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I love you Geraldo.  I really do, but you never answer the e-mails I send you, the ones that are always about one subject, crooked Mexico, a subject you and I hold dear.  I took the time to read your book HIS-PANIC (and e-mail you of course, I wish you’d e-mail me back just once).  Would you please stay off the subject of Mexico in the future if you’re going to have numbskulls like Jesse Ventura on your show to talk about Mexico like you did last night?  Or for that matter, if you’re going to go down to the border like you did last month with your brother Craig and only penetrate about 5 miles into the country for an investigation; so few miles in perhaps that you could still beat a hasty retreat to the first class hotels on our side of the line?

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Mr. Presidente of Mexico (Or any facsimile thereof) "bienvenido paisano"( and everbody else 20 minutes of your time please),

I live in the United States where my wife and I operate a small business and earn enough money to live fairly well. The latest chapter in a two year odyssey to help one of your nationals earn a decent wage took me north into Canada last week where I quietly went about the business of helping  my friend, who lived with us for 5 years, look for work and maybe move there.  Visiting Canada is a lot different then visiting your country like I did on 4 different occasions over two years, after my guest, now looking to start from scratch in Canada, returned home from the states.

But never mind my friend for a few minutes, and this might sound nuts, but the experiences I accumulated in Mexico, in contrast to boring Canada, injected new life into a jaded mid-aged male and made him feel like a young dude again.  Unfortunately for some, ever since I returned home I’ve become a pain in the behind....

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(To be forwarded to my arms length e-mail contact list of media hot shots (elitists) who I bug even more then I do you, as I did even yesterday.  I’m sorry (kossacks) but you have to fill in some of the blanks, it’s not hard to imagine what I’m up to, and so what if my methodology is a little unorthodox and maybe not politically in lock step with you, or the right wing for that matter....or the middle?  It’s lonely where I am.)

(This morning’s e-mail to the media. 10 to 1 odds unopened.  )

I hope you’ve been following.  A big "if"  If you were then you might have clicked on and read the link to a Peace Corps. Volunteers Diary from Mexico .  Is it as galling to you as it is to me that the Peace Corps is pecking away, for what, in Mexico?   And yesterday (ironically) I traveled seamlessly across the US-Canadian border and into Toronto without experiencing my first deprivation yet.  Get it?  I hope you do, and that  you also remember that my friend from Mexico is flying into Toronto today and hopefully  finds work here.

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Better late then never sometimes works but not this week it doesn’t.  The good friend, the illegal, the one who lived with us for 5 years, the one who lives one hour outside Mexico City- the hard working- class act that I’ve begged editor and reporters, columnists or anybody with a pulse in the news industry to interview--- if you really want to understand why the dysfunctional (51st) state to the south, well functions on life support----that guy will be traveling north on Friday via the Mexico City International airport. He’ll probably pass the last contingency of press lemmings fanning out in search of a Mexican wearing a hospital mask.

I’ll be meeting him in Toronto. Hopefully Mexico’s and the U.S.’s loss will be Canada’s gain.

Nice going press.  You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink.

I got the runaround, runaround, runaround, runaround
And I'll tell you why

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As I write this diary I’m thinking of last weeks headline Love  song from Al Capone discovered . Indulge me once more Kosacks, the wandering Republican can’t resist posting this- what will be viewed probably as yet another twisted diary in the minds of the liberal intelligentsia.

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Wed Apr 15, 2009 at 09:23 AM PDT

Dear Matt Lauer

by Gary Stein

Nothing wrong seeing you doing an interview with  Wal-Mart’s new CEO Mike Duke at a Philadelphia store this morning on Today, however  I was in several Wal-Marts in Mexico last year, far away from the tourists, and there’s a heck of a more interesting story down there where the lines, depending on the Wal-Mart, are 10-15 deep and 20 across...

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my hand

I was changing them around they were going my way until you truly went off the deep end. I can respect that n/t (0+ / 0-) , Gary Stein on Fri Feb 13, 2009 at 07:13:17 PM PDT , that trash you called an opening monologue yesterday, on immigration, "the ignorance of certainty" (0+ / 0-) Gary Stein on Fri Dec 26, 2008 at 09:47:16 AM PDT and that infantile stunt with the gasoline, You make sense (0+ / 0-) G.S. has me seeing red when I think of "fair and balanced", I like your style (0+ / 0-) G.S. , FOX news network’s now debunked catchphrase. Trolling " has a threatening connotation n/t (0+ / 0-)G.S

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"So GM and Chrysler are broke- better them than me"  

Mr. Cohen, perhaps you recognize the author of this letter, I e-mail you at least once a week.  I’m one of the little people whose e-mails probably pile up in your in-box.  I’m sure you’ve never heard of me.  The good people of the Daily Kos, where this letter will also be posted (one way of fighting back) think their diaries excoriating Bill O’Reilly are read by him.  Isn’t that a scream?  These excellent writers reveal themselves as being a little naïve though, when they can’t resist adding the words "I know you’re reading this Bill" to their diary.

Mr. Cohen, I have two favorite columnists; you and Charles Krauthammer.

You're walkin' along the street, or you're at a party,
Or else you're alone and then you suddenly dig,
You're looking' in someone's eyes, you suddenly realize
That this could be the start of something big....

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Jim Cramer do you want your self respect back? Or you can just read this and gloat*.  I’ve  never, ever watched Stewarts show but everybody is instantly aware of everything now, and of course I watched Cramer vs. Stewart last month on you tube unfortunately.  And then the other day, there was this anything for a laugh lampoon of Detroit and Obama  by the now very much exalted Stewart

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Mon Mar 30, 2009 at 07:29 PM PDT

Rank Discrimination

by Gary Stein

Another diary tanks after I mention, one, that I’m a Republican and that I’m in the office cleaning business, and two, while posting using a real name.  Can we analyze this?  Never in the history of this esteemed blog has another person stood out as nakedly in public as I, (or is the proper pronoun me).  Or back it up.  Take that thought in the parenthesis; I’m indicating to you that I could appreciate the studied (wrong word? I'm not sure?) avoidance of my diaries- if my writing is just plain awful, but not- if there’s a stigma connected to me based on party affiliation, and being so openly "out" with my name.  I could be "in the closet," never mentioning I’m an (R); and I have thought of playing around with the pseudonym Wyatt Earp.  You’d prefer Captain Kirk, like in "beam me up Scotty"?  It’s my writing isn’t it?  

 I await your comments, opinions, and the inevitable crazy pussycat image downloads.  The diarist has four lovely felines at home.

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You Kossacks (means I’m a fellow Kossack too?) are invited to read another private e-mail to my friends in the snob media.  I’m always hoping for an exception and for that special someone in a position of importance to respond back.  Dateline Phoenix, Arizona.

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Lincoln Logs, An Ape named Travis, a 5000 DOW, and mendacity.

Fellow American’s- What a serious case of the pot calling the kettle black. Home of the brave, land of the free;  welcome to Freedonia,  it’s  Duck Soup. "Take two turkeys, one goose, four cabbages, but no duck, and mix them together. After one taste, you’ll duck soup for the rest of your life."  Groucho Marx.  

Minister of Finance: Something must be done! War would mean a prohibitive increase in our taxes.
Chicolini: Hey, I got an uncle lives in Taxes.
Minister of Finance: No, I’m talking about taxes - money, dollars.
Chicolini: Dollars! There’s-a where my uncle lives! Dollars, Taxes!    

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