Sleazy Politics

Is There Any Other Kind?


From the "If you disagree with me you are evil" school of politics.

On Monday, Teddy Kennedy endorsed Barack Obama for president. From the reaction of NOW's New York chapter, you'd think that Kennedy had ordered women and children to the gas chambers.

Say the penis-enviers at NOW:

“Women have just experienced the ultimate betrayal. Senator Kennedy’s endorsement of Hillary Clinton’s opponent in the Democratic presidential primary campaign has really hit women hard. Women have forgiven Kennedy, stuck up for him, stood by him, hushed the fact that he was late in his support of Title IX, the ERA, the Family Leave and Medical Act to name a few. Women have buried their anger that his support for the compromises in No Child Left Behind and the Medicare bogus drug benefit brought us the passage of these flawed bills. We have thanked him for his ardent support of many civil rights bills, BUT women are always waiting in the wings.

“And now the greatest betrayal! We are repaid with his abandonment! He’s picked the new guy over us. He’s joined the list of progressive white men who can’t or won’t handle the prospect of a woman president who is Hillary Clinton (they will of course say they support a woman president, just not “this” one). ‘They’ are Howard Dean and Jim Dean (Yup! That’s Howard’s brother) who run DFA (that’s the group and list from the Dean campaign that we women helped start and grow). They are Alternet, Progressive Democrats of America, democrats.com, Kucinich lovers and all the other groups that take women’s money, say they’ll do feminist and women’s rights issues one of these days, and conveniently forget to mention women and children when they talk about poverty or human needs or America’s future or whatever.

“This latest move by Kennedy, is so telling about the status of and respect for women’s rights, women’s voices, women’s equality, women’s authority and our ability – indeed, our obligation - to promote and earn and deserve and elect, unabashedly, a President that is the first woman after centuries of men who ‘know what’s best for us.’”

Could it possibly be that Kennedy thinks Obama would be a better president that Hillary? Or that he thinks the guy has a better chance at winning in November?

Naaah. He's a betrayer and hater of women.

The "my opponents are crazy and evil" school of politics is nothing new. Mark Twain observed it more than a hundred years ago when he wrote in his book Christian Science: "We know exactly where to put our finger upon his (our opponent's) insanity: it is where his opinion differs from ours ... The rule is perfect: in all matters of opinion our adversaries are insane."

News Media Demands Blandness and Hypocrisy From Politicians

All of us need to start telling the fools in the news media to shut up, to turn of their cameras and tape recorders and to put their pens back in their pockets and purses. Now the big story of the president's State of the Union speech is that Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton didn't talk to each other in the Joint Chambers when President Bush gave his speech. That's right, they didn't talk to each other! Why would they? And who cares? By now they hate each other's guts. That's normal. If my political opponent's husband sneakily tried planting in voters minds that I was a dumb polack, I'd be pissed. I'd fight back. And I wouldn't be shaking the opponent's hand and smiling and joshing like we were good friends. I'd try poking out his eyes and and ripping out his intestines. So would most of you.

But to the jerks in the media, normal human emotions and feelings are forbidden. They demand "authenticity," from candidates, but then shriek and howl in disbelief and outrage when politicians act like normal people. It's normal to get pissed off and angry when someone messes with you. It's normal to try to get back at them.

The news hypocrites criticized Bill Clinton for getting angry at their often stupid an annoying questions, and they used to dump all over John McCain for having a temper. Well, guess what? We've all got tempers. We've all got people we hate and dislike. But to please the media types, we should not take our anger out on the people who've dumped. That would be wrong. In order to show them that you're not unduly angry at your opponents, go out and smash one of them in the face. It'll make you, and probably them, feel better.

Money, Money and More Money!

Humor

The Pocket Plunger and Other Money-Making Inventions

Invest Now!

In the end, there’s only one thing that people really want; only one thing that they dream of, pant about and desire with every atom of their earthly beings.

Some might think that it’s hours-long, groaning, moaning, groping, slithering, screaming, acrobatic whoopee with a luscious babe or well-muscled hunk who isn’t their boyfriend, girlfriend, spouse or worn out inflatable doll. Others, especially those who read a lot of war books as kids, will tell you that it’s the sight of a giant mushroom cloud over our enemies’ cities or their neighbors’ homes. Some troubled souls think that it’s something as unnatural as peace on earth, while others will say that it’s a cold twelve-pack of anything with alcohol in it.

They’re wrong. The only thing we really desire in life is MONEY—lots of it, gobs of it, mountains of it, TRUCKLOADS FULL OF IT! For money is the only thing that will set us free enough nuke our neighbors’ homes—just try buying a lump of plutonium with the change from the couch cushions—and buy as much degrading lust as it takes to turn our bodies into spent heaps of degenerating flesh.

Money doesn’t come easy, though. In order to make money, you’ve got to spend money. And now, Rick and I are giving you the opportunity to have TRUCKLOADS OF MONEY PULL UP TO YOUR GARAGE EVERY WEEK!

We’ve formed RD Development Services, Inc., a company that will invent, develop, manufacture and sell products and services that the world’s yearning masses—even commies, Democrats and poor people—will stomp over each other to buy. Riots at Wal-Marts and European soccer games will be nothing compared to the “I gotta have it now” rage our products will create.

In order to get our company started, and you ROLLING IN MORE MONEY THAN ALL THE WORLD’S PRINTING PRESSES CAN SPEW OUT, we need startup cash, or as they say in financial circles, venture capital seed money. We need you to give us money—I mean, invest in our company. We’re not soliciting billionaires because they’ve already got money, and we fervently believe that this amazing offer should be made only to PEOPLE LIKE YOU WHO TRULY BELIEVE IT’S POSSIBLE TO HAVE TRUCKLOADS OF MONEY PULL UP TO YOUR GARAGE!

We’ve formed this company in the spirit of past geniuses who’ve lifted humankind out of its squalor by inventing such labor-saving and spirit-lifting things as the pop-top beer can and thonged pantie. Here’s our initial line of products:

Screw the Drought Powdered Water™ Just add water to our Screw the Drought Powdered Water™ and you get water! Cool, wet, thirst-quenching and property-damaging water! Droughts across the planet? Not anymore! Add a gallon of water to our Screw the Drought Powdered Water™, and you’ll get a gallon in return. You’ll be able to recklessly waste water without guilt even in the deadliest of droughts. This is great for campers who hate lugging heavy water around, and for soldiers who haven’t the time, what with constantly being shot at, to refill their canteens. Need to flood the neighbors’ house? Just pour our Screw the Drought Powdered Water™ on their floors, turn on the hose and walk away!

Pocket Plunger® This is a product for everyone who has ever suffered the embarrassment of having expelled too big of a meal into one of those sissy toilets at relatives’ or friends’ homes. You flush, the plumbing can’t accommodate your healthy load, the bowl starts filling with water, the water nears the rim and you look frantically around for a plunger so as to avoid a messy flood, and there is none because the hosts have failed to put one out. Be embarrassed no more. Our retractable Pocket Plunger® has a sturdy, telescoping uranium/titanium alloy shaft and a supple, rubber bulb, that when retracted, fits into a large purse, brief case, backpack or computer bag. Whip that baby out, press the button and you’re ready to plunge your mess away. Cleanse the bulb in the sink, press the button to retract, return it to your brief case or purse, and no one will ever know that you pigged out and nearly ruined the plumbing.

Ant Specs© Remember those X-ray Specs from the backs of comic books? These are better. They’re demagnifying specs that will make anything you look at appear tiny and inconsequential—like ants! Got a jerk of a boss you’re scared of and afraid to confront or mouth off to? Pop on our Ant Specs© and those bosses will look like the insects they really are. You’ll feel bold, powerful and in control when they appear so small, and you’ll have no trouble working up the courage to shout obscenities at them. We expect to sell tens of millions of these to the military. When soldiers see that the armies, tanks and guns massed in their front look like toys, they’ll have no qualms about charging them. Many a glorious, blood-splattered charge will be launched because of Ant Specs©.

Freshen on the Fly Reversible Underwear® If one side gets a little, well, unwearable, just flip these babies inside out and you’ve got a fresh pair of unmentionables! Each side is differently colored, so no one will know, unless you’re bold enough to tell them, that you have freshened on the fly! Wear ‘em again and again! Hundreds of millions will be sold in France, where people wear their protective garb an average of four days before laundering them. These will—thankfully—reduce the French population, because after eight days of unlaundered bliss, they will have no urge to reproduce.

A little of your money will go a long way. Once the profits start rolling in we’ll start the TRUCKLOADS OF MONEY SPEEDING TO YOUR GARAGE! As an added bonus, we have developed, and will plant orchards full of millions of The Hell With Poverty Money Tree®. These trees will be grown in highly secretive and fiercely guarded locations—veritable money factories—where they will produce bills in $10, $20 and $50 denominations, which we will rush to you. As Rick explains:

“We’ll load the money loose into dump trucks, flip tarps over the beds and send them barreling down the highways. Bills will be flying everywhere, but no one will care because our investors will have more money than the world has ever known. No one will miss a few million bucks! I’ve calculated that within three years, our top investors will each be worth an average of $275,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000.03--after taxes!"

We know, of course, that once you make this money, you’ll want to keep it and not hand it over to the government. To that end we promise everyone who sends us money that we will KEEP NO RECORDS OF YOUR INVESTMENT! That way the IRS will never know how much you’ve invested and how much of the profits you’re reaping. And they’ll never be able to confiscate your TRUCKLOADS OF MONEY!

We don’t accept checks, money orders or credit cards, just U.S. dollars, and only $5, $10 and $20 bills.

Contact me at f.brilliant@yahoo.com and we’ll get you started on becoming a bazillionaire.

Hurry, though. Rick and I need a couple of twelve-packs.

Saving America's Vets

Interview with Sgt. Andrew Brandi

Sgt. Brandi, USMC, talks about the horrors of combat, post traumatic stress disorder and what combat veterans can do to save their lives. Brandi, the author of The Warrior's Guide to Insanity, talks about killing people and suicide, so if you're squeamish, don't watch. See the post below for details about Brandi's book.

Eye on New Mexico, January 27, 2008 -- Part 1

Nicole and Dennis discuss PTSD with retired Marine Corps Sgt. Andrew Brandi, author of 'Warrior's Guide to Insanity.'

Eye on New Mexico, January 27, 2008 -- Part 2

Nicole and Dennis discuss PTSD with retired Marine Corps Sgt. Andrew Brandi, author of 'Warrior's Guide to Insanity.'

Kick the Clinton's When They're Down

Clintons Get Sleazier as Their Entitlement Slips Away

Voters Can Make Sure They Don't Get Back Up

America's First Couple of Sleaze got what they deserved in South Carolina on Saturday: A humiliating, 28 percentage-point trashing and rebuke from voters who are sick of their slimy ways.

Democrats--white and black, young and old and male and female--finally shouted that they had had it with the Clinton's abusive behavior and sense that they're entitled to the presidency. Hillary cried in New Hampshire only because she thought she was going to lose. It was disgusting--like watching a kid throw a temper tantrum or crying fit. These two power-mad freaks tried their best to destroy Obama in South Carolina. They injected race into the campaign in their typically sleazy way. They offered innuendo to their lapdogs in the news media--fools who refuse to see through the Clintons because they're trying to effect the outcome of the election--who took the innuendo to Obama's aids. When the aids responded to the media's questions about race, the Clinton's accused them of bringing race into the campaign. It's pure sleaze.

Have no doubt: The Clintons are manipulative, power-mad freaks who will do and say anything--and who will try to destroy anyone, even a black presidential candidate--to get their way and preserve their power.

South Carolina was a break-through win for Obama, and a staggering defeat for the Clintons. Democrats, particularly black votes, said they had had enough and they weren't taking it any more. They finally saw through these sleazes. Now it's up to voters in the Super Tuesday states to make sure the Clintons don't get back up.

Please, all of you Democratic voters, do the nation a favor: Kick the Clintons when they're down. Drive a stake through their hearts. Don't let 'em get back up. Vote for Barack Obama.

Saving America's Vets

The Warrior's Guide to Insanity

Overcoming PTSD

One Soldier's Story

God Bless Sgt. Andrew Brandi, a U.S. Marine Corps Vietnam veteran. He's working to save America's vets--especially those young men and women returning from combat in Afghanistan and Iraq--from insanity and post traumatic stress disorder. And he's doing it the hard way: by revisiting his own 30-year bout with insanity.

Brandi killed women and children, burned too many villages to count and lost too many comrades to enemy rounds during his 13-month tour of duty in Vietnam.

When he returned to the States, he was, well, a vet with a fried brain.

He spent years dropping to the ground at the sounds of car backfires, dry-firing his weapons at TV screens while in drunken stupors, waiting in ambush while itching to kill hunters on his property, driving off three wives, going through 65 jobs, being a guest in VA psyche wards, trying to kill himself, staying away from shopping malls, checking buildings and ridge lines for snipers, and living a life tormented by the memories of combat. He nearly killed his first wife when she playfully sneaked up on him in the house one day. He stopped choking her just in time.

He was wracked with guilt for surviving when so many of is friends died, paralyzed by paranoia and the idea that well-armed snipers and enemies lurked everywhere, and debilitated by the guilt of having killed so many people.

For 12 years after he returned Brandi lived in his personal hell, never realizing there was something wrong, and never knowing where and how to get help.

He broke down one day in a movie theater after watching a Rambo movie. He sobbed in his seat and could barely move. He stumbled to a phone and called a friend who told him he needed shrink help. From there Brandi eventually recovered, but it took years.

He doesn't want today's returning combat veterans to suffer the same hell he did. He wants them to get immediate help. And help they need, Brandi says, because the situation for today's vets is more dire than it was for Vietnam vets. That's because today's warriors are having to pull two, and even three, combat tours, and it takes only one to scramble your brain.

Brandi's book, The Warrior's Guide to Insanity, details his insanity in a brutally honest way that will undoubtedly scare many people. But vets will understand his blunt, sarcastic and profane language. They'll understand when he counsels, "You can't kill everybody who pisses you off." They'll understand it when he writes:

"The first time I was in a firefight, surrounded by the 'Little People,' and my brothers and I were back to back, I learned what trust was: no little rice-propelled warrior in black pajamas was sneakin' up on me without having field surgery on the spot, that is, a new asshole placed in the middle of his head. My brothers, my 'friends' protected me with their lives, and I returned the privilege of putting my life on the line for them. You don't get any closer than that."

Brandi's premise is simple: War is beyond hell, those warriors who see combat are permanently changed by the experience--they will never be the same kids they were before they shipped out--their reactions, that is revulsions, to killing human beings are normal, and that they can overcome all that mental anguish had live happy, productive lives if they get the help that is out there.

Brandi sums PTSD up in one memorable paragraph:

"Why do you think the head shrinkers used to call a traumatic stress disorder Battle Fatigue? In their small, cluttered, pencil-pushin' minds, all they could figure out was that 'Gee whiz! Guess this warrior is gettin' burned out from being shot at, killing women and children, going without sleep, watching his friends get wasted, and having everybody with a pointed hat (now a Pizza Hut table cloth) on their heads trying to kill him.' Well no shit Sherlock! Talk about no-brainers!"

His advice is simple: Stay away from people who make you sick, talk with other vets, and if possible, get shrink help from people who have been through similar experiences. It's no one's fault. You're just human. War does this to people. There is no rush like combat, so deal with it. If you start the healing process now, it won't destroy your whole life.

There is much, much more in this incredible book. The fact is, you've never read anything like it--and never will--because no one has had the balls, like Brandi has, to write so honestly about such horrors. It's brutal, gut-wrenching--even funny--and, in the end, liberating.

This isn't just a book for veterans, though. Everyone should read it. Read it to understand what combat vets actually go through--it'll help you and them. And read it to see that most of your problems and worries are nothing compared to what these brave men and women have gone through for you. If you've been moping a lot or a little, you'll be inspired by this book to get off your ass and start solving your problems.

Buy this book. Donate copies to vets and veterans' organizations. Read it and urge your senators and representatives to help our returning vets.

Our veterans have put their lives and minds on the line for all of us. They come back from combat stressed and strained beyond belief. We need to understand what they've been through and are going through, and honor their sacrifices by helping them.

Throughout the book, Brandi stresses that combat changes people. "You will never be the same person you were," he writes, "so get on with making a new life plan."

Read this book and you will never be the same person you were.

Billionaires on the Border

Investigative reporting from Eileen Welsome

Former Albuquerque Tribune reporter looks at border deals


It's an all-too-familiar story: When there's money to be made, poor people and those without political influence get screwed. They get screwed out of their homes, land, water, dignity, and in many cases, even their lives.

The moneyed interests have converged along the U.S.-Mexican border in El Paso, Juarez and Santa Teresa, and the poor are being ground into the desert's baked earth.

Pulitzer-prize-winning reporter Eileen Welsome returns to New Mexico to uncover the deals that billionaires on both sides of the border are hatching and what it has meant to those without money and influence, especially the residents of the small Mexican community of Lomas del Poleo.

Welsome describes the guard towers and fences erected by Mexican businessman Jorge Zaragoza Fuentes around Lomas del Poleo, the bulldozers crashing into the residents' small shanties and cinder block homes, the beatings, the clubbings and the terror of people being driven from land they believe is theirs.

Welsome details in her three-part series how businessmen on both sides of the border refer to the area as Panamericano and Union Americana, and how prominent politicians on both sides, including U.S. Sen. Pete Domenici and Gov. Bill Richardson have thrown in with the moneyed interests.

It's gripping reading at Eileen Welsome.com


About Eileen Welsome--Welsome won a Pulitzer Prize in 1994 for her reporting on how the U.S. government treated citizens as human guinea pigs and injected them--without their knowledge or consent--with Plutonium in the 1940s. Welsome goes after stories that other reporters are too scared to touch. She is the author of The Plutonium Files, an in-depth look at the Plutonium injections and U. S. Cold War scientific policy, and The General and the Jaguar: Pershing's Hunt for Pancho Villa: A True Story of Revolution and Revenge.

Agent of change!

Domrzalski announces for president!

Runs on platform of change

Vows to change wife, beer brands, light bulbs and more!

Thank you all for showing up here today and sharing with me this greatest event in America’s history—hell, in the world’s history.

You know, I believe in freedom. I love freedom. Damn, I am freedom itself, so feel free—feel enormously free to cheer wildly for me, to look adoringly at me, especially all you hot babes—to never stop shouting, screaming, stomping your feet, clapping your hands, yanking out your hair and drinking heavily all on account of me. Feel free to let the world know through your wild cheering that I am the greatest—I mean that this is the most historic moment ever in the history of ever!

I, my friends, relatives, bums off the street and everyone else we got here today with the promise of free liquor and American cheese sandwiches, am announcing that as of this moment I am a candidate for the presidency of the United States of America!

Now is not the time to look bewildered, stunned and scared. The cameras are rolling, so start cheering, you goofs. Make this thing look good!

Why am I running? Why am I sacrificing my time, less-than-sterling reputation and your money to run for the office, which, quite frankly, I’m entitled to and shouldn’t have to campaign for at all? This should be a coronation, not a competitive election. I mean, someone as great and as intelligent as me—I am smarter than all of you put together—should just be installed as president. I shouldn’t have to go through the indignity of having to convince all you fools and idiots to vote for me. Do you know who I am? Do you know how vastly superior I am to you and to everyone else on this planet? I am the president! I … am… the … president! I’m the f#@&*$! president!

And I’m president for life! The hell with the constitution! It was written before I was born and my all-consuming greatness was recognized. To be honest, I’m a self-centered, self-absorbed control freak who lusts for power. I love power and authority, and dammit, when I get to Washington I’m going to tell each and every one of you how to live your lives. And I’ll get even with anyone who has ever opposed and criticized me or held an opinion different from mine. In fact, anyone who thinks differently than I do is crazy—certifiably insane—and I’ll have you all committed to insane asylums.

And don’t you dare ask me questions about issues—I won’t answer them. Don’t have to. I’m not accountable to the news media, to the public or anyone or anything else. I’m an arrogant jerk, who, as I said before, am smarter than all of you. So trust in my infinite wisdom and don’t dare question me. If you do question me, be assured that I will punish you and make your lives living hells.

Mine will be a presidency of money—money, money and more money! If you’ve got money and have given it to me—I mean to my campaign—you’ll have access to me and I’ll do you political favors. I represent moneyed interests. This is a government of moneyed interests, by moneyed interests and for moneyed interests! I would love to represent poor people, but since they don’t have money, the hell with them!

And speaking of money, let me get to the real reason I’m running for president. That reason is change! Americans are clamoring for change. They can feel change, and they can taste change. All those losers in the race now talk about change, but it’s obvious from their statements that they have no idea what it is. Their ignorance on this issue tells me that they really are not committed to change.

Well, I am committed to change—deeply committed, fervently committed!

My opponents babble constantly about change, but I’m the only candidate—and this is pure truth and I don’t apologize for uttering it—who walks around with change in his pocket! Right now I’m loaded down with quarters, nickels, dimes, pennies and Susan B. Anthony dollars!

How committed am I to change? This committed: I no longer use paper money. I pay for everything with change! I have change in jars in my house, change in bowls, change in brown paper bags, change on the floors, change in couch cushions, change everywhere!

And, unlike my opponents, I know how to make change—and I don’t need a computer to do it. If someone buys an item for four dollars and eighty-three cents, and pays for it with a five- dollar bill, well, I know that they’re due seventeen cents in change! No one loves change more than I do. When I’m president I will ban paper money and dictate that all financial transactions be conducted with change. No paper money, no debit cards, no credit cards, just change!

Let me tell you how else I’m committed to change—how for me change means action, not empty rhetoric. I promise you—promise you!—that when I get to Washington there won’t be a day that goes by where I don’t change my mind! I will change my mind constantly—change it for no reason at all, change it based on principle, change it for the sake of change, change it because I’ve promised change. One day I’ll be for the war, the next day I’ll be against it. One minute I’ll support universal health care, the next I’ll oppose it. I’ll change my mind hundreds, if not thousands, of times a day. Our enemies and allies won’t know what hit them. They’ll be more hopelessly confused that a true-believing liberal.

Mostly, though, I’ll change my mind for money. If I’ve taken a position on an issue and someone from the other side offers me money to change my mind, I’ll change it. When I’m driving my car, and yes, I will drive myself, I’ll change directions just for the hell of it. I’ll make lane changes. I’ll change light bulbs, change my car’s oil, change the bed sheets, change TV channels, change my wife, change beer brands, change my name, change everything! Change! Change! Change! Change! Change! Change! Change!

Let me end by saying the one thing that will convince you, that will permanently sear into your brain the idea that in all of history there has been no one more committed to change than I, that I am an agent of change, that I am change itself.

I promise you that when I get to Washington—but not until then—I will make the greatest change of all, the biggest change in all of history, the most massive change ever, the change that will have people talking forever and all time, the change that will awe and humble the Almighty. My friends, when I get to Washington I will—finally—change my underwear!

Good night, and God bless.