Damn if he does, Damned if he doesn't

For those of you that remember, during the height of the Monica Lewinsky scandal, the U.S. bombed the Al Queda/Bin Laden camp in Afghanistan. The "Right" said (at the time) that this was to distract America from the Lewinsky scandal. The Clinton administration said they did it because nobody was expecting it and therefore they had the element of surprise (you don't have to read The Art of War, to realize how important that is). Whatever the motive, that's what happened.

Now years later, the "Right" is saying Clinton was hamstrung during the Lewinsky scandal and therefore was unable to properly defend America. Not only is this duplicitous revisionist argument stupid it begs the question:

Did those Right Wing smear-mongers, who so fervently pushed the Monica Lewinsky issue in an effort to shame a sitting president, ACTUALLY put our nation in danger?

The Pathway to Independence

ABC is announcing their new docudramedy "The Pathway to Independence" and many people are upset because it seems to be a little loose with the facts. For example, they've managed to flip-flop the roles of France and England. France is now the oppressing empire and England comes to our rescue. Also, if you zoom in on the Declaration of Independence, you can clearly see the signature of somebody named George Washington Bush.

In their defense, some of the changes were made to simply lighten-up the tale of America's birth. The Boston Wine Party scene, for instance, is just down-right hysterical - after the patriots pour the French wine into the Boston harbor, they run around and hit each other over the head with the bottles.

Still, it appears that this Keystone Cop approach to telling the nations story is just not everyone's cup of tea. The ACLU has filed a lawsuit against the producers and the ABC network for defamation of the nation's character. An ABC spokesman was quoted as saying, "What?"

Executive Producer Bob Jones defended his production, "These tweaks of details are minor because the struggle for freedom is the real story here and this includes the struggle from the tyranny of historical fact!" He also explained how the story was embellished, "Even though we worked from a script, there were many times that divine intervention took over. After all, God is the ultimate script doctor."

Depending on the success of "The Pathway..." ABC will decide whether or not to green-light their next project - "Strom Thurmond: A Civil Rights Hero."

Turning Point

Today, folks, I would like to bring in a guest blogger. His name is Cowboy Dreamer and you lefties, progressives and tolerants out there might not appreciate his politics; but let him say his piece (that's "ie" not "ea"):

TURNING POINT by COWBOY DREAMER

The President and his speech writers are saying that due to recent steps forward in Iraq, we've reached a turning-point. This is a new development, people, and we should be proud! Now, there are some hippy peaceniks out there that are going to say, "we've heard this claim of a 'turning point' many times before and 3 turning points in the same direction brings you back to where you started." Well, phooey on those pacifists (or "pussy-fists" as I like to call them), because we haven't had three turning points - it's been more like seven.

Italy has announced that they are taking their troops out of Iraq. Honestly, who really cares about the Coalition of the Unwilling, right? We only asked countries like Italy to help us...out of politeness - kind of like when you're about to bite into a big, juicy sandwich and a friend comes along. Well, of course you're going to offer him a bite or, at the very least, one of your fries. So, if he refuses the offer, we're supposed to stop eating? Fuck that, my food is getting cold!

Britney Spears agrees with me. Well, at least she did when this whole thing started. She too has gone through a turning-point of sorts. Now that she's garnered more respect from America by choosing a superior mate and trading in her wicked money-earning ways to be a dutiful wife & mother, we should remember her words, "Gosh, I think we should support the President in everything he does." It might have had to echo off the walls for three years, but finally, America has heard Britney's words of wisdom and has rushed out to embrace this leader of ours (except for that paltry 71%).

If the liberals would just stop their drug dealings, gay weddings, and flag burnings long enough; they could see the progress were making! I whole heartedly support this President of ours and that's why every time I'm about to hang up the phone, I say, "thank you, Mr. President." Somehow, I believe, he'll hear my message.

ATHEISM IS THE NEW GAY!

Actually, let me clarify:

Atheism is the new Gay...in the Blue States and Purple Cities (a progressive metropolis of a Red State).

In the Red States and especially the South, Atheism isn't even on the table because there, Gay is still the new Nigger.

I hope that clears things up.

TEAM GOD

Outside the Baptist Church of Plano, Texas a large marquee can be read from the road:

TODAY’S SERMON: This Cheek Aint Turnin’!
TONIGHT: Bingo
MOST OF Y’ALL WELCOME

In the back office of the Church, Deacon Tom was busy planning the weekend’s Faith-Fellowship Picnic and Fundraiser. “By raffling off guns donated by the church’s gift store, hopefully we can raise enough money to help impoverished oil company executives” he reminded himself, once again, out loud…with nobody around. He barely had time to wipe away a tear of purpose, before the church filled with the angelic sound of Handel’s Messiah blasting from the speakers.

“Sounds like trouble” said Tom as he ran from the office to the pulpit. Checking to make sure nobody was around, he reached up to the life-size crucifix hanging behind the podium and pressed the nail sticking out of the foot. The crucifix slowly lifted into the rafters and was replaced by a 6 foot plasma television screen. As the image on the screen stabilized, a frantic Pat Robertson came into view.

“Angel-of-Death to Deacon Tom. Come in, Deacon Tom.”

“I’m here,” said Tom.

“It seems like we have another rogue world leader, Tom. His name is Huego Chavez, President of Venezuela?”

Deacon Tom’s face scrunched with confusion, “President of…where?”

“Venezuela. It’s in Central…uh, South America or something - look that’s not important! The point is he wants to use his country’s oil wealth to give back to 'the people.' He wants to upgrade the nation’s infrastructure: highways, ports and schools…secular schools, Tom”

“That bastard!” chimed in Tom hoping it was the right response.

Robertson continued, “According to J.U.D.A.S.* he’s planning to meet with Chief Justice Rumsfeld to see how he can improve the court system in his own country. I want you to gather your team and assasi…I mean, give him his LAST Rites."

“Yes, sir!” said Tom.

The screen faded to black and was, once again, replaced by the crucifix. With his mind racing a mile an hour, Tom went back to the office. After looking up the word “secular” in the dictionary, he began writing out a list:

1. Find out where this Vinny Swella place is
2. Gather the team
3. Find someone to cover my bingo shift

*Justice Under-secretary David Adam Saint



Page 2:


Outside the Plano Middle School the air was filled with music:

“This little light of mine.
I’m gonna let it shine…”

Inside one of the classrooms, Bible-Study Teacher (and twice-born lawyer) Mary Hiers was surrounded by her faithful Fellowship of Christian Athletes. Written on the chalkboard behind her was:

1+ 1+ 1 = God

As she was about to launch into the next verse, her American Flag/Crucifix lapel pin began to blink on and off.

“Jacob, can you finish the song?” she said as she handed him her autoharp. Jacob lead the others as Mary ran to her office and shut the door behind her.

On her desk was a stone carving of the Ten Commandments. After closing the blinds that look into her classroom, she lifted the tablets off their base to reveal a phone with a blinking red light. She answered, “This is Legal Eagle."

* * * * *

Standing outside the Women’s Clinic of Plano there was a group of pro-life protesters. A man (in an obviously fake beard) was holding a sign that read:

DEATH TO PRO CHOICE

His American Flag/Crucifix pin began to blink. He handed his sign to someone else, left the group and headed towards a pay-phone. Looking around to make sure the coast was clear, he put some coins in and dialed a number. “This is Chameleon” he said as he ripped off his fake beard.

* * * * *

In the lounge of the Retired Christ Workers Rest Home there sat a couple of elderly gentleman playing checkers. They were approached by a nurse holding a phone. “It’s for you pastor” she said, handing the receiver to Bob Jones. The nurse and Bob’s checker partner stared at him intensely as he took the call.

“Okay, sure thing” said Bob as he handed the receiver back to the nurse.

“Well?” said the nurse hanging up the phone.

“Looks like tonight..." Bob said while jumping three of his opponent's pieces, "I’m in charge of bingo. Now, King me!”

TO BE CONTINUED

Phase I

“BANG! “
“CLANG!”
“THUNK!”

We were awakened by the sound of metal trash cans thrown down the center of the squad-bay (barracks) - bouncing off the metal posts of our racks (bunks) and in some cases hitting unsuspecting people in the head. This was followed by 3 drill instructors (D.I.s) getting in our faces and yelling at the top of their lungs:

“GET UP, GET UP, GET UP! YOU’RE LATE – LET’S GO! C’MON YOU PUSSIES GET OUT OF YOUR RACK AND STAND AT ATTENTION! MOVE IT, MOVE IT, MOVE IT!”

Waking up in a strange place for the first time with people you hardly know is bad enough, but this had everyone scurrying and tripping over each other. It wasn’t until later that I realized...that was the desired effect.

They told us it was 5:30 a.m. and we had 2 minutes to be fully dressed and back at attention by our racks. They marched us like a mob to the chow-hall continuously berating and yelling at us the entire way. We stood at attention outside the chow-hall for what seemed like hours with no explanation. If anyone moved, there was hell to pay. Turns-out they woke us up at 4 a.m. and just told us it was 5:30 a.m. Since there were no clocks anywhere and nobody was allowed a watch, we were dependant on our D.I.s for the time. Not the "real time" mind you, but Marine Corps time.

That was my first encounter with the brainwashing techniques they used in the First Phase (the first 4 weeks out of 12) of boot-camp. First Phase was all about tearing down the individual to be built up later. They already proved they could fuck with our concept of time, but they didn’t stop there.

After breakfast they marched us back to the squad-bay and told everyone they better go to the head (bathroom) because the next head-call was after lunch. So we all filed into the head to take care of business (whether we needed to or not).

After that we had our first morning exercise session - The Marine Corp Daily Dozen (jumping jacks, push-up, sit-ups and so on). These were led by an instructor standing on an elevated platform surrounded by hundreds of recruits. This was followed by a three mile run. Then we were given instructions on how to polish boots and brass. After lunch we were given a 5 minute time-frame to make head-calls and then it was back out for more instructions and training.

The old saying “you gotta go, when you gotta go” was replaced by “you gotta go, when they let you go.”

For the first few days this was a common scenario:

RECRUIT
Request permission to speak to Senior Drill Instructor Gunnery-Sergeant Harris, SIR!

D.I.
Speak, freak.

RECRUIT
Request permission for a head-call, sir.

D.I.
Denied! Get back in line

If you had to go, you just held it or pissed on yourself (one guy in our unit did).

There was one incident that I will never forget. It was one of our first nights and we were standing at attention waiting for final inspection before “hitting the racks.” Pope, my rack-mate, could not hold it any longer:

POPE
…request permission to make a head call, sir.

D.I.
Denied

POPE
Sir, it’s an EMERGENCY head-call, sir!

D.I.
(zeroing in on Pope):
Really, Pope, an emergency head call? Here’s what I want you to do. Drop down and give me 20 push-ups...AND YOU BETTER NOT PEE ON THE DECK!

POPE
Sir, yes Sir!

The Drill Instructor didn't stop there.

D.I.
Now, run to the other end of the squad-bay. Put your hands in the air and swivel them around like siren lights. Then run to the head making a siren noise the whole way. NOW!”

So, here’s this guy in his underwear, gyrating his hands in the air and screaming like a European ambulance, “Woo-ooo, wooo-ooo…” He ran past all of us standing at attention and disappeared into the head.

Everything went silent.

D.I.
I CAN’T HEAR YOU!

His “siren” started up again and could be heard by all of us (in between grunts and water spalshings).

D.I.
DON’T FORGET TO WASH!

Finally, a very hoarse Pope runs back to his place on the other side of our rack and stops making the siren noise.

D.I.
3, 2, 1 - MOUNT!

Everyone hopped into their racks and the D.I. turned off the light.

D.I.
SLEEP TIGHT, PUSSIES!

After that, nobody had an “emergency” head-call again. After about two weeks of this, everyone’s bathroom cycle had conformed to the allotted times.