Sunday, October 24, 2010

Why Is Glenn Beck Dressed Like a Nazi

I've started listening to "Shock Doctrine," by Naomi Klein. For those of you unfamiliar with this book on murderous and genocidal economics theory and practice, it is rather troubling. She talks about how the Milton Friendman economics gang known as the Chicago Boys have destroyed economies, created horrific suffering for the masses, increased debt and inflation within nations, etc. You know, making the rich richer and poor poorer. The key to creating such horrific conditions in the economy is using disaster to the wealthy folks' advantage. They have the capital to invest, and the poor are easily tossed aside. Take hurricane Katrina for instance.

I posted a review recently of John Perkins' book, "Confessions of an Economic Hitman." John Perkins had the job of going into a nation and forecasting an inflated view of their economic capabilities. That particular nation would then be encouraged to take out massive loans through the IMF, World Bank, and others, in order to create this vast economy promised by faulty forecasts. When the nation couldn't pay back the loans, the nation would be held hostage for natural resources, votes in the UN, and other such coerced activities, and the less rich and the poor were the ones to pay for this, of course, while the rich ran away with the money and the resources while paying those with the guns to control the masses.

I have quite the understanding of the Nazi's. I have read so many books about the dirty underhanded deals of WWII, not your usual stuff about the great glories of how wonderful America and the Allies were and how evil the Axis and the Japanese were. I read about how Henry Ford financed Hitler and his gang of thugs. I read about the Vatican involvement with the Nazi's. Race riots in the U.S. Race strikes in the U.S. The death camps we aren't supposed to know about. I recently re-listened to George Weller's book, "First Into Nagasaki." George was the first reporter to sneak in to Nagasaki about a month after the U.S. dropped the bomb. He managed to commandeer two Fords from the Japanese officer in charge. Two Fords. What were Fords doing in Japan at this time? Did Hank do his dirty business with them, as well as the Nazis?

In "Shock Doctrine," during the devastating Milton Friedman and the Chicago Boys overhaul of the Argentine economy, just prior to the fascists leaving office because of the destruction they caused, they gave escape to some five corporations from their bad business decisions so they would not only keep the profits they stole, but not have to pay for the economic destruction they helped cause. Chase Bank, Citi Bank, IBM, Ford, and Mercedes were all allowed exemption from the economic destruction they caused. Do you know what these five corporations have in common? They all did business with the Nazi's during WWII and made gazillions in profits while Americans, other allies, enemy soldiers, civilians, etc., were slaughtered by gazillions for their profits. Some things never change.

I also recently listened to the posthumous book by Sebastian Haffner, a well known German political analyst, called "Defying Hitler." He talks about his life from the age of 7 at the break out of WWI in Germany, the propaganda, the misinformation, the German mind. He talks about how pro-war he was because it was like a numbers game. He never saw any of it. He did hear some of the gun battles close to his home, but it was still just an unreal game. As he became an adult, he realized there was a lot of lying going on. But he just lived his life. He didn't pay attention. But in '33, things became serious and Adolf and his thugs took power. It still didn't matter all that much to him. He did start to feel rather troubled when it started directly effecting him. He started to understand when people close to him started being effected. It was troubling to watch and see the violence. It was troubling to be FORCED to pay hommage to a nation one, even though a citizen, when they were doing such terrible things. Then, to get his job in the government, he first had to go to indoctrination camp. Even though he hated the Nazi's and everything they stood for, he kinda got into it for that little bit of time. But the thing that kept even the German citizens who wanted nothing to do with the Nazi's in line was terror. If you didn't salute the flag, you would be beaten. There are many in this nation who would Love that type of atmosphere and would still call it freedom. I had a friend who told me that with such people you should just ignore them. If you want to stop a bully, you ignore them, he told me. Sebastian stated in his book, you should not ignore them. To ignore them gives them more time to coerce people and gain power. I would tell that friend that if someone was coming at me or my family with a hatchet, they simply weren't going to go away if I ignore them.

I had a friend that listened to Glenn Beck. He told me he didn't believe in the indoctrination as much as Glenn gave good information. This was about a year ago and I had no idea who Glenn Beck was, and now that I do, I'm fairly certain Glenn Beck is a piece of s**t. I recently heard on Democracy Now how some fella a year or so ago, motivated by the likes of Glenn Beck and Mike (Weiner) Savage was on his way to kill 11 people from some organization called Tide that Beck said was evil for some reason. He got side tracked with a gun battle with the cops and was arrested. Beck also states pretty much that George Soros owns the nation. There seems to be no backing with his information, but when attempting to convince an audience of your lies, your not about to tell them where to get the facts, like at "Media Matters," website. Media Matters exposes the lies of right wing television and radio talk show hosts. Whaddya know. Sometimes I wonder if folk like Glenn Beck are trying to get us in line to salute the flag under threat of being beaten and still calling this the nation of the frei.

All of this makes me wonder if a**holes like Glenn Beck are trying to vie for power like that of the Nazi's. I don't think the conditions are such because there is diversity within the social fabric of the U.S. A single culture could be easily manipulated into joyful mass slaughter for the coffers of wealth for the few, but it is rather difficult when you have a diversity of thinking, a diversity of culture and languages, a diversity of religions. Does Beck thrive on the fact that he motivated at least one man to want to kill for him. Killing is much easier when you don't do it yourself. Why is Glenn Beck wearing a fake Nazi uniform on the cover of his book, "Arguing with Himself?" I mean "Arguing with Idiots?" Why, when he is a proven liar, do people still listen to him, believe in him, thrive on his fascist vibe?

I don't know how it is connected, but yesterday, when heading from Eugene to Albany, I saw one of the longest processions ever with about 40 Harley riders and at least 100 cars. I was figuring I would learn on the news later. When I got to my last stop in Albany, and didn't see one member of the usual crew at the restaurant I delivered to. I didn't think much of it. I mentioned the long procession to the fella standing in for the regular manager. The assistant manger, I was told, had a son, a Marine, in Afghanistan. His son was killed recently, and that was the procession for his son. The service was in Eugene, and they were heading there from Albany. I told the stand in manager I believed it was all us old f**kers who should be out there fighting wars, not these young people. The young people should be home enjoying life. He said he thought all wars should be fought with swords so that way one could see their enemies and maybe folk wouldn't be so motivated to fight wars. The young mans name was Joseph Rodewald

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Miracle


Shusli and I just watched the video of the first miner in Chile getting pulled out of the mine that collapsed some 68 days ago in that country. It is a rare gem to hear of mining accidents that happen like that having anything close to a happy ending. Thank you all the folk that helped them.

Shusli and I are in the midst of watching "Fiddler On the Roof." We are to the part where the Russians are starting the progrom to terrorize the Jews of the town. Folks seem to have a "tradition" of having targeted groups of people to hate in order to keep their eyes from the worst criminals, such as governments. Much easier to, say, hate a black or brown person or a Jew than it is to go after the actual oppressors.

And still, after 68 days, a miracle is happening in Chile. "A Miracle." So rare of a happy gem it is to see that first man released from belly of a mine. A collapse that would usually mean death for the workers.

I listened to "Jewtopia" recently. Did you all know that Ulysses Grant expelled the Jews from Tennessee for dealing in Southern cotton, cotton needed by the North and sold to them by Jewish businessmen. I'm now listening to "Born to Kvetch."

Then again, today the U.S. and some other parts of the world celebrate one of the worlds most horrific genocidal maniacs, Christopher Columbus.

Still, "to life, to life, l'chaim" those fellas in that mine in Chile for 68 days are coming out. "A Miracle." "What we need is a miracle," said Mel Brooks.

"Men dancing with women?"

To Life! (L'Chaim!) :
To life! To life! L'chai-im!
L'chai-im, l'chai-im, to life!
If you've been lucky, then Monday was No worse than Sunday
was,
Drink l'chai-im, to life.

To life, l'chai-im!
L'chai-im, l'chai-im, to life!
One day it's honey and raisin cake,
Next day a stomach ache,
Drink L'chai-im, to life!

Our great men have written words of
Wisdom to be used
When hardship must be faced;
Life obliges us with hardship
So the words of wisdom
shouldn't go to waste.

To us and our good fortune
Be happy be healthy, long life!
And if our good fortune never comes
Here's to whatever comes,
Drink l'chaim, to life!

To life, to life, l'chai-im,!
L'chai-im, l'chai-im, to life!
Life has a way of confusing us
Blessing and bruising us,
Drink l'chaim, to life,

To life, l'chaim!
L'chaim, l'chaim, to life!
A gift we seldom are wise enough
Ever to prize enough,
Drink l'chaim, to life!

God would like us to be joyful
Even though our hearts lie panting on the floor;
How much more can we be joyful,
When there's really something
To be joyful for.

To life, to life, L'chai-im!
L'chai-im, l'chai-im, to life!
It gives you something to think about,
Something to drink about,
Drink l'chai-im, to life! l'chai-im !

the blessing and bruising us part comes first.

the honey and raisin cake is not in the song at all.

you forgot the part about there lives being more
pleasent

then there future ones.

This may be a version of "To Life", but it's not the
version from either the play or the movie. In "Fiddler,"
the song is about the wedding of Tevye's daughter.

To Life

Here's to our prosperity, our good health and happiness,
and most important ...
To life, to life, la kayim,
La kayim, la kayim, to life,
Here's to the father I tried to be,
Here's to my bride-to-be,
Drink la kayim, to life,
To life, la kayim,
La kayim, la kayim, to life,
Life has a way of confusing us,
Blessing and bruising us,
Drink la kayim, to life!
God would like us to be joyful, even when our hearts lie
panting on the floor.
How much more can we be joyful, when there's really
something to be joyful for?
To life, to life, la kayim,
To Tzeitel, my daughter--my wife,
It gives you something to think about,
Something to drink about,
Drink la kayim, to life!

(Le Morta!
Yes, Lazar Wolf?
Drinks for everyone!
What's the occasion?
I'm taking myself a bride!
Who is it?
Tevye's eldest, Tzeitel!)

To Lazar Wolf--
To Tevye!
To Tzeitel, your daughter--my wife!
May all your futures be pleasant ones,
Not like our present ones,
Drink la kayim, to life,
To life, la kayim,
La kayim, la kayim, to life,
It takes a wedding to make us say,
"Let's live another day,"
Drink la kayim, to life!
We'll raise a glass and sip a drop of schnapps in honor of
the great
good luck that favors you,
We know that when good fortune favors two such men, it
stands to reason,
we deserve it too!
To us and our good fortune!
Be happy, be healthy, long life!
And if our good fortune never comes,
Here's to whatever comes,
Drink la kayim, to life!

Heaven bless you both, to your health and may we live
together in peace!
May you both be favored with the future of your choice,
May you live to see a thousand reasons to rejoice!

We'll raise a glass and sip a drop of schnapps in honor of
the great
good luck that favors you,
We know that when good fortune favors two such men, it
stands to reason,
we deserve it too!
To us and our good fortune!
Be happy, be healthy, long life!
And if our good fortune never comes,
Here's to whatever comes,
Drink la kayim, to life!

Sunday, October 10, 2010

KILLER!

Don't you just love mass murderers? Mass murderers are great! They are the best!

Last night, Shusli and I watched the movie, "Lovely Bones," an excellent ghost story where a young woman who was murdered by a wonderful serial killer helps get him captured from the other side. An excellent film with an excellent killer.

Don't you just LOVE killers? Killers are great, don't you think?

Unfortunately, this year, the Nobel (alleged) Peace Prize went to a man I assume hasn't murdered anybody...WHAT THE F**K!? I mean, sh*t, last year, the committee had sense to award the prize to mass murderer Barrack Obama AFTER he started slaughtering more Afghani's and killing Pakistani's and Iraqi's as well. The committee got in right in '73 when they awarded the prize to genocidal maniac and mass murderer Henry Kissinger.

Don't you just Love your killers? Of course you do. This is America, and we even have holidays for mass murdering genocidal maniacs. America holds the names of genocidal maniacs highest amongst the alleged founding fathers.

In two days it will be Columbus Day. Columbus and the boys used to slaughter so ruthlessly and brutally that I'll spare you the details here. Read them in a book that is not by that twisted liar, Samuel Elliot Morrison.

So, here in lies the question...Why does America celebrate one of the most horrific genocidal maniacs with a holiday? Why not celebrate Hitler's birthday? Why did Henry Kissinger and Barrack Obama win the Nobel peace prize? Why does Christopher Columbus have a holiday?

Shusli put a post on her facebook of a video called "Reconsider Columbus Day." An excellent short video asking folks to rethink celebrating Columbus and requesting an Indigenous holiday.

But really folks, I really want to know. Why is there a holiday celebrating the genocidal maniac Christopher Columbus? You all do know about the many horrific things he did, right? Do you all look in depth into the real histories of your heroes? Why were Barrack and Henry even CONSIDERED for the Nobel (alleged) Peace Prize? If you want peace in the world, why do we celebrate and award mass murderers? I'm just asking.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

VET


When I was a kid, I used to think that the words "vet" and "veteran" were abbreviations for the profession of "veterinarian." I used to think there were a heck of a lot of animals doctors around and how come I didn't know any considering the vast amount of people taking up that particular profession. I don't know how old I was when I realized that a veteran was not an animal doctor but a fella who had been in the military and that the term "vet" could refer to an animal doctor or a person who had been in the military.

When I was 17 or 18, I seriously thought of joining the military for four days. On the morning of the fourth day of my consideration I thought, "why would I want to fight for the same nation that has tried to wipe my people off of the face of the earth and continues to do so, though with a different sort of violence."

Knowing that I'm not the only person in the world and that my conditions were not the only conditions in the world, I never faulted anyone else who had made the decision to join the military. I'm no leader. I'm no god. I have no right to judge. I knew that many Indians lived in poverty and many of those Indians who joined the military were looking for a way out of said poverty. I also knew that there were many reasons other than that for folk to join the military as well. There is no one reason as many would prefer to think.

I've known and worked with many Vietnam Veterans throughout my life.

One did a lot of the tunnel rat work. He talked of pouring gasoline down those tunnels and setting them on fire, going down there with a pistol to clear it out, etc. He talked of a sawed off shotgun type of weapon that could blast a forty foot hole in a fence (exaggeration, I don't know). He was an alcoholic.

Another vet was a Marine who talked of his best friend dying in his arms. How he killed a lot of Vietnamese. How he got shot in the leg at the Battle of Hue and told the doctors that if they cut his leg off he would kill every one of them. He, too, was an alcoholic, though sober most of the time I knew him.

Another was in Army Intelligence. He told me he killed over two hundred people that he knew of and that they came to him every night so he only got about three hours sleep each night.

One of my aunts was a nurse in Vietnam. The story goes that she flew in the planes that would take the wounded from Vietnam to Japan.

I have an uncle who is a Vietnam Vet who was in the Airforce and a member of a helicopter crew. They had a rotation in which one man of the crew was always left behind. One day when he was that man his crew all got shot down and killed. I remember missing him when he lived in Vancouver, Washington and was away from his family.

I lived with a Vietnam Vet whom I used to ask a lot of questions. He yelled at me one day to "stop asking me questions about that shit! There are things I would much rather forget." He was in the Navy and used to go up and down the rivers in PT boats. Since then, I'll let vets tell me their stories if they want. I don't ask.

I've known many vets who have not seen combat and still have a special brand of military dysfunction in civilian life.

It was a vet who introduced me to sweating, the Inipi ceremony.

I used to sweat a lot, but haven't in a long time now, years I think. The second time I sweated with this one tall Vietnam Vet he collapsed on my lap and cried for I don't know how long. I comforted him as best I could.

I met one Vietnam Vet friend who was a Marine when at a slide show offered by a mutual friend. He got up and talked without looking at the audience. He said he had a hard time "not wanting to solve all of his problems by killing people." I thought that I didn't want to get to know that guy, but when I did, I found him to be one of the kindest people I had ever met. I used to sweat with him a lot.

I knew another fella who was in the Navy in Vietnam. He told me he had written down all of the horrible things he did over there and showed it to his wife who came close to leaving him because of that. He, too, was one of the kindest people I ever met. What the heck?! He used to pour water at some of the vet sweats I attended.

I used to help at Vet sweats quite often, helping with the fire mostly. They would always invite me in, which always made me feel uncomfortable. I didn't feel uncomfortable because I wasn't a vet so much as I feared they could see something in me that I wasn't totally aware of...because...you see, I've had a lot of dreams of having been in war.

Once I woke up on a battle field where hundreds of wounded and dying lay all around me. I was one of the wounded. I was in such horrific pain. I managed to lift my head enough to see a large hole in my stomach. I tried to raise my arms to cover the wound with my hands, but the pain was so excruciating that I couldn't lift them. I could see hundreds of dead and dying all around me. I made myself wake up.

I have had a recurring dream where me and a friend are stepping up onto a small dirt hill of about three or four feet in height. We had just finished a battle and we had killed a lot of people and were just feeling the glory of such a horrific bloody victory. I never saw the killing directly, but I knew I had killed many that day.

Maybe, just maybe, there is something more to me that those fellas could see that I can't, and that makes me feel kind of uncomfortable.

Many years ago I interviewed Philip Red Eagle who authored a book of two short novellas called "Red Earth." Philip is a Vietnam Vet who was in the Navy. On the cover of his book was the painting called "Scream" by Rick Bartow, an artist and Vietnam Vet. The painting is troubling and amazing. Phillip signed his book for me and did so in a special manner using stamps with red ink. The book is an amazing story of time travel back and forth from the Vietnam War to the present (as it were at the time of its publication).

About six years ago, I worked as a driver for a thrift store. One of the fellas that I worked with lived with his best friend whose name I have since forgotten. He told me his friend was a Vet from the war with Afghanistan. He told me the story of how, while on patrol, his friend stepped on a land mine. It was one of those mines that explode after you raise your foot. All the rest of his platoon got a safe distance away, and he surrendered to the fact that he was gonna die. He lifted his foot to discover that it was a dud.

I gave that man that book, "Red Earth," and a few other things in one of my many life purges. I believed it would be good for him.

"What did you do to him?" my co-worker asked a few days later.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Last night, after reading that book you gave him, he unloaded the pistol he keeps by his bed and put it away. He always slept with a loaded gun close to him. This is the first time I had seen him do that since he got back from Afghanistan."

I have met folk like Ishmael Beah, who was a boy soldier in Sierre Leone. He wrote a book called "A Long Way Gone," about his experiences. He committed and witnessed many acts of brutality during that civil war. After I interviewed him, I gave him a hug, and realized he was a few inches shorter than me and rather slender. This human had killed a lot of his fellow humans and here he was, again, one of the kindest folk I have met.

Once I had an internet battle with some folk who said that if I had compassion for these vets, what about the vets that killed the Lakota at Wounded Knee. I told them they were racist as they could have asked the question in a different manner but instead chose to bring it up in terms of my race. Made me mad. I apologize to those folk now, as I could have handled the situation very differently and maintained a good peace between us...live and learn. One thing I do know, however, is that many "Indian Fighters" became friends with Indians afterward, some of them even preferring Indian company over white in later years. Which makes me think of a funny story.

I worked with a fella who was a Vet of Iwo Jima. Big Jim Easley, I think his name was. I didn't hear any of his stories, but knowing he was a vet of that battle motivated me to watch a documentary about a reunion of the folk that fought that horrific WWII battle. As one American Vet talked with a Japanese Vet through an interpreter, the American was telling him how he had a Jap bullet still lodged in his body. The Japanese Vet told him, "It's probably mine. Sorry."

If folk who were so intent on killing each other at one time could stand face to face and enjoy each others company, I think we all have the capability of doing so without ever having taken up arms in the first place.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

"...huge...tracts of land."

I listened to an interview with Marlo Thomas on NPR recently talking about her new book, "Growing Up With Laughter." Heck, I didn't even know Marlo was still alive, let alone having written SIX books. I guess she also conducts interviews with comedians. Isn't that funny, the things one grows up with can still have hidden surprises when one no longer pays attention. I remember the "That Girl" TV show. I remember her dad, Danny Thomas. I remember my dad enjoying the laughter from the show "That Girl," and from Marlo and her dad Danny.

Even though life wasn't exactly ideal growing up with my parents, my dad had a great sense of humor. He had all sorts of jokes he had collected on paper. He loved funny books. He laughed out loud while reading the comics in the news papers. He loved humor. He loved a good laugh.

When I first saw "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," I was about 12-years-old and I didn't think it was very funny. I walked out of the theater kind of dumbfounded and thinking the film made no sense. When I got older and understood the humor, loving humor as much as I do. I have watched the movie dozens of times and laugh harder each time. There is a scene from the movie which I'll use to preface the following narrative:

Price Herbert, played by Terry Jones, is having a conversation with his father, played by Michael Palin, about his forth coming nuptials. Alex ("Herbert")...Herbert doesn't want to get married. He wants to sing (que music). ("Stop that! Stop that! You're not going to do a song while I'm here!") Where was I...oh, yeah...Herbert doesn't want to get married, but Father does his best to convince him that he damned well better, even stating that the young woman has "huge...(shaking hands in front of his chest in the male sign language that a woman has rather large knockers) tracts of land."

My father used to tell me stories about how funny his brother Douglas was. Things like: stopping at a local gas station in Reedsport, Oregon, and asking the quickest way to New York, or when getting asked directions saying something like "you can't get there from here." My father, having joined the military, told me how, after three years away from home, he was amazed to come home and find that his younger brother, Douglas, had grown something like a foot taller.

Somewhere around this time, my father informed me, it was discovered that my uncle Doug (whom my middle name comes from) got leukemia. My father told me how my uncle Doug would be strong and healthy one day, then be so thin and weak he couldn't even lift himself out of bed.

My grandfather, it was said, had a rather large amount of timberland. How much, I don't know. I had rarely heard about this from anyone other than my dad. I wonder how strongly he was connected with it. Why, prior to my cousin Doug getting ill, he didn't sell the land and use up the money. Did he feel a connection with the land like Shusli does to hers?

The story goes that my grandfather sold all or most of his land to try to save my uncle Douglas. The story also goes that he hired one of the foremost doctors in the field of leukemia to try to save my uncle. I'm told my grandfather flew this doctor over from Germany, and even this doctor was unable to save my uncle, who finally succumbed to the disease.

My father would sit, usually in a drunken state, at our dining room table some 30 years later, and tell me this story and often cry at the loss.

A handful of years back, my sister was told by a woman she met at my mothers family picnic that my grandfather still had some land left. She gave my sister an address to write her at. My sister never did, so I wrote the woman and never heard a thing back.

If my grandfather hadn't sold off all of his land, it was only because my uncle Doug passed away before he could.

Some 10 years ago, Reverend Goat Carson wrote a song called "Redskins," on his CD called "Simmerin'." People were always asking him about the name Redskins, so he decided to write a song about it. The story is so terrible that he had to balance it with his mother's favorite song, "You are my Sunshine."

I guess I wrote this story in the same manner. My uncles passing so many years ago. My grandfather selling off his land. My father telling me the story in a state of drunkenness and crying. All mixed up with laughing and humor because the laughter and humor helped us survive. All of my family loved a good laugh.