd of 500 horses, which is to be driven from Oregon to Wyoming. I'm not sure, but I think the "chuck wagon" was drawn by a pair of horses. For no particular reason, I recall them as being well working draft animals. Now, let's suppose one of those animals were sickly. In that case, the cook, who drove the chuck wagon, would become increasingly frustrated, as the distance between himself and the herd grew. And that means that both of those draft animals are required to be good shape, if the pair are to prove well working. The topic of horses reminds of a clip, which gets shown every often on TURNER CLASSIC MOVIES. In the clip, director Sydney Pollack elucidates the difference between "letter box" and "pan and scan". With letter-box, the teevee screen shows all the elements in the scene that the movie director wants the viewer to see, even though some of the top and bottoms portions of the screen are blacked out. With pan-and-scan, the whole teevee screen is filled, but the side portions of the original screen are reduced. In the movie BEN HUR, the title character played by Charlton Heston is driving a chariot that is drawn by four horses. And he's racing several other chariot drivers. Anyway, in illustrating the difference between the ways of presenting the movie on the teevee screen, Mr Pollack has the viewer see four horses with letter box, and only three horses with pan-and-scan. Okay, here's where this post jumps off into some deep water. Now, let's take the chariot as representing our national economy. And each of the three horses is meant to meant to represent an influence on that economy. One horse can be meant to represent the Federal Reserve, the board of directors of which sets the interest rates, at which banks lend money. The other horse can be meant to represent the federal government, which can significantly influence the economy by such means as prompt disaster relief. And then, the last horse that can consigned to representing the tax code. In this instance, one must remember that "the power to tax is the power to destroy". And that means that all three horses, providing they're pulling in tandem, can pull the economy forward. . . . yeah and yeah again, it would be pretty easy to insert all kinds of other considerations into the metaphor. For now, however, let's stick with getting the economy forward. . . . At this point, let's recapitulate. The chariot stands for the economy, and the three horses stand for influences on the economy. aaaay! What about the charioteer? I mean the person driving the rig. As an answer to my own rhetorical question, I propose that the charioteer can represent economic theory. . . . okay, my little chick-a-dees, get ready for another leap into even deeper water. Click on this hyperlink ========> bubba da prez. toodles . . . sefton's easter egg . . . Blame it all on my admiration for Lenny Bruce as an audacious cultural pioneer, along with my distaste for his wrong-headed notion that his pioneering required self-destruction. Yes, I asked that question, and I'm quoting, . . . "Is (?) there any Muslim in the world capable of introspection!" . . . oh, yeah, I suppose I should describe the cause for, depending on one's point of view, my either torpedoing that presentation or ruining same with a stink bomb, ah, speaking metaphorically. Somehow, I feel that a higher priority is, rather, my noting just how upset were three Muslims I know of. From what I can tell the implicit point of the presentation was a stinging critique of the Jewish state. And those particular Muslims were there to savor that critique. Likely enough, those three professors had been taken to be knights in shining armour, ready and able and eager to slay the dragon. Imagine their shock, as they watched those knights get unhorsed by a stable boy with one sweep of a muck rake. Here's what gets me. The re-action that I as the figurative stable boy could be summarized in the catcall "despicable". Putting that stable boy in his place required just one of those professors to reel off the name of just one Muslim, whom he knew was capable of introspection. And not one of them did so. . . . gotta' admit . . . I do feel a little sympathy for the aforementioned Muslims . . . one of them was concerned enough to request a talk with that stable boy at the conclusiion of the presentation . . . and I did so . . . heck, I even gave him my business card . . . gotta' admit . . . the conversation was enlightening . . . well, for me it was . . . I can't say so for the other guy . . . . . . ya'know, here's the irony . . . had that question been tossed in my face, I would've been able to produce the name of one Muslim, who proved worthy of being known for introspection. . . . I guess I don't known when I'm well off, the visitor is hereby directed to click on the following hyperlink ====> sweetest nookie. sweetest nookie 2006-08-07T14:26:00.000-07:00 Wood'jah (?) buh-leave! The cultural significance of Lenny Bruce fueled the bitterest dispute I ever had with Avram. Elsewhere in this blog, I've written about the latter man. These days, I whinge, whenever I recall the couple years I spent, trying to make it in stand-up comedy. I whinge even more, when I recall how I billed myself, "Lenny Bruce LITE" . . . oh, br'dah, what (?) was I thinking! . . . the last time I got frisked by a cop, she was at least 5'10'' (I like'em tall), and just out of the police academy, and built for sin, I mean SERIOUS sin . . . lemme tell'ya, her face went beet red, when she--never mind! It should be easy to infer that Avram regarded Lenny as an abomination. As for me, I still chuckle, when I read Lenny's "'to' is a preposition" riff. That's how much of an innovator he was. I think that particular routine got him hauled up before the judge on charges of "public obscenity". Today, of course, shtick like that is rube roast on The COMEDY CENTRAL cable channel. Compared to how Islam, in Avram's opinion, spent centuries vandalizing the holy writ of older religions, Lenny figured as only a minor abomination. The way Avram described the process. It began with how the Qu'ran's version of Christ's birth differs markedly from that in the Christian New Testament. Later on, Muslim scholars would claim they had rebutted the Old Testament account of Abraham's obedience to the Almighty. Instead of Isaac, so those scholars claimed, Abraham had, by the Almighty, been commanded to sacrifice Ishmael, his other and older son. Incidentally, according to the Old Testament, as written in the original Hebrew, Ishmael went on to be the patriarch of the Arabs. . . . ya'know, one might think that this Muslim attempt to somehow elevate Ishmael above Isaac would've infuriated Avram . . . aaay, now that I think about it . . . I do recall how vehemently he expressed his displeasure . . . oh, yeah, I think I'm recalling the occasion, when we got our hands on six-packs of IRON CITY. Any other time, Avram would let it pass with a dismissive snort. Somewhere along the way, Avram might've immersed himself in Jungian psychology. Now that I think about it, I wouldn't be surprised, if he had actually helped Jung formulate the theory of "racial memory". . . . oh, yeah, you, the person who's reading this post on the monitor, look about ever so discreetly, it's advisable that you let what's on the monitor stay on the monitor . . . Anyway, Avram imparted to me in the strictest confidence that he was absolutely positive that Muslims, especially Arab Muslims, are "sensitive" about the status of Hagar, who was Ishmael's mother and Abraham's concubine . . . aaay, you, whyz.ache.err, gimme some credit for diplomacy here, will'ya (?) puh-lease! Perhaps, it's that sensitivity that impelled the vandalization in question. . . . oh, br'dah, it's a good bet that, were Lenny around today . . . AND IN HIS PRIME . . . he'd have a field day . . . . . . darn, darn, if only there were somebody, who could channel Lenny. In that case, we could be treated to something like so: " . . . ba'da'bing . . . over the years, those Muslims have been trying to spruce up their branch of OUR . . . I can say "our" because I'm a nice jewish boy . . . our family tree by monkeying with the holy writ of older religions . . . ". . . aaay, c'mon, Muslims, knock it off . . . you have no business monkeying around with the Talmud . . . ah, the Old Testament, nor even the New Testament, for that matter . . . " . . . lemme tell'ya, it's downright embarrassing . . . it's like wetbacks trying to pass themselves off as relations of Candace Bergen because her connection with some ship that brought over the Pilgrims . . . well, I for one enjoyed her television portrayal of the MAYFLOWER madam . . . aaay, you Muslims, yer like making a joke of your own religion . . . " . . . if ya'wanna monkey around like that, do so with your own holy writ . . . how'z'bout (?) sticking something like this in your Qu'ran . . . "'Even though Abraham had tossed Hagar out of his tent, he kept in touch. * Whenever Abraham found himself toting serious wood, he'd consort with Hagar, who was the sweetest nookie he had ever scompt.'" In the movie ARROW, "Toriano" as played by Jack Palance incites an uprising by tribe of Apache native Americans. The antagonist to that character is played by Charlton Heston. Evidently afflicted by Asperberger's Syndrome, Heston's character has, with one exception, failed miserably to win over either Apache or white as a friend. Heston's character has an interesting background, having been raised by the Apaches in question. Upon his reaching adulthood, he and the tribe parted ways. What I like about the guy is the cool manner in which he "owns" his background. "While you were learning your ciphers, I was learning how to slit a man's throat so it would take him twenty-four hours to die." ARROW has the aspect of a detective story, in that it's up to Heston's character to discover how Toriano could motivate the tribe to go on the warpath. Suddenly, it comes to him. "It was never talked about. It was painted on a rock. It was chanted in a chant." Heston's character is referring to the legend of the "invincible one", who would lead his people to victory, ever lasting. LYE'KAH BOLT AH'DA'DAH BLUE Avram would allude to an event that I was given to infer could be described as a "second crucifixion". In time, so Avram avouched, American Christians would, ah, maybe way in the back, worship alongside Jews at the Western Wall. Those Americans would be there to pray at the site, where was forged that profoundly mystical bond between Israel and their country. . . . I wonder does (?) does the forging of such a bond require a human sacrifice . . . Whenever I would hear Avram spout off like that, I'd figure the COORS had induced a short circuit, or two, in his brain. One time, sensing a chance to get him to say something completely "off the wall", I asked him just what (?) the hell was he talking about. He did not disappoint me. From what I can recall, I could swear he was talking like some sort of native American shaman . . . something about "places of spirit". For my part, I remember reading passages in that piece of bald-faced propaganda by Leon Uris. Maybe, in an attempt to salvage what remained of that "once-in-a-millennium" opportunity, the monarch of Jordan met with emissaries of the Israeli government. The conflict between Arab and Jew could, so the monarch proposed, be resolved by the Israelis' agreeing to subordinate themselves under his protection. Speaking for the Israeli government, Golda Meir rejected the proposal. Not too long after that, the monarch met up with Allah on the Temple Mount, through assassination by some fervid Palestinian partisan. . . . oh, yeah, I gotta admit. This later profoundly mystical bond fits more easily within Avram's category of thought than mine. Maybe, I'm stubborn, mule-headed even. I remain adamantly adiaphoristic. I still say, "It's a matter for psychology". toodles As a service for two groups people, who've gotten tnis far, here are two tips. One, to make the below graphic larger for better legibility, one needs only click on it. Second, people , who'd like to read a bit more about Lenny Bruce, shall be direced presently to a hyperlink. Before clicking on "more about Lenny", they should be alerted that the post is headed by a rather startling graphic. Please be assured it's there for good purpopse. And now here's the promised hyperlink: more about Lenny. With regard to the above graphic, it's meant to serve a couple purposes. For one thing, I hope it'll draw casual curious visitors to the text just above. Second, I'd like to stake my claim to a scoop . . . oh, by the bye, I've made sure to give myself plenty of weasel wiggle, so as to gainsay the claim, in the event my harebrained conjecture is proven totally and absolutely and ridiculously mistaken . . . onto the scoop. I'm willing to wager my five doughnuts to somebody's three felafels that the Iranian nuclear agency is in deep shit. Their special weapons facility at Natanz (Kashan) is in imminent danger of replicating a Chernobyl disaster. . . . oh, br'dah, talk about silly irony . . . The Iranian ayatollahs had that place built to provide themselves with weapons to polish off some pesky state about three countries over. Never did they dream that their Allah-ordained facility could turn out to be a dagger aimed at the heart of their regime. . . . gets me . . . the person, who got me thinking about, for a thinking person, such a funny situation was Randi Rhodes, leftie talk-radio loon. According to her, all the stuff that anybody bought ever so clandestinely from some Pakistani grifter for the production of atomic weaponry was, and I'm quoting her, "crap". . . . more "italian" than you realize . . . 2006-07-24T11:07:00.000-07:00 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." reckoned in bloodshed 2006-07-19T06:36:00.000-07:00 . . . 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! of mice and martyrs 2006-07-10T17:30:00.000-07:00 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 règle 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. jay and fitz and kay spell poison 2006-07-06T14:45:00.000-07:00 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. concluded second sefton potpourri 2006-06-21T13:42:00.000-07:00 Absolutely nobody cared enough to ask me for my opinion. Really, one would think I would take a hint to keep it to myself. Anybody who thinks that has got to be a first-time visitor or densely naïve. Being both is not unheard of. Somewhat to my chagrin, my rather perversely snide temper goaded me enough to burrow into my memory. In this case, I mean that portion, which is Coors befogged, Coors warped, Coors perforated, Coors impaired,Coors truncated . . . yea, even Coors blighted. I went burrowing in hopes of pacifying that perversely snide temper by extracting enough recollection to justify my advancing a certain inference. Anyway, it's not so much something I care enough about to invest a great deal of cognitive capital. More like, it has much more to do with what I think is a bunch of hints, tossed my way by some insalubrious male progeny of wretched canine maternity during one . . . or was it two, or three? no matter! . . . all-night dialogue, which was fueled by several six-packs of Coors. Maybe, I'm doing history a disservice by sparing the reader an exegesis on those hints, which I can barely recall. So what?! Let's slash to the cheese. Sometime in the early 50s of the last century, the desecration of the Temple Mount was accomplished by some assassination, or other, in the al-Aqsa mosque. . . . eYep, the above is the first item in this potpourri . . . chances are, the next item will deal with American domestic politics . . . dear visitor, y'all come back, rhaht? . . . okay, the text above is the first item, now here's the second - Well, it took a while but I did happen upon a provocative way to begin the reader's letter I had promised to submit to the PRESS & SUN-BULLETIN . . . here goes: "In the glory of the heavens, wherein Allah reigns supreme, His Qu'ran and our calendar are now as one." . . . eYep, you read it right, dear Reader. That's exactly how I'm planning to start that letter. It's a good guess that people familiar with my musings as I wear my philosophaster hat can readily guess what has to follow. Soon as I do write the letter, I'll publish it somewhere in this blog . . . pinky swear. . . . oh, well, maybe next time, that item will deal with American domestic politics. . . . I did it. I did submit that letter to the PRESS & SUN-BULLETIN. Here and Now, I should make the reader aware that I reserve the right to be smarter today than I was yesterday. And so, I changed my mind a little . . . oh, by the bye, this is that THIRD ITEM. And as for the promised fourth item . . . . . . here's hoping the corporate types, who run this country, have learned a valuable lesson the hard way . . . better a smart adversary than a stupid friend . . . For the fifth item, I feel like jazzing up an earlier "bon mot". Electing politicians, who hate government, is not unlike putting a guy, who hates dogs, in charge of a dog kennel. And now . . . ta'dah! . . . for the sixth item . . . yow'zah! In my "moon stink" post, I got out on a limb by prognosticating that, eventually, a book with "imbecile" in the title will eventually be published. Well, I guess the way it'll work out for the American high jinks, now unfolding in Iraq, will be something like so. The adversary, who blunders less egregiously, wins. Two factors are involved in that last statement. First off, the winning imbeciles chose the only battlefield, where victory was even remotely possible. Second, it would've impossible for them to choose a more accommodating enemy. Here's how it works out. First off, the Kurds, who number about twenty percent (20%) of the population were already on the side of the imbeciles. Second, their common enemy alienated the Shi'a, who make up sixty percent (60%) of the population. So, the gollums, fighting the imbeciles, effectively isolated themselves in the remaining twenty percent (20%) of the population. Oh, yeah, here's the seventh item - Outside of that last mention percentage, the average Iraqi thinks the American troops and their so-called coalition partners are nothing but a bunch of murderous thugs. So (?) what! It'll take murderous thugs to defeat the gollums. Here's that eighth item -Each day, more and more people, who habitually click onto FOX NEWS are learning, the hard way undoubtedly, that there's much more to government than reducing taxes on those best able to afford paying, curtailing spending on programs for those most in need, and policing female genitalia. . . . oh, yeah, here's the ninth item, the Palestinian people are unfortunate in their leadership. However, it's not so much because their leadership seldom misses an opportunity to blow off an opportunity. It's much worse than that. Ninety-nine (99) times out a hundred (100), given the chance to shoot themselves in the foot, Palestinian leadership has done so . . . in a heartbeat . . . cheerfully. And the tenth item . . . I suspect that word about my "the supremes . . . GODLESS COMMIES!" prompted several visits . . . right here and now, I may as well confirm that I do have a snide sense of humor . . . maybe, I should revise the text therein to advise those visitors to peruse my "bubba da prez ..." post . . . Okay, here's the promised eleventh item - I think I have some feeling for how Zarathustra felt, just after his insightful irruption. Anyway, here's what I have to say with regard to the average Palestinian. Probably, such an individual, who's attained the conventional age of reason, would more readily concede Israel's right to exist than admit failure to seize a "once-in-a-millennium" opportunity. now for that twelfth item - . . . birds are the way they are because that's how their genes express themselves . . . bees are the way they are because their genes express themselves . . . maybe, political parties are the way they are because that's how their genes exoress themselves. As for the Republican Party, might (?) it be that their inherent genes are most truthfully expressed by the current presidency! thirteenth and concluding item - . . in the manner of a bolt out of the blue, an insight took my breath away . . In the movie PATTON, the actor portraying the general remarks that Americans love winners, and loathe losers. For my part, I suspect the same applies very much to the gorpes, who expended oodles of money to help Hezbollah ingratiate themselves with Lebanon's southern Shi'ites by means of a myriad of wonderful social services. There's no denying what were the terms of the deal between Hezbollah and the gorpes in question. In return for that money, Hezbollah was to vex the Israelis. Oh, yes, along with the money, some weaponery was included in the deal. After all, it's pretty hard to vex an entire nation such as Israel, if all one has at hand is felafel. After all the shooting and the bombing and the shelling stop, Hezbollah will be lucky, if they're allowed to keep pop guns. It was very uncool for their leadership to claim they would welcome WORLD WAR !!!. Nope, that was very not so cool. I'm willing to bet my five doughnuts against somebody's three that the powers that be are now looking askance at Hezbollah. It's one thing to vex a nation, it's quite another to threaten the whole world with the prospect of a nuclear winter. The minute Hezbollah is bereft of the capacity to vex Israel, they'll also be bereft of the money, needed to fund that aforementioned myriad of wonderful social services. After all, why (?) should the aforementioned gorpes dump money down a rat hole, absent any prospect of service in return. . . . talk about irony! . . . Just when the people, who benefited from the myriad of Hezbollah's social services, need those social services the most, they'll be lucky to get a C.A.R.E package . . . and likely enough, they'll be expected to pay for shipping and handling. And to think, I was planning to write an item with the title, and I'm quoting, "Did (?) Hezbollah fail to rescue (!) Islam" oh, well, maybe, another time, I'll explore that theme. toodles ....../ .he who is known as sefton garden party crashed 2006-06-10T11:55:00.000-07:00 . . . How (?) does one crash a garden party! . . . . . . Let me count the ways . . . The once "teen dream boat" and later late rock'n'roll star, Ricky Nelson, unintentionally crashed a garden party, granted with good intent. Instead of repeating some golden oldie, for the millionth time, such as NEVER BE ANYONE ELSE BUT YOU, he introduced the crowd of long-in-the-tooth teenagers in love to freshly minted material. . . . well, the freshly minted material received a chilly reception . . . the crowd in Madison Square Garden bought their tickets to groove to tunes, the magic of which had made their long-ago years in high school tolerable, interspersed with enchanted moments . . . eYep, that's one way to crash a garden party. The experience did lead to some more new music. Ricky was inspired to compose GARDEN PARTY. And then, there's my way. If being true to myself means my becoming nothing to everybody, very well then, I shall brace myself for whatever comes, from my being true to myself. At this point, one might expect me to aver my preference for being hated for who I am over being loved for who I am not. . . . well, I feel obligated to qualify that just a tad, by referring to a rock'n'roll innovator, Elvis Costello. He turned heads with his song WHAT'S SO FUNNY ABOUT PEACE, LOVE AND UNDERSTANDING. At the time, he was something else. When SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE was still SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE, he accepted a gig to perform a tune, during that live and, at that time, straight-to--air telecast. Mr Costello wanted to perform one song, whereas the show's producer expressed a preference for another. So, during the live and straight-to-air telecast, Elvis begins his gig with a bar of the song the producer preferred. Being a free spirit, the rock'n'roll verbally declines to continue with that song, and then launches straightway into the tune he prefers. I have it via a very good source that the jilted producer, standing just behind the teevee camera, was flipping Elvis the bird. When I heard the scuttlebutt, I spontaneously confessed that I never would've had the "guts" to emulate our particular Elvis. Nowadays, every so often, I get awarded "brownie points" by the figuratively speaking local garden party. And I'm disinclined to spurn them. In truth, I appreciate those brownie points, if only because they enhance the quality of my life, here in the Pennsylvania borough of Susquehanna Depot. Evidently, it's become expected of me to toss off, occasionally, a snippet of my snide sense of humor. Maybe, that's how come I got excused for proposing "homoërotique" as a brand logo for a cologne that commemorates this country's lunar landing. The great General Charles De Gaulle is quoted as saying, "Old age is a shipwreck". If that's true, then middle-age might be considered a worn tire in dire need of additional air pressure. Smacking more of bathos than pathos, our particular Elvis briefly shows up in the first AUSTIN POWERS movie. Accompanied by Burt Bacharach, he sings I'LL NEVER FALL IN LOVE AGAIN. Oh, what the hay, I may as well continue with my snide sense of humor. Elsewhere in this blog, one shall find sefton posts that delight Jewish visitors. Evidently, they dig my averring that the moon exudes the scent of "macho TOP GUN 'need for speed'". My five doughnuts to somebody's three, those few Palestinian visitors fail to be tickled pink. And who (?) can blame them! In their considered opinion, they get taunted by some wise ass with the alleged failure by their predecessors to seize a "once-in-a-millennium" opportunity . . . c'mon, if it happened, that was sixty (60) years ago. I'm told that Palestinians meet up with their friends in this or that café. In certain places like that, some knot, or other, of their "avant garde" congregates, less to consume coffee than to congratulate each other for accepting a commission in their mode of existence. With the world having become "global village", eventually, the notion of "'once-in-a-millennium' opportunity" will come to the attention of some knot, or other, of the Palestinian avant garde. Soon or later, quips inspired by that notion will be thrown like darts in some London pub . . . I mean a place, where warm beer washes down deep-fried-dry fish and greasy chips. . . . "Some 'once-in-a-millennium' opportunity! The Americans got Einstein. We got stuck with Bernie the attorney." . . . toodles ....../ .he who is known as sefton garden party crashed - snide follow-up 2006-06-05T14:28:00.000-07:00 How (?) come the Muslim counterpart of the infidel Angelina "Lara Croft" Jolie has yet (!) to make her appearance in Darfur. Oh, alright (!) already, so, it doesn't take much to evoke the snide in me. No doubt about it, I was inspired by the clipping to insert the above quip in green text. Elsewhere in this blog, I pose a provocative question. "Is there any Muslim in the world, capable of introspection." In response, someone avowed the question practically begged for NO as an answer. And in response to that, I allowed that Iraq's Grand Ayatollah for the Shi'a, al-Sistani, does, from time to time, display that capacity. In this instance, were he worthy of the high regard in which he's held, being informed about that clipping should've caused the grand ayatollah to weep with shame. Really, just were (?) in the world are those Muslim groups, who are trying to prevent Muslim slaughtering Muslim. So far as I'm concerned, the Darfur genocide is a Muslim scandal. Really, how (?) does it happen that Muslims have to depend on Jews to keep from being murdered by other Muslims! . . . well, there might be more to come, but focused on the "general run of humanity", as regards the Palestinian alleged failure to seize a "once-in-a-millennium" opportunity . . . we shall see . . . . . . snide continues . . . There's a story in ancient Greek mythology about a king, who offended some god or goddess. In reprisal, his ears were transmuted. In all of his kingdom, only his barber knew the truth about the king's ears. The barber was an incorrigible gossip to the point that keeping mum was incinerating his nerves. Were he to blab, he would in short order incur the king's wrath, execution. Near the barber's house, there was a pond, wherein grew a bed of reeds. Seeking relief from the burden of the king's secret, the barber would, at dawn, visit the pond, making sure nobody was around, close enough to eavesdrop. Then and there, he would whisper his secret to the reeds. Evidently, the offended deity was hell bent on punishing the king. So, whenever the wing blew through the reeds, people would hear, "the king has ass's ears, the king has ass's ears, the king has ass's ears . . ." For years, I had to wonder why Avram Beilitzsyn had bothered with me. Now, I believe that story goes a long way towards clarifying the mystery. Whereas everybody else saw in Avram a brilliant but sorry ass loser, I saw a casualty for the sake of his ideal of spirit. In my considered opinion, just as a military casualty for the sake of worthwhile cause is worthy of respect, so too is such a casualty as was Avram. I realize now he was bursting at the seams to impart to somebody, with the capacity to appreciate, startling insights, disruptive observations. Simultaneously, he was living in a world that was in no way ready for such. Often, we would pass the night in conversation, splitting six-pack of Coors after six-pack of Coors. I never drank so much beer before, or since. . . . whatever the government, the authorities found Avram a bit much . . . eYep, that's the kind of hairpin he was. Back when I could stay up all night, swilling beer, discussing the eschatological implications of Nietzsche, I was fascinated by people, such as Avram, who were driven . . . I mean absolutely driven . . . to plumb the depths, to scale the heights, to pioneer in undiscovered countries of mind and spirit and heart. Nowadays, in this the beginning of the 21st century, bits and pieces of those conversations bob up in my mind . . . oh, just for the heck of it, I'm repeating, as best as my Coors-impaired memory allows, here what Avram claimed as the "truthiness" about the relationships among Abraham, Isaac and Ishmael. In the Judaic Old Testament, Abraham was commanded by God to sacrifice Isaac. According to certain Muslim scholars, Allah rather demanded Ishmael as the huam sacrifice. According to Avram, both traditions report certain facets of the truth, while omitting certain other facets. Here's what should've been reported, according to Avram. Ishmael begged Abraham to spare Isaac. . . . here's where my Coors impaired memory gets, well, blurry . . . maybe, Abraham was petitioned to defy God . . . maybe, Abraham was petitioned to try appeasing the Almighty with a vol-- . . . ew, please excuse me for a moment, the mere attempt to recall that bit of conversation evokes the absolutely heinous nausea of the most wicked hangovers I ever had to endure . . . nowadays, when it comes to indulgence in alcoholic beverages, I'm pretty much restricted to a goblet of merlot with a nice steak dinner . . . I mean fillet mignon, smothered in mushrooms and sautéed leeks, and absolutely NO ketchup . . . oh, yeah, and I want a decent orchestra in the background, playing Eddy Duchin. . . . oh, yeah, oh, yeah, now I recall . . . oh, yeah, Avram was intrigued by some Arab proverb . . . "those who ask Allah for nothing insult the Deity." . . . Now, let's suppose, Avram would say, that God, out of sheer generosity, without being asked, bestowed upon somebody most in need a marvelous boon. If asking God for nothing riles the Deity. Spurning just such a gift has got to be infuriating, to say the least. . . . ya'know, Avram would say, with a wink, there's darn little percentage in ticking off the Almighty. Not too long ago, somebody had the nerve to throw my own words in my face. I had absolutely no right to be so hard on an entire religion for making an allegedly "wrong" choice . . . "let the infidel Americans have the moon, we'll keep the mount" . . . To allow for the simple possibility of making the allegedly "right" choice for the moon, the general run of humanity had to be settled, at that time, on a much loftier plateau of spirit, the quest for which via heart and mind and soul inspired Avram . . . now that I think about it . . . that might be another reason for why he bothered with me. Unlike so many of my contemporaries, I could at least posit, well, if only as a matter worthy of intellectual discussion, if only for the sake of pleasant diversion, the possibility of this or that "lofty" plateau of spirit. ah, sorry about that long list of qualifiers . . . Anyway, that bit about that "plateau of spirit" does reflect exactly my thinking about the impossible choice that fate or history or Providence or the Deity had dropped upon Islam. We have it on the word of five-star General Douglas MacArthur, Japan's American pro tem satrap, that success is a poor teacher . . . failure must make for a wondrous one, or should at any rate. Truthiness be told, I'm perturbed by what might be the task, assigned me by the general scheme of things. In as much as I am struck by my awe-inspiring humility being my most illustrious virtue, well . . . anyway . . . Maybe, I'm putting the finishing touches on that aforementioned task. If so, great, I would like to start selling life insurance to the end of paying down my credit card debt . . . wood'ja (?) buh-leave! It was embarrassing, when I told "Tony Thumbs" about how interest I'm paying. That man wept with envy. . . . What if, Avram threw out, after we had finished splitting a third six-pack, God or Jehovah or Yahweh or Allah sets up tests, with the intention of having us fail . . . perhaps, the tests could be for us as individuals . . . perhaps, for us as secular institutions . ... as entire religions . . . Being adamantly adiaphorestic, even back then, I took that "what if" as some sort of joke rabbinical students share only among themselves. Even so, I latched onto it, in spite of my inebriation. Back then, I was eager to listen to Avram as he compared and contrasted Jewish theionics with Christian theionics. At this point, I am compelled by my snide nature to refer another military worthy, namely, brevet Admiral James Tiberius Kirk, master and commander of the starship ENTERPRISE (NCC-1701). In one episode, the good captain recalls the test he had to take, when he was a midshippeur at "Star Fleet Academy". Every midshippeur and midshippeuse, who had preceded him, failed the test. Kirk passed. As the test was set up by Kirk's instructors, there was absolutely no chance for him to complete it successfully. On his own, without bothering to asking for permission, Kirk altered the test constraints, thereby allowing him to complete the test successfully. Funny thing, instead of getting reprimanded for that gambit, Kirk the midshippeur received a commendation. Here's where I honk my own horn, so to speak. Midshippeur Kirk's approach resonates beautifully with the fourth item in my The CORLEONE MANIFESTO . . . "what is above our heads and what is underneath our feet are small matters, compared to what is within us" . . . oh, yeah, I'm obligated to admit that the foregoing is cribbed from Goethe. Anyway, the manifesto in question is found at the very bottom of this blogsite. Between there and here, you, dear Reader, are bound to encounter some very interesting material . . . honest injun . . . my five doughnuts to your three . . . toodles ...../ .he who is known as sefton the problem with the Palestinians - Their problem is not so much that, whatever their leadership, the Palestinians never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity. It goes deeper than that. Given the chance to shoot themselves in the foot, the Palestinians do so . . . in a heartbeat ... cheerfully. moon stink whupt gollum butt 2006-06-05T14:27:00.000-07:00 More than just for the heck of it, this post's opening passages resonate with the drollery of its title. Years and years ago, I espied a rather charming aphorism in the office of Oregon State University's most notable Communist . . . oh, what a wonderful geezer, Professor Goheen was! In my eye of memory, I can see the quaint calligraphy . . . A jot of nonsense, every now and then, is relished by the wisest of men. Oh, yes, at this point, I feel obligated to alert you, dear Reader, that the concept of "wisdom" will eventually rear its rather singular head. For now, however, let's indulge in a little more drollery with a joke that abut, metaphorically speaking, on the notion of "whupt". Let's start with a question: . . . How (?) does one tell the Pollack at the cock fight. And the answer is, "He's the guy who brought the duck." . . . How (?) does one tell the Italian at the cock fight. And the answer is, "He's the guy who bets on the duck." . . . How (?) does one know the Mafia has an interest in the fight. And the answer is, "The duck wins." For a moment, let's try to infer the reactions of those, who with a snigger bet against the duck. C'mon, it's gotta reasonable to infer puzzlement, indignation . . . perhaps, even chagrin. Manifestly, only a sucker takes such an obvious sucker bet. Taking that inference just a step further, we can conjecture how Muslims reacted to their defeats at the hands of the Israelis. Even when they catch the Israelis by surprise, as during the Yom Kippur War, they still lose. By rights, the state of Israel should today be relegated to the history books as a "GONE WITH THE WIND" phantasm. Elsewhere, I've avowed that, within a narrow window of history, fate had imposed upon Islam a choice between mutually exclusive alternatives. Choosing one meant obviating the other. In a manner of speaking, let's slash to the cheese. The choice Islam made has led to the necessity of bearing up under several ignominies. One springs from the scent the moon must exude for centuries to come. I mean the scent of "macho TOP GUN 'need for speed'", ever since that first message from the moon to the earth, and I'm quoting, "the eagle has landed." That means the religious observance of the Faithful is on a timetable that's determined by the phases of a monument to American infidel technology, ultimately to the infidel United States of America. Had Islam chosen the other alternative, maybe, that first message could've been, and I'm quoting by way of supposition, "In the glory of the heavens, wherein Allan reigns supreme, His Qu'ran and our calendar are as one." Yeah, I do mention another ignominy, but let's refrain from pouring it on. Instead, lemme focus on the IMPLICIT meaning of this piece's title. By "moon stink", I'm referring to the United States of America. People, familiar with American rural dialect, recognize "whupt" as the past tense of "whip". As for "gollum", that'll come up later. Elsewhere, I aver that the average Israeli is too embarrassed to concur with a certain statement. That statement being, the average Palestinian has the soul of a gollum. And the average Israeli is too self-respecting to demur. By reasonable extension, "gollum" may be applied to those Muslims, who would welcome the destruction of Israel. And if one goes one more step, the killing of a major operative for al Qaeda in Iraq by a couple five-hundred-pound bombs means the killing of a major gollum. Oh, by the way, people, who are familiar with LORD OF THE RINGS, are well aware of that term's connotations. Again, let's slash to the cheese, eventually some brash glory hound of a history will pen an exegesis of the American triumph in Iraq. If the historian in question is an American, likely enough, the title will be something like so, "HOW OUR IMBECILES WON THE 'GOLLUM' WAR". If the historian in question is a Muslim, likely enough, the title will be something like so, "WHY OUR GALLANT HOLY WARRIORS CHOSE TO SPARE THE IRAQI PEOPLE FURTHER BLOODSHED" . . . yeah, sure. . . . eYep, it all could've been avoided, had Islam opted for that other alternative. Again, elsewhere, I come close to claiming that Islam's opting for that other alternative would've had to depend on a certain circumstance. Specifically, the general run of humanity would've had to inhabit a much loftier plateau of spirit than then . . . and than now. Adiaphorestic me, I say, "Just as well". Expecting the general run of humanity to inhabit such a plateau would be expecting koi to thrive in a pond, set up by some "do-it-yours" doofus on the summit of Mount Everest. At the moment, the general run of Islam is being roiled by the very existence of the state of Israel. . . . Well, with regard to that, I say to those people, to whom it concerns, "oh, br'dah, you ain't seen n't'in yet." In an easily foreseeable future, the general run of Islam will be royally roiled. Okay, now that I got the average reader to this point, I like indulging in a little philosophaster musing. This easily foreseeable future will raise questions about "spirituality". Here's the thing. Let's entertain the notion that Islam opted for the obviated alternative. And that led to a first message from the moon, redolent with frankincense and myrrh. In that case, Islam would've been allowed to enjoy a century, or more, of continuous "gender peace". Of course, there will be those, who'll toss around such terms as "female oppression", "patriarchal tyranny", "dictatorship of testosterone", et cetera. Yes and yes again, the good people at the "hear, O Israel" blog have yet to grant me formal permission to forge a hyperlink to the relevant post there. To that, I say, "So (?) what!" I'm a wonderful person, whose most illustrious virtue is my awe-inspiring humility. Anyway, the hyperlink will be found just underneath the closing endorsement. As for me, who am known as sefton, I'm predicting some glory hound of a newly minted philosophy professor will write a book, the title of which will be something like, "PROLEGOMENA TO ANY FUTURE EMPIRICAL SPIRITUALITY" . . . bastard, anyway . . . will I get so much (?) as a mention in a footnote! . . . doan'be an ass! . . . yeah, I'm bitter . . . I have a right to be . . . I have a right to sing the blues. There are simply way too few years left to me, during which I can accumulate the necessary academic credentials to undertake such a task . . . and don't even (!) think of throwing of Immanuel Kant in my face. toodles ...../ .he who is known as sefton click on, probe about, and depending on your orientation, either welcome or deplore http://hearoisrael.blogspot.com/2006/06/freedom-fighter.html EPIMETHEAN COMMENT reviewing the tail end this post, I'm compelled to exhale with a "wow!" The next time I write something about the Middle East, I'll be sure to comply with the following protocol. First off, I shall refrain writing the piece directly in my blog. Instead, I'll write on a separate word processor. And then, after I finish writing, I shall let it "age" for a few days, before I dare take it up again. Just to reassure my numerous devoted fans, I'm writing this in a coolly deliberative mood. I'm deliberately allowing the original text to remain as I first published it . . . in a word STET. Certainly, I can easily revise the above. And that's what people should expect of a regular blogger. In my case, however, revision post factum would smack of "cheating". Besides, I'm standing by my prognostication that something like the aforementioned "prolegomena" will be penned by some brash glory hound, with a newly minted philosophy doctorate. I suppose I should make like a gentleman, and wish all the best for that individual. Take my word for it. That freshly ordained philosophy professor will need lots and lots and lots of intellectual stamina. In no way, do I envy that bastard that task. Just to prove that I am in a coolly deliberative mood, I shall now animadvert to that incident, wherein some teenage girl is videotaped screaming for her deceased father, killed by a wayward artillery shell. Evidently, the Hamas-led Palestinian Authority claims that clip justifies tossing explosives into Israel with rudely fabricated rockets.Well, I saw that clip, thanks to some cable news channel. . . . ya'know, I had no idea there may well be a film school in Berlin. The technique reminded me more of Weimar impressionism than Scorsese. However, some cineastes might be justified to aver Italian neorealism. . . HERE I STAND . . . Yes and yes again, I believe members of an innocent Palestinian family were killed and injured . . . there's some dispute about just whose explosive was the immediate cause . . . maybe, errant Israeli artillery shell, maybe, mis-placed Palestinian land mine . . . Still, I strongly suspect that effrontery took place in the contrivance of that "news" clilp . . . one would think that somebody would be trying to comfort that grieving young woman, rather than videocording her grief . . . Maybe, my recall of previous attempts by Palestinian gollums to exploit other painful incidents coloured my intuition . . . What follows is going to be a little elaborated, so, please, dear Reader, have a little patience . . . The topic concerns so-called martyrs, who commit murder by suicidally detonating explosives inside a bus, crammed with non-combatant civilians. It's one thing for an adult, who's say eighteen (18) years old, to do so . . . however horrible such an act may be . . . It's an even worse offense . . . I'd say to the point of nauseating . . . to indoctrinate small children to the end they'll admire such martyrs, and even aspire to carry out such murders. Here's how Palestinian gollums deepened my adiaphorestic temper. Somehow, some small boy, I guess no more than eleven years old, got killed during a contretemps with Israeli authorities. yeah and yeah again, likely enough, the Palestinian authorities staged an elaborate funeral for the kid . . . And then, Palestinian media broadcast an interview with the kid, who was allegedly enjoying his new residence in Paradise. In case, dear Reader, you missed the point, please allow me to elucidate. Palestinian media were broadcasting an interview with a kid, who had BEFOREHAND already died and gone to heaven. Maybe, that broadcast was for the benefit of some few adults, dumb enough to believe such an interview was possible. Nonetheless, the implication is unavoidable. That broadcast was meant to convince unsuspecteding kids to expect some sort of celestial reward by murderous martyrdom . . . . . . thank God, I'm adiaphorestic . . . oh, yeah, and now for the maraschino cherry on top of the sundae . . . even al-Jazeera agrees that a certain gollum got taken out by a couple five-hundred-pount bombs . . . here's the thing in that nobody's talking about the sex of the pilots, who delivered the bombs . . . ya'know, they could've been female. scavenger hunt continues . . . yes and yes again, I did comply with the protocol with regard to this inserted text. And I'm glad I did. Funny, is it not? Thousands of Palestinians have, over the years, sacrificed life and limb and even decency for the sake of destroying Israel. And yet, the average Palestinian, who's attained the conventional age of reason, would more readily concede Israel's right to exist than admit the failure to sieze a "once-in-a-millennium" opportunity. somewhere farther on down in this blog, there's another item in this scavenger hunt . . . happy hunting! the scent of the moon 2006-06-05T14:25:00.000-07:00 Somewhere in some of the finest reportage ever written, OF A FIRE ON THE MOON, the piece's author, novelist Norman Mailer, remarks on the absence of odor. In a reader's letter to the periodical that published the piece, Mailer gets confuted. There was an odor, specifically, the aroma of "Presbyterian sanctity". Maybe, those of us with a developed olfactory sense for metaphor would demur with the novelist and that reader. If there had been anything in that lunar project that reeked, it was that first message from the moon to the earth, specifically, and I'm quoting, "the eagle has landed". . . . okay, so I can be a little slow on the uptake. In this case, it took me nearly two decades to become aware of the scent of macho TOP GUN "need for speed". If it were possible to merchandise it in an after-shave balm, maybe, the appropriate brand logo would be "homoerotique" with an umlaut over the "e". The cable channel commercial for the brand could feature beautiful young men, playing volleyball bare chested. Oh, my dear Lord, NO! Once again, my snide sense of humor snuk down and slid through my teeth, ah, in a manner of expression. And I wonder how (?) come I have no friends. Besides reeking, that first message from the moon to the earth also conveyed an iota of underlying braggadocio, and I'm quoting, "From now on in, whenever people on earth gaze up at the moon, they'll be gazing up at a monument to American technology, ultimately to the United States of America." Let's entertain the notion of a first message from the moon to the earth, which was redolent of frankincense and myrrh. I submit such a message would, most likely, have had as its text, and I'm quoting, "In the glory of the heavens, wherein Allah reigns supreme, His Qu'ran and our calendar are as one". Elsewhere, I've avowed that, within a narrow window of history, Islam was compelled to choose between mutually exclusive alternatives. Choosing one meant obviating the other. The narrow window of history stretched from the end of the Second World War in Europe to the United Nations' partition of Palestine. The mutually exclusive alternatives were either reach for the moon or cling to the Temple Mount. Reaching for the moon involved welcoming those Jews, who had survived the Holocaust, and were seeking a new life in Palestine. The very initiation of opposition to this migration obviated reaching for the moon. . . . maybe, I'm inserting just a tad too much concept to be absorbed on the first reading . . . to that, I say "So (?) what! . . . as I've written elsewhere . . . "my blog, my rules" . . . so, here's the possibly excessive concept . . . get ready for it . . . "ISLAM BLEW OFF A 'ONCE-IN-A-MILLENNIUM' OPPORTUNITY". Here in the beginning of the 21st century and centuries to come, Islam must bear up under two ignominies. One being, the religious observance of the Faithful relies on the timetable that's determined by the phases of a monument to American infidel technology, ultimately to the infidel United States of America. The other,which is best considered in sheer SECULAR terms, the Temple Mount has all the significance of a consolation prize. Apropos of that latter ignominy, I should like to 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. . . . ya'know, now that I think about it . . . maybe, the moon itself exudes macho TOP GUN "need for speed", and will for centuries to come . . . oh, br'dah, talk about ignominy! toodles ...../ .he who is known as sefton . . . oh, let's let the last item in the scavenger hunt with regard to the "average" Palestinian . . . Suppose one posits that my comment about the average Palestinian is true, then what? Well, for one thing, it would be a good guess that, metaphysically at least, that would bear significantly on how the parties, whom circumstances will per force assemble, should proceed in negotiating a settlement between Palestinian and Israeli. . . . oh, yeah, just to remind you, good Reader, about what I'm conjecturing about the so-called Palestinian. In spite of all the news coverage given, over the years, to such a person, the average Palestinian remains a recondite being. And yet, I go out on a limb by remarking that the average Palestinian would more readily concede Israel's right to exist than admit the failure to sieze a "once-in-a-millennium" opportunity. . . . ya'know, one might speculate about the motivation behind the attempt by that assassinated Jordian monarch to reach a rapprochement with the Jews. Maybe, he was trying to salvage as much as was possible from that once-in-a-millennium opportunity. Right now, only God has any chance to ask the man to either confirm or deny . . . rather than four, twenty-two (22) 2006-05-21T12:36:00.000-07:00 On occasion, the result of putting two and two together, rather than four, is twenty-two (22). Funny thing, I owe the above bon mot to Annie Oakley . . . well, "indirectly" I should say. Besides inspiring the Broadway musical ANNIE, GET YOUR GUN, the legend of "Little Miss Sure Shot" also provided a premise for an "oat burner". In the dawn of television, before the advent of that multi-chromatic peacock, a young and pretty woman would be shown, shooting straight and keeping the peace. In one episode, she uttered something like the above bon mot. In that same era, my journey into the dark heart of "adiaphorestic" began. It was the 50s of the last century. Primary school pupils, who attended Saint John's "(J M J+)" were being admonished to avoid entertainment that reeked of danger to "faith or morals". To graciously inform us of those movies that so reeked, the Legion of Decency published in The CATHOLIC LIGHT a list of movies, some of which were appropriate for children, some of which were permissible for adults, and some few of which were "condemned". One of the best comedies of that era THE MOON IS BLUE, starring David Niven, was condemned. . . . ya'know, now that I think about it, somebody had to view those movies to rate them . . . just who (?) the hell did . . . and just who (?) the hell appointed those people as arbitrators of decency . . . and what (?) the hell were their qualifications! . . . During a Lenten Mass, the priest complied with an order issued by the bishop of the Diocese of Scranton, and with the enthusiastic concurrence of the Legion of Decency. After the homily, the congregation was asked to stand, and swear, before the holy altar of God, to avoid such entertainment as was listed as condemned. Did I stay seated? aitch'e'double hockey sticks, no! I didn't want people, even those who disliked me, to think I was indecent. There I was on my feet with the rest of the genteel congregates with an enthusiasm for decency, swearing aloud to financially starve the coffers of those wretches, who tempt ordinary people to endanger their immortal souls with entertainment that could corrode faith or morals . . . yeah, it's an elongated sentence . . . if you dear Reader didn't get it the first time, start over at the rhetorical question. Looking back now, I can recall feeling inexplicably angry . . . dat wuz den. Nowadays, I strongly suspect I had been insulted. Not only did the Legion of Decency consider me unworthy of freedom of inquiry, but also so did the bishop of the Diocese of Scranton. For the moment, let's give the Pope a pass, okay? Even though I consider myself "adamantly adiaphorestic", I guess I'm still somewhat impacted by the education I received and the indoctrination I swallowed at the hands of the parish priests and the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Every so often, I do something totally incompatible with my adiaphorestic disposition. I muse about the grand scheme of things. I even wonder about what sort of tasks I'm supposed to accomplish to the end of advancing the grand scheme of things . . . talk about an irrational, yea, even ludicrous, waste of time! Before I regale my numerous devoted fans with a joke, I should like to intimate what may have very well inspired it. . . . Here's the first question in the Baltimore Cathecism, which I started studying in the 3rd grade . . . . . . WHO MADE YOU? . . . . . . And here's the answer . . . ta'dah! . . . GOD MADE ME . . . And now for the big follow-up: . . . WHY DID GOD MAKE YOU? . . . And the answer is, nearly intuitively obvious, . . . TO KNOW HIM, TO LOVE HIM, AND TO SERVE HIM IN THIS WORD SO AS TO BE HAPPY WITH HIM IN THE NEXT. Okay, now for the joke, Joe "nice guy" Doakes dies, and meets Saint Peter up in heaven. Mr Doakes was never a member of any religious persuasion. As a consequence, he gets his choice of what heaven, in which to spend eternity. Saint Peter leads Doakes to a golden door, which is opened to show Jewish heaven. The people are shown enjoying matzoh ball soup, and dancing the hora. Well, Doakes says it's nice, but what about the other heavens. He's led to a second golden door, which is opened to show Protestant heaven. The people are shown enjoying pot luck dinners, and donating out-of-date clothing. Again, Doakes says it's nice, and asks why won't Saint Peter open a third golden door. Saint Peter says he's not allowed to do that. That's the door to Catholic heaven. Whereupon Doakes asks, "What's the big deal with Catholic heaven?" Saint Peter looks around, as if making sure there's no eavesdroppers in the vicinity. And then he whispers, "They think they're the only ones." Until very recently, I inanely entertained the phantasm that I had done everything that was expected of me to the end of advancing the grand scheme of things. . . . eYep, I was assured of a slot in Catholic heaven . . . aaay, c'mon, I'm being facetious. And then, it happened like a bolt out of the blue, one more task was laid on my ageing shoulders. Truth be told, I'll own up to being a little, well, superstitious. As best I can, I'm tackling that task here and now. Really, I got enough bad karma coming my way already. After this, I just want to sell life insurance to the end of paying down my credit card debt. The task was sent my way, when I exercised my snide sense of humor. I thought I was twitting a certain colleague blogger with a remark about one of the ignominies, under which Islam must bear up. Elsewhere in this blog, I opined that the Temple Mount, which is held by the Muslims, has all the significance of a consolation prize. As if to rub salt onto injured pride, I even offered a challenge of sorts . . . "show me the sapsucker, who rejoices in the ownership of a consolation prize, and I'll show you one 'sorry ass' loser" . . . eYep, somewhere in my blog, dear Reader, devoted fan, you shall find my challenge. And I wonder why I don't have any friends! In case you're wondering, dear Reader, I was always snide, even when I was a practicing Catholic. For some reason, I was never approached to enlist as an altar boy. . . oh, well, their loss. Anyway, here's how I tried twitting that colleague blogger, with text somewhat like so: "Jews have got to be put out, somewhat, by my assigning the Temple Mount all the significance of a consolation prize. Ahnghgh, take comfort in guessing how Muslims must feel." The guy shoots back with something like so, and I'm quoting, "Alexander, 1. Muslims have sole possession of the Temple Mount on Moshe Dayan's own commands. 2. check out my blog. Be'tikva-In hope, Greg." . . . oh, well, interested people can check out his blog at http://hearoisrael.blogspot.com Well, I should like to repeat for the good Reader's benefit the very first sentence in this post, specifically, "On occasion, the result of bringing two and two together, rather than four, is twenty-two (22)." There just had to be a deeply underlying reason for why Dayan encountered so little protest from his coreligionists and fellow Israelis by reason of those commands. Truth be told, I get the impression that was only expected of him, as he tackled a certain task, assigned him in the grand scheme of things. To do justice in describing a certain ignominy, under which Islam must bear up, a new word is gravely needed. Not only does the Temple Mount have all the significance of a consolation prize, it is "dis-hallowed" ground, if one is permitted to coin an adjective to emphasize the state of "defiled". EPIMETHEAN COMMENT: . . . dear Reader, please take a breath or two, before diving into the follow text . . . even for me, it's a tad "hi-falutin'". Anyway, I do plan to submit a reader's letter that's in the same spirit but in a much more colloquial style to the good people at The PRESS & SUN-BULLETIN . . . ah, the letter directly follows: In no way, do I believe I'm going out on a limb with the following reading from my tea leaves. Maybe, my tea leaves are sophisticated. This reading concerns hagiographers, who are historians, who delve into the history of the writing of history. About fifty or so years from now, our hagiographers will try describing how and discerning why certain attitudes emerged from the morass, in which many histories are being written. According to my tea leaves, future hagiographers will note how certain historians, who are likely enough today graduate students, came to realize the sorry choice Islam made. In the narrow window of history, between the end of the Second World War in Europe and the United Nations' partition of Palestine, the Faith founded by the Prophet was compelled to make a choice between mutually exclusive alternatives. Choosing one meant obviating the other. Anyway, the mutually exclusive alternatives were either reach for the moon or cling to the Temple Mount. Today, it's all too obvious to even the most casual of observers, which was chosen by Islam. By command of Moshe Dayan, who orchestrated victory for Israel in the Six Day War, the Temple Mount belongs exclusively to the Muslims. It won't be long before the current academic apple cart gets upset by some brash glory hound with a newly minted doctorate in Middle East history. The academic world will be turned on its ear by the assertion that the Temple Mount has all the significance of a consolation prize. Here, let me inject my personal opinion. Show me the sapsucker, who rejoices in the ownership of a consolation prize, and I'll show you one "sorry ass" loser. As if that weren't enough ignominy for Islam to bear up under. Let me repeat,. maybe in slightly different words, what I wrote elsewhere. The text of the first message from the the moon to the earth was, and I'm quoting exactly, "The eagle has landed". Here, I'm deliberating going off on a tangent. The COLBERT REPORT, which is political sarcasm that masquerades as a fake cable channel news broadcast, opens with an eagle in flight . . . no more tangent. Now, here's the implicit message from the moon to us lowly earthlings. And I'm sure I'm on the money with this one, "From now on in, when people on earth gaze up at the moon, they will be gazing up at a monument to American technology, ultimately to the United States of America." Well, as I wrote elsewhere, the Muslims can get all sorts of wonderful amenities, after they destroy Israel. But there's no getting the moon for a monument to Islam, even if they obliterate Israel. That prospect they obliterated about sixty (60) years ago. Elsewhere, I mused about what might've followed had Islam seized a "once-in-a-millennium" opportunity. Likely enough, only God could say for sure. Maybe, instead of a Neil being the first human being to walk on the moon, it might've been a Mohammed . . . cuhd'da bin a con'ten'dah. Let's just suppose for moment, the first human being to walk on the moon had been a Mohammed. Here's what would surely have to be happening on nights, when the moon is full. The call to prayer from minarets around the world would remind the Faithful that the moon is a monument to Islam. Talk about ignominy! In this century, and likely enough for centuries to come, the religious observance of the Faith is being scheduled by the phases of a monument to American infidel technology, ultimately to the infidel United States of America. One wonders whether, in time, eagles will be accorded the same status as dogs. People can get so bitter about blowing off some piddly-little "once-in-a-millennium" opportunity. toodles ....../ .he who is known as sefton . . . people familiar with what I've written previously are likely to notice that I left out the part about the Temple Mount being defiled . . . it's not so much I'm backtracking. One should note that assertion is still being published in my blog. It's just that the people, who own that newspaper, run it like a business. Any business that upsets customers is likely to go "skint". Just so happens, the Greater Binghamton area is the residence for a large number of Muslims. Somehow, I got the impression that my "instead of Neil, Mohammed" letter drew some heat from certain of that paper's subscribers. In addition, I'm old enough to know that it's foolish to ask business people to risk damaging their enterprise. toodles ..../ .he who is known as sefton the first sefton potpourri, with five items 2006-05-08T16:34:00.000-07:00 While cruising along, I had my car filled with commentary, being broadcast by P.B. S. The people at the mic were interviewing average Palestinians to ascertain their views about their new Hams-dominated Palestinian Authority, and the financial straits thereof. One Palestinian, living in the unofficial capitol of Ramallah, allowed that Palestinians in general were enduring tough times. This particular individual expressed the hope that a deal could be negotiated with the Israelis, which would then lead to an easing of those tough times. The guy said it so casually, as if such a deal could come about in an afternoon during a couple rounds of tea. I had to suppress a chuckle that was evoked by that poor sapsucker's naïveté. Elsewhere, I've written about the comparison between how the new Hamas-dominated Palestinian Authority would find negotiating with the Israelis, and how the Palestinian Authority under Yassar found negotiating with the Israelis. Bottom line with regard to the comparison, Yassar enjoyed a piece of cake. Turns out, I was wrong. Yassar enjoyed a seven-course dinner at a five-star Parisian restaurant. When Yassar was negotiating with the Israelis, they had it somewhere in the back of their mind that he was temporizing. As soon as he had the chance to carry out the destruction of their state, so the Israelis suspected, he'd go about it with a vengeance. Well, when in the eyes of the Israelis, Yassar confirmed their worst suspicions, they went about in deadly earnest dropping the kibosh on his ambitions. Result being, when the new Hamas-dominated Palestinian Authority begins negotiating with the Israelis, the latter will presume that the former is emulating Ysssar's temporizing. an' that ain't the half of it . . . There's something else, a bugaboo firmly lodged up the average Israeli's rectal passage. Well, just so happens, it's something the average Israeli is too embarrassed to admit. Well, during a segment on some cable news channel, the Palestinian Authority, then still under Yassar, was shown tolerating the trafficking in certain illustrated cards. Kids in the States trade in baseball cards, kids over there were trading in cards that show the results of suicide bombers. For the sake of those with delicate feelings, let's skip the grisly details, flaunted on those cards that were being so gleefully traded by Palestinian children. Kids, lucky enough to accumulate a certain number of those cards, could then swap them for a bicycle. Here's the thing. Such a swap would've been impossible without ADULT sponsorship, without MAJORITY adult approval. At the very least, that's prima facie evidence for anyone, looking for evidence about . . .. Here let's slash to the cheese. Ostensibly, Palestinians then were raising their children to be GHOULS. Well, if it takes a village to raise a child, then it follows that it takes a village of ghouls to raise a ghoul. It might be possible that . . . ahnghgh, f'g'git. Here it is in all its shameful glory. The average Israeli believes, so I'm surmising, that the average Palestinian has the soul of a ghoul. Maybe, later, I'll lay out an exegesis about ... * * * the above is the first item, now here's the second one: * * * Here's one positive comment that can be justifiably attached to the presidency of George Bush fils. Maybe, the American public had to learn this lesson the hard way. Nonetheless, they are learning. The lesson being, it is foolish to expect politicians, who hate government, to govern well. * * * here's the third item * * * somebody's just going to love this third item * * * at the moment the Pentagon is referring to the troubles with so-called Muslims, bent on destroying the West, as the "Long War". Elsewhere in this blog, I believe I've vindicated the term the "gollum war". * * * . . . ta'dah! . . . the fourth item . . . for my part, I wish now I had written "might've been" rather than "could've been" . . . also for my part, even though the good people at The PRESS & SUN-BULLETIN would likely excise the following Joycean finale, I still wish I had submitted this additional text ". . . cuhd'dah bin a con'ten'dah!". oh, well, such is life and now for an elucidation of the above item - first, we need to orient ourselves with facts that impinge on astronomy, and even, believe it or not, astrology. Here's fact one. Orthodox Christianity reckons their holy days by the Julian calendar. By the way, that calendar is solar, which means it is formally determined by the sun's travel through the heavens. The Julian calendar was replaced by Latin Christianity with the Gregorian calendar, also solar. Islam, on the other hand, relies on a lunar calendar, which is determined by the phases of the moon. . . . now that we got that orientation out of the way, let's slash to the cheese. A couple decades ago, the first message sent earth from the moon was this text, and I quote, "the eagle has landed". That was the explicit message, here's the implicit message, and I quote, "From now on in, whenever people on earth gaze up at the moon, they will be gazing up at a monument to American technology, and ultimately to the United States of America." . . . rhetorical question, what's that got to do with Islam? . . . At this point, dear Reader, before continuing here, take a moment to peruse the above item. Here's what I was trying to get at. Had Islam welcomed the migration of the Jews back to the land promised their common patriarch by "he who is is", Islam would have seized a "once-in-a-millennium" opportunity. Granted, the prospect of having a Muslim being the first human being to walk on the moon was extremely slender, at best. Nonetheless, that prospect would've existed, had Islam welcomed the survivors of that European Holocaust. Unfortunately for the prospective glory of Islam, Muslims went about destroying that prospect with a vengeance. Nowadays, when our commentators deplore the consequences of Muslim attempts to destroy Israel, they pretty much confirm themselves to rather prosaic matters. Should a commentator say, and I'm quoting, "Had the Muslims welcomed the Jews, today they would have an educational system that's the envy of the world." To that, Muslims would respond, and I'm quoting, "We can get that, after we destroy Israel." Should a commentator say, and I'm quoting, "Had the Muslims welcomed the Jews, today they would be reveling in a deluge of artistic and cultural advancement." To that, Muslims would respond, and I'm quoting, "We can get that, after we destroy Israel." Should a commentator say, and I'm quoting, "Had the Muslims welcomed the Jews, today they would be so prosperous that childhood obesity might be a problem". To that, Muslims would respond, and I'm quoting, "We can get that, after we destroy Israel." Granted, after destroying Israel, Muslims can get all the above. However, there's no getting the moon as a monument to Islam, even if they somehow obliterate Israel. That prospect they obliterated about 60 (sixty) years ago.. . . . here the good Reader might like to recall this item's preceding text about astronomy and astrology and calendars. Here's the bottom line to all that, Islam must bear under two ignominies. One, the daily routine of the Faithful is regulated by the phases of a monument to American infidel technology, and ultimately to the infidel United States of America. The other, the Temple Mount has all the significance of a consolation prize. toodles ....../ .he who is known as sefton by the way, I'm indebted to the people at the other end of the below hyperlink . . . after clicking on it, please look for the post with "most intelligent" in the title . . . it's this way, because blogger.com goes bonkers, whenever I try providing the good reader with the entire u.r.l, which by the way is rather lengthy . . . http://hearoisrael.blogspot.com sefton writes spielberg alchemicly 2006-04-30T11:30:00.000-07:00 Likely enough, Steven, you're well acquainted with the hoary bromide: "hindsight is 20/20". Well, it's got some value in that it can feed speculation. Somewhere in the groves of academe, so I'm speculating, some aspiring psycho-historian is embellishing some thesis with a quote from your movie MUNICH. Maybe, the quote is being lifted from the scene, wherein a Palestinian "gollum" expresses the very human yearning for a homeland. Take my word for it, Steven, good buddy, both thought and sacrifice, both in good measure along with a soupçon of chance, went into my cribbing from a fictive myth, the name of a character, ever so decidedly deserving of revulsion and mistrust and, finally, pity . . . ahnghgh, such an elongated sentence . . . more to come . . . sorry about that. In the following paragraphs, I shall intimate what alchemy must justify such pilfering. If one's of such a mind, one may certainly call upon both theology and philosophy to posit that people as individuals can make choices, make a fatefully inescapable decision between mutually exclusive alternatives. Maybe, it's a bit of a stretch. Perhaps, one may hypothesize that religions, much like individuals, may be compelled by fate to make the occasional decision between mutually exclusive alternatives. Thanks in large measure to somewhat bizarre tutelage, with some trepidation, I present for the dear Reader's consideration the following hypothesis. In a narrow window of the world's history, circumstances forced upon Islam the choice between mutually exclusive alternatives. In the most exact terms, those mutually exclusive alternatives were either reach for the moon or cling to the site of a temple destroyed by the Romans, as they captured an ancient, even in their own time, city, holy to the three Abrahamic faiths. In as much as I am unable to resist the temptation of indulgence in literary pyrotechnics, I'm now treating my numerous devoted fans to a previously planned leisurely preface. In the original plan, this piece was intended to rejoice under the title ... ah, drum roll ... "in the darkness, bind them". I planned to start with text like so: "Between Islam and our American Pentagon, by way of fictive myth, there exists a connection. This bit of fanciful association began with televised clips of masked martyrdom aspirants in contumacious march towards murder by suicidal bombing, reveling in the cheers of their Palestinian compatriots. For my part, I sat through all of the movie trilogy, based on Tolkien's fictive myth. Anyway, the masking and clothing of the suicide bombers reminded me of ring wraiths, entities once men debased by lust for power to ignominious and murderous servitude. Elsewhere in pieces prior to this, I availed myself of the term "ghoul". Elsewhere, I justified to my own satisfaction the use of that concept to elucidate how, in one conspicuous instance, Palestinian adults went about processing their children into ghouls . . . ya'know, although LORD OF THE RINGS is only fictive myth, still, there's a hell'uva of commonality in essence between ring wraiths and ghouls. I now affirm that I honestly believe one hell'va lot of alchemy went into enabling that processing. If I may, Steven, I should like to reveal how I sometimes feel about your line of work. Directing can be compared to alchemy. In that, alchemists concerned themselves not only with the reaction of the ingredients in their mortar, but also with the alignment of the stars. In your case, you have to worry about the disposition of prospective entertainment consumers. For the big windup to delivery, I once planned to lead the dear Reader leisurely along a smooth path, as I connected Islam and our American Pentagon. Because preceding and unanticipated text has taken up so much space, I'm going with quick and dirty. According to trustworthy sources, some group or other of islamist gollums, animated doubtlessly by the dementia senilis induced by their fetish, have as their goal the debasement of the entirety of humanity through engulfment in their psychotic manifestation of an Islam for "then and there". Not only is it psychotic, according to several authoritative scholars, it's also historically inaccurate, plus hostile to the spirit of the Prophet. Just so happens, we have it on trustworthy authority that the intelligentsia, in the hire of the Pentagon, designates a certain portion of the world as "the gap" . . . really, those pointy-headed eggheads may just as well employ "the darkness" as the more heartfelt term of their ruminative art . . . ah, three guesses as to who are the denizens of that particular locale . . . first two don't count. From here, let's make a leap of speculation. Let's muse about what could have motivated the Arabs, the Palestinians especially, to combat, shortly after the end of the Second World War in Europe, the migration of Jews into the Holy Land, supposedly promised to the patriarch Abraham by God. In time, one may suppose, scholars with authoritative credentials in the history of mass psychology will produce monographs and exegeses that purport to elucidate the phenomenon. Well, according to one, most likely now deceased, insalubrious progeny of wretched canine maternity, it's all so simple. Those migrating Jews reeked with a scent that alerted Arabs to something profound. No, those were hardly the sort of the former that the latter had, for centuries, known and tolerated as neighbors, occasionally respectfully, often derisively . . . ah, yes, my chick-a-dees, this marks the beginning of that alchemy. Decades earlier, the German philosophy Friedrich "Fritz" Nietzsche remarked with wholehearted admiration the élan vital of European Jewry of his day. One might, if one were of such a mind, posit that the experience of near annihilation must surely intensify to white-hot heat just such a visceral drive. If so, then one might conjecture that the sheer preternatural wherewithal the migrating Jews brought into Palestine was awesome. Taking all that just one step further, one might reasonably surmise that they were presenting Islam with a "once-in-a-millennium" opportunity. Elsewhere, I've written about what I mused could've followed, had Islam seized that opportunity. Likely enough, I wrote, only God could say for sure. Maybe, instead of a Neil being the first human being to walk on the moon, it might've been a Mohammed . . . cuhd'ah bin a con'tend'ah!. Instead of accepting like manna from heaven those bearers of that preternatural wherewithal so necessary for an ascent to greatness, the Palestinians undertook the project of driving the Jews into the sea. That project forced the Israelis to thwart through bloodshed or vulpine guile, or both, various attempts to annihilate their state or engulf their children. And all the foregoing back and forth did wonders for the alchemy that eventually produced the gollum multitude, so marvelously represented by that Palestinian in that movie. . . . oh, by the bye, it's an axiom of Newtonian physics that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Well, taking that axiom as a clue to what may lie within the human heart, one may reasonably infer that the average Israeli would prefer passing on the question whether the average Palestinian has the soul of a gollum. Quite likely, the average Israeli would be too embarrassed to answer in the affirmative, too self-respecting to answer in the negative. From a recent event in India, one finds a hint to what, deep down inside, could've motivated the Palestinians. For a few centuries, a mosque stood on the site the mass of Hindus considered sanctified by the birth of one of their deities. It must be those Hindus resented very much the existence of that mosque, because a swarm of them demolished that mosque. According to that, now most likely deceased, insalubrious male progeny of wretched canine maternity . . . at least, from what I glean from the bits and pieces of my encounters with Avram Beilitzsyn, I mean I can recall clearly enough to fashion into a whole . . . deep down inside, Palestinians as Muslims suspect that Jews resent the formers' appropriation of the Temple Mount, which was done without so much as a "by your leave" asked of the latter. Likely enough, for all the former may conjecture with trepidation, the latter migrated to the allegedly promised land with an eye towards reclaiming the Temple Mount. . . . . DID IT HAVE TO BE THAT WAY? . . . So far as I'm concerned, I have neither the credentials nor the temper for such speculation. Elsewhere, I've written that I am adamantly adiaphorestic. I go so far as to compare theological argument to arguing about how many match sticks are in a matchbox that nobody has, whereabouts unknown, the very existence of which nobody can, with any certainty, confirm. In spite of all that, I am so lonely that, for the sake of simple conversation with other human beings, I'll . . . OCCASIONALLY . . . tolerate speculation that involves ethereal matters. In his STEPPING STONES, the author tried to alert the world to the preternatural wherewithal the survivors of the coming Holocaust would be bringing to their promised land. Upon being welcomed as siblings through the patriarch Abraham, the Jews would go about expending their internal treasure in wonders that would rival . . . heck, maybe, even dwarf . . . the pyramids. Likely enough, as I've written earlier in this piece, only God could say for sure. Maybe, instead of a Neil being the first human being to walk on the moon, it might've been a Mohammed . . . cuhd'ah bin a contend'ah. In return for that, Islam would allow the Jews to reclaim peaceably their Temple Mount. In spite of my being adiaphorestic, this I know all too damn well. For such to occur, the general run of humanity would necessarily have ascended to a far more elevated plateau of spirit. Quite candidly, I profoundly doubt such an ascension should even be attempted . . . just ain't feasible. Trying to elevate the general run of humanity to such a plateau, in my considered opinion, would be like trying to set up a do-it-yourself koi pond on the summit of Mount Everest. Quite frankly, one would be doing the general run of humanity dirt by even pining aloud for such an ascension. On the obverse of the coin, only gollums could expect the general run of humanity to cheerfully accept being bound in the darkness of the sort Tolkien intimated. . . . oh, one final tidbit . . . elsewhere I wrote about how historians might compare the pair of negotiations undertaken between the Israelis and successive Palestinian authorities. In comparison with the negotiations, which circumstances will, sooner or later, compel whatever empowered Palestinian authorities to undertake, those negotiations undertaken by their predecessors were a piece of cake. Turns out, I was wrong. Those predecessors enjoyed a seven-course meal at a five-star Parisian restaurant. And this was for a very simple reason. Circumstances allowed them to keep the Temple Mount off the table. toodles ...../ .he who is known as sefton well, I gotta add a correction of sorts ... I was told by a colleague blogger that the Temple Mount belongs exclusively to the Muslims by the order of Mosche Dayan . . . oh, alright (!) already, so it's a very discourteous comment . . . still, in as much as I describe myself as "adamantly adiaphorestic", it behooves me to affirm the essence of what I've written elsewhere with the following compound sentence, which is in quotes . . . "show me that sapsucker who rejoices in the ownership of a consolation prize, and I'll show you one 'sorry ass' loser" . . . oh, yeah, please be sure to look for "Greg", which is the hyperlink to that colleague's blog, in the fourth comment down . . . mope approaching heroic 2006-04-25T15:46:00.000-07:00 If we were of such a mind . . . "we"is meant as a polite nod . . ., Jimmy's soul could be evaluated with a scale that stretches from "mope" to "hero". Occasionally, I patronize the Depot restaurant on Susquehanna Depot's secondary main drag. By the bye, their corn chowder approaches "to die for". Sometimes, while I tend to a peckish pang or two, I espy a small man shambling about, clearing just relinquished tables. Out of the way, unoccupied, Jimmy's red mechanized wheelchair is seen. . . . ah, just as an aside among you and me and the gorpe, who's peeking over your shoulder, I reckon Jimmy gets a little tense, whenever curious small children pole around his mode of personal conveyance. In any case, it takes little thought to infer that he relies for support and mobility on the cart, into which he piles soiled dishware. In or out of his wheelchair, little of his appearance is, well, remarkable. Whenever he stands unaided on his feet, however briefly, his height comes under five foot. He's so scrawny as to seem vulnerable to a sudden gush of wind. As if God decided Jimmy could stand living with another handicap, he wears spectacles. As if our postprandial restoration technician decided he should shorten his stay on earth, he smokes. For no particular reason, it's easy to doubt Jimmy can afford more than a pack a day. And for no particular reason, I find myself wondering how Jimmy would describe himself. I surmise he would sneer at "physically challenged". Here in deep Susquehanna County, menfolk refer to implements for terrestrial excavation as shovels . . . "spades" does duty for African Americans. Likely enough, Jimmy would accept "crippled", could tolerate "handicapped". No disrespect meant, but I surmise "incapacitated" would send him to Funk & Wagnalls. At the beginning of this little essay, I mentioned a scale that stretches from "mope" to "hero". As likely as Jimmy is to sneer at "physically challenged", he would be even more likely to sneer at "heroic". Truth be told, I would consider his being so disposed as a point to the good, with regard to "authenticity". It's no wonder that he'd comport himself that way. Deep down inside, he believes he's just one more guy, doing his best to make his way in the world. And that's not all that's in his favor. Somewhere, within his being, there exists a grain of good sense. From what I can tell, our man came to a few sensible decisions. One being, he would eschew fighting his incapacity. Here's what I mean. If he felt like it, he could utilize his metal crutches in getting from point A to point B. Sometimes, doing so would take only several minutes . . . other times, an hour and more. Whenever it would take an hour or more by his crutches, Jimmy gets into his mechanized wheelchair, and gets where he has to be in under fifteen minutes. Instead of fighting his incapacity, Jimmy lives with same. And so far as I'm concerned, his compliance with that grain of good sense merits a salute. toodles ..../ .he who is known as sefton note to Press & Sun-Bulletin in "Greater Binghamton" 2006-04-23T12:57:00.000-07:00 Talk about stupidity! In this instance, it plummets below flabbergasting, and into bone-freezing. Some Central Intelligence Agency employee got recently fired for cause of "leaking" to our national media the existence of that agency's "gulag". oh, br'dah, as if that terminated employee were the solely possible source for a leak . . . . For some time now, the C I A has, overseas, been clandestinely seizing people, with alleged connections to terrorist organizations. Those people are then, clandestinely, spirited away to clandestine prisons, and held stringently incommunicado, in fact, even denied access to legal representation. One gets the impression that those, who manage the agency, must believe that those so imprisoned, somehow, beamed down from Mars, about five minutes being taken into custody. Well, that's hardly the case. For the moment, let's put aside the allegations that those unfortunates have connections to this or that terrorist organization. For the moment, let's consider far more likely circumstances. Thanks to their being human, those people held in clandestine incarceration have family such as spouses, siblings, , children, parents . . . cousins, even. And those later people have got to be wondering what could've happened to those so mysteriously vanished. Again, for the moment, let's put aside the allegations of connection to this or that terrorist organization. It's a good bet, some of those family members contacted their local bureau for missing persons. In short order, those people complied with regulations, and filed reports, listing such items as name and description of missing person, plus place last seen. Well, there's one source, if not dozens of such, for a "leak" about vanished people with alleged connections to terrorist organizations. Ah, yes, let's consider the people, who are employed by the Central Intelligence Agency to manage and maintain those prisons. Well, somebody has to prepare the food that's consumed by those clandestinely imprisoned. Somebody has to enter those prisons to perform the duties of custodial technician. And let's keep in mind that somebody has to guard the prisoners to ensure continued incarceration. Funny thing about people, they talk. And they talk. And they talk. I mean the average kitchen colander's got fewer leaks. And the word gets around. My five doughnuts to somebody's three, the average Mongolian yak skinner heard about the American gulag a year . . . at least . . . before the good people at FOX so-called NEWS. The wonder is not so much that the leaks finally reached the American media. The wonder is that it took so long. toodles ....../ .he who is known as sefton rehabilitation of and by and for the right wing 2006-04-23T12:16:00.000-07:00 Lemme say this up front. For the past seventy (70) years, the right wing has been trying to rehabilitate one-term President Herbert Hoover. Dear Reader, think (?) I'm pulling your leg, jerking your chain, joshing, maybe ticking the little man in the boat! Nothing could be further from the truth. With your permission, I shall now adduce one salient fact for corroboration, specifically, the HOOVER INSTITUTE. If I so desired, I could tick off the names of several other such entities that are deliberately modeled after the aforementioned. And there are a couple other clues that illustrate this tendency of the right wing to rehabilitate their fallen champions. One such being, the frequent appearance of former House Majority Leader Newt Gingrich on the FOX cable so-called news channel. Over the years, this project has comprised some pretty strange subsidiary efforts. I reckon that, among the most outlandish, has been incessantly spoon-feeding the American public the canard that "it makes no difference who's president of the United States". No doubt about it, the right wing was awesomely successful in getting the American public to swallow that poppycock hook, line and sinker. By the way, I'm not indulging in hyperbole with that "awesomely". During the presidential election just previous to the last, the presidential candidate for the Green Party justified his campaigning in certain critical states, by blithely parroting that equivalent to some punch line for a markedly putrid specimen of defecatory humor.. One of the ultimate results of that numbskull's buffoonery being, the ground for any sort of third party will be poisoned for the next forty (40) years . . . at least. eYep, it's gotta obvious . . . the author of UNSAFE AT ANY SPEED ain't no hero of mine. oh, yeah, we shouldn't overlook another strange subsidiary effort, which among several others, constitute the right wing's project to rehabilitate Hoover. For the past 70 odd years, the right wing has been intensely supporting the peddling of domestic economic policy that made Hoover a one-time president. One prime example being, the AMERICAN ENTERPRISE INSTITUTE. Talk about wacko! If that policy failed to win a second term for Hoover, what (?) on earth makes the right wing think that relentlessly peddling that policy will, somehow, rehabilitate his presidency. Quite frankly, I think the right wing has been doing Hoover dirt. Instead of trying to rehabilitate Hoover the president, the right wing would've done far better by the man and the country through commemorating Hoover the engineer. As engineer, he enhanced the country's economy by promoting the standardization of measurements in use by plumbers, and other tradesmen. One might presume I'll soon animadvert to current events. However, I'm not in the mood. I'd rather continue with my musing about the right wing's obsession to rehabilitate the Hoover administration. In several instances, it was hilarious about how the right wing through the years went about that endeavour. For example, during the Eisenhower administration, the Finance Reconstruction Corporation was abolished, with its assets and responsibilities transferred to other government agencies. Several right wing pundits and even a few members of the Eisenhower administration welcomed this development as erasing that "socialist" experiment, foisted upon God-fearing Americans by the administration of "F D R". Funniest thing, the Finance Reconstruction Corporation had been set up during the Hoover administration, the object being salvaging banks and ONLY banks. During the succeeding administration, it proved very useful in the recovery of the national economy. In THAT instance, the object was salvaging PEOPLE. What's more, it continued to be so useful, in that way, that the Truman administration retained the agency. Wood'jah (?) buh-leave! There's a connection between General and later President Eisenhower to Emmett Till. Who's Emmett Till? Well, I just googled that name, and discovered that the Public Broadcasting System once aired a program titled, THE MURDER OF EMMETT TILL. Here let's slash to the cheese. Photos of that African American adolescent in his coffin were grisly enough to fill that racial powder keg, whose fuse was it by some middle-aged seamstress with tired feet. At one point, President Eisenhower ordered 101st Airborne Division paratroopers to facilitate, as ordered by the Supreme Court of the United States, the desegregation of a high school in the capitol of Arkansas. Just about anybody, who regards that president as a hero, would sing his praises for forestalling anarchy. And yet, I wonder. In the uproar that was ignited by those photos of Emmett, one or two embarrassing matters came to light. For several years, his mother had been receiving monetary payments from the federal government, by reason of her husband's death during the Second World War. During that time, she was led to believe that his death had been somehow related to combat in Europe. Instead, his death had been ordered by court martial . . . under questionable circumstances. What's more, there were quite a few other executions of African American soldiers, likewise ordered by court martial, likewise under questionable circumstances. Maybe, the commander of American forces in Europe was unaware of those questionable circumstances. Maybe, the general, who later succeeded Truman as president of the United States, was not. By the bye, somebody is supposed to working on a book about those executions . . . should make for interesting reading. oh, well, conscience doth make cowards of even our most illustrious . . . . oh, well, we have it on the word of President Abraham Lincoln that execution is the worst use that can be made of a soldier. What (?) about that refuge for left-wing kooks, flaming liberals and "gay marriage" freaks, in other words, the Democratic Party. By way of metaphor, I would say they've been trying for the past sixty (60) years to conduct a mass seance, in an attempt to channel "F D R". Here's a nice clue. When Senator John Fitzgerald Kennedy was campaigning in 1960 for president, just about all of his campaign literature was emblazoned with "J F K". No doubt, that was a deliberate effort to appeal to older voters, who fondly remembered that late president, who had guided the country through depression and world war. Quite in contrast to the HOOVER INSTITUTE at Stanford University in California, there's the KENNEDY SCHOOL OF GOVERNMENT at Harvard University in Massachusetts. DID I FLY OFF ON A TANGENT?! oh, well, I did. Somehow, in their effort to rehabilitate a years-dead one-term president, our right wing installed a nincompoop in the White House. And the amount of national treasure that will be required to repair the consequent damage is going to be humongous, no doubt. In a way, the right wing succeeded, by way of the negative, in the rehabilitation of one-term President Herbert Hoover . . . at least, among our future historians. It's a reasonable bet that a few will write something, perhaps in more formal prose, something like so: . . . "ya'know, compared to the 'dum'ass botch', who misled the nation into an unnecessary war, the guy F D R evicted from the White House actually approached, as president, mediocrity . . . darn, if only his skills at engineering could've been applied to governance" . . . EPIMETHEAN APPEAL TO WHATEVER PROVIDENCE ACTS ON APPEALS somewhere within my adiaphorestic being, some part of me is quivering with urgent desire to broadcast from one end of the universe to the other . . . : . . . "please, oh, please, spare us and our posterity from any attempt by the right wing to rehabilitate that 'dum'ass botch'" . . . toodles ...../ .he who is known as sefton EPIMETHEAN COMMENT (added the evening of 2006/05/02) First off, I should like to acknowledge that I try to catch both The DAILY SHOW with Joh Stewart and The COLBERT REPORT, which are staples on the COMEDY cable channel. In fact, they're the primary reason for my buying a D V D recorder. I guess which broadcast I favor depends mostly on my mood. At the recent Washington Correspondents' Dinner, master comedian Stephen Colbert performed magnificently. With the rapier of wit and the mace of truth, he respectively skewered and censured the presidency of "dum'ass botch". Talk about wonderful lagniappe! Mr Colbert made that nincompoop's lap dogs in our national conventional media run for cover with their tail between their legs. And that's not all our man accomplished. Tucked away in his address to the dinner's flabbergasted attendees, like a ticking time bomb, there was an "easter egg", which we had absolutely . . . here "we" is a polite nod . . . NO right to expect. Like the Easter Bunny in a mischievous mood, Mr Colbert camouflaged a bon mot, so profound as to approach philosophical. oh, before I reveal Mr Colbert's casual accomplishment, I should like to preface with a caveat. The appropriate interpretation of that remark requires sagacity and rectitude and certitude . . . and now, tah dah! . . . here's the remark: *REALITY HAS A LIBERAL BIAS* bullets, whiskey, women's tears, Palestinians 2006-04-08T14:36:00.000-07:00 "Women's tears have killed more men than bullets or whiskey." From what western oeuvre that quote is drawn from, I've forgotten. However, I do remember its being uttered with disgust with a dash of regret, sure to follow complying with such motivation. For the sake of civil discussion, I'll allow there's at least one grain of truth in that comment. For my part, I take a somewhat more expansive view of motivation that gets people killed for no good reason. From out of nowhere, like a bolt out of the blue, like compulsory divine revelation, it came to me. However many have died, due to being moved by women's tears, that number is dwarfed by that of those, killed by asinine expectation . . . oh, yeah, dear Reader, you read it right . . . "asinine expectation". Lean a little closer to your monitor screen. This is strictly between you and me . . . oh, yeah, likely enough, we should also take into account that pinhead, who's peeping over your shoulder. Eventually, so I'm promising you and peeper, we'll get to the crux of this post. For now, I would like to relate the sad case of a young woman, who on a dare dove headfirst into a swimming hole of some sort. While in the local Intensive Care Unit, she discovered she was paralyzed from the shoulders on down. Whatever was available in state-of-the-art medicine and physical therapy, she was afforded. For quite a while, she underwent the best regime for physical rehabilitation. One day, a weary nurse took hold of both of the unfortunate's hands and lifted them. "It's hopeless". Customarily, nurses are supposed to eschew pessimism. For the woman, who would spend the rest of her earthly days as a quadriplegic, it was liberation. She had been cut loose from asinine expectation. What physical capacity she had left, she turned to art. Subsequently, I received by snail mail a packet of greeting cards. Each card was decorated with a design she had created . . . cute little woodland creatures, and other such. Holding a brush in her mouth, she had moved her head, up and down, side to side, and daubed away. True enough, her creations fell far short . . . oh, alright (!) already, Ziggy had nothing to worry about. And yet, somehow, the provenance of her art was touching. And now, get ready for a rhetorical question. "What does asinine expectation have to do with Palestinians?" I say plenty. I'll say it plain. Time and time again, they've allowed themselves to be taken in charlatans, peddling asinine expectation. Their latest folly was their yielding what little sovereignty they had to "bedbugs", masquerading as political liberators. Supposedly, the more rational and better and more sensitive folk among those bedbugs would like nothing more than a state, in which Muslims and Jews and Christians would live together and work together, harmoniously, prosperously. What a coincidence! Somewhere in this blog, I mention one Avram Beilitzsyn, a Jew, who could read the Old Testament in the original Hebrew, the New Testament in the original koinonia Greek, and the Koran in the original classical Arabic. Just such an aforementioned state was his dream. So confident was he that it would arise, he predicted it in STEPPING STONES. As I remember the text, Avram's "Shaloam" resembles more closely an ideal Islamic state than an ideal Jewish state, and more closely an ideal Jewish state than an ideal Christian state. He sank a truckload of money into having copies printed. With the outbreak of the Second World War just a few years away, he sank another truckload of money into setting up promotion and distribution. And then it happened. To safeguard good ol' American decency, agents of the United States Postal Service burned all the copies they could lay hands on. And yet, he had hope that his state could still emerge. He was sure Islam would never pass up a "once-in-a-millennium" opportunity. If Avram is to be given some credence, the opportunity did exist for only a brief period between the end of the Second World War in Europe and the United Nations' partition of Palestine. Here's what made him so sure. Thanks to Public Broadcasting Systems, most of the public is aware of how Mohamed won over the people of Mecca, after their defeat by his Faithful to end a brutal war. Instead of slaughtering his defeated enemies, which was the custom at the time in Arabia, he secured his status as Prophet by ordering the smashing of their idols. Here's where Avram clued me into something that gets ignored by the vast majority of scholars, who specialize in Islamic history. At the time, Mecca contained Arab Christians and Arab Jews. Somewhere in the Koran, the Prophet urges the Faithful to have good relations with Christians and Jews. So, Avram was positive the Prophet ordered his Faithful warriors to leave standing churches and synagogues. I guess one Muslim adage, in particular, impressed Avram . . . "those who ask Allah for nothing insult the Deity". Speaking for myself, I don't think I could be accused of insulting the Deity. Whenever I buy a Powerball ticket with Powerplay, I'm sure that, somewhere within my adiaphorestic being, some part of me is praying for winning numbers. For the heck of it, let's take that adage just a little further by way of inference. If God gets insulted by those who ask the Deity for nothing, then the Deity must get royally roiled by those, who slight the unrequested gifts given by the Deity in the spirit of generosity. Maybe, Avram was right. Between the end of the Second World War in Europe and the United Nations' partition of Palestine, his "Shaloam" was a possibility.. Seems like irony now. when Islam blew off that aforementioned opportunity, that expectation that the bedbugs have just recently successfully peddled to the majority of Palestinians.seemed reasonable. By the way, the first attempt to realize that expectation failed. In doing their best to keep that expectation alive, the Palestinians helped land the commander-in-chief of the Egyptian military in some pretty awful circumstances. Hoping for a miracle to salvage victory, the man threw Arab unity out the window. As the Israelis were making hamburger, kosher, of course, of his military, he lied through his teeth to the monarch of Jordan. Get in on this glorious Arab victory, so the monarch was urged, attack the Israelis. That attack was repulsed, and the Israelis had their excuse for seizing more Arab land. No doubt about hindsight is 20/20. The monarch should've been told the truth. What's more, the man who lied to him should've comported himself as the exemplar of Arab unity. In truth, instead of urging the Jordanian monarch to attack, that person should've counselled avoiding military conflict with the Israelis. Knowing the truth, the monarch would've known to keep out of the Six Day War. In that way, he would've deprived the Israelis of an excuse to seize Jerusalem and the West Bank. After the failure of the third attempt, in the words of Nixon's Secretary of State, Henry Kissinger, "without Egypt, war is impossible." Evidently, the Israelis are willing to live in interminable war with Syria.. The head bedbug now in charge of the Palestinian polity reminds me of the character that Kevin Kline portrays in the movie A FISH CALLED WANDA . . . "Don't call me stupid!" That bedbug failed miserably to do his constituents any big favors by offering the Israelis ten years of truce in exchange for the land, "stolen" during the Six Day War. Here's the thing about the "eternal people". Their history stretches back to the pharaohs. That conditions them to have long memories. Once already, so they remember, they came to agreements with the Palestinian leadership. If the intent on the Palestinian side had been pure, that would've meant exorcising that asinine expectation. Likely enough, many Israelis felt that the Palestinian leadership at the time avoided undergoing the required change of heart. What's more, many Israelis suspected the sole purpose of those agreements was temporizing. When sufficient evidence that those suspicions were valid had been adduced, the Israelis came down on the Palestinian signatory to those agreements like a ton of bricks Circumstances, so the Israelis now believe, compelled the predecessor of the new head bedbug in charge to the negotiating table. Likely enough, the Israelis are speculating that circumstances will eventually compel the successor to the negotiating table. Whoever will negotiate for the Palestinians is in for a rude awakening. By comparison, their predecessors enjoyed a piece of cake. No doubt about it, the people at the other end of the table will be extremely wary, and will have no humor about temporizing. toodles ....../ .he who is known as sefton serious litmus test 4 lou dobbs 2006-04-08T10:35:00.000-07:00 With this post, I hope to expand on the post that's located just below this one. First off, I realize now that I should've animadverted to consequences that may well flow from rescinding the citizenship of "anchor babies". Let's suppose numerous such children, especially those now in their teen years, are deported, along with their parents, to their country of origin, say, Mexico. In that case, we should prepare ourselves for some "future shock". When those deported anchor babies reach adulthood, they may, very likely, make Fidel's Cuban revolution feel like, in terms of "REALPOLITIK", a paper cut. Not too long ago, our government under both President Eisenhower and his successor J.F.K expended much time and effort to engineer Fidel's overthrow. Nowadays, our college students find it difficult to believe that had to lead up to both this country and Russia avoiding "nuclear winter" by a whisker. That said, I should now like to animadvert to protocol that, I am sure, shall do much to extirpate the incentive for aliens to enter this country as illegal immigrants. Before I reveal the protocol, I believe it behooves me to impart to you, dear Reader, a heads up. If this country adopts this protocol and then zealously implements same, howls will be raised by organizations, whose raison d'être is the civil rights and liberty of humanity. . . . let's put it this way, if you think these United States of America is a world-class pariah, because of the hard-to-justify invasion and occupation of Iraq, br'dah, you ain't seen n't'n yet. Here's half of the genesis for the protocol I have in mind. Social Services in the District of Columbia was being over-whelmed by the number of children, being born out of wedlock to women, who were already receiving welfare payments. To stem the tide, a requirement was imposed upon those women, if they wanted to continue receiving welfare payments. They had to subject themselves to the hypodermic implantation of a capsule. Once implanted, the capsule would then dispense, over the following six months or so, a fluid that would forestall the attachment of a fertilized egg inside the uterus. No, it doesn't take that much sagacity to suppose that requirement was dropped in a hurry. Now for the succeeding half, that came by way of a 24-hour-news cable channel. For both convenience and enhancement of access security, a couple techs underwent . . . allegedly VOLUNTARILY . . . a procedure, which is similar to that mentioned in a preceding paragraph. In this latter case, no contraceptive fluid is dispensed. Instead, the capsule in question broadcasts identifying data, when stimulated by a certain radio frequency. When the appropriate module receives the relevant identifying data, access is granted to the tech, so identified. It's a good bet that some of my more sagacious readers are already inferring the destination for this train of thought. Let me begin by asserting that these United States of America is a nation that is governed by law, rather than by human caprice. To the extent that is true, some sort of judicial determination is necessarily involved. First, there must be judicial determination that a person, in custody, is indeed an illegal alien, who is either residing or working illegally in this country. Provided that no other charge can be levelled against that person, the relevant authority should begin deportation. Okay, here's the pay-off. Prior to being sent back to country of origin, the person being deported undergoes implantation of a capsule that is similar to the one, mentioned in a preceding paragraph. Besides identifying data, the capsule in question broadcasts personal history, relating to deportation. True enough, once back in country of origin, it would be possible to remove that capsule. However, I surmise our anatomists can recommend surgical procedures that can readily implant the capsule, in a such a way that removal would require major surgery. Over time, after the adoption of that protocol, it would become very easy for law enforcement, with the use of proper equipment, to "finger" people, who were previously deported. . . . call it "idle speculation, if one must . . . still, I can envision certain fines being levied upon those, who employ previously deported illegal aliens. In this case, the fines might used to defray the national debt. oh, yeah, I'd better put all my cards on the table, in as much as I'd like the voters in this Commonwealth's Tenth Congressional District to consider voting for me. If elected to Congress, no and no again, I shall not introduce any bill that institutes the protocol. And I will refrain from doing so for very good cause. Truth be told, I am not foolhardy enough. The time for my doing anything like that was back at Penn State, when I started having doubts about the war in Vietnam. . . . that reminds me . . . truth be told, I wouldn't mind the appearance of photos that show me at the head of a protest parade in Portland (OR). Anyway, the way I understand the constraints within my circumstances, should I win election to the House of Representatives, I would be restricted to defending myself against verbal assaults by grievously offended talk radio magpies. To all that, I say "Binghamton Fire Department" . . . bring'em on! toodles ......./ .he who is known as sefton epimethean comment - visitors, who'd like to call attention of others to this post via e.mail, need only click on the envelope icon below. that'll bring up a page for facilitating sending that e.mail. bloggers, if they so wish, may insert the hyperlink to this post in one of their own posts. oh, well, one may as well be hanged for a wolf as for a sheep . . . so, lemme cause the delicate souls amongst us to toss and turn, while in thrall to bad dreams. I shall now pose a horrible question . . . ah, after a little preparation. During the Second World War, the German military put up one hell'uva fight. Despite all that effort required to conquer Europe and battle Russia, the Germans could still murder some six million (6,000,000) Jews plus millions of other victims such as Gypsies, homosexuals . . . and the list goes on. By comparison, the United States has a much smaller task, with regard to stiffling islamic "bedbugs". Okay, now for the horrible question. If the Germans could murder six million Jews, why (?) should the Americans be incapable of deporting some eleven million (11,000,000) illegal immigrants! litmus test 4 lou dobbs 2006-03-28T13:15:00.000-08:00 Just to confirm the conscientious reader's conjecture, I hereby acknowledge that the genesis for my idea was provided by a guest on Lou Dobbs' cable.channel broadcast. As best as I can recall, the guest neatly concentrated her message with the acronym "CRAG". Forgetful me, only "Rescind" represented by the "R" stuck in my mind. In this case, she had in mind rescinding the American citizenship of so-called "anchor babies". From what I can tell, the way our Constitution is currently interpreted, if a child is born on our territory to illegal immigrants, then that infant becomes, automatically, an American citizen. By the bye, that's how Sidney Poitier, the offspring of Bahamian parents, got his citizenship. A bunch of years later, he won an Academy Award for his portrayal of a compassionate carpenter in LILLIES OF THE FIELD . . . back to the main post. Please, dear Reader, try to understand. Constitutional lawyer, I ain't. Despite the novel THE MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY, sending an American citizen into exile is patently unconstitutional. Deportation of an anchor baby's parents, who happen to be illegal immigrants and choose to take their child with them, would mean exiling an American citizen. And so, circumstances allow the "illegal immigrant" parents of an anchor baby to avoid deportation. In the final analysis, shouldn't (?) American children, whatever the legal status of their parents, be allowed to remain in the loving care of their parents. In as much as Americans honor "family values", the best way out of this "fine kettle of fish" seems to involve rescindment of an innocent infant's American citizenship. Once that child's citizenship is rescinded, that child is no longer an American citizen, and is therefore subject to deportation as any other illegal immigrant, including the child's parents. Getting back to forgetful me, I conjecture that "R" stuck in my mind for a simple reason. Were all three branches of our government to execute in reality the meaning of that "R", the impact would dwarf the combined impact of execution of the "C" and "A" and "G". Perhaps, dear Reader, you recently tuned into this or that cable news channel, and thereby observed clips, showing demonstrations by thousands upon thousands. The people in those demonstrations were protesting the on-going deliberations by our American Congress with regard to laws that regulate immigration. For my part, I infer they have good cause for protesting. They probably suspect that merely enforcing immigration laws, already on the books, might mean dire consequences for themselves, or their significant others. Also for my part, I'm now wondering just how many of those demonstrators are "anchor babies" . . . ah, grown, of course. But, nonetheless, their being born in this country allowed their illegal immigrant parents to avoid deportation. Lest I disappoint my numerous devoted fans by continuing with this oblique approach to the crux of the matter, I shall now remind the good reader of this post's title, expressly, "litmus test 4 lou dobbs". . . . ah, yes, my little chick-a-dees, lem'me'tel'ya true. Unless your friendly regionally oriented legislator is addressing the matter of rescinding the American citizenship of "anchor babies", that legislator is blowing smoke up your hindquarters, if not your rectal orifice. And that's what I mean by "litmus test". gotta'admit . . . were it not for Lou Dobbs having the lady with her "CRAG" acronym on his cable.channel broadcast, I doubt I would've heard of "anchor babies". ya'know . . . with that I'm addressing my rather more discerning readers . . . devising a fair-minded, plus consistent with conventional family values, protocol for dealing with anchor babies and their illegal immigrant parents will bear only the thinnest resemblance to child's play. Let's consider those thousands of high school students in the aforementioned demonstrations. What sort of "cut-off" date should be set for the birthday of anchor babies? Should (?) those born before a certain date be allowed to retain their American citizenship. Whereas, those born after a certain date are to have theirs rescinded? Let's suppose all three branches of our government go along with such a law. I can easily imagine a situation, wherein an anchor baby retains citizenship but a sibling born later loses same. What are the parents, who are illegal immigrants, to do? For my part, if ever the opportunity comes my way, I shall ask my friendly regionally oriented legislators for their individual opinions on what is to be done with "anchor babies". If all I get is obfuscatory smoke, then I'll know that the relevant sapsuckers are only jacking off about illegal immigration. aaaay, truth be told, I reckon the best I should expect from any friendly regional legislator is a candid acknowledgment that dealing with anchor babies is fraught with sickening complications. And I suppose the best a reasonable person should expect, by way of a promise to attend to the matter, is initiation of discussion. again, lem'me'tel'ya true, if your friendly regionally oriented legislator was elected on a platform that emphasized "family values", that will not be an easy promise to make, let alone keep. toodles ......./ .he who is known as sefton my best shot at ==> 2006-03-28T13:09:00.000-08:00 ==> philosophy . . . ta dah! . . . . . . . . The HEXASOPHE . . . . . . . . . 01 - courage of imagination is primal being. 02 - intensity of belief alone fails to guarantee truth of belief. 03 - reality is the future, and the future is reality. 04 - absolute logicality saps humanity. 05 - ascribing to dasein any purpose, however ostensibly noble, may NOT be degradation most vile. 06 - consciousness is its own ideality. As for the word in italics, it is German vernacular for human existence. By employing that word, I hope I'm paying homage to Martin "Marty" Heidegger. The first hexasophe should make it all too obvious to any philosophy grad student that I regard Friedrich "Fritz" Nietzsche as a significant event in the history of humanity. As for the word in all caps, I figure it's a reasonable compromise with people, who ascribe as much weight to faith as to empiricality. Coming up with a quick and dirty elucidation of the last hexasophe is just a tad beyond me. Likely enough, the average philosophy grad student would arrive at a very reasonable inference about HEGEL'S CONCEPT OF EXPERIENCE. Much farther down in this blog . . . in fact, the very first post . . . one finds The CORLEONE MANIFESTO. Some people, who do earnestly concern themselves with speculative thought, might assume that the MANIFESTO preceded the HEXASOPHE. Nothing could be further from the truth. It's the other way round. toodles ......./ .he who is known as sefton what (?) makes muslims unworthy! 2006-03-28T13:00:00.000-08:00 According to the latest news, via www.google.com, the man, who converted from Islam to Christianity, has been freed from an Afghan prison. It's a good bet that, however well hidden Mr Abdul Rahman may be, he's in fear of his life. This case might inspire some speculation on the part of our domestic pundits. But I doubt it will. Anyway, let's suppose the muslim apostate turned christian had, instead, been, say, a jain adnate. As the average encyclopedia describes jains, their way of spirituality is an off-shoot of the hindu persuasion. And then, this jain in question, Mr Rahman I mean, converted to, say, shinto, which happens to be Japan's indigenous religion, of sorts. In the case just posited, the Afghan authorities, who jailed Mr Rahman for switching from Islam to Christianity, would have had no problem with his switching from jain to shinto. It might be tough to get the point across to the authorities, who jailed or countenanced jailing Rahman. Incidentally, some purely religious authorities went so far as to call for his decapitation. Still, even if it fails to persuade those authorities, either purely religious or supposedly secular, rational argumentation leads to the conclusion that non-muslims are permitted freedom of conscience. In contradistinction, under the supposedly secular law that prescribes death for those adnates who dessert Islam, Muslims are forbidden freedom of conscience. For the sake of time and space, let us, dear Reader, you and I, make a leap in rationale. Evidently, non-muslims, also known as "jiarours", are worthy enough to enjoy freedom of conscience. With just an additional small step forward, we come to this question, specifically: How (?) come, in the eyes of Allah, Muslims are condemned as unworthy of freedom of conscience! toodles ....../ .he who is known as sefton TALK ABOUT WUSS! wood'ja (?) buh-leave! For a while there, I persuaded myself that I should revise the text in green. After pondering whether it was unjustifiably incendiary . . . maybe, even, well, calumnious . . . I decided in the affirmative. And then, it happened. While driving to an internet terminal at Binghamton University, I had the radio tuned to the news. Via dulcet tones, I learned that the Afghan parlimanent ernestly expressed the sentiment that the persecution of Rahman should continue . . . that pushed me over the edge. The more incendiary, I decided, the better. In this matter, calumny would require a minor miracle. want (?) your customers to love you! adopt Universe and "Dez" 2006-03-27T16:36:00.000-08:00 Let's start with a romantic take on why Universe wears those rosy sunglasses. Turns out, I was told that she wants to see the world through the lenses of love. Anyway, it all started with the movie FOXES, in which Jodie Foster appeared as a member of a pack of teeny-boppers. Back then, Jodie had yet to start the transition from kitten to cat. In one scene, Jodie and her packmates are washing plastic dolls as, I guess, part of a high school class in infant care. The camera and the dialogue make it very clear that these young ladies feel they have other and much better things to do. Here's what I was hearing in the back of my mind, something like so: "When they have babies of their own, care (?) to guess what they'll fall back on." I spend very little time, if any, with social workers. But according to some reports, some of them struggle mightily to hold back tears, as they speak about the sorry state of child care skills that is found in so many households ... "9 1 1 NANNY", anyone? Well, I decided it would be a good idea to somehow popularize the notion that parenting skills can be learned. Myself, I would recommend that the learning should start a couple years before puberty. The idea was that Universe and "Dez" would appear in two-minute segments of animation that would be broadcast, as part of local television programming for children. Take my word for it. More than once, I tried battering through brick walls to realize my idea. And all I got for my efforts was a bloody scalp. And then, it happened! I got smart. Those two bi-chromatic kids would make for great advertising. It wouldn't be all that difficult to use them to sell cookies, and other stuff that would be appropriate to children's interests and activities. As for other stuff, I was thinking ice cream, bowling, college savings plans, and even home entertainment systems ... aaaay, you, whyz.ache.err, why (?) not female radio personalities! Some people, wise to the advertising game, might wonder whether it would be possible for cartoon characters to sell something as abstract as college savings plans. Here's the thing about parents of small children. Mommy and Daddy yield all too easily to the temptation to talk about their little darlings. Just as an aside, do beginning parents ever (?) realize just how annoying is their putting their giggly toddlers on the phone! Well, lemme clue ya, the callers at the other end think the darndest things. Back to Mommy and Daddy, what's more, the temptation to mention what they're doing for their little darlings is virtually irresistible ya'known, who'da'tunk (?) dat yellow Peanuts bird could sell home owner's insurance. By the bye, I haven't given up on the idea that Universe and "Dez" will eventually be used to introduce children to the idea that parenting skills can be learned. In the meanwhile, they're available for advertising various types of products. Interested vendors are encouraged to contact the "legal guardian", me A Alexander Stella. I can be reached at this e-mail address: stella4ron@yahoo.com or bylandline at ....... (570)853-3050. Some readers may recognize the graphic as one that appears on refrigerator magnets. To get the word about my blog, I resorted to passing those magnets out to all sorts of people. For those of you interested in statistics, here's what I'm conjecturing happened to, say, 400 (four hundred) such magnets. By the bye, I passed out more than that ... but let's keep the math simple. I'm guessing that half of the 400 was tossed aside. In monetary terms, $600 (six hundred dollars) went down the drain. Now let's focus on the remaining 200 (two hundred) -- at this point, somebody wise to the mechanics of advertising may well be yelling, "Hold on there. Just how do you know that ONLY (?) two hundred (200) of your cockamamie refrigerator magnets got tossed aside." ya'know, that's a good question. Well, let's put it this way. At first, please permit my regaling the dear Reader with a literary allusion, say, "practicality, my dear Watson, practicality". And I'm backing that up with a wager of my five doughnuts to somebody's three that 200 were not tossed aside for a very good reason. Just so happens, women use such magnets to stick notes on their refrigerator door to remind her beloved that Thursday is garbage day ... so, it would be only nice to take same out to the curb, before leaving for work. Now, let's continue. Likely enough, half (100) of those remaining 200 ended up in households that neither have immediate Internet access in the home nor care all that much about the Internet. Remember, my blog "he who is known as sefton" has to be reached through the Internet. In monetary terms, $300 went down the drain. Now, let's focus on the 100 that ended up on refrigerators in households, whose members do have immediate access to the Internet, or do indeed spend considerable time in exploring the Internet. One would think that my money, some $300, finally paid off. Think again, my little chick-a-dees, members in half of those households, some 50, pass up visiting my blog. Okay, that's $150 dollars down the drain. gee, mis'tah, ya'should'ah spent only $150 (one hundred and fifty bucks) on only 50 of dose fridge doo-hickeys, an' given dem out to only dose last 50 households. gee ... now you tell me. Well, the upshot of it is simply this. That was what I had to do to get people visiting my blog. The way I'm hoping things work out is fairly simple. People, who visit my blog, will get the word out to others. By the bye, by clicking on that "envelope" icon, one brings up a page that encourages e-mailing the hyperlink to the article along with a personal message. It works! I know. I tried it. Somewhere in this blog, there's a counter that indicates just how successful I am in attracting numerous visitors to my blog. Here, I should interject that I'm no longer passing out, higgly piggly, those fridge magnets to just about anybody. That phase is over and done with. Nowadays, only prospective product-promotion clients are getting them gratis. And, as for that counter, it's found just underneath the article, which is just underneath this post. Wood'jah (?:) buh-leave! That latter post contains a segment of my one-act play with music, CRYSTAL STAR. Incidentally, this segment is the first of eleven. As for why I keep publishing articles on this blog. Well, I figure people would appreciate having more reason to visit this blog than only viewing a pretty graphic. toodles ....... he who is known as sefton CRYSTAL STAR - segment 01 of eleven 2006-03-23T12:34:00.000-08:00 Scene 1 – page 1 CRYSTAL STAR The audience sees a bare table, a chair, the back of a second, a small kitchen sink under a cupboard, small hot plate a little ways from the sink , and some bricks and cement in corner. The door opens, and a small, old man, warmly but shabbily dressed, enters. (The actor should portray this man as frail and very old, but at times, surprisingly spry.) A gentleman of the old school, he holds the door for a young girl, dressed bright and warm, for a crisp, autumn night. Old Man: I can understand you young Americans only with a big deal of difficulty. Young Girl What makes you say that? Old Man: Outside, it is crisp autumn night, stars like little birthday candle flames. ***(Undoes his coat.)*** Young Girl: It is a pleasant evening. ***(Used to his manner, she turns her back to him and undoes her coat.)*** Old Man: Then, what is it that brings your mind to concern itself with grief, death and loss? ***(Starts helping her with her coat. A little shaky, he needs a little time to get her coat off.)*** Young Girl: I’ve already interviewed you on other matters, and I have asked around about you, so I’ve gotten to know you a little. ***(Starts slipping out of her coat.)*** Old Man: Mein Gott. You have asked around about me? As far as now, I had no suspicion that I had a gossip for company. Young Girl: I was not in the least bit gossiping. I was doing research for my job as a reporter. + + + + + + + + + + With the dialogue above, my one-act play begins. Several people have already read it. And in their considered opinion, the play deals with matters of God, retribution, resignation, justice. And here's some legality: CRYSTAL STAR by Albert A. M. Stella Published by Deinotation-7 Press Main Street Station - 0204 Susquehanna Depot, Penna 18847-0204 Purchase of this book in no way confers permission or license to produce or perform the play within. And the same goes for access to the text via the internet. I dedicate this stage play to my parents - - an Erie trackman and his wife Maria. Copyright 1978 by Albert A. M. Stella “All rights reserved. Neither the whole nor portions of this play may be reproduced in any form or by any means, except for brief quotations in a review, without the express written permission of the author.” Library of Congress Catalog Card No: 78-72152 “ISBN: 0-9602044-1-5” And now, back to the dialogue + + + + + + + Scene 1- page 2 Old Man: ***(Has her coat off by now.)*** “Research” you call it. Eh? Young Girl: It’s necessary that I do it. That way I can get to know you so I can write a really good article. Old Man: ***(Starts getting out of his coat.)*** How well do you think you know me now? Young Girl: Well, I feel it’s time I found out your feelings on those things. Old Man: Mein Gott. Why should a young girl like you care to wade into such subjects? ***(His manner should convey: ain’t – you - just – a – little – young – for – this? Grunts a little, when he finally gets his coat off, and then his face brightens.)*** Were your young man, that is it, were your young man here, your thoughts would be on livelier matters. Nicht wahr? Young Girl: Really ***(Exasperated.)*** You should not tease a girl like that, ***(She scolds.)*** Rabbi Gottesmann. Rabbi Gottesmann: You are right. Old people should not tease young people. ***(He should sound like he really feels justly reprimanded.)*** It is unfortunate that old people are granted few other earthly pleasures. Bitte, Miss Cliothal, bitte. Are you kind enough to excuse an old man. ***(Hangs coats on wall hooks.)*** Miss Cliothal: ***(with some amusement in her voice, besides she’s got to get on with her work,)*** Well, I didn’t mean to sound- - - - - - - Scene 1- page 3 Rabbi: ***(Raises his hand to cut her off,)*** This is enough, come and let us have coffee. ***(Starts over to cupboard.)*** You will ascertain that our European coffee tastes a little different from yours. Cliothal: To me, it tastes a little bitter. Rabbi: ***(A little self-deprecatingly.)*** You mean to tell me that you did not enter our little village to share coffee with me. Cliothal: ***(Getting serious now.)*** I came here to do my job as a reporter and share you with my readers. Rabbi: Why, Miss Volumna Cliothal, ***(Patiently)*** why would your readers care to share one threadbare, elderly Jew? Cliothal: To answer that question, I’ll have to tell you a little about yourself. Rabbi: ***(By now, has the cupboard open and is fumbling for the jar. There’s a small hint of sarcasm when he says.)*** Very interesting. Perhaps you will tell me something I don’t know. Cliothal: Before the terrible things that happened so recently to you Jews, ah, ***(Catches herself.)*** to your people, you wrote three books. Rabbi: They only prove that I am not illiterate. Cliothal: And you wrote them seemingly in such a short space of time. Scene 1 - page 4 Rabbi: In those days, ***(Smiles a little here.)*** I was such a blabbermouth, so eager to share my jewels of wisdom with the world. Cliothal: Anyway, because of those three books, you were known as the “guide star to Zion.” Rabbi: It is not uncommon for Jews to write about settling in Palestine. Cliothal ***(Settles herself into the chair nearer the door.)*** I read those books - - the passionate way you wrote is uncommon. ***(Starting to work up steam here.)*** Rabbi: Thank you. I feel very flattered. I had no idea my books were still read. Volumna: You know very well they’re still read. I am here because they are still read. Rabbi: Why should you be here just because my books are still read. Volumna: Because many people believe and continue to believe they’ve found meaning for their lives from what you’ve written. However, when they find out about you, they find themselves speculating about what you really meant to say in your books. Rabbi: For the sake of other people’s speculation, you have come thousands of kilometers to interview me. Volumna: I am a reporter. It’s my job to get to the bottom of things and find answers. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - One very important note: no, absolutely no German accents in any of the English dialogue unless native to the actors. In no case, should Miss Cliothal have a German accent. Scene 1 – page 5 Rabbi: So, who has a need for answers? Volumna: Obviously, your readers. Rabbi: ***(Shrugs it off.)*** Ach. Volumna: ***(Let’s try a different tack.)*** Tell me. Doesn’t it seem odd that you leave people who use your writing as a guide to their lives “perplexed”? Rabbi: How quaint! All on your own, no doubt, you have acquired some familiarity with Jewish traditions of scholarship. As for those readers, maybe they can avoid being perplexed by avoiding my books. Ja, maybe they should. ***(She can certainly be pestiferous.)*** ***(Looks pointedly at her.)*** Volumna: But can’t you see? You are living a contradiction! ***(The charge has been lodged.)*** Rabbi: I have never heard of a law against living contradictions. ***(Nonchalant as all out hell.)*** ***(Has all the stuff needed to make coffee at hand.)*** Volumma: ***(Her goat’s been got.)*** Maybe there should be. Rabbi: ***(He’s just smirking.)*** Volunma: Here you are - - a rabbi and the author of three books urging Jews to settle in Palestine. And you deliberately choose to live in, of all places, here in Germany. Just kilometers away from any other Jewish person. ***(She’s quite spirited.)*** Scene 1 – page 6 Rabbi: Who should say I have a choice? Maybe I feel welcome here. ***(Flicks two teaspoons of coffee into the strainer.)*** Volumna: ***(This is going to come fast by clear. Consonants Distinct.)*** You, Rabbi Gottesmann, stop talking to me as I were retarded. I know for dead certain you have a choice. And anyway, how could you feel welcome here? Little boys used to torment you, and they didn’t stop until the local Communist party leader read the riot act to the parents. Rabbi: ***(With new respect.)*** Ach, you American reporters can be thorough. I had no idea you would speak that way with Elsa. Volumna: And do you want to know what she told me? ***(Said off-handedly.)*** Rabbi: ***(Not really, but you’re going to tell me anyway.)*** Yes, I am . . ***(Searches for an American expression.)*** - - all ears. Volumna: Elsa thinks you stay here because you don’t want to fly over water. Rabbi: For a Communist municipal secretary and drop hammer operator, she was always so delicately perceptive. Volumna: Well, I don’t buy that. I know why you stay home. ***(She’s leading up to something.)*** Rabbi: Also glauben Sie darauf, Fraulein? Volumna: You resent your daughter. ***(She’s thinking now – I – got – you, but she’s too polite to say “hate”.)*** Scene 1 – page 7 Rabbi: ***(Hits the hot plate with pot as he sets it down.)*** You young girls, you naïve young girls everywhere. ***(Too polite to say “stupid”.)*** you read two psychology articles in some how to cook and rub your mate happy magazine, and you think you ***(mustn’t let her get under his skin.)*** you know. Volumna: Well, I know the story about your daughter. It would only be natural and expected for you to resent her. Rabbi: ***(Mocking her.)*** Only natural and expected. ***(Then bitterly.)*** So easy it is for you to say that. Volumna: ***(Cautiously.)*** Could there be something out of the ordinary involved here? Rabbi: ***(Thoughtfully.)*** Out of the ordinary…. ***(Talking more to himself rather Volumna.)*** We had been so long married without a child that I resigned myself and ceased my prayers for a child. ***(Pause.)*** The radiance in her eyes, my wife’s eyes, when she told me God had granted my prayer. Ach, the concern in the doctor’s eye, when he told us it was so late to bring a child into the world. ***(His eyes fixed on Volumna.)*** That child is precious to me. I paid dearly to have her on this earth. Volumna: If she means so much to you, why don’t you go with her to her home? Which is where you urged your people to settle. Rabbi: I do not have the strength to make such a journey. Scene 1: page 8 Volumna: Why would you need to be strong to fly there with your own daughter. You could have done so, a year and a half ago, isn’t that right? Rabbi: It is impossible for me to leave certain matters undone. Volumna: ***(Sensing something, but just a little eager.)*** What kind of matters are so important that you can not leave them undone? Rabbi: ***(Evasive.)*** Do you find it difficult to believe that a poor, old man may have important things to accomplish? Volumna: What I find difficult to believe is that you would casually refuse to go with your daughter. Yes, casually—as casually as your would refuse lemon with your tea. Rabbi: Mein Gott, Miss Volumna Cliothal, the thorough reporter, why this inquisition about a visit my daughter paid me. Volumna: She was her with her husband for more than just a visit. They came to bring you back home with them. Rabbi: Who says that? Volumna: Your friendly, local Communist municipal secretary – Elsa. Rabbi: That is just Elsa’s opinion. Volumna: On, for Chrissakes, the East German Government let them in for just that reason. Rabbi: So, who knows why any government does what it does? Scene 1: page 9 Volumna: Here you are—talking political science. Don’t you feel enough love for your family, the little that’s left to you, to be with them: your daughter, her husband, their child, -- your grand-daughter. Rabbi: She is a beautiful, little girl. Would you like to see my pictures of her. Volumna: Pictures!! Wouldn’t you like to see her? To hold her hand during a walk in the park. To watch her grow up. ***(Now one of those stupid, mean things said.)*** Or does she mean even less than your daughter? ***(Breathing heavily, the old man gropes for support, finds it, and then crumples.)*** Volumna: ***(Getting out of chair.)*** Please, Rabbi, forgive me. I’m so SORRY. I didn’t mean to cause you so much hurt. ***(Realizing what she’s done, she’s quite contrite.)*** Rabbi: Little Amerika girl, your hurt is endurable, endurable. Volumna: It is late, Rabbi Gooesmann, perhaps you’d like to go to sleep. ***(Figuring she’s way over-stayed her welcome.)*** Rabbi: You are so young. Once I was young and foolish enough to want to understand so much so quick. Volumna: It’s late. I can come back tomorrow afternoon, if you’d like for a short, final interview. ***(It’s probably best to leave the old man to his memories, dreams, whatever.)*** Scene 1: page 10 Rabbi: Sehr wahr, Volumna, it is late. This night, however, is a special night. Please stay with me and share some coffee. Volumna: Why should this night be so special? Is there some sort of Jewish holiday tomarrow? Rabbi: ***(Has had more than enough of her questions and so chooses t ignore it, straightens up and gathers the pot and two cups.)*** Please allow an old Rabbi a few small indulgences. Share a cup of coffee with me and let me for a few moments enjoy… ***(Momentarily fades out, then comes back in.)*** Ah, some good talk. ***(Waving her back into the chair.)*** Sit down, sit down. Volumna: ***(She does so.)*** ***(She knows she’s touched a few chords in the old rabbi’s heart, and now she’s taking a new measure of the man as he pours the coffee for himself and her.)*** Good talk, Rabbi Gottesmann. ***(Neutral tone of voice.)*** You must really feel the need for some sort of talk tonight. Rabbi: ***(Turn-about is fair play.)*** And what leads you to say that? Volumna: You are so insistant about having coffee with me. Rabbi: Why not stop playing reporter for a little while? Drink your coffee. Volumna: Isn’t coffee frightfully expensive here in East Germany? Scene 1: page 11 + + + + + + + okay, my dear blog visitor, you've just come to the end of segment 01. Somewhere further down in this blog, segment 02 is located. And somewhere below that, segment 03 is located, et cetera, et cetera toodles ......./ .he who is known as sefton gay and other absurd notions 2006-03-13T14:07:00.000-08:00 Dear Mitchell, buddy: It is indeed true that I "wove" a play with a gay strand. However, I don't think your circulation manager had somebody like me in mind. The best way to explain that last sentence is with an anecdote. And here goes. Right after writing the aforementioned play titled KEYSTONE, I decided to try bringing it to the attention of gays and lesbians. Just so happens, a group of such people with a religious bent meet in a Methodist church on Main Street in Binghamton, New York. So, I figured those people might be interested in learning about KEYSTONE. In the play, the "mcguffin" for the action is a stained-glass window that depicts the resurrection of Christ. Incidentally, it's never seen on stage. Anyway, the window is hailed by authorities as a masterpiece. The conflict arises from its being dedicated to the memory of a murdered gay young man. Although the congregation of the Seamless Robe--note the irony--church appreciates the window, some are, well, troubled by that dedication. And that, in turn, troubles the mother of that murder victim. As I tried to describe the play and offer copies for its perusal, a few of the people asked me whether I shared their sexual orientation. I said no. From what I could tell, I wasn't being taken at my word. No, I didn't make a big fuss about it. I didn't see the sense. Anyway, during some of the give-and-take taking place in the discussion about the play, somebody quipped about making a date with some member or other of the group. That irked me enough to blurt, "I wouldn't date any of you people". I think that got them halfway to believing me. It's a good bet I got them the rest of the way by remarking, "Show me a compulsive queer baiter, and I'll show you a despicable hypocrite." Oh, yes, you might like to know this. One the characters in my play strongly suggests by his actions that he's "that way". And lemme tell'ya. I have had to put up with people like that. As for the enclosures, I sent them along as "credentials" to the effect that I am a serious writer, and I have something to say. In closing, let me offer you a chance to read my play. Say but the word, and a copy of KEYSTONE will be on its way to you. * * * * * * * * The above text was contained in a letter that was sent, on 2001/11/29, to Mitchell White, the marketing director for S.P.L.L.C, which publishes The ADVOCATE. I think it would be fair to describe that magazine as a version of ESQUIRE for gay men ... I hope the good people at the latter periodical abide the description. .. * . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . dat wuz den ... . . . . diz is now ... * gotta admit . . . . My encounter with the people mentioned in my missive has proven educational ... heck, I've even changed my opinion about certain matters. Ah, dear Reader, did you notice the word in green. After due consideration, I believe that "pathetic" would've been more happily chosen. In divulging the insights I gleaned from my encounter, I know it behooves me to avoid making unjustifiable generalizations. Just as not every, as yet virginal, African-American teenage female is destined to bear a child out of wedlock, neither is every "invert" on the hunt for ... ah, whatever it is in popular dyslore inverts do -- ahnghgh, 'nuf'sed'. Still, I was handed enough evidence to adduce that INDIVIDUALS in that particular group had more than prayer and Bible study on their mind. For those individuals, that group also served as a "lonely hearts" club. As I said, that encounter proved educational. Much like manifestly so heterosexuals, homosexuals can be susceptible to absurd notions about me. In as much as the people in that group were up front about their sexual orientation, I figured it was only right for me to declare mine. I also figured anything else in addition to my simple declaration of "not gay" was none of their business. In the above letter to Mr White, I use the word "blurt". I know I got ticked off by taken for a liar ... yeah, there were other considerations in play, but discussing those is for another time and place. eYep, much like manifestly so heterosexuals, homosexuals can be dumb enough to comport themselves, as if those absurd notions had a valid basis in fact. . . . . well, at this point, maybe, I should own up to the fact that I do differ in certain respects from the so-called "madding crowd". For one thing, I'm a little brighter than average. According to one test I took to qualify for MENSA, I have plenty of "measurable smarts". In rough terms, suppose I were to stand on a street corner, and count 99 (ninety-nine) passers-by. With the possible exception of one, I would have more measurable smarts than the remaining 98. Another thing that makes me a tad different. Supposedly, I'm a victim of Asperger's Syndrome ... ah, that means nobody likes me. Dear Lord, I can adduce plenty of evidence for that. And the list of what makes me different goes on. I take both pleasure and pride in being recommended for membership in Phi Theta Kappa by a community college instructor by reason of my being an "independent thinker". That means I think for myself. And to top it all off, I am outspoken. What's more, I've lived my life in such a way that people take it as fact that whatever I say I honestly think. lemme tell'ya true, a combination like the foregoing makes for a tough life. The philosopher Friedrich "Fritz" Nietzsche described people like me as "lonely, hungry, violent". I don't even keep a cat. I subsist on franks and beans. More than once, I've had to throw hands. It's true. My type of guy does not have friends ... admirers, maybe. oooh, oooh, this I gotta share. If you, dear Reader, would scroll down my various posts, you'll soon come upon the one, wherein I avow there's a rumor going around about me .... aaaay, look for it, I'm sure you'll be entertained. eYep, I gotta chuckle, what idiot would dare get up on their hind legs, and confute with something like: "That guy's a liar, that's NOT the real rumor. The REAL rumor is ... ." toodles ....../ .he who is known as sefton THE OLD FART FINALLY SNAPPED one needs only condust cursory search via www.google.com, and in short order, one finds several sources. The various soures alleging, Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani has issued a religious decree that commends his Shi'a followers for murdering homosexuals in "the worst, most severe way". By the way, a few sources do cite documentation. According to one source, the decree includes Sunni Muslims. From what I can conjecture, the real target is not so much homosexuals. Rather, the old fart has in mind those, who are opposing with murder and terror the current Iraqi regime. Those people, supposedly, fall into various categories such as "jihadi", "insurgent" and my favorite "bedbug". Likely enough, the average pious Shi'ite may have scruples against murdering in the worst, most severe way a fellow Muslim, even if that fellow Muslim is Sunni. Once that fellow Muslim gets assigned to the category of "fag", however, anything goes. Before long, so I'm speculating, the media will be reporting that Shi'ite death squads are getting blamed for the torture and murder of captured jihadis, insurgents, bedbugs. Truth be told, it would take a minor miracle to make me care even less than I already do about the rights of captured jihadis and insurgents and bedbugs under the Geneva conventions. Nonetheless, I do believe in the concept of fair warning. And so, it would behoove the Arab media to inform those, who may be contemplating entering Iraq for the purpose of jihad, or even, say, for the sake of "Islamic dignity". If they get captured by Shi'ite militia, they will not die as martyrs to Islam. No, they will die tortured unto death as "queers". By the bye, lesbians should also take note. Iraqi Shi'ite society is patriarchal. In general and at best, the male half begrudges the female half their aspirations for a fair shake. One should not be surprised by reports of women getting killed for being lesbians. "girly men" DEATH WISH 2006-02-15T08:23:00.000-08:00 Decades after their initial release, the DEATH WISH movies, starring Charles "no girly man he" Bronson, still draw eyeballs. Acting as judge and jury and executioner, Bronson's character sends to their eternal reward adolescent thugs, who happen to have murderous urges and cute physiques. At bottom, this or that DEATH WISH, number whatever, is a snuff flick. Among the erudite cineastes, the gag is that the title is a twist on the Freudian notion of thanatos. In the grip of that urge, an individual craves satisfaction through personal annihilation. Through a snuff flick, this or that individual vicariously attains satisfaction through the annihilation of some other individual ... eYep, all that foregoing does sound a tad, well, excruciatingly erudite. For a little relief from that proclivity, let's animadvert to President Walker Bush via the columnist Kathleen Parker. Likely enough, the lady acquired a smattering of psychological lore in college. In a recent column, Kathleen availed herself of the term ... get ready for a chuckle ... thanatos. And she applied as analysis of the President's behaviour. What (?) other name, Kathleen asks her reader, could be sprayed like graffiti onto that irrational compulsion that foments such disastrous political follies. Depending on how stringently one evaluates credentials, she may well be butting in, by declaring as factual certain hypotheses, which accredited scholars regard as tentative. The accredited scholars I have in mind have underwent rigorous training in the discipline of psychological history. Likely enough, they merit being known as "depth historians". It is the proper provenance for such historians to dive, like cormorants, into the ideologic cesspool of historical eras. Upon coming up for air, they are expected to disgorge startling insights. Here's what's interesting about the good lady Parker's walk in the park of social commentary. I for one think it would be fair to describe her as a scribbling stand-in for Laura Bush, the President's wife. Through her commentary, Kathleen presents the softer and feminine and, if one allows, maternal aspect of the presidency of Laura's husband. The way the various aspects involved have been playing out, Laura's yin neatly balanced George's yang. Thanks to circumstances that allowed his projecting rugged masculinity, the man gained four more years of residency in the White House. Along with the memory of his "bullhorn moment" in the debris of the World Trade Center, that projection was enhanced by his implicit promise to protect the American people from islamic ... in truth, Arabic ... terrorism. Without a doubt, as he campaigned for his four more years, he was standing on a pedestal, far above that possible for girly men, in the parlance of the former body sculptor and movie star barbarian and re-call candidate for California governor. Maybe, I'm indulging in some impermissible speculation. To that, I say "So (?) what!". Here's the thing. If Kathleen is allowed to do it, then surely I should be. After all, my blog, my rules. The way the President came to be perceived by an electorate, yearning for security, is very similar to the way the character, played by Charles "no girly man he" Bronson in whatever number DEATH WISH, was perceived, back in the dearly remembered 70s ... eYep, that was one frightfully elongated sentence ... oh, well ... blame it on Faulkner. Talk about politically tone deaf! What (?) on earth made Chuck Bronson's perceived-alike dumb enough to second, in such a clumsy manner, that sea port deal with a company that's owned by an Arab country, which supposedly has ties, maybe real, maybe only imagined, with islamic terrorism! If we would like to get some idea of the magnitude of the political damage "dum'ass botch" inflicted upon himself, we need only read these two paragraphs darling Kathleen penned at the end of her thanatos column: In the more likely event that Thanatos truly is at the helm of our ship of state at this titanic moment, we can't afford to let Bush's death instinct subsume the national imperative to survive. Survival now depends on fitter minds. If the lady happens to be insightful, to the point of awesomely so, about what's motivating dum'ass botch, maybe then, we should expect even more political folly on his part. It gets me. Every so often, I peruse PIPE DREAM, which is of students and by students and for students on the campus of Binghamton University in upstate New York. Some "smarty pants" farceur aspirant caught me by surprise with snark commentary. It's a good bet my guffaw drew a few stares of askance. Just as I mused, before writing this piece, about the magnitude of dum'ass botch's self-inflicted political damage, so did that collegiate in question. And that's where the common bond ends. That other person approached the topic in the manner, one should expect of a sprout in that hothouse for flaming liberals, left-wing kooks and "gay marriage" freaks. From some musing a bit about the aforementioned magnitude, the commentary turned to the "creative inflicting of damage on one's own political stature". If "dum'ass botch" ... ah, solely my term of endearment ... had been in a mood for such folly, he should've been creative in doing so. For example, President George Walker Bush could've sent to Congress a bill to legalize GAY marriage. It could've been paraded through the august halls of Congress under the title ... get this ... "the girly man's bill of 'brokeback' rights". Darn that collegiate whippersnapper! Just (?) what is it that incites such temerity! But then, ya'gotta'r'mem'bah ... Hillary's that teal state's junior senator. Maybe, it has something to do with fluoride in the water. Oh, alright (!) already, I'll admit it. That bit about legalizing gay marriage threw me for a loop, and made hash of my outline for this piece. For a little while, I was thinking about segueing into a segment about how the leadership of the Democratic Party in the House of Representatives could begin maintaining what they're bound to gain in the up-and-coming 2006 Congressional elections. Just for the outright heck of it, here's an incidental bit I heard via talk radio. Funny thing about the Republican Party, when they're riding high, the other party is the refuge for flaming liberals, left-wing kooks and "gay marriage" freaks. When the Republican Party is drowning of the cesspool of public opprobrium, suddenly, the country is in dire need of "bi-partisan" rescue. When it comes time to spend some time to animadvert to the Democrats in the House, I'll have to try incorporating that bit about the Republican Party. All that good stuff is for a later time. . . . . ahnghgh, just to let you know, whyz.ache.err, I'm still planning to write a piece about how come the Israelis feel they were taken on a sleigh ride ... again, that's for later. toodles ....../ .he who is known as sefton APPENDIX - Visitors, who'd only want to share this insightful post, have an easy way to alert their friends. They need only click on the envelope icon just below, and that will bring up a page to facilitate relaying this post's hyperlink via e.mail. Those with blogs, who'd like to insert the hyperlink in a post, are more than welcome to do so. By the bye, this is to alert visitors, who are about to read or have read the post just below this. Some may wonder how come I have a link to text that tries to conflict. Well, I remember once when a number of classmates were caught up the hysteria of "better red than dead" ... ah, yes, my little chick-a-dees, that was during the early 60s of the last century. Anyway, the professor, who was teaching our philosophy class, dispelled it with a few well chosen words. As I remember it, Doctor Stanley Rosen said, . . . "if we keep our heads, we'll wind up neither red nor dead." And so, I avow that, if we keep our heads and apply what we know, we'll wind up free from the burden of debt or slavery. . . . . just for the heck of it ... here's a British import modified to suit current American circumstances ... How (?) can'ya tell when Bush is lying! his lips are moving. bubba da prez in.try.ode evolutionary economics 2006-02-12T16:58:00.000-08:00 Before we get to the aberrant verbal pyrotechnics and "sour-candy" jokes, for which I am justifiably notorious, I should like to insert an "in text" footnote. The hyperlink to this article was sent by e.mail to some sixty-three (63) law school professors. In a preceding e.mail, I tried to inform them about unanticipated consequences that are bound to flow from the recent Supreme Court's ruling on "eminent domain". From what I can tell, because I'm only a layperson and in dire lack of advanced degrees in Constitutional jurisprudence, I was ignored. Recently, nonetheless, a few of those pre-eminent authorities in Constitutional jurisprudence have begun to "get it". Talk about irony! It was the so-called conservative Supreme Court justices, who set this country on the road to a "Marxist" state. Their ruling on eminent domain has, potentially, made the government, in general, a partner in every private enterprise in this country. The partner that can destroy the other partner is the SENIOR partner. In truth, it saddens me that our contemporaneous so-called conservatives lack even the faintest inkling of history. Evidently, the Supreme Court justices in question forgot that "the power to tax is the power to destroy". Did I just now employ the word "potentially" ... ah, yes, my little chick-a-dees, keep in mind that, throughout history, potentiality eventually becomes actuality. Now, lemme start elucidating the rather outlandish title. It all started with James Joyce. Just about every college freshman in these United States of America has had to take, or has to take, or will have to take one or two English courses. And one of the assigned readings was, or is, or will be PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG MAN, which is a rather straightforward piece of literature. Pity the poor sapsucker, who has to struggle through Joyce's FINNEGAN'S WAKE ... wood'ja (?) buh-leave! I read it out of sheer curiosity ... well, tried to, at any rate. We have it on the word of trustworthy authorities that every sentence contains outlandish word play. To let you, dear Reader, try a taste of that word play is why this piece has the title it does. Unlike Joyce, I shall now elucidate the references. Let's start with "bubba da prez". That refers to that American President, William Jefferson Clinton. Evidently, his political enemies would, whenever the opportunity presented itself, gleefully allude to his humble Arkansas beginnings. Rather than "reared", Clinton was "raised" by a singleton mother, and he was sired by an absent father, who sired one or two half-siblings to the future president. In urban dyslore, "bubba" is a derogatory sobriquet. Now, let's tackle "in.try.ode", which is pronounced pretty much the way its spelling suggests. The syllables "in" and "ode" are pulled, in part, out of the word "intro", which is a term in jazz for an introductory musical passage. And the "de" particle is meant to suggest the past tense. Now, here's where I take pride. The two syllables "try" and "ode" are meant to allude to the triode vacuum tube. Funny story about its inventor, Thomas Alva Edison. Whatever he could claim having invented, he would swiftly attempt to patent. According to his biographers, he was as much business man as inventor ... there's lots of money to be made from licensing this or that economically fruitful invention. It must be that Edison the father had a rather low opinion of his son. In spite of his most persuasive efforts, the kid failed in getting the old man to patent the triode vacuum tube. It was that invention that would later make radio and later television marvels of communication ... oh, br'dah! we're not talking millions of dollars ... oh, sweet ever lovin' lord, we're talking hundreds of millions at a time, when a dollar was worth, in today's money, fifteen (15) dollars ... ya'know, that's one hell'va lot of chicken feed ... oh, yeah ... The word play in the syllables "try" and "ode" is meant to suggest the type of progress "bubba da prez" was trying to achieve for the country. Just to emphasize the point a bit, please, dear Reader, recall what you've just read about the triode vacuum tube. Just as that invention enabled a sea change in people's capacity to communicate, had "bubba da prez" succeeded, there would've been a similar sea change in how economic policy gets formulated. (ah, sorry about that elongated sentence) ... oh, yeah, the syllable "try" is meant to suggest attempting. True enough, this or that following passage is off the topic. In my case, the spirit is simply too susceptible to temptation. Rather recently, some financial concern was trying to suck in fish ... ah, I mean rather ... "attract clientele" with rather unusual commercials. In those commercials, visionaries are being persecuted by mobs of benighted local yokels. Here's something that's bound to enflame the ire of the benighted dolts, who pursued the impeachment of bubba da prez. It's simply way too easy to posit a comparison between "bubba da prez" and those persecuted visionaries. Even further off the topic, it would be all too easy to note the difference in the persecution of Clinton and the censure of "dum'ass botch". In the case of the former, the impetus for impeachment was ejaculated down from the top, whereas in the case of the latter, it's sprouting up from the bottom. ah, yes, what about "evolutionary economics". As I remember recent history, President Clinton opened the way for evolutionary economics by getting his political party to push through, with his Vice President's tie-breaking vote, tax increases on our country's wealthiest tax payers. Whatever else those tax increases might have accomplished, they did allow the possibility of hope for paying down the nation's debt. Under "dum'ass botch", such a hope would be justifiably considered a deranged pipe dream. Here's a question that some astute historian would love to ask former President Clinton: "When you proposed those tax increases, which outraged the country's right wing, were (?) you aware that you were acquainting the country with "evolutionary economics"! However he might answer, the fact of the matter is that he was indeed acquainting the country with "evolutionary economics". Here and now, let's suppose the former president were to answer in the negative. That would raise another question. "How on earth could (?) he have acquired knowledge of evolutionary economics! Somehow, he knew more evolutionary economics than he could articulate. As an aside, I remember a professor, who talked about shipbuilders, who were plying their trade years before Newton published his three laws of motion ... mirable dictu ships were being built within Newtonian constraints. Anyway, the professor asserted that ship builders back then knew more physics than they could articulate. With regard to the former president, the unarticulated knowledge of evolutionary economics must've come his way through some sort of intellectual osmosis. The osmosis must have begun with a doctoral dissertation, written by young Mister John Forbes Nash jr, while he was a graduate math student at Princeton. About the first thing he did, when he got to Princeton, was talk with the "pope of physics", Albert Einstein. With regard to the importance of Doctor Nash's dissertation, it would be hard to exaggerate both its significance and its future impact. In certain respects, the way Nash circumscribed economics matches in intellectual achievement the way Einstein circumscribed physics. Okay, that last sentence may call for some illustration ... very well, here it is. Whenever our rocket scientists send, to the outer shells of our solar system, rockets with cargo to harvest scientific data, they run up against constraints, derived with stomach-churning rigor from Einstein's theory of relativity. Those rockets can go just so fast for just so long on just so much fuel. In economics, similar constraints, as derived from Nash's dissertation NON-COOPERATIVE GAMES, apply with regard to trade and commerce, and even biological evolution. Ahem, NOW, dear Reader, do you (?) comprehend whence comes the "evolutionary" in evolutionary economics! And that, my dear little chick-a-dees, is what I'm trying to get across with the term "evolutionary economics". As for the three "rallying cries" that mentioned in the enclosed graphic, well, I think I did justice with regard to the third. As for the one that immediately precedes that, you, dear Reader, may easily find the post, where I discuss it in detail. Heck, I've even appended a note of demurral from some blogger, known as Maximus Clarke. The way I understand what is chancefiring between that blogger and me, the transaction is rather, well, convoluted. Let's start with the movie title THAT WAS THEN, THIS IS NOW. With regard to "that was then", yeah, it's a good bet we'd concur. As for "this is now", it may be a good bet we concur. Where I leave that sapsucker in the dust comes with HERE'S HOW IT WILL BE. I still say that Supreme Court justices should keep in mind that they serve, ULTIMATELY, at the pleasure of the people. What I mean by the very first new rallying cry can be found somewhere in my blog ... look for LAW AND ORDER. Getting that ad to run in my home town weekly cost me ninety-four dollars ($94). Whoever doesn't believe me is perfectly free to call its editor and publisher. The ad is classified as "political" in that it expresses my hope to enter the House of Representatives as the occupant of the seat for Pennsylvania's 10th Congressional District. ya'know, I'm speculating about what objections my likely opponent will raise against me. The guy might claim that I think that I'm better than regular people, who work hard, provide for their family's welfare, pay their taxes, go to church, and in general "play by the rules". I can hear myself countering with something like so: "My opponent claims that I think I'm better than regular people. In as much as he claims he's regular people, that has to mean more than he understands. Quite frankly, he has to believe that I think I'm better than he is. Let's take it a couple steps further. He has to believe that I think I'm his superior. He has to believe that I think he is my inferior. Well, let's suppose all the foregoing is true. Maybe, I do indeed think this and the other thing. In my defense, let me ask this question: "Does my thinking that I'm better than he is make him any more or any less human?" Quite candidly, I don't think so. Whether I think he is my inferior, or my equal, or even my superior, that does not make him any more or any less human. In theological terms, what I think about him has absolutely nothing to do with how his soul is perceived by God. In the eyes of the Lord, his soul is just as precious as anybody else's, just as precious as mine, just as precious as yours. ya'know, that reminds me of a certain sour-candy joke ... here's how it goes: GOOD NEWS: you don't have an inferiority complex. BAD NEWS: you really are inferior. Just because I feel like doing so, I'll now delve into the concept of regular folks. Let's face it ... regular folks do not chide our supposedly conservative Supreme Court for setting this country on the road to a "Marxist" state. If you, dear Reader, will recall the previous paragraphs in this essay, I can affirm in all good conscience that I do so. Lemme reiterate. Yes and yes again, I do chide our supposedly conservative Supreme Court for setting this country on the road to a "Marxist" state. When all the foregoing is taken into consideration, what should a reasonable person conclude? ... that I'm "regular folks" ... aaaay, c'mon ... I don't think so. Let's push the envelope a bit more with another rhetorical question. Does my being (?) outside the category of "regular folks" make me any more or any less human! Again, I don't think so. toodles ....../ .he who is known as sefton APPENDED NOTE - Yes, I did promise Orrin a link to a certain article on that brothersjudd blog. Unfortunately, when I try to insert the entirety of that link into this post, blogger.com goes haywire. So, what is the intriqued reader to do? Such a reader need only comply with the following simple directions, after clicking on the hyperlink below the response of those fabulous and furry brothersjudd. The reader will then click on the "Reviews" tab, which then brings up a window with various page titles. Found under the page title "Book Author", the "M" hyperlink should be clicked on ... hang on, you're almost there. That will bring up another window with a list of various authors. Look for, and then click on "James MacDonald". The reference one is seeking gets pulled up with just one more click on the title ... ta da .... A Free Nation Deep in Debt: The Financial Roots of Democracy. The text in green contains the response, and that in blue, the hyperlink. We can't discharge our debt without collapsing the world economy and > it's so inconsequential there's no coherent reason to try. http://www.brothersjudd.com/index.cfm/fuseaction/ In Islam ... BLASPHEMY ==> innovation 2006-02-12T16:17:00.000-08:00 For now, here's some speculation about recent disturbances in the world of Islam. For a bit there, I considered whether I should title this piece, sort of like so: "what's (?) the deal with Islam!" Well, I guess I did. Oh, well, lemme start this piece with a "heads up" for both Muslim and "jiaour" readers. I for one firmly believe that Islam blew off a "once-in-a-millennium" opportunity. If verifying the wager were now possible, I'd be betting my five doughnuts to somebody's three. The bet I have in mind might be considered rather pompously erudite. Anyway, I'd be betting that some graduate student is contemplating a thesis that would explore the mass psychology of the Islamic world. This particular student is about to delve into the emotional connection between missing the aforementioned opportunity and the recent riots that were sparked by "blasphemous" cartoon depictions of Islam's founder. As I remember what I saw, the cartoonist caricatured the Prophet in headgear that was fashioned from bombs. Here's what I suspect the cartoonist was trying to convey. The recent bombings by homicidal suicides, supposedly in the service of Islam, disgraced the memory and message of the Prophet. At this point, I'd like to speculate a little about Muslims, who are supposed to know better. I mean such authorities as scholars and imams, who are supposed to be steeped in the innermost spirit of their Faith, and are therefore accorded immense prestige by their coreligionists. I wonder. Could (?) it be possible that Islam is in such a state that its prestigious authorities are incapable of introspection. Maybe, they feel some foreboding with regard to what they might find in introspection. Is there any Muslim in the world, who wonders what (?) could've inspired that cartoonist. Taking this speculation a tad further, one might wonder whether there is any Muslim in the world, who wonders what (?) could've validated that cartoon in the minds of those knowledgeable non-Muslims, for whose viewing that cartoon was intended. Maybe, I'm threatening to burst the constraints of reasonable speculation. Even so, I'm wondering, here and now, whether there is any Muslim in the world, capable of introspection. If going any further than that, means bursting those constraints, KISMET ... that is a polite way of saying kiss my noble ginny ass. I can say that, because every person of Italian extraction has noble blood. Let's face it ... when the Italian nobility went about getting around, they were, by no means, slackers. Here's what gets me about the people of the Prophet. Among them, Jesus of Nazareth, whom they regard as both prophet and a predecessor to their prophet, is much revered and loved. What's more, they're urged in passages of their Koran to accord the highest of honors to the Messiah of the people of the Son. In one passage of the Christian Bible, Jesus is quoted as saying, "Why [do you behold] the mote (speck) that is in [your] brother's eye, but [perceive] (recognize) not the beam that is in [your] own eye? . . . [You] hypocrite, cast out first the beam out of [your] own eye, and then [you shall] see clearly to pull out the mote that is in [your] brother's eye " (Luke 6:41-42). Well, while we're here, I'd like to comment on what is supposed to be the underlying humane goal of Hamas, the members of which organization are considered terrorists by Americans with very good cause. Anyway, Hamas claims their goal, after the destruction of Israel, is a state, in which Muslims and Christians and Jews can live together in peace and prosperity. Here's the funny thing about that, Hamas is about sixty (60) years late in espousing that goal. That could've happened in a narrow window of history, after the end of the Second World War in Europe and before the United Nations' partition of Palestine. Apropos of that missed opportunity, here's a "bon mot" in circulation among Jews, who pursue commercial success on the "island" of Manhattan ... "you snooze, you lose". Even funnier yet, Hamas is based in a region of the world, where insults inflicted a hundred years call for reprisal sometime this afternoon. So, here's Hamas blithely ignoring the past sixty years with their call for an ideal state. By the bye, I'm speculating that, as Hamas tries to take over the reins of power in their portion of Palestine, both they and the people they hope to govern are in a series of rude awakenings ... eYep. toodles ....../ .he who is known as sefton EPIMETHEAN COMMENT - here's more funny stuff ... those imams, who are instigating riots over those "blasphemous cartoons", are efficaciously undermining that legendary islamic religiosity. Without those riots that call attention to such stuff, it would still be virtually impossible for Muslims to even entertain the possibility of blasphemy ... oooh, that's a thought seed that's bound to sprout, and eventually yield new strange fruit ... apologies to Billie Holliday. However either progress or regression is described, one thing's for "leadpipe cinch" certain. There's a sea change a-brewing in the world of Islam. - - here's a follow-up to previous comment - - If it weren't for the senseless bloodshed, a certain convocation of Iraqi imams would be hilarious. Here's what I mean. They pose for the camera clasping upraised hands in an appeal for peace among the various Muslim sects. The very next day, they're made to look like fools, as innocent people get blown to smithereens. I'm told there's a saying that's circulating in certain Jewish circles. And it goes like so: . . . . . hypocrites make the most odious of fools . . . . So, that set me to wondering. How many (?) of those imams, appealing for peace, preached sermons that praised those suicide bombers, who killed and maimed Israeli civilians in the name of Islam. I also wonder whether the Koran contains a verse like so: . . . as ye reap, so shall ye sow . . . oh, well, maybe, such speculation such as that is not meant for my type of guy. "impeach bush" and more 2006-01-24T16:06:00.000-08:00 At the moment, "impeach bush" is far more valuable as a rallying cry than as a goal. When we take it just one step further, it becomes obvious. Rally enough troops, and "impeach bush" becomes a goal. Stopping with impeachment, or even removal from office, would be tantamount to folly, and eventually even pernicious. I'm cynical enough to know that even removal would matter little less than a first step. The transfiguration of our political possibilities requires far more. Quite candidly, if this nation is to continue as a last best hope for humanity, transfiguration must occur. Here's where the "and more" comes in. In another article in my blog, I advocate my political party hierarchy's setting up their own Internal Affairs Department. This institution would function in a way, very similar to that of an internal affairs department for, say, New York city's. Here in this space, I'm describing two more goals I'd like to see achieved. The next goal, I describe as "the Scalito Amendment". Lately, the left wing has been screaming that the administration of "dum'ass botch" has been violating the Constitution by making "Silly Putty" (r) of the concept of inherent checks and balances. Through the Scalito Amendment, the concept of inherent checks and balances gets re enforced. Here it is in rudimentary and indispensable terms. After a Supreme Court justice has served, say, FIFTEEN (15) years, that justice shall come under review by the House of Representatives, who shall then either allow or disallow FIVE (5) more years of service. Okay, dear Reader, you've just perused the proposed amendment in "rudimentary and indispensable terms". Now, here's my thinking behind that amendment. Currently, after a justice, nominated by the president for the Supreme Court, receives the appointment by the Senate, that justice is in there for life. In point of fact, there is no check on that justice. After all, the appointment is for life. I believe it matters greatly that Supreme Court justices should keep, in mind, that they serve, ultimately, at the pleasure of the people. In as much as the House of Representatives is the "people's house", then it is only fitting that the people through their duly elected representatives have the duty of the ultimate check on any justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. As for my other proposal, the basic idea, which at the moment is admittedly half-baked, comes from Hollywood, the world's dream factory ... some people might consider that a tad ironical. Specifically, I have in mind the movie A BEAUTIFUL MIND. Like the nerd, for which I'm quite often mistaken, I was impressed by the first fifteen minutes of the movie, and by the last fifteen minutes. In the first fifteen minutes, the actor portraying John Forbes Nash jr, prior to the latter's doctorate, does rather rough justice to Nash's intellectual travaux. Mr Crowe gives the audience a convenient, albeit fictitious, clue to how Nash gained the insight that led to the latter's doctoral thesis. And in the last fifteen minutes, the movie presents the audience with a pretty decent notion of the magnitude of Dr Nash's intellectual contribution. Just before the ending credits roll, the screen is filled with gilt script that implicitly directs the audience to marvel at the power of that contribution. I say let's harness that power to help our legislators, at whatever level of governance (municipal, state, federal) make far more efficacious decisions with regard to both allocation of resources and pertinent taxation. oh, alright (!) already, so, I'm omitting certain details ... aaay, c'mon, gimme a break ... in fact, give my numerous devoted fans a break ... even for them, the preceding text is quite a mouthful. And how about for first-time visitors? Surely, they deserve a break, do (?) they not. toodles ....../ .he who is known as sefton APPENDIX - promised punchline - HIS LIPS ARE MOVING APPENDIX - here's a note of confutation that was well thought out: Maximus Clarke wrote: Hello, Some problems that I see with your amendment: The House is the more "emotional" half of Congress. Its members are elected every two years instead of every six. They tend to react to rapid changes in public opinion. The Senate is slower and more deliberative and cautious. This is why the Senate is charge of reviewing presidential appointees and judicial nominees, not the House. If your amendment had been in place when Newt Gingrich controlled the House, some of the more liberal justices could have been removed by Newt's radical Republican compatriots. In fact, since the GOP has controlled the House since 1994, ALL of the liberal justices might have been removed by now. Your amendment would reduce the independence of the judicial branch, which is exactly what the Republicans have been trying to do for a long time. (For example, some of them want judicial decisions to be reviewable by Congress.) For all of those reasons, I don't think I can support it. Max You can just link to the main page of the blog: http://subintsoc.net/situationroom Osama and our president "dum'ass botch" 2006-01-20T11:48:00.000-08:00 BAGHDAD, Iraq (AP) - The U.S. journalist Jill Carroll, weeping and veiled ... The above squib was lifted from a news piece in a website I occasionally visit for a free chance in a raffle. With the exception of those brain-dead or those, who've just returned from the moon after a two-month stint spelunking in a communications blackout, none may plead ignorance about her plight. With regard to the overarching situation, none may resort to ignorance for excusing either her captors or their ultimate and ( charitably granted) unwittingly so ==> accomplice. Here's a "dum'ass botch" joke I'm serving up for the visitor's entertainment. Question: how do you know when President Bush is lying? Answer: his LIPS are moving. The captive reporter in Iraq is connected, in the maelstrom of history, with the current president of the United States. And that office holder is in turn connected, again in the maelstrom of history, with the "bedbugs", who diminished the cityscape of New York. Here's another squib, lifted from that website: Al-Zawahri Mocks Bush Over Terrorism War Funny thing, as I watching the newscast that featured some camel jockey with a white towel wrapped around his head, I chuckled. That bedbug looked like a card-carrying member of the Screen Extras Guild in period custome. Eventually, that impression led to my recalling a poster for a movie starring Paul Newman ... WHAT WE HAVE HERE IS FAILURE TO COMMUNICATE ... ah, the all caps text is that movie's best known line ... According to the relevant news presenters, the bedbug was ridiculing dum'ass botch as a failure. Well, here's the punchline: WHAT WE HAVE HERE IS POT CALLING KETTLE BLACK ... + the graphic on + the other side + of the vertical line + of plus signs shows + a clipping of a + political ad that + appeared in + the "only 'real' + newspaper for + Susquehanna + County ... + + oh, well, I guess I'm + fated to live and die + as the human + counterpart for + MARVEL (r) comix + ... ta-da ... + The SILVER SURFER + oh, well, it must be that, nine out of ten times, transfigurations of human possibility are spearheaded by such riff raff as Picasso, Cortez, Galileo, Villon, Isaiah, Croce, Bahnhoffer et cetera ... by now, my numerous devoted fans are well aware of my most illustrious virtue, specifically ==> my awe-inspiring humility. The following text appeared previous to the insertion of the above graphic and text appertaining thereto. When it comes to talk radio personality, Randi Rhodes, there's no middle ground. Either she yammers raucously about alleged right-wing disrepute, or she wittily informs her listeners about pernicious political quackery. Whatever the case, I try to listen to her as I'm cruising along I-81 towards Binghamton in upstate New York. The Citadel outlet there has her broadcasting over WYOS. Sometime after three in the afternoon, Thursday, the 19th of January, 2006, I heard Randi claim she had been informed about the latest and by-now notorious Osama bin Ladin audiotape before our President did. Her evidence for that comes from the speech the President delivered, shortly after she had gotten the news about that audio tape. Not once during that entire speech, did our President George Walker Bush mention that audiotape. Truth be told, I most certainly allow that she has a point. But then, I'll have to allow that it might be easy to accuse me of bias. My ambition to bring about the impeachment of President "dum'ass botch" certainly inclines me towards the negative in my view of the man. At this point, I hope those reading this article could concede that I feel an obligation to my numerous devoted fans. And so, I'm about to adduce some evidence for my most illustrious virtue, specifically, my awe-inspiring humility. By this evidence, I'm sure I'll rise far above the reach of any accusation of bias. In this instance, I'll delve into the notion that both Osama and our president have, at one time or other, both vouchsafed. Both claim that the situation in Iraq, sometimes referred to humorously as "Mess O'Potamia, is a "magnet for jihadis". The last is a quote that can be directly attributed to both men. Here's the thing about both men. In my considered opinion, both are emotionally purblind. My clues for this comes from a couple sources. One of which is rather recent American history. According to our historians, the "Roaring 20s" of the last century was inspired, in large part, by the disenchantment of troops, returning from their stint in the First World War. Vaguely, I can recall a story about one very noteworthy poet, becoming disabused of jingoism as he saw for himself the venality of those in charge of his nation's military ... something about "pilgrims" of some sort. No, I do not speak of Arabic. No, I do not have friends, who do. What's more, I do not have friends, who are Muslim. In fact, my type of guy does not have friends ... admirers, maybe. And yet, I can tell you what will the disposition of those jihadis, who survive their combat stint for Islam in Iraq. Are they ever going to be disenchanted! The list of their complaints will be long and, for their coreligionists back home, both disheartening and enlightening. Here are a few samples: "We had more to fear from Iraqi Muslims than American infidels." "The Iraqis thought they were doing us a favor by letting us blow ourselves up, and kill other Iraqis." "The Iraqis called us 'infidels', if we refused to wear suicide vests." "We came to fight American Marines, and if need be, die as martyrs for the sake of Islam. Instead, we were expected to slaughter innocent Muslims." By the way, this is in addition to the complaints. There's a story that purports to be going around about what could happen to jihadis, who get captured by Kurdish militia. Those jihadis get sold to the American military for a hundred bucks, or so, a head. Here's what's alleged to have happened to one bunch of just such jihadis. During any war, from time to time, somebody who shouldn't bungle does ... snafu ... gastro-intestinal eliminate chancefires. During one week, the American military did not have the money to buy the captured jihadis. What's more, so far as American military intelligence could tell, the captured jihadis had absolutely nothing to tell that was of any military value. And the average American gee'eye could hardly be expected to donate any of their combat pay for such a purchase. The upshot being, the Kurds thought that the American program of buying the formers' captured jihadis had come to an end. Shortly thereafter, the captured jihadis died, while "trying to escape". Funny thing, each corpse had a bullet in the back of its head. The Kurds are supposed to be like the Russians, "friendship is friendship, and business is business". Well, before I lay out my plan for flushing Osama bin Ladin out his hiding place, somewhere in Central Asia, I'm going to mention my suspicion about what our President "dum'ass botch" thinks about himself. During one teevee appearance during his first campaign for the presidency, he professed his devotion to his Christian faith. He claimed he had Jesus in his heart. Well, from "Jesus in my heart", it's not that big a leap to believing one is the Saviour. In one of my other articles in this bog, I have lots of fun with that notion. Okay, now onto serious business. My idea comes from the 1957 movie SOMETHING OF VALUE, in which Rock Hudson played a supporting role, with the major role given over to Sidney Poitier. In the movie, white settlers in the African country of Kenya before its independence, are being beset by Mau Mau "uprising". Nowadays, politically correct is "insurgency". One of the Mau Mau leaders, with the title of "Oath Giver", gets captured by the white man's military. He's an elderly man, and the actor, Juan Hernandez who portrays him, gives a marvelous performance. A reasonable person can comprehend why the oath giver was a person, entitled to humongous respect from both white settlers and Kenyan common folk. During a crackling thunder storm, one of the white authorities considers aloud what the oath giver must believe. Thunder is the voice of God, so the oath giver believes. Lightning is God's spear, so the oath giver believes. White authorities escort the oath giver to a fire that is somehow raging in the downpour. For the oath giver, that's comparable to the biblical burning bush. Then the oath giver is given a toroidal stone, shaped like a doughnut, that he believes he must honor by telling the truth. Funny thing about the oath giver, he never took the oath himself. Had he done so, so he believes, he would've banished himself from God's presence forever. And that is why he never gave the oath to his daughter. One of the white men, questioning the oath giver, the latter's name being Njogu, reminds him of those, to whom the oath been given. By giving them the oath, Njogu became responsible for their being forever banished from God. As the oath giver feels the weight of his remorse, the white inquisitor compels him to peer into a future those oaths are creating. Kenya will be a house, wherein dwell those, forever banished from the presence of the Lord. Okay, my dear why.ache.err, ya'gotta admit that's pretty heavy stuff. Okay, here's my idea. Whatever the language being spoken wherever Osama is being cached, SOMETHING OF VALUE is to be dubbed in that language. And then, that movie is to be shown to the warlords, who rule over that Central Asian region. aaaay, c'mon, for a change, let's rely on one of the few activities, in which Americans do better than any other nationality, music and pizza delivery included in that few. Besides, it's a pretty bet that our spooks have tried everything else. Oh, well, maybe good ol'Winnie Churchill said it best, "Trust the Americans to do the right thing, after they've tried everything else". No, I'm no expert in Islam. But I'm told that Muslims are expected to respect the honest and deep-seated beliefs of honorable non-Muslims. And so, those warlords would be expected to respect the deep-seated beliefs of Njogu, the oath giver. In the end, he proves himself through his remorse to be an honorable man. After they've seen the movie, the warlords will be reminded that, like the oath giver, they are responsible for the welfare of those, over whom they rule. Again, I'm no expert in Islam. But I'm sure their Faith disapproves of those, who are careless in their governance. Just as Njogu is expected to care for the future of his fellow Kenyans, so are the warlords expected to care for the future of their subjects. What follows could be considered a dilettante's attempt at prosody: Forty years ago, the future was tapping on your door. Thirty years ago, the future was rapping on your door. Twenty years ago, the future was knocking on your door. Ten years ago, the future was banging on your door. Today, the future is kicking your door in. Maybe, you love Osama for his devotion to Islam. Maybe, your customs obligate you to shelter him from the wrath of infidels. But consider this. The man belongs far more in the past than in the future. The hard truth be told, though he lives in the present, he's a relic from out of the past. Is (?) not your Faith, a Faith with a future. Surely, it is a wise man, who prepares for the future. According to the dictates of your own Faith, you are expected to care for the future of those, over whom you rule. Surely, you feel obligated to ensure their future will be one, in which you would rightfully take pride in helping shaped. To that end, it behooves you to surrender Osama. toodles ..../ .he who is known as sefton danger, Senator Specter, danger 2006-01-11T17:23:00.000-08:00 eYep, wha'cher seein' appeared in my hometown weekly. In case, you're interested in the quality of its reception, please let me inform you "great". Now then, let's employ some retrospective speculation. Had this ad appeared the day after our president, "dum'ya botch", had vouchsafed . . . . . "MISSION ACCOMPLISHED", it would've taken a minor miracle to get me through that day, unscathed. Anyway, my dear Senator, you may as well know that I have a reputation as a wild-eyed iconoclast cum "this laptop for hire". At the moment, I'm wearing my "wild-eyed" cap, and I'm prognosticating what's bound to happen after your president's choice for Supreme Court justice wins bitterly contested approval. Much of what I'm now prognosticating is already, so to speak, in the cards. Nonetheless, elevating Judge Samuel Alito to the Supreme Court will do much to exacerbate the situation. For the moment, let's animadvert to the gin of scandals that now ensnare your Republican Party, as voiced by somebody like me, as I begin campaign for your buddy Don's seat in the House of Representatives ... .... treason suborned -- ah, that's one ... culture of corruption -- ah, that's another ... governance proven incompetent -- ah, still another ... unlawful eavesdropping -- talk about piling on! ... neither liberty nor security -- that's going to take a little explanation Just for your benefit, Senator Specter, here's what else I plan to pile on. Yes and yes again, I know it's horrible of me. Besides being so juicy, this first one was contributed by your good buddy, George "fancy pants" Will ... ah, ya'know that "F" for his middle initial should mean that. Anyway, I'm going to pigeonhole "conservative virtue" as lack of opportunity for vice. For the clincher, which by way of reasonable speculation will be the "last straw", I'll rail against the robbery, being perpetrated by credit cards. Ah, come a little closer to the monitor screen, dear Senator, ever so discretely look around, make sure nobody's looking over your shoulder. This will be just among you and me and the monitor screen. I suspect this robbery happened because ever so many of your colleague legislators presuppose the constituency, solely to whom they must answer, inhabits that lair of lobbyists and former legislator lobbyists, namely , "K" street. As your political party tries to get ready for this year's congressional elections, my dear Senator, ya'gotta allow that's one hell'uva lot of ignominy to try to get the American public to overlook. And then, there's the very likely elevation of your president's nominee to the Supreme Court. Maybe, Roe v Wade will be allowed to stand, at least temporarily. No matter, the situation for your party will only get worse. Here's the thing that gets me about the pro-lifers, who began their thirty-year campaign to get Roe v Wade. They forgot to take into consideration that the sensibilities of the American public can change drastically, given enough time. Well, thirty (30) years is about a generation and a half, by biblical reckoning. And public sensibilities can change drastically. Again, you're well advised to look around discretely, et cetera. Again, this is just among you and me and the monitor screen. In this rather elongated paragraph, I'm proffering something you can take to the bank. This concerns certain historians, who dive, like cormorants, into the public's psychological cess pool ... aaaay, I'm only trying to be candid, albeit excruciatingly so. Anyway, as those historians write about the "dum'ya botch" administration, they'll be disgorging one very startling insight. Here goes ... again, look over your shoulder et cetera ... . Nobody's looking over your shoulder? You're sure? Good. If you live long enough, here's you're bound to read: "The man appealed to those G.O.P self-destructive drives, so inevasibly inherent as to approach genetic. The greater his appeal grew, the more those drives intensified. Towards the end of the 'precocious' termination of his second administration, the appeal had intensified to the point of white hot." ... eYep, dear Senator Specter, that you can take to the bank ... ah, if you do, you'd be well advised to do so, so discreetly as to approach clandestinely. ... eYep, I do like those buck-ninety-eight terms of expression. Oh, alright (!) already, so some of my deathless prose is a tad over the top. Well, as the late world's most talented fop once remarked, "nothing succeeds like excess." Here's how I see things unfolding. After Alito's elevation, membership in the National Organization of Women (N.O.W) triples. The number of femisymps quintuples. In the years between Alito's elevation and the abrogation of Roe v Wade, a slew of so-called "pro-life" legislators get voted out of office. After the abrogation of Roe v Wade, membership in N.O.W triples again. The number of femisymps, this time, only triples. The Republican Party gets reduced to a shadow of its former self. Suddenly, the truth of "better a smart enemy than a stupid friend" dawns on your party's hierarchy. In a twinkling, the steams of money that water the pastorages of Reverends Falwell and Robertson dry up. The Independent Women's Forum goes out of existence for lack of funds. And there are other changes. In their campaigns for election, "pro-life" Republican candidates receive barely a pittance from your national committee. This happens even to ones, running in safe Republican districts. Oh, alright (!) already, I'll admit it. In this segment, I'm living up to my reputation as a wild-eyed iconoclast. Anyway, I believe it's reasonable to SURMISE that the good senator is hearing from state legislators, who owe their election to support by "pro-life" voters. These legislators would overlook the failure of Judge Alito to get elevated to the Supreme Court. For years, those aforementioned legislators have been earning their brownie points from their home-state pro-life voters by tinkering along the edges of Roe v Wade, under the guise of protecting the interests of under-age pregnant girls, who by the bye are denied the right to vote. It's one thing to futz around with the fate of under-age girls, it's quite another to do so with that of women, who can vote. And now, I will conclude with this story. There was a certain MS "pro-choice", who was involved in overt opposition to "pro-life" demonstrations. For a year there, during the height of such demonstrations, she noticed something within herself. On the way towards countering a pro-life demonstration at an abortion clinic, MS "pro-choice" would have a rather, well, insipid premonition. Each and every time she had that premonition, she would see, upon her arrival at the scene of the pro-life demonstration, a certain divorcee ... oh, let's call her Madame "pro-life" and a young girl, who couldn't have been more than fourteen. The one time MS "pro-choice" did not have that premonition, Madame "pro-life" was absent from the demonstration. Well, one fine day, MS "pro-choice" got the call to rally support against a pro-life demonstration outside an abortion clinic in an adjoining state. On her way, she felt that same insipid premonition. But there was a difference. Madame "pro-life" was nowhere to be seen in the ranks of her colleagues. Nope, she was inside the clinic. And sitting beside her, was the young girl. Well, MS "pro-choice" took one look at the girl, and she knew that child's story. And then, MS "pro-choice" looked at the woman. All Madame "pro-life" could do was bleat, "This is different." toodles ......\ .he who is known as sefton APPENDIX - Here's some help for those visitors, who'd like to let others read this piece. Just underneath this piece, there's an envelope icon. Clicking on it brings up a page that facilitates e.mailing the hyperlink to this article. One colleague blogger expressed an interest in linking to my blog. It's a nice thought. Unless the blog, to which one wishes to link, is BOTH extremely popular and elaborate, neither of which adjectives describes mine, such a link would be a waste of code. Nonetheless, bloggers can help their readers link to this piece easily enough. One needs only copy the U.R.L in the address field that's specific to this article on its own page, and then paste it in an article that mentions this article. Incidentally, I welcome bookmarking my blog. EPIMETHEAN COMMENT - In this case, my dear Senator, there's no need to look about discreetly. Here's what I'm hoping for, in my heart of hearts. I would love to hear one of your Senate colleagues ... supposedly, you're one of the senators, who is free of the Abramoff taint ... or even you (!) deliver the following speech. "Judge Alito, I will vote to disapprove of your nomination to the Supreme Court of the United States. Truth be told, my dear Judge, my disapproval emerges not so much out of my consideration of your personal character, or even professional qualifications. Rather, it emerges from my distaste for your sponsorship. "According to certain mainstays of your sponsorship, you are the culmination of some thirty (30) years of effort. Supposedly, yours will be the deciding vote on the Supreme Court to overturn Roe v Wade. Undoubtedly, that would be momentous. In private with my thoughts and after ruthless deliberation, I've arrived at the inferences that can be drawn from the phrase "thirty (30) years". By biblical reckoning, that amounts to a generation and a half. If the Old Testament should be considered as a guide for decision making, then we should remember certain passages from EXODUS. "Therein, we read that the generation that came out of Egypt was not allowed by the Lord God to enter Egypt because of impurity. It took some forty (40) years to purify the Lord God's Chosen People that they may enter their Promised Land. "In thirty (30) years, much can change. When your sponsors embarked on their project, this United States of America harbored one set of sensibilities with regard to reproductive rights and presidential powers. Since then, much has changed. "In as much as your sponsorship is thirty years behind the times, my dear Judge Alito, so too are you. This leads to other inferences. "The fact that this United States of America has gradually transmuted the sensibilities, harbored within, leads to another inference ... in fact, a startling inference. Ours is a living country, which is governed by human beings in reverential compliance with our Constitution. Only a living Constitution is compatible with a living country. On the other hand, a 'dead' Constitution is manifestly incompatible with a living United States of America. "It may well be that your sponsors are completely oblivious to the foregoing. That would be unfortunate. The reason being, that makes them far more pernicious, as they strive to achieve their goals. Were they to ultimately succeed ... and this goes beyond your mere ascension to the Supreme Court ... this living country would come under the sovereignty of a 'dead' Constitution. "One of our Founding Fathers once remarked about the Huns and Vandals, who could destroy their nation, along with its destiny. Those Huns and Vandals will not invade from without. No, instead, they will attain seats of power and glory and honor. Thus ensconced, those Huns and Vandals will demolish the very foundation of our beloved country, and thus bring about its utter collapse. "If I may, I should like to refer to Holy Writ again. The Saviour once remarked that "by their fruits, ye shall know them". Through the acquiescence in, if not outright complicity in these scandals, by your sponsorship, our nation's legislature is immersed in scandal. The ferocity ,with which your sponsorship, seeks your ascension to our Supreme Court gives me pause. That leads me to infer that your sponsorship has convincing reason to put their hopes in you. "And that is another cause for my voting against your ascension to the Supreme Court of this United States of America. For our country's sake, those hopes must be dashed. "It may well be, my dear Judge Alito, that you as an individual are an honorable man, that you as a professional jurist among other professional jurists are qualified to sit on that court. Nonetheless, your sponsorship makes your nomination to the Supreme Court tantamount to treason. "And that is not all, I have to say. As I vote to deny your nomination the consent of this Senate, I believe I shall be doing so in the spirit of our Founding Fathers. When they embarked on the birth of their new nation, they pledged their life, their fortune, and their sacred honor. To the end that the hopes of your sponsorship shall be dashed, I pledge my life, my fortune, though a meagre legacy, and my sacred honor." CRYSTAL STAR - segment 02 2006-01-04T14:52:00.000-08:00 In this segment, I'm publishing pages 11 through 13 in Scene 1, and pages 14 through 20 in Scene 2. As readers encounter the following segments, they shall be reminded about how the text is being published. In the following segment, a few succeeding pages in the original are published. And in the segment after that, a few pages that succeed those are published, and so forth for the rest. Copyright (c) 1978 by Albert A.M. Stella Scene 1: page 11 Rabbi: For you, it’s an expense that I’m happy to bear. Volumna: I am told the price of coffee is easier for you to bear than most people would expect. Rabbi: What are you coming to? Volumna: Well, you cross the border into Poland twice a week. Rabbi: I see what you mean. I earn a few extra marks when I teach Latin and Greek at a small Polish Center of higher learning. Volumna: “A few”. Hmmm. That squares with my impression that you don’t seem to get paid all that much. Rabbi: Ach, my students don’t seem to get educated all that much. Volumna: Let’s stick to the price of coffee. It’s cheaper in Poland. Right? Rabbi: Ja, it is very much so cheaper. Volumna: Now, if somebody could buy coffee in Poland and somehow get it into East Germany without paying duty. Rabbi: That somebody would be a smuggler. Volumna: True. And supposing this somebody could do it twice a week, couldn’t this somebody make a nice sum of money? Rabbi: Not necessarily. Very likely, this somebody would have to be very clever or have the authorities turn a blind eye. Either of which involves a good deal of money. Scene 1: page 12 Volumna: You are right. Still, … isn’t it true that you carry a valise with you when you commute to and from that Polish school? Rabbi: That valise is for my Latin and Greek books and papers. Volumna: I see. The authorities go along with that. Rabbi: Why should they not? Volumna: Funny, though. Rabbi: Funny what? Volumna: The authorities, I’m told, never bother to check your valise. Tell me, Rabbi Gottesmann, if they did, what would they find? Latin and Greek books and papers…-- … or… Rabbi: ***(Swallows hard on his coffee.)*** Wahr, sehr, wahr, Fraulein. I carry Polish coffee in my valise across the East German frontier. ***(Tone of voice is what else do you want ---blood-? )*** Volumna: You didn’t know Elsa was such a blabber-mouth, did you? Rabbi: Sehr richtig. Our local, friendly Communist municipal secretary is such a miser. She pays me less than the Polis provincial educationsl authority. Volumna: So, you are a smuggler. You deal in the black market. Rabbi: Why not just say that I am engaged in non-regulated commerce? Volumna: Then, why are you engaged in “non-regulated commerce”? Scene 1: page 13 Rabbi: For the money. ***(Are you ever dumb.)*** Volumna: And with this money, you buy bricks and mortar. Rabbi: Ja, I buy bricks and mortar. Volumna: Bricks and mortar. I’ve asked you about them before. And all I get from you is something about a fountain. ***(Pauses a bit.)*** Please understand, Rabbi, I’ll never write down a word of this, but I’m just dying to know for sure. Do you--- Rabbi: Ja, Fraulein Cliothal, I also carry German pork sausage across the Polish frontier. Volumna:: ***(She’s just giggling.)*** Rabbi: Are you laughing at a poor, aged rabbi and sinner? Volumna: You’re no sinner. I just think the part about your smuggling German pork sausage into Poland is deliciously funny. Rabbi: ***(Catches pun and snorts.)*** ***(Now, the old rabbi and the girl are startled by three loud knocks on the door. Off-stage, a flute softly plays a strain from A THOUSAND YEARS.)*** *Scene Two: Same location and time with another principal.* page 14 Rabbi Gottesmann: Sit there, Miss Cliothal. I had better answer the door. ***(The good rabbi goes over and opens the door to a middle-aged man, tall, powerfully built and dressed in an evening suit. His suit must be elegant---evidence he’s a man used to champagne and chemin de fer. A handcuff dangles off his left wrist, its mate closed and speckled red. Because of the positions of the door and the table, Volumna is hidden from the man, who remains in the door-way.)******** Rabbi Gottesmann: Guten Abend, mein Herr, how may I help you at this time of night? Middle-aged Man: Guten Abend, I would like to contract you for a certain service. Rabbi: A certain service? What do you need me for? Man: I need you for a guide. Rabbi: I hope you did not mistake my little house for a tourist bureau. Man: At this time of night, I should be a strange tourist. Still, I need you for a guide. Rabbi: And to where would you like me to guide you? Man: Where the Volkspolizei cannot find me. Volumna:: ***(This is something out of the ordinary.)*** The police??? Scene 2: page 15 Man: ***(Just about springs through the door-way shoving aside the rabbi, slams the door shut and ends up staring down on Volumna.)*** Was haben wir hier? ***(After a few seconds of sizing her up.)*** Ach, mein Alter, you are not only an old fox, you may even be an old stallion. Rabbi: Mein Herrr, that girl is an American reporter. She is my guest, and she is here to write a story about me. Man: ***(Exhaling in contempt.)*** A story on a pork-sausage smuggling Jew! Rabbi: I will tolerate no insults from--- ***(The rabbi falls silent and stares intently at the man for a moment.)*** Volumna: ***(Just taking this all in.)*** Rabbi: Doch, this is wirkliech a special night. Man: Wahr, it will also be a profitable night for you, when I am safely hidden. Volumna: How come you’ve got to hide? Rabbi: That, Fraulein Cliothal, is something you need not know. Man: That pleased me to hear you say that. There is not much time for you to go aabout the business of hiding me. Rabbi: What makes you believe that I can hide you? Man: You, old Jew, survived war-time Germany. There gives no life for the fox that can be sniffed out by the hounds. Rabbi: How close are the hounds to you? Scene 2: page 16 Man: In a few moments, you will hear how melodically the Volkspolizei can bay. Rabbi: I would rather like to hear what you have to offer me as your guide. Man: How does five hundred West German marks sound to you? Rabbi: Like music. Man: We have a deal. But what about this American piece of fluff? ***(Indicating Volumna>0*** Volumna: I resent that! Man: ***(Ignoring her.)***Does she have enough sense to stay out of this affair? Rabbi: Keine Sorgen, mein Herr, keine Sorgen. ***(With a re-assuring gesture.)*** Man: Gut. Rabbi: Volumna, leave swiftly, there gives not too much time. Volumna:: ***(With some sarcasm.)*** And this was supposed to be such a special night that you wanted me to stay a while. Rabbi: This night is much more special than I thought. Man: There is not much time left to me. ***(Command.)*** Bitte! Rabbi:: Our “guest” is correct. Leave now. Volumna: You don’t think you can trust me? Scene 2: page 17 Rabbi: In this matter, trust is not involved. Much risk is. Volumna: I’m used to taking risks. Man: And the Volkspolizei are used to taking people like you. Mein Herr, there has for us little time ***(Showing the dangling hand-cuff.)*** Man: ***(Continuing.)*** Once tonight I have evaded the teeth of the Volkspolizei. They do not intend to have me do that again. Rabbi: ***(To the man.)*** Ja, Ja ***(To Volumna.)*** I beg you for your own good. Volumna: ***(Somehow a nerve got touched.)*** Own good this. Own good that. I’m sick and tired of hearing “for your own good.” Man: Gott im Himmel! A typical dumb girl! ***(Why me?)*** Rabbi: Schweigen! Fraulein Volumna Cliothal, get lost. I shall have tough enough time to explain why I am with this man. Man: ***(A new hardness to his eye and a bite to his voice.)*** To explain why you are with me TO WHOM? Rabbi: ACH ***(Time for some quick thinking.)*** To my friends who will help me hide you. ***(Will he buy it?)*** Man: Filthy liar, you have no friends. You want to betray me to the Volkspolizei – after you have taken my money, naturliech. I shall gladly slit your throat. ***(Starts towards the rabbi.)*** Scene 2: page 18 Volumna: Kill him and who’s going to hide you? ***(She ain’t too dumb after all.)*** Man: ***(That stopped him in his tracks.)*** ***(Looks first at the rabbi and then the girl; makes quick assessment of the situation.)*** Little, old Jew fox, you shall hide me and fluff. Rabbi: You are mad, Joachim, I will not let another innocent girl die because of you. Joachim: ***(Astonishment.)*** Nobody has called me Joachim for so many years. Volumna: Rabbi Gottesmann, what do you mean another innocent girl die? ***(The gravity of it all has brought her down to earth with a thud. Special emphasis on the word “die”.)*** Rabbi: ***(Quick to make use of Joachim’s indecision.)***Joachim, Joachim, bitte, let her go out of here. Joachim:: ***(Must have over-done it.)***So she can bring the Volkspolizei onto my trail. Do you take me for a fool? Rabbi: I take you for the soulless monster automaten that murdered Helushka. Joachim: I did not kill that girl. Rabbi: You tore a star out of the heaven. You shed her blood. You destroyed a celestial soul. Joachim: ***(With icy contempt.)*** What would you know about celestial souls, you pork- sausage smuggling Jew? Scene 2: page 19 Volumna: A lot more than you ever could. Rabbi: For your ears, Volumna, I will speak my truth. Volumna: Now?! ***(Has he gone crackers?)*** Joachim: I demand a hiding place right now, old Jew, or I will kill that -- ***(Some desperation here.)*** Rabbi: Joachim, you will kill no more. Volumna: What makes you so sure? Rabbi: Unearthly evil has entered here. It must and shall be dealt with by a strong man with truth in his eye. ***(Matter- of – fact- tone.)*** Volumna: ***(Doesn’t he know this guy is a maniac killer?)*** A gun in his hand just might help somewhat more. ***(American black humor.)*** Rabbi: I shall catch Joachim in a snare. As tomorrow’s sun dispels this night’s dark, it will shed its light for the day of Helushka’s death on justice achieved. Volumna: That’s why this night is so special. Tomorrow is the anniversary of that girl’s death. How special was that girl? Rabbi: She was such that everything about her was special. Because of her, this little village is special. She grew up her and loved it so much. Volumna: This is Helushka’s home town and so you remain here. Scene 2: page 20 Rabbi: For far greater reason than that. Joachim: Then it’s not true that you are afraid to fly over water. ***(Maybe with a little humoring.)*** Rabbi: ***(Touching Volumna on the shoulder a bit.)*** I feel her presence here. Her presence sustains me in my purposes. Volumna: ***(Be discreet.)*** Ah, how did you feel toward each other. Rabbi: I loved her in a special way, and with my heart I knew she responded in a special way. Joachim: ”From Afar”, nicht wahr? How else can a senile letcher love? Volumna: ***(Shoots Joachim a dirty look.)*** It all did happen after your wife died? Rabbi: Much happened after my wife had departed and left me with my daughter. In the evening of the day I had buried my wife and brought home my infant daughter. I began seeking the medicine for my grief in the Holy Literature of Our Faith. Volumna: Did you find a reason why? Did you want to find a reason why? Rabbi: What man can presume to call God into account? Joachim: So, you can endure to suffer bravely for reasons known but to God? ***(Hectoring the old fellow.)*** scratch a muslim, find ==> 2005-12-27T14:09:00.000-08:00 ==> a christian. It happened, as if Allah the Compassionate, praise be upon Who Is Who Is, had turned insidious. A bizarre trick was played on all the Muslims in the world. Our heart went from Muslim to Christian. Wherein the heart enters, the soul follows. Wherein the soul enters, the mind follows. We are bereft of our Islamic strength. In obedience, subtle and unquestioning and innocent, to their Jewish Messiah, the West came after us. Oh, the West tried mightily with Christmas carols and bloodshed. Praise Allah, all that was in vain. The West failed utterly and miserably. We remained true to Islam. Our heart remained Muslim. And then, it happened. In submission, subtle and unwitting, we welcomed, with open arms, the body snatchers. Yeah, sure, we're still Muslim, outwardly. We still comport ourselves as good little Muslims. Here are some examples. No, we do not cozen our children into being good with fairy tales about Santa Claus. No, we do not dye and decorate hard boiled eggs, and then then plant them, where children may easily find them. No, we do not sing Christmas carols during midnight church service. Yes, we still recite the Koran in our mosque. Yes, we still face towards Mecca, as we kneel on our prayer rug. Yes, we still make our pilgrimage to that holy city. Oh, Mecca, now, how (?) holy art thou truly. Well within thy precinct, here and there, by way of metaphor, McDonald's has pitched a tent. And this disturbs our siblings, who are drawn deep into the romance of Islam. These are the innocent, whom the Faith enthralls with the solitude of the desert, the triumphant roar of a distant lion, and the poignant vision of a redoubtable warrior. Islam presupposes men ... real men. Does a real man scomp Big Macs? What are we to tolerate? If we live in Scranton, we are permitted Big Macs. Suppose, we live, instead, in Mecca. Should we then regard McDonald's as being compatible with the romance of Islam ... as being compatible with the ambiance of a holy city, where the Prophet smashed idols, thereby winning hearts and minds. It goes without saying it's only good business practice to serve only Big Macs, which are in compliance with strict Islamic dietary ordinance. Predictions that come to pass are prophecy. Predictions that fail to come to pass are metaphor. In the attempt, subtle and innocent, to save Islam from blowing off a once-in-a-millennium opportunity, a scandalous old man made a prediction in a novel, whose copies were burned by an American agency for cause of obscenity. "'Just as there are mosques and synagogues in Rome, mosques and churches in Jerusalem, soon there will be churches and synagogues in Mecca'." [quoted quote found somewhere in STEPPING STONES]. McDonald's is now in Mecca. How soon will we, poor banished children of Eve ... how soon will we, descendants of Abraham's cast-out Egyptian concubine, witness and dutifully record the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the first-- oh, never mind! Yes, there's no doubt about it. If all that were in the West's arsenal were only Christmas carols and butchery, we would still remain in our heart true to Islam. Our heart would still remain Muslim. Wherein the heart enters, the soul follows. Wherein the soul enters, the mind follows. In his DECLINE OF THE WEST, a certain Oswald Spengler is besotted with exaggerated rumors of the West's demise. In the Jewish Old Testament, a prophet rails against vanity. Oh, how insidious a poison it is! Just as the world requires rogues, so does medicine require poisons. Such dire medicines, such potent drugs, have been concocted by the West. Never before, has the world seen their like. Where were the recipes for the required antidotes? What were the ingredients we were supposed to gather and cook? Where Christmas carols and full metal jackets failed, the West's conquest came by way of ballots and satellite television and Viagra. Yes, you read it right the first time. VIAGRA. O yeah, sure, we're still good little Muslims, outwardly. In our heart, we are now Christian. Scratch a Muslim, find a Christian ... even worse, much worse, find a Christian American. Oh, yes, it would be remiss to omit mentioning the crux of this lament. Here's what we had better understand, albeit maybe without completely comprehending. Even when the Americans are wrong ... horribly mistaken even, nevertheless, they still win. Perhaps, we should take consolation from a fact one may well consider insignificant. The Americans, also known as "yankees", paid dear for that victory. Praise Allah, the price exacted, even today, continues to be macabre. APPENDIX - aaaay, c'mon, whyz.ache.err, what the hell should'ja (?) expect from a wild-eyed iconoclast cum "this laptop for hire"! ah, come a little closer to the monitor screen, ever so discreetly, make sure nobody's looking over your shoulder. This is just among you and me and the monitor screen. There are times I wish to God Almighty I had never encountered Avram Beilitzsyn. Here I am a retired bachelor, a geezer infatuated with-- ahnghgh, nun'ah yer beezwax! I'm up to my ears in credit card debt. Even worse, like Avram, I'm even delving into an extreme case. Time and time again, he would intone that much can be learned from an extreme case, provided the heart is ready. Here's how this case came to my attention. When the explosives, which were crammed into an automobile, were detonated by suicide bomber, some one hundred and twenty Iraqis were killed outright, with a score or more of others wounded. The perpetrator, who caused and died in the explosion, was a Jordanian national. Allegedly, his family back in Jordan honored his "martyrdom" with a celebration. In a diplomatic dispatch to the Jordanian monarchy, the Iraqi government, such as it was at the time, made it perfectly that the latter was angered by the carnage, and furthermore, regarded as an affront the subsequent celebration. Okay, here's where we delve in search for the crux of the matter. The perpetrator spent several years, living and working in the United States of America. According to several witnesses, whom he had befriended in America, he enjoyed "looking at the ladies". I think it's reasonable to conjecture that the young man in question was doing more than simply looking. Taking that conjecture just a bit further, one may easily surmise that, as best and as intensely his modest means allowed, he pursued the so-called PLAYBOY lifestyle. Here, I feel I should try my hand at intimating the import of that immediately preceding sentence. Truth be told, I'm taking a little time and space to be of service to the innocents in the readership. PLAYBOY, the magazine, is justifiably noteworthy for its "centerfold" graphic, wherein a "virginal" comely late-blooming young woman is posed in her birthday suit. Back to the Jordanian suicide bomber, his story gets a little more interesting. For whatever reason, he exited U.S territory to spend some time in the Middle East. When he tried to return to the States, he was denied entry by some suspicious immigration official. Now, we leap to what I'm surmising. Denied entry into where he could pursue the PLAYBOY lifestyle, the future suicidal bomber fell into despair. He had been denied his heart's desire. Wherein the heart enters, the soul follows. Wherein the soul enters, the mind follows. In this case, the mind decided on retaliation through "martyrdom". Bottom line, he was, in his heart, no longer, Muslim. Rather he was American. In as much as the country that spurned him is Christian, in his heart, he died a Christian American. O yeah, almost forgot. Around Christmas of 2005, some Palestinian militants, notorious for sponsoring similar martyrs and also known as "bedbugs", occupied the Bethlehem municipal building. Before teevee cameras of local media, some spokesman in a mask informed the public what the hullabaloo was all about. Now then, were they demanding new and improved (?) exploding vests for punishing Israeli occupiers by glorious suicidal "martyrdom"! Ny'ah, they were demanding jobs, employment with weekly deposit in their checking account. Sort of ironical, is it not? That mob and others like it coaxed scores of devout Muslims to try buying an express ticket to Paradise, using as currency "martyrdom" by suicide vest or automobiles, crammed with explosives. ... o yeah, whyz.ache.err, ya'gotta admit, job seekers aren't exactly martyr material, despite their calling their mob some sort of martyrs' brigade. One might suppose that, as currency, "martyrdom" is great for express tickets to Paradise. When it comes to paying for a falafel snack, the average street vendor prefers and accepts only what can be deposited in the local bank. toodles ......\ .he who is known as sefton FOOTNOTE - oh, yeah, here's something for would-be "martyrs" to chew on. Take the aforementioned "martyr", who killed some one hundred and twenty (120) of his sibling Muslims. He was no martyr to Islam. In his heart, he was a martyr to PLAYBOY. TANGENT - Somebody had better alert the Palestinian negotiators about a "lead-pipe cinch" consequece of the entrance of Hamas into their government. This is what those negotiators are going to hear, when they meet with their Israeli counterparts, "We owe you nothing." And one more thing . . . the man who poisoned Islam was American President John Fitzgerald Kennedy . . . funny thing, when he challenged his county men to put an American on the moon before the end of the 60s' decade, he probably thought he was only giving his fellow Americans a "pep talk" . . . likely enough, good ol'J.F.K thought the project was more impossible dream than possibility . . . but ayyy, he figured his fellow Americans needed a dream of some sort.