Saturday, September 16, 2006

Keepin' On Keepin' On

Movement Lawyers
William Kuntsler called himself a "Movement Lawyer," which he said really meant a "people's lawyer." It means, Bill said, that instead of dictating to your clients, like most lawyers do, people's lawyers listened to what their clients want.

I had forgotten Kuntsler represented Jack Ruby...and saved Jack's ass from the 'lectric chair--a death that was truly brutal in Texas during those electric-chair days--burning victums to death same as they used to burn 'em at the stake in the good ole colonial days of those sweet benevolent Pilgrims and Puritans--holy Jesus, what brutal religious attitudes, these Pilgrims and Puritans--The King of England harrassed their ass to the point they signed on to whatever ship their small savings could afford to escape to a place--in a biblical wilderness--and they found it when they stepped on these stolen shores at Plymouth Rock--and they said Praise the Lard, we have a place where we can found a little colony and then dammit enforce our religion on each other--you know, to the point the most pious of us can see demons and devils in the darkness of their ignorance and fanatical interpretations of a book written for them by the mean little prick of a worthless morganatic bastard King James who claimed he'd gotten his translation of whatever language he translated his bible from straight from God's multilingual mouth (Praise the Lard, God has a Scottish accent--Hoot Mon! Didn't some character in ole Walt Kelly's Pogo say "Hoot Mon" all the time?--the Owl. God, it's been so long since I saw any of the adventures of Pogo the Possum, the Uncle Remus of comic strips. Pogo was such an innocent little creature; nothing like an actual possum, that's a mean son of a bitchin' rat-like animal when it's cornered. I've heard of coon hounds being killed by maddened possums, especially the females with babies, and I knew a guy in high school who chewed tobacco in class and always had photos of his prize Blue Tick hounds with him, and this guy hated possums--he hated all varmints, especially those he could throw in a dutch oven and turn into an edible stew. See, I even know a little something about coonhounds and coonhunters.

This mess all started with Bill Kuntsler keeping Jack Ruby out of the Texas electric chair--burning him at the stake. Of course, Jack up and died of cancer in jail in Dallas later--was he injected with cancer like it was rumored Lyndon Johnson was later injected with cancer on a helicopter flight from the Johnson Library in Austin back to his ranch on the Perdenales River in Johnson City, Texas? Those rumors said that's the way the CIA were getting rid of people who knew about Kennedy's assassination and the debacle in the Gulf of Tonkin--Bay of Pigs, too, when Lyndon was vice-president.

Kuntsler believed a Movement Lawyer had to use every trick in the book to win his case for his movement-type clients. He said Abby Hoffman and Baba Ram Dass taught him that in the Chicago 7 Trial. He said Abby and Baba were the masters at using the courtroom--"They made the courtroom their own." Yep, every jive trick in the books, even to the point of the ridiculous. That's the only way to play against a stacked deck, which the Chicago 7 Trail was--what a joke; so much a joke, all seven of these brave, true hero dudes were released. The old withered 90-year-old judge got so irritated by these smart ass bastards he ordered Bobby Seales bound and gagged, chained to his chair in the dock. This old relic from a Taftian Republican past judged most of these heroes hippies, Yippies; hell, to this judge, most of 'em, too, were smart-ass Jewboys and the old devil judge was a Republican who was well-known for his anti-Semetic remarks. He was, of course, also a racist. It was definitely a rigged trial.

Then Bill Kuntsler won his most successful defense in his suit against the Washington, D.C. school system from "tagging" black students, a white racist tactic where they decided by the third grade what black kids should be trained to do, like being maids, servants, waiters; only the most exceptional and most white-like ever able to be trained for the possibility of going to college. Kuntsler got that thrown the hell out. A brilliant dude this Kuntsler. My kind of wolf.

Have you ever heard of Rendition Flights? Those are the flights where our government--the CIA actually, takes terrorist suspects (you know, the millions of Al Queda forces out there--profiling Al Queda members is tough; you pick up a hell of a lot of guilty-looking smarmy-looking bastards so you have to send these poor bastards on these flights to foreign countries where they are tortured--one method of torture our pals in Morocco use on our "Al Queda" terrorist prisoners is called "slicing." What slicing is is a bunch of paid Moroccan torturers (paid, of course, by We the People's money*) come in the room where the US prisoner is hanged naked by his wrists, his flesh as taut as his tied-lifted arms can make it. Each torturer, one prisoner said 5 Moroccans sliced him, has a scapel. One at a time they mosey over to the prisoner and ask him to confess to something. The prisoner says, "What the hell am I supposed to confess to?" A smart reply will get him sliced. The insulted Moroccan takes his scapel and makes a small slice just above the prisoner's right nipple. It hurts; the blood immediately starts flowing smelly down his chest. Then the Moroccan, just for emphasis may then make another slice on the guy, maybe this time above the other nipple. Then the next Moroccan moseys over and says, "Are you going to confess, dog, that you are an agent of Al Queda?" "No. I'm not an Al Queda agent?" This Moroccan then makes his slices on this dude. On and on it goes until the dude is sliced up pretty bad. All done in the name of "Freedom on the March."

A Daily Growler footnote:
*Hey, a Moroccan torturer probably makes more with one torture session that you make in a year--paid with fresh new US100 buck bills that are delivered to them by the CIA on wooden platforms, millions of dollars at a time. Disgusting, isn't it?

One of my favorite cooking shows on snooty PBS is run by a just-plain-nice-guy (lucky bastard) who calls himself Ming and runs the Boston restaurant called Blue Ginger (Lucky Bastard). But Ming is cool, and I watched him the other day. One of his show's best segments is when Ming invites one of his fabulous (lucky bastard) chef friends to join him and cook with him--Ming's speciality is creating sauces. One of the most surprising of these segments was the one I just saw where Ming sets up a barbecue grill on top of Fenway Park and Big Poppy lumbers up there to start laying out his special barbecued chicken. It was great; Big Poppy and Ming barbecuing on Fenway's roof on a very windy day; then Big Poppy, who's a fine young man, by the way, brought up his wife and they had a blast. It was a very "fun" segment. Cheers to Ming for a good idea. Good cooking show, I guarantee.

Another good cooking show is the one put on by the chefs at America's Test Kitchen. Great host and great cooks and great product testers.

Teevee cook shows to watch: Cooking With Ming and America's Test Kitchen--look for them, they are great cooking shows, very serious, and very damn good looking food.

for The Daily Growler

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