This past Memorial Day I was reading a piece from the indefatigable Charles P. Pierce at The Politics Blog at Esquire about our nation's most recent gun massacre and these words rang as true as a Presbyterian Bell Choir:
"Wayne LaPierre gets paid when his masters sell guns to the bad guys. Wayne LaPierre gets paid when his masters sell guns to the good guys because of the guns he's already arranged to sell to the bad guys. Wayne LaPierre is the strange white man in the Congo who knows where he can get you some AK's. He's the shadowy fellow in the coffee shop in Kabul who knows where RPG's can be had, cheap. He's the well-dressed, silken-voiced operator, sipping his tea on a cool and breezy veranda outside of Bogota, who smiles at you and shows you on the map where you can pick up your order, because it is time once again for you to make war and him to make money. His look is the smooth and shiny black of the vulture's feathers. He feasts on the carrion of nations."
It took me all of five minutes of googling the intertoobs to find out who's behind this rash of bills..... Kansas and Arizona are just the beginning, folks. 38 states are being targeted by this template law.
Below the fold are the details. They're short, but sweet.
I have defended this administration from every nonsensical charge made by the GOP that has been cooked in every meth lab bubbling up from south of the Mason-Dixon line. This constant culture of scandal mongering is not only abhorrent to me, it's bad for this nation.
With that said, I opened my browser this morning and went to Charlie Pierce's Politics Blog.
Those of you familiar with Charlie, know him by his writing to be a sane voice in a din of conventional wisdom.
So it was with some surprise when I read this morning's post on the DoJ that: .... in all, the government seized the records for more than 20 separate telephone lines assigned to AP and its journalists in April and May of 2012.
Follow below for Charles' take and my reluctant ascent.
It's been a long time since I've set foot in a Walmart. I've always hated the way their workers looked beat up, the customers looked worn down, the stores all look the same; like an outlet of pain and depression all designed for the reaping of a maximum in profits.
But now I have another reason to loathe the place. They not only impoverish their workers here, they kill their workers in far away lands and do it on the QT.
This is rich. Bobby Fucking Jindal is calling for the GOP to become more enlightened:
“It is no secret we had a number of Republicans damage our brand this year with offensive, bizarre comments — enough of that,” Jindal said. “It’s not going to be the last time anyone says something stupid within our party, but it can’t be tolerated within our party. We’ve also had enough of this dumbed-down conservatism. We need to stop being simplistic, we need to trust the intelligence of the American people and we need to stop insulting the intelligence of the voters.”
The Republican Party has completely foregone the dog whistle. They're simply out and proud racists. I will henceforth consider any member of the GOP as a fellow traveler with these scumbags. The entirety of the GOP is complicit and in league with this rhetoric. And until I'm sufficiently satisfied that they no longer trade in this nonsense, they are all suspect. And the only way to satisfy me is for them to lose elections because they no longer have the support of the Confederate Wing of the radical right. Until then, in my mind, they're ALL guilty.
Just before I woke up today, I had the most vivid dream. Now, I'm a lucid dreamer, so I stayed with this dream for a long time, allowing it to shift and controlling the shift as I usually do, but I remained centered on the main topic...... my father had died (In reality he died nearly 2 years ago).
Since he died last August, I never really mourned Pop. I never really cried. I don't know why. I just didn't.
But this morning, in my dream, he died. And all the people that I have loved throughout my youth and to the present, my closest cousins, my best friends, my enemies, everyone that I have loved and still love, they all came around to pay their respects to dad. In my dream I found myself in a shower room, naked, water turned on all around me. And I was crying. Crying so hard that my tears weren't running down my cheeks, but rather were actually jetting from my eyes in a steady stream like water from a hose. Uncontrolled by any muscle, unabated by any will. I just let them stream out........And as people came up to me to pat my back, give condolences, say their piece, the tears kept streaming. I received these visitors with joy and thankfulness, without shame....... In my naked, vunerable grief.
I think I have finally grieved my father. I still miss him terribly. I still feel that loneliness of his absence, but I believe that the grief just moments ago poured out of me in one, beautiful lucid dream.
This is not about any particular friend. It's just about friends. And I'm not making a distinction between friends and other loved ones, or between love and compassion for that matter. These are all ...
My feelings about Barack Obama are complicated. As a man, he is about as impressive as they come. He rose from humble origins as a mixed-race kid from a broken home in a deeply racist nation to take ...
Note: I wrote this back when The Nation article was published and the issue was fresh. I didn't post it for some reason and when I came across it recently, I thought someone might enjoy it. Plus it'...