Part 3 June 19 Three in five. Catchy eh? Like the Bulls, Phil Jackson and "threepeat." What a way to run for Governor. I am the world champion of "how do I help a friend in Mexico by making a spectacle of myself here" diaries. There's dozens. And maybe the great citizens of New Jersey will get to see all this Diary Madness. But no jokes tonight. From this point forward- I'll test the waters, no calling myself an earnest scribbler, no links to Monty Python. Let me get serious because I’m seriously trying to help this friend who is back in Mexico; trying to educate myself more about Single Health Payer Insurance and be that candidate for Governor of N.J. Seriously. And I want to ask all of you a question, at least anyone I might have lured in so far. There's lots of other diaries you could be reading, so please come along.
First I whine. I deserve 1% in the polls, look how I make myself the butt of jokes. 1% in the polls though is when I get my one reporter.... to travel to Mexico with me, maybe register Hispanic voters, and maybe make Christy-Corzine sweat the amnesty-drivers license and insurance issues.
And I've gotten to this crazy point because I don’t know what else to do? Just because nothing has worked so far doesn't mean it won't work tomorrow. Doesn't it? But here's the real question I want to ask?
Are your e-mails ignored too? All my endless e-mails to the elite media, begging them to let me share my thoughts on bettering the sad situation of us vs. them, them being the undocumented's, plus my entree into the world of disgusting corruption in Mexico, at the lowliest local government level, which I might share with readers, get ignored day in , day out. I had illegals living with us for 5 years ending in 2007. Now in 2009 I’ve resorted to scrounging, and scrounging is the right word, 854 signatures to get on the NJ ballot for Governor. Screw my writing technique, critique it another day. My question again is- are your e-mails ignored too? Not the mass hysteria call to arms type e-mail, but the serious ones. Sometimes the shit gets pretty serious. For instance, while not an e-mail, how about the local flight instructor in 2001 who tried notify the FBI about certain individuals not wanting to learn about take off and landing techniques. The sister of Drew Peterson's second wife, or was it third wife- two murders back, comes to mind as well. She had something to say before the fact. I'll tell you this before the fact, a prosperous Mexico is in our own self interest, never mind the Mexicans. My fellow Republicans are stupid (but open borders isn't the answer either).
I'll be the bastard that calls attention to that tortured, stagnant, corrupt economy, drug wars aside. Why monkey around in Afghanistan if we can't do anything right by our Mexican neighbor. Please read my diaries. A private citizen, unlike an elected official, can say to Hispanics, "Hold back the remittances, pressure that government to clean up these small towns, embarrass them.... and we'll reward the illegals here with amnesty when it's all said and done." No? I'll keep dreaming and writing sarcastic diaries then. Somebody is going to say "uncle" first, I hope it's not me. Look how I go on and on. And yes, I still have that one question in mind and I hope somebody is chomping at the bit? But..
One more point, (I might be the next Joe Biden) and here's where it gets interesting from your standpoint. Being a candidate for Governor with absolutely no money, why wouldn’t I try and familiarize the news media about crazy me by forwarding my diaries? The slings and arrows, up to Wednesday- and that’s it I hope, are obviously forwarded as well. I try to respond to each and every person commenting in my diary. I laugh when the barbs are funny, all is fare in love and war and I’m a registered Republican, albeit a poor one, in your home court.
In the spirit of bi-partisanship, the question again is, are we ignored, are we taken for granted, are our e-mails unopened no matter how catchy the subject bar. We're all activists. There’s obviously too much electronic mail and nobody sends letters anymore. There’s stalkers, and there’s people sending letters laced with poisons, that's what we're up against. On the other hand look what’s possible living in the age we’re in, when you see what’s happening in the streets of Tehran. But on the other hand is the lone individual, speaking out, screwed now? Would anybody like to share their horror story frustrations? By the way I have an idea which I’ll keep to myself for now, on how to fight fire with fire. And it’s so f'n harmless and I’m just the one to do it, but I did promise no crazy talk now, and I’ll keep my word. It might not sound so bright in the morning anyway.
And then this. (99.9% of you never heard of me before and I can’t keep rehashing the same old song about me and my friends in Mexico to get you up to speed. A reporter might research my diaries, which some of you have called ravings in the past. He or she might be better able to fill in the blanks when they look at each diary separately and in context.) I would like to reprise this one comment by me which I had a chance to add to Weds. diary on Thursday, because after I’d logged off someone else commented. But please don't forget the question, are your e-mails ignored?
Only if you are interested in wine nt (0+ / 0-)
"We believe that the people are the source of all governmental power; that the authority of the people is to be extended, not restricted."-Barbara Jordan
by sancerre2001 on Wed Jun 17, 2009 at 08:51:15 PM PDT
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It’s too early for fine wine Thurs morn (0+ / 0-)
Thurs. 10:40 AM Got about 5 hrs sleep. Campaigning for Governor (Goober-ner) using the Kos as my biographical suppository, is hard work. Very thin line I’m walking if I was ever even meant to get right side up in the first place. I’m a turtle on it’s back. In other words "fly me to the fucking moon" (Bart Howard) for all the chance I have of getting one reporter to travel to Mexico with me, and while we’re (cozy), talk about middle class Americans without adequate health insurance. Hey reporter get that! Brother Sancerre (Sancerre is an Appellation d'origine contrôlée (AOC) for wine produced in the environs of Sancerre in the eastern part of the Loire valley) what do you think? I forward this shit to reporters.
One reporter and I could start (that) trip to Mexico together, right here in my house, by sitting down with my wife and trying to make her comfortable talking about herself and (what's) life (like) with diabetes, heart condition, surviving cancer, living with arthritis, you name it. Everybody knows how much those test strips cost just like everybody knows there’s rampant corruption in Mexico and troops are killed and horribly disfigured in Iraq and Afghanistan. So why do we need reporters? To drive it home I guess? Someone, I shouldn’t say this, on the Kos told me to do my own reporting? How can I explain to them how impractical that is? Just look at this writing, it is atrocious and I know it. (At least by the standards on this site.)
The wife is 53, looks strong as a horse, works like a horse, is pretty, and looks about 15 years younger then her age. She’s a great cook- great cook, and you ((yes you reporter dunce, could sit down for lunch and talk to me, her and the two other women living here (miserable economy, big house, but no sex that's for sure)) could ask what they all think of Stein for Congress, Stein for Governor. It’s a riot, (they ought to make a movie, and maybe they will) and two hours later we’ll be on the plane to Mexico City (out of Philadelphia) and we’ll eat a second time behind the airport where, I’m at least, not afraid to go by myself, and we’ll sit down in one of the open air kiosks and have (real) enchiladas. We’ll then go back in and walk to the far corner of the airport and buy bus tickets at counter where there were no signs directing you to in the first place. We won’t communicate in Spanish they won’t speak English. We’ll take a three hour bus ride on gorgeous state run turnpikes, the scenery will take your breath away. We’ll get off the bus in a certain teeming town and before we hitch a ride on an ancient Volkswagen or Nissan micro van slash taxi we’ll walk over to the Wal mart across the street. It’s called Aurega B something. (And) the spiffy new Wal mart, this one, the company having come out of the closet and called by it’s common American name Wal Mart, and about 5 miles on the outskirts of town, might finally be open now. I’m betting they don’t shut the original one, that Aurega something or another. It’s called a pincer maneuver. Now they’ll have the one for foot traffic, and the lines I’m sure will still be 15 deep, 15 across (I have pictures); plus a brand spanking new one outside of town for every one to get excited about. They’ll (the Mexicans) be so excited they’ll really sign up in droves for the company credit card.
If you like the Wal-mart angle we’ll come back the next day and investigate how our American company is affecting their local economy. Write about it, or give a heads up to your papers business reporter, meanwhile we have to zig zag, about 15 blocks to get that one corner and take the micro bus for 40 pesos to my friends house in the next town over. It’s all very beautiful but certain alarm bells should be going off by now especially with me there to guide you, you and me, the two Americans 3 hrs. from Mexico City..... where there are no, no, no foreigners to be seen here in this corner of Mexico- our southern neighbor with whom we share a 1500 mile border......
by mightyquinntheeskimo on Thu Jun 18, 2009 at 09:01:41 AM PDT
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