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Updated: 2 days 6 hours ago

We Wrestle Not Against Flesh and Blood

Thu, 10/04/2018 - 11:14am

Watching the recent political theater that our ever more divided country serves up as leadership reminds me that the natural man cannot receive the things of God for they’re foolishness to him.  The mockery of the late night political hacks masquerading as comedians or of the not even close to being funny Democrat shills haunting SNL reminds us that weeping may endure for a night but joy comes in the morning.

I wonder if someone came forward and said that Nancy Pelosi sexually abused them when they were a minor but they can’t remember where, or when, how they got there, how they got home, and everyone they said was a witness denied it … do you think the Congressional Ethics Committee would investigate it?  Would the ABCCBSNBCPBSCNNMSNBC Cartel do wall-to-wall panel discussion about the validity of the claims?

As we watch these show trials staged for no other reason than to destroy the reputation and life of a man who the testimony of all who know him say is impeccable don’t lose heart.  What the enemy means for evil God can turn to good.  When we see what appears to be all of the media from New York to Hollywood piling on don’t despair the enemy may come in like a flood but God is well able to lift up a standard just as Moses lifted a serpent in the wilderness.  Look with your spiritual eyes and see the real battle for we don’t wrestle against flesh and blood.  We battle against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.

We’ll never have the strength to stand for what’s right until we hit our knees.  Faith is the answer and prayer is the key.  Forget about the unfairness of it for the fallen world is inherently unfair.  Take your eyes off the here and now and get a view of eternity.  All of this will pass away.  Remember God not only wins in the end He’s won already.  Stop living in the world.  Jesus said we must be born again born from above.  If we confess Him as Lord if we believe God has raised Him from the dead we will be saved.  The moment we do that we enter into His kingdom.  We die to this world and we’re born into the new heaven and the new earth.  And we’ve done all the dying we’ll ever do.  Our body will stop one day but we’ll live for all eternity in Him.

While it may be entertaining and it may make a world of difference here and now all this back and forth between one side and another is merely man re-arranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.  Looking back did it make any difference which side of the deck someone was standing on?  We’re they on the left or the right?  When the ship went down both sides hit the water.

In a hundred years no one will know who we were.  Some descendent may know our name, maybe even where we were born and where we died.  But they won’t know who we are.  In a thousand years no one will even know we were here.  In a hundred thousand years America will have been erased from memory.  But in an eternity from now we who choose to live in Christ will still be praising Him filled with joy and living hope.

The political and social battles of this life may make good TV, they may give us endless hours of animated conversations, and they’ll have an impact on the current course of this fallen world.  But remember they aren’t what they seem.  It isn’t about right versus left.  It’s always about good versus evil, light versus dark, and life versus death.  But never fear Christ is here.  He has won the war and He has told us that “It is finished.”

So accept the victory and stop fighting a battle that’s already been won.

Dr. Owens teaches History, Political Science, and Religion.  He is the Historian of the Future @ http://drrobertowens.com  © 2018 Contact Dr. Owens [email protected]   Follow Dr. Robert Owens on Facebook or Twitter @ Drrobertowens or visit Dr. Owens Amazon Page / Edited by Dr. Rosalie Owens

 

 

The post We Wrestle Not Against Flesh and Blood appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

The Details of the Democrats Evil Plan Exposed

Thu, 10/04/2018 - 11:08am

“It’s not her job to corroborate her story” – Debra Katz, Christine Blasey Ford’s attorney

As we all know things are not always what they seem to be on the surface. Such is the case with Dr. Christine Blasey Ford who at last Thursday’s Senate Judiciary Committee hearing…who in the throws of what amounted to caffeine induced shakes, who with her hair constantly falling in her face, and who with a little girl squeaky voice whose tone she carefully modulated depending on which political side of the committee she was addressing…tried to paint herself as a victim of a 36-year old claimed sexual assault by Judge Brett Kavanaugh when the two were in high school.*

And so in a maliciously orchestrated scenario that was egged-on by the Democrats on the committee…Democrats who never asked her any direct questions per se but who one-by-one straight down the line heralded her supposed “bravery” for coming forward with her story…more like heralding her for coming forward with a lie.

But the thing is that Dr. Christine Blasey Ford was no sexual assault survivor of Brett Kavanaugh or possibly of anyone else…but if anything happened at all it probably was just a different teenage boy trying to get to “first” or “second base” as teenage boys have always done and will continue to do…I mean there was not even any clothing removed. Teenage drunkenness and misconduct has been twisted in Dr. Ford’s own mind into attempted rape.

And this woman whom the Democrats have now anointed as the new spokeswoman and “face” for sexual abuse survivors everywhere put on one hell of a performance as Republicans treated her with kid gloves for fear of being labeled as both sexist and overbearing towards a woman who supposedly had gone through so much inner turmoil in order to keep a deep dark secret inside her until she alone felt it was the right time to come forward and do her “civic duty.”

Bravo…and the Oscar goes to Dr. Christine Blasey Ford for a performance of a lifetime but that’s all it was…a performance…for it’s important to remember that Dr. Ford herself stated that she was eventually able to escape before she was raped or worse but that the experience was very traumatic because she felt like she had “no control and was physically dominated.” That is a very liberal stance as it relates to feelings not to the actual physical act of rape itself which showed that neither she nor the Democrats were really interested in getting to the truth of what happened or didn’t happen on the night in question. But it did give the Democrats a tool by which to manipulate a frail easily swayed individual into doing their bidding.

And manipulate Dr. Ford they did as she became the conduit by which the Democrats were able to both slander and defame a good man and hopefully stop Donald Trump from not only stacking the Supreme Court with conservative justices, but by which they could restart the now thanks to Trump stalled fundamental changing of America that Barack HUSSEIN Obama had set in motion. To read more on that please read my Right Side Patriots partner and friend Craig Andresen’s article The Social Reengineering of Our Justice System.

But first let’s start by looking at an all-important timeline and how that timeline was willfully ignored by the media.

Before Christine Blasey Ford got married in 2002 she says she told her husband about a sexual assault that supposedly happened when she was in high school but never told him who did it or the details of exactly what happened. Then in 2012, just as Barack HUSSEIN Obama began his final term in office, Dr. Ford and her husband went into couples therapy…with some claiming for issues relating to alcoholism…where she tells a therapist who shares her leftist anti-Trump political leanings about being sexuality assaulted at a party by someone she knew in high school, but like with her husband she never mentioned any name.

Flash forward to July 2016 when Donald Trump became the Republican nominee for president. And when he did so, much to the utter chagrin of liberals everywhere, Christine Blasey Ford was amongst those who feared that Trump would turn our country hard to the right by picking only pro-lifers if he was given the chance to nominate future Supreme Court justices. And he rightfully stroked those fears when in September 2016 then candidate Trump released his first list of those he would be considering as possible nominees to the High Court if elected. On that list was Neil Gorsuch…who did become the nominee on January 31, 2017 and who ultimately became the justice who would replace Justice Antonin Scalia who had passed away the year before.

Also on that original first list of possibilities of then candidate Trump was Steven Colloton of Iowa, Allison Eid of Colorado, Raymond Gruender of Missouri, Thomas Hardiman of Pennsylvania, Raymond Kethledge of Michigan, Joan Larsen of Michigan, Thomas Lee of Utah, William Pryor of Alabama, David Stras of Minnesota, Diane Sykes of Wisconsin and Don Willett of Texas.

Judge Brett Michael Kavanaugh, a staunch originalist and constitutionalist then sitting on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit…as you can see was not on then candidate Donald Trump’s original 2016 list of possible SCOTUS nominees but was included on now President Trump’s official November 17, 2017 list after The Heritage Foundation recommend his name be added. And Brett Kavanaugh’s name only appeared on then retiring Justice Anthony Kennedy’s replacement ‘short list’ on July 5, 2018, with his ultimately being announced as the nominee on July 9, 2018.

Now why is this particular timeline so important, because in her interview with the Washington Post, Dr. Christine Blasey Ford stated that she became upset back in September 2016 when she saw Brett Kavanaugh’s name appearing on then candidate Trump’s original list of possible SCOTUS nominees. But how can that be when Brett Kavanaugh’s name was not on now President Trump’s official nominee list until November 17, 2017…a full year after she said she saw it. Meaning if Dr. Ford can lie about something so easily but obviously not looked into, what else is she lying about…how about everything.

“Falsus in uno, falsus in omnibus”…“False in one thing, false in everything.” – common law legal doctrine

Remember, this is the very woman who could not name the exact date when said sexual assault occurred; whose house it was where the supposed assault took place; how she got to and home from said house; and who also admitted that she had been drinking…all that has been twisted by the media, the Democrats, and in Ford’s own mind into attempted rape. And critical to remember is that this woman did not tell anyone the name of who assaulted her until 36 years later when a political opportunity arose for her to help stop Trump’s nominee from being seated on the High Court…a nominee she and her fellow liberals knew would decidedly swing the court to the right for probably decades to come.

And that could not be allowed, and it was at this point that Christine Blasey Ford became but a useful tool to stop Donald Trump and his nominee at any cost. And it all started with a Democrat loyal therapist being able to take a memory of a long ago assault that might or might not have happened and manipulate that memory into a time sensitive weapon to be used against President Trump with an innocent man’s life being thrown to the wolves in a media driven feeding frenzy of Dr. Ford’s and the Democrats doing.

But how did key Democrats accomplish this feat? First let’s remember that Democrats were not happy when Neil Gorsuch made it to the Supreme Court especially since Obama had nominated liberal leaning Merrick Garland after Antonin Scalia’s death. Not happy that Trump was successful in stalling Garland’s Senate confirmation vote until Obama’s term in office ran out with said nomination now legally being cast aside, Democrats see Dr. Ford’s accusation as their last ditch attempt to stall Kavanaugh’s nomination until after the midterms in hopes of their retaking the Senate and then being able to throw out both Kavanaugh’s nomination and any future nominations Trump would make.

As always it’s all about politics…dirty D.C. swamp politics emanating primarily from the left side of the political aisle.

But what exactly would they need to do to now, at the so-called eleventh hour, to stop Brett Kavanaugh’s nomination for it appeared Kavanaugh was poised to get the votes needed to take a seat on the High Court…simply they used the tried and true last minute tactic of fabricating a sex scandal because Democrats know that political sex scandals garner more outage and passion than just about anything else…just ask Billy-Boy Clinton about that.

And so their plan was set into motion…a plan dedicated to stopping Brett Kavanaugh from ever becoming a Supreme Court Justice. But to do so Democrats needed someone to come forward and claim that he had sexually assaulted them with the time frame of when it happened not really mattering, thus leaving the Democrats to start searching through their databases of their supporters and/or financial contributors to see if any had crossed paths with Kavanaugh. And they hit the mark with Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, a registered Democrat, a Hillary supporting pink p****cat hat wearing far left feminist who had also contributed to both the Obama and Hillary campaigns and to the DNC itself. And they also found out in their search that she had been in therapy back in 2012 where she told her therapist that she had been the victim of an unnamed assailant back when she was in high school in Maryland.

Ding, ding, ding…and the bells went off for the Democrats as Trump’s nominee Brett Kavanaugh was also from Maryland, was about the same age as Dr. Ford and who by luck went to a ‘sister’ high school of his, and whose mother had ruled in a foreclosure case involved the Blasey family, which while she ruled in their favor still cost them a great deal of money to settle. And from there it was easy pickings to manipulate and possibly pay off an emotionally unstable woman…emotionally unstable no matter how many degrees she has…to a point where a previously unnamed assailant morphed in her mind into Trump’s Republican nominee to the Supreme Court…one Brett Kavanaugh.

And Dianne Feinstein herself has her hands all over this what amounts to a witch hunt for besides her broken promise to keep Dr. Ford’s infamous letter confidential, it was she who helped Dr. Ford secure her big shot D.C. lawyers. But doesn’t that in itself seem odd as Dr. Ford’s own two brothers are both respected attorney’s in the Washington D.C. area…maybe they know the truth about their sister and were wise enough not to get involved…as maybe they know about her taking part in crackpot feminist and anti-Trump marches…and maybe they know that the rumors going around about their sister having “issues” as far back as childhood are true.

And so the woman who couldn’t even remember also sending the New York Time a copy of the infamous letter that started the witch hunt just three short weeks ago, in reality did not come off at the hearing as someone credible in my eyes contrary to what many conservative talking heads are continuing to say if for no other reason than they’re afraid of ‘outing’ a woman as a liar on national television…especially a woman who claims to be a sexual assault “survivor.”

But the bottom line to me is this…then Christine ‘Chrissy’ Blasey was most definitely not…I repeat not…sexually assaulted by Brett Kavanaugh, and if any boy did assault her back then what happened was not rape but was at best teenage drunkenness and bad behavior. And really, Brett Kavanaugh has already gone through six thorough F.B.I. investigations over the years as he rose up through the ranks of our judicial system…including a critical investigation that allowed him to be privy to America’s nuclear code…and now he must go through a seventh all because a lying woman with an agenda has been manipulated to do the Democrats bidding.

If Dr. Christine Blasey Ford is a victim of anything, she’s a victim of her own twisted delusions and of being manipulated into becoming “the face” of a misplaced political agenda that will not serve her, our county, or true victims of real sexual assault well.

And let’s not forget the yet to be mentioned future victims of Dr. Ford’s lie and the Democrats witch hunt…our husbands, fathers, brothers, nephews, and sons as any woman or girl can now make up a story that can neither be proved or disproved all in an attempt to completely ruin those above stated lives. And while these misguided Democrat sorts thinks this empowers women, all it does is place guilt on the innocent before anything even happens.

But most importantly of all right now, let it be known that Judge Brett Kavanaugh is no sexual predator and never was and to state otherwise is to dismiss the notion that the F.B.I. actually did its job when investigating him the first six times they did so. The only true victim here is the good judge whose career and reputation has been irrevocably harmed and his family forever hurt by the truly evil sorts who comprise today’s Democrat party. Judge Brett Kavanaugh deserves his seat on the Supreme Court…it’s now up to the Republicans to make sure he gets that seat for if they don’t the midterm results just might not be to their or our liking.
_________________________________________

*Prosecutor Rachel Mitchell’s all-important MEMO regarding the Kavanaugh/Ford hearing…a must read.

Copyright @ 2018 Diane Sori / The Patriot Factor / All Rights Reserved.

https://thepatriotfactor.blogspot.com/2018/10/op-ed-details-of-democrats-evil-plan.html

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For more political commentary please visit my RIGHT SIDE PATRIOTS partner Craig Andresen’s blog The National Patriot to read his latest article The Social Reengineering of Our Justice System.

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RIGHT SIDE PATRIOTS…LIVE!

Today, Tuesday, October 2nd from 7 to 9pm EST on American Political RadioRIGHT SIDE PATRIOTS Craig Andresen and Diane Sori discuss ‘The Details of the Democrats Evil Plan Exposed;’ ‘The Social Reengineering of Our Justice System;’ and important news of the day.

Hope you can tune in at: http://listen.samcloud.com/w/73891/American-Political-Radio#history
…or on Tune-In at: https://tunein.com/radio/American-Political-Radio-s273246/

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You People!

Wed, 10/03/2018 - 8:32pm

You People! The American public, this week, got a good, up close and personal look at the United States Senate. In accordance I am going to address You People in the Senate. I am using that term because it’s politically incorrect, racist, and downright insulting to the new royalty You People have placed above, and beyond the huddled masses, yearning to make a living.

We look, and hope for bipartisan cooperation in our government that will enact legislation that will benefit as many Americans as humanly possible. We are a Republic, not a democracy. That means we elect representatives that we trust will convey our desires to Washington. Since it is physically impossible to squeeze three hundred million of us into the Senate Chamber, we pick one hundred of you to be our voice. To bring it down to a manageable number. You People have done that job well. You boiled it down to the interests of one hundred people. YOU People!

I refuse to elaborate on last weeks hearing, I use that word loosely. It wasn’t a hearing, it was a feeding frenzy. What I will say is that You People had the battle lines drawn before the first contestant even raised his/her right hand. When the games began, all protocol was tossed to the wayside. Interruption was the order of the day. If it had been a court of law most of you would have been held in contempt. If it had been Judge Roy Bean’s Court you would have been hung!

What ensued was a oxymoron. With all the politely worded apologies, the character, and integrity of both witnesses was impugned. Nothing substantial came out, and no minds were changed. Forget the nomination, we learned nothing from this hearing except that United States Senators don’t have the cognitive abilities of a part time high school girl taking an order at McDonalds!

You people stumbled through the hearing with one side trying to ignore witnesses and rush to confirmation, while the other side tried to divert, stall, and end the entire process while nothing was done to achieve a logical conclusion based on the nominee’s judicial abilities.The nominee’s court record was swept under the rug as high school beer busts became the order of the day. If You People behaved like that in a call center you would have been written up by your manager, and sent for retraining.

You People did not serve the American people this week. You People showed your collective asses. Instead of educated, revealing questions, You People attacked the witnesses with such veracity that they both behaved out of character. In both their defenses, to quote the words of Winston Churchill, “You cannot reason with a tiger when your head is in its mouth!”

No matter how the confirmation vote goes it will be a lie because You People spoke it. Whatever comes out, it will not serve the interest of the American people because You People aren’t interested in the interests of the American people. You are interested in propagating the interests of the one hundred.

All of your fancy words, and elegant speeches will not hide what we all saw last week. Will this affect the midterm? Who knows. It doesn’t matter. We’ll still have You People calling the shots. One from column A or one from column B. It’s all fried rice in the end. As I’ve said before, there is a great cosmic pendulum. It swings in history, life, and politics. It never sits in the center.

When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, December 6, 1941, the Japanese were basing their success on the laid back twenties and thirties generation in America. The “Flappers.” They gauged us by what they saw at Berkeley. They made a critical mistake. Even a good dog has a right to bite, and bite we did. We had to invent the atom bomb to kill enough Japanese to appease our anger.

Then came the baby boom, and the fifties. Doctor Spock, may he smoke a turd in hell, taught us that reasoning with children was far better than spanking. These children spilled into the streets, smoked everything that would burn, and screwing anything that had a heartbeat, and a few things that didn’t. Then, they ran for Congress, and THAT ended up being You People, the very nincompoops who conducted that hearing last week. The mentors of the Millennials, the laziest, freakiest, most dumbed down generation since Adam ate apple pie!

Remember that pendulum! Right now, as I type, there is a ten year old little girl. She is hearing the news, and not buying any of it. She is among the first generation to be completely bathed in the internet age. The first generation that feels weird opening a book. The first generation that thinks it knows it all, because it probably DOES. They have to. They have had only themselves because all moral, cognitive thought has long since been banished from the human equation.

As she hears the LBTGQ talk about fifty-seven genders she can take a pee and know it’s all a lie. When she sees Bruce Gender she turns on her iTunes, listens to “Dude Looks Like A Lady” and laughs her juvenile ass off. As she heard your so called hearing she knew the senators had long past lived past their usefulness. She reads the labels on her food because she knows the food is all flavored with herbicides, it’s just the amount is all that matters.

In twenty years she will run for Congress. The “Z” generation, as it’s known is simple. If the Russian President threatens us, they’ll just drop a nuclear bomb on the Kremlin. If the Muslims knock down a business center in New York, they’ll just blow up the Kabba. If illegals stream over the border, they’ll just reinstitute slavery.

Absurd, you say? You People have redefined absurdity and inflicted upon the American people the biggest absurdity of them all. YOURSELVES! As we watch as the country spins out of control, and wonder if anything can be done, that little girl sits, and waits and counts the years. Because of people like Doctor Spock, and “Protective Services,” and police screaming, “Show me your hands,” she knows she’s on her own, and her only allegiance is to others of her generation. She’ll show her hand, with the middle finger sticking straight up! She has one level or another of Reactive Attachment Disorder, but it’s not a disorder. It’s the method for survival. She will separate the sheep from the goats. Then she will make the logical choice because she has the conscience of a rather mature tomato. And we are the choice! If you are over thirty you will see what her choice will be. Prepare yourselves, You People. Your bunks are waiting.

The post You People! appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

¡Ay, Caramba! US Illegal Count Just Doubled

Wed, 10/03/2018 - 10:29am

I should have known something was up when soccer team owners felt confident enough to put the squeeze on cities to help foot the bill for new stadiums.

Ballerina ball holds the record for the longest period of being The Next Big Thing, without ever becoming the next big thing. Starting back in the 60’s the sport was supposed to sweep across America. Sure little kids played, but most of them left Scooby Doo and soccer behind when they grew up.

Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle, GA

That’s why for the past 50 years mayors would sooner subsidize the WNBA than a ‘footie’ team.

Now the Atlantic complains Cincinnati, Detroit, Nashville and Sacramento are all willing to pony up between $25 million and $75 million tax dollars to subsidize their local fútbol stadium.

Colin Kaepernick — founder of Millionaires Against Jim Crow — may have driven football fans out of NFL stadiums, but I don’t think the alienated were so desperate for a dose of patriotism that they would attend a game just to watch illegals wave Mexico’s flag.

This new popularity didn’t originate domestically. Just as the vast majority of soccer balls are made overseas and imported into the US, soccer fans are bred overseas and imported, assuming ICE is looking the other way. Quartz discovered the last time soccer was this popular was during the 1920’s when waves of immigrants came to take factory jobs citizens didn’t want to perform for Bologna wages.

The foreign–born population was nearly 14 percent, a hard number because none of those immigrants were ‘hiding in the shadows.’ Today’s number is also supposed to be 14 percent, but the number is soft like my daughter’s elementary–school soccer ball. The real foreign–born number is so much larger it inspires rich capitalists to demand tax dollars to subsidize their hobby.

Two Yale professors recently completed a study that undermines all the numbers the nice men at the Chamber of Commerce have used to lull the citizen population to sleep. Edward Kaplan and Jonathan Feinstein were skeptical of population estimates for the number of illegals in the US. They believed the 11 million number, was too large and only excited MAGA deplorables.

These academics were convinced a more rigorous analysis would give a greatly reduced total.

Yale Insights reports the team, along with Mohammad Fazel–Zarandi, began with “parameters intentionally aimed at producing an extremely conservative estimate.” Kaplan was astonished by the result, “Instead of a number which was smaller, we got a number that was 50 percent higher.”

“After running 1,000,000 simulations of the model, the researchers’ 95% probability range is 16 million to 29 million, with 22.1 million as the mean (or average).” This total is twice as large as the generally–accepted figure and was arrived at through a conservative approach.

This means the US has imported the equivalent population of Honduras, El Salvador and Nicaragua, if you accept the average, and if you’re a pessimist you can add Paraguay to the total.

It’s a testimony to the intellectual integrity of the Yale team that the research was published, instead of being given a decent, Christian burial. The only reason the team isn’t currently asking Sen. Ted Cruz for suggestions on safe places to eat is because the dishonest Opposition Media has taken it upon themselves to inter the findings.

Little India may have covered the heck out of the groundbreaking report, along with Fox News and the Washington Times, but there was zero mention in the Washington Post, the failing New York Times, the Wall Street Journal or any of the TV networks.

And no wonder, when you consider the implications. The number doesn’t mean just the population of illegal aliens in the US today is wrong by at least a factor of two, it means all the other numbers and estimates derived from the original faulty number are also wrong by a factor of two or more.

Here are only a handful of the costs and burdens illegals impose on citizen taxpayers that should be revised sharply upward.

The estimated $11.9 billion in yearly healthcare cost that taxpayers must cover might be $24 billion.

The $135 billion in federal, state and local taxpayer dollars that’s spent on illegals each year might be $270 billion.

The 4.2 million illegal alien children crowding our schools might be 8.4 million.

And the 1.8 million DACA illegals demanding citizenship in return for their crime might be 3.6 million.

Compared to those numbers, $75 million to subside a sport that snuck into the country on the backs of illegals looks like a bargain. The future of North America may indeed be found inside a subsidized soccer stadium, but if conservatives don’t wake up, it won’t be the future of the United States.

Rick McKee, The Augusta Chronicle, GA

The post ¡Ay, Caramba! US Illegal Count Just Doubled appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

The Arms Dealer – Dearborn

Tue, 10/02/2018 - 11:33pm

The Arms Dealer Dearborn

by Brother Theo

I remember the day I learned the most important lesson of my life the first day of school in Dearborn, Michigan. It was, as the Hoi polloi say, a day that changed the rest of my life. I had just turned thirteen, and my family had moved from Cedar Rapids Iowa to Dearborn Michigan. Personally, I hated it. And why shouldn’t I? My dad had been an executive in an accounting department at Kellogg’s, and we lived in a nice house. It was a nice neighborhood too, and there were lots of kids my age, or close to my age living there, and most of them were my friends. It was great! My friends and I played baseball nearly every Saturday during school when the weather was nice (couldn’t play in the winter much, because of the clothes. Try to play winter baseball in Cedar Rapids in baseball clothes and you’d freeze your acorns off, as my uncle Wally used to say.) But nearly every day during summer, it was game on. And the truth is, We had a pretty good team.

Some of the fathers came and coached. Some guy at Kellogg’s even bought us some good uniforms, you know, the kind the pros wear? That way when we rode our Schwinns to the crappy neighborhoods like hells angels in formation to play ball we’d look good. Forget that, we looked great, like a division of Panzers rolling into some Polish slum. Mostly we’d play ball with the kids whose dads worked in the manufacturing and warehouse divisions of Kellogg’s along with the families of paper mill workers, truck drivers and other workers Plato referred to as deltas and epsilons, and uncle Wally referred to as the losers. He wasn’t uncle Wally, but sometimes Plato could put the nail right in it.

Anyway, even though we usually kicked those losers asses (a lot of them couldn’t put together a pickup game without using girls and little kids!), every once in a while we got beat. Some of those black kids could sure play ball. That’s something I learned when we got to Dearborn too, because it seemed to me that nearly everybody in Dearborn was black. At least the ones that went to my school.

See, when we moved to Michigan it was because my dad got a promotion, and he got that promotion on account of the guy whose desk chair Pop’s butt was soon to be warming had croaked, and they needed dad there yesterday. Which is on account of why Uncle Wally stayed there in Cedar Rapids to sell the old homestead, and we had to hoof it quick to a rented house in Dearborn that was in a neighborhood that, like Dearborn itself, was an armpit. It was so bad in that first house that my mom had to put down boards for us to walk on until she had some people in to scrub the cooties off the floor! And the school? All I can say is two things about the school; one is, don’t give me your sob stories about prison, because that school, Edison intermediate school, was where kids went to train for prison. Our basketball team was even called the Gladiators! I always tell people that I learned everything important in gladiator school, and that’s not far from the truth.

The second thing is, that school is where I learned that Plato didn’t make wide enough use of the alphabet. Where had American DNA gone so wrong? None of these people were ever going to do anything but employ cops and prison guards, and half the girls there had another future convict bun in the oven!

So there I was a soft white rich kid in a predominantly black junior high school fresh out of the sixth grade. Fresh meat. I would learn what that meant too. Ok, so my life changing moment. You should give me a sign when I get off topic like that. Sometimes I sound like that peckerwood, Brother Theo as he calls himself, down in Texas.

What happened is this: there was this older guy named Devon, need I mention he was black? He’s going with this girl his own age, seventeen I’m pretty sure, who’s going to high school over at the Carla B. Ford school for disadvantaged girls. Sounded like a real homecoming queen. I saw her later, and she scared me worse than Devon. Soon it came to pass that Devon and a few of his buddies scared the bejesus out of me the second week I landed in that cesspool. I had my head in my locker between Mrs. Murray’s English class and Mr. Eppinger’s math snooze when it happened. I wasn’t paying any attention to what was happening because between the boredom of Mrs Murray’s voice, which was like verbal chloroform, and the terror I was feeling what with being a piece on a giant Jumanji board, I didn’t realize until too late that big hands were ripping everything out of my locker. I was then violently shoved into that small space. I heard the padlock click shut. It sounded like a prison door
slamming shut behind me. I was trapped upside down in my locker, folded in half like a taco! I fought the feeling of being suffocated alive by thinking how proud Mrs. Murray would be of my comprehension of the word claustrophobic. I listened to the sounds outside in the hallway; the hallway full of people just a few inches away. If anyone noticed they didn’t say anything. Upside down and facing the wall like I was, I couldn’t budge, or cry out! Heck, it was everything I could do to breathe. I listened as the noises in the hallways dwindled. I heard the sharp metallic buzz summoning all us kids to class. I heard the late bell and wondered if I would be in trouble. I heard my uncle Wally’s voice say in my head, “Of course you’re in trouble bucko, you’re walled up just like that brainless idiot in that story you like called “The Cask Of The Amontillado” and the boys who put you there are blacker than Othello ever dreamed of being”. That was a strange but significant after thought.

See, in my whole life, I had never even seen a black person. Between one thing and another I guess I never got around to it. So when we moved to Dearborn, I was like those animals on the Galápagos Islands that had never seen a human. Like the dodo bird, I didn’t know enough to be afraid. I guess when we did move, a change took place in the house we were living in, and without knowing what was happening, the seeds of racism were receiving their first rainfall. Today, there would be a torrent. After they took everything from my locker up to the second floor boys room and divided it up, the boys, men really, came back, pried me out of my locker, took everything from my pockets and told me to follow them.

It was the first day of my life I ever played hooky from school, and beneath the electric current of fear I felt (I was pretty sure even uncle Wally would be wetting his pants in this situation), I felt the first tendrils of excitement which accompany acts of conspiratorial malice. In time this excitement would grow, and become a part of my character, becoming a reward in and of itself. Sitting inside a short outlet tunnel of the concrete drainage ditch that ran through this ritzy part of my new hometown I met Devon and his gang.

And they WERE a gang, something that had only bounced around in my teenage skull as an amorphous combination of the cast of West Side Story, and those old Batman villains with their legions of henchmen. But surrounding me on that day, the day that changed my life, were five of the scariest looking thugs that I might have imagined during one of those terror filled walks I sometimes made in the darkness on my way home from a late baseball practice; the ones where I would imagine the wolf man treading on soundless, deformed paws behind me. It’s lips would be pulled back over horrible fangs, and rending claws would be reaching for my vulnerable neck. It would be identical to the plastic model of that Hollywood horror which resided on the stand right next to my bed! On those nights I could swear I heard it’s hungry growl and the skin on my arms and back would stipple with goose bumps as I broke into a full run that did not slow until the front door of my house was safely shut behind me.

But then no one like Devon or his minions ever lived in my old neighborhood in Cedar Rapids. Hell, they couldn’t have gotten within miles of that neighborhood, but here I was, squatting in their neighborhood like one of the three little pigs, with five big bad wolves surrounding me.

“Now, I ‘magine you sittin’ there thinkin’ me and Smiley and the rest of us done you wrong today” Devon said this leaning forward on his corded forearms. Squatting on his haunches before me, his shadow enveloped me completely, and I noticed that bristly hairs sprouted from his forearms in a way that reminded me of the clumps of thistles that grew in the unused lots all over this part of Dearborn. Smiley, a name I never once saw him earn, nodded sympathetically at these words and the others looked at me concernedly.

I wanted to say “What, me? Not at all, why would I feel that way?” But my tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of my mouth by a big old glob of sticky peanut butter. And even if I could have said anything I wouldn’t have, because some primitive instinct made me be still, like a rabbit under the hawk’s shadow.

Devon’s merciless eyes searched mine, and in that long, endless moment I realized I was on trial for my life. “What’s the matter little peckerwood? Cat got yo’ tongue?”

Not knowing what to say I shrugged and managed to say, “I guess I don’t talk much.”

Devon stared at me in disbelief and then threw back his head laughing so uproariously that the sound bounced up and down the cement walls of the riverbed, but it’s echoes pulled the last of his humor with them. “That be the
first time I ever hear of a peckerwood that ain’t got much to say”. The rest of the gang chuckled. After another searching gaze he stood up. Gesturing for me to stand, he put a heavy arm on my shoulder, and we walked back toward the school.

On the way he explained three things to me. The first was that I wasn’t getting any of my stuff back. The second was that he was going to take anything he wanted from me every day from now on; in fact, I had better find him every morning so he could take it. “That what you white folk call robbin’ when a black man do it, but taxin’ when a white man do it” he explained. The third thing he said was what changed me forever. Not all at once you see, but slow like, as Devon would have said. What Devon said to me was this, as we arrived at the boundary of the school property. “One thing you can count on fo’ sure the rest of yo’ life. If a man can hurt you, he jabbed my chest with a thick forefinger for emphasis, and get hisself ahead in the doin’ of it, he gonna do it certain as I’ll whup yo’ ass the first time you show up with nothin’ fo’ me!”

I nodded dumbly as his gang started forward again. Holding me in place by my shirttail, he waited until they were out of sight. Inclining his head toward the school he said, “ The lie is that you get your learning in there. The truth is, that’s where they tame you, take away your imagination, show you your place, make you the way they want you to be.”

Relaxing his grip on my shirttail he said, “Out here, there isn’t any law a man can’t learn to avoid. In there,” he nodded toward the school again. “it’s ‘crime doesn’t pay,’ and ‘do unto others as you would have them do to you. They’ll teach you that there is a line in front of everything you want, and that you have to stand in it until you get to the head; meanwhile, all the people THEY want, the RIGHT people, well they get cuts. You hearing me?”

Utterly fascinated by his change from racial stereotype to something I had yet to classify, I forgot to be afraid. Time went by, as it does in every life, and here’s what happened. Within a month my family relocated into what would become West Bloomfield. It was kind of a green zone in the Detroit area. During that month I dutifully brought money and things like watches and small bits of jewelry to Devon, and, on his advice to other members of the gang.

“Not too much.” he said to me when he mentioned it, “Just enough to make them forget the difference between black and white.” He also arranged for me to receive several beatings until I learned the difference between victor and victim. I also learned that crime indeed DOES pay, and that selling insurance against loss was a big earner too.

Using his street patois whenever we were within earshot of others he taught me things like, “Firs’ you send in a ringuh, you tell that nigga to go wild. Tell him to break the place up, and then steal somepin’. Not any somepin’, but somepin’ you already scoped out, somepin’ high dollah. Bes’ you use somebody owes you, or maybe somebody you got a grip around his neck; maybe you give him a little dope. But you takes that somepin’ you sent him in fo’. Then, you shows up and says lawdy lawdy, looky here, what done happened here? Then you helps the mark up an’ brush him off, offer to call John laws. While he tryin’ to get his head straight, you says you know somebody can make sure this don’t never happen again, but it costs them twenty a week. Most of the time, they give it up smooth.”

After we moved I would regularly go out with Devon and his gang. I learned the finer points of robbery, strong arming, extortion and best of all, what the black market was, and how to profit from it. To my parents horror, I volunteered for service in Vietnam. Devon and I went in together, and between his fine tuned killing skills, and my parents connections to Vice President Ford, I became first a lieutenant and got Devon promoted to first sergeant. He was actually a great soldier when we weren’t busy stealing, extorting and conning our way through the war. We volunteered for and got high value target assignments, allowing us to make great connections with enemy agents and spooks from the agency. We sent more dope home taped to the back of Kodak photos than other smugglers were in boxes. By the time we got out, I was a light colonel and Devon was a sergeant major. But most importantly, I got a gig in the pentagon as a kind of go between with the agency. Toward the end of the war there were literally hundreds of thousands of munitions and arms blanketing the countryside in Vietnam, and helpfully, Devon and I developed recovery units, effectively stealing thousands of machine guns, small arms, grenades, missiles, and even some mechanized infantry, along with tons of ammunition. Getting our share to a safe place was easy.
Eventually we sold off the whole stash to whoever paid the most, even spreading some of it around dear old Dearborn. I live a pretty good life these days, I don’t sell guns now, but influence and money. Devon tried to go back to the streets and wound up controlling most of the heroin trade in Detroit until he caught cold from a bullet. I think maybe he wanted it that way. For my part, I’ll keep stealing the American dream.

The post The Arms Dealer – Dearborn appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

The Rape Of The Sabine Women

Mon, 10/01/2018 - 4:19pm

Take a close look at the feature picture, the Rape Of The Sabine Women. Are you offended? Save your fork. It gets better. I’d like to begin by saying that I don’t have a thin skin. I’ve been writing about politics virtually all of my life, and especially the last eight years. Doc Greene drafted me from my back porch and I began to do pieces for his show on Raging Elephants which he still feeds from American Voice Radio, and where I do a weekly segment. I’m well versed in trapping people in their own words, angering them into stupid pronouncements, and supporting any position, if I agree with it or not. Welcome to the world do op/ed journalism. Pleased to meet you. Won’t you guess my name.

Even though I usually show mercy on “civilians,” over the weekend, with a sufficient supply of libations, I had intense discussions with several people about the current confirmation process going on in Washington. They were nicely opinionated. I mean, they had CNN to back them up. Now, I always approach such things lightly. I input some humor to disarm the opponent, try to keep the language reasonably clean so as to stay out of Facebook Jail, and pull out when the conversation gets redundant or too abusive. Pulling out is not very manly, I know, but after what I do them on line during a debate I would not want to leave any Cyber DNA behind. But this weekend I hung in there, however, after all the threats, and I learned some things. What I learned was that most Americans don’t have any sense. Statements like that are going to rub some people the wrong way, but they need to be rubbed if our Republic is going to survive. We need to not base our conclusions on CNN, MSNBC, and yes, the Holy Grail of the conservatives, the much venerated Fox News Network. The American public is at present, no different than the Nazi rallies, all saluting and shouting mantras fed to them by the party, ever which party that may be.

Last night I penned an article for the Trib, which topped the front page this morning, and went into distribution. In “Two Drunk Girls Walked Into A Party” as usual, I mixed in humor, but also a lot of good, Texas common sense that I learned from MY grandmother. My grandfather was a Mississippi Riverboat gambler. My Uncles were pretty fair hold up men, small stores mainly, and two of them joined the army to avoid prosecution. Man’s gotta do something for a living. All these people knew the cold, hard facts of life and one of those facts was that if you are a teenage girl, and you show up at a beer bust full of teenage boys after dark, and subsequently get stupid enough to drink with them then you will most likely not be involved in reciting the Rosary. Though, in the words of the prophet John Fogarty, Jody might get religion all night long. Now, I’m sorry to be the first one to tell you young virgins that, but having been in many such prayer sessions, myself, I can attest that a form of communion is pretty much in the air at such events.

The members of the committee all know this. Even Dianne Feinstein, though her recollection may be a bit more remote than others. Those hypocrites sitting up there, peering over their glasses sacramoniously, acting like this is the crime of the century need to take that two by four out of their eye before they try to remove a thirty-six year old speck from anyone else’s! They take the moral high ground, of which there is none in Washington DC, it’s a swamp, and expound upon virtues that have been long gone since Booth blew Lincoln’s brains out , if they were ever really there at all. The virtues, not Lincoln’s brains.The #METOO movement is all very fine, and gets good mileage, but in the long run compared to the NFL nobody cares, baby. These are simple truths YOUR grandmother should have taught YOU.

That just made you mad, didn’t it? It’s easier to get mad, and quote sound bites you heard from Bill Mahr than to listen, and reason things out. I just attacked the Holy of Holies. Thousands of abused women and girls crying for justice. Well, let me clue you in. Even truckers out there who have picked up tons of teenage runaways at truck stops will stiffen in righteous indignation as long as their wives are looking at them. Little different down at the Flying J at three AM. Not that truckers are bad. They are human! On the road, alone, for days at a time, pick up a hitchhiker who takes a few sips out of a bottle, and crawls back in the bunk for the night. Next day you slip her a twenty dollar bill at the next truck stop and you part friends. He won’t change her, and she won’t change him. And the Judicial Committee won’t change human nature. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the real world of boys and girls. I still remember, at thirteen years old, slipping under a slide at the playground and kissing Pam Dent. It was only a smack, but I knew that if I could figure this out everything else was gonna be alright!

Judge Kavanaugh did not tie Ms Ford to a bed, buck naked, and sodomize her. We all know that. She admits she was drunk. That’s no huge sin. She was a kid. But so was Kavanaugh. She put herself into that situation. No one grabbed her off the street, shoved her into a van, and took her to a remote barn. No matter what occurred, when she decided to leave she just left. Three or four boys there, and at least one other girl, and no one stopped her. Her friend didn’t see fit to leave with her. If the so called attack had been soooo brutal, why didn’t “friend” chastise Kavanaugh or anybody else, but instead remained at the party. In my opinion Christine Ford was what is known as a “wall flower.” And that’s cool. Wall Flowers end up pushing their glasses back up their noses and giving speeches at graduation. Good little girls go to heaven. Bad little girls get to go everywhere else.

Sexual relations really are “Fifty Shades of Grey.” And fifty shades of black, white, pink, yellow, red, or any other color a man can talk into a bed. If that were not true then that book would not be a best seller. To inhibit sexuality unreasonably is like a dam holding back water. If you let a little water out occasionally then things go according to plan, but if you stop it up eventually it WILL get out with disastrous consequences. By the way, eighty percent of our dams are on that junction in the country right now.

Back in the Middle Ages some Pope came up with the cockamamie idea that priests should not be married, and remain celibate. That worked for up to about a week, and then they started screwing little girls, little boys, and just about anything else that couldn’t walk, run, or fly away, BUT they didn’t get married. Praise the Lawd!

Men and boys, and yes, women and girls react to social stimulus. The drive to procreate is second only to hunger. If you want to take a moral high ground form #NOTME and put controls on the huge porn industry bleeding out of Hollywood that puts thoughts in young peoples’ heads they’d never have learned down on the farm or even at home in a flat in New York City. No less than Ted Bundy, just hours before his execution, laid his victim’s bodies squarely at the feet of the porn industry.

This is human nature, and human nature is not far removed from monkey nature. Religion, law, and morals will only take us so far. This having been said a moral atmosphere in that party that night prevailed. Did the kids drink? Yes they did. Was there most likely some touching going on? Most likely. Was anyone beaten, raped, or killed? You know the answer.

So, why do otherwise civilized people communicating on social media reduce themselves to the level of monkeys when discussing these things? You must remember that you, and I do NOT know all the facts. You know what your flavor of news service TELLS you to know, and I know what my supporters tell me. The barometer is Grandmother’s common sense. Stating groundless “facts” will not sway anyone’s opinion. Calling Judge Kavanuagh a pervert does not necessarily make it so. Calling Ms Ford a victim does not canonize her. Verily, verily, I say unto thee, both of these people were human that night so long ago and remain so until this day!

Solutions and social progress are achieved by civil discourse among persons with differing opinions. The framers of the constitution most likely couldn’t agree on lunch, but they penned a document so strong it endures to this day. When it was all done they all supported President Washington, even if they disagreed with him on certain policies. And yes, those guys had most likely been to parties with young girls. Let us reason together. It will make none of us any difference if Brett Kavanuagh is seated on the Supreme Court. I dare say that none of you will closely follow his career, or even understand his opinions. What matters is that we come through as reasonable human beings, conscious of our human frailties and more than that, our human virtues. We must end this tribalism imposed upon us by huge entertainment entities dedicated to their enrichment, and our detriment. Extend the olive branch of understanding or consign America to the rubbish heap of history. Don’t you realize that we are not yet three hundred years old. It took Rome that long just to fall. If we fall now, in a thousand years we won’t be a footnote in a child’s history book, and if we are it will be a funny one at that. We have all sinned. We have all fallen short of the glory.

The post The Rape Of The Sabine Women appeared first on Tea Party Tribune.

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