When Storms and Lies Converge

More is better?  Not according to the latest "storm of the century" attired in the persona of Hurricane Sandy.  Every time these disasters occur, I can only wonder why anybody wants more people and more wretched construction added to habitable land space on this precious little planet.  Yes, climate change is real, and always has been a factor in territorial alterations -- and pleased as some are to blame human activity and carbon dioxide effected by the same, I wouldn't be too quick to rule out the sun, currently surprising scientists on a regular basis.  But no, more is not always better.

National elections are upon us after what seem years of campaigns, and even hurricanes appear to herald storms of electorate disenchantment.  The President promises help to storm victims -- as any president would.  In his latest "Sandy" speech, he promises to leave no one behind, words of comfort which should have meant something to our people murdered in Benghazi under this fraud.

Delay the elections due to storm disasters?  I think there are a fair number among us who would prefer not to have elections at all.  Particularly those who already detect the fear of losing, or the humiliation of being found out as the frauds they are.

Nevertheless, as this bunch does everything they can to divert our attention from the massacre of U.S. personnel in Benghazi, Libya until after the elections here in the states, its loyal perpetrators continue to disregard Big Lie No.One -- the almost instantaneous declaration from the President, Mrs. Clinton and Susan Rice that all of this erupted because of a video making rounds on the Internet.  Liars!  A lie the President continued to circulate for days, even when most of the thinking world realized there was no video involved -- a lie pretty much awarded the Presidential Seal when Obama and Clinton recorded an apologetic response regarding the irrelevant video for Middle Easterners, a totally unnecessary recording destined to be used for years by Al Qaeda and its friends to condemn the U.S.

Maybe that was easy, in comparison to making a grudging admission that Islamic terrorism still exists in force.  Besides, that sort of language has already been scrubbed from official training manuals, or so we've been told.  Offensive descriptions hurt so much, especially when true.

Then, while radio stations all over the nation were buzzing with news on Friday, October 26 about three futile (turned down) emergent requests for military assistance from the CIA in Benghazi as the seven-hour battle began -- based upon newly released CIA memos -- major commercial TV networks couldn't be bothered to explore or even mention this astounding revelation on their evening news shows.  Networks seem overwhelmingly content simply to feature the ever-entertaining President Obama on numerous TV talk shows as he mouths clever, yet meaningless quips and engages in smiles for the cameras.  After all, he is the President of Entertainment, attracting rock star endorsements like bacteria-ridden chewing gum on a shoe, clowning around for Jay, Dave (who, to his credit, finally smelled just a wisp of a lie and mentioned it on his show the day after Obama's appearance) and for all the young TV viewers cloned from birth to prefer laughs over substance, and one-liners over the explosion of  government debt they'll have to pay off once the humor fades away unapologetically.

Yes, much of the entertainment industry sides with Obama.  People who specialize in fantasy and the world of pretend every day of their lives.  No wonder they feel a comfy kinship, a symbiosis with Obama.  Obama, the President who used the military to his advantage with bin Laden's demise.  Obama, the President whose twisted leadership may have gotten dedicated military and others in Benghazi killed -- at the very least, in Benghazi.

What happened to presidential press conferences?  One begins to think of Jay Carney as president -- or as the object of Obama's ventriloquism skills.  Truth likely is, BHO doesn't want to face a growing, stinking heap of questions about his decisions, his philosophy.  It's all falling apart.  Will voters bother to care? 

Maybe some of a political ilk are thanking God for the hurricane as I write this.

In the meantime, the father of a former Navy SEAL who died during the carnage related details of his strange encounter with Obama, Clinton and Biden as his son's body was returned to the U.S., and his account of their actions and words was, to say the least, disturbing.  You've heard about it by now, assuming you tune in to sources which regularly disclose this sort of thing.

And the Secretary of Defense?  Panetta makes excuses for inaction, appearing to all the world as if the only thing he's good at defending is Obama's legacy.

So who's "investigating" now?  Pickering, an apologist for Iran's American tools and Muslim extremists, it is suggested.  This will go nicely.  Why not simply employ a pack of rats to pick through the facts until nothing substantial remains, leaving Obama's directives from the top smelling like Teflon roses immune to the odor of intended or incompetent negligence?

Speaking of investigations, whatever happened to an in-depth look at that helicopter crash, the chopper packed with far too many Navy SEALS who perished, one and all?

So, I'm just wondering when some of those Hollywood folk -- the specialists who love to make blockbuster films extolling the hatred of America -- will jump on this one. . .?  Will somebody come forward with a huge budget and, for a change, portray this Administration's liars whose conflicted policies, from all appearances, helped facilitate the murder of four Americans in Benghazi as real-time drone videos and instant messages showed White House higher-ups a situation begging for immediate military strike force response?   These people's lives might have been saved with quick action, from most accounts, because the military power was within reach -- and this Administration had to know it, just as they knew via live TV images within an hour what was happening in Libya on that fateful 9/11/12. 

Surely, down there in the White House situation room, nobody misses a single episode of the President when he mugs for the cameras and shows off for audience-fortified TV comedians?  Perhaps live video from Benghazi just wasn't equally photogenic. Or as funny.

Who gave the orders, repeatedly, not to save these Americans?  Who?  Who?  The CIA denies responsibility for the decision, as do military officials.  I'm no genius, but if that's the case, wouldn't that lead right to . . .?

Incompetence?  Criminal activity?  Treason?  Treason sounds about right.  As I recall, certain prisons exist for this sort of thing.  Will Congress have the gonads to do what's right, or must U.S. military and civilian personnel around the world feel a draft at their backs because nobody in an Administration of bastards will promise cover, lest some Muslim faction or other entities might be offended?

Covert gun-running via our enemies in the Middle East?.  Is that a major component here?

The U.S. is16 trillion dollars in debt and at least four trillion more may be on the way if elections repeat.  Dangerous to America as we know it.  Political ideation that failed in every nation where it was ever tried.  Immigrants -- legal immigrants -- from other countries who fear we are quickly becoming exactly what they escaped from. . .and they plead, will we listen, will anybody listen?  Party loyalty, my-party-right-or-wrong, will destroy us.  And all we do is build more stadiums and athletic facilities to cloud minds from making clear choices.

The only possible vestige of respect I could muster for this President would involve his resignation.  Fat chance, I ponder. Liars and lies often seem to find a way to hang on in politics, thanks to a willingly uninformed population. 

The military dead?  The ones whose families reportedly receive something akin to form letters of sympathy from the President signed with an auto pen?  The ones whose families allegedly are greeted by a seemingly detached President as coffins return?  The military dead appear to matter as much to this gang as the words, thank you for your service, and from this bunch even those words equate to little more than the sounds of fingernails on a blackboard.

More Than Anything (A Story for Halloween)

A few lines down, you’ll find my (fiction) Halloween story, “More Than Anything.” It’s an appropriate title for more than one reason, because – more than anything – I would love to see this lying, arrogant White House gang defeated on Election Day. Reports have come to light indicating that we had a Predator drone overflying the Libyan embassy during the carnage, thus providing live, real-time video – but Mr. Obama and his crew claim to know nothing about the circumstances until the “investigation” concludes. In the meantime, desperate for votes, Obama obviously hid behind a woman’s skirts and instructed Hillary Clinton to take the fall regarding the embassy massacre. Frankly, I’m betting that the Clintons despise this President more than the plague itself – but in politics strange bedfellows are made, yes? Nevertheless, for all the lies and all the trauma Obama has caused this nation, the one particularly unforgiveable action he has taken time and again is to embrace the Muslim Brotherhood, whose organization is working as fast as possible to reinitiate radical Islamic law – Sharia – throughout the Middle East.  Can you say Caliphate? This dangerous turn of events will put the United States in danger’s path for years to come. These lying frauds in the White House must go away quickly. How can patriotic Democrats concerned about the future support this bunch in any way, now that we know about a plethora of outrageous actions and lies? Sometime AFTER the elections, the legal fur may fly over both Libya and “Fast and Furious” (which, make no mistake, was an Obama-Era project).

NO PLANE RIDE FOR GARY MCKINNON? Looks as though England made the final decision and will not extradite computer hacker Gary McKinnon to the USA for trial. You will recall that he hacked U.S. government Web sites, claiming to be searching for UFO evidence – and believes he discovered some interesting material at a NASA Web page. As my previous blog entries stated, I’d rather my government concentrate on bigger fish, and maybe they need to hire this guy, since he’s obviously smarter than government folk entrusted to protecting sensitive material from said hackers. Then again, I’m rather disappointed that he won’t be here because I could go absolutely bonkers over a – we could hope – public trial which might induce officials to legally release UFO information through no choice of their own. Of course, we all know better, because any such revelations would be squashed, maybe even Behind Closed Doors of government legal proceedings. Anyway – have a nice life, Gary McKinnon, you sure showed ‘em, I guess. And, for the record, if my government’s on that warpath, I’d much prefer they pursue that little wussie, Julian Assange, and grab that insect with the best high-tech tweezers available. Now. . .on to some really bad fiction below . . .at your own risk. . .






More Than Anything

(Fiction) by Robert Barrow

(copyright 2012)


Strong winds nipped teasingly at the town's outermost edge, but the worst part of the whole storm was the fierce velocity of a driving, relentless rain, almost horizontal in direction. So loudly did unrestrained late evening raindrops pelt their front door that Ken and Patricia were, at first, unaware of the knocking sounds.


"What is that noise?" asked Patricia, nervously gulping down the last of her coffee.


"Prob'ly just the rain," replied her husband. Their childless marriage had almost reached the 20 year mark, and during that time Ken had learned that an occasional "prob'ly" was enough to deter his wife's questions. Not this time, however.


Then they both heard the sounds, and realized that some person bravely enduring the pounding watery deluge waited just outside of the warm, dry and inviting living room. Patricia started to rise, but Ken motioned for her to remain seated as he left the table to explore further.


Carefully opening the chain-bolted door after turning on an exterior light, Ken peered out into a moderately lighted rain-driven world to behold what appeared an adult woman and male child, likely drenched to the bone through their clothing. Unchaining the door, he beckoned them inside.


Patricia got up from the dining room table and entered the living room, curious about Ken opening the door on such a stormy night. She arrived just in time to watch the entrance of an old woman covered in dark clothing and an unrevealing black scarf over her head, and stepping in behind her was a thin young boy of perhaps 12 years, long strands of black hair dripping with rain as his dark pants and shirt shivered in tune with his chilled body.


"Good lord," announced Ken, shutting the door behind them, "this is no night fit for anybody to be outside! Are you two okay?"


The old woman nodded, keeping her head low. "We. . .we had an accident," she explained with something of an Eastern European accent. "At the bottom of the hill. I. . . called friends to come and pick us up, and since the car is stuck in mud, they will pull it out. It may take a few hours for them to come here."


"Oh," sympathized Patricia, "you poor things. Why don't you stay here until your friends arrive? Dry off and warm up a bit."


"Thank you," replied the woman, looking at the child for a moment, then looking back to the floor, "but I must stay with the car. But. . .I wonder. . ."


"Just ask," Ken encouraged, "we're happy to help."


"You're very kind," responded the woman. "I wonder if my grandson, Ilyich, may remain with you until the early morning, when my friends are sure to have rescued our automobile from this terrible night."


Ken and Patricia looked at one another and then nodded in agreement. "Certainly," assured Patricia, "it will be our pleasure, and we have a spare bedroom all ready for him. Are you sure you won't stay with us?"


"Oh, thank you so much -- but no, I really must go back to the car. Our luggage and personal items. . ."


"But grandmother," protested the boy, his voice also flavored with a slight accent, "they won't understand -- they won't let me. . ." His grandmother shot him a look of disapproval.


"Oh, nonsense," countered Ken. "We'll do everything we can to make you comfortable here, Ilya."


"Ilyich. My name is Ilyich," corrected the boy.


"Of course. Well, in any event, Mrs. . .or Miss. . .Ms?" The woman did not offer a name.



"Thank you. I will return in the morning," she said, kissing her grandson on the forehead and quickly exiting the house. Patricia ran to the door, hoping to convince the determined woman to remain, but seemingly in the wink of an eye she had disappeared.


The couple turned their attention back to the boy, leading him to the spare bedroom and a couple of bath towels to soak up the evening's rain.


"There," said Patricia, soaking up the last of numerous raindrops from the boy's face, "That's better, isn't it?" The boy nodded in silence, his facial expression stoic and his head drooping. "Would you -- here we are -- would you like to change into these pajamas? They're my husband's, so they might be a bit roomy. . ."


"No, I am okay like this," replied the boy, his clothes obviously soaked through.


"Well, I'll leave these with you, just in case you change your mind." Ilyich said nothing.



"Are you tired? You can climb into this bed and get some rest if you like," suggested Patricia.


"No, I am not tired. I often stay up late at night and do things."


Patricia looked at her watch, surprised to find the time already advanced to nearly midnight. "Oh? What do you like to do?"


Ilyich at last showed a little emotion, a faint smile curling across his lips as he raised his head. "I love to draw," he said. "I'm exceptional at it, my grandmother says."


"Oh, how lovely, Ilyich! I love to draw, too. What do you like to draw?


Ilyich considered the question, then spoke softly. "I always draw from. . .real life. . .people."


"Portraits?" Patricia inquired enthusiastically. She was thrilled to meet a young person with interests similar to hers.


"I just draw."


"Marvelous! Ilyich. if you really aren't tired, please, come with me to our den downstairs and show me what you can do."


"Now?"


"Yes, yes. My husband will be so happy to know you share our appreciation for art. Follow me."


Ilyich obediently trailed Patricia as she descended the staircase.


"Pat, you have a shadow behind you," Ken said, feeling particularly clever.


"Oh Ken, this is so wonderful -- Ilyich loves to draw, and he's going to honor us with a sample of his work."


"But it's late. Shouldn't he be sleeping?"


"What's an extra few minutes, Ken? He'll be fine."


"Well, okay -- but I'm going to bed, so you two can explore the art world without me, if you don't mind," Ken said with a yawn. "Do you really enjoy drawing, Ilya?"


"ILYICH!" the boy responded, emphasizing the correction forcefully this time.


"Sorry," squeaked Ken, startled by the boy's brief outburst.


"I do enjoy drawing," Ilyich added. "More than anything."


"Okay, well, goodnight, and we'll hope for an early return of your grandmother in the morning." Ken flashed Patricia a brief facial expression one could only interpret as "What the. . .?" and then he turned and headed for an upstairs bedroom. The door closed.


"Yes, well, come in here, Ilyich," beckoned Patricia as she entered the den. Ilyich was amazed to see all manner of charcoal pencils, paints, brushes and a wealth of artist's paraphernalia. "As you can see, I spend a lot of time in here. I've done a lot of paintings and pencil drawings -- I've even sold a few of them at local art shows. Not that I'm anybody with any special talent. I just like to paint and draw."


"I love to draw, too," assured Ilyich.


"And I must see a sample of your work, right now," she responded, grabbing a sheet of paper and charcoal pencils of varying kinds. She placed them on a table and invited Ilyich to be seated. Instead, the boy looked up at her face, puzzled. "What is it? Is something wrong?"


Ilyich returned his gaze to the pencils, now lined up neatly on the table. "These? I cannot draw with these," he said, shaking his head.


"But -- oh, maybe charcoal isn't your forte?" Patricia assumed.


"These. . .they're all wrong. I cannot use."


"Well," she began, considering the strangeness of the boy standing before her," maybe you. . .maybe you prefer. . .hmm. . .let me see. . .oh, how about these?" From a top shelf Patricia selected a few colored marking pens and attempted to hand them to Ilyich, but he wouldn't budge. "Here, take them."


This time the boy shot Patricia an impatient glance and raised his voice. "All wrong, CANNOT use."


"But -- but I thought you liked to draw?" Would you prefer painting instead? Or crayons? Colored pencils?


"No. I love to draw. Not with those. I cannot!" Ilyich shouted.


Exasperated, Patricia threw up her hands, inadvertently sending marking pens flying in all directions. "Alright, Ilyich. You're probably tired. We'll give up on the artistry tonight -- maybe you'd rather just go to bed."


"Yes," he replied, calming himself, "that would be best."


Patricia put the boy to bed upstairs and retreated to her own bedroom, down just one room from her sleeping husband. She could still hear the rain smacking into the home's exterior surface, though the storm's intensity had begun to subside dramatically. Tired from emotionally sparring with Ilyich, Patricia collapsed onto the bed and promptly fell asleep, having not even bothered to change into her sleeping attire.



o o



Neither Ken nor Patricia woke up as the three o'clock hour approached, perhaps soothed in their rest by sounds of the now gently falling rain. They didn't hear the footsteps as Ilyich made his way throughout the house in near darkness. Strangely, the paucity of light hardly mattered to Ilyich, who seemed driven to locate something, something previously unmentioned to or by his kind hosts. From room to room he progressed, looking, searching, wanting. Until he found exactly what he longed for. A whisper barely rolled from his lips as he mouthed the words: "I love to draw. I so love to draw."



o o



As a morning without rain finally arrived, the sun hadn't even climbed over the eastern horizon when a seasoned, beat-up black sedan driven by the old woman, accompanied by grandson Ilyich, drove slowly away on a sleepy vacant highway. One would hardly recognize Ilyich, whose formerly gloomy and downcast persona had been replaced by emotions of joy and laughter. Perhaps his change from newly drenched clothing to dry garments brightened him. The old woman merely sighed in contentment. "Those people -- they did bid you welcome and were good to you?"


"Yes, grandmother," Ilyich replied, "I do not think they understood me well -- but everything worked out before I left. They did know that I love to draw, and the woman seemed to be familiar with drawing in her own way. Not like me."


"That is good, Ilyich. So many people we find who like what you love in their own way. Do not worry, grandson, we will find more, many more."


"It is to be hoped," said Ilyich, folding his arms as he stared out the window. "What a country is this."


"Maybe it is true -- that you can become anything in the United States if you work at it," advised his grandmother with a smile. “You could even be president. If only your parents could have lived to see this.”

Ilyich scowled for a moment, but then laughed and closed his eyes, basking in sweet reminiscence of the hospitality shown him by the kind, accommodating couple.



o o



It wasn't until late afternoon when Ken and Patricia's driveway filled with law enforcement vehicles and ambulances. Neither had reported for work, and concerned employers, phoning unsuccessfully, at last visited the home to determine the reason. Authorities were summoned immediately when blood stains became evident as the door, left ajar, was pushed open further.


"Oh, wow," exclaimed a forensics technician, carefully entering the house to avoid the destruction of evidence. "Look at this place!"


"That's nothing," promised a sheriff's deputy near the stairway. "Wait until you go up there." He pointed to the top of the stairs. "Blood everywhere, looks like an explosion at a pasta sauce factory."


"What the hell happened here?" asked the almost incredulous technician.


The deputy shook his head. "Don't know yet, no suspects, several knives used -- apparently taken from the kitchen. No valuables or cash missing, so far. We don't even know how many were in on the murders yet. Possibly one, seems to have taken a shower, but for one person to do all of this. . ."


"Yeah. Well, I guess I'd better get to work. Good lord, what kind of maniac could create this much brutality?!"


"It's almost beyond belief," said the deputy. "Whoever displayed the depraved ability to cut other humans up like dog meat obviously has a penchant for this kind of behavior. But one thing's for sure."


“Yeah?”


“Somebody sure loved to draw blood."


"I guess they'd have to," said the forensics tech, shaking his head as he carefully ascended the staircase, "damned shame though.”

-- END --



A Thousand Faces - Part 2 of 2

As movies progressed from their infancy, there was one man in particular, Lon Chaney, who aptly demonstrated his genius through creative makeup and dramatic artistry, becoming an early human special effects device.  The photos posted today range from "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" to "The Pride of the Marines" (autographed to somebody), and I've forgotten the titles of the others.  A couple of photos are apparently just publicity pictures showing Chaney as himself. 

In his day, which we mistakenly like to think of as simpler times, Chaney accomplished roles which readily scared theatergoers out of their seats.  He was truly a movie star.

(Next time:  A Halloween story I wrote a few days ago.  Remember -- no refunds if you're disappointed.)

A Thousand Faces - Part 1 of 2

 (Note:  I’ve left a few political comments about other issues, including UFO “disclosure,” at the conclusion of today’s tribute. . .)

As a kid in the fifties, I became a faithful reader of the magazine, Famous Monsters of Filmland.  The first issue I ever read was number eight, and I was so fascinated with the contents and thumbed through it so often that I had to staple the pages back together when it fell apart.  Well, that event didn't actually happen because of all the articles and pictures -- it was a piece on silent (mostly) film actor Lon Chaney that kept me returning to those pages.  Maybe it was the pictorial layout, showing a face shot of Chaney as "The Phantom of the Opera," (1925) coupled with a haunting moment showing Chaney in a vampire-like pose from "London After Midnight (unless something has changed historically, the last print of this 1927 classic perished decades ago, leaving behind only black and white stills to tell the story).

"Man of a Thousand Faces," starring James Cagney would be produced years later, as Cagney played the part of Lon Chaney in this major movie bio-drama, giving theater audiences a taste of the late actor's many film characterizations.  Finding the movie LP music soundtrack a few years ago was a plus for me.

Chaney, who died of throat cancer, was noted particularly for the extremes he would undergo in the application of both makeup and devices which tortured and contorted his body into almost unimaginable positions (his rendition of "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" is a prime example of a grotesque and painful bodily manipulation, as was his need in another performance to bend his legs so as to appear an amputee -- when Chaney reportedly trussed himself up tightly enough to dangerously threaten blood circulation, if I recall correctly from my old readings). 

Lon Chaney probably had a childhood filled with the need to express pathos and invent characters and situations because both of his parents were deaf and unable to speak.  His life was destined to be difficult and vastly different from other children's lives from the moment he was born in 1883 in Colorado.

A visit to Lon Chaney's page at imdb.com reveals a dizzying list of motion pictures beginning in 1912, a list seemingly without end as one scrolls down and down and down.

His son, Lon Chaney, Jr.(a head full of useless knowledge reminds me that he was born Creighton Tull Chaney) probably had more fun than his dad because he got the gig roles in those Werewolf/Frankenstein/Dracula movies for Universal Pictures -- and, bonus, these were all "talkies."

During this Halloween month, I'm posting all the Lon Chaney photos in my collection of small proof sheet displays, acquired when I was a kid.  Sorry that some are a little tilted, that's just the way they ended up in the scanner because I wasn't about to risk taping or affixing them to anything due to their age.

This is the first of two intended photo pages, the other to follow in a few days.  Today's photos concentrate mainly on the silent classic, "The Phantom of the Opera," and without exploring the Net I don't recall the title of the movie starring Chaney as a ventriloquist -- there was a time when I could readily identify all the pictures, but that was over 50 years ago.  Cursed time, it  doesn't simply march on, it sprints.

DISCLOSURE ISN’T WHAT IT DIDN’T USED TO BE:  To you folk wringing your hands and waiting for the Obama bunch to present a UFO tell-all, just keep in mind that these are the same people who apparently ignored frantic requests from our embassy personnel in Libya to provide increased protection months before our embassy grounds were violated and American lives taken, and in fact had already withdrawn security personnel who might have made a difference.  And if the best they can do to reassure another four years in the White House is to throw Sesame Street’s “Big Bird” into a campaign commercial, while the Middle East burns directly via Obama’s misguided or incompetent policies, they surely don’t give a damn about disclosing anything to you except requests for campaign funds.

Now we find what everybody with a functioning mind realized from the start – that the much touted anti-Muslim video had nothing whatsoever to do with what was, indeed, a well-planned attack in Libya, and everybody from the President to Hillary Clinton to Susan Rice to Jay Carney and, I’m sure, a host of others behind the scenes gave us a bold-faced lie from the beginning.  Lies, frauds, that’s what this Administration seems to be all about.  I have friends who are faithful Democrats, and I’ve no love for what the Republicans and George Bush put us through, but as an Independent voter who used to embrace Democrat ideas, I have to say – the Democrat party seems to have been sequestered and infected with political organisms intent upon running this country into the ground, whether by design or (doubtful) accident.

For what it’s worth, the gentleman who made the video in question is a Coptic Christian, and despite his faults and violations of law, keep in mind that he likely had seen enough of other Coptics being slaughtered by the wonderful Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt – an activity still engaged in enthusiastically as I write this.

Nevertheless, there was Obama and there was Hillary Clinton, taping an unnecessary and absurd  apology to the Middle East for the irrelevant video, once again finding reason to make the USA the culprit.  And what’s this nonsense in the United Nations, approved by Mrs. Clinton, a resolution to make it a crime to criticize Islam?  This would have to be approved by our Senate, of course, and I hope they still remember we have a First Amendment if a vote comes up.  This just sounds too outrageous to be believed, actually.

I just wish one or two high-ranking, familiar faces from the Democrat side -- and I feel the same about the Republicans, but their time isn't now -- would step forward and just admit what a fraud the whole thing is and what a pathetic, if not dangerous, occupant currently resides in the White House.  I'm telling ya, those people would be national heroes overnight for speaking the truth, political parties be damned.  I think we're so close to using the word treason right now that I can't imagine what's going to happen next.  Impeachment would be nice, I guess.  Prison might be better for some.  If the American  people don't understand that we just experienced the biggest overt lie of Mr. Obama's presidency, complicit with numerous players, then another four years may be well deserved for those folks. 

THE PERFECT BOMB FOR ALL OCCASIONS?  Well, if one MUST blast some errant civilization into the Stone Age, I still think my preference would be the neutron bomb, but having once served in the Air Force I was more than a little curious a few years ago when news reports indicated that the USAF was working on the “gay bomb,” a chemical device which somehow would turn enemy troops temporarily gay and insistent upon having same-gender relations.  Supposedly, this grand idea went down in flames when its troubled research existence became public knowledge, but a part of me hopes it survived and went to Israel so that Israel can drop a few of them on Iran, should push come to shove.  In a country run by insane mullahs and an Iranian president who insists there are no homosexuals in Iran (um, that would probably be because they are executed routinely), I’d pay to see these human throwbacks chemically bombed into doing what they hate the most, knowing they would have no religious alternative but to kill one another later on when they realize their actions.  If the pheromone can be mightier than the atom, why resort to nuclear destruction when you have a gay bomb?

CALLING ASPIRING ARTISTS WILLING TO DIE FOR THEIR EFFORTS:  If you pay really close attention to United Nations buffoons and the radical Islamic element, you’ll find a trend calling for the world – including the United States, oh, particularly the USA – to outlaw speech critical of Islam.  That would seem a bit problematic when put up next to our First Amendment rights, but you know how things are these days, what with the Obama bunch and such who just want to play nice with everybody in the global neighborhood, no matter what. 

The rad Muslims go bonkers when anybody attempts to depict the prophet Mohammad in art, a problem Christians don’t seem to have when it comes to Jesus.  I think what we need is for artists around the world, by the hundreds of thousands, to flood the Internet every day with fresh  impressions of Mohammad, Jesus and any other religious figures who come to mind – especially Mohammad, though.  How about multiple Facebook pages for Mohammad, facial impressions colorfully depicted, with vivid descriptions of his reportedly sordid life?  This kind of stuff will drive the extremists nuts, and artists may well be killed for their work by throwback sub-humans, but once there’s a depiction of Mohammad and his story on every Web page, much of the world will get an education of which it was unaware (well, until nations tear down the Web pages).  Maybe the winner of the best drawing of Mohammad could get a trip to Disney World or Hollywood or something.

THE SANDUSKY LESSON:  Penn State’s Jerry Sandusky is off to the slammer for 30-60 years.  The legal system industry sure showed him and other pedophiles, didn’t they?  On a personal and victim level, I’m sure some felt he deserved nothing less, and probably more.  But what is the lesson – reinforced – here?  Same as always, with boldness.  The tendency to hand out these incredibly lengthy sentences in similar instances might send out the wrong message – that is, if somebody intends to expose young children to sexual encounters, the stakes are higher.  After the deed is done, maybe better to shut the victim up for good.  Maybe better to destroy the evidence so that nothing is ever found, not ever.  Considering the alternative, maybe it’s worth the risk.  And so, before society continues imprisoning people and throwing away the key based upon predatory sexual activities (aren't all sexual activities predatory?), maybe the real question to ask parents intent upon maximum justice for such things would be – Would they rather have their child returned sexually violated but alive. . .or would they prefer sexually violated and dead, or not ever found at all?  This, I suspect, is never a question posed by district attorneys or judges running for re-election under the lucrative, vote-producing flag of child abuse.  Sorry, I’m getting too old not to be blunt.

Mainlining with The Fourth Estate

(Breaking News:  Last night's first presidential debate. . .I'm sure this morning that the world abounds with disappointed Marxists, communists and fascists, and I presume Castro and Chavez have headaches.  I don't know where all of this will lead, but I certainly don't want four more years of the current national infestation.)

Finding major news events -- not reported by the U.S. mainstream media -- in British newspapers and the like is not uncommon, certainly when UFO reports are involved.  And when it comes to President Obama, well, you can almost bet that major American TV networks and newspapers will go to extremes to either exclude or pretty up the Obama Administration's flaws and failures.  The free press sometimes become the free pass, and that critter lives, alive and well, in certain remnants of American journalism.  Unfortunately.

That's why I was more than gratified when Mr. Obama was almost steam-grilled by Univision TV reporters a few days ago regarding the "Fast and Furious" gun-running issue, and the questions weren't coated in sugar -- as they so often are.  Soon thereafter, as even more evidence came to light via Mexican investigations, we learned that 16 young people attending a birthday party had their lives blown away by thugs using "Fast and Furious" guns, and the carnage among innocent Mexicans apparently didn't stop there, if we can accept what appears to be coming to light.  One Univision journalist even asked Mr. Obama, as if a natural common sense question, shouldn't Attorney General Eric Holder be fired? 

Yes, he should, and one doubts he should walk the exit path by himself.  Where are the American media?

In the meantime, the U.S. mainstream media could apparently give a damn, tied up as they are with The Campaign and Obama's Image, which must be protected and enhanced at all costs, even as yet another border patrol agent is ambushed, outgunned and murdered in Arizona, and as word emerges that folks at the Libyan embassy pretty much begged for extra security on multiple occasions for months and were denied.  The deaths?  We're investigating, claims the White House -- but how?  Last I heard, nobody in Libya even wants to talk about the murders with U.S. officials.  Why would they?  Or do we smell the odor of  complicity?  Why was the ambassador there in the first place?  WTF?  Shouldn't the U.S. media be all over this?  We had Watergate. . .and now we have this, and probably much, much more.  Unlike movie characters, I don't see dead people, but I see people destined for prison.  If Congress does its job during this dangerous era.  Doubtful.

Whilst  the President embraces the formerly outlawed Muslim Brotherhood, inviting them into the White House and beyond government gates like long lost friends.   

They aren't on the way, they're here.  Like the Chinese, the extremist Islam element they represent plans decades, not days, ahead.  The world, little by little.  The Caliphate.  You will convert or you will die, that about sizes it up for negotiations. 

Meanwhile, the State Dept. and, you can bet, the Prez are all a twitter in defending or working around early absurd statements that a video clip caused the Libyan embassy horrors.  But what the hell, it's always been true -- dead men tell no tales.  Just ask our proud military folk in Afghanistan, as they continue getting mowed down by two-faced Middle Easterners while Ivy League theorists tucked safely away in Washington twist lies and excuses into authoritative sound bites.  The mainstream media have become little more than an assistive device for this Administration (for those of you enthralled with the world of sports, that is to say the MSM has morphed into something equivalent to a jockstrap supporting bad policy; for those engrossed with  Hollywood, we're talking about those who rewrite scripts and truth) and its contrivances. 

And what was promised to be the most open Administration in history has become Fort Knox while, conversely, more Americans are spied upon by their government than ever before.  Technology will save us, and  technology will destroy us.  Where are the media?

Remember when I spent every line, every entry of this blog on the UFO subject?  Those were the days, when at least one had a clue about what was real and what was not.  I never liked to embrace conspiracies, either, but nowadays it seems that what once were conspiracies are now rebooted as agendas.  Agendas are innocent. . .right?  Executive Orders are good things. . .right?  Rumored government plans to release infamous terrorist, "The Blind Sheik" from prison to make points with the criminal Muslim Brotherhood and make the USA look like a 90 lb. weakling are just rumors. . .right?   Who watches, and who watches the watchers?

ON A BRIGHTER DARKER NOTE. . . This is October and that means Halloween.  This month, like last year, I do have a few old movie photos to put up, but this year I'm adding a story, a bit of fiction I decided to try.  I am NOT Mr. Fiction, but you can be the judge when I post an original story entitled "More Than Anything," sometime this month.