I got to thinking: when I was a kid, I remember always starting around July 4th holidays, the newspapers would list the deaths from highway accidents nationwide in a little box score on the front pages--and July 4th was one of the biggy holidays for death on the highways--I guess because of the wildness of those Fourth of July celebrations--in those old days--like that was the time for a lot of family reunions, at least it was down in Texas, and I guess it was that way in Tennessee, too, I don't know, but I do know it was that way in Texas (I'm making fun of our "president" in case you think I've flipped--even if I've flipped as well). I know full-well (is that a Texasism?) one of my family reunions was always July 4th weekends--relatives from all over came--from California and Oregon--to go out to our city's lake and party hearty at the Coca Cola cabin (one of my uncles was a big shot at the local Coca Cola bottling plant--remember those? The Coca Cola you drank in those days was produced in your hometown from giant barrels of Coca Cola syrup shipped to them from Atlanta. The new bottles for my hometown I know were shipped from Chattanooga, Tennessee, I remember that; in those days cold drink bottles were glass and you paid a deposit on them at the grocery store and then you brought them back and got your deposit back and then cold drink companies picked up their empties and took them back to the plant where the were washed and reused. All of them didn't come back--tons of bottles and cans littered the highways in those days and my hometown had several major highways going through it so you could make a pretty good living as a kid picking up bottles (especially beer bottles--they had like 3 and 4 cent deposits on them) along the highways and byways--it was better than a paper route. So at my hometown's Coca Cola plant, they added whatever else was needed to make Coca Cola, carbonated water, sugar (I remember seeing tons of 100-lb sacks of Imperial (good name for an American corp., right?) pure cane sugar coming off the loading docks and into plant area when I used to hang down there--and I was down there a lot: my brother worked there along with my favorite uncle--and his wife, my aunt, worked on the bottling line in front of a huge magnifying glass that the just-washed empty bottles passed in front of as she checked them for breaks, chips, cracks, faults, and her son, my cousin, worked loading the fully loaded cases of Coke at the end of the bottling process into the Coca Cola delivery trucks, which he then hopped into besides the driver and went out as the grunt on the delivery routes. My dad had been a Pepsi-Cola deliveryman when my brother was a kid and I was so jealous that my brother had gotten to know my dad then and gotten to have gone on trips around the county with him, drinking free Pepsis all day--and Orange Crushes, too--my dad delivered Orange Crushes, and they were orange-flavored sugar water, but, boy, were they good to us kids. My dad was a department manager in a department store when I got to know where he worked--the only reason I enjoyed going to my dad's job then was because of the women in the department store--besides, one of my sports was looking under the mannikin's dresses--I was such a cute little cub-imp going up to my mother and saying, "Mother, that lady isn't wearing any pop-pants [that's what my mother called my little boy jockeys]." I think I got a God-decreed beating for that incident). (How's that for being parenthetical?)
Anyway, here we go back to our story: so the newspapers listed these highway fatalities and I would marvel at them: "July 4th Highway Accidents Beginning Midnight July 3rd: Nationwide: 580. Texas: 84. Taylor County: 6." And my family travelled a lot; my dad loved cars and driving and highways and travelling--he always said his ambition as a kid was to be a hobo; so we were always on the highways of Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Colorado, New Mexico, Kansas; one summer all the way to Seattle, Washington; one summer all the way to Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, New York City, in an old Oldsmobile, without air conditioning, always being wary of a tire blowing, or blowing a motor gasket, or knocking the bolt off the oil pan, or perhaps a rock knocking a hole in the muffler can--or even rocks could fly up in those days and crack your windshield. But my dad knew cars; he could certainly fix flats and blowouts; he also knew how to clean the spark plugs when the car misfired; he knew how to set the points on a distributor cap in case the car was misfiring; he knew how to check and change the oil; he knew how to check the automatic transmission fluid; he knew how to check all the hoses and connections and how to check the battery and the battery connections; and he could repair a loose muffler, wire it back up in position, or if it had a hole in it, he would stuff the hole if he could find it with chewing gum or putty; he could also repair dents in fenders--I've seen him do it many times with his rubber-head hammer and his metal sander and then he painted his repairs matching the paint perfectly from his auto paint chart that hung loudly in our garage; and he could change and replace the spark plugs if he had to (AC spark plugs were his favorites because those were his initials); he could even take off and replace the generator or the starter (and starters were always going out on cars in those days); or he knew how to adjust the rheostat on the heater; he could replace the battery, too, if he had to; he could even crawl under the car and change the oil or repair the broken cap on the oil pan.
And it was fun to break down in those days for a kid--it was fun breaking down in a strange far-off, out of the way place and having to wake up the town's only mechanic and get him to open up so he could do what he could to help us get moving again. It was fun, too, when you hit unpaved parts of highways--and it happened--especially long gravel stretches of major highway on which they were resurfacing it or repairing it or widening it; or sometimes your car would go sliding off the asphalt and into a muddy ditch during a rainstorm--getting stuck in the mud--and that was fun because my dad would have to go out in the rain up to whatever house or farm or city or filling station he could see and get to and negotiate for them to come out and pull us out of the ditch. I remember one farmer came out in the rain and brought his new Ford-Ferguson tractor and pulled us out of a ditch and then charged my dad 20 bucks for the job--and my dad hit the ceiling and finally got us out of there by giving the farmer a ten-spot. Little did I know how much 20 smackeroos was to my family in those days.
But even more fun was coming across a wreck. And that was more often than you'd think. I remember one trip where my dad stopped and help turn back onto its wheels a Ford coupe that had flipped into a ditch off the highway--an old man and woman were in the car. A bunch of men and my dad actually righted the car and got it started again.
Then we hadn't gone ten miles when we came across another accident, a truck had hit a car--my dad always stopped at accidents and went up to see if he could help--I was definitely supposed to stay in the car at those times but this time I couldn't resist and I ran after my dad and just as I got to where I could see the car that had been hit, I froze, shocked, the door to the car was open and a woman behind the steering wheel was completely visible to me and her face was smashed, bloody, her teeth were hanging out of her blood-drooling mouth and one of her legs was bent clear back into the backseat looking like it was detached from her body, and worst of all, the steering wheel was smashed into her chest and it was raw meat and blood and then I smelled the smell, the rotten sweet smell of hot, fresh blood mixed with the oil and grease and steam and vapors coming from the wrecked car and truck. I ran back to our car and hid my kiddy face in the back seat. (I think I once mentioned my friend who drove the ambulance for a local funeral home in my hometown and how I went with him out to wreck site one night where a Santa Fe train had clobbered a car containing a man, his wife, and their baby. My friend came back to the ambulance and told me I'd better stay in the ambulance because it was a bloody mess up by the train, the baby, he said, was stuck in the locomotive's front grill and they were going to have to "dig it out," his frightening words. I went anyway; those were my macho days, especially around my peers, and I remember how utterly casual this dude was around mangled bodies and dead bodies and how easy a job it was really for him--night man at a funeral home--only the dead know the pleasures of that job and they ain't talkin'.)
The American League of Mass Murderers Standings
And all of this prolix post leads up to my thinking about the American League of Mass Murderers. I think at the head of my off-the-top-of-my-head list would be, yep, good ole boy and good white soldier boy, Timothy McVeigh--what's his record, 250?
Next would come, though, Attorney General Janet Reno who ordered the massacre of the David Koresh/Branch Davidian followers in Waco, remember, during Slick Willie's oh-so wonderful Dumbocratic administration (that gave us the Patriot Act; NAFTA; GATT; the War in Somalia; the boycotting and daily bombing of Iraq; the missiling of Afghanistan and instead of blowing away Osama's training camp along with Osama, Willie blew away a schoolhouse or something as non-threatening as that and let Osama escape to Pakistan; the weird military actions in Bosnia and Serbia (Wesley Clark could shed some light on that if he dared--the general coward that he is--military generals are always two-faced and all of them are liars, same as all politicians are liars and all stock brokers are liars and all used car salesmen are liars, all insurance salesmen are liars, all CEOs are liars, all lawyers are fabricators and changers of the subject (a great tactic I learned from watching lawyers--changing the subject--like when in a trial a lawyer is F-ing up he suddenly starts attacking the lawyership of his opponent, thus changing the subject from the defense of his client to the attacking of the prosecution as an incompetent lawyer. It works with personal relationships, too. If you're losing an argument, change the subject)) and I'm a liar, too); too, it was Slick Willie who encircled Haiti with US Navy gunboats and threatened to shoot Haitians desperately trying to reach asylum in the USA, coming so fast, Slick Willie not only stopped them, but he put a hell of host of them in, where?, Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. Remember when Guantanamo Prison was full of Haitians? Oh, but the Cuban boat people--Fidel's insane population--they were welcomed here with open arms--though we did put a hell of a lot of those Cubans in prisons around the country, too. Wonder what ever happened to those Haitians and Cubans we imprisoned in those days? Slick Willie our great Dumbocratic president--at least he enjoyed Cuban cigars and getting blowjobs from young government dahrlinks, especially those sophtic ones like Monica Lewd-in-sky ("Tell us, Monica, what does a Big Willie Pop taste like? And, too, dear, what are those stains on your dress" Remember Red Peters's tune "Come Stains"?).
How many deaths are blamed on Janet's ordering of the burning in Hell fire of those poor confused souls, 75 wasn't it? Here, check it out for yourself, and while you're reading this, notice some of the names involved in this--why, look, there's General Wesley Clark, that F-up screwball military geek:
Many people believe that David Koresh (or the Branch Davidians) were responsible for the deaths of the 74 men, women and children who died in the inferno at Waco on April 19, 1993. This is the story that the FBI put out. It is a lie. The guns they had were legal. The local sheriff investigated and found no basis for complaints against them. These were law-abiding American citizens, even if they thought differently to most other folks. They trusted the U.S. Constitution to ensure their political rights, but they were murdered by agents acting under the authority of the U.S. government. Read this page if you believe otherwise. If you still have doubts, get the video Rules of Engagement for visual evidence. Or read the book Armageddon in Waco. Or see the film Waco: A New Revelation.
Waco occurred under the presidency of Bill Clinton, with Janet Reno and Wesley Clark in supporting roles. Already back in 1993 the US government demonstrated its contempt for the American people by carrying out a massacre in order to "demonstrate" (on prime time TV) its supposed "authority" (a tactic favored by fascist governments). Following the usurpation of the presidency in 2000 by the psychopath George W. Bush, and the subsequent installation of the insane John Ashcroft as Bush's Himmler, things became much worse. On 9/11 about forty times as many people were murdered as at Waco. In both cases the murderers have so far gone unpunished.
Note: I'm not counting 9/11 as Americans massacre-ing Americans, so all the Saudis with US drivers's licenses and IDs and shit can't make the list--sorry.
So here we go:
1) Timothy McVeigh--------------- 250
2) Attorney General Janet Reno----74
3) [New Listing] Cho Seung-hi------32 (an asterisk goes by his name/is he really an American?)
4) George Hennard-------------------24 (in Luby's Cafeteria in Killeen, Texas)
5) James Huberty-------------------- 21 (in McDonald's in San Diego, Calif.)
6) Eric Harris/Dylan Kleibold------14 (Columbine School)
"President" Bush has through his wars killed way over a half-a-million people, including 3,400+ American soldiers and 700, isn't it, contractors. That's more than Slick Willie ordered killed during his reign; but Nixon killed more people in Vietnam and Cambodia than the Slick One, Georgie Porgie Baby Boy Bush, and Saddam Hussein put together.
We love killing in this country. Look at the coverage of this Virginia Tech tragedy. They are trotting several desperate times around Robin's barn trying to explain this shit. I especially love these experts who analyze this Cho dude--all of them guessing none of them knowing. Why ask a psychologist like Doctor Quack Phil (a damn psychologist is all Phil is--he may even be an educational psychologist since he went to my Alma mater which was one of the best teacher-training schools in Texas--EdDs, some of the dumbest people on earth) about these killers? A trailer house psychologist like Unka Phil doesn't know a damn thing about these characters.
They should ask a sociologist about this dude. Cho definitely shows sociopathic symptoms all over the place and not psychotic ones--that's why psychologists have no idea what motivates a dude like this to do what he does. The "loner" bit has a lot to do with it, but that's not all. Think of where he's from; South Korea; think of what we did to his country--I mean, it's in his instincts, the legends created by the US attack on South and North Korea, though way before he was born, these fables are still running through his behavior--he feels weak against these privileged American kids at this old colonial-style university out in the sticks of Virginny, the Old Dominion State--check out what "dominion" means. Rich kids always have the most fun at college and Virginia Tech attracts a lot of rich kids. Always in a dorm there are mixed behaviors all over the place--living in a male dorm is tough--you show the least weakness and the dominant males will jump all over you. A weak kid like this Cho dude actually builds up tons of resentments and starts acting weird around his dorm mates, talking weird, being hung up in the American legends that promote the rugged individualist against the cold, cruel world with no protections at all from being abused because of his ethnic background--"You're not an American, Cho; what the hell are you doing here at a real American university? You Koreans think you're so damn smart." The American kids have their legends, too, that they believe and worship as traditions, taught to them by their Baby Boomer parents and teachers, lucky bastards, parents who've grown up without a responsibility in the world, unable to teach their own children any responsibilities, usually tossing the kids off with, "Hey, you're own your own, my son, blah, blah, blah."
American males are fascinated with killing devices. Americans fear death more than any other culture because we don't have a lot of white death in this country. Oh yeah, we true patriotic Americans massacred the Native Americans, but, hey, we had a divine right to do that--Manifest Destiny--a great White Father document of either let us massacre you or pen you up on reservations (read: concentration camps) and treat you like savages, which to American white male instincts you are if you are a Native American. See how it works?
Poor young Cho. In America to become an American on the encouragement of his poor hapless American-Dream-Believing parents--"You have to do better than American white males. You have to be twice as smart as they are...." That kind of bullshit teaching. Poor Cho. He chose Virginia Tech to be an English major. That's weird right there, isn't it? Doesn't that tell you something about his wanting to be accepted as an American outlaw or otherwise?
So Cho, hey, he was simply at a dead-end in his quest to be a great American individualist hero, as can be seen through his really whacko and bad short stories, at least the couple of silly ones I've read--a disturbed sociopath (unable to co-exist in a societal setting; rebellious against all forms of authority, even to the point of running red lights on purpose). Next step, the sociopath becomes the anti-hero--the antithesis of what society says is a hero. What does an anti-hero do? He makes his presence known by putting on his special service gear, his military-like ammo jacket and vest, his hooded head--look at the Al Queda and Hamas and such dudes--the Taliban--known for their scary black turbans and black uniforms--black is evil and that is the favorite color of a sociopath and taking his cache of weapons (his many penises) and going on a Rambo-like rampage; "Now who's the dumbass loner Kolean boy, you bastards; I'll show you whose the best American."
The anti-hero's biggest moment? Watch the Rambo movies. Little short-guy Sylvester Stallone expresses these anti-hero feelings a lot in his characters, but especially in Rambo. "It's over, Johnny." And Johnny says, "The hell it's over." And Johnny's senior officer says, "I order you to...." To which Rambo replies, "F your orders, I'm going after some Gooks."
Arnold Swartzendumkoft also portrays the anti-hero (sociopath) in his movies--the Terminator, wow, what a sociopathic force he is--KILL or BE KILLED is the message the sociopath follows.
Why do sociopathic anti-heros like Cho like killing young women? Figure it out, mother.
I thought it quiet revealing that to the administration of Virginia Tech, the most important thing was to keep school spirit up--and here were thousands of the 26,000 students standing in unison holding candles but instead of silent respect for those of them who had paid the sacrifice by taking Cho's bullets and thereby saving other classmates--see, those are the hero heroes in these situations--the victims who survived this dude--but anyway, here were all these students and faculty and parents and instead of a respectful sombreness, the college pres or whoever he was started chanting, "Go Hokies!" Whaaa! "Go Hokies!" What is this, the NCAA campus massacre conference? "Go Hokies!" How hokkum is that? Shows you where our college loyalties are--not to the students but to the athletic departments, which bring in the big bucks, especially now that Virginia Tech is a nationally ranked college in terms of football and basketball. In terms of teaching and educating? Probably average dumb.
My best friend ever in life was a renowned expert in his field, Quantative Physics and Management. He taught at a state university right up the road from V Tech. He started off teaching undergraduates, but his prominence in his field was such, they moved him to the graduate school. Right before he died I asked him if he thought he'd chosen the right path in life--and he said, "I wanted so bad to be a professor, to teach people what I know about the world, the universe, its workings, its actions, and the result of those universal actions on even our economies--I was eager when I first got my Ph D., but right after my first college class I taught [at the University of Houston], I told my wife, Jesus kids are dumber than a pile of dogshit. How can I teach these kids what I know, when they don't have the basics to even understand and certainly not comprehend what I know?" This disappointment never left my friend and he ended by saying that he was totally unhappy with his teaching career--"students," he said, "are so totally unprepared by our rudimentary education system how to think and reason and use logic that they are incapable of learning anything comprehensively only rotely and mechanically." The university my friend taught at is supposedly one of the finest educational institutions in the world.
There's the problem, folks: in the way we educate our children and I'm starting right at the time of birth, too--that's when a kid starts learning about his or her instincts and that's when a kid has to be taught the difference between the subjective (the dreamworld) and the objective (the real world); that's when a kid, too, should be taught that, "Hey, kid, you are only a dumb F-ing animal, and don't you ever forget that."
Disappearing BeesEarly this morning I heard a dude on the radio saying that the United States bee population is dwindling, not from disease or migration, but from cell phones. It seems our bees are leaving their hives but not returning, totally disappearing off the map. Some scientists say it could be because of our excessive use of electromagnetic waves in the transmission of cell phone calls. The cell phone signals are confusing the natural homing devices of the bees and they're are getting lost in space, one could say.
Did you know that Einstein said (remember now, Einstein was an egghead and we don't like smartass eggheads in this country--at least white males don't) without bees humans would have only 4 years of survival left?
Did you know that most of our food pollenation is carried out by bees. Without their pollenation, we would have no crops, no orchards, no flowers, no trees, no....
By the Way, Virginia Tech Grievers and Gun-Toting Revengers, Pissed Off Over a Little Sociopath Blowing Away 31 People and Himself, 178 People, Men, Women, Children, Students, Idiots, Were Just Blown Up in a Car Bomb Attack in Baghdad This Afternoon.
178. Anybody holding a candlelight vigilance for them?
"Go Hokies."
thegrowlingwolffor The Daily Growler
Thanks to wood s lot for mentioning us (The Daily Growler) in his yesterday's post-- Our excerpt is right by the cover of Time Magazine that shows a pistol being pointed right in your face.
Armed and Dangerous.
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