War criminal? . . .

. . . how many OTHERS are there out there Mr. Rumsfeld???

from msnbc.com staff and news service reports
updated 8/31/2011 5:11:31 AM ET 2011-08-31T09:11:31

"Dick Cheney was "president for all practical purposes" during George W. Bush's first term in office and "fears being tried as a war criminal," according to Colin Powell's chief of staff during his time as secretary of state.

Col. Lawrence Wilkerson, who has known Cheney for decades, told ABC News that Cheney was a "very vindictive person." "I simply don't recognize Mr. Cheney anymore," he added.

In his memoir, "In My Time: A Personal and Political Memoir," which was released Tuesday, Cheney claimed Powell had undermined Bush, by criticizing policy to people outside the administration. Cheney told NBC News that the book would see "heads exploding all over Washington."

Speaking to CBS Sunday, Powell accused Cheney of taking "cheap shots" at him.
In the ABC interview, Wilkerson suggested Cheney was adopting a tough stance in an attempt to forestall criticism or even prosecution.

"What really sort of got my attention was this way in which he characterized it (the memoir): it's going to 'cause heads to explode,'" Wilkerson said. "That's quite a visual. And in fact, it's the kind of headline I would expect to come out of a gossip columnist, or the kind of headline you might see one of the supermarket tabloids write. It's not the kind of headline I would have expected to come from a former vice president of the United States of America.

"I think he's just trying to, one, assert himself so he's not in some subsequent time period tried for war crimes and, second, so that he somehow vindicates himself because he feels like he needs vindication. That in itself tells you something about him," he added.

"He's developed an angst and almost a protective cover, and now he fears being tried as a war criminal so he uses such terminology as 'exploding heads all over Washington' because that's the way someone who's decided he's not going to be prosecuted acts: boldly, let's get out in front of everybody, let's act like we are not concerned and so forth when in fact they are covering up their own fear that somebody will Pinochet him," Wilkerson added. . ."

I think the former administration failed to answer MANY questions after the events of 9/11/2001. . .




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The media is now. . .

. . . NOT ONLY the message. I think its safe to say that the media manufactures the message.

The message, designed for the public in general, is now a 'one-size-fits-all' (or as they say in Texas, "One-size-fits-y'all") message. This 'new' gospel is foisted upon us by a media so large and powerful, both physically and fiscally, that the preponderance of the general population happily and readily accepts it without qualm.

Rest assured, the doctor is NOT ALWAYS RIGHT and the priest, minister, rabbi or reverend is NOT ALWAYS HOLY.




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Contentment. . .

. . . could just be a thing of the past.

Question: AT&T and T-Mobile merging? WHY???
Answer: Greed

(From FreePress.net. . . )"The Justice Department filed suit to block AT&T's proposed takeover of T-Mobile. . . The DoJ lawsuit is built on the arguments that you and I have been making since this disastrous deal was first announced: If you remove a competitor from an already concentrated market, the results are bad for industry, bad for consumers and bad for society. And they're bad for jobs and the economy, too.

In today's Washington, corporations too often dictate policy. But what's good for AT&T isn't good for the rest of us. With today's decision, we see it's possible to challenge the most powerful corporations and make policy that actually serves the public interest.

In announcing the suit, the DoJ's top antitrust enforcer said, "Any way you look at it, this deal is anti-competitive."

Why can't all these greedy sumbiches just open their eyes, hunker down and BE CONTENT! If THEY can't do it, then we need more idealistic young (and old) people to take over the huge corporations and ensure that they provide the products and services they were created to provide without devoting ALL to enhancing the inflated and unrealistically decadent, almighty bottom line and luxuriously lining the pockets of the precious shareholders. We've got to work toward eliminating (or at least reducing) the inherent GREED in our society!




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I can't help it. . .

. . . I have to mention Michelle Bachmann again, and I realize it's old news, but. . .

Let me get this straight. 'GOD' is sending us a message? An earthquake and a hurricane are (separately, or as a 'package'?) a message from 'GOD' that we, as a nation, are spending too much? That's CLEAR! Isn't it????

The bigger question here is, was she really joking as her campaign spokesperson said? Or was that a bit of damage control after the fact. (Were she and her husband joking as well when speaking of their efforts to 'convert' gays to heterosexuality?) One commentator stated that Bachmann does not let criticism of these gaffes get to her. She does not respond or retaliate, like a Sarah Palin, when the press latches on to her outrageous outbursts. The commentator says this is how a 'seasoned' politician behaves. For Bachmann, that's good. Right?

I say to that commentator, and to the press at large, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE cover the news. ASK Michelle Bachmann if she was joking. Give us the real Michelle Bachmann. Is she, in fact, Michelle Bachmann- sophisticated, urbane wit? Or is she Michelle Bachmann- hayseed, fundamentalist, tribal, pre-scientific rube?

I really want to know.




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Ah, the aroma. . .

. . . of the whiskey sour fountain, the processed roast beef, the gargantuan plastic bowls of potato chips and pretzels, draft National Boh (or Pabst Blue Ribbon) and finally the Pièce de résistance, the sloe gin fizz. Yes, the sloe gin fizz; that bright red, sweet, satisfying concoction with a kick; at least for an adolescent. Yes, gloriously my entry into the world of 'professional' music was accompanied by an introduction to alcohol. (I am reminded of the Barenaked Ladies song, ALCOHOL.) In those days, the local, legal drinking age was 18, which I was not quite yet, and the practice of requiring ID before serving alcohol was not widespread and certainly not commonplace inside the doors of catering halls. Not that I was inebriated every time we played, though I may have, on occasion, consumed enough to mildly affect my performance abilities. But that was rare.

The band, now know as REFLECTION, was the 'house' band at the Harbor Inn. This meant that when the firm contracted for a wedding reception, bull roast, dance or bar mitzvah (the Jewish population had mostly abandoned East Baltimore for the Pikesville area by then), management offered the services of the fine young combo REFLECTION for music at the affair. This meant relatively regular work for the band and as a byproduct of that, an opportunity to refine our performance. In addition to the Harbor Inn, we were able to accept work at other, similar venues which meant I was actually earning money; earning money for doing something that I loved. It doesn't get much better than that. . . or DOES IT?




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The stars lay. . .

. . . in a blanket above. A gentle breeze blowing in from the sea. The last light flickers from one lonely candle. Never before was a night half as perfect for you and me. But there was a party last night. Yes there was a party next door cause there's a boy sleeping on the back porch.

You would have noticed a pin drop that evening. The peace and calm when romance fills the air. Ambience oozing from Coltrane and Hartman. And barely twenty feet away we'd no clue what was happening there. But there was a party last night. Yes there was a party next door cause there's a boy sleeping on the back porch.

No blaring rock and roll; no bottles on the walk. No screaming, shouting and no fights. Nobody called the law; no sirens in the night. Just one young man stretched out on a chaise sleeping it off.

Occasions such as this should be savored. The combination of circumstance rare. You may just be the true love that I've searched for. I think though, that the folks in the house that's next door just don't care. But there was a party last night. Yes there was a party next door cause there's a boy sleeping on the back porch.

BACK PORCH (from "Critic's Choice")
©2005 Raymond M. Jozwiak


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How many times. . .

. . . has someone said to you that they wish they could return to their childhood? I know I've heard it many. Sometimes I even think that maybe I would like to return to mine.

Take this week for example. First, we have an earthquake. A REAL, BONIFIDE EARTHQUAKE!! Right here on the east coast. And it wasn't just one of those earthquakes you hear about on the news the next day. I felt the earth shake. More than once. And everyone else in town felt it as well. Evacuation of the downtown buildings was automatic and simultaneous. It was like a huge block party - without the party (unfortunately). And when it occurred to me to inform my wife via cellphone and couldn't even connect to a working cell, I realized just how big the thing really was! That's not even mentioning the aftershock around 1AM Thursday morning.

Well, we all seemed to survive that well enough. Even managed to laugh a little about the 'severity' of the quake as pointed out on the internet by some west coast resident who is much more familiar with such occurrences and probably of much greater severity. So we plow onward through our workweek only to find out that a hurricane is due to affect our area by the weekend. And not just ANY hurricane! This baby is huge, strong and slow moving. Don't know what stats are available yet, but this storm (Irene, by name) will probably be one for our recordbooks based upon sheer size and strength. And its now Saturday night and she has arrived, so I'm listening to the rain slashing at the window and the wind howling outside as I write.

But sleep overcame me during the above, so I can now tell you that we appear to have come through this one alright. At least from the perspective of my house. Lots of leaves and small tree branches litter the area and the wind is still gusting, but I would dare to say we have another few hours and it'll be over.

WHFEWW!!!! Life goes one. Today I gotta replace the pull-cord of the ceiling fan in Harrison's room FOR THE THIRD TIME!!! Return to my childhood you ask??

Not me. NNNAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!




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