Pinko Peacenik Pension

My older brother likes to tell a story about my protesting against the Viet-Nam War at holiday dinners. His wife is a big Bush supporter. America can do no wrong for the both of them. Several Thanksgivings ago he finished cutting the turkey with his electric knife and said, "One afternoon in my sophomore year at BC, I was entering the commons and a group of anti-war demonstrators were lying on the ground pretending to be dead Vietnamese. I looked down and there’s my long-haired hippie brother. I said ‘hi’ and I stepped over him.” "It was 1970." I had not stopped my opposition to America's wars. "And the war kept going until 1975." He believed in peace at any price. "And I cheered Ho Chi Minh the day Sai-gon fell." I lifted my raised fist. My sister intervened before the confrontation devolved into a food fight. He later apologized for winding me up and I accepted his sorry matched by one of my own. We were best friends, but I’ve been psychologically scarred each time my older brother tells this tale. Partially since I can’t recall the incident and somewhat hurt that he would not join me. My pain is nothing in comparison to the suffering of Agent Orange victims denied health care by the Pentagon or the parents of Vietnamese infants deformed by the Dow Chemical product. but the pain exists, especially as my efforts were not rewarded with true peace. Instead Le Doc Tho and Henry Kissinger negotiated a faux peace and the war continued to its inevitable end ie the fall of the corrupt Saigon government. Undeterred by my defeat I have protested against every US incursion and war since my conversion to anti-violence in 1968. This pacific attitude was strictly relegated against the military-industrial complex, for I’ve always liked a good fight. even into my 50s. Still my stance against the wars of this country has led to my campaign aimed at establishing a pension for long-time anti-war activist. My letters to the White House were ignored during the Bush years. Father and son. Clinton’s staff never returned an answer too. My petition was as popular with the Obama administration as a parole request from Leonard Peltier, the AIM activist sentenced to life for the cold-blooded murder of 2 FBI agents. I’m not asking for much. Just enough to allow my living in Thailand. A mere $2000/month pension. Peace Now. Saying it a million times has to be worth something.

The Kiss of Winston Churchill

There are two things that are more difficult than making an after-dinner speech: climbing a wall which is leaning toward you and kissing a girl who is leaning away from you. Winston Churchill

I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter

Butter was supplanted by margarine in the 1960s. Ads from the corn council extolled its taste and the supermarkets priced the corn-based spread cheaper than butter. I refused to eat the shit. My mother and father wouldn’t buy butter, so I used the money from my paper route to buy butter. I wouldn’t give any to my sisters or brothers unless they joined the boycott against margarine. My father joined the rebellion after I had him taste mashed potatoes with butter. “It tastes better.” "Because it's real." Wisconsin was the only state in the Union to back my fight and margarine was declared illegal by its legislature. Marlon Brando furthered the cause by spreading butter on his female co-star’s buttocks for the infamous anal entry scene in LAST TANGO IN PARIS. All-purpose butter was spread better than margarine. My brother-in-law, America's leading leisurologist, has long been in accord with my thinking of this subject and sent this email several years ago; Margarine was originally manufactured to fatten turkeys. When it killed the turkeys, the people who had put all the money into the research wanted a payback so they put their heads together to figure out what to do with this product to get their money back. It was a white substance with no food appeal so they added the yellow coloring and sold it to people to use in place of butter. Both have the same amount of calories. Butter is slightly higher in saturated fats at 8 grams; compared to 5 grams for margarine. Eating margarine can increase heart disease in women by 53% over eating the same amount of butter, according to a recent Harvard Medical Study. Eating butter increases the absorption of many other nutrients in other foods. Butter has many nutritional benefits where margarine has a few and only because they are added! Butter tastes much better than margarine and it can enhance the flavours of other foods. Butter has been around for centuries where margarine has been around for less than 100 years . Margarine on the other hand is very High in Trans fatty acids and triples risk of coronary heart disease, increases total cholesterol and LDL (this is the bad cholesterol) and lowers HDL cholesterol, (the good cholesterol), increases the risk of cancers up to five times, lowers quality of breast milk, decreases immune response, decreases insulin response, and here’s the most disturbing fact. Margarine is but ONE MOLECULE away from being PLASTIC and shares 27 ingredients with PAINT The last test. Purchase a tub of margarine and leave it open in your garage or shaded area. Within a couple of days you will notice a couple of things: * no flies, not even those pesky fruit flies will go near it. * It does not rot or smell differently because it has no nutritional value; nothing will grow on it. Even those teeny weeny microorganisms will not a find a home to grow. Why? Because it is nearly plastic. Would you melt your Tupperware and spread that on your toast? And we are what we eat. Margarine sucks.

Jesus In A Dog's Butt

Is this the Second Coming?

The Downside of Heaven

A holy man from Bali died from old age. He arrived at the Pearly Gates to be greeted by St. Peter.

“Welcome to Heaven.” St. Peter led the Balinese holy man inside the holy rest home of eternity.

“I thought heaven was only for Christians.”

“No, no, heaven is for everyone. Over there are the Balinese. To the right the French. Back there the Muslims. Up front the Christians. Over there the Irish.” St. Peter pointed out every segment of heaven, then as they walked through a forest of euphoria, St. Peter whispered. “And over there are the Fundamentalists.”

“Why are you whispering?”<

“Because they think they’re the only ones up here.”

Read Stanley Elkins THE LIVING END.

In that novel the protagonist is sentenced to Hell for thinking Heaven looks like a Hollywood set from the 1930s.

Now that's cold, even for god.

Crack-Smoking Anti-Christ

The ex-model from Paris has named Barack Obama as the Anti-Christ on a number of occasions, mostly every day and hourly if she is in the mood. Her prediction of the apocalypse is based on the teachings of a fundamentalist preacher from the Bible Belt. This snake-biting man of God found proof of the President being the Son of Satan in the Book of Revelations and the Prophecies of Nostradamus, neither of which ever predicted that the Red Sox would shred the Curse of Babe Ruth to win the World Series in 2004, but Christians are blinded by the word of God and lesser prophets when it comes time to serve their holy desire for the Second Coming of the Messiah and yesterday the ex-model from Paris posted two accusation of satanic certitude about the POTUS or Barack the Anti-Christ. The first denunciation was about his being raised by an Indonesian transvestite or poncek. "In 1967, 6-year-old Barry Obama left Hawaii to live in Indonesia when his mother, Stanley Ann Dunham, married an Indonesian man named Lolo Soetoro. Young Obama lived in Jakarta for 4 years, leaving Indonesia at age 10 when his mother sent him back to Honolulu to live with her parents. From that time on, Obama would never live with his mother again. Norimitsu Onishi of the New York Times writes on November 8, 2010, that the Soetoro family lived in a one-story house in Jakarta’s Matraman-Dalam district. A couple named Satjakoesoemah were their neighbors. Obama’s mother used to teach English to the neighborhood women in the Satjakoesoemah living room. The residents of the neighborhood regarded her as a “free spirit” (translation: “slut”) and referred to Barry as the “boy who runs like a duck” because he was chubby and ”rowdy”. Obama’s family rented the guest house inside a compound belonging to a prominent physician. There, according to the neighborhood’s longtime residents, Barry was looked after by a nanny who was an openly gay man. The nanny openly carried on an affair with a local butcher and later joined a group of transvestites called Fantastic Dolls, who entertained people by dancing and playing volleyball." I responded to the ex-model from Paris with the following; Me - So we have a gay muslim president who was raised by a transvestite and smokes crack? And his name has too many vowels. Oh antichrist where are thou? Me - Are there straight transvestites? A friend of the Ex-model from Paris - No, there doesn't seem to be ANYTHING in his past that is good. And here we thought we had elected a nice family man devoted to his wife and daughters? Whoosh! How mistaken can a person be? Me - Very mistaken when all you believe is the worst. Ex-Model from Paris - And the anti christ is coming to put his mark on your right hand ore maybe your forehead im not sure if you get to choose............ Me - oh I get to chose. jesus was about 4'10". about the size of super mario. I can take him with all his angels. Off to sleep and dream of crack-smoking with transvestite presidents Ex-Model from Paris - I immerse myself in the Blood of Jesus Christ: I saturate my spirit: conscience, intuition and worship. I saturate my soul: conscious, sub-conscious, and unconscious: mind, will, emotions, and intellect. I saturate my five senses: sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch. I saturate my physical body: brain, physical appetites, and sexual character. I cover my doorpost and possessions with the Blood of Jesus Christ (Exod.12:13) I overcome the devil through the Blood of Jesus Christ (Rev. 12:11) Me - Yuck. I like my dreams better. Those bible-thumpers or Happy-Clappy people are so unhumorous. I wonder if they sit up at night imagining the tortures of hell. A tough job, but better them than me. There is no god but no god.

Running In Place

Mayor Bloomberg has not announced his candidacy for president, but his position as the in the top twenty wealthiest men in America has given him an outside shot as a third party option financed by his own money. In order to gain recognition in the rest of the country the illegally-eleected mayor has waged a campaign against the Occupy Wall Street protestors in order to validate his law and order stance for the right. His position on Israel gives him the Jewish vote as well as the fact that a moehl cut his foreskin in accordance with rabbinical law. Never one to waste an opportunity to further his aspirations, three-time winner of the mayor's office announced that 'NYPD authorities have arrested an alleged al-Qaeda sympathizer in a suspected plot to build a pipe bomb to kill government workers and returning US soldiers.' The suspect had been surveilled by the anti-terror squad of the NYPD, who used a snitch to pay the suspect to pursue his terrorist plans. The SWAT squad raided the apartment of the al-Quada sympathizer, who was in the process of fabricating a match bomb. The police commissioner assured the media that they police had no evidence that the suspect was working with anyone other than their informant. "He appears to be a total lone wolf and he was not part of a larger conspiracy emanating from abroad." Mayor Bloomberg announced from the dais of the press conference. He was wearing an orange cardigan. It did not look very presidential and to my mind's eye the only conspiracy was that of the NYPD sting operation pushing forward a sting operation aimed at netting a secret al-Quada cell that didn't exist except in the heads of the police. Another job well done, Mayor Bloomberg. Terrorizing the people to get votes. It's cheap at half the cost and Mike Bloomberg has the money. It was once yours.