My Belated Mothers Day Message

I realize this is a few days late. I started writing it on the week preceding Mothers Day, but as with all my writing, my dual careers prevented me from finishing it. I’ve resorted recently to posting three lines to accompany other people’s writing. I should really stop doing that. I used to be a pretty prolific blogger, but that was just a hobby. My moneymaking careers take precedence, supporting three college students n’ all. I really would like to give one of them up, but I digress.

Mothers Day. My mother’s name is Heyda Lucia Torres. At one time she was Heyda Lucia Hubble and then (I think) Heyda Lucia Torres de Vazquez. She was born in 1940. She would be horrified that I put that out there as if anyone looking at her wouldn’t get that she’s going to be 71 years old this year. How she got there mystifies me, and her doctors. She likes to say that it’s because she follows her doctor’s orders. That if he told her to eat a daily turd wrapped in seaweed that’s precisely what she’d do. I know, the imagery is pretty bad, but I’m trying to paint an accurate picture here.

Heyda is a dancer. She doesn’t dance much since she suffered a massive stroke in 1978 at the young age of 37. The stroke left her with a pronounced limp and limited use of her left hand, which she refers to as her “claw”. But she remains a dancer in her heart and soul. In her youth she danced briefly on television as part of a troupe of dancers on a variety show. My stern grandmother only allowed her to do this if she attended Beautician College after the season was over. She did, but she never worked as a beautician. Here is one of the most valuable lessons I learned from my mother although she did not teach it to me directly. Never give up on your dreams, regardless of how ridiculous they may seem to others. Your dreams are God’s gifts. This is a biblical principle by the way. How much more insane can a dream get than Abraham and Sarah’s dream of having children in their 90’s?

I believe my mother always regretted not becoming a dancer. It is probably her only major regret, but may have been the catalyst for how she has lived since. Instead, at the tender age of 18, she married a young Army specialist who was stationed in Puerto Rico at the time. His name was Garry Lee Hubble. They proceeded to have four children in their almost 12 years together. I’m the second one.

Through the course of her life my mother lived what most women dream of and also dread. She travelled extensively in her youth as an Army wife and lived with an alcoholic during that time. She raised her children with a permissiveness she wished she had as a child and didn’t have (apparently her sister and her were referred to as the “nuns of Condado”). She is a rebel at heart. She decided after two marriages that she would no longer take any crap from any man, which loosely translates into she would not be accountable to any relationship convention.

Ironically, she complains of being alone. I don’t think she’s putting the pieces together. I remember once after arguing with my wife, my mother, who was visiting, proceeded to give me “relationship advice”. It occurred to me that my relationship with my wife at the time was longer than any my mother had ever had. In fact, I had at that time lived with my wife longer than I had lived with my mother. When I pointed out the irony of her offering me that advice she replied that just because she didn’t know how to make a relationship last didn’t mean she didn’t know how to advise one on how to do so. Then she pointed out how stubborn I was being. It still cracks me up.

As a mother she is as fallible and imperfectly human as can be. My siblings are less forgiving, but I have come to terms with her. Just as my father she is almost completely self-absorbed. What she defined as “giving her children freedom” I translate as her not wanting to put in the hard work that a supervising parent must do to guide their young children through the travails of youth. We pretty much raised ourselves; left to our own devices as it were. It still surprises me that we survived our own creativity. How we all wound up productive members of society probably has as much to do with nature as with nurturing.

The greatest thing I can say about her parenting skills was this. In all my developing years I never once heard her say a negative thing about me. Not one. Even when I screwed up it was all about the behavior and not me personally. In her mind’s eye we were the princes and princess of Puerto Rico. We were the funniest, handsomest, prettiest, smartest of all. My sister took some criticism in her teens, but even then it was the result of my mother knowing that being a woman on the island was tough and you had to be tough to survive it. You just cannot underestimate the powerful impact of this kind of positive reinforcement. If you’re not careful you could wind up a little narcissistic (of course marriage will beat that out of you in due time). In the end, this self image is critical.

This self image is also the way she carries herself. She sees herself through a different prism than the rest of us. As you can see from the photo, my mother was breathtakingly beautiful in her youth. She had classic latina features and a very buxom build when that was still fashionable. Based on her wardrobe, I believe she still thinks she has that same body. Based on her behavior I believe she still thinks she is that age. Near as I can tell she has been reliving her youth for the past 32 years. This could very well be the secret to her longevity. Most women can do with a little dose of her self image.

I love my mother unconditionally as well, even though she annoys me to no end. To her friends and most people who meet her she is the Pied Piper. She has an incredible knack for making others feel pretty darned good about themselves and she leaves an indelible mark on them. I’ve never met a person who after meeting her has anything but glowing remarks about her. She has completely captivated the Sunday School class she attends every time she visits me. In fact, I believe the only people she annoys other than me are my siblings, and the men in her brief relationships.

A few years back I invited her to move in with me as she is on a very tight budget with her fixed SSI income and a monthly stipend from me. Also, and this is my opinion, she’s probably well past the point where she can take care of herself properly. Her response to this invitation was “I’m not dead yet”. I try not to overanalyze the fact that my mother equates moving in with me with death. I am clear that she believes I’m somewhat of a party pooper.

She has informed us that if it gets to the point where she can no longer take care of herself that we are to put her in one of those “Homes”. Of course in her mind that time is ten to twenty years off. I suspect that a decision will have to be made sooner than later. I will say this, whatever home she lands in will be forever changed by Hurricane Heyda. Whether for the good or bad would be a matter of opinion, but I’m clear the menfolk of that facility will be walking taller, dressing better and combing their sparse hairs more often. She still seems to have that effect on men. I myself am not looking forward to that day. It’s very possible that I wish I could see her through her own eyes.

Happy Mothers Day Mami. Que Dios te bendiga siempre.

RIP Blake Edwards

Blake Edward, dead at 88. May he rest in peace. I don’t know what his politics were, but I’m pretty sure I can state fairly accurately that he was probably another Hollywood leftist. Not that it matters to me since his movies never beat you over the head with his politics. At least not the ones I was a fan of, and there were many. Obviously the Pink Panther movies top that list. Not just for the physical comedy and brilliant delivery of Peter Sellers, but for dialogue like this:

Clouseau: Does your dog bite?

Hotel Clerk: No.

Clouseau: [bowing down to pet the dog] Nice doggie.

[Dog barks and bites Clouseau in the hand]

Clouseau: I thought you said your dog did not bite!

Hotel Clerk: That is not my dog.

and this one:

[after Clouseau accidentally reduces a piano to a pile of splinters]

Mrs. Leverlilly: You’ve ruined that piano!

Clouseau: What is the price of one piano compared to the terrible crime that’s been committed here?

Mrs. Leverlilly: But that’s a priceless Steinway!

Clouseau: Not anymore

Those were from the best of the Pink Panther series (IMHO), The Pink Panther Strikes Again.

The slapstick scenes and the ones between Clouseau and Kato crack me up no matter how many times I watch them. I only wish Bert Kwok had been in more movies. He made an appearance in Jet Li’s Kiss of the Dragon, but in a serious role. I haven’t seen him in any others.

Anyways, I’ve enjoyed almost every Blake Edwards movie I’ve seen. My favorite, hands down outside of the Pink Panther series is an obscure film almost no one has seen but is in my opinion quintessential Blake Edwards. The movie is called Skin Deep and it features John Ritter in what I consider to be his best comedic role; a womanizing, alcoholic writer who is ultimately redeemed. The scene where John Ritter’s character (Jack) is trying to get to his car after being electrically tortured by an ex-girlfriend is a hilarious example of physical comedy at its best and John Ritter was a master at this.

What made Edwards’ movies stand out was the witty, almost always hilarious dialogue, his knack for creating complex, funny characters and making completely wacky situations seem almost possible. The storylines were always interesting even if the premise was as simple as surviving the Blind Date from hell! Even some of the minor characters in his movies were memorable. The waiter in the restaurant scene in Victor/Victoria (Graham Stark) was hilarious. The actor portraying that waiter made appearances in several Edwards’ movies.

I haven’t seen all of his movies. I’ve never seen the iconic Breakfast at Tiffany’s and I’m pretty sure I won’t see it unless I’m dragged to it. One of these days I’ll watch Days of Wine and Roses, but I’m pretty sure I won’t like it either.

Again, I’m not sure where his politics leaned, but I know he and his wife were both philanthropists and were big on children’s causes, so that makes him okay in my book besides the fact that his movies have provided me with hours of laughter and entertainment. He’s one of the few directors in Hollywood who made movies that my wife and I both enjoyed, and that is indeed an anomaly. That he was married for 41 years also makes him an anomaly in Hollywood, although how hard can it be to be married to Julie Andrews? I’m gonna have to dig out my collection of Pink Panther movies and sit down and enjoy a belly laugh or two. RIP Mr. Edwards and thank you.

And so this is Christmas…

And so this is Christmas.

I know, I shamelessly stole that line from that misguided, secular, but optimistic John Lennon song. Not because it’s my favorite or because I even particularly like it all that much. If you must know, my favorites are The Little Drummer Boy, Mary Did You Know, Do You Hear What I Hear, and for just foot tapping, finger snapping simplicity, Feliz Navidad gets me going. But much like the former Beatle, I’m trying to make a point.

Many things to say about Christmas. For Christians this season is yet another occasion to celebrate the life of our Lord and Savior. Additionally, we use the season to attempt to bring more people to Christ. We don’t need a specific season to do either of those things as we do them all year long, but since this time of year where many do focus just a little on Christ (whether you believe in Him or not) we Christians like to strike while the iron is hot and redouble our efforts to attempt to save those who still need saving (I use the term “we” loosely as I’m a lousy disciple. I’m more concerned with my personal salvation and those close to me than anyone elses). In the process we give more money to support missions, collect food for the poor, perform work for those unable to do it, and comfort for those who need it. Again, we do this all year long as well. We’re a nice bunch, despite the movies, TV shows and books depicting the lot of us as intolerant, narrow minded, racist (only if you’re white), backward knuckle dragging superstitious, troglodytes and lunatics. There are those most certainly out there, but like all cross sections of society, it takes all kinds and those guys get all the press.

I’m not going to rant against the commercialization of the season as I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. For one thing, being a shameless capitalist I don’t see a single thing wrong with people going out there and spreading their money around more than usual, stimulating the economy and creating more jobs. For whatever reason. Heck, some businesses NEED the Christmas season to balance out their entire year. Nothing wrong with that and shopping has little to do with Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

I’m also not going to rant against the policy of wishing people a “Happy Holidays” instead of Merry Christmas, because the simple fact of the matter is that the season also includes the Holy celebration of Hanukah, the made up season of Kwanzaa and the ridiculous season of Festivus (Seinfeld fans will get that). I will wish everyone a Merry Christmas, but if I don’t get it in return, I’m just not going to get my knickers in a wad about it. I won’t boycott businesses who won’t say Merry Christmas and I won’t let it diminish my joy with the season.

I won’t even rant against the militant attempts by atheists and agnostics who want to remove all Christian symbols such as nativity scenes from public view and forcing everyone to refer to secular symbols like Christmas trees as “Holiday Trees”. Kind of ironic since the word “Holiday” is derived from the words Holy Day. I think it’s a little ridiculous and hysterical that they assign so much power to something they profess to not believe. I’m sure they wouldn’t attack a big statue of Obi Wan Kenobe with as much vehemence. We all know he doesn’t exist, but he clearly doesn’t evoke the same vitriol as any image that may represent Christ in any way shape or form. Funny thing. I lived in Qatar for almost two years. It is a country governed for the most part by Sharia law, although they are regarded as a moderate Muslim country. During Christmas, images of Christ are prevalent throughout the season. There are displays of Nativity scenes and the words “Merry Christmas” are displayed prominently. I actually caroled in Qatar to a group of Christians, Jews and Muslims and the Muslims enjoyed it just as much (my solo performance of Feliz Navidad was talked about throughout the year, mostly because of volume rather than musical talent). Here’s something from Abu Dhabi this season:

I know the tree began as a secular symbol, but they’re still calling it a CHRISTmas tree. I personally know atheists who are celebrating Christmas with those same symbols. And what does Christ have to do with a Christmas tree? The Menorah is a more specific symbol of a Holy day than the Christmas tree. Shouldn’t we be decorating a cross or a giant fish? The Christmas tree has little to do with Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

Some like to make the point that Christmas has little to do with Christ at all. The gift giving at Christmas was intended to commemorate the gifts brought to Him by the Three Wise Men as an infant, but the gift giving during Hanukah has nothing to do with that, so gift giving is not it. There are other Winter customs of gift giving that are not based on the Three Kings story as well. Gift giving has little to do with Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

December 25th as the historic date of Christ’s birth does not really exist. In Spanish countries January 6th is the celebrated date. Not of His birth but of the visit by the Three Kings. Puerto Rican children make out because they get gifts on both days. It’s one of those mysteries that of all the specifics that we know about Jesus’ life, we don’t really know the exact date of His birth. We know his family genealogy all the way to Adam and Eve. We can pinpoint the hundreds of thousand year old prophesies he fulfilled in His life and can verify His historic existence via other documentation besides the Bible. We just don’t know exactly what date He was born. We began our modern day calendar based on His life even though the term “Before Christ” or BC is no longer being used. Before Common Era or BCE is now the popular term. December 25th or January 6th have little to do with Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

The point is, none of that stuff is going to bother me this Christmas and here’s why. Jesus Christ of Nazareth is bigger than all of it. He is bigger than any plastic display of His birth or any pagan symbol added to celebrate His birth. He will not cease to exist because some people stamp their feet and have a meltdown at the mere mention of His name. Much like love, gravity, subatomic particles and other intangibles, He exists despite the inability to see or touch Him. The fact that some don’t believe in Him doesn’t change this one bit.

That people behave a little nicer during the season is a good thing. That they give gifts and get in touch with people they don’t speak with all year is a good thing. That we get to eat all kinds of goodies we may avoid all year is a good thing. That we’re just a little friendlier, kinder, happier, sappier, these are all good things. That intentionally or not, it is because of the birth of the Savior of the world is definitely a good thing.

So I’m gonna listen to Christmas music on the radio (in Spanish and English) whether the music is about His birth, or about a snowman, reindeer or a fat elf in a red and white suit. I’m gonna decorate my Christmas tree which I cut down myself. I’m gonna finally find some time to decorate the outside of my house before my neighbors come at me with torches and pitchforks (ya gotta see my street, it’s like the Griswold Family Christmas out there), I’m gonna make and drink some Coquito, eat Pasteles, Pernil and pie. I’m gonna figure out a way to cook that turkey-zilla a friend of mine slaughtered and gave me (the carcass takes up my entire freezer and it won’t fit in any conventional roasting pan).

Most of all, I’m gonna celebrate the gift of love and eternal life granted to me by the sacrifice of blood by Jesus Christ of Nazareth, the Lamb of God and the Light of the World. I’m gonna celebrate that it is only through His Grace that I am saved as I cannot earn it by acts or good intentions. I’m going to wish His blessings upon my friends, acquaintances and loved ones. I’m going to do this via the very simple words, Merry Christmas.


Obama’s “chickens coming home to roost”

The Obama-ites are frenziedly trying to damage control yet another bad association the Senator had in his murky past.


We knew very little about this charismatic, idolized young “agent of change” a year or two ago and the MSM would have liked to have kept it that way.  Not like it matters with his acolytes.  Being Liberals, they’re more concerned with how he makes them “feeeeeel” and don’t want to be bothered with facts.  Like Chris Matthews “chill running up his legs” when Obama speaks.  I’m not even touching the complete gay nature of that comment.  I’ll just focus on the fact that it is coming from a supposed “journalist”.  I’ve blogged about that idiot in the past.  But here’s further proof of his man crush on the young Senator.


I don’t hold people to the follies of their youth.  I know I have my fair share, but I’m not running for President of this great nation; and yes, I hold that office and whoever occupies it to a slightly higher standard. But we’re not talking about a naïve, obsolete and isolated association with a questionable character.  We’re now talking about a pattern of association with some of the NOTORIOUSLY worst anti-American, racist, anarchist, socialist, leftist people in the country. 


All he offers as a defense is either “I didn’t know…” or “that’s irrelevant…” or “I didn’t know…” (I listed it twice to make the point).  Well, Senator, if you’re gonna expect to hold the reigns of our national defense and security you should make it a point to know who you associate with and you cant think I’m obtuse enough to think that your associations, close associations despite what you say, are irrelevant.  I for one hold you to them. 


A word about a great majority of the blacks in this country.  I’ve already stated my position on racism and race in general, so here goes an objective opinion based on observation. The OJ Simpson trial taught me droves about the views of a HUGE majority of them.  Events like the LA Riots, Hurricane Katrina, the Jenna Six, the Duke Lacrosse and Don Imus fiascos don’t make the community look any better. The huge numbers the Senator is getting everywhere he goes also defines their agenda.  I don’t shy away from stating the obvious.  It’s not that sinister really.  If you’re a black Democrat, both your candidates have the same agenda/philosophy, so given the choice, you identify with and vote for the black candidate.  What’s bothersome is that they vote for him BECAUSE he’s black.  Can’t sugar coat that. 


Of course the over riding reason is that he’s a liberal since Alan Keyes and Condoleeza Rice would not register on their list of possibilities.  Not that I blame them, they’re only following the cues of their leadership.  Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson et al.  What’s insulting to them, or at least should be, is the condescension.  What’s worrisome to me, is the inherent racism.  Something that the other side is constantly being labeled with.  So again the contradiction still being propagated by things like Jet magazine, BET (who ironically doesn’t like Obama), and all the other exclusive Black organizations in this country (not to mention Hispanic).  It’s okay for the black goose, but not for the white gander.




“What kind of name is Yossarian?” March 25, 2008

I’ve been meaning to blog about race for quite some time.  I’ve touched on the subject briefly on a couple of old blogs, but I’ve been meaning to cover it more in depth for a while now.  I’ve never directly blogged about the issue (save for one on my physical similarity to Arabs).  I haven’t done it for two reasons.  One, every time I began to write on the subject it became as long as my four part series on how to survive a mass shooting.  Also, to be honest, I was holding off because I intended to do some research and write an article I was going to submit for paid publication. My memories of the effort I expended getting my Black Belt magazine article published for the payout I received has discouraged me from that avenue. 


Then John Hawkins’ wrote a column that inspired me to finally put down my thoughts on the subject. 


Click here for John Hawkins article


Kick back boys and girls, this one may get rather long, but I believe it’s topical.


I’m uniquely qualified to talk about the subject.  That doesn’t make any one else unqualified to discuss it as we all can draw on our personal experiences.  The problem is the injection of filters.  Admittedly I have my own, but my experience is a unique one.  Ironically and in many ways it is very similar to Senator Obama’s, although I derived something very different from mine. 


Ethnically speaking, I’m just as much a mongrel as anyone in the US, or the entire planet.  My father’s heritage is Scott Irish (with others mixed in as well).  He was born and raised in Michigan.  My mother is Puerto Rican (which is of itself a mixed ethnic group).  She was raised on the island.  I spent some time looking into my ancestry and was surprised by what I discovered, as I’m sure most people would be if they took the time.  For example, the Hubble Family Society says that every single Hubble in the US (regardless of whether you spell it Hubble, Hubbell or Hubel) all come from the same descendant.  This means that I may be related to Edwin Hubble the astronomer.  I find this staggering! Particularly since I haven’t received a single residual from whatever money’s been made off that telescope.  I’m still looking into it.  Plus I’m partly Canadian and I have an actual clan tartan.The Mcintaugh clan.


I was raised partly in the US, Puerto Rico and Europe from birth to age six.  Then we settled in Puerto Rico when I was seven until I joined the Navy at age seventeen.  The amalgam of my parental cultural heritage and my upbringing has made me an enigma to some people who (human nature being what it is), try to put me into some comfortable shelf in order to define “what” I am.  I don’t blame them.  I confuse myself sometimes. 


My unique perspective stems from how people who come in contact with me treat me.  For example, while being raised on the island, because of my last name and the fact that we spent the first few years of our lives off the island, most of the islanders referred to my siblings and I as “Los hermanos gringos”. 


You would think calling me a gringo is funny, considering my appearance, but Puerto Rican’s are a bit unique when it comes to physical appearance.  In PR, they don’t separate themselves by color into different ethnic groups.  Color is mostly a descriptive.  You’re either a blonde haired, blue eyed Rican or a black as night Rican.  Either way you’re Puerto Rican.  We long ago stopped raising eyebrows at couples who were distinctly and physically different in color.  In fact, the supposed “classic” Rican is defined as a combination of Spaniard, African and Taino (Arawac) Indian.  I believe this is historically inaccurate and there are many more.  In my own family on the island there’s even a direct French ancestor.  Then there’s the fact that Puerto Rico has been a US Commonwealth for over a hundred years.  There were plenty of horny gringos at the beginning of the last century planting their seeds all over the island. But I’m digressing.


By the same token, outsiders are defined as such regardless of skin color.  I wasn’t treated poorly as a “gringo” on the island.  In fact, after a brief introductory period when I’d infrequently get into a fight with some wannabe comedian for mangling my last name and using it to make fun of me, I fit right in.  The fact that I was a “gringo” became one of those things they’d remember only occasionally (usually when my last name came up again).  I’ve heard at least ten phonetic pronunciations of Hubble.  The first day of school always made me cringe.  I’m sure anyone with an odd surname can relate.  However, the anomaly of being slightly different always gave me the perspective of an outsider looking in.  It bothered me sometimes and sometimes I used it to my advantage.  The advantages usually outweighed the problems it created.


Then, when I joined the Navy and came back to the continent I was called “the Puerto Rican guy”.  Physically that fit, but I was actually born in Seattle Washington.  How funny is that?  Some people thought I was from New York.  I had not spent a day in New York, but apparently I had a New York accent.  This is because where I was raised on the island most people spoke English like either Desi Arnaz or Tony Soprano.  I  adopted the Tony Soprano inflection, but believe you me, I have many relatives on the island who talk just like Desi.  The point being that now I was being put into another slot that “differentiated” me. 


When I reported to my first ship, the Puerto Ricans and other Latinos expected me to immediately hang with them in their Latino cliques.  For a brief period I actually welcomed this bonding, until I figured out that none of them actually shared my “heritage”.  Some of the Ricans from NY (we call them Niuyoricans on the island) didn’t even speak a lick of Spanish.  They were very proud to call themselves Puerto Rican, but they had no clue about their ancestral heritage from the island.  They in fact put me in yet another sub-group since I was from the island itself.  They called me Jibaro, which to them meant I was “fresh off the boat”.  They didn’t even know the origin of that particular moniker (it was a term used by a Spanish author by the name of Miguel Alonso in a book by the same name a about three hundred years ago).  I had absolutely nothing in common with any other Latino group. 


Ironically, I got along very well with a guy whose family came from Cuba.  He was a blonde haired blue eyed guy named Rodriguez.  He spoke better Spanish than most of the Ricans on the ship.  We often joked that we should swap last names because of our incongruous physical features.  This even led me to briefly giving some thought to legally changing my last name to my mother’s (Torres). 


My very first experience with racism came from a Latino guy on that very ship.  He was a Chicano (this was a moniker he gave himself) from East LA.  I had befriended a guy named Mike Melko.  He actually wound up being the best man at my first wedding.  We were all in the Deck division of the ship.  The Latinos had a clique of about six guys in the division.  Their Latin cultural heritage was as diverse as any other.  When I began hanging out with Mike, the Chicano approached me and asked me why I was hanging out with that “guero”.  His tone was that of a cross parent addressing a wayward child.  He was about six or seven years older than I was so I guess he thought he was entitled.  His problem became two-fold.  One, I was very resistant to authority in my teen years.  Two, I didn’t take kindly to people telling me what to do, regardless of age.  The subsequent exchange sealed my fate with that particular Latino clique.  Now I was a gringo again.


I discovered something very quickly on that first ship.  First of all, I figured out that being Latino did not immediately qualify someone to be a friend of mine.  Let’s face it, there are assholes everywhere.  There are plenty of assholes on the island I wouldn’t give a minute of my time to and that applied universally.  The Latino guys who became good friends of mine did so in spite of their ethnicity.  One of them a Niuyorican who spent the latter part of his teen years on the island and another a Tejano from Kerville Texas. 


So if being Latino did not immediately qualify someone for my friendship, then it certainly didn’t qualify you for my vote, my patronage or my support.  In other words, I learned to deal with people on their merits.  Thankfully, at a very young age. 


I’ve only been called a Spic two times to my face in my life.  In only one occasion was it done in anger (some guys don’t react very well when the women they have designs on opt for a better option).  I’ve only met one person who I’d call a true racist.  Ironically he was one of the best Chief’s I served under in the Navy and even he never held me back. 


The various other non-insulting things I’ve been called (Gringo, Jibaro, Puerto Rican, Boricua) were names other people gave me (I’ve also been called Arabic, Italian, Greek and on one strange occasion, Philipino). 


Here’s the thing; I have never been denied a single opportunity because of my ethnicity and skin color.  Even if it had been done, unbeknownst to me, my ethnicity and skin color would be the last thing I’d use as an excuse.  For one thing they’re factors out of my control and I’m very big on controlling my fate and destiny.  For another, once you go down the victimhood road you might as well go down it with your pants around your ankles. 


What is my point?  That assholes come in all colors?  That ignorance is just as universal? That there is no pure race, therefore, there should be no racism? 


To be perfectly honest, I really don’t give the subject much thought anymore.  Or I at least don’t let the militants, extremists and opportunists bother me as much anymore. I think that people who make excuses for themselves will use the most convenient of excuses and people who hate will find a reason to hate no matter what color you are.  People’s perceptions are their realities and you can’t shake them from their trees if they were on fire.


What makes me ultimately comfortable is the fact that most people are just like me.  Reasonable and rational.  We take people at their merits and based on how they treat us.  We’re proud of our uniqueness, but don’t wear our ethnicity on our sleeves.  And thankfully, regardless of our individual colors and ethnic backgrounds, we are still in the majority.  We just don’t make as much noise.


History’s idiots

The saying goes, “Those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it.”  General David Petraeus, an American hero and, as evidence shows, a brutally honest battle commander has once again been ignored and trivialized by the power hungry who are advocating surrender. Yes SURRENDER. They’re just calling it different things I’m clearly not “nuanced” or “sophisticated” enough to understand.  Me being a war monger and all. Yes I’ve been called that on at least two Multiply pages.  It doesn’t insult me and I’m in good company so go ahead.  Beats being a peacenik. 


I’m not going to get into the tired argument about whether it was a good idea to invade Iraq.  My position on that is clear, educated and based on first hand exposure and experience.  Besides, that kind of second guessing is moot at this point in time.  What is relevant is that we are there now and things are clearly improving.  Yet, the Dems want to once again snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.  The repercussions of our abandoning Iraq the way Clinton, Obama and Co. are outlining can’t even be fathomed by most of the peaceniks, and may even be a little hazy for some of the war’s lukewarm supporters.


 Allow me to provide a historical perspective.  For a while it was fashionable to make comparisons between Iraq and Vietnam.  I haven’t seen much of that lately, and it’s possible that they figured out what I’ve known.  First, most of the comparisons were inaccurate and the ones that applied went against their arguments and talking points.  Here’s what I mean.  Our abandoning Vietnam the way we did by caving to the Peaceniks, the Media and the liberals caterwauling directly resulted in the murder of millions of Vietnamese and Cambodians.  This in the face of the liberal elites saying the slaughter would never happen and that the best thing for Cambodians and Vietnamese was for us to just leave.  Some names you may recognize.  Like John Kerry.  I’ll post a link below.  In fact, here’s something Senator Chris Dodd (then a US Rep) said back in 1975:


“The greatest gift our country can give to the Cambodian people is not guns but peace. And the best way to accomplish that goal is by ending military aid now.” -U.S. Rep. (now Sen.) Chris Dodd of Connecticut, March 12, 1975.


So we listened and the result was a massacre that was aptly named “The Killing Fields”. 


So what you say?  Well, it also resulted in a decade of hangdog shame, self-loathing and loss of national pride that was only eventually reversed when a Presidential candidate unabashedly reminded us that we were the “shining city on a hill”.  Want to know what Chris is saying now?  Here’s an example:


“Q [to Dodd]: Should the US set a firm deadline for the withdrawal of US troops from Iraq?


DODD: I believe we should. I didn’t come to that decision a long time ago. It’s been an evolving situation here. I think most would agree today that we’re more isolated today, our moral standing in the world has suffered terribly over the last number of years as a result of our involvement in Iraq. We’re feeling less secure, more vulnerable today. My view is there’s a greater likelihood that the Iraqis, if they understand that this is not an open-ended process here, there’s a beginning time and an end time for our military involvement here, and that we’re willing to help train troops and help on counter-terrorism, but that come the first of April next year, our military participation is over with.”


Then there’s Senator John Kerry.  This pompous ass needs his own category.  He’s irony incarnate.  Here’s what he said on the Senate Floor on November 9, 1997 [Congressional Record, p. S12256]:


“We must recognize that there is no indication that Saddam Hussein has any intention of relenting. So we have an obligation of enormous consequence, an obligation to guarantee that Saddam Hussein cannot ignore the United Nations. He cannot be permitted to go unobserved and unimpeded toward his horrific objective of amassing a stockpile of weapons of mass destruction. This is not a matter about which there should be any debate whatsoever in the Security Council, or, certainly, in this Nation. If he remains obdurate, I believe that the United Nations must take, and should authorize immediately, whatever steps are necessary to force him to relent–and that the United States should support and participate in those steps.


We must not presume that these conclusions automatically will be accepted by every one of our allies, some of which have different interests both in the region and elsewhere, or will be of the same degree of concern to them that they are to the U.S. But it is my belief that we have the ability to persuade them of how serious this is and that the U.N. must not be diverted or bullied.”


He recently stated this about Al Qaeda in Iraq:


“Truth-be-told, it is our overwhelming footprint that energizes Al Qaeda in Iraq.  If we reduce our footprint — as the Iraq Study Group and General Jones have recommended, I believe the Iraqis themselves, will drive Al Qaeda from Iraq, with a leaner U.S. military and special forces there to finish the job.”


I’m wondering what exactly he meant back in 1997 and what exactly he intended to do about Saddam Hussein?  Clearly nothing. 


Way back in 1971 in a debate between John Kerry and John Oneill on the Dick Cavett show John Kerry made the ridiculous assertion that reports of an ensuing massacre if we abandoned Vietnam were exaggerated.  Well, we all know how that turned out.  You can read the transcript or watch the entire debate here:


It’s pretty extensive but well worth watching.  You might even get chills and an odd sense of déjà vu when analyzing today’s armchair military geniuses and their “predictions”.  I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not re-live the decade of the 70’s, politically speaking.

Lessons from our troops, January 3, 2007

TigerThis recent posting from Michael Totten got me to thinking about some of the lessons we can learn from our Masterful Marines.  Mr. Totten’s another independent imbedded journalist in Iraq.


Before I get to the “lesson”, let me say I enjoy these guys’ insights because their independent status gives them the leeway to be brutally honest and non-agenda driven.  Pat Dollard and Michael Yon are also good sites to have bookmarked for this purpose.  Other than the personal friends I have in theater, I count on these reporters’ postings for good and factual on the ground news.


Again, I was linked to Mr. Totten’s site by’s “Latest News” link. They continue to be the only source for these reports in the major news organizations.  The other networks/newspapers continue to ignore these and for good reason (in their editorial bent minds).  They invariably report GOOD news.  Not intentionally and they’re all clear that much work needs to be done and the situation is dynamic, but they have a clear understanding of the importance of this work and why it MUST be done.  They don’t get into any of the “why are we here?” and “President Bush is evil” chants.  Not to mention the fact that they are respectful and honest about our forces, yes our Masterful Forces’ efforts.


Now to the lesson.


This latest posting focuses on the issue of complacency and how our Marines are countering this mindset.  I addressed this issue on another blog in our own lives within the “relative safety” of our mainstream USA streets.  Mr. Totten was having difficulty with this concept, but he seemed to get the point.  Admittedly it’s a fine line to walk, the difference between situational awareness and rampant paranoia.  I like the joke axiom “just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean you bastards AREN’T out to get me”, because it’s just funny.  But the opposite is also true (not being paranoid doesn’t mean you bastards AREN’T out to get me). 


Mr. Totten pointed it out when, looking at an Iraqi, who in his mind clearly presented no danger, he imagined smashing the man’s face in.  Some may be appalled at this but it is an exercise I engage in regularly throughout the day.  As people walk up to me I switch off between two imaginary scenarios.  One, what would I do if this person (regardless of their physical appearance) all of a sudden upped and surprise attacked me (armed, unarmed etc.).  I mentally prepare a counter for each of these scenarios.  I focus on quick and deadly, mostly gross motor movements. 


Second, I also imagine how I would attack them if I wanted to all of a sudden surprise blitz them.  In a million years I would not do this for real, but it gives me an insight into the thought process of an attacker.  There are countless scenarios that I alternate in both exercises (quick and deadly, defensive and non-lethal, immobilize, one-two-three strikes etc.). 


One of the major benefits of this type of mental training is that you create a mindset of situational awareness that continues to churn in the background of your mind even when you’re not engaging in the exercise. 


How is this useful? 


Surprisingly, a MAJOR benefit is subtle and intangible, but very effective.  It counters prey behavior.  In other words, your heightened state of relaxed alertness delivers an unspoken message to the attacker (predator) that you are NOT easy prey.  They don’t know why, but they can just sense it.  Here’s the beauty of it.  The message in most cases is effective REGARDLESS of your physical appearance and/or training.  Remember, you only have to physically defend yourself when your actual personal security plan has failed.  You want to avoid that because there are some evil sons of bitches out there.  Ironically, even the toughest of them are inherently cowardly and will only target easy prey.


Secondly, should you have to physically defend yourself you will leap into action almost immediately with canned physical techniques that are subconsciously driven..  We all have some of these that are already neuro-muscularly innate.  Throwing your hands up, crouching your head, closing your eyes etc.  The first few seconds of an attack are CRITICAL and are almost always wasted by the shocked reaction of people who first go into a state of denial (often voiced aloud).  “I can’t believe this is happening to me!”  Remember, the attacker has had the benefit of planning and victim selection. They are also already highly adrenalized into action.  You’re playing catch-up.  The above exercise will expedite this paradigm shift.


Do not misunderstand me here.  I’m not advocating a state of paranoia about your fellow man.  What I advocate is preparedness, physical and mental, but the mental state is the key to avoidance.  It’s amazing to me when I hear my single, slightly older, female students talk about the myriad of emotional defensive mechanisms they have in place when they go out on a date for the first time with someone.  They have these because they’ve been burned before and they carry them into the first few dates.  Yet when I talk to them about the above exercise they express shock and dismay that they should have to live like that.  Ironic.  The mental state I’m talking about here is actually quite a liberating and empowered one.  Particularly if you’re not innately security minded.


Of course to me the exercise is also a bit fun.  Sue me.  My juvenile proclivities aside, as Joe Pesci’s character says in My Cousin Vinny, although I could probably use a good ass whuppin, I’m not volunteering for one anytime soon.  For more of this type of information, go to my “Surviving a mass shooting” blog. It’s in 4 parts but I’m pretty proud of that post.

Jack Nicholson, “What I’ve Learned”, December 28, 2007

Esquire magazine, Jack Nicholson

Photo by Esquire Magazine 

I’ve been a fan of Jack Nicholson’s movies for years.  Most of the best movies I’ve seen have featured him as a lead or a supporting actor.  However, I’m not one of those people who idealizes entertainers and I know little of Jack’s personal life/likes other than what stares at you from the checkout counters of supermarkets.  I just don’t care about their personal lives or philosophies.  I simply want to be entertained.  I found the below opinions by Jack in an article in Esquire magazine entitled “What I’ve learned.”  It is, of itself, very entertaining and a glimpse into a character, who although is diametrically opposed to what I believe, I was pleasantly surprised to find some kinship with the man.  Maybe it’s my penchant for admiring people who are genuine, agree with them or not.  I just can’t abide by people who’re full of shit.  Anyways, I’ve pasted the article here but you can read it from the source at: 

“They’re prescription. That’s why I wear them. A long time ago, the Middle American in me may have thought it was a bit affected maybe. But the light is very strong in southern California. And once you’ve experienced negative territory in public life, you begin to accept the notion of shields. I am a person who is trained to look other people in the eye. But I can’t look into the eyes of everyone who wants to look into mine; I can’t emotionally cope with that kind of volume. Sunglasses are part of my armor. 

I hate advice unless I’m giving it.  

I hate giving advice, because people won’t take it. 

I love discourse. I’m dying to have my mind changed. I’m probably the only liberal who read Treason, by Ann Coulter. I want to know, you understand? I like listening to everybody. This to me is the elixir of life. 

I don’t think many people have a very good understanding of leisure and the importance it plays in our lives. People today are too competitive about leisure, as if it needs to have some other value in order to be able to fit into our puritanical view of the world. But if you’re playing golf to get a loan, it ain’t golf, you know what I mean? 

I was particularly proud of my performance as the Joker. I considered it a piece of pop art. 

The camera photographs what’s there. 

Right now, I’m upset because I was supposed to have the weekend to play golf. I just flnished, like, two straight years of work. I thought I’d take some time for myself. I flgured that this weekend I’d be able to get out there on the golf course. And then, boom! There goes my hamstring. And here’s the rub: Rather than just give myself a break and say, “Okay, you have every excuse in the world to lay on your ass this weekend and watch the ball games,” I have to be a Calvinist. I have to complain: “Son of a bitch! I’m here. I’m inside. When’s the hammie gonna get better? I’ve already tested it too early and hurt it again. How long is it gonna take to heal? Have I already ruined the next two weeks?” 

After September 11, I held my tongue. All of the public positions had been taken — for, against, good, evil. I had nothing more to add. So I thought, Bring in the clowns, you know what I mean? That’s why I’ve done a coupla years’ worth of comedies. 

I’m pretty well ashamed of this, but I only read the sports pages. 

The fuel for the sports fan is the ability to have private theories. I’ve always thought basketball was the best sport, although it wasn’t the sport I was best at. It was just the most fun to watch. I always said, “Batman and basketball. Night games and night comics.” Even as a kid it appealed to me. The basketball players were out at night. They had great overcoats. There was this certain nighttime juvenile-delinquent thing about it that got your blood going.  

I’m the age where we didn’t have television as kids. So when I saw my nieces and nephews watching Howdy Doody, Kukla, Fran and Ollie, and so forth, I thought the world had gone mad.  

If you think about those old shows, they all had puppets. And somehow I think, symbolically speaking, that has contributed to a generational lack of ability to accept personal responsibility. It’s why the baby boomers are such conspiracy theorists and I’m not. It’s why everybody thinks we went to Iraq to get the oil and I don’t. I see that as a minor, symbolic generational difference that all adds up to mass movements. People are so frustrated. They don’t want to take responsibility for their failures. There’s always an excuse, you know? It’s always, “I’m this and that’s why” or “This happened to me and that’s why.” Everyone has the impulse to point their fingers elsewhere. They point at the puppet: He did it! Not me!  

I always hesitate to say things like this in interviews because they tend to come back to haunt you, but if I were an Arab-American, I would insist on being profiled. This is not the time for civil rights. There are larger issues for Americans. 

Lately, I’ve been de-emphasizing what actors think of as character work. The limps and the lisps, the accents — I don’t want to be bothered. You gotta make it come from the inside. It’s all about who you are. That’s all you can really contribute. I feel autobiographical about whatever I do.

 I was talking to Sean Penn on the phone today. I told him it was interesting that they managed to leave me off this long list of Method actors they’d published in some article. I told him, “I’m still fooling them!” I consider it an accomplishment. Because there’s probably no one who understands Method acting better academically than I do, or actually uses it more in his work. But it’s funny — nobody really sees that. It’s perception versus reality, I suppose. 

Believe it or not, I supported Richard Nixon on the issue of presidential privilege. How could anyone conceive of being the president of the United States and think that every single thing that you say or do can become a part of the public record? It just seems so stupid to me. A man needs a private life. With no ability to have a private life, one thing leads to another, and before you know it we have Bill and Monica. We need to get real about things. Humans are humans. Why should we expect more? 

My motto is: more good times. 

I think I’ve done okay. I take responsibility for my successes as well as my failures. But when I look at my professional mistakes, I’m always left with the feeling that maybe I should have done more. These are my private musings. I’m such a perfectionist. I always feel overpraised or whatever. In the abstract, I know I’m a good person, a good professional. But it’s nice to be noticed a little bit, ain’t it? 

I’m certainly not as tough as people think. I’m not a fighter and so forth. I’d just as soon go home.  

Children give your life a resonance that it can’t have without them. 

I certainly knew my father. He just didn’t happen to be my biological father. 

That is correct: I didn’t know that my sister was really my mother until I was thirty-seven years old. But life has taught me that there have been a lot of things that I didn’t know. If I start giving that more weight because of the half-digested view of an analytical life, it’s working against you, you know what I mean? Accentuate the positive, that’s what I say. It’s a trick, but it works. 

Here’s another old actor saying: It’s very easy to go down, so always live up. Incline yourself upward. 

I’d prefer if people had no impressions of me. As a kid, I had to tell my own family, “Please, just don’t talk about me!” Because they always got it wrong. Always. I just didn’t want them to tell anyone anything about me. God knew, they had a great opinion and they loved me and meant well, but it was like, Please, you don’t have this right. You know what I mean?

 Men dominate because of physicality, and thus they have mercy where women do not. 

When it’s over for a woman, it’s over. You’re not getting an appeal. 

There’s a tacit agreement in the nation today that the white male is the only legitimate target for any and all satire, criticism, and so forth. And we pretty much just accept it. 

A lot of people in the middle of their lives have a secret yearning for more romance. 

I don’t know if this is a true statistic, but I heard somewhere that there are three times as many single women over forty as single men. That’s what we got from the women’s movement. The chickens have come home to roost. 

I respect the social graces enormously. How to pass the food. Don’t yell from one room to another. Don’t go through a closed door without a knock. Open the doors for the ladies. All these millions of simple household behaviors make for a better life. We can’t live in constant rebellion against our parents — it’s just silly. I’m very well mannered. It’s not an abstract thing. It’s a shared language of expectations. 

If I had to list the most prominent highlights in my life over the last decade or more, the things I’d write would pretty much involve moments with my children. You know how it goes: They write an essay or a poem and your heart is in your throat. They give such stunning love. Lorraine won her soccer tournament. Ray is becoming a big guy. Jennifer has her own boutique; it’s called Pearl. She’s also designing clothes. I have to tell you, I did more glad-handing and arm twisting for Jennifer’s fashion show than I’ve ever done for any picture of my own. That’s what you’re driven to do when you have kids. 

I have to keep myself in check when I go to the kids’ sports events. I sit waaay in the back. I make sure I don’t do too much cheering, you know what I mean? I’m still not quite adjusted to this modern school of thought: Oh, it doesn’t matter who wins. I’m not all the way there yet, but I accept it from the back row. 

I think the Greeks invented sports as an antidote to philosophy. In sports there are absolute rules. It’s not, What about this? What about that? Either you’re safe or you’re out. It’s ten yards or it’s not. It’s in the hoop or out of the hoop. It’s certain. 

I’ve grown out of talking like I know something when I don’t. I’m a pretty liberal Democrat, but I’m not after Bush the way all the rest of them are. I was alive in World War II. We turned off all the lights, as if people might come running up the beach. In that climate, what else were you going to do? We didn’t have a choice then. And we don’t really have one now. I don’t know what else Bush can do. We just have to see how it goes. 

Why can’t somebody use modern intelligence and relate it to traffic? 

What would it be like to fuck Britney Spears? I can answer that question: monumental. Life altering! 

My daughter is thirteen. Lately, all I’ve been thinking about is, Would you please get a pair of pants that’s not, you know, down below your navel? What do I do well as a father? I’m there all the time. I give unconditional love. And I have a lot of skills in terms of getting them to express themselves. I’m good with handy hints — if they can tell me what their problem is — ’cause I’ve had a lot of problems in life myself. I make an effort to expose them to things. I want them to have a deep, inner feeling that it’s all right to be happy, that you don’t have to be constantly manufacturing problems that you don’t really have.  

A lot of my life lessons were learned as a child gambler on the boardwalk. 

I resist all established beliefs. My religion basically is to be immediate, to live in the now. It’s an old cliche, I know, but it’s mine. 

I envy people of faith. I’m incapable of believing in anything supernatural. So far, at least. Not that I wouldn’t like to. I mean, I want to believe. I do pray. I pray to something…up there. I have a God sense. It’s not religious so much as superstitious. It’s part of being human, I guess. 

Do unto others: How much deeper into religion do we really need to go? 

I would never want to vilify somebody who considered abortion murder. I was an illegitimate child myself. I may not have existed today. 

Liberalism is the right to question without being called a heretic. That’s what America did for the world. 

There are major influences on us that people are not aware of. There are big lies that nobody’s willing to discuss. 

A question you always ask in acting is, Where were you going if this scene didn’t interrupt the movements of the character? 

For a long time, I was afraid to be alone. I had to learn how to be alone. And there are still times when I think, Uh-oh! I gotta talk to somebody here or I’m gonna go crazy! But I like to be alone. Now I do. I really do. There’s a big luxury in solitude.

A lot of times, you gotta be there even if you don’t wanna be. 

I was influenced in golf by a plaque I read in Kyoto, Japan. It’s on a wall of one of the temples. It tells about this Zen archery tournament that had been held there. It’s this long colonnade. At the end is a four-inch square. The participants would sit in a cross-legged position, and they’d have to shoot the arrows all the way without hitting the wall. And the world record in the event was something like 180 straight arrows. Knowing sports in the poetic way that I do, this impressed me. So I started thinking of golf as Zen archery.

 I don’t play golf competitively. I tell everybody that I cheat so they won’t gamble with me. That’s why you can’t watch football. Everybody’s gambling. They don’t want to watch the game; they watch the spread.  

I get peevish, sure. Nobody yells or screams any more than I do. But the toughest days are when I get home and realize, Holy shit! They were right! Oy, I’m an asshole! And this happens at least once or twice every picture, where you’re just — you’re just so sure, you’re such a big-time guy, you know what I mean? And then you get home and you have that moment of holy shit. The pro game of acting is very difficult. You go into that editing room and there is empirical evidence of what you’ve done. And no matter how good they say you are, well over half of what you do is pure shit. You can be totally self-annihilating about it if you want. 

I love working with women directors. They don’t mind making you cute. 

I’m very fortunate in the sense that outside of cohabitating relationships and so forth, I’ve always got on just as well with women. 

I always ask myself a theoretical question: If I had started out today, would I have wound up doing porn pictures to make a living? 

The less people know about me, the easier my job is. 

Always try in interviews to avoid the cliches about the problems of public life. 

Always try to avoid interviews.” 

Kangaroo Farts and Other Scientific Breakthroughs, Dec 6, 2007

KangaroofartsIt appears that the Global Warming hysteria has gone from the sublime to the ridiculous. There have been many examples of this, but the following report just took the freaking top prize!,2933,315586,00.html 

Kangaroo farts?????? Kangaroo farts????? (I didn’t need to repeat it, it’s just funny!) 

Kangaroo farts are gonna save the planet??? I don’t know who these Australian “scientists” are (or if they’re on Al Gore’s payroll), but it seems to me they could be working on something with just a little more substance. Or at least something they can tell their kids they do when asked to come to their schools on career day. 

Child: Daddy what do you do for a living?

Australian Scientist: Why I’m studying how Kangaroo farts will save the planet!

Child (laughing hysterically); No seriously Daddy. 

Come to think of it, that would be perfect for a kid’s career day! This scientist would be a smash hit!  

I can see it now. “Well God, no worries mate! We have figured out how to save your Masterful Creation and reverse whatever plans you may have. Kangaroo farts!” (See? Told ya it was funny). 

I don’t know what these scientists look like either but I’m willing to bet they’re the spitting image of Harpo, Chico and Groucho Marx!  

As of this wasn’t bad enough, I watched a video on about experimenting with cats in zero gravity. I ask you, what in the name of kangaroo science could this serve. We’ve been going into space for sixty years now. Did we really need to know how cats would behave in zero gravity? I’m a high school dropout and I could have clued them in. Duh, they float. HELLOOOOO!!!! 

Ahhhh! How far we have come in the field of scientific research. Louis Pasteur, Galileo, Marie Curie et al would be proud!!

Islamo-lunacy Part II


Just when you thought the lunacy had peaked and now this update from the “religion of peace”:

I was actually holding out hope that some reason would prevail and someone in that government would say, “Okay, technically what Ms. Gibbons committed was an offense against our holy prophet, but her complete absence of malice is a circumstance we’ve considered and therefore have decided to simply deport her.”

Hah! Sharia law makes no such accommodations for reason. This is the law that flogs a gang rape victim for getting into a car with an unrelated male.  Now we have THOUSANDS of the populace, armed with clubs and knives, demanding the death penalty for this woman.

I’m still waiting for those feminists and women’s advocacy groups to come forth in Ms. Gibbons defense, but all I hear are crickets chirping. Where are you Sean Penn? Sally Field? Danny Glover? Susan Sarandon? The National Organization for Women? At this point I’d like to hear from the “women’s candidate” (and no I don’t mean John Edwards). C’mon Hillary, make a statement here. Show the cojones you supposedly usurped from Bill.

What? This case not sexy enough for y’all? Or is it that your true yellow stripes are showing? Yeah, I thought so.

How about the “reasonable, moderate” Muslim organizations? CAIR? ADC?

HAH! Fat chance! Know why you won’t hear from them? Because they cannot go against the rules and criticize the leadership. If this were truly an abomination and a misinterpretation of the prophet’s laws they would be the first ones lighting torches. But while they are trying to convince you that they are the “moderate” ones they turn a blind eye and deaf ear to this travesty. I’ll let you in on a secret. They too believe this woman has committed a heinous offense and should be punished severely. They just won’t say it publically lest they show their true colors.

Oh yeah, and we simply don’t understand Islamic orthodoxy. This is why we’re being attacked right? I’m sure the sufferers of BDS can even spin this to lay the blame at the President’s feet, proving that extremism is the true cause of all lunacy, Islamo or Liberalism.

Sigh! Don’t worry, the President and our Masterful Forces will protect you from Islamo-lunacy, as they have for the last six years. Protecting you from liberalism and apathy is harder. It requires a trip to the ballot box and conscious effort on the part of sheeple who would rather tune into Dancing with the Stars or Britney Spears latest foray into self indulged debauchery.

Anthony D. Hubble

Author, Protecting Nahir