When they took the 4th Amendment , I was quiet because I didn't deal drugs.
Now they have taken the 1st Amendment , and I can only be quiet.
– Lyle Myhr
When they took the 6th Amendment , I was quiet because I am innocent.
When they took the 2nd Amendment , I was quiet because I don't own a gun.
It was not my interntion to disappear for three months. So many wonderful events have transpired, and yet I have not had a chance to sit back and savor the moments. I have been a bad, friend, aunt, sister, and daughter, forgetting birthdays, anniversaries, and other special days. I can't even keep up with my e-mail. How hard can it be to reply to someone who is asking if you are still alive? Well, for a person with a verbose style such as myself, it is near impossible.
When I last left off, my site was hijacked by a bunch of racists, who either screamed that I was anti-Semitic for criticizing Israel (never mind that there are more Arab Semites than Jewish Semites, or that the percentage of my Jewish friends and acquaintances has always been exponentially higher than their representation in the national population demographic), or hate groups citing me as a great example of why it is good to hate Jews. I turned the comments off for a while, as I wasn't interested in wasting precious time battling either group of idiots, though let me tell you, there are few things more revolting than seeing an article you wrote praised by a group of Aryan Supremists.
I pretty much abandoned my site after that, spending most of my time getting Sugar Magnolia ready for the Houston Art Cart Parade. The car was covered with assorted metal cats decorated by friends and colleagues. Even a fellow blogger took time to create two gorgeous (and my personal favorites) cats. I felt so honored that I did not have enough cats to pass around to everyone who wanted to decorate one. I liked seeing what my friends came up with. Every cat was unique!
I had a blast driving in the parade. My only regret is that I drive a standard transmission, and I had to drive in first gear for a few hours. That wasn't easy on the clutch or my left leg! My friend, Rebecca, and my next-door neighbor, Valerie (9), rode in the car with me, waving to the crowds. I was surpised by the number of people I knew (and who knew me, though I had no idea who they were!) along the parade route, especially since I have only lived in Houston for a little more than a year.
Almost as much fun as the parade was the Art Car Ball, held the Thursday evening prior to the parade. My cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling all night! The artists were decked out in their finest - fish-nets, tie-dye, vintage ball gowns, and even a woman with an oil funnel bra that could put Madonna to shame. Best of all, I was able to speak with Richard Carter, creator of the famous Billy the Bass Car. My ego was raised when this man, considered the reigning King of the Art Car World by fellow Art Car enthusiasts, mentioned that he knew of my art car plans and had seen this site!
Yes, someday I will resize the gazillion photos of the parade and post them for the world to see. Before I do that, my mom would probably like me to post our Ireland vacation photos. I took my to Ireland last May, driving us both around the Southwestern countryside for nine days. Driving on the left (even with my loquacious and map-dyslexic mother as my companion) was not as difficult as I had feared. In fact, it was a breeze. I played the typical tourist with a camera, stopping every few minutes to snap yet another picture of sheep or cows grazing in lush green pastures.
The sad part of the trip was that I will never enjoy a Guiness Stout again unless sipped in Ireland. It's true - Guinness does not travel well. There is nothing that compares favorably to a pint of Guiness served in Ireland.
We met lots of interesting people - locals and fellow travelers. The highlight of my vacation was the two nights I spent in Dingle. About one in the morning on my first night in town, I heard fabulous blues music in between the brief pauses of my mother's LOUD snores. I crept downstairs in my pajamas, planning to poke my head out the door to see which bar the music was coming from. It was coming from Robbie, the caretaker, and another guest, who were jamming in the breakfast room of the B&B. (As an aside, I believe that Ireland is the B&B capitol of the world. Now back to our scheduled program.) I sat on the stairs for a while, listening to Muddy Waters and Eric Clapton for a while. After a few songs, vanity disappeared and I crept in the breakfast room and sat on the floor - in my pajamas (which at least looked elegant) and with messy bedhead hair (which did not look elegant). After they finished the next song, they apologized for waking me up (they didn't - it was the time difference) and started with the personal; questions. When I answered my patented response of, "I am from Texas, but please don't hold the fact that I share the same state with the biggest loser on the planet against me," the guest, whose name I have forgotten but whose voice will always remain with me, replied that a great man came from Texas, too. "You must be talking about Stevie Ray Vaughn," I said, and he grasped my hands with both of his and beamed like a madman, which he might have been, but a friendly one. I think he wanted to marry me. Naturally, they played some Stevie Ray, followed by some Dylan (which sounded a whole lot better than the actual Dylan) and another hour of kick ass blues.
Robbie told me the next evening he would take my mom and I out to hear the local music scene. Well, dinner was a three-hour affair, and by 1 a.m. the next night, the only music we had heard was the background music of the Italian restaurant. Robbie called up his friends and after dropping mom off at the B&B, we went to a little Mediterranean restaurant (closed hours ago), where some local musicians hung out and jammed all night. Two brothers played the flute and guitar, providing most of the entertainment for the twelve of us crammed around two tables. The music was fun, heart-wrenching, and everything in between. What a fantastic jam session. I left at 4 a.m., unable to stay awake any longer, though I found out the next morning that everyone else had stayed until 6 a.m.
The rest of the trip was fun, beautiful, and exciting, but my fondest memories are of Dingle.
When I was not working on the art car or planning my trip, I was creating art in Rice Village. I met an amazing woman, a soul sister if you will, through my husband. We clicked instantly, and she hired me to mosaic her very large kitchen backsplash with Russian Gel (china). Before I finished, I had also painted her living room, kitchen, guest bathroom ceiling, daughter's bathroom and mosaiced a double sink bathroom vanity with cobalt blue, purple and turquoise stained glass. We have spent so much time together, including overnight trips to her farm that our friendship feels as if we have known each other for years. She is thirteen years older, but I think of her as my age. I feel bad because while I was in the throws of new friend infatuation, I was neglecting my other friends. I worked some long hours on that project, and most nights I couldn't even stay awake long enough to check my e-mail.
In the few moments I had to spare, I redesigned <strong>karmaKATdesigns, teaching myself some Java and HTML to build my own shopping cart program from scratch. I added more images and galleries, as well as thumbnail pages for the Purchase section. Naturally, I made several mistakes along the way, necessitating the elimination or reconfiguration of certain lines of code. My site is huge (would you expect anything less, dear friends?), so updating took several long days thanks to a defect in my web host's program. Of course, I have already come up with an even better design, but it will be a few months before I tackle that project again.
I am one of the new sponsors of What Really Happened, a news blog devoted to discovering the truth behind government lies. It is kind of heady seeing my banner when I visit the site. (It is one of eight on rotation.)
I suppose this is a decent enough segue to the politics portion of the subject header. I have actually been in a news vacuum for most of the spring and summer due to time constraints, as it is more of the same and all too depressing.
I am worried about September. On so many levels it could a disaster. I don't know where or what might happen, only that it will a.) benefit Israel, b.) enrich defense contractors, and c.) Within minutes of whatever attack occurs (be it in September or a few months later), Iran, Syria or Saudi Arabia will be blamed for harboring Al CIAda terrorists and the bombing campaign will start all over. The United States is planning for war, both domestic and international. The signs are everywhere, and yet so many Americans prefer to bury their head in the sand. I know people who despise the entire country of Germany for allowing Hitler to rise to power, and yet these very same individuals view the current political situation in the United States through rose-colored glasses, chastising anyone who criticizes the Bush cabal or the war in Iraq as “traitors.” (I did find a creative solution to those utter false rhetoric that we were attacked because of “our freedoms” - or shopping malls – by asking them to name to name the amendments to the Constitution and state the Constitutional authority used by the government to force its might on the rest of the world. That stops the stream of rubbish by the naïve flag waver in an instant.)
A friend and I were discussing politics the other day. My friend said he had learned to be more restrained (and diplomatic) when speaking around others. I, on the other hand, salivate for the opportunity to toss in my few dollars worth of analysis anytime I hear someone utter a phrase in defense of Bush, Cheney, Powell, Iraq, Afghanistan, the Patriot Act or any other feculent person or situation that is destroying humanity. I figure it’s fair game. Why should they not be rebuked? I fully believe in individual rights. I don’t care if people believe in Zeus, Santa Claus or that the world is flat, provided their ideas do not impact my life. But anyone who dares suggest that their God directs Bush in his faux war on terror or that my INALIENABLE HUMAN RIGHT to exist on this planet as an individual should be abridged in favor of government subjugation by a group of corrupt tyrants will hear a loud voice from my direction – as they should. Each time you allow someone else to think or act for you, the deeper you dig your own grave like a good little slave.
Government does not grant you rights. You are born unto a planet, not a country. You are not an American, German, or Philippino – you are a human being who happens to live within some man-made imaginary border that means absolutely nothing to the cosmos. God does not love America and more than God loves Iraq or England or Israel. God isn’t a fucking nationalist and it incenses me that people are too stupid to see that only a twisted, psychotic Supreme Being would get off watching humankind find ways to brutally destroy each other and the planet on which they live, all in the name of “god.” A Supreme Being possessing intellect greater than our own would surely know that humans cannot live in harmony as long as violence is used. The slave becomes the master and it never ends.
Religion is a short-cut to thinking. It is not about spirituality – it is about control of the masses. Some have argued that Christianity wouldn’t have survived this long if it wasn’t the real thing, but the church exercised control by not allowing anyone but wealthy (or nubile) males to have an education, and the church controlled what was taught. If you spoke against this, you were burned at the stake. And these priests, reverends, ministers, rabbis, clerics and whatnot call themselves spiritual leaders? Yet throughout history, billions have willingly succumbed to their lies, serving as canon-fodder for a bunch of emotionally impotent men (and a few women). I suppose the current politics should come as no surprise coming from a nation that was founded after the Holocaust of the Indian Nations. A group of men, lead by “god”, conquered the Americas, torturing, raping and killing the native population and then using the discarded bodies of the dead to feed the hunting dogs. Upon entering their land, Columbus read a proclamation in Spanish which they had no hope of understanding. He told the natives:
“I certify to you that, with the help of God, we shall powerfully enter into your country, and shall make war against you in all ways and manners that we can, and shall subject you to the yoke and obedience of the Church and of their highnesses; we shall take you, and your wives, and your children, and shall make slaves of them, and as such shall sell and dispose of them as their highnesses may command; and we shall take away your goods, and shall do you all the mischief and damage that we can, as to vassals who do not obey, and refuse to receive their lord, and resist and contradict him; and we protest that the deaths and losses which shall accrue from this are your fault, and not that of their highnesses, or ours, nor of these cavaliers who come with us…”
Evidently “god” gets off on genocide, because that is what happened. When The Spaniards were done killing off the natives, then the religious zealots - who were granted religious freedom by the Dutch but they didn’t want to pay the high taxes, so they moved across the Atlantic – took over. We had the witch-hunts, a lovely little episode in our history. It was an excuse for lecherous old men to fondle young, naked girls to test for their “virginity.” It was a way for ugly women to eliminate the competition, naming the pretty girl a witch. It’s just a form of control, all condoned by God, apparently, as the same deity accused of striking down children who mocked a bald man sat silent through these murders.
I don’t care if people want to believe in the Bible. I have deeply religious friends of all faiths and denominations, some of whom border on fundamentalism. They are good people, but it is not their religion that makes them that way. They would be just as wonderful, pure, and dear if they worshipped another faith – or none at all. I like them for how they live their lives and how they treat other beings. Ilike their gbeautiful natures - and that they accept me for who I am without judgment, despite our wildly different points of view. The Golden Rule is merely common sense, an idea acknowledged (and subsequently ignored) long before the formation of Christianity. I do have a problem with hypocrites, those who claim to be good by nature of their chosen deity, and yet violate their scriptures, such as “THOU SHALL NOT KILL.” Well, God makes exceptions, you know, whispering directions to the latest savior du jour to enslave a population and steal its resources. God works in mysterious ways.
My problem with religions (like I haven’t listed a few of my concerns already) are the followers who refuse to accept the less than noble behavior on the part of the church in the past. What about the crusades? And the children’s crusades? What about the false claims that God wanted a segment of one population to kill a segment of another population? (Never did figure why he didn't take a stand for one side during the Reformation, especially oinlight of the strict commandements to obey his every word.) What about the rape, incest, homosexuality, torture and murder condoned by assorted Popes and other clergy types? If you are going to embrace a concept, then you must accept the history and consequences of the actions of those who preach the belief system. And in that, when one who calls himself a Christian (and I am only picking on Christianity because it is the religion I am most familiar with), does that not imply he accepts embraces the methods leading to historical "enlightenment"? Why does being a Christian only mean goodness? And if it is about accepting the teachings of Christ, than how can so many liars, thieves, rapists and thugs call themselves Christian without condemnation from the church or the flock? Why is it those with the most sordid histories claim to be the most moral? And what do claims of a Judeo-Christian nation mean? Did Christ teach how-to lesons on genocide?
I have long believed that religious sects are no more than a creation of a Middle Class. A Middle Class is essential for political control. Keep them satisfied in some manner and give them little clout over the slaves and the masses will be content. The churchgoers of the past were the Middle Class. The non-believers, pagans, or those with a competing form of Christianity were not God’s special children, and therefore they could be treated as slaves to the Middle Class. We’re told religions is about teaching love, but religion (as opposed to spirituality) exists to divide. Each religion tells it followers they are the chosen ones. You will rot in hell if you do not take Jesus Christ as your personal savior. You will rot in hell if you are not christened or baptized. You must only reproduce with other brainwashed folks, so you may not marry persons of other faith. Everyone goes around with a smug little grin – “My god is better than yours,” they think, while killing each other because god blesses America and wants us to kill and poison the Iraqi population otherwise he would not have ordained King George.
There are days that I believe in my heart that the concept of the Matrix is real, that what we believe to be reality is a software program designed by MicroSoft, hence the constant malfunctions. How can we keep killing? How can we justify crippling humanity so that a handful of Blue Blood inbreds control the world? How is it that with more information at our fingertips, our population grows dumber each day?
“They are jealous of our freedoms.” What freedom? The ability to “Supersize” a fast food meal? Satellite television with four hundred channels and nothing worthwhile to watch? Is that freedom? No, freedom is the ability to chose how to live your own life, regardless of the consequences. There is no freedom in the United States. It is an Orwellian animal farm, with former KGB deputies on the government payroll helping to design Homeland (I despise that word, for in all of its historical connotations – the Fatherland, the Motherland – it represents tyranny and nationalism) Security policy. The population is not allowed to choose a President. These men have been preselected by the ruling elite. Do you know what the non-Democratic/Republican candidates have to say? Of course not. Do you know what all of the Democratic candidates had to say? Not if your only source of news is from the mainstream media. Is that freedom? Is it freedom when a wealthy cokehead alcoholic Born Again lies, cheats and steals his way to the Presidency? What are you going to do about it?
“Vote for Kerry,” people say. “Anybody but Bush.” If your choice is between Hitler and Mussolini and you vote for Mussolini, then you are still a slave. So what if you vote for Ralph Nadar, or a Libertarian candidate, or yourself? Do not listen to the psychotic Democrats who blast those who vote their conscience instead of the lesser of two evils. You vote for the lesser of two evils and it is still evil.
It does not matter who is President because we will still have a draft so we can go to war of Ariel Sharon and company like good little slaves. We are at the point where we don’t even need the Vaseline. Whatever you say, Massah – more, more, more money and weapons to sustain a tyrannical theocracy. It’s the American way, after all.
If there is an election - and I believe short of a catastrophic WTC/Pentagon-type attack there will be an election, then Kerry will win, even with a greatly rigged system. The smoke and mirrors hiding the coming economic meltdown cannot sustain another four years of Bush, and the powers that be want to keep the economic charade going until they have scooped up every last resource. (Why is it that we care more about soap operas and if Brad and Jen have a baby than the lives of the most influential people on the planet? Why doesn’t the paparazzi flock to the Bilderberg conference?) Everyone from Nobel economists to members of the Bush administration have complained about the guy and will not vote for him. Regardless of the fabricated numbers touted by the press whores, any win would surely be suspicious, and if he won, there would be massive civil unrest. At this point Bush has pissed off the vast majority of the National Guard slaving away in Iraq on behalf of the friends of the effeminate little psycho sitting in office to the point that a Bush “win” would ensure that the military enter 1600 Pennsylvania with an arrest warrant.
There has been a drastic and sudden increase in the M3 money supply (money to keep the stock market liquid in the event of a crash), while the M1 and M2 supplies are contracting. This increase in the M3 supply implies that Greenspan foresees a major negative economic event in the near future. The surge in the money supply allows major investors to rid their books of dangerous derivatives positions, estimated at $12 trillion. Too much of an increase in the money supply will provoke an inflationary spiral. There are a record number of short positions on US Treasury bonds, indicating speculation of a huge inflationary spike. The US debt service to budgetary ratio exceeds that of Caesar’s Empire in the final days. We can no longer print oodles of cash to create an inflationary cycle to monetize debt so that we can service the debt at a lower rate (as we did in the 80’s) because we cannot create enough additional value of production in our service-based economy that can provide the tax revenue necessary to service the debt. We are broke, hence he need for a Pearl Harbor-like attack to serve as a scapegoat rather than expose the lies of those who claimed they were fiscally conservative businessmen. What does that mean if they allow the world economy to collapse?
Well, they shouldn’t fret too much, as millions bestow praise on Donakld Trump, a man who is always a gavel away from bankruptcy.
Bush won’t win. I’ll be surprised if he makes it through office. Preferably he’ll be arrested for treason soon, but the same people in Congress who voted to impeach Clinton for lying about something that had nothing to do with the Whitewater real estate deal, proudly spending $70 million dollars and tens of thousands of man hours to force a President on the witness stand to answer questions about his sex life knowing he would probably lie (as most people would in that situation) have remained suspiciously silent regarding the atrocities committed by the Bush administration. Lying to start two wars and suspending the Constitution – I believe those to be acts of treason. But those who voted for the Patriot Act and for the Iraq and Afghanistan are just as guilty.
We have two mediocre candidates for President, a man who measures success by how quickly he can cash in on lucrative insider trading deals before leaving investors high and dry (why do Republicans consider this man fiscally conservative?) and a man who has done nothing but sponge off the taxpayer for thirty years, turning the other cheek at George H.W. Bush’s drug running activities in the Iran-Contra affair.
This is why Kerry is the perfect candidate for Bush. He kept Bush out of federal prison by refusing to acknowledge damning evidence implicating the former Vice President and then current President. Bill Clinton conveniently looked the other way, too. I would have thought he would have used it to stop the Whitewater investigation, though interestingly enough, the planes involved in the drug-cash-weapons swap landed in Mena, Arkansas, and as Governor, Clinton knew about the landings according to witnesses. The cover-up will continue.
And I still keep thinking there is something about Powell. I have had a feeling for several years that he would be the President in January 2005, though not necessarily elected.
So what will be different under a Kerry Presidency? He voted for the Patriot Act and the war in Iraq. Hans Blix said there were no weapons of mass destruction, as did Scott Ritter. Who would know better than the head of the UN Weapon Inspection Team? And what about Ritter stating that he was told to lie about his findings? People were phoning his office and sending faxes regarding the fabricated Niger claims and the plagiarized verbatim master’s thesis written in 1991 used by the Brits as key evidence for pre-emptive military action against Iraq. The same man who coordinated the delivery of biological and chemical weapons to Hussein in the 80’s is now directing the war against Hussein twenty years later. I’m sorry, but this just freaks me out! And John Kerry knew the evidence was fabricated. How could he not? So where does a Kerry presidency leave you? Reality is that we will not be better off four years from now. It does not have to be that way, but to suggest otherwise is deemed utopian by slaves who sold out their votes for the lesser of two evils. If you envision peace, you are deemed a flake. I cannot count how many times I have had some armchair warrior tell me why war is good for the US economy, or just assume that because I am a creative type I must not know anything about warfare. Well, I get pissed off because while I may go off on tangents on rare occasions, I feel I can hold my own on war tactics. Just on one shelf, my list of books contains titles like:
Force without War
US National Security: A Framework for Analysis
Deterrence in Foreign Policy
Political Risk Assessment
Intelligence: Policy and Process
Spy Game: Winning through Super Technology
National Security Policy Formation
Strategic Military Surprise
Diplomacy of Power
Détente and Confrontation
Contemporary Strategy
The Use of Force
American National Security
The Nuclear reader
SR-71 Revealed
These are just a few of the titles on one shelf. All but Spy Game were required reading during my graduate coursework. The sole reason for my IR concentration in Strategic Studies was the course offerings in Berlin. The overseas programs were geared for the military and diplomatic corp. When in Rome… My circle of friends and acquaintances was quite impressive for a 21 year-old. My professors worked for the UN, European Universities, and the diplomatic corp. There were no TAs, no publish or perish types. Not only did I study the field, I worked right in the middle of it. I dined in Einstein’s old haunts several times a week. I sat on subways next to men and women with blue tattoos on the backs of their hands. I passed by buildings pockmarked by bullet holes. I had to have special papers to pass through the walled city. I visited East Berlin quite often, taking advantage of the black market currency to indulge in five-star restaurants, theater, ballet, and opera. A lot of Americans went over to buy cheap and horribly constructed feather bedding, but I went for the food. For five dollars a person, including a fifty percent tip, we indulged in aperitifs, appetizers, filet mignon, cherries flambé, and a lot of alcohol. Those were the salad days.
I am not naïve. In the end I learned that Sun Tzu knew more about warfare than any of the other theorists I had read, and that war is stupid and can always be avoided if peace is truly desired. And that line warfare is just an all-around terrible strategic move. I cannot help but think warfare is more often a tool of population control, a living chess game wasting the lives of innocent pawns. Why would you line up a hundred men in a tight row and take turns shooting at each other? There are so many more creative ways to harass and destroy your enemies without resulting in violent death, and yet today the bulk of our forces are still trained in this trench warfare mentality. I think of Pentagon planners much like Dana Carvey’s “And that’s the way we liked it” old man character. And that is what gets troops killed. A small guerilla army can easily overcome conventional forces, as does hundeds of billions of dollars worth of bureacracy.
Well, I have ranted for several pages and I didn’t even get to the good part: my buy one/get one for $1,600 cat!
I turned on the tears and Rob consented to adopting two cats. The new additions to the family are Richmond, an 8 year-old Maine Coon cat, and Callie, a 9 year-old with a tortoise shell for a mother and an orange tabby for a father. They came from the same household. We did not name them and apologize for their unoriginal names. I want to call Richmond “Einstein”, as he has these funky tufts of hair protruding from the sides of his head. He looks like an eccentric professor. And he’s very sneaky and too smart for his toys. Callie is just as sweet as can be, loves attention (they both do) and underwent exploratory surgery a mere there weeks after we adopted her. Sixteen hundred dollars later and we still do not know what made her intestines swell with gas, but we have eliminated a host of conditions through x-rays, ultrasounds, testing, and surgery. Poor thing was acting like she was having an asthma attack, gulping in air, foaming at the mouth, but she couldn’t pass the air through her lower regions. Let me tell you when she finally did a week later, we passed tears of something other than joy, as the smell coming from her ass almost required us to call the HazMat team to the house. We spent a week of daily and sometimes overnight visits to the vet, and several more days trying to force food into her mouth, as she had become emaciated. She is the sweetest cat in the world and a little piglet when presented with Whiskas Temptations, but trying to force food, liquids and medicines down her throat was a horrible experience. Our vet said we would probably do a better job, but we each had an infected finger thanks to her attempts to stop us from keeping her alive.
I am such a terrible parent. I haven’t even taken a decent photo to upload, yet I have hundreds and hundreds of photos of Vanderbilt and Midnight. Poor Vladimir, I only took digital photos of him. And now I have a couple of bad photos of my babies. My friend, Marc, says it is the same as humans. The novelty dies off after a while, and by the time the last kid comes around, you realize you’ve taken a dozen pictures in as many years. I will upload their pictures soon! (I don’t want to take taking pictures of my kitty who was shaved in four areas, including her cute belly.)
The cats adore us and snuggle all the time. We are having fun watching their personalities come to life the more comfortable they get in the home. Richmond didn’t talk for three weeks. Now he meows all the time, a high-pitched noise that sounds like a creaky machine part. It’s very strange. Callie never shuts up (save when she was sick). She talks and purrs like a chainsaw. And her favorite thing to do is rub up against Rob after he has been jogging. She loves his sweat. She even hunts for sweaty gym shirts in the laundry pile, specifically the gray mesh which seems to hold the most scent. She rubs the shirt all over her face, then rolls around it like a dog on a dead fish. It is not the most desirable smell on a cat. Last night she slept on his leather shoes. She actually groaned with pleasure as she rested her head inside the shoe. She doesn’t do this to me, though she prefers to sleep near me at night (when she is not sleeping on the shoes or sweaty shirts). Lucky me. When she isn’t passing gas, she smells like my sweaty husband. She is the stinky $1,600 cat.
Many pages ago I mentioned talking about politics with a friend. He said he wanted to stop focusing so much time on politics because it was so all-consuming. It’s true. I could rant for a hundred more pages and still not release all of my frustrations. I want to change my blog, or the things I write about, and yet I am so fascinated by the subject that I don’t know if I can pull myself away. Just a few paragraphs about my kitties and dozens on why I dislike our government representatives. Maybe it’s ego, wanting to forecast so I can say, “I told you so,” to the naysayers. Mostly, it is cathartic, knowing that regardless if anyone ever makes it to this point, I spoke my mind without fear. That is a true sign of freedom. And that is enough for me at this moment. I need to play with my cats.
Lyrics from Corporate Avenger's "War Is Good"
It's like the powers that be have totally outlawed living the natural way, the way we were meant to live. You know if you wanna hunt or you wanna fish you know you gotta be on land. And if your some where on land you're trespassing against someone these days and they'll put you in jail. So if you wanna hunt, or fish you gotta have a license, and in order to get a license you gotta work. And when you work they take a portion of your pay, the sweat off your back and funnel it towards their military machine of killing and death and sorrows.Not a child of Adam and Eve
I don't need to believe in the wrongs from rights
In your schools and in your brains
You're so insane you claim you're right
You say war is good, and war is right
Another mother cries tonight alrightA killer, you keep working, and working, and working and they keep
taking, and taking, and taking. They'll throw you a few little crumbs
they'll give you a home, a car, a television, a vacation. Someday you
may even have a bank account that you're scared to lose.You steal the sweat right off my back
You load me up with lies not facts
Still you do not answer for five hundred years of lies and sorrow
You say war is good, and war is right
Another mother cries tonight
War is good, war is fun
Steal my money build your gunsIt's like you never really own anything, you're just holding onto it.
'Cause when you die the government comes and takes away half of
what you worked for, even though they already taxed you for a large
percentage. They funnel all that money to their coffers, which go
mostly to weapons of destruction. As the metal burns and the powder
catches on fire destroying the sacred lights of human beings who were
put on this Earth to grow together in a sacred manner. It's all a bunch
of bullshit actually.Take it to another level.
War is good, war is right
Another child cries tonight
War is right, war is good
Until it's in your neighborhood
War is good, war is right
Another father dies tonight
War is right, war is fun
Steal my money build your guns
Take it to another level
