For The Love Of The Game

In my early 20's I played semi-pro football in Canada. At least they told me it was semi-pro but even Will Farrell's character in the movie by the same name was paid more than we were. Needless to say it was one of the greatest times of my life. You probably think that you're going to hear that my team had a great season record, or that maybe I was similar to that Rudy Cat in the 'Rudy' movie, or that the story ends with a last minute touchdown win for the good guys. Sorry to disappoint. Our record was as dismal as it was abysmal. In fact, it was both. Truth be told one should not even go into our stats let alone our 0 and 12 record. I can honestly count the number of season first downs we got in my first year, on one hand and have two fingers left over.

Football is absolutely, with the exception of rugby, perhaps, the toughest team sport to be a loser in. Doubles badminton? Ha! You can't get to the shuttlecock quick enough so you go home. Soccer? Ha! Maybe you're pooped a little bit. But in football you take a beating, a worse beating than the other team and your coach can't stand you; you're pissed at certain teammates for not holding up their ends and as a single lad; no gridiron groupies for you! But, once again, all though they weren't glory days they definitely verge on 'the good old days'.

A rainy, muddy Sunday afternoon. My favorite conditions. We played a team from the east side of town, on their turf. They were known to be tough and dirty play was not beneath them. But most importantly they were the one team in the league that we had a shot of beating. We were down by a substantial amount at the half. But, if anything, we were a 2nd half team. We had a great defense...o.k. a really good defense. I'm proud to say I was a defense back. I played Corner and then Safety, the latter half of the season. (This came as result of being lead tackler for the team at the Corner position; the Corner covers the receivers who go out for passes). Free Safety ah, I loved it. I was told that I was to seek and destroy and that I could roam anywhere I wanted because although I wasn't pro football material, I did seem to know what was coming before it happened.

Their star running back came around the left side on a sweep. Our Corner got blown out by their Receiver...sissy. That left me and beyond that he was looking at a touchdown. Pardon me, another touchdown. It was my favorite angle. I would bait the runner. Let him think that he could get outside me and sprint down the sideline to victory. Then like a panther I'd accelerate and drive the both of us out of bounds. I particularly liked this when you popped him into his own bench because I'd make my body as big as possible and take as many 'bystanders' down with me. Occasionally you took a few cleats and swear words from the other team but it was always worth it.

He shot for the sideline. The trap would work. Our eyes locked. In that moment it's almost as if a telepathic conversation happens. He sported a nasty confident grin. A grin that told me that he knew what I was doing but he was going for it anyway. I got pissed. The audacity! Didn't he know that I was lead tackler on a shitty team? I started bootin' it. We were 15 feet apart, neither man giving an inch. I knew I was going full tilt and he must have been as well. He didn't even fake that he might cut back inside. We both knew where this was going. We're now 3 feet from each other and the sideline. For a moment I saw brief panic in his eyes. I recognized it because I had the same look. Except mine said, "Are you nuts? break off dummy or pull up!" At this point its a race to get lower than the other guy. In football either tackler or ball handler can do the damage. We both dropped our helmets. KABOOM! A perfect head-on collision. I blinked on impact and then quickly opened my eyes. I see his helmet fly off his head. It seemed to hover like a spinning saucer 3 feet above his head. We took out a few of his teammates. I remember seeing stars for the first time in my life. They looked cool. I could have stayed there awhile and watched the show. I wanted to because my head was killing me. My teammates come over and pulled me up fast. Too fast, I wanted to puke. I saw my combatant. His team was patting him on the back as he trotted back to the field. Clearly, he recovered better than I did. One of my buddies congratulates me with a slap to the helmet. My left knee buckled but I held. Ego forbid me from taking the injury time out that I wanted. We huddled up. That's when I saw the same birds that used to float around the heads of Yosemite Sam and Sylvester of the Bugs Bunny cartoon when their bells got rung! If it weren't for the pain I'd have enjoyed conversing with them for a spell, but I had a game to play. It wasn't until we approached the line of scrimmage that the birds took flight. I still wanted to puke, however.

In the end we lost that game. As we shook hands with our opponents at least 3 of their players complemented me on the hit. Every body present that day thought I got the better of that Cat seeing as his helmet flew, almost back to their water cooler as it turned out. I never copped to the severity of the hit for me...until this blog entry. Technically I should write a paragraph on the upside of playing the game. But, nah, just ask somebody who's played; they'll tell it like it is. This story's moral is: if a guy's eyes tell you that he's unafraid to bang heads with you, believe em'. And when the collision is all said and done never let them see ya sweat...and definitely don't let them see the birds you're conversing with.

Change For The Better

The new regime of me. Sounds a tad blow-hardy doesn't it. On my blog profile I mention that I enjoy taking shots at politicians. I am officially done with all of that as I am done with politicians. I realize I may lose two of my three blog readers but it's time for me to get back to me, and more importantly, you! Politics has pushed me to the brink of mild insanity, anger and at times cynical laughter sprinkled with a hint of the diabolic. I wandered not unlike a clueless infant unaware that the world politic nearly possessed me. I devoured political hardcovers the moment they hit the shelves the way a heroin addict takes to his fixes. I told myself that I stayed current so that I'd never be hoodwinked, only to rant through this blog the way a bulimic purges after a huge guilty meal. I'd shoot my mouth off at parties on my imaginary soap box...and really, does anybody truly want to party with that guy? I was 'that guy'. I'm that guy, no more.

I'm through swimming in the ocean of 'the more things change the more they stay the same'. I looked at the big picture and couldn't help but hear the song by the Who with the lyric, "...the thing about the new boss, he's the same as the old boss." I don't want to hear about 'evil doers','coalitions of the willing','change we can believe in' or 'yes we can.' I'm done!

Until President Obama states (and delivers) that all of the troops in Iraq are coming home as well as all of the troops in Afghanistan, I'm not listening. I'm not playing. And I ain't buying! This journey has taught me two things. Actually, two things I already knew and already felt. One: we do not need to be in Iraq or Afghanistan. Two: if America, regardless of who is President, stopped resource mining (pillaging) and pursuing world hegemony/empire expansion, the list of enemies/terrorists and whatever other title constitutes a threat to national security, would plummet, recede and subside. We all know this but most of us haven't got the stones to admit it. Myself included until now, save occasional lip service...and I guess, blog service.

It's a new day for this humble blogger. The new message which I'd drifted away from: Love. How simple is that? If you're eye rolling, heavy sighing or puking, well then so be it. But, you'll come around baby, I know you will. I'd rather inspire than rant. I'm going to volunteer. I'm good to my neighbor but I can be better. I might even hug a tree. Would it make me a sissy if I did? If you think so then say it to my face, and see what happens to ya. [Oh, shit, three sentences and I forgot I'm supposed to be spreadin' love. Baby steps, I suppose.] The new blogs will still have the humor that some of my blogs had but I'll blog about inspirational Cats (people). I'll be bringin' the good news. And it will all come from a place of love. Don't worry, it won't be the fluffy nauseating kind...not that there's anything wrong with that, it just ain't me. I'm still the rough and tumble rocker who'll be the first through the thick door, shoulder rolling, and coming up fast for whatever ya got. I'll just have love in my heart as I put my 200 pounds of fast movin' business to the soon to be splintered door. Love, people! Spread it early and often...but do so carefully!

*N.B. This blogger is not on ecstasy or any other love enhancing drug. His last ride/trip may or may not have been pot brownies in 2000. Boy was that hilarious, and a topic for another blog...perhaps.

Pirates...Made or Born?

Other than Halloween and perhaps the Disney movie franchise with Johnny Depp, Pirates of the Caribbean, most of us rarely hear much about modern day pirates. It wasn't until last April when Somali pirates off the coast of Somalia took a vessel and kidnapped sea Captain Richard Phillips. The captain was held on a small lifeboat by four hostage takers. A five day stand off ended with President Obama giving the navy seals the green light to "take 'em out" if I may paraphrase. The seal snipers waited until the cover of night, took aim at the kidnappers heads and shoulders and dropped three of the four bad guys. One of the pirates surrendered. He was 16 years old.

A familiar theme popped into my pea brain when I heard tell of the media's tale and that was; there has got to be more 'story', to this news story. What followed from the media was the usual: Separate the good guy from the evil guy, make the delineation lighthouse clear and write numerous stories that support the 'good and evil' findings. The latest attack came outside of Mogadishu. Pirates attacked a Panamanian flagged ship that left Dubai on October 24th. The kidnappers want $3 million.

My question is: Who are the pirates and why piracy in the year 2009? Somalia had a large fishing industry. Word spread of the abundant food source and rival/illegal trawlers and fishermen came to the area and took what they wanted. Somalia, having a powerless government was, you guessed it, powerless to do anything about it. To add insult to thievery, the trawlers and vessels dumped tons of waste into the waters which helped kill the remaining marine life that the sea poachers hadn't plundered. Then there are the big guns. The oil tankers who pass through the region. They not only dump their garbage but leaky tankers do what leaky tankers do. Then there is Somalia itself. In two words; poverty stricken. Lastly, it has even been reported that thanks to corporatism, nuclear waste has also been dumped into Somalia's waters. So who are the pirates? Well, the western media might go as far as saying that the brigands are disgruntled fisherman. However,it would be more accurate if they declared that these men began as fishermen and became HUNGRY AND DESPERATE!

The Somali fisherman cannot go to any police and report that his waters have been poisoned and pillaged. Nor can he go to his government and ask for a welfare check or food stamps. He is poor and on the brink of starvation. Before you jump up and call me a bleeding heart liberal, and label me as some kind of pirate/ terrorist sympathizer, I'm just searching for an answer...and now I feel that I have a better understanding of the Somali pirate. I don't condone the violence. But, what I do condone is a government that works for the people, which sadly, Somalia's government does not. I also condone a West that backs up the U.N. as well as aid organizations so that people in Somalia or any country are not pushed to starvation and lawlessness. But the U.N. is weakly backed and has their hands tied fighting an Islamic insurgency. And the latest contribution from the outside world is an international armada of war ships patrolling the area.

Please welcome the international armada players: The U.S., the E.U., Nato, Japan, South Korea and China topped off with U.S. drones launched from Seychelles. I'm not knocking a joint police force but once again in an effort to help, we are trying to treat the effect, not the cause. The shit, so to speak, is already out of the horse by the time you take out pirates in the open seas. If you deal with the poverty problem, (cause) and the pillaging problem (more cause) the shit stays in the horse and the fisherman never becomes a pirate (effect). Then we can all go back to dressing as pirates on Halloween and hoping and praying that Hollywood doesn't release Pirates of the Caribbean IV!

A Tennis Dude, A Bump And A Cat Named Slim

Tennis pro Andre Agassi admits in a tell-all biography that he used a scary amphetamine known as crystal meth. A star athlete using drugs! What in the Sam Hill? He claims to have got the boost from his assistant drug-user named Slim. Agassi, baby, how many times do I have to tell you, never trust a guy named Slim. Apparently Agassi claims his career was in the shitter due to a wrist injury back in 1997. Slim laid out the powder and took a bump. He cut up another blast and Andre leaned forward and went on a trip. We've all heard the story before. In his book he claims he took the hit and immediately regretted it. This regret however, was immediately replaced by an awe inspiring high of a lifetime. Ah, crystal meth you naughty little boy.

Had I been in the room at the time I'd have told Andre," Don't do it man. The only Slim I'd ever have trusted was the one Lauren Bacall played in 'To Have or Have Not' with Humphrey Bogart. Now that was a dame. A dame you could trust." But I wasn't there. And the rest is in his bio and for the history books.

After the Hot Shot tennis player took the shot he got a call from the tennis federation informing him that he failed a drug test. From bad comes badder. Andre had already crossed one line and he was about to cross another. He wrote a heart felt letter to the federation in which he claimed that he drank a soda that was spiked with the meth. (Happens to me all the time). He dropped a dime on Slim in the process as he pointed out that the soda was Slim's. Sorry Slim, but you are a prick anyway. I don't blame Slim, for there are Slims around every corner. Andre was a big boy who made a dumb choice, end of story. But, in the end the crack team of federation members bought Agassi's story and dropped the incident. It sure sounds like there was a pay off on top of it all but if there was; Andre, Slim and the federation ain't talkin'.

As you all know Agassi made a comeback and eventually retired in 2006. He hooked up with tennis star Stephi Graff and today they have two kids. Cue the happy ending music. All that remains now is whether or not Agassi's legacy will remain intact- at least that's what the punditry is punditizin' about. Do any of us care? I think not. But the punditry must do what it does or face extinction.

But the question is why now? Why cop to the drug use now? Did Stephi put him up to it? Does Andre's guilty conscience rob him of sleep? Allow me to speculate on the hypothesis based on my own factual musings. A tennis pro gets high with his assistant. If the pro takes to the meth then sooner or later he's going to get bored with staring across the glass table at Slim's mug day after meth soaked day. So let's say Andre says, 'say Slim, why not get some broads over here and maybe a couple of your cool buddies'. Slim, being a tweaker knows plenty o' meth heads. Although high, the tweakers know who Andre is. Flash forward to Andre's retirement. What if somebody talks? What if one of the meth heads comes down long enough to write their own tell all? (in crayon). Suppose they try and shake Agassi down for some grease like David Letterman's blackmailer? Get the picture? It's totally plausible that Andre Agassi thought it best to jump out in front of all of the members of the crystal-meth mirrored round table.

I think my theory brings considerable weight to the story and fills in the missing pieces. Again, it's like I always say, 'know who you're getting high with.' The only problem is you're high and it is therefore tough to remember who you got high with...or so I've read. I think Andre has come out of this thing smelling like a rose, or at least a two day old chrysanthemum. The moral and morale for that matter, of the story is; if you're down on your luck don't bump the hard meth, stick to beers, you'll be glad you did.

Care We Not For Our Daughters?

Sick of the Roman Polanski affair yet? Me too, but probably not for the same reason as you. By now you've all heard that in the 1970's Polanski loaded up a 13 year girl with quaaludes and booze and then raped her. He got caught and charged. He allegedly cut a deal with the judge whereby pleading guilty to a lesser charge of sex with a minor he'd serve 42 days under psych assessment and be done with it. At some point he caught wind that the judge was going to rescind the deal, so Polanski fled. That's the rough, long and short of it.

Now here's what sticks in my craw. A group of pathetic friends and colleagues have come to his defense. And their defenses are abysmal. One of the first people I saw to charge in on her steed actress Debra Winger. Years ago Rosanna Arquette made a little film begging Winger to return to the silver screen. The film was about sexism and ageism in Hollywood, which is why Debra left the screen for a time. Let me get this straight. Sexism is bad but child rape is o.k. if done by a good director. And isn't the rape of a child at least 20 times worse than giving a movie role to a man instead of a woman simply because she's a woman? Since then Winger has done precious little...of note anyway. To remain more or less silent all of these years only to choose this incident to make a public statement for a once celebrated movie director and guilty child rapist is disgusting. It reminds me of why I generally loathe celebrities. The basis of her defense was little different from the usual celebrity line, "Oh but you must look at the contribution..." Yo, Deb, how about you stay retired and stay away from the soap box, and let people with actual causes for, and about people, who actually contribute to society do the talking huh? You are an idiot! And this coming from a WOMAN! Enough about Winger.

Another tasty argument put forth by the morons of society who would defend Roman 'the prick' Polanski is this: The victim, Samantha Geimer, has forgiven Polanski and has even stated that she doesn't want him arrested. Since when in our society do we have the victim set the punishment? That ain't how society works baby. We have laws. We have courts. And even though, many innocent are wrongly convicted and many guilty go free. It's the best we've got at the moment. And when these laws are executed correctly they send a message to other would-be child rapists that if you do it; you'll get caught and punished. Not; If you do it and the girl says she's cool then by all means have a cocktail on us. These laws also let other victims know that the majority of society are on their side and that they didn't deserve what happened to them. I fault Samantha Geimer in no way. She has forgiven Roman so that SHE could move forward and have a life. She picked up the fragments of her life and managed to maintain a degree of dignity, so that Polanski could not take everything from her. Had she carried anger, or guilt or severe depression with her she'd carry it every day that the cowardly bastard cowered out his last 30 years on the lamb. And what kind of life would that be?

Yet another gem put forth by the aforementioned dimwits who would defend the overrated director/ child rapist is this: Roman is a holocaust survivor and therefor distrusts authority and simply got scared of the MAN, and was forced to run. Oh, this one is rich! Let us go back to a few years before Roman's party night to the 1960's. Anybody remember a time when Blacks in America were beaten, hosed, hanged, attacked by police dogs, and were locked up for skin color? To follow the logic of the above defense of Polanski don't all Blacks who were around at that time deserve to 'distrust authority' and therefor be allowed to flee from any and all charges? Jails all over the world are full of prisoners who don't trust authority, it doesn't mean that they get out of jail free. The accused must face the music. Something Polanski was and is too cowardly to do.

Polanski defenders have a whole host of other defenses none of which add up to a wooden nickle. The point is this ladies and gentlemen: There is no defense for Polanski. A 13 year old girl was drugged and fed alcohol by a grown man. A man who had many admirers and could have enjoyed sex with many women his age. But he chose a child. And he was not looking for sex. He was looking for RAPE and SODOMY! Imagine a little girl out of her mind but conscious enough to know that what is being done to her is wrong. She had to feel his weight on her-smell his breath. She is over powered by him. She was forced to feel his touch-endure his sweat. She's powerless. She must take it, for she has no other choice. Only Roman had a choice. The man with all of the power. And after raping and sodomizing her he runs away to freedom in another country. But it is o.k. with Harvey Weinstein, a powerful producer and it is o.k. with Woody Allen because he's a director and a pedophile as well, who married what was once his adopted child. And it is o.k. with Debra Winger because even though she's a woman she's a washed up actor. But oooh wasn't she great in Officer and a Gentleman!

Everybody has a mother. Some of you reading this blog are women, some of you have sisters and some have daughters. Would you volunteer your mother/sister/self/daughter for THAT evening with Polanski because he directed Chinatown? If your answer is yes, then you have serious problems and I recommend help. Roman Polanski is a man who stands behind a camera and yells, "Action!" in a world of make believe. He is nothing more and he is so much less!!!

Henry Louis Gates...still Black, still America

Mr. Gates, a Harvard man 58 years old with 50 honorary degrees arrested in his own home for? Well, it's tough to say really. Imagine you come home to find your front door jammed. You and your driver attempt to enter to no avail. Next, you go around to your back door and use your key to enter your home. The police arrive on a tip that your house is being burgled. You merely explain that this is your home and that all is well here officer. The cop doesn't buy it and wants to haul you in. What do you do? You say 'hell no'. You show your I.D. You remind the officer that this is not Nazi Germany and they are not the Gestopo. And remember you are 58 years old with graying hair. Not fair is it? This is not your america, you have rights. Add this; you are a distinguished Harvard proffesor. This is madness. Alright, now add that you are black.

This changes everything. It shouldn't but it does. The president is black, so what! Police racial profile, always have and we're dealing with it. The sad part is that the cop who dealt with Dr. Gates did his job until a certain point. Once I.D. was presented and home ownership was established the cop became stupid. Stupid and then let his inner racism show.

The Breakdown

Black man seen breaking into home. Profile: black. Once on the scene said black man is older. Black man is well dressed. Black man is well spoken although upset, understandably. Why didn't the cop find something wrong with the profile? Is he not well trained? Is he racist? Does he lacked the ability to think outside the box? (although this incident is well within the box). Perhaps a combination of all three.

The Media

Henry Louis Gates was ultimately charge with disorderly conduct. Every one us would have reacted the same way when an officer is in your home ordering you to leave your home when no REAL charges are brought and your I.D. (both driver's license and Harvard faculty I.D.) is not to be believed. Many newspapers said that Gates became angry, agitated, beligerent and so on. And then they let these phrases hang so that we might feel that in some way Gates had it coming. Or that we could understand the cop's perspective. This thing has racism all over it and shame on the media. The cop is in possession of a small brain and large ego. I don't fault people for lack of education but when they carry a gun and a badge and make game time decisions as fucking stupid and racist as the choices this officer made I do fault the man, and the system and the media.

I am so glad the incident did not happen to me because once I have identifiend myself in my own home and proven ownership of my home which I pay a mortgage on and you don't believe me, then I begin to question the legitimacy of your badge and your identification. And at this point I would have defended myself and my home by any means necessary! Incidentally, Gates asked the cop for his I.D. and it was not given.

The Wrap Up

Many american are tired of hearing the gripes of black people. They don't want to hear about Katrina anymore. They don't like affirmative action and they have had it up to here with talk of racial profiling. Just remember that if a man as decorated, celebrated and accomplished as Dr. Henry Louis Gates can be dragged from his own home, try and comprehend what happens on a daily basis to the average black man and woman in this country.

Celebrities N' Me

The story that follows is true. It was 1994. Five or Six other musicians, dudes, crammed into my bachelor suite for beers on a Friday night. We were broke music school students with nary an interested chick in any one of us. To summarize; we were losers. It was 1:45 in the morning and we had six beers remaining in the ice box. Two blocks away 7-11 sold beer until 2 am. I was going on a beer run. The knucklheads tried to convince me that each would only have one more beer each. Morons! As if anybody can truly stick to such a ridiculous proclamation during the heat of rockin'. I was going with or without em'. They all accompanied.

In the 7-11 parking lot I spied a girl who looked incredibly familiar. She glared at me as if I was staring. Fair enough, I thought, for I was staring. But when she cast her scornful look it was then that I knew her to be Drew Barrymore. I was and still am of fan of Drew. A young dude was in the car with her, and their conversation looked intense. Being three sheets to the wind, half cut and semi pie eyed I approached the car gracelessly and began calling...o.k. shouting, "Drew, baby, Drew, o.k. here's the deal, I'm gonna buy some beers and we're all going back to my place. You're in, ya gotta be. Come on Drew its you and me baby!"

She told me to go away but she laughed when she did it. Not a good move to a hammered fan such as yours truly. That laugh was a green light for this A-hole. I upped the anti and threw more pathetic pleading dialog. In a panic I noted the time and ran inside to purchase my 18 pack of beer. The other guys were on their own as far as hooch. I handed my stash to my buddy Brian and went back to Drew's ride.

She and the lad were back at the heavy dialog, which clearly needed interruption. I informed Drew that I had the beer, now all I needed was her. She wasn't bitin'-duh! By this time the dude in the passenger seat was giving me his best tough guy stare, so naturally I reached up to the roof of the car and began shaking it back and forth and shouting, "Come on Drew, its you and me doll!" Drew began frantically trying to put her key in the ignition while yelling ,"Stop!" But, and this is huge, she could not stop laughing. In fact, she was almost in tears as she kept missing the ignition. Meanwhile the cat kept eye balling me while attempting not to shake. I finally stopped and Drew fired up the car. She was still laughing as she said, "My god you are crazy! Bye!"

By this time a crowd had gathered and were laughing too. The security guards knew me from, ahem, most weekend nights and did nothing but call me loco! One month later Drew married some guy. The marriage lasted no more than a month. The guy in the car that night was not the husband. What I think we witnessed was Drew dumping the guy for the new husband.

Two months later I'm having coffee on Melsose avenue, sitting outside. Up walks Drew Barrymore and starts talking to a girl at the table beside me. I kid you not. She looks over at me three times before scrunching up her brow and says, "hi." to me.
I say, "Hiya Drew." She looks at me as if she's trying to place my face. I offer nothing as I am now sober in broad daylight. She smiled again and went back to her conversation.

I enjoyed my time with Drew as I'm sure she enjoyed her time with me. Or not. And I may not have rocked her world but I definitely rocked her car.

Torture Is In...Was It Ever Out?

Where are we at America? Do we or do we not torture? While on the campaign trail Barak spoke out not only against going into Iraq but he fired at the Bush administration's use of torture, specifically water boarding. Once in the big chair he closed Guantanamo Bay. However, he did not take rendition off the table. This is the practice of scooping up suspected terrorists, and whisking them away to a more torture tolerant land for "interrogation." This is odd because he spoke loud and clear about Habeus Corpus.

When he first walked into the Oval office he declared that he would not go after Bush, Cheney and his band of torture brigands. But then a few days later he released/declassified Bush's torture memos for all to see. Is Obama playing both sides? Nah, I think he's being slick. He's saying here's what went down America, now it's up to you or the Attorney General, or a partisan committee or congress or Joe the idiot plumber to pick this fight...and then I'll back you up. And yesterday at his 100 day speech he definitively called water boarding; torture. Slick and Shrewd.

I'm not with the President on rendition, nor am I into his declaration that the prison (name escapes me) in Afghanistan is outside of the rules of the Geneva convention. Deja Vu all over again. Didn't Bush declare that about Abu Grahib? (And everywhere else for that matter) So that's two areas where Obama and I part. Oh yeah, and you right wing wackos that believe we need to torture because the enemy televises be-headings and so on, Back up. If we sink to their level than we're no different from them. And at that point it is different to claim supremacy. Remember, that two wrongs don't make a right.

But let's be real. The CIA has been torturing since their inception. We've always denied it but kept on keepin' on. What I don't understand is that if we can put men on the moon, can watch movies through our telephones and can build weapons that can blow up a mosquito without destroying its brain, ( I made that up) then how come the smartest guys in the room can't come up with iron clad interrogation techniques that even Greenpeace could get behind? Could it be that the interrogators are of limited intellect? Or is this merely punishment and information be dammed? Me thinks both. When Japanese prisoners were captured back in the day one interrogator did some research, what a concept, and found that the prisoners Achilles heal was home sickness. So he, talked of family, the homeland, and threatened that they'd be forever be cut off from their loved ones etc. Lo and behold the prisoners sang like canaries. Know your enemies dummies.

It's time to start using your heads 'smart guys' and stop using thugs to do your bidding because they cannot handle the blood lust that creeps into their souls and into the end of the lash. Research the enemy, learn the language, study the Koran, hell, just get them drunk for shit-sake, you'd be surprised how honest a little tequila makes some fellas.

Here is what must be done. The top guys of the Bush administration, Cheney, Rummy, judges, lawyers etc. have got to fall. All of them. Then we need to get back to the rules of Geneva, the Constitution, Habeus Corpus and all of the other neat propaganda we claim to own. Or, we need to simply announce to the world that we as Americans torture if and when we see fit...End of story. But this dancing on the fence bullshit holy-er than thou double talk has got to end.

Ashley Madison and the Accusatory Pebble

Ho there folks. I've been layin' low for awhile but I'm back in da saddle. Have you heard of this Ashley Madison sh**? No? It is a service that advertises secret relationships outside of the one you have supposedly committed to. I kid you not. They pepper the airwaves with sexy catch phrases like: are you looking for more in your relationship and not getting it? Do you want to stay in your marriage but want a little fun outside of it? Shame? ah...they have none. You don't hear comedians sending this stuff up. The useless local news, famous for relaying non-news hasn't touched Ashley Madison and the often too-late-to-the party sitcoms haven't over played the potential zingers.
Anyone remember the days of shame? The shame days had a good run I suppose but they've danced into back pages of history. It makes one wonder how gay people feel about all of this. The divorce rate is through the roof. And now we heteros that claim marriage is sacred and for us only (man and woman); are supporting a match.com for cheaters. But hold on! Don't move. We can't possibly let the gays in on this sacred rite of ours, they're not worthy of marriage, they say.
Can't anyone see what's going on here? We are neck deep in a self indulgent entitlement society. 'I'm bored and I want to bang someone other than my spouse...and I deserve it'. Bullshit! Step up and honor your commitment, or present the idea of an open marriage or lastly, have the stones to walk away and be with that other somebody. You cheaters are pathetic beings without character. And all the while you'd play the sanctity card?
The sanctity of marriage card is played out people. And wrapping oneself in the pages of the bible ain't holding up either, because 99% of those who try and play the God card are sinning so heavy in other areas that they not only have no right to cast the first stone, they shouldn't even be allowed to pick up an accusatory pebble. Perhaps my fellow heteros don't want gays to marry because they'd kick our ass in the lesser divorce rate statistic as well as the decent conduct category. And FYI; any idiot who chooses to cheat through an agency is an idiot...or did I say that already.