Comments on: You were warned: Here comes the Thug-In-Chief

By: julie

julie — Sun, 09 Nov 2008 00:59:03 +0000

Mike says, @4, How about â€œbrilliantâ€? Or perhaps â€œsheer geniusâ€?

Yes, it does fit.

By: amfortas

amfortas — Sun, 09 Nov 2008 00:45:23 +0000

Thank you, thank you.
The ship’s prow is still bobbing in the waves.
Hang on.

Volunteering efforts have always been a notable feature of Anglophile Societies and America is no exception. The Philanthropic effort is world leading. Obama’s ‘organisation’ of this altruistic sensitivity will appeal to many, but as with all things ‘Nationalised’ for the ‘Public Good’ and directed by the Government, it will deteriorate into ‘blame’ for those who choose to exercise their soul’s passions in their own way and become a form of cheap labour for the corrupt. The recipients of such organised ‘good’ will develop expectations and dispense with gratitude and the conscripted will resent them.

From each according to his ability as the multitude drifts silently into their alloted positions on the sea floor.

By: panic

panic — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 18:47:18 +0000

Missing from the analysis:
1. what sort of indoctrination do you expect the “volunteers” to get while serving?
2. what organizations will be chosen to administer the local plans, at huge cost: Trinity United Church? Nation of Islam? Rainbow/Push? CAIR? ACORN?
3. this is a wonderful opportunity for black (and misguided white) judges as an “alternative to incarceration” sentence: just send that little pimp/thief/burglar off to Rev. Wright to be taught exactly how the white devil has ruined his life. Then, he can use this “life experience” as credentials to get funding for his own program of enforced bigotry.
4. “Obama will encourage retiring Americans to serve by improving programs available for individuals over age 55″, which of course will excuse them from seeking employment – and extend their welfare checks. Why work, when you can just listen to Leonard Jeffries explain how “the sun people are far superior to the ice people”?

By 2012 the Republicans can run Stalin, Pol Pot or Huey Long and still win.

By: Mike LaSalle

Mike LaSalle — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 17:03:29 +0000

“fantastic” is such a small word for Amfortas’ effort here. How about “brilliant”? Or perhaps “sheer genius”?

It’s a privilege, Amfortas, to serve and drown with you.

By: merck

merck — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 15:53:01 +0000

If this were four white marines, who tortured and murdered a black marine, and his beautiful white wife, it would be worn out in the media for days, if not weeks, or months, or years, on end.

You will not hear one word about this in the so-called main-stream media.

Look for much more of this to happen with a racist in the Whitehouse.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W2C8oCxMmk0

By: julie

julie — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 07:46:46 +0000

This is bad.

Fantastic poem Amfortas.

By: amfortas

amfortas — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 06:43:19 +0000

Change came in the Morning.

We were not ready.
We were distracted.
Exhausted.
Battle had taken its toll
The Family barely survived.
But the children played.

Malevolent Smile.
She was Ready.
Definite. Ordered.
The Blue Pencil, poised.
Poisoned.

The first was Fair, our childhoodâ€™s most cherished friend:
Resolver of squabbles, distributor, sharer,
Fair cared for all:
a string of rubies around her doomed, pale and lovely neck.
It was so sad.
They said it was consumption.
All used up, in tatters, shrouded,
she just faded away.

Next to go was that sturdy, quarrelsome Equality, which surprised us all
as he was so in demand, they said,
by all,
especially some;
aye, and relied upon.
For so many years a staunch friend and fighter.

His burial dressage, a white cheesecloth, yoked neck.
Naked beneath,
his scarred skin a testament.
Parchment.
Burned Beyond Recognition.

Truth tried hard.
Was Tried. Hard.
Derided, Derrida-ed,
denied existence;
perjured,
Falsely accused,
she struggled
as she was garrotted.

Died hard.

Soon after that, Justice
suicided off a nearby cliff.
Lover’s Leap, a place then
from which many a couple had gazed out,
seeking the broader vista.
Now has Disabled Access.

Was it in despair?
Perhaps sympathy with the others.

No-one saw her silent fall.
Was she pushed?
Who could gain?
Her handmaids will argue for a time and time,
billing Innocence by the hour,
Kept in chains, for gain.

The old, wise man, Honour, lost his marbles, they said.
He languished as the village idiot for a while,
The butt of jokes and calumnies.
Taunted.

His body was found in a ditch one day.
Starvation.
They left it there.

The loss of these good companions all
has been followed now
by Liberty and Freedom,
two noble and leathery old soldiers.

They put on their dress uniforms, immaculate,
faced each other squarely and
blew each otherâ€™s brains out.
Such fine shots, both.

They left a note. Signed as written together.
They could no longer support the malignancy of the vile regime,
the note said.
They felt duty-bound to remove themselves
from further abuse,
the note said.

They took Duty with them.

An Altar was discovered in the woods
On which the charred bones of hermaphrodite Trust
Were found,
Sacrificed to Narcissus, elevated to the Pantheon.
Tears flowed down Olympusâ€™ stony sides.

Even God cries.

After, there was Laughter, Music, Whine.
High pitched.
So much fun.
The departed were only words
After all.

Oppressive words.
Now dead.
Like Fathers.
Dead, white males.

What, three were maids?
So? Whatever, said the wenches.

No one noticed Love fall to her knees.
Her calls for help were drowned by song.
Trampled to death under dancing feet.
The last to succumb.

Four.

The surging mob, with popular will,
Tied Democracyâ€™s hands, and,
fattened and degraded on suet foie gras
trotted it to the abattoir.

The Impostor was on the scene quickly.
Ready, Definite.
Re-defined.
By Order. She said.
Scripted.

The Princess of Lies rides
over barren lands.
Long hair her spider-silk, chain-mail
down her back.
Across her breast,
Over her steedâ€™s flank.
Hooves on skulls.

The children gabble and cry.
No words
describe
their pain.

They were
forbidden.