Cause there's a much more massive gap between what was reported to us as the cost of the war as late as oh. let me see... Last Week, where the cost of the War on An Amorphous Emotion Peopled By Shadowy Dark Skinned People In Far Corners of The Empire was "set" at being somewhere more than a Trillion dollars.... and the amount that doesn't seem to be accounted for. Which is estimated at between 5 and 8 trillion. How does 8 Trillion anything just up and piss-a-deer? I published an analogy of what a trillion dead mosquitoes would look like in one place, it would be a hill of mosquito meat about as tall as the Capitol Dome. Perhaps one reason the money is "unaccounted" is because the accountants work for the Thieves. Such as one Richard Cheney, who recently as in a couple of days ago did another interview on NBC. Regarding him being not responsible for the massacre of the poor known as the "response to Hurricane Katrina". Irresponsible? yes. NOT responsible? Hell to the no. His company, Halliburton, from which he didn't divest at all when he became the President of Vice, took the greatest share of the funds sent into the Magic Hole Which Makes Money Disappear. Using no-bid contracts administered by... Vice President Richard Cheney. Halliburton, by the way, is a company organized strictly for theft. It's what they do and they're very good at it. I know using the word "good" while describing that particular nest of snakes (my appologies to real snakes and other reptiles) makes it Instant Oxymoron, but that's one of the gaping holes in the Modern English Language. They have sucked America dry and built themselves a private island resort off the coast of Dubai, UAE. Let's break momentarily from Trashing The Trash, in other words talking smack about the thieves, and remind our audience what the term Trillion means as opposed to Billion. When you multiply anything by a thousand, that's when the name changes. "Mil" as in million means "a thousand" and in that case means a thousand times a thousand. A Billion is a thousand times a Million. A Trillion is a 1,000 x 1,000, x 1,000 x 1,000. A thousand times a billion, A MILLION millions. Bill Gates had at one time 80 billion dollars in his personal stash, that's less than 1% of a trillion. And approximately 5 trillion is missing. The largest circulating bill in U.S. currency is the $100. Each weighs a gram. It takes ten kilograms of $100 bills to make a million dollars, and that's the smallest physical pile of currency that would possibly make a million dollars. It wouldn't be like in the movies where somebody carries a briefcase full of money and it's valued, for the sake of poetic license, as ten million bucks. Not so. Ten million would weigh about what I do, 220 pounds. You would need a suitcase so big you would have to check it at the airport, not carry on luggage,
Tag: Skull and Bones
Geronimo and a Senate Committee on Stereotypes
Pursuant to the Operation Geronimo now shrouded in a cloud of "No, we aren't going to give you any evidence beyond our word" maneuver? Well, no. The committee hearing is on Racial Stereotyping as applied to American Indians and they HAD first dibs on naming rights, after the Chiricahua Apache and St Jerome (in Spanish it's Geronimo) of course, but definitely somewhere further up the line than the Navy SEALS assassination squad/highly organized lynching. At the time Geronimo was arrested on essentially Terrorism charges, not much was known about Apache sepulture, either rituals or where the graves went. But instead of burying him in Arizona, Mexico, New Mexico or Colorado, in an Apache ceremony, they buried him at Ft Sill OK. In the Apache (Prisoner Of War) section of the base cemetery. There's a couple of new legends come about, that the skull of the Skull and Bones society was his. Wouldn't surprise me at all. Folks who get a giggle from handling parts of dead humans would get an extra thrill from robbing an army Cemetery and the racist factor would make it even sweeter for them. There's an extra legend that representatives from some of the larger Apache Tribes, Chricahua, Mescalero, Jicarillo and White Mountain, re-buried him in a secret location. Which, really, at the time of his death, Apache rituals for burial were actually secret, and I've had no desire whatsoever to disrespect their customs by "digging around" asking rude questions. But from somewhere the now familiar refrain of "we don't want his followers making a shrine of his grave" was pulled out and he was buried in Ft Sill instead of New Mexico. There was a lawsuit against the United States Army and the Skull and Bones society filed in 2009 and dismissed LAST YEAR, seeking the return of the skull and bones so they could be returned to be reburied in New Mexico. On the 99th anniversary of Geronimo's death a group of 20 of the warrior's decendants sued the U.S. government, Skull and Bones and Yale in an attempt to rebury their ancestor's bones near his birthplace. In 2010 Judge Richard Roberts granted a Justice Department motion to dismiss the suit. Geronimo's relatives, he said, failed to establish that the government waived its right not to be sued. Roberts also dismissed the lawsuit against Skull and Bones and Yale, saying the plaintiffs cited a law that applies only to Native American cultural items excavated or discovered after 1990. Meaning. if you're Rich enough and have enough ties to the Officially Unofficial American Aristocracy, you can do with the bones of any Mere Peasant whatever the fuck you want. A Bush-appointed probably-skull-and-bones member, so-called "Justice" said so. The so-called "Justice Department" didn't want to investigate or prosecute the desecration of Indian graves, what a SURPRISE that was. Bunch of Racist Pricks. Maybe somebody should find out where Judge Roberts Momma is buried, dig her nasty mouldered ass out of the ground and chop THAT up, see how HE and the other Racist Pricks like THAT? I
Bin Laden was right, but you knew this already, America is a Godless nation
Lawless and Godless. My stomach has been in a knot all day. I remember feeling this way when we executed Saddam Hussein, by all accounts a brutal despot. We tried him in a kangaroo court, without even the courage to make the audio or transcript public, because he would have ratted us out. Then we had him summarily hung. Now I've no great objection to regicide, I favor it actually when imposed by public coup. At the hands of foreign invaders it's victor's justice, and probably deliberately criminal to humiliate the conquered. Last night a US special forces hunt and kill team shot the unarmed Osama bin Laden and others, in a fire-fight whose casualty ratio was that of a firing squad. Bin Laden's body was immediately disposed the way we taught Argentine and Chilean death squads to do it, disappeared out over the sea. Gone, just like those famous shoes that offended George the Wretched Bush, vaporized in post-incident explosives tests it was said, not kept by any Princeton grad as talisman keepsakes, like for example the bones of Chief Geronimo, the famed Native American resistance leader whose grave was robbed by elder alum Prescott Bush to provide the skull and crossbones for which the secretive society was named. Oddly, the operation to assassinate bin Laden was called "GERONIMO." That, or we named the mission after an expression that means, as far as I remember, "here goes nothing!" Usually shouted as you were leaping somewhere. Regardless it's an incredibly insensitive subject to invoke as you're intending to assassinate a later era's most significant resistance leader. When we decide to take out Subcommandante Marcos, are we going to name it Operation Bin Laden? And don't pretend someone doesn't want dibs on his pipe. We're told we disposed of bin Laden's body to prevent the forces of evil, aka Islam, from creating a shrine. But are Muslims the only people who worship at a shrine? I'm inclined to believe a whole other denomination of people attribute something mythic to a hero's remains, more perhaps even than his mere followers. Now I wouldn't put it past America's spooks to wring those shoes of the sweat of the wearer who summoned the courage to have a go at Bush, which no one before or since, neither prizefighter nor pope, has dared to do. Likewise, I'd think even your average incurious scientist could get a grant to scan the heart and brain of a man worth half a billion dollars yet renounced a life of luxury to dedicate his life to fight the godless Soviet invaders, and later, the most sinister, most profane dragon which has so far destroyed or enslaved everything in its fiery wake. What distinguishes this fluke DNA and how can we eradicate its traces so that Capitalism isn't jeopardized by a recurrence? But that's looking at this from the scientific side. That's right, less than the extra-judicial lynching, I am most disturbed by President Obama's decision to officially dispose of bin Laden's body.
The poetry of kick-the-can in the rain
I hate random stream of consciousness when you can tell the author thinks they're building to something. It's so, so tedious. Such was my reaction to officially-described poet Elizabeth Alexander, who recited a piece she composed for the inauguration of the First Black American President. I'll just note Alexander is a professor at Yale, the alma matter of Bush, Kerry, et al the Skull and Bones secret society. If there's anything that makes me crankier than war criminals being hugged, saluted, and wished a bon voyage, it's applause for crappy poetry. The awful result begins with noise --a cacophony which Alexander captures with brute mimicry. When she describes uniforms as common as tires and hems, of course I'm going to object. Why not add Coca-cola while you're pandering to product placement? Repairing done, Alexander moves on to people of disparate means "trying to make music." Maybe a tenured African-American studies professor wouldn't know, no one tries to make music. It doesn't even take a non-musician to make music, without having to try. Obviously you're confusing music with poetry. It may be that Alexander's challenge was corrupted by the insincerity of the "we have overcome" moment, where a half-black man's ascent to figurehead is taken as penultimate achievement of the underground railroad. It comforts me to see artistes fall flat when they dip their quills in propaganda. Here's the whole drippy thing. Hate the ambiguously half phrase. Praise song for the day. Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair. Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice. A woman and her son wait for the bus. A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin." We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider. We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road." We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see. Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of. Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables. Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self." Others by first do no harm, or take no
Who has the famous al-Zaidi Bush shoes
Everyone's clamoring for the shoe heard around the world. The several manufacturers who claim to have cobbled the offending black oxfords are deluged in orders. A Saudi man has offered ten million dollars for Muntadhar al-Zaidi's original pair. But the NYT reports: "Explosives tests by investigators destroyed the offending footwear." Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?! I don't believe that shit for a minute. If airport security can verify footwear inertness in a few seconds... Not that a pair of worn leather shoes matters a whit. But there is more than shoe fetish at foot here. And I find something about the fate of this pair of shoes that's awfully unlike a Skull and Bones man. Idolatry The Saudi who offered the king's ransom for the "Medal of Freedom" shoes, may have been enraptured by idolatry, but he knows the magical allure which those shoes will always possess. How can any of us deny the mystical energy we attribute to baseballs marked by having been hit to home runs? All Americans take, or aspire to take, a pilgrimage to the Smithsonian to see the actual, for real, objects of their common heritage. Museums of art and natural history, glean an idolatry all their own, but historical collections like the Smithsonian and the British Imperial War Museum, peddle in pure talisman mysticism. The crown jewels come to mind, or any ordinary person's diamond. Stones, crystals, runes, coins, fetishes, heirlooms, antiques, personal designer accessories, safety blankets. We swim in stuff which have meaning greater than their utility. Even poor Diogenes had his lantern. Who are we kidding that mere objects don't have enormous power over us? I myself keep everything. I frequently feel I'm drowning in remembrances and chanced-upon objects for which I aspire sentiment. Would that I could focus on strength-building empowering articles. I'm reminded of last year's sale of a copy of the Magna Carta, was it, to a modern Wall Street robber baron. I was not alone to surmise that he paid 21 million for the now-transgressed compact, probably to wipe his ass with it. As the great white hunters paid their safari guides in hope of being the last to personally vanquish whatever late species was next to be rendered extinct. The al-Zaidi Shoes This famous pair of shoes were thrown by Muntadhar al-Zaidi at President Bush, al-Zaidi being the first man to dare show defiance to the US Nero. Although, certain intellectuals do come to mind, for having voiced their discontent with his policies. I remember too, a certain brave Indonesian witch doctor who cast a magic curse on the universally despised Bush. Ki Gendeng Pamungkas placed a jinx to shorten Bush's stay in Indonesia, it wasn't a fatal voodoo spell, for that would have been just as illegal as making threats is in the US. I will always believe there must have been countless more who've cursed Bush to his face, if prudently under their breath. But journalist al-Zaidi did the one act above all others. He showed open, physical defiance. At the bottom line, against an imperial