Category Archives: President Obama

Revoltin’ Developments

No one likes a spoil sport, and it begins to look as though Washington, D.C. has become a town full of boys and girls who are just that.  The playing field is empty.  Everyone seems to have taken their ball and walked off the field to slouch around on the sideline, kicking stones and dirt and pointing fingers, calling names and trying to convince the helpless spectators (Us) that everyone else is at fault.  But they?  They are not to blame.  Well, in a game this important, everyone not playing, everyone not willing to come out on the field and get it done, is in some part to blame.

What is really galling, though, are the attacks on the fans. You know what I mean?

The progress of events since this began is what I’m talking about: the barricades and closings of public spaces, even of the ocean, and the petty harassment of old and young is at once laughable and pitiful to witness, humiliating to live through, as if a close family member was a public drunkard, a child or dog beater.  The venal attempts at humiliation of opponents, the snubbings and the kind of petulant silence masquerading as imperial, above the fray behavior on the part of the president haven’t been seen since Nixon, and surpass even his worst.   To what good end are open spaces shut against men and women who have sacrificed much in service to the rest of us?  What example does it set for our young people who most desperately need education and example in honesty, mutual respect, goodness and duty?  Why are people offering services to hungry or tired travelers on federal roads prevented from doing so?  Is it not just good for business?  Does it not aid safety and could it nor be looked on as a work of charity?  There’s Progress and Change that might bring real Hope to a bewildered and increasing frustrated and angry body politic..

But, the evidence so far suggests that no one inside the beltway really gives a tinker’s damn about anyone outside of it.  It seems in some, or in all, of these cases that the “shut down” government has turned against the people whose government it is.  It’s as if a kind of auto immune disease has infected us, or that DC is a tumor in our gut.

I am old enough to remember when we were shown the example of leaders such as Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Lincoln, the two Roosevelts, Wilson and Eisenhower (by God), and others, guys like Tip O’Neill, John Mc Cormack; men who pledged their lives and sacred honor to the life and honor of this once wonderful place.

Now what have we?   We have a leaderless mob in government as out Chief Executive sits in his palace (when not somewhere playing golf) and refuses to come out to play…unless they use his ball.  He refuses, even, to play unless he’s given a win before the game starts.  Who plays like that? Caesars.

He is an intelligent man, I suppose, but he isn’t behaving as an intelligent man.  His failure to “engage” with the other side on any level is more indicative of the behavior of a sulking child than an adult; a sulking child who wants his way in all things.  One wonders if he actually indulges in infantile tantrums.  It doesn’t take much to imagine him hurling White House china against a White House wall, kicking the dog, ripping up pictures of his political opponents.  It probably hasn’t happened, but one doesn’t need much to imagine it.

Were he mine (my child that is) I would take the strap to him, and make him stand in the corner…or perhaps spend an hour or two in a bare closet. This is not an evil man, or a bad man. This is a spoiled and wicked child. I wonder, now, whether in years to come…when I will, God willing, be dead and finished with such stupidities as his (and everyone else’s in DC)…I wonder whether someone who saw him day in and day out will write about the dishes he broke, the furniture he tore up, the dogs he kicked during his childish and cruel snits. What a lamentably poor example he gives us of a “leader”.

Perhaps, and I have no way of knowing whether or not this is the case (and even less do I know if someone is smart enough to have thought of it), perhaps part of the Republican strategy included showing the venality and mean-spiritedness of the Obama Administration (and of the man himself). If so, they have done a masterful job of it. Open air war memorials, private business in or near public parks, the ocean(!!!???) closed or threatened to be closed. Religious services to the military forbidden and priests and ministers threatened with arrest. Tourists threatened with arrest for “trespassing” on public lands, among whom are elderly, frail and crippled veterans who may not live to get another chance to visit a place. Food stores on military bases closed. Sports shows to troops in combat stopped. These actions make Richard Nixon seem like someone’s kind and loving Grandpa, a seat of wisdom and cause for joy. It borders on totalitarianism.

Of course there is more than enough of stupidity on the other side of the dispute in this case, and more than enough arrogance. But no matter how one may wish it, that does not make it so that the Obama Administration, and ultimately the President himself, are not the ones responsible for such ill willed practices as I mentioned above, and for no reason it seems other than spite and a kind of vicious contempt. They are, and he, ultimately, is, no matter how cool and distant he appears to be, playing the hand dealt him by others he’d like us to see as slick gamblers and cheaters.  That makes him a fool.

What does it advance to do those things? Who benefits? I’d rather a few golf courses be closed than food stores on military bases; a few lunch rooms in government buildings shuttered and cooks sidelined than houses of worship and their ministers threatened with jail, a few art museums locked than memorials to dead and living heroes blockaded.  I suspect the majority of the people in the country would readily agree.  This has become a worldwide embarrassment.

I am not on the other side of this thing. Neither Republican, Democrat, Liberal nor Tea party am I. I’m just one of the gob smacked millions wondering what the hell is going on down there, and not a little appalled by what we see. There ain’t nothing “masterful” about telling the truth.  And truth is, Pilgrims, that truth is a commodity in short supply on the shores of the Potomac.

Oh, yes, and while this goes on, and the Chinese prepare to foreclose on our mortgage and dispossess all 350,000,000 of us, including illegals, Benghazi, where an invasion of US territory took place, and an Ambassador was murdered along with three brave men…remains forgotten.

We Choose to Save

“In the face of those who would visit death upon innocents, we will choose to save and to comfort and to heal.” Barack H. Obama, President of the United States of America, at the Cathedral of the Holy Cross, Boston, MA, April 17, 2013

On September 5, 1935 the Laws for the Protection of German Blood and German Honour, the Nuremburg Laws, became the law of the land in Germany.  The effect of the passage of these laws was to make Jews, Gypsies, and a number of other racial or ethnic groups added later administratively to the original two, un-persons who really had no rights.  They paved the way for the death camps that followed only a few years later.

In her book “Eichmann In Israel”, which carries the subtitle “A Report on the Banality of Evil”, Hannah Arendt devotes some small part of her time explaining how the Nazis got the Jewish people to cooperate in their extermination.  One reads the sections so devoted with a sense of incredulity only “looking back” can give.  There actually were some Jews who believed they were better off living as a people apart in the middle of the rest of the Reich.  Jews had been treated as second class citizens since January 1933 when Hitler beacme Chancellor of Germany.  From April to October, laws barring Jews from holding positions in the civil service, in legal and medical professions, and in teaching and university positions were pushed through. Boycotts of Jewish-owned shops and businesses and book burnings of writings by Jews and by others not approved by the Reich took place.

While Nazi antisemitic legislation and propaganda against “Non-Aryans” was a thinly disguised attack against anyone who had Jewish parents or grandparents, still there was a certain haphazard and uneveness to it all . Arendt writes about the growing awareness that more organization, tighter control was needed.  Things needed to be tightened up.  All of the many laws and regulations about race, racial purity, inferior types and racial protection, and the various agencies regulating such things needed to be consolidated.  Soon enough, it happened.

Arendt writes that after the Nuremberg Laws were issued in 1935, and Jews had been stripped of political but not civil rights, the situation was felt to have been stabilized.

Now, at least they knew what the situation was, Arendt explains.  There had long been Jewish organizations, civic clubs and fraternal groups, and a thing called a Reichsvertretung, an umbrella group of all the Jewish organizations in Germany, which had not been ordered int0 existence by the Nazis.  They set about accommodating the Jews to the “facts on the ground.”   Even as a second class citizens, one could be quite comfortable in Germany.  That was the feeling.  When the Nazis began to force Jews to emigrate, these organizations and their members willingly cooperated in the program and the policy.  They “generally believed that a modus vivendi would be possible; they even offered to cooperate in the ‘solution of the Jewish question’.”

Arendt goes on to say with no little irony, I think, that when Eichmann became the center of that “solution” Jewish leaders of all kinds, “assimilationists” and Zionists alike, talked “in terms of a great ‘Jewish revival’ and a great constructive movement in German Jewry.”  There were, she says, “still quarrels among themselves in ideological terms about the desirability of Jewish emigration.”  She concludes this sentence ominously by adding a short phrase: “as though this depended on their own decisions.” (Arendt, “Eichmann in Jerusalem”, Viking Press, 1967, p. 40)

We know that very soon these same Jewish leaders were fully cooperating with their Nazi masters in the murder of millions; assembling them by the trains and preparing them for death.

On Januray 22, 1973, the US Supreme Court decided Roe v. Wade and announced their decision to the nation.  Its effect was to declare the unborn child in its mother’s womb to be not a person, with no rights, and thus give pregnant women the right to abort theese non-persons if they so chose —  at any time and for any reason.  Since that time more than 50 million people have been killed.

I went looking for Arendt’s book and comments when I became aware of the news blackout regarding Kermit Gosnell, the “doctor” on trial in Philadelphia now, charged with the murder of at least one of his patients and of at least seven infants born alive.  In fact there were more, many more, casualties of both kinds.  These were simply the ones which could be easily proven in court.

From what I have been able to read about Gosnell and his practice, such as it was, filth is too good a word to describe the conditions in which he operated, cruelty too soft a word to describe the kind of treatment he provided, and victims too kind a word for the poor people who came within his grasp.

Yet he was respected.  He enjoyed a certain popularity.  He was looked up to in the community he “served”.  Himself an African-American, the vast majority of his victim-patients were African-American. The way he operated reminds me of Rudolph Hoess, Commandant of Auschwitz, who also had the law behind him.

Of course you know that his medical “practice” was in the area of “Women’s Health”, a code word for abortion.  And, except for one or two stories lately in perhaps a half dozen major newspapers and TV news outlets not a word has been said about what Gosnell is charged with doing, how he did it or why.  Those few words that have been said, have been said in self-defense by the major news machines, and, not too very subtly, to blame the atrocities Gosnell committed on his pregnant victims and the living, defenseless “products of conception” that fell victim to his malevolence, to blame it all on those who want to end legalized abortion.  In a sense, they seek to blame the victim for the crime.  Had really good care been available they argue and bloviate, then women would not have had to submit to Gosnell’s cruetlies.

Well, “really good care” was available from Planned Parenthood within an hour’s drive of Gosnell’s Mengelian death clinic.  That clinic, too, was recently closed and prosecutors are preparing charges for operations that sound chillingly gosnellian.

There is nothing new about that.  Planned Parenthood clinics are regularly shut down because of their slipshod practices, their filth, their unlicensed personnel, their lack of care.  But who, in Hell, would expect to be treated well or with compassion?  One goes there to kill.  Kindness and killing don’t mix well.  Care and killing are opposed.  Sooner or later kindness and care leave, are pushed aside for the pleasures of killing, the need to kill.  Care costs, takes time.  Killing is easy.

Besides, why waste care on those unworthy of it, the under classes.

This last is, really, the reason that Planned Parenthood exists, despite all their rhetoric about women’s health.  The people who founded Planned Parenthood are, likethe Nazis, perfecters of the breed.  “Bring us your poor, your weak, your defective, your congenital idiots and deformed, and we will kill them for you.  Often we will kill you in the bargain.  Then we will be perfect and free.”

You will understand my confusion, I think, when I learned a few days ago that the wife of the US AG, owns a building which houses an abortion clinic.   “What!!??” I exclaimed to the empty room when I came across the article on the internet.  From the ether came the answer, “Don’t you see, Peter, how necessary this is?”  Well, no, I was a little doubtful why the US Ag, who is black, and his wife, who is black, should be hosts to an abortion facility which caters primarily to black women.  Do you doubt the last statement?  Then please look at the picture in the ad for the Old National GYN and come to your own conslusions.  I was interested to find out from spending a little time there at the site that no one is named.  You wouldn’t know anyone even worked there, except something called board certified physicians.

Here is a link to an excellent article article about Mr. and Mrs. Holder’s Little Wayside Abortuary.  As the article says, it explains a lot.

The place looks nice on Google, so I can’t tell if it’s been decorated with gosnellian attention to decor; if baby bits and precious bodily fluids and cat crap are artfully placed and displayed.  But I was interested to know that Eric and the Mrs. are in on a place whose last operator has been indicted in by the feds in Atlanta for going south with 300 large in medicaid funds he fraudulently billed.  That is felony weight anywhere.  And, Eric has the case.  I’m sure he’ll do a good job, aren’t you?

I cannot remember if Eichmann In Jerusalem mentions at all the millions of dollars, the jewels and art work, the fillings and hair, that the SS and all the other nazi murderers harvested from the Jews they killed all those years ago.  “What does it matter, now?” a recent Secretary of State might angrily squawk.  Indeed.  But, I do know that Gosnell has gotten rich killing babies and the occasional poor woman.

Please don’t get the wrong idea, here about Eric and Kermit the Impaler.  I don’t want anyone to think they are the same kind of fools as were the leaders of the Jewish communities in Germany who cooperated with their Nazi killers.  Those tortured souls really had their backs against the wall, though that is no excuse for their actions.

No, there is no government or any of its agencies, no maniacal ruler here in these Untied States intent on eradicating a whole race, and whole classes of people.

What we have is Barack H. Obama, for at least the next three some odd years,  Oh, and Kathleen Sebellius, the token white woman.  With friends like these, black folks don’t need enemies.

In order for me to make some sense of that statement I’ll return to Arendt and her wearisome story of evil in a crisp uniform.  But before I do that, allow me to get rid of this little factoid I stumbled across.  For every 1,000 black children born in this country, 1400 are aborted.

Anyway, Arendt tells the story of one of these Jewish officials, a fellow named Kastner in Hungary or one of those eastern European countries whose cooperation was needed by Eichmann.  She mentioned that Eichmann liked most to deal with Zionists, they were idealists, and Kastner was a Zionist.  According to Arendt, Eichmann himself was an “idealist”, which for him meant a person who would do anything in service of his “ideal”, no matter what was required.  This Jewish fellow was a man like that.

Eichmann wanted a nice orderly removal of Jews to Auschwitz.  This fellow cut a deal with him.  In exchange for a trainload of a couple of thousand of the right type of Jews in one direction out of the country…safe passage…the guy guaranteed a docile herd of a few hundred thousand Jews waiting patiently for the one way trip to Auschwitz.  The people given a ride out of hell were all Zionists; Eichmann’s right kind of Jew, the ones who didn’t want to be there.  For them, though Arendt doesn’t say it, what’s the loss of a few hundred thousand lower class no accounts.

It is a fact that Obama, a black man, is fervently “pro-choice”.  In other words he believes in abortion.  He has said as much regarding his own children, and he has spoken against laws which would restrict abortion; especially late term abortions, the kind of abortions tailor made for gosnellian horrors .

It is a fact that though they account for 13% of the population, black women make up nearly 40% of those who have abortions.  It is a fact that Planned Parenthood abortion facilities are predominently located in or near black and lower class neighborhoods.

One might reasonably conclude from his words and actions that our president is an Eichmannian idealist regarding abortion as an agent for change in the black community particularly and throughout the country.  Abortion at any time and for any reason advances his agenda because it erodes family structures and makes for a population ever more dependent on government, and supportive of its policies and positions.  Certainly, he has not used his considerable influence among the leaders of the abortion industry and within the black community to diminish either abortion’s popularity or its availability.  His Obamacare, is obviously designed to further increase the ease with which black women abort.  And, everyone else, too.

Among a lot of other distasteful “changes” being put into place, that’s race hatred by another name! But it stinks just as much.

Holder??  He’s a Renfield to Obama’s Dracula.

“In the face of those who would visit death upon innocents, we will choose to save and to comfort and to heal.”

When the lights are on, and the cameras rolling.


Somewhere around this time last year, as Mitt Romney was in the third year of his second run for the presidency, and the Republican field had been narrowed to the population of several states from a number just a few short of infinity I decided that it might be necessary actually to vote for someone who existed, who was a real person.  And so, I thought about voting for Mr. Romney, tall, handsome, smart and honest.

I had not voted for a human being in the last two elections; choosing instead to vote for Michael Mouse.  I had even dreamed up a slogan for the little fellow’s campaign: MY MAN IS A MOUSE!  I spoke to my friends, and may have convinced one or two of them (which would have been, possibly, more than I had of friends) to join in with me and promote MM’s run for the highest office in the land.

But, then, I listened to other voices, people whose powers of persuasion moved me to reconsider my position.  “It is silly,” they said, “you are just throwing away your vote by going into that booth and writing in the name of a cartoon character.  It is a senseless and meaningless gesture.”  I tried to argue that given the man occupying that office (who still occupies it) , and the fellow who had occupied it during the previous eight years, and the line -up of opponents/prospective candidates available, voting for someone who was a cartoon character seemed to me to make more sense than anything else.


In the end I caved, flipped a coin, sort of, and settled on Mr. America.  I guess I was thinking of that old song by the Coasters, “Along Came Jones”, and hoping he would get elected and rescue Sweet Sue (that’s us) from the gunslinger.

Little did I know that I should have stuck with Mickey.  At least I wouldn’t feel as if I had wasted a vote.  Because the word filtering out from the folks who know is that Old Mitt didn’t want the job anyway.  He tanked it.  And, we know from sad experience that the guy who has the job really doesn’t exist.  Oh, I mean he is there, all right, but he really has no idea about running a country, or doing much else than “chooming”, organizing a community (whatever in God’s name that is) or body surfing; or standing around while Ambassadors and other guys get murdered…and then not saying word one about it because the “investigation ” is still going on.  I mean his most common vote anywhere was “present”.  Well brain dead people are “present” too.  So are ghosts according to some folks.

Turns out they both stink.  If fact, they all stink, from Chicago Slim in the White House right down to the most junior jerk in the House of Representatives;  where about the only thing they represent is their own wallet, I think.

Anyway, I’m back on The Mouse’s bandwagon and there I intend to stay.  This morning I was having a cup of Joe with the Little Lady down at the local Dunkin’ Donuts.  There were a couple of old guys over in the corner jawing about the, how many, damn near 500 stupid and selfish men and women we send down to DC  to do nothing much good to or for anyone, and one of them says, “I’m 73 years old and I don’t think I am ever going to vote for another person for anything again.  I’m just going to go into the booth and scribble down a name, any name.”

My heart leaped!  If two old and nearly useless guys like him and me can have the same idea, what would it look like if 30 or 40 million of us went behind the curtain and did the same thing; if no one was elected, if the country actually followed the predictions of the polls and said, “None of the above?”  For anything, even School Board President, Dogcatcher, Registrar of Probate, President?

Because, you know, none of the folks there now seem to want to do anything at all about anything, and the guy we just sent back to the Oval Office hasn’t got the faintest idea about what needs doing, except that we need more money to do it.

Actually, I take that back.  It seems that one person does have a good idea, which idea won’t see the light of day down there.  The junior Senator from New Hampshire, Kelly Ayotte says all of those dopes don’t deserve a pay raise because they haven’t done anything for it.  That’s the first bit of sensible thinking I’ve heard come out of that swamp in about 12 years.

Now, if only they would return all the rest of the money we’ve given them for the past 12 years I might reconsider my support for The Mouse.  I know all of that dough might make our fall from the cliff just a little bit softer, turn it into a kind of velvety “smoosh” rather than a granite hard “SPLAT” when we hit bottom.

One thing that can be said for The Mouse is that at least he works cheap; a couple of nibbles of cheese now and then and he’s good for a week.

The Sheepul Vote (A Short Pastoral Fable)

The dictionary has something to say, here.  The definition of complaisance in one of the sources I checked is this: com·plai·sance (k m-pl s ns, -z ns) n. The inclination to comply willingly with the wishes of others; amiability. complaisance [kəmˈpleɪzəns] n

Sheep and cattle are complaisant.  As long as the grass is green and no wolves wander near, they are content to stand, even in the rain, outdoors and munch, moving only when the grass might grow too short, or the piles of ordure they produce a little too high.  From time to time the tender ones are carted off to “somewhere”.  No one of them left behind really notices or cares very much what that means for them.

The grass is green.

The shepherd’s whistle pierces the still air and the dogs are let in upon them, to run them here or there.  But, the sheep know.  The promise always is greener grass beyond the next gate.  This has been the way.  Always forward.

The shepherd never lies.  So the sheep willingly obey.  And, from time to time the tender ones are carted off to “somewhere”.  No one looks up.  The grass is green.

Soon, they will go forward once more, their slow ramble from green bit to green bit temporarily interrupted by the shepherd’s whistle, the little dogs busy  at their backs and the frenzied nip at the slackers.

But the grass is always greener there, wherever there may be.  The sheep neither know nor care.  That the shepherd knows, and that is enough.  Did the sheep once know?  It is too much to think about.

The grass is always greener after the sheep have gone forward..

And, the way is downhill.  Going forward is always easier when the direction is down.

Too late, alas.  The cliff.  Too late.

One , the last, turns before the plunge into darkness, and sees.  There was no grass at all.  The dogs smile.  The shepherd lied.

But the sheep have been complaisant.  They have been willing.  They believed, if it can be said that sheep are able to believe.  Some few may have even thought they were making a good choice.  And why not?  Every time they moved it was forward.  It was green.  It was down.

It was down.

Every change they made was a change to a better place.

Until the cliff.

“We believed unto death,” cry the sheep falling.


Now, I will beat you on the head until it hurts.

From the Catechism of the Catholic Church:

Every word or attitude is forbidden which by flattery, adulation, or complaisance encourages and confirms another in malicious acts and perverse conduct. Adulation is a grave fault if it makes one an accomplice in another’s vices or grave sins. Neither the desire to be of service nor friendship justifies duplicitous speech. Adulation is a venial sin when it only seeks to be agreeable, to avoid evil, to meet a need, or to obtain legitimate advantages.

But, what is it when it leads to debt, weakness and death?

To whom do children in our schools now sing?  Whose face appears on our flag? To whom do the sheep-like look for their “things”?  Who promises them greener pastures?

How close is the cliff?  Can you see its edge?

Dogs’ nipping.

Joe Blow and Sportin’ LIfe

George Weigel is a very smart fellow, a brilliant fellow I’d say, and always worth paying attention to. He always has something useful, something thoughtful to say, and his insights and observations, here at the bottom of this short “ramble on a theme by Weigel”, are both enlightening and helpful.

You see, he writes a little about Joe Biden in his article, and as I read it a thought occurred to my mind once again which had occurred before.  I have been thinking about Vice President Joe Biden, the former Senator from Delaware, the kid from Scranton who never really left tough town.  I’ve followed this Mr. Malaprop for a few years, now, and been by turns embarrassed for him and for the country, and angry.  Sometimes, back when he was a Senator, I would find myself wondering about the average IQ of the people who voted for him, who put him into office and kept him there year after embarrassing year.

I came to think of him, as he rose through the ranks of the Senate into positions of leadership, and then became a candidate for president some years ago, as a kind of thug, or perhaps merely a drunk, an out of control drunk; the kind of guy who likes a good fight after several boilermakers.  The kind of guy who starts the fight and never wins one, but nevertheless thinks he’s a hell of a tough guy.  In other words, a jerk.  Then I wondered about the people with whom he worked, his peers in Congress and in the Democratic Party, and wondered what motivated them to put up with, to “follow” this character from a bad 1940’s low budget comedy, this potato head with hair plugs?

It is a question I think I may have found the answer to, finally. For me, anyway, it seems to fit on some weird cosmic joke kind of level.  It explains how Joe (not Joseph) Biden, who is really a cartoon character right out of Loony Tunes, has been endured all of these years.  He is meant to be the Vice President in an Obama administration.  A more perfect fit could not be found in the world; in the universe.

You see, I think Joe Biden serves the same kind of role in the Obama administration that Stepin Fetchit served in the films in which he appeared way long ago, a dimwit good only for a laugh.  The fellow whose stage name was Stepin Fetchit, Lincoln Perry, was actually a pretty intelligent man who parlayed his stereotype into becoming the first black actor to be a millionaire.  But Joe Biden, who is by no means the brightest bulb on the tree, could not do that.  He has been a comic foil, and perhaps a backroom bouncer, who knows, all these years.  In a strange and shivering way his loud mouthed,  stumble bum, Ralph Cramden persona does serve a purpose, has served a purpose for all of the crooks and cronies, the boozers and bamboozlers we have had to endure down there in the SOG.  With a Joe Blow around, why even a Nancy Pelosi looks good..

Why then should he not be the perfect foil for Sportin’ Life, our current president.  The two of them would be a great vaudeville act, and I sometimes wonder if that isn’t what our government isn’t really all about. the longest running sit-com with the highest production cost of any program ever, West Wing with a laugh track.

Only I ain’t laughing.  I’m damn near tears.

Anyway, read Mr. Weigel’s brief reflection which contains the truth about Joe- Blow Biden.

Final Word On the Benghazi FUBAR

I have just been handed the final intelligence report from my agent on the ground, Ali Ibn Bibbin Ben Stein, an Israeli Arab PhD from Penn State who works for an American oil company and doubles as a triple agent of Mossad, the CIA and Walmart.  I include it below in full:


I suppose you’re wondering what I’ve been doing since 9/11 over here.  Well, I did have a few busy days.  When all of that stuff hit the fan that night I was just finishing up a nice meal with Achmed Lagattuta (There are a lot of half breeds in Libya.  After all it was conquered by Mussolini back in the day) where I finalized a deal to open the first Walmart in Benghazi.  They won’t allow any overweight or toothless people in underwear to shop, but we can get along with that.  It’s some violation of Sharia, I think.

I know that you’re really interested in finding out what really happened that night.  Here is the straight scoop.  At about 9:00PM, just as we were finishing our second orange crush, Akky’s iPhone rang.  His ring tone is a nice tune by the Libyan cutie, Moobar Goofootammy called “I love My Chickens”.  I only heard his side of the conversation, but Akky was by turns disturbed and excited by what he heard on the other end of the line.  The call took only about a minute and when he hung up Akky looked me straight in the eye and said,

“That was my good friend Vance.  Well we all call him Vance cause he liked the guy who played Vance for a couple of seasons on The Dukes of Hazzard.  He’s the only guy in Benghazi with a bushy black beard and his hair dyed blond.  The Mullah Abdullah don’t like it, but Vance can get a pick-up mounted 50 caliber machine gun and a crew of 20 or 30 bomb wearing potential martyrs into places you wouldn’t think of taking your best goat.  Mullahs, even this one, make allowances.”

I smelled something big happening and wanted to know more.  If I’d paid more attention I would have recognized the smell as a mixture of cordite and burning cars.  But there’d been a lot of that recently in town.

Akky continued, “Vance said that he’s loading up the pick-up with a few thousand rounds and picking up some of his buddies down at the gym behind the mosque where they keep all their weapons and ammo.  They got them a bunch of RPGs the US dropped off after we zotzed Ghaddafi, so we could “restore order”.  Then they’re gonna go out to the edge of town and do a little night firing.”

The fellas like to go our there and blow old cars apart, I’ve since learned.  It’s kind of like some guys I know back here go out in the woods, or down to the gun club and shoot at plunk at paint cans and beer bottles.

“You want another orange crush,” I offered, and Akky nodded.  I signaled for the waiter, a medical student at Edinburgh University studying to be a Neurologist, to bring us another two crushes.  Then Akky continued, “He laughed when I said, “Oh.”  “Nah,” he said to me, “they’re gonna go over and take out the US Consulate.   Just kidding.”

We both laughed at the thought of that.  I mean most of these guys had gone to school in the States and some even had girl friends they hoped to bring over here some day, or marry and move there.  I’d seen the iPhotos they all had taken of them with the Seals and Special Forces guys on the ground here a few weeks ago, smiling and holding up bottles of Coke, or Molotov Cocktails.

“Listen, ” Akky said, as we finished our oranges, “Lance invited me to tag along and take some vids and photos of the fun tonight.  You want to come?”  “No, ” I replied, “I think I’m gonna go back to my tent and watch some “Little House” re-runs.”

A couple of minutes later, Lance pulled up in his pickup in front of the place.  There were about fifteen guys in the back and another four or five in the cab with him.  I knew he was coming from about three blocks away because of all the noise the AK-47s were making.  As he parked, one of the guys in the back swung the 50 in our direction and took down a young palm tree.  I said to Akky, “Wow!  These guys are really juiced tonight.”  “Yeah,” he answered,” they got a few soles of really good Afghani hash in this afternoon.”

The guy who had the camel rental deal out front was hopping mad because the tree fell on one of his camels.  Lance got out of the pick-up and walked over.  He made a deal not to kill the guy and gave him a half a sole of hash for the dead camel, a young one.  “That’ll make some good soup,” he said as they tied it to the back of the pick-up.

Akky stood up, got his camera, and ran out to join Lance and the other kids at the pick-up.  “Sure you don’t want to come?” he yelled as he got in the back.  I waved him on and they took off, firing the 50, letting go a few RPGs at the houses still standing, the camel bouncing along behind the truck, swinging from left to right behind it as they swerved to avoid the wrecked cars in the street.

A few minutes later, I walked over the the guy at the camel stump and rented a ride home.

I had just gone to sleep after finishing Season 2 of “Little House” when my phone rang.  It was Akky.  “Hey, Akky,” I said “Make any more holes in the desert?”  “Desert?” He yelled in an excited voice.  “We just blew the American Consulate to hell and back and offed the Ambassador and a few guards.  They never knew what hit ’em.  Man it was Rambo In The Sand tonight!”

“You what!” I exclaimed, wide awake.  “Are you guys nuts?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice calmer now.  “No one was hurt.  And besides, I just got the feed from CNN.  Some doofus in the States , the guy who made that dumb Mohammed thing we were all laughing at the other night, is taking all of the heat for the thing.  Moohmhar just got a call from his girl, Shirley, in Ohio.  She said the guy will probably go to jail.”

“No kidding,” I said.  “Yeah,” Akky went on, ” and one of the guys, when he called his brother down in Yemen, the one who’s a pirate, this guy said his brother’s thinking of gettin’ a few of his buddies to go trash a few embassies down there.”

“Well,” I said, “thanks for the call, but I gotta get some sleep.”  “Oh, O.K.,” he answered, “sorry to wake you up.  But I really called to ask a question.  You don’t think this will have any effect on the Walmart deal, or interfere with some of these guys going back to school do you?”  I thought about that for a few seconds and then answered, “Nah, why should it.  They got the guy who caused it all, didn’t they?  Anybody asks any of you about it, just tell them you were there to help.”

“Yeah, that’s what we figured to do.”  he hung up, and I went back to sleep.  A couple of days later we all got together for some camel soup and a few laughs.

See you in Panama City at Spring Break,