Tuesday, October 16, 2012


I awoke this day with a common place sharp pain between my shoulders as the muscles complained blithely from being stretched the wrong way during the night. I remembered the orthopedic surgeon asking me, how and when I was injured. At the time I couldn't remember which he found suspect because an injury that severe should also be memorable. This day, in the cool darkness of my bed, I remembered and I believe I should be excused for forgetting something that happened in the 5th grade as I am 61 and it was a long time ago. The wound on my back is as fresh this day as I find it hard to raise my arms as it is in many minds for the wounds they suffered.

When I grew up there were three classes. There were the Mittens living in the world of privilege, whose parents carefully extricated them from any trouble they got into with a fat check if it was ever reported, the middle group who played see no evil, get hit with no evil, forget what you know and my group: the poor, the weak, the not so white and in particular, the female. I was poor, small and female. I also committed the sin of being pretty so I could expect no help, not even from my teachers who were charged with protecting us but in fact knew their continued employment depended on the favors of the progeny of rich and famous in the school. Poor pretty white girls were playthings to be abused and used up, then thrown away.

It was after school and like most of the poor, I had no parents in a car to pick me up as they had to work to put food on the table and no bike as it cost money to buy. We were shuttled out one side of the elementary school and just to enforce our position on our little minds, it was on the opposite side from where all of us would be heading home. That way we got to walk by our superiors getting into their cars or getting on their bikes for the leisurely ride home while we walked in 90 degree F temperatures across 4 lane highways in the dirt less than 2 miles, because that magic mark got you a ride on a school bus and we weren't worth it, home. You have to understand the school board was populated by rich men's politicians on the way up, bought and paid for, and bored society ladies coveting a picture on the society page for their 'charity' work as long as it didn't interfere with their bi-weekly beauty parlor appointment. That two mile radius was measured by taking a ruler and drawing a circle with the school as the center. We all walked way over two miles because we couldn't get home "as the crow flies". My father actually measured the walk that day at 2.5 miles. It didn't matter in social order or to the school board.

On a bet or just out of not wanting their view spoiled by kids who only had two dresses and one pair of shoes to their name, one of the rich little spoiled bullies waited for me to pass and then took a swing at me with a 3 pound book. Simply because my instinct was to survive, abused children are that way, I nodded my head a split second before the book hit with the full force of his much larger body holding it in two hands and it caught me not in the back of my head as intended but between my shoulders. I made it up the front steps before I passed out in front of the Principal's office door.

When he brought me around in his office, I told him what had happened although it was completely against the "rules" and I would be ostracized from any company for the rest of my school career. You didn't tattle on the rich kids even when they almost killed you. Had he caught me in the back of the head with the book, he would have probably snapped my neck. He out weighed me by at least 30 pounds. and 8 inches. The Principal, a gentleman, asked to see my back and when I lowered the back of my dress, we wore dresses up to our necks back then, the imprint of the book was on my back along with the embossing allowing him to clearly read the title. He quickly called my parents at work as he didn't trust me to walk home without passing out and went outside and grabbed the offender.

By the time I regained consciousness again the little bully and his parents were in the outer office where the Principal was explaining that they would not be disciplining their son as he had already been thrown out of three schools including a military academy for violence against children smaller than him. That was when my parents walked in the door. I could always tell my mother high heels clicking on the terrazzo floors. My father wore crepe soles so he would sneak up on you. The Principal turned to them and told them they had better take me to the hospital as I had passed out twice now.

That would have meant a police report and the bully's smug parents knew that wasn't happening. There was no money for a hospital and there was no insurance back then. You paid cash for medical treatment or you didn't get it. The Principal continued that the bully's father wouldn't be disciplining him as that hadn't worked the past three times; he would. The little demon spawn would show up at 8 sharp to his office where he would spend the rest of day doing his lessons until one of his parents picked him up at 3 PM  or later. He didn't care, he had to work to 5 PM. The bully would not be allowed to talk, to see or eat with the other students. He was on indoor suspension.  One false move and the paddle (which was a wooden board) would be used and the Principal was not a small man.

However, my father was a bigger man and when he found the little bully had hit me with a 3 pound book, now laying on the secretary's desk, he turned to the father and popped him in the jaw so fast no one even saw anything but but Mr. two hundred dollar suit hit the wall 8 feet away. He carefully warned him not to get up and that if I so much as reported I saw his son anywhere, he was coming to find the father and that time, he would not get up. I remember the little Barbie Doll wife wailing about her husband, i.e. meal ticket, being hit and my father informed her he had never hit a woman in his life, but his wife had. Now, my mother was 5 foot 6 inches and in 5 inch heels. She was not a small woman though fashionably skinny. She also had a stare that could freeze water at 10 paces. She was also beautiful and the Principal and her both hailed from West Virginia. One day a week she volunteered in the library and had lunch with Principal discussing their poor childhoods and flirting. When the words lawsuit came out of someone's mouth the Principal carefully explained, he who was now bleeding on a 50 dollar shirt must have tripped in his haste to get to his son and wives can't testify in court for or against their husbands. It seemed everyone in the room but her and the kid who was now properly scared saw her husband trip. My father assured him the next time no one would see him trip, picked me up and carried me out the door.

As I was being roughly carried out the door I heard the Principal comment that my father was Irish and had been a boxer. Being Irish meant you were subhuman, a drunk and violent. Being an Irish boxer meant you were lethal because when my father boxed, they did it bare knuckle. It was how he made enough money to pay for pilot's school after he completed the WPA aircraft mechanic's courses. He was also a mean SOB who didn't mind killing someone because humans ought to have better sense than to get in his way. He had a particular dislike for men who beat women and had broke more than one of the habit.

There was of course no hospital as there was no money. My mother spent an hour on the phone the apartment house owner provided in exchange for her management and my father's repair skills finding a doctor we could afford and finally around 6 PM she found one. When we arrived with the twenty dollars hoping he wasn't going to suggest an Xray because twenty dollars was all we had, the nurse explained to my mother something I would understand when I was much, much older. The reason the doctor was so cheap was he could only by law examine me if she and one of my parents was present in the room. He could never be allowed to see me alone. That is the kind of doctor poor kids got to see. Luckily, he was a really good pediatrician as he kept me alive for two more years through pneumonia and asthma. He did the Xray for free and said the hairline fracture would heal but I needed to stay still for a couple of months, the muscles were torn and would heal but give me trouble later in life so I should avoid manual labor and for now, the nurse had to tape my back as he wasn't allowed to touch me and hence, wrap tape around me. He also wasn't allowed to dispense pain medication so he recommended they give me a stiff shot of whiskey to put me to sleep the next couple of days. I still hate the taste of whiskey.

I also hate bullies but that is their problem because I will make it their problem.  I may be a girl, but in a couple of months when I could move my shoulders again without pain, my father taught me to box and spent every penny he had saved to buy me a bike. Two years before, he had taught me basic martial arts, now he taught me not to defend myself but to take the offensive. You see, only his mother was Irish and she was beaten, used and thrown away, not even divorced, while his father married a more socially acceptable woman after three kids were born. He even gave his first born of the new family the same name as his real first born. My father was left to die in a out building because he had auburn hair and looked like his mother, by his father's mother. I have been told I am the spitting image of my grandmother but there are no pictures and I do have red hair. It doesn't matter my color comes from the Scottish Highlanders, we are all subhuman Irish in the world of privilege.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

The Curious Non-War

When our ambassador to Libya was murdered in a mortar attack on his envoy, the Teapublican darling, Mittens, was ready to start a war and bomb Libya into the desert. We can maintain a war on two fronts he claimed and in fact, we are pretty good at maintaining a war on more than two fronts. Let's get 'em, those dirty Muslims. Pictures of our not so dead looking corpse littered the internet from the Teapublicans, with no regard for the effect on his friends and family, being desecrated by those Muslim terrorists.

A few sane voices pointed out that he didn't look that dead, there was no blood and a mortar or rocket launcher tends to tear you into small pieces. In fact his cloths didn't even look dirty and it appeared those horrible Muslims were carrying him to safety, not desecrating his corpse.

Then the rocket launcher attack on his vehicle turned into a sniper attack on him as his party ran from the embassy which turned into a planned assassination as he was lured out of the embassy because why would a sane person run out of a nice concrete building reinforced against sniper attacks to get into a flimsy metal object called a foreign car while people were shooting at them. Still there was the little problem of how you get shot or blown up and there is NO blood. Large or small holes in the body have a tendency to cause BLEEDING.

Yet, Mittens was getting good mileage out of meeting, he thinks, the saintly Navy Seal that was killed with our ambassador until the seal's mother requests he stop using her son for a political advantage. There is more to that story than her possibly being an Obama supporter, much, much more.

So what is the truth, because so far we have lies and misinformation designed to start a war that fizzled because the people in this area loved our ambassador and loved the people he was with. They mourned him for more than a political talking point to win an election.They mourned him and his people because they were their friends and their hope for peace. We may never know the truth because it is too awful for most of you to contemplate. We may never know the truth because you aren't ready to know it.

What we do know is according to the death certificate after someone managed to actually find the hospital .......and you know how many hospitals these countries have.....why they are on every corner: NOT....he was taken to, he died of SMOKE INHALATION. He wasn't blown to bits or shot multiple times. He died of smoke inhalation while in the company of a Navy Seal, who is trained and retrained to prevent just that. Those dirty Muslims were pulling him to safety from a burning building......er wait a minute...the embassy didn't burn down....huh?

Ah yes, the safe room in the Embassy burned down killing everyone, leaving the embassy in tact, from a fire started by a bunch of bearded men (a real rarity in that area of the world: sarcasm) using diesel fuel which burns really dirty and that's why the Navy Seal couldn't save them.

Look, at this point every good old boy card carrying Klan member in the South with a truck should saying: HUH? For you city folk who have FOX memory syndrome, diesel fuel was promoted as the best alternative to gasoline for two reasons in the 80's. Number one was it was super cheap and number two was, it doesn't burn or explode. To burn diesel fuel you have to have something lit under it. Then it will produce a lot of dirty smoke but you have to keep fanning it and you have to keep the source of the fire burning. Once on its own, it just peters out.

Our intelligence agency can't find an ambassador and his party in a city with a limited number of hospitals and no one can get their hands on the death certificate, issued within hours of him arriving at said hospital, to see that he didn't die from gun shots or explosions but smoke inhalation for weeks. I think we need to fire them, no pun intended.

So what really happened?

You aren't ready for the truth.

The embassy had requested increased security forces at least a week before the "event" because of the rioting and was turned down. Protocol states the turn down had to come from the MILITARY. The Foreign Service, who our ambassadors and embassy staff work for, has no security forces of their own. They are diplomats. The MILITARY provides their security or at least it used to. 

It seems aside from this Navy Seal, who was a friend of the group, the security for them and the embassy was being provided by a private company, i.e. one of the incarnations of Halliburton and Black Water. You remember them. They are VP under Bush, Cheney's old buddies in Iraq that ran the cost of the war up into the billions with their bill alone. These "professional soldiers" make 3 to 10 times what your sons and daughters in uniform make and you pay the bill. They are better equipped and better trained. That's why they make the big bucks or are they?

In this case, these highly paid "security consultants" (sounds so much better than mercenaries and so much more expensive)  consisted of 20 year old kids that hid on the roof claiming large numbers of bearded men communicating with hand signs, scaled the walls and set the safe room on fire while they decided, as a security force, not to even take one shot at this invading force or make any attempt to stop them. Gee, I wonder what they were being paid to do; make up fanciful stories. That one ranks up there with mythical bunnies hopping down the bunny trail...or perhaps a better explanation of their job is to repeat the story they are told. The religious dupes being convinced to die for Allah or Jesus, tend to explode things, scream religious sayings and kill themselves for 15 or more virgins. They don't scale walls, sneak into buildings, set small fires and sneak out again, never claiming credit. So, who does that kind of work? That would be the guys on the roof or our own intelligence agencies that can't find a hospital.

The ambassador killed was bringing peace to the area. One man was in charge of destroying weapons in the area. One man was a leader in the fight for religious freedom in the MILITARY...yes you read that right. He was one of the founding members of a group trying to keep the Evangelic Christian Jihad from taking complete control of the military and throwing every other religious person, Jew, Catholic, Protestant, Baptist, Muslim, Buddhist, Wiccan, Pagan, etc., out of the military and turning  the Military into their little private, well equipped Army of God. Another was a gamer and by definition a nerd who may have also had a few talents at uncovering information on the Net. They were a dangerous group of men but not to the Muslims,
Al-Qaeda or mysterious bearded firebugs that scale walls (do you have any idea how hard it is to climb a concrete wall?) but to a select group of religious extremists in the Military that scream Jeesus at every opportunity and want to make this a Holy War of epic proportions on both foreign and domestic soil.

I told you, you aren't ready for the truth.

So far, this group has flown so far under the radar, like those bearded firebugs, that the average American and possibly the President himself is totally unaware of their existence and influence as they amass both conventional weapons and WMD's with your tax dollars under the guise of the Defense Department/Military to be used on you and the rest of the world.

Now my dear readers do you know why we spend more on our military than the entire world combined in one year? Have you awakened enough to answer the question: who are we defending ourselves against? The answer is simple: YOU. Are these Evangelic Christian Soldiers working for GOD? Not the one in any of your religious texts (and I don't care if you are a Satanist) but they are working for one and they intend to reduce the world's population by 3/4 and you are in that 3/4's. They use candidates that are so addled they don't know the truth from a lie and who are religious extremists of one kind or the other...they don't care which...to do their bidding and if that fails, there is black mail or the promise of riches and power and the ever popular 15 virgins among the really dumb, and for the more intelligent: children for their pleasure and barbie dolls in human form.

They recruit men with delusions of being saviors with 40 pounds of guns, ammo and explosives strapped to their backs  and/or playing soldier in SWAT teams or police uniforms saving the world from evil which seems to be unarmed, often even naked men and old ladies in their nightgowns by pumping them full of 5 or more rounds of hollow points guaranteed to kill. They are the Christian Soldiers that make every Sunday service and kick, taser, tear gas and beat up unarmed protesters that dare to question the banks, big corporations and Wall Street, their employers and real god.

They are in place. They are armed to the teeth. They are crazy as dingbats. They each have a specific group (gay, hippie, female, old, not white, isn't as godly as me, fill in the blank) of people they are ticked off at and want to hurt, rape or kill, AND THEY HAVE THE POWER TO DO SO WITH LEGAL IMMUNITY...under the command of...well...that be the rub, doesn't it. You have no idea who. You've never seen them. You don't know their name. You just know their minions. They are coming out of the woodwork and giving you a taste of the rest of your life....you just aren't paying attention.

See, I told you; you aren't ready for the truth.

Be afraid....be very afraid.

and then VOTE! 

3/4's fighting for their lives (and it is your life you are fighting for) beats 1/4 delusional saviors. 

Numbers always win.

Why am I not afraid to publish this? I know I am already at the top of their list. I have nothing to lose. I am at the end of my life. I have no family to be threatened. Today, ten years from now...my death is inconsequential....but just remember...you can't kill the truth or an idea. It will live on, forever in the minds and/or cyberspace.

Welcome to the New World Order...the real one...not the one on the conspiracy sites...not the world government...not the world currency...not the Federal Reserve...though all may be tools..they are not the HEAD. You have never seen the HEAD. You probably don't want to.