...Demons, Crying Demons...

...affinity groups...

Show-Animals

".....Very few of us are fortunate enough to have a bona fide courtesan occupying our beds, and most of us wouldn't like the idea of sharing her, anyway. So we'll have to settle for the next best thing, which consists of training that delightful, over-educated all-American doll we picked up, to be the private courtesan and beautiful show-animal a real man has some use for.

With a pure-bred dog one begins training it when it's a puppy--using a combination of commands, love, punishment and reward to set up the sort of conditioned reflexes--obedience, if you will--which is so essential in a good dog.

Women, however, are not dogs. They're more like horses. Wild horses. And like a yearling which has grown through her colthood on the range, the average doll must first be broken to the saddle before love, punishment and reward can have any effect......"

circa 1961

Madonna-Whore Complex

Remember Men

And Wizards

Inside Every Madonna

Is a Whore

Just Waiting to Come Out

Gentleman, Start Your Engines.

Suicidal Terrorist Kills 3000!

I am referring, of course, to the Biblical story of Samson in the Book of Judges. Samson, who the Philistines called a terrorist, was captured by them using his lover Delilah as honey-trap, in a ruse reminiscent of the capture of the nuclear whistle-blower Mordechai Vanunu using an attractive Mossad agent, but I get ahead of myself.
This is how Samson's story ends (Judges XVI, 21-30):

But the Philistines took him, and put out his eyes, and brought him down to Gaza, and bound him with fetters of brass; and he did grind in the prison house. ... Then the lords of the Philistines gathered them together for to offer a great sacrifice unto Dagon their god, and to rejoice: for they said, Our god hath delivered Samson our enemy into our hand. And when the people saw him, they praised their god: for they said, Our god hath delivered into our hands our enemy, and the destroyer of our country, which slew many of us. And it came to pass, when their hearts were merry, that they said, Call for Samson, that he may make us sport. And they called for Samson out of the prison house; and he made them sport: and they set him between the pillars. And Samson said unto the lad that held him by the hand, Suffer me that I may feel the pillars whereupon the house standeth, that I may lean upon them. Now the house was full of men and women; and all the lords of the Philistines [were] there; and [there were] upon the roof about three thousand men and women, that beheld while Samson made sport. And Samson called unto the LORD, and said, O Lord GOD, remember me, I pray thee, and strengthen me, I pray thee, only this once, O God, that I may be at once avenged of the Philistines for my two eyes. And Samson took hold of the two middle pillars upon which the house stood, and on which it was borne up, of the one with his right hand, and of the other with his left. And Samson said, Let me die with the Philistines. And he bowed himself with [all his] might; and the house fell upon the lords, and upon all the people that [were] therein. So the dead which he slew at his death were more than [they] which he slew in his life.

It is important to point out the positive attitude the Judeo-Christian tradition places on this extreme act. The killing of 3000 men, women and children, including the poor lad who tended to him, by a blinded and humiliated Samson, is taught approvingly to present-day Israeli children, where the protagonist is conventionally referred to as "Samson the Hero," or Shimshon Haggibor.

I don't know what started the feud between the Israelites and the Philistines, but I could bet it was over land. What ever became of an eye for an eye? Such disproportionality was again on display in Lebanon last summer. I am struck by the symbolism of the Trade Towers as surrogates for the two columns, with the astounding match to both death tolls. I'll leave you with some first-person Samson doggerel

O dearly-bought revenge, yet glorious!
Living or dying though hast fulfill'd
The work for which thou wast foretold
To Israel, and now ly'st victorious
Among thy slain, self-killed;
Not willingly, but tangled in the fold
Of dire necessity, whose law in death conjoin'd
Thee with thy slaughtered foes, in number
Than all thy life hath slain before.

If this be war, then let us make the most of it.

Chase Bank: Did We Dodge a Patriot Act Missile?

Or maybe just a bullet? Now anybody stop me if I start displaying signs of paranoia disproportionate to my station in life.

At the bank a while back, I picked up some non-personalized deposit slips. When I went to use one for the first time, I noticed it asked for my "Social Security No./ Tax I.D. No." A new request for privileged information that threatened to treat it more than casually.
This seemed odd. Even I knew only whisper the last four of my sacred identity digits. When I next went in with a deposit, I mentioned to the teller that I hadn't filled it in but had ignored it on purpose, and I must say, she overreacted in quite a fluster, saying they were a misprint, she scratched the line out vigorously with her pen, and gave me a handful of replacements. Chase Bank


But I notice, the replacement slips aren't redesigned, they just removed the request for SS numbers and waste all the space in the line. This doesn't suggest a misprint to me, but rather a formal redesign took place necessitated by a policy change requesting the new information. The slips are dated with the revisions, the one requesting social security number says Rev. (01/05), with the newer version saying (Rev. 08/06)

I don't know why, but I have a feeling we barely dodged some fascist plot here. Maybe somebody who shall go nameless got a little bit ahead of himself in the reality creating business. Not wanting to think about it too much, what other changes would have to occur if as a matter of policy, our social security numbers became worthless for identity theft? We would need some other system, like iris recognition wouldn't we?

To worship or defy God, as I understand him, is my birthright as a citizen of the United States. I was raised without an awareness, one way or the other, that I'm not a Bishop, or if I am a Prince. That's what an Iowa public education offered in the era, and I imagine they do the same today. I had to learn the truth of those matters the hard way, and it's too bad the American attitude of, "any boy can grow up to be President." will need to be seriously reexamined in the aftermath of the Bush Presidency--the one boy in 300 million that should have been spotted and steered to safe harbor long ago.

I remind myself, the people hurting most in America right now are the former fans and allies of George Bush, for whom everything has gone wrong. Especially those caught up in Iraq, in a near impossible dynamic. Bush could pull something satisfactory out of the hat. He would need to go to the Iraqi people and level with them. It's all about divvying up the oil money, and Bush will need to lose money on the deal, like he's lost on every deal he's ever made, and they knew it to begin with. So rather than surge, so plain and humdrum this time of year, I suggest Bush sticks with a tried winner, Dior's 1947, the New Look--by looking people in the eye, especially the Iraqi people, straight in the eye, and make a deal, it's not like he has ever paid the consequences before. Maybe that's what God wants.

Occasionally I share someone else's connection with their higher power, one that feels distinctly different than mine, sort of like when George Bush hugged James Brown. When I'm trying to be helpful, or be of service somehow, I'm provided with the perfect cover. God has trained me pretty well in these matters. He wants me out of doors everyday to experience what we've created together, alone from His other creations is a fine option, but I can't shirk opportunity to face outwards towards others, and he tasks me viciously to test my willingness. Am I willing to drive someone less fortunate to the hospital or the airport? If I say yes quickly enough, I often get an eleventh-hour reprieve. I can't divorce any part of me off, even for a Saturday night. He has to come along, wherever I go. He seems to enjoy himself as often as I do. I certainly wouldn't try to achieve some goal I thought He might like, by using a means I know He wouldn't. The world is a safe place, not an oyster exactly, but not filled with hungry sharks either. So I try not to judge. Some people are just pigs, and that's OK by me.

Stick a Ribbon on your SUV!

An absolutely hilarious song with biting satirical lyrics sending up those whose fundamentalist pro-life, yet pro-Iraqi-war beliefs leads them to support our troops with a display of car magnets. At least send them a calling card.

God help them. Ignorance is bliss.

Saddam Exchanged Taunts Before Hanging

By STEVEN R. HURST, Associated Press Writer

"New video, first broadcast by Al-Jazeera satellite television early Sunday, had sound of someone in the group praising the founder of the Shiite Dawa Party, who was executed in 1980 along with his sister by Saddam.

Saddam appeared to smile at those taunting him from below the gallows. He said they were not showing manhood.

Then Saddam began reciting the "Shahada," a Muslim prayer that says there is no god but God and Muhammad is his messenger, according to an unabridged copy of the same tape, apparently shot with a camera phone and posted on a Web site.

Saddam made it to midway through his second reitation of the verse. His last word was Muhammad.

The floor dropped out of the gallows.

"The tyrant has fallen," someone in the group of onlookers shouted. The video showed a close-up of Saddam's face as he swung from the rope.

Then came another voice: "Let him swing for three minutes." "


Blogs of War has the video! Via cell phone from an undisclosed location!

American-style Family Values

Saddam Hussein's family (clockwise from top L), son-in-law Saddam Kamel and daughter Rana, son Qusay and daughter-in-law Sahar, daughter Ragda and son-in-law Hussein Kamal, son Uday, daughter Hala, Saddam Hussein and his first wife Sajda Kher Ala


Why was Saddam executed on Eid al-Adha, "the Feast of Sacrifice," which Muslims celebrate to commemorate Prophet Ibrahim's willingness to obey Allah, by sacrificing his son, Ismail? It's not as though the powers-that-be were unaware





The Eid stamp commemorates the two most important festivals—or eids—in the Islamic calendar. On these days, Muslims wish each other Eid mubarak, the phrase featured in Islamic calligraphy on the stamp. Eid mubarak translates literally as blessed festival, and can be paraphrased as May your religious holiday be blessed. This stamp is part of the Holiday Celebrations series."

Isn't it odd how alike the terms eids and IED's are? Or that the three western religions that are at odds or eids share the same ancestral father? Even worse, share a God who, supposedly, would demand of a father a test of obedience like this?

U.S. Soldiers Taunt Iraqi Kids with Water Bottle: "I love You!"

U.S. Soldiers Taunt Iraqi Kids with Water Bottle: "I love You!"

U.S. soldiers "Giggles Bloodletter" and Master Sargent Videographer "al-Fred Hitch m'Cock," let off a little steam during a trying open-air Baghdad driveby, avoiding roadside bombs and Juba the Sniper, in teasing some little kids with a tempting half-empty plastic bottle of store-brand water. But like Oxycotin-addict Rush "Fatso" Limpbough said of the Abu Gharib guards who were just having a little frat-house fun with the naked P.O.W.'s in their care, everybody overreacts, assuming the worst about our men in buff, with drab accents. Why can't they take a joke, they ask? Maybe because this is the truth:

Amid a breakdown in infrastructure, families in Umm Qasr fill any available vessel with potable water. Children yell the few English words they know: "I love you! I love you! Water? Water?"

(Baltimore Sun photo by Elizabeth Malby)

April 9, 2003

http://www.baltimoresun.com/media/photo/2003-04/7353473.jpg

Does everybody get it, AMERICA???

Sigmund Freud is Spinning in his Grave.

If this rotor was from a 757 jet engine it would be nine feet in diameter. It looks to be about the same size as this man's inseam (the length from his crotch to his heel,) maybe 38 inches. Not that I'm trying to draw attention to his inseam, mind you.


This compares Penny Elges's Dodge Neon with a 757 jet. Remember to account for perspective! The car is closer to the camera so it looks bigger than it actually is!


Photographers turn away from the jet engine's blast of Air Force One as it leaves Sarasota Bradenton International Airport on September 11, 2001. Photograph courtesy Sarasota Herald-Tribune, Mike Diemer.

Cheney Gets A Gift ------May it Keep On Giving

I always thought the picture below looked so unreal. The crisp starched cuff, the tucked-in shirt,the showy watch, the manicured thumbnail--the overall headlessness of it. Lots of Pentagon attack photos were created in advance of September 11, which led to some reconciliation and continuity issues, and goes a long way in explaining the lack of focus displayed by the participants. Many government employees had to be in on the "war games." Keeping secrets is a skill but keeping this secret is soul deadening .

So easy to keep them occupied. Just wind them up and point them in the right direction and let them mug. It's all just windowdressing anyway.

This ideological overreaching has exposed the unholy alliance.
Now it's God's turn. Fasten your seat belts.
We're in for a bumpy eride!

Should I Move It? Naw, looks kind of heavy.

It comes in handy for photo ops. Better leave it there.

Am I Blue? Am I Blue? Ain't These Tears in These Eyes Telling You?

Am I blue, you'd be too...If each plan with your man....Done fell through....There was a time.....I was his only one.....
But now I'm...the sad and lonely one.....oh dear Lord...how lonely.....

Was I gay, till today.....Now he's gone and we're through.....Am I blue.....Oh he's gone and left me.....I am blue....but I remember when I was gay.

You know, none of this looks like any fun. Nor does it look inter-connected, healthy, balanced, or productive. Reminds me of my misspent Tennessee youth, hearing them "speaking in tongues," which could then be topped by the person who would "translate" into meaningful, if somewhat repetative, English, but hey, nobody ever argued.

I did a mean eerny, merny, nerny Norwegian.

Jerry Falwell says there is an epidemic of oral sex in the Christian middle schools.

Just for the record, there was LSD in public middle schools in 1970 in Tennessee, but no oral sex.

For that you had to wait until high school. I'm really very clear about this.

It makes me feel good knowing that boys are trying to learn how to give pleasure as well as take it, to girls I mean, even if this makes Falwell unhappy.

The new Evangelical talking point is "we're losing our teenagers."

We know what that means.

Why, that's worse than killing Christian babies and drinking their blood!

Nobody's perfect.

But to steal away and convert the Rapture-Ready's youngins-- why, that's low.

I'm glad it's the other side who thinks that they have all the guns.

You know, the side that lost the war?

However this turns out, good luck everybody, getting wherever it is we have to go.

Seeing the True Face of Christ

Makes the Face of the Evangelicals look like the Ghastly Perversion of truth it truly represents. Painted shrill hussies, only happy feeling persecuted.

Thank You God,
and thank the little girls too, please.
They fulfilled the contract superbly.
We'll try to complete the rest.