Yes, I've changed it--"as you would have them do unto you" wasn't working for me. Bernard Shaw, I understand from hearsay scrolling, was pugilistic toward the Golden Rule ("the Ethics of Reciprocity" in Philosophy 101) also. From the amazin' Wikipedia: "George Bernard Shaw once said that 'The golden rule is that there are no golden rules.' Shaw also criticized the golden rule, 'Do not do unto others as you would expect they should do unto you. Their tastes may not be the same.' (Maxims for Revolutionists)."
I must agree with Shaw. The Golden Rule is a human interpretation of what a human thinks is fair in terms of human rights. So if you are kicking a dude in the ass because you caught him with his hand in your cookie jar, you're supposed to think, "Wait a minute, would I want this dude doing this to me were it reversed?" Then you're supposed to back off and start reasoning with the dude, "Now, dude, let's settle this ethically." To which the dude is gonna either bolt or kick you in the nuts. It's called in Growler ethics "letting your guard down." It comes from the Growler Golden Rule of "Never ever let down your guard." Which simply means, like B.B. King used to sing, "I can't trust nobody but my mother/and sometimes I wonder about her, too." Amen, Brother King. And I learned a lot from Black people about this--a black person unless they are still letting themselves be tacitly whipped by the white man never lets their guard down...and really even the jivin' guy who's still kowtowing to whitey has his guard up even then, you know, expecting at any time the ole kind whitey to suddenly turn on him to put him in his place--like Hillary was trying to teach Obama through her mouthpiece Geraldine Ferraro with her typical whitey statement, "Obama is only winning because he's black...." And she was really whitely trying to say, "If he were white he wouldn't be beating Hillary's rather large rearend." You see Hillary's trapped in a corner right now; she painted herself into that corner because she's allowed Slick Willie to infuse her campaign with his old cronies and the Dumbocratic Party aristocracy--she's nothing without that Clinton name and the fact she's a carpetbagger senator from New York State--hell, she won that seat over Rudi "Mussolini" Guiliani--you know Rudi hates her ass, just like he hated Eliot Spitzer's ass, and I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't some of Rudi's ruthlessness behind the wacking of Eliot Spitzer. Surely Bernie Keric knew of the Embassy Club. Come on, superstud Bernie! You don't think Bernie doesn't know every hot whore in this tristate area of Connecticut (sure they have whores in Connecticut, the home state of the Bushes), New Jersey (come on, Spritzer's main whore was a Jersey girl), and New York (the home of the finest and most expensive whores in the world). My final wife said all women are whores because that's the only way a woman of any color can survive in this Man's world (and don't you forget it). [A The Daily Growler Aside: Geraldine Ferraro's son was caught possessing and selling cocaine at his college--he beat the rap! All the while the New York State prison industry was reaching new capacities filling up with Black and Hispanic and po' white cocaine abusers, street runners, and also some innocent casual users who being given, under the Rockefeller (yeah, that great humanitarian Nelson "Pig Ass" Rockefeller) Drug Laws, 25 to life for simple possession of the drug. But not white politicians's sons. Remember David Kennedy, the Kennedy boy totally forgotten now, died of an overdose of heroin in a cheap-ass Miami motel--and before that he was often spotted in Harlem during his family's heyday copping coke and heroin--and Little David always beat the rap until he rapped himself off the planet ("Rap" by the way comes from "the rap sheet"--dig? Rappers are rapping out their own rap sheets, "I'm a man, a real man, god-damn, and I stand a man, a tough man, a man with a hand on the trigger of a gun, bad if you're the one..." It's the same as the Dozens that came out of the oldtimers's prison time called "The Life")--and David Kennedy's Uncle Teddy and his wife were stone-ass alcoholics and dangerous as hell to other humans while they were driving drunk--and David's cousin William was a rapist who raped a chick on the Kennedy compound though he beat the rap when he proved the girl was a slut anyway, a little whore, who was just out to soak another Kennedy...oh well--Patrick, too, he's currently in drug rehab and alcohol rehab after driving his BMW sports car into a tree (never get in a car or a plane with a Kennedy) while he was unconsciously (it runs in the family--like Uncle Teddy's amnesia at Chappaquiddick--oh yeah, Uncle Teddy is a murderer, too) driving to Congress in the middle of the night--but, hey, We the People took pity on poor Patrick so he's still proudly serving the citizens of Rhode Island (not his home state) in his nice comfy Congressional job and the police may have given him a traffic violation but certainly not 25 to life--ah, how sweet is hypocrisy!]
And Now for the Crux to This Winter's Soldier's Tale
I was listening to some Iraq War vets on Democracy Now talking this past weekend down in the District of Corruption--the corporate media totally did not cover this--at a "Winter Soldier" affair set up by the Iraq and VietNam War vets--and these guys were having a confessional--based on the original Winter Soldier Meeting in Detroit back in '72 where the VietNam vets confessed to the same atrocities--you see, that's what this Winter Soldier thing means--veterans in the winter of their seasons in combat--in their seasons of being given orders to search and DESTROY--coming forth and confessing to many many acts of murder, rape, pillaging, devouring, gutting, skinning alive, decapitating, putting grenades up young girls's pussies and then pulling the pins!--not once bothered by the look on that young innocent of any wrongdoing girl's face, not bothered by her cringing face, her crying eyes pleading with the human being before her, the human being shoving that grenade up her vagina saying strange angry words at her while he's doing it, words she knows are spelling out how this strange foreign human being is going to kill her and why he's killing her and she doesn't get it, they've just killed her whole family back in the hut, isn't that enough, but no is the answer she sees in this young man's face, a young man about the age of her brother who had just had his brains blown out and splattered all over his still-alive father's face and this young girl watched all of that happen, then the soldier who'd blown her brother's brains into her father's face took his service pistol and shot a bullet into each of her father's eyes--it caused his whole skull to blow up with blood pouring out of where his eyes once were--and then the soldier came at her and she shrivelled back and cowered in fear in the farthest corner of the hut but the soldier kept coming and he roughly grabbed her and held her around the waist and she started kicking to get free and she got free momentarily and tried to run but the soldier whacked her in the back with his M16 and she fell face down on the hut's dirt floor--and the soldier then with his piece stuck the barrel deep into the crack of the girl's bottom, shoved in there so hard the tip of the barrel broke through the cotton of her pants and poked hard and painful against her butt hole--and she heard him begin hollering such unintelligible to her but obviously hateful words at her--"You little Cong bitch, you like that up your little tight Gook ass? Here [he shoves the barrel harder into the girl's butt crack], you like that, you like it up your ass? I should blow that little tight ass up into your mouth...." He stops talking and she feels the barrel of the weapon leave her bottom...and then she feels something squeezing her buttocks, his hand, and then he whispers what she can't understand but understands the mockery in it just from its tone, "Yeah, baby, you gotta really sweet little tight Gook ass--like the ass on that Gook bitch I fucked down in Saigon just last weekend--sweet pussy"--his talk is then interrupted by another soldier coming to the door of the hut and hollering something angry like at the soldier and the soldier immediately shouts attentively, "Yes, Sir!," and then he roughly pulls her up off the floor by her hair and then drags her by her hair out of the hut--it hurt and hurt and she began screaming and then the soldier stopped and she was kicked in the side, "Roll over, bitch, I gotta put you out'a your misery quick--we got some other little Gook bitches like you to blow away today"--and she just automatically rolled over in spite of not understanding the order--and when she was on her back still crying and screaming and begging for mercy at a merciless strange face this soldier ripped her pants down and he then he put his hand up way inside her vagina, tore into it and the pain was so severe she went blank though she kept screaming and crying and hollering for help for salvation for magic for anything, the desire to live fighting against the whole United States Armed Forces at that moment--and then, just like that...SHE EXPLODED and was no more--and the soldier that did it to her was gone by then and didn't even look back as his patrol was quick-stepping on to the next hamlet of the four hamlets they were hitting that day--they were on a search and destroy mission on March 16, 1968 in Sun My Province, VietNam, under orders from the top military command, General Westmoreland and his right-hand henchman, to get the Cong in those hamlets even if they had to rape, maim, blow away every mother son of a bitch Gook who got in their way since the military reasoned all Gooks were Cong even young girls, old grannies, and little babies--and as every soldier who's been in every army since armies began knows that when the enemy is defeated, the men are killed outright or put into slavery and the women are their's to rape, maim, kill, whatever, even take home with them to use them as servants or whores since the military slogan has always been "To the victor go the spoils"--and who was General Westmoreland's henchman? Why it was our old pal, ex-Bush-Sec'y of State, Colon 's Pal; yep, Colon's was a general under Westmoreland and his main (maim) job was the fixer of the body counts daily because Colon's Pal's boss wanted more troops sent over, 100,000 more, so he had Colon's Pal fix the body counts in favor of the Cong--see what I mean?--SOLDIERS are toys to military high commands--toys to be played with like toys on a plywood-table battlefield--DOING UNTO OTHERS AS WE WOULD HAVE THEM DO UNTO US--yes, folks, on this the 40th anniversary of the My Lai Massacre (did you hear any mention of it on the news?--nope)--I remember how hypocritically dangerous We the People are collectively in our subservience to our ethically foul government. That was the Nazis's excuse at Nuremburg. "We were just following orders! We are innocent." And, you know, those bastards would have been found innocent by one of our military tribunals today--or even by our Supremely Rigged Court, which favors national socialism over secular humanism (a dirty, dirty word to fable-faithful Christians), which is Fascism, which is Nazism.
And a hey let's face it, Obama's "pastor" is absolutely correct in his wild-ass fire-ball sermons; poor Obama, and he thought the whiteys would be impressed by his church work and his patriotism toward the Jewish God Yahweh and toward blameless Israel and finally toward his own blameless nation, his nation of fools and the easily duped, but nope, whitey hates Black preachers like that--a whitey will eventually bring 'em all down--look what they did to Adam Clayton Powell, Jr., and Dr. Martin Luther King, and Dr. Martin Luther King's father (remember how he died?). We the People are hypocrites--flip-floppers, fakirs, two-faced, interested in only one thing, and I leave you all to guess what that is.
This has been The Daily Growler's remembrance of the My Lai Massacre--and here's a little visual remembrance of My Lai for you readers; maybe you'll find this photo memorably refreshing--it shows you how we would have people do unto us--one of the Iraqi vets at the Winter Soldier meeting last weekend mentioned how the smell of putrifying bodies was thick in the air of Baghdad twenty-four-seven. We the People are such hypocrites.
thegrowlingwolf
for The Daily Growler
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