Tuesday, July 14, 2009

The Daily Growler Jots & Tittles Edition--a Collector's Edition

From the Insipid Shores of New York's Forgotten Lake Flaccid, the Cesspool of the Adirondacks, Comes Barabbas Munn-Dayne, thedailygrowlerjots&tittlesman
They still won't call it "Jots & Titties" like I want them to. The Growler turned me on to J. Orlin Grabbe and his Website and Grabbe's site got into all kinds of ethical and aesthetics trouble for running naked women pictures. And I'm not talking about spread-eagle photos airbrushed into decency--nope, I'm talking about full-fledged no-holds-barred spread-eagle, "Hello, here it is!"-kind-of photos. Grabbe was his name and he was attempting to grab--to grab attention. what we are all doing. J. Orlin was a freestyle Libertarian, one of those full-blast ones, one of those "Live and Let Live" disciples of Calvinist fudiciary principles, one of those patriotic types who took that Colonial-times "Don't Tread on Me" flag seriously. That's the Libertarian attitude, don't tread on me and I won't shoot your ass and ask questions later. But J. Orlin was a more left-sided Libertarian (can there be a progressive Libertarian?) and there are such demons among so righteous a group. There used to be a Libertarian test on the Internet--you know, you answered a set of Libertarian-conceived questions and in the end it told you what kind of Libertarian you were. I tested a Leftwing Libertarian. I don't sit on the front porch of my cabin with a 20/20 across my lap--I sit on my front porch with a laptop on my lap, though I'm sure if I were a true Leftwing Libertarian I would have a 20/20 propped up by my side, say as I worked my libertarian magic on my blog for instance. However progressive one is, if one lives in the woods as I do--on a lake shore to boot, as I do, then whether you sit with a 20/20 visibly propped up by your side as you do your daily chores or have one hidden close at hand, at least you should give the appearance of having one somewhere at hand. I've got posted signs on my property, very Libertarian ones that say if you do disrespect my posted signs you are subject to at least being potshot at. During certain seasons, like deer season, my posted signs are daily disrespected. I've yet to shoot a deer hunter who jumped my fences and posted signs though I have scared the bejesus out of more than one. Besides, I've got a reputation around the lake. I'm a New Yorker, meaning I'm from New York City, and I look Italian, so what the hell do these outlanders know as to how Italian I truly am. I've thought many times of putting a "Sons of Sicily" sign on my cabin somewhere, but, hey, I'm a peaceful man. I must admit, I do like to fish, keeping in mind while I fish what Kurt Cobain sang in that song that starts "Under the bridge..."--he sang, "It's alright to eat fish because fish have no feelings," so while I'm out trolling for trout I always keep that little diddy in mind. Until I catch a nice brook trout up the road in a high-up little Adirondack stream I and only a couple of Native Americans know about and then after I make a sweet wood fire and filet out three or four of those fresh caught brook sweethearts, get some bacon grease to sizzlin' in the bottom of my big 12" wide cast-iron skillet I bring along on my fishing escapes, and after I roll those filets in some cornmeal laced with salt and pepper and then throw them down in that hot bacon grease and they fry up so nice and golden crispy brown and I take them out and dish out some pork'n beans laced with fat back and onions and tomatoes and cut me out a big piece of already prepared cornbread from home, slicing it in half and then sandwich one of those trout fillets between those halves, then dip that cornbread fish sandwich in some of that bacon grease, then scoop up a big gob of pork'n beans with that cornbread sandwich, then hoist that cornbread, fish, and beans mess up to your mouth to then gobble that delicious concoction down with much gusto, and finally, then, to wash that all down with a big washdown of ice-cold brew. I always have two ice chests packed with chipped ice in my boat--both full of those barrel cans of Heineken. There's nothing better. Sure I look stupidly L.L. Bean when I'm on one of these fishing expeditions, but oh what a natural life. Then the fucking mosquitoes sweep onto you and the next thing you know your cussing like a sailor and then your looking out for suspicious-looking movements among the closing in shadows of the night. Soon you're sleeping like a baby careless of any dangers except those in a bad dream you may be having. So a god-damn bear tries to climb in my sleeping bag with me--I'd blow his stupid bear brains out, I would--"Did I say that?" No, just joking; I'm really a peaceful man--unlike my namesake, I add for sensuality.

Life in Lake Flaccid is bubbling along majestically. The weather has been sticky but not mildewy, which is a blessing. I try to write like a country squire, like Washington Irving, but I can't. I'm a city boy trapped in the Upstate New York woods; I expatriated with the successful artists who left New York City and went to Woodstock, New York, in the aftermath of the Woodstock Generation's shindig on Maggie's Farm--like Todd Rundgren, Richie Havens, those guys--and Bearsville came about and the great Bear Restaurant when it was young and cool and agreeable to New York City artist transplants looking for open-air freedom in Woodstock or Phonecia or over into Sullivan County where Woodstock really happened and where Allen Ginsberg's farm was. A lot of New York City artists and musicians went up to Woodstock with saved up cash and we bought houses and land and old mills and barns and deconsecrated church buildings and the big colonial homes along the main drag and on the old mill stream or the mill stream pond. I bought a small house just beyond the Bear and Bearsville and the Bearsville recording studio at a place called Shady. I hated it. I hate the country. There I said it. I mean there are bugs, spiders, snakes, all the natural pests of man, mice, rats, wild dogs, feral cats, stray cows, damn tick-thick deer, an occasional black bear, dead fish floating belly up in the lake--the backflush from the bigger Saranac Lake is turning Lake Flaccid into a miasma mess! God I hate the country! But I love it, too, don't misinterpret me; I'm away from the harsh reality of the city, and by city in New York State you mean New York City and that's the city I mean, too.

Cecil the Dog-faced Boy III? Oh he's doing fine. I had a pleasant pheasant-under-glass dining experience with him about a week ago. He revealed while we were enjoying some illegal Cuban cigars after the meal that his sister, Patsy, and I never knew he had a sister, is coming for a brief visit. Seems years ago they had a breaking up after Patsy attempted to get her kid brother well groomed, you know, tried to convert him from dominate dog to dominate human. Cecil resented it all of his life, though he said recently he and his sister had been burying the hachet. So we'll see. He says I will certainly be invited over to meet her--he's planning a welcoming banquet for her. Like I say, we'll see. The pheasant under glass by the way was utterly divine. Melted in my mouth. Cecil joked about how since the bird had come from western Nebraska that perhaps Unka Dick Cheney had shot it. I joked back that Unka Dick shot judges in the face and not pheasants in the air. But, it was a sumptuous experience. When's the last time you had pheasant under glass?

Now for some Jots & Tittles
Jots & Tittles
--Sonia Sotomayor is not a judicial activist. She's a middle-of-the-roader, the type President Obama is insistent upon having in his administration--compromisers--that "Come let us reason together" mentality Lyndon Johnson promoted during his Great Society moment right after he became president on the heels of JFK's New Frontier PR effort.

Sotomayor was a New York City assistant D.A. under old almost-fossilized, he's 90 years old, Manhattan D.A. Bob Morganthau. As an assistant D.A. she was a prosecutor. A criminal prosecutor. This is a huge area of legal controversy. Being a D.A. is a first-step to movin' on up in the world of law and politics. Tom Dewey was a D.A. before he zoomed to the top of the Grand Old Party. John Kerry was a D.A. There's a lot of political hanky-panky that goes on in a D.A.'s office, especially a big time D.A.'s office like Morganthau's. One thing about Morganthau, he's been so old most of his term as D.A., which has been forever, he's satisfied with that being his highest ambition. However, being an assistant D.A. under Bob Morganthau was certainly a boon to Miss Sotomayor's jurisprudence career. Old Pappy Bush promoted Miss Sotomayor to the Federal bench, the Southern District of New York, the big district.

Pappy Bush, as I must remind you, is the father of the New World Order, the Thousand Points of Light speech, the calling of David Stockman/Milton Friedman/Ronald Reagan economics voodoonomics, the presenter of the "Read My Lips" speech, the president who got into the worst national debt ever until his small-brained son, George W. (for weasel), took the reins and drove us into irretrievable debt. I must remind you also that Pappy Bush is a former head of the CIA, a former ambassador to Commie China, and former vice president under Ronald Reagan--during his Alzheimer's years--he was vice president during the Iran Contra mess (the same Iran)--he was the president who killed 400 innocent Panamanians when Pappy ordered a bombing raid on Panama City because his pal, General Noriega, has ripped him off or something--he was the president who led us into the Persian Gulf War (the same Iraq), a war that though it didn't get many of our troops killed did bring hundreds of thousands of them home with something strange and new eventually called The Gulf War Syndrome, a devastating neurological condition that some say was caused by those soldiers being exposed to Saddam's biological warfare chemicals that a lot of troops participated in destroying and letting loose into that desert air, biological germ and chemical war tools that Pappy Bush and Reagan had sold Saddam (remember Pappy called him "Sad-DAM Hoo-sane")--otherwise how did a bushwhacker like Saddam Hussein get a hold of sophisticated biological cultures needed to create the strains needed to manufacture the poison gases and chemical grenades and mortars used to annihilate 35,000 of his own people? Have you ever wondered why the G.W. Bush administration rushed Hussein's execution so bulldozer fast? Did you ever wonder just what Hussein could have revealed about the Bush Family Empire and the greediness of the New World Order? He certainly could have explained that photo of Donald Rumsfeld shaking his hand in a big-smiles photo op session back during Pappy's time as president. Just like that photo of Pappy Bush sitting on a couch in Panama with General Noriega all smiles and palsy-walsy has never been explained. Nor was Pappy's rumored connection with Noriega's cocaine trafficking ever investigated. The Texas reporter who eventually wrote the book exposing the corruption and mean tactics used by the Bush Family Empire to promote its New World Order ended up dead by gunshot--remember the book was accepted for publication by St. Martins and Pappy Bush himself ordered them to either not publish it or feel the wrath of the Bush Family Empire come down on them and they withdrew publication. This writer was later found shot to death. Murdered? Suicide? Unsolved? A cold case now.
From freedomunderground:

4 Bush Biographers--All Suicided

by Vince Foster Sunday, Dec. 12, 2004 at 5:35 PM

Four Bush biographers, Mark Lombardi, J.H. Hatfield, Danny Casalaro, and now Gary Webb--all "suicide" victims. What are the odds all of these people actually committing suicide?

Examining the male U.S.suicide rate for recent years (www.suicidology.org/stats2001/1999datapage2.pdf), we can extrapolate a conservative estimate of 17 male suicides per 100,000 people, or 0.017%. The odds of 4 specific, male biographers committing suicide would be the 4th power of 17/100000, or 8.3521 4.913 x 10^-17...roughly 1 chance 10,000,000,000,000,000. About as good a definition of impossible as you can get. A person would stand a better chance of playing the Canadian lottery 6/49 exactly twice in one's lifetime and winning their grand jackpot BOTH TIMES! (That is, picking 6 numbers out of 49 possible numbers and matching all 6 numbers out of 6 random draws, on 2 separate occasions, and having only purchased two Canadian lottery tickets ever.) This calculation should be regarded as a conservative estimate: the actual odds against such a "coincidence" would be much greater. For example, if any of the biographers were female, the odds would be even greater.
Do you see how connected all these politicians are? Even Miss Sotomayor's rise in fame and fortune can be traced back to Pappy Bush and the Neo-Cons.

Remember now how old Pappy made his own little oil money--with money borrowed from his pappy, old Prescott Bush (a friend of Hitler's; accused of being a Nazi sympathizer). Then through his going down to Mexico after WWII, he got into the oil business.

Also, keep in mind Pappy's WWII experience as an Air Force pilot and captain. It wasn't all that heroic. When his plane crashed, Pappy bailed out and saved his ass leaving behind one of his crew to burn to death in the plane--an Air Force captain like a Navy ship captain (an airplane is sometimes refered to as a ship) is always the last to bail out after he's made sure all his crew is out of harm's way.

And in Mexico, Pappy traded in oil leases and he got good enough at it to form his Zapata Offshore Drilling Co.--actually a failed business that his family bailed him out of and talked him into getting into politics. Pappy got into Texas politics as a Republican. Before this, Texas had been a staunch Democratic state, voting lopsidedly Democrat in all elections, the last Republican to win an election in Texas had been during Reconstruction times. You know why Texas turned a staunch Republican state back at that time--the mid-1950s? Integration! Texas as a former Confederate state had embraced slavery as a White right (a State's Right--invented by a South Carolinian, John C. Calhoun and in the case of the Texas succession opposed by the then Governor of Texas, Democrat Sam Houston). Blacks since slavery had been under enforced segregation. Jim Crow was the law in Texas, a law backed wholeheartedly in those days by the Democratic Party. During the 1948 Democratic Convention, a group of Southern Democrats stood up and protested a vote on placing a plank in the Democratic Convention platform that year that called for an end to segregation. Presidential candidate Harry S. Truman had been a rabid segregationist before he got into politics. However, Harry got involved with Kansas City's political boss Jim Pendergast and Big Jim decided Harry would be a perfect candidate in a certain district in Missouri, a predominantly black district--and Harry went into that district and gladhanded his way into Missouri and national politics. From that experience, Harry had a change of heart and became a supporter of desegregation, starting off as Commander and Chief desegregating the US Armed Forces. The "liberal" Democrats, led by Hubert S. Humphrey of Minnesota, a true Liberal Democrat [the Wolf Man emails me that Hubert was a Sociologist], was leading the effort to get the desegregation plank in the Democratic platform. The Southern opposition to what would eventually rear itself up as the Civil Rights Act was led by openly racist Senator Strom Thurmond (remember after his death a black woman came forward and admitted she had been his mistress for years and had a child by his old hypocritical ass) from the great racist state of South Carolina, a state old Strom had gotten a hell of a lot of military bases and government contracts and such and old Strom was riding high when he led this opposition in the 1948 Democratic Convention. Strom and a brace of other Southern Democrat racist fools walked out of the convention. Not only walked out of the convention, but once out, started their own party, the Dixiecrat Party. They nominated as their presidential candidate, Strom Thurmond! [Remember how Trent Lott, the Mississippi racist Senator, said how he had always wished Strom Thurmond had won that election--how thing would have turned out better if that had been the case?]

Well, that was the election that Harry S. Truman squeaked past ex-NYC-D.A. Tom Dewey to an upset victory! And that was the election that drove the Dixiecrats out of the Democratic Party and Strom Thurmond crossed the aisle and announced he was now a Republican! Ironically, the Republican Party had been the party of Lincoln and the party of the Emancipation Proclamation, the party of the Reformation and Reconstruction of the South based on one man one vote no matter his race, color, or creed.

So Strom Thurmond's going over to the Republican Party brought over with him Deep South Democrats who started calling themselves Dem-Ike-Crats, which means they were voting Republican when it came to the 1952 election that catapulted General David Eisenhower into the presidency over the Governor of Illinois, the man the Republicans condemned as an Egghead, Adlai Stevenson. Adlai later would be notorious as the man who warned JFK not to go to Dallas, Texas, after he had made a speech there and had been spat on and hit with signs by Dallas's infamous rightwing fanatics. Adlai later was made ambassador to the UN by JFK, a job that eventually killed him--a job that perplexed him because he was having to argue on the threatening side of the US against the Soviet Union (it was during the height of the Cold War and the Cuban Missile Crisis), a side of aggressive argument that he didn't necessarily agree with. His famous "Till Hell Freezes Over" speech before the UN tugged on his liberal mind and eventually caused him to have a massive coronary while crossing a London street. "Be sure your sins will find you out," my Old World mother used to tell me.

And Pappy Bush was swept into Texas politics on the coattails of these turncoat racist Democrats and for the first time in a long Texas time the Republicans came to power in Texas--Pappy Bush, certainly a racist, though he does have a "little brown" daughter-in-law and it was always rumored that Pappy had several mistresses while he was oil wheeling and dealing in Mexico during his prospecting years, was elected to the Texas House and John Tower, a rabidly conservative college professor (Midwestern University) from Wichita Falls, Texas, became the first Republican Senator from Texas. John Tower later became a rich oilman thanks to his connections with the oil rich of Texas, which included Pappy Bush, who was kneeling before the truly oil rich Texans, the Rices and the Joneses and Posts down in Houston, headquarters for Texas oil. (Remember, John Tower died in a small plane crash.) And next thing you know, Mr. Bush was Mr. Texas Politics, and soon he was well heeled in both bucks and social standing, Pappy and Mammy Bush (Mammy came from a wealthy Saint Louis publishing family) became keiko-muckity-mucks in the world's Power Elite.

How's that for a Jot? Or was that a Tittle?
--How utterly stupid and inane are the Republican Senators on that committee investigating Sonia Sotomayor? How about that Alabama clodhopper, Jeff Sessions? Another ex-D.A. Turned down by this same committee when Ronnie Reagan tried to put him in a Federal judgeship! Sessions is an open racist. He hates coons and messkins and heathen and savages. He hates secular humanists and uppity Black presidents and Commies (except Communist Chinese and he has to love them since they own us) and all women, but especially a spick woman, a P.R., a Reecan! Sessions hates everything Federal. He's a States Righter! States Righters are for the slavery of Blacks under a direct order from their Great White God, Allah (whoops, I forgot, the Christians use Jehovah for Allah). Blacks to Jeff Sessions are the Sons of Ham and as such they are condemned by this Jehovah to be servants ("slaves" in Old South Plantation speak) to the Holy White Man for eternity. Since slaves aren't considered human beings by pure Whiteys like Jeff Sessions, there's no humanitarian causes involved. To Jeff Sessions, Black people like mules have no rights! According to Jeff, Blacks can be treated like mules and it's not discrimination.

And how about that cornfed Senator/Farmer from Iowa? He's a leftover from Jerry Falwell's Silent Majority. He's more concerned about his hogs than he is human beings! Women to this fool belong pregnant and in the kitchen with an apron on cookin' up some of those good ole Iowa pigmeat and shucked-corn dinners! "Be sure and give me four of them center cuts and a whole heppin' of them spuds, too, honey." [With apologies to the Wolf Man who is a sometimes resident of Davenport, Iowa. And we know that one of his gal pals is a graduate of Iowa U.]

And Oren Hatch! Good grief how long will that old fool be around harassing We the People with his tomfool ideas. I mean, here's a guy who is a true believer in Mormonism! These guys are openly racist and antiwoman and laissez-faire; it amazes me how their bullshit is taken so seriously by the pundits. "These Republicans are asking some pretty serious legal questions of Miss Sotomayor. So far she's stood up to them fairly well, but Senator Sessions did seem to trap her a couple of times."

Watching a Congressional hearing is like reading the comics in the Sunday newspaper or going to a clown convention!
--Check this out: the Clinton involvement in the current coup situation in Honduras. Check out a dude named Lanny Davis, a Democrat, an old Hillary Rodham Clinton pal and a Slick Willie Clinton legal adviser, especially in the Slick One's Monica-Lewinsky incident, for which the Repugs impeached poor old Bill if you recall. Who owns the cumstained dress now? Anybody know? Lanny Davis is currently before Congress representing the coup government in Honduras. Yep, Lanny, as one reporter said, "he'll do anything for money," has hired himself out as a lobbyist for the Newly Imposed Democratic Dictatorship down in Honduras, a nation that We the People have OWNED since way back in the days the U.S. Army went around the Caribbean defending the Chase Bank and the United Fruit Company. The only US army base in Mexico, Central America, and South America is in Honduras. [Yes, Guantanamo was once a US Naval Station though now it's a prison--by the way, shouldn't it be closed by now?]
--Goldman Sachs declares the largest profits in the company's history! Hot damn! Wow. You see, old Hank Paulson, ex-Goldman Sachs big shot, was right in saving Goldman Sachs from disappearance by not bailing out G-S's main competitor in the crooked banking business, Lehman Bros, and thereby letting it disappear instead of Goldman Sachs. Goldman Sachs in paying back 13 billion in its bail-out money (We the People's money) got itself excused from limited bonuses to its crooked execs. Goldman Sachs goons are thick as hops in President Obama's government. We the People haven't got one chance in hell against these Wall Street-Goldman Sachs Power Elitists. Remember what thegrowlingwolf-via-C. Wright Mills says, the Power Elitists do not consider that they make mistakes or that they are doing anything ethically or criminally wrong. Bernard Madoff went in chains into a North Carolina prison to start serving his 150-year sentence (he'll be out before then, guarantee you--or else he'll have a massive coronary like happened to Kenny Boy Lay when he hit prison) for the same ponzi scheme shit Goldman Sachs, Hank Paulson, Tim Geithner, Robert Rubin, Larry Summers, and other Clintonistas have pulled on We the People for a couple of decades now. These bastards have ROBBED US BLIND! Yet, because they rule us and govern us and control our wealth and actually write their own tickets in Washington, District of Corruption, they inevitably decide they are too big to fail. The Power Elite doesn't recognize failure. Remember they are mostly Ivy League-trained, business-school trained, and those Ivy League business schools teach the win/win philosophy of Elitist thinking--backward thinking.
--For Matt Tiabbi's Latest on The Great American Bubble Maker (Goldman Sachs):


--The Wisdom of a Great American, Eric Hoffer:
Eric Hoffer
Absolute power corrupts even when exercised for humane purposes. The benevolent despot who sees himself as a shepherd of the people still demands from others the submissiveness of sheep.
Add a few drops of malice to a half truth and you have an absolute truth.
It has often been said that power corrupts. But it is perhaps equally important to realize that weakness, too, corrupts. Power corrupts the few, while weakness corrupts the many. Hatred, malice, rudeness, intolerance, and suspicion are the faults of weakness. The resentment of the weak does not spring from any injustice done to them but from their sense of inadequacy and impotence. We cannot win the weak by sharing our wealth with them. They feel our generosity as oppression.

Failure in the management of practical affairs seems to be a qualification for success in the management of public affairs.
The real “haves” are they who can acquire freedom, self-confidence, and even riches without depriving others of them. They acquire all of these by developing and applying their potentialities. On the other hand, the real “have nots” are they who cannot have aught except by depriving others of it. They can feel free only by diminishing the freedom of others, self-confident by spreading fear and dependence among others, and rich by making others poor.
--Did anybody notice Karl Maulden died? He was 97 years old. His best role as far as I'm concerned, the role of Shooter in The Cincinnati Kid, a great old 50s movie with some of the greats, like Edward G. Robinson, Joan Blondell, Tuesday Weld, and Steve McQueen. Shot in New Orleans. One of the first-ever on-location movies was shot in New Orleans--about a typhoid-Mary-type typhoid carrier loose in old WWII New Orleans.
--From a Lexus commercial on teevee: "Acceleration Is Liberation!"
--Neuromarketing--yes, you read me right. There are 92 neuromarketing firms working worldwide. They use brain imaging (scanning the brain) to determine customer interest! Such bullshit, wouldn't you say? What they say they are developing is a "biological thinking machine," a "machine that can read the future." Mad scientists would you say?
--Old Harvard BBA Jimmy McNamara was the promoter of a battlefield electrical grid defense system.


by Peter Brush

(A version of this article appeared in Vietnam magazine, February, 1996, pp. 18-24.)


On September 7, 1967, at a press conference in Washington, DC, United States Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara announced plans for the construction of an electronic anti-infiltration barrier below the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), the line of demarcation between North and South Vietnam. The principal purpose of this "McNamara Line" would be to sound the alarm when the enemy crossed the barrier. Allied firepower in the form of air and artillery strikes would then be brought to bear upon the People's Army of Vietnam (PAVN, the North Vietnamese Army) in order to curb infiltration from the north.1 The McNamara Line represented an attempt by the US military to merge modern technology with one of the oldest defensive techniques in warfare. The US would learn that more than sophisticated technology was necessary to make an effective barrier.
------------------------------------------------------To read more:

--The crawl under Nancy Giles's name on commercial TV designated her as a "Social Commentator." Wow, that sounds like a cool job.

for The Daily Growler

1 comment:

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