Just about every Friday my father and I go to an Italian Restaurant for lunch. We've been eating there for years. The food is always been very good and the waitresses are really sexy. The only problem I have with the place is the sexy waitresses never wait on my Dad and me. We get the happy married-lady waitress who rushes over to our table because she’s happy to see us. "What'll it be this time?" she says.
As she's taking our order I'm usually rocking back and forth in my seat, trying to get a glance at the great tits on the one waitress, the mighty ass on the other. Now there is nothing wrong with the happy married-lady waitress. She's very nice to us and the service is grand but please, can't we get one of the sexy waitresses with the cleavage and the low-rider jeans and the pierced bellybutton just once?
Well around one PM on Friday my Dad and I arrived at the Italian Restaurant like we usually do. We went in and went over to where we usually sit. We waited a few minutes like always but this time instead of happy married-lady waitress we get this stunning brunette with dark eyes. She had a beautiful face with dimples, big breasts under a red tee shirt and tight blue jeans around hips for childbirth. Now we're talking. You used to see girls like her in old issues of Penthouse back in the 80s, instant ache in the nether regions type of girl. Things were looking up.
She said, "May I take your order?"
"I'll have the manicotti," I said.
"I'll have the spaghetti with meat sauce," said Dad.
The delight in my eye at finally having a sexy waitress must have thrown her. She forgot what I asked for. Ten minutes later she comes back to our table with two plates of spaghetti on her tray.
She put one plate infront of Dad, one plate infront of me, then placed the check on the table.
"Excuse me," I said to her. "But I ordered the manicotti."
"Oh," she said. "I'm terribly sorry. Here let me take that and go back to the kitchen and I'll have them make it for you."
"No, that's okay," I said to her. "I'm in a hurry to get back to Pittsburgh and I'll just have this."
"Are you sure? It won't take long."
"No," I said. "This is fine. And the sexy waitress turned and walked away.
"She must be in training," said Dad.
I'm thinking, I blew her mind. I grabbed the grated cheese and after dousing the spaghetti with enough Parmesan to suit my taste, I grabbed my fork and starting eating. And to my surprise the stuff was tasty. I chowed it down, thoroughly enjoying every mouthful. Before I knew it I was finished. I looked at Dad's plate and saw he was only half done.
"Hey I know she made a mistake," I said. "But I got to admit that spaghetti was good eating. How's yours?"
"Bland," said Dad. "I don't like it at all."
"Really?" I said. I reached down and picked-up the check. I looked it over and saw we were being charged for one spaghetti with meat sauce and one without. "Did you order the spaghetti with meat sauce?"
"Yeah," said Dad.
"I ate your spaghetti."
Did I say I was in a hurry? On the way back to Pittsburgh I got a speeding ticket.
One evening In 1996 during that Presidential
election I was watching Charlie Rose, and his guest was the writer and activist
Norman Mailer. By this point Bob Dole and Bill Clinton had sewn up their
respective nominations and now it was the march to the Nov. vote. (I think you
can still find this interview on YouTube. It's worth checking out for Mailer's
take on the Dole and Clinton races, how Dole was like a 'leading man' in the
movies whereas Clinton was so much more like 'a star'.)
Anyway, Clinton was ahead in the poles and
Charlie asked Norman is there was anyway Bob Dole could pull this out. Mailer
said to the effect yeah, but only if Dole went to the mat over Iran Contra and
the drug running out of Mena Arkansas. Charlie chimes in with: "Of course
that's never been proven." At that moment I knew I was seeing something
important transpire but back then I didn't have a word for it. Now I do:
GateKeeper! Charlie The GateKeeper wasn't going to let that one about Mena slip
by unchallenged. And he couldn't if he didn't want to put this job in jeopardy.
"The White House on line one, Mr. Rose." It's funny how people in big
corporate media broadcast journalism don't have the luxury of being a delusional
paranoid. It's a dead certainty already that 'they're being watched ... '
Maybe it's a fantasy but I'd like to think there will eventually be a 'Truth Singularity'. Alt media folks like Truthstream Media and Corbett keep tossing out the puzzle pieces, and maybe someday that one puzzle piece falls into place so even bought and paid for gatekeeping gumbeaters like Scott Pelley or Charlie Rose can't dispute how obviously rotten the system has become. #Criswell The Psychic (that would be me) had this strange 'dream' back in the summer of 2002 that Dick Cheney sexually assulted the actress Bo Derek (big friend of the Bush family). I'll even quote what I heard ol' heartless Dick said: 'Did you miss me?' Maybe this wasn't their first time. Great Family Values Conservatism there. Even if it happened, 'Bambi' won't admit to it. She doesn't want to end up dead. Makes you wonder who the real terrorist are. 'Truth Singularity.' I got to believe everyday bring us one step closer to it.
The
following is Saddam Hussein's comment on the 11 Sept. 2001 attacks. It aired on
Iraqi TV, Baghdad, in Arabic at 17:05 GMT 12 Sept. 2001:
"Regardless
of the conflicting human feelings about what happened in the United States yesterday, the United States reaps the thorns
that its rulers have sown in the world. These thorns have not only caused the
feet and hearts of certain people to bleed, but also caused the eyes of people
to bleed - those people who wept a lot over their dead. The United States has harvested
their lives, not leaving a place without the people there having a symbolic
monument
indicating the criminal action of the United States against them. This was the case in Japan, which was the
first to suffer from the capabilities of nuclear destruction on which the
United States prides itself. This also includes what it did in Vietnam and Iraq
and what it did against the Russian nuclear submarine. Now, it carries out
criminal acts by supporting criminal and racist Zionism against the women, men, young people, elders and children of our valiant Palestinian
people.
Will the American peoples save
themselves and save the world with them from the evils of their rulers and
their terrorist crimes against the world? Or will their rulers, who have become
a toy in the hands of the criminal world of Zionism and its accursed, freak
entity, which has usurped the land of Palestine and the land of the Arabs, turn
the sentiments of the Americans into new terrorist plans against the world in a way that serves Zionist-Jewish greed for unlawful funds
and innocent blood? The American peoples should remember that, throughout
history, no one crossed the Atlantic to come to them, carrying weapons against
them. They are the ones who crossed the Atlantic carrying with them death,
destruction and ugly exploitation to the whole world.
Despite
this, we hope that the peoples of the United States will remember that the
souls that were killed with US weapons and US machinations and plots can rise
to God, Lord of Heavens and Earth, to complain about the injustice of the
United States. In fact, God, the Omnipotent and Great, can see. When God
strikes, no one can stand in the way of His power.
The one who does not want to reap
evil must not sow evil. Those who consider the lives of their people as
precious and dear must remember that the lives of people in the world are also
precious and dear to their families. The United States exports evil, in terms
of corruption and criminality, not only to any place to which its armies travel, but also to any place where its movies get. Therefore, the American
peoples should remember all this. If they remember this, they will save their
security and the security of the world from their rulers. However, if what
befell the United States is a domestic affair, then the people of the country
could diagnose the disease better than others."
Source: BBC
Monitoring Service
(If what befell the United States is a domestic affair, then the people of the country could diagnose the disease better than others? The Russian nuclear submarine? Where the movies get? Was Saddam leaving Easter Eggs for the 9/11 Truthers? Also I'm glad I saved this. Trying finding it on line now. I can't.)
Is somebody I know invoking the name of the the
demon of lies and guilt? Wikipedia says, 'as a Prince of Hell,
he commands 80 Legions of Demons and is specifically the Prince reigning over
the Northern Reaches of Hell. His General and Bride Avaira is the general of
these legions and of the Harposh Army. He controls the element of earth and
reigns over the Earth demons.'
People feeding my anger addiction. I'm telling you, it's a pain in the
butt.
In the Book of Jubilees, uncircumcisedheathens are called
"sons of Belial." A person I know said in my presence that he wanted
his foreskin back, and he may be the one invoking Belial.
Ooo. That old black Magic. Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Frank Sinatra.
On
Saturdays Buddy A cooks dinner for me.
Buddy B, the guy who sublets from him, also cooks me dinner but that’s
on Thursdays. The purpose of both
dinners is to have a full stomach in preparation for an evening of heavy
tequila drinking and movie viewing, usually until the wee wee hours of the
morning. Buddy B is something of a
gourmet. Buddy A … well his heart’s in
a right place, and Saturday is his day.
So I go over to his house around five-thirty and after we eat we leave
his house, hop into my car and I drive him over to my place with my big screen
TV and the aforementioned night of heavy drinking with all the pretty colors to look at on
the screen.
On
one particular Saturday around three in the afternoon I was puttering around my
apartment when my cell phone lit up. I went over to my desk and picked it up
and after flipping the lid saw I had a text message from Buddy B. I hit open
and read it.
The txt said: ‘Call me. Urgent’.
Okay. I punched his number and put the phone to my
ear. After a few rings he
answered. I said, “What’s up?”
“Dude,”
said Buddy B. “Is his ‘A’ - ness
cooking you dinner today?”
“Yeah,”
I said.
“Well,
you know how I am about food preparation, and I don’t like the way he’s been
handling that pound of ground meat he has out.”
“Oh? What’s he doing wrong.”
“Well
first he left that frozen ground meat out in the alley so the dogs could piss
all over it to thaw it out.”
“Oh?”
I said.
“Yeah
and the dogs wouldn’t even eat it. That
should tell you something.”
“Speaks
volumes.”
“Then,
he takes that pound of ground meat back inside and puts it on the kitchen
window shelf under the hanging fly strip.
He let it sit there for three days.
And Dude, you know how that fly strip is. There’s so many dead flies on already you can’t even see the
sticky surface any more. All the flies
already stuck there? Well there just
falling apart into little pieces of legs and wings and heads that just sprinkles
down on whatever’s under them.”
“Oh
my God,” I said.
“Then,”
said Buddy B, “he takes that ground meat and puts it on a plate, puts a whole
bunch of diced onions on the plate and takes it the bathroom. With the plate in his lap he was mixing the
onions into the meat while taking a shit.”
“Uh
ha,” I said.
“And
he didn’t wash his hands after. Dude,
if I were you I’d try and find some way to get out of eating whatever it is he
wants to cook.”
“Okay,
I get the picture. If his handling of
that ground meat is that bad, I’ll need a back-up plan. I know.
If he hasn’t started cooking yet, I’ll say, ‘Hey, no sense slaving over
a hot stove at this late date. We’ll
just over to my place and I’ll spring for a battleship from ‘The
Triangle.’ That should work.”
“Good. I only thought it fair to warn you. And don’t tell him I told you any of this.”
“Okay,
I appreciate the heads-up. Thank you.”
“You’re
welcome. What are friends for,
huh?”
So
five-thirty rolled around. I was
outside the house of Buddy A and walking up the steps to the porch. The front door was unlocked so I opened it,
stepped in, and after closing the door I went through the hall and into the
kitchen. There was Buddy A, wearing a
chef’s hat and a chef’s apron, holding the end of a wooden spoon and stirring
whatever was inside a tall, old steel pot with multiple streaks of something
brown escaping from the trim, traveling all the was down to the gas stove’s
flame where the brown stuff and fire met with satanic hissings and
sputterings. As Buddy stirred, steam
rose from the pot and collected as a gray cloud before the overhead kitchen
cabinets.
“Hey,”
I said.
He
looked away from the pot and said, “Holla.
We’re having chili tonight.”
“Chili?”
I said.
“Yeah. Last Saturday we talked about what we’d be
having today. I said, chili and you
said fine. Remember?”
“Oh,
yeah. I remember.”
“Good
because you’re in for a treat. This is
a family recipe.”
“Good,”
I said. “So I’ll just go into the
dining room and take off my coat.” I
turned and went through the doorway between the rooms.
Just
inside the dining doorway and on the wall was a rotary dimmer switch, but it’s
one of those kinds of switches where you have to press the button in first to
get the chandelier full of CFL bulbs to light, and then you can turn the knob
one way and make it go bright, or turn it the other way and make it go dark, or
make it go bright and make it go dark or make it just so you can see what the
hell you’re doing. The chandelier,
which was a bizarre enough sight to begin with, hung over a dining room table
with five chairs, two on either side and one at the end, all squeezed together
because the other half of the table was stacked halfway to the ceiling with
books and newspapers, Arby’s coupons, DVDs, and on the last bare space
available a lot of little miniatures figures from fantasy role playing games,
all scattered about as if making a massive break from a maximum security prison
and this was the view from the Sheriff’s helicopter.
I
went around the table to the right side.
After emptying my pockets of wire note pad and pen and cigarettes and
lighter and tossing them on the table, I hung my coat on the furthest chair
then sat on the one beside it. I
grabbed the ashtray which was a little ceramic statuette of some extreme
character you’d see at a Rusted Root concert, his pants and shirt all decked
out in African yellows and greens, beads around his neck, a fat knit hat on his
head, beard and sunglasses, a ceramic roach with a bright red end covering
about a third of his face and pinched between big ceramic lips. Above his head held in wannabee Altas
fashion a small ceramic notched bowl for cigarette ash. I reached for my pack of Dunhills.
Suddenly
the cell phone went off in my pocket. I
reached in and pulled it out, flipped the lid open and checked the
message.
The
text said: ‘He made chili.’
I
texted back: ‘I know.’
I
slipped the cell phone back in my pocket, a mistake since the phone went off a
second later. I pulled it back out of
my pocket and opened it and read the next message.
‘Did
you eat the chilli yet?’
‘No. Not yet’, I replied and I put the cell phone
on the table next to my smokes.
Buddy
A came into the dinning room carrying knives, forks and napkins. “Who is texting you?” he said.
“The
King Bee upstairs,” I said.
“Well
what’s he want?” He turned and went back into the kitchen.
“Oh
… uh … he wants to know what we’re doing tomorrow.”
The
cell phone went off again. Again I
flipped the lid and checked the message.
‘I
wouldn’t eat it if I were you.’
I
texted, ‘I’ll take my chances.’ I put
my phone back on the table.
Through
the doorway into the kitchen I could see Buddy A with his back to me, again at
the stove having resumed stirring that chili with his wooden spoon. He kept stirring for a few moments then
stopped and removed the wooden spoon from the chili and gawked because the bowl
on the end was missing.
“Oops,
“ said Buddy A and he started to laugh.
“This spoon comes in two pieces.
I need another.” He walked to
his right and out of view
The
cell phone went off yet again. Yet
again I picked it up and flipped the lid and checked the message.
‘I
warned U.’
Buddy
A stuck his head through the doorway and said, “Tell him you’re eating.”
“I
think he’s said everything he’s has to say.”
Buddy
A ducked back into the kitchen. A few
minutes later, sans chef’s hat and apron, he returned carrying in each hand two
steaming earthen bowls. He came over
and placed a bowel of chili before me then placed his at the head of the table
where he usually sits. He turned and
left the dining and seconds later returned this time carrying one plate with a
gray-white mountain of diced onions and another of a greenish-yellow mountain
of diced jalapeno peppers. He put both
plates before me then plopped his big self into his chair. He picked up his spoon and looked at me with
a big grin.
I
picked up my spoon too and I noticed my hand was shaking. I said, “How many of those onions can I
have?”
“Oh
I have enough onions in my chili. You
can take as much as you want.”
“And
the jalapenos?”
“Same.”
With
my left hand I reached forward and grabbed that plate of onions. I brought it over the chili and with my
spoon I scrapped it all in. I put the
plate back where it had been then grabbed the plate of jalapenos and repeated
the process. My theory was if there was
anything questionable about the ground meat in this chili, the combination of
onions and jalapenos should mount at least a spirited defense against anything
nasty. I took my spoon and dipped it
into the chili and began to stir. As it
did I looked over at Buddy A. I noticed
he ate chili with a rotary hand motion that bore a disturbing resemblance to
the spinning blades of a push mower. I
went back to the chili I was stirring.
Then I stopped - the moment of truth had arrived. With my spoon I scooped up some chili,
opened my mouth and slid it in. After
thoroughly chewing the jalapenos bits and the onions bits and the beans and the
meant, I swallowed.
“How’s
the chili?” said Buddy A with a big grin.
“Not
bad,” I said.
My
pack of Dunhill cigarettes was near my left hand. Dropping my spoon into my chili, hoping it would be there went I
got back to it, I reached with my right and slid out a cigarette. I popped the cig into my mouth and grabbed
the Steelers lighter and fired it up.
After transferring the cig to my left hand, I grabbed my spoon.
As many as four men from Qatar are
suspected of aiding the Al Qaeda hijackers in the Sept. 11, 2001, terror
attacks, but investigators concluded in the days following the attacks that
there was insufficient evidence to charge the suspects, law enforcement sources
told Fox News on Tuesday.
Officials spoke after The (London)
Daily Telegraph published leaked diplomatic cables obtained by WikiLeaks that
were sent between the U.S. embassy in Doha and the Department of Homeland Security in Washington.
The documents reveal that on Aug.
15, 2001, three men from Qatar flew to the U.S. from London. They visited New
York City and Washington D.C., and made trips to the World Trade Center, the Statue of Liberty, the White House and "various areas" in
Virginia.
They then flew to Los Angeles where
they checked into a hotel and stayed for several days, checking out on Sept.
10.
According to the memo, "hotel
cleaning staff grew suspicious of the men because they noticed pilot type
uniforms, several laptops and several cardboard boxes addressed to Syria.
"The men had ... a cellular
phone attached by wire to a computer," it added. "The room also
contained pin feed computer paper print outs with headers listing pilot names,
airlines, flight numbers, and flight times."
The trio was scheduled to fly to
Washington one day before the attacks, but instead departed for London. A
subsequent FBI investigation found that the men's airline
tickets and hotel were paid for by a "convicted terrorist," the memo
said.
The next day, the American Airlines
flight they had intended to take to Washington was hijacked by five terrorists
and crashed into the Pentagon, killing 184 people.
According to the cable, the three
men, Meshal Alhajri, Fahad Abdulla and Ali Alfehaid, were helped by a fourth
man, Mohamed Al Mansoori, while in the U.S.
Al Mansoori, who has never been
publicly named in connection with the 9/11 attacks, is suspected of
"aiding people who entered the U.S. before the attacks to conduct
surveillance ... and providing other support to the hijackers."
“There was never enough evidence to
bring charges against the men,” a source told Fox News, adding that “the
situation smelt bad," without elaborating further.
The 9/11 Commission report,
released in 2004, confirmed that at least two of the hijackers had a
"brief stay in Los Angeles about which we know little."
Law enforcement sources told Fox
News there was no active hunt underway for the men but at least one remained of
interest to the U.S. Al Mansoori at one time lived in Long Beach, Calif., but
his current location is not known.
Only one person was tried and
convicted for the 9/11 attacks, Zacarias Moussaoui, a French citizen often
called the "20th" hijacker. He is currently serving a life sentence
in a Colorado prison.
The leaked cable was published
Tuesday amid reports Al Qaeda was attempting to procure nuclear
material and recruit rogue scientists in order to build a radioactive
"dirty bomb."
Security chiefs told a NATO meeting
in Jan. 2009, that the terror group was planning a program of "dirty
radioactive improvised explosive devices [IEDs]," according to another set
of documents released by WikiLeaks.
The cable, also obtained by The
Telegraph, revealed that Al Qaeda documents found in Afghanistan in 2007
convinced security officials that "greater advances" had been made in
bio-terrorism than was previously feared.
Fox News' Catherine Herridge
contributed to this report.
MIAMI (Aug. 27) - Small toys showing an
airplane flying into the World Trade Center were packed inside some of more
than 14,000 bags of candy sent to small groceries around the country before
being recalled.
Lisy Corp., the wholesaler that distributed
the candy, said Friday that the toys were purchased in bulk from a Miami-based
import company.
The toys came in an assortment purchased sight
unseen from L&M Import in Miami and included the toys depicting the Sept.
11, 2001, attack on the twin towers, whistles and other small toys, said Luis
Padron, Lisy's national sales manager. The invoice said the toy was a plastic
swing set.
''I hate to blame the importer. He probably
did not know what he was getting. He brings them in 40-foot containers. But
whoever made it knew exactly what they were making,'' Padron said. Padron said Lisy did not notice the small plastic figurines until two people complained, but there was no misting what the toys represent: At the bottom of each is the product number 9011.
''When we found out what happened, we recalled
them immediately,'' said Padron, who said the toys made in China do not reflect
his company's view. ''I was offended by them.''
The candy bags were distributed by the
company's 100 distributors. Most are sold to small Hispanic and Mexican
groceries, Padron said. He said 448 of the Twin Tower toys left the warehouse
for distribution, but he managed to put a hold on the rest.
Anna Rodriguez, who bought a bag of the candy
for her grandson, said she was stunned when she saw the toy.
''It makes me angry,'' she told television
station WFTV. ''I was offended because I couldn't believe that someone would
give something like that to a kid.''
Padron said he is saving the toys to return to
the distributor.
A woman who answered the telephone at L&M
refused to give her name and said Friday she did not know anything about the
toy.
I was holding a cigarette and I didn't have a light. Now there was this guy with his back to me. So I walked over to him and tapped
him on the shoulder and said, "Hey buddy. Got a light?"
He turned around and Oh My God it was New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg. He looked a my cigarette, looked at my
face then proceeded to beat me the shit out of me. He knocked me to the ground then
he did that thing where he points at his
eyes with two fingers and points at me with one. He did this back and forth
until his subway car pulled up. He sneered at me, got on, the doors closed behind him and off he
went.
I got up and dusted myself off. Holy
cow, I thought. No wonder he got elected mayor. So I saw this other guy with his back to me. I walked up to him and
tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Hey buddy. "Got a light?" He turned around and Oh My God it's Bill
Gates. He looked a my cigarette, looked at my face then hit me with his Mind-Ray and I died a thousand
deaths, skydiving without a parachute and being sacrificed at the foot of
a volcano where just two among many. When he had his fill of inflicting the tortures of the damned he turned and walked away. I
got up, dusted myself off and thought, No wonder Microsoft is on my
computer. "Hey buddy. Got a light?"
I was outside The Post Office and it was the first time I'd
seen him in years. Through mutal friends he'd heard about my first
short-story sale, a mystery story to Woman's World Weekly. I made 500
bucks. I also mentioned to him I was having some problem with the car; super-genius that he is, he offered to fix it for me. I didn't take him up on
it. I didn't feel like getting pulled back into the fold just yet. Thank goodness.
About six months ago I was
going through my MySpace friends, clearing out the no photos and 'x-ed' out
profiles and to my surprise I noticed I couldn't find Chuck Palahniuk's
profile. I was crushed. I was sure Mr. Palahniuk dropped me as a friend. I even
did a blog post where I complained to Larry David about it. (I didn't
know whom else to complain to.)
Well today I was doing a little MySpace house cleaning again and to my surprise I find
Mr. Palahniuk's picture. So I'd like to take this opportunity to
apologize to Mr. Palahniuk for this inaccuracyand say I'm so glad you're still my friend because
typing Palahniuk this many times has made me a better typist.
As he stood to the left of the movie screen the entomology
professor said, “The Mating Dance of The
Japanese Beetle is fraught with peril.
Roll the film please.”
A teacher’s aide turned off all the lights
then turned on a 16mm projector. On the
screen a gray numbered countdown as the projector went wrrrr.
“First we see a concrete block wall,” said
the professor, “and before it we see a swarm of fleas. Next, the camera tilts down and we are
looking at a concrete floor and near the bottom of the screen, as the camera
zooms in, we see a female grooming.
"She has the two chitinous covers on her wings pulled open,
the edges of her wings sticking out the back so she can preen with her rear
legs. Kind of the
Japanese Beetle equivalent of The Tramp Stamp, ha ha ha."
Female students
in the classroom began to squirm in their seats, one or two thinking of their own.
“Now up and to the left of our languid female we see a
Japanese beetle going in circles, it seems endlessly. He has to be the male, right?
“At this point
the camera pans left and we see another female in the process of grooming and
up and to her left we see another male beetle.
“Sadly in this case the poor little guy ended up on his
back with legs frantically spearing the air.
If he’s lying on his wings he can’t fly. The Mating Dance of
The Japanese Beetle is fraught with peril!
“The camera goes back to our first Japanese beetle couple,
the one with the male going in circles and whoops he just flipped on his back
too.
“Now from the top of the screen we see a Japanese beetle
scuttling down the concrete towards our first two with a black ant clinging to
a back leg.
“Did he accomplish what the male beetle going in circles
failed to do, which is buy dinner for the little tart beetle nonchalantly showing
her bum?
“And at this moment a whole swarm of Japanese beetles lands
on the concrete and takes a bad bounce and they all end up on their backs with
legs kicking.
“Now the camera pans up to the left and we see a small army
of black ants all over three Japanese beetles, on their backs getting eaten alive.
“It’s not looking good for the home team.
“Then the Japanese beetle with the ant stuck to his back
leg rights himself, spreads his wing and flies up ten feet. He drops that ant
to his death.
“Yaaaaaaaa … !
The Mating Dance of
The Japanese Beetle. Pages 49 to 100 in
your textbooks. Class dismissed. Turn that projector please.”
After the classroom
emptied the professor said, “The fleas.What about the swarm of fleas … ?”
Julian Assange's Wikileaks dump in 2011 percipitated The Arab Spring. I remember some NBC correspondent in Tahrir Square saying, "Is this the beginning of the Wikileaks revolution?" Let me explain how it worked. The citizens of Tunisia, Libya, Egypt, Yemen, Syria already knew how corrupt their government were always, but now they had hard copy evidence they could hold in their fists as they took to the streets. In an inteview with The Rolling Stone the interlocutor asked Assange how he felt about getting credit for The Arab Spring. Assange stated he and his associated spent 12 months planning it. Assange started The Syrian Civil War and I can't escape that conclusion. If it wasn't for him there wouldn't be the 470,000 dead, the maimed, the refugess. I don't trust Julian Assange. I see somebody who gave the neo neo Cons an excuse to carve up the Middle East like they been doing, only more so. He played right into Hillary Clinton's hands in Libya. She couldn't wait to kill somebody. I wonder if Assange's game is a limited hang-out, making him a stooge for the NWO (pronounced newhoa). He's the perfect excuse to crackdown on the press too. I love you and your work Lionel, but this time I got to tell you ... the blood on Assange's hands matches his tie. He should be put on trial in The Hague for crimes against humanity.
There's a food goin' around that's a sticky sticky goo (Peanut, peanut butter) Oh well it tastes real good, but it's so hard to chew (Peanut, peanut butter) All my friends tell me that they dig it the most (Peanut, peanut butter) Early in the morning when they spread it on toast (Peanut, peanut butter) I like peanut butter, creamy peanut butter Chunky peanut butter too
C'mon now, take a lesson now (Peanut, peanut butter) Open up your jar now (Peanut, peanut butter) Spread it on your cracker now (Peanut, peanut butter) Chomp now (Peanut, peanut butter) I like peanut butter, creamy peanut butter Chunky peanut butter too
Well, I went to a dinner and what did they eat (Peanut, peanut butter) Ah-well, I took a big bite and it stuck to my teeth (Peanut, peanut butter) Now everybody look like they got the mumps (Peanut, peanut butter) Just-a eatin' peanut butter in-a great big hunks (Peanut, peanut butter) I like peanut butter, creamy peanut butter Chunky peanut butter too I like peanut butter, creamy peanut butter Chunky peanut butter too
