As a country boy with six years of formal schooling, I am hardly the one to question the role of intellectuals in politics; however, after reading an article by Gary Gutting in the New York Times, I am reminded of a university professor who asked me to help him with a mule problem.

I love mules, but you must be careful with a mule, they can kick with lethal force if they feel they have been offended. Since most of my career with horses has been directed more toward sorting out human problems, rather than equine problems, I was a little apprehensive at the prospect of trying to help this professor and his mule. To be honest, professors tend to be among the least capable in matters dealing with animals and simple everyday problems. Problems that men of humble origins and trades can often solve with little or no deliberation, often baffle learned men, who tend to struggle with theory and morality rather than simple and obvious solutions.

In my youth, I helped several professors who wanted to be closer to the past and nature by owning and riding a horse. Fair enough, everyone needs an excuse for owning these expensive beasts, and seeking some elemental force of nature, makes as much sense as the rest of the excuses. However, mules often have a proclivity for exacting revenge on the human race for perceived injustices of a past life; therefore, I believe, mules are best handled by bona fide mule men, not university professors living in nineteenth century log houses, who want to get in touch with their roots (human not tree), but I heard a calling to help my fellow man and I saw an opportunity to make a few bucks.

I rode my Triumph motorcycle out through the country and enjoyed the colors of fall. I marveled at the beauty of the hardwood leaves after the frosts had killed them, and arrived at the professor’s farm with more than a little trepidation for what might lay ahead, hoping I wouldn’t end up like the colorful leaves.

The professor was glad to see me and dropped the standard pretensions of a tenured professor with condescension for all those who speak with country accents and wear cowboy boots. He seemed to be almost childlike in his excitement at my presence. He was proud of his farm, a former homestead, it was over 150 years old. Some poor homesteader had put his whole life into this 160 acres, a quarter section that at best, could barely yield forty bushels of topsoil an acre, it had never grown a decent crop and today it was a struggle to grow a garden, but it had once again, grown another crop of hard wood trees. But the professor owned it now, and it was a beautiful farm, despite not having crops or pasture.

He showed me, his log barn, his fine harness carriage, his buckboard, and his mule Emily. It was a match made in heaven; he loved the mule and the mule loved him. Emily was a mule that had never been abused by cruel hands and she was a model citizen. I had worried over problems that didn’t exist.

While the professor gushed over his mule and his farm, I began to wonder why I had been summoned to this farm. Everything seemed perfect, far better than most equine situations I am called to visit. The professor finally had to take a break in his speech to catch his wind and I asked why he needed me.

He apologized and said,”I need you to raise the front door of the barn.”

I was once known as a guy who could or at least try to do anything around a farm or ranch, but this seemed like ann odd request. It was an old square log barn and had large blocks of limestone located in strategic spots for a foundation. It was a good system, but not really designed to last a 150 years; the blocks had settled a little deeper every spring during the rains, and now the barn was a little lower than normal, but still high enough to function well. I tried to tell the professor the height of the lintel was well within the realm of reason, but he was agitated that I couldn’t grasp the seriousness of the problem.

He said I would need to see the problem myself, and put a halter with a lead shank on Emily and led her through the front door of the barn. I’ve only worked with thirty or forty mules, so I don’t really know if this is typical mule behavior, but when she walked through the door, she carried her ears straight up and rubbed them against the oak lintel of the door. As a horseman, I have been asked to deal with some bizarre problems, but this didn’t really seem to be a serious problem.

When I told the professor my feelings, he was incredulous, “Don’t you realize, she will wear the hair off her ears.” He showed me a vague strip of wear on the front of her ears. I wasn’t totally convinced that the perceived wear of the mule’s ears and the lintel were related, but some arguments aren’t really worth getting started.

I explained that the lintel over the door of the well made dove tailed barn was a special log, chosen for its strength, grain, and straightness. If I sawed into the log, we might be inviting trouble by compromising strength at a critical spot, that spot being the span over the door.

He was lost in deep thought over this information being added and causing complications to this unique predicament. I broke the silence by saying, “There is a much easier solution.”

With a look of incredulous exasperation, he twisted his lips to the side of his face, to hear my solution, “I can dig a trench about eight inches deep in the dirt beneath the door.”

He looked at me like I was an idiot and said, “It’s not her damn feet I’m worried about, it’s her ears.”

This professor considered himself an intellectual, and to him, I was but a mere tradesman of mortal lineage. True to the myopia of philosophy, his only concern was the ears of the mare, and he was determined to reach a conclusion by employing critical thinking: I was limited, by nature of an inferior intellect to solutions not based in theory and critical thinking, but to those related to real and practical solutions.

Mr Gutting is a professor of philosophy at Notre Dame; and is convinced of the superiority of critical thinking, but fails to mention the utter failure of the Obama Administration, an administration made up exclusively of critical thinkers from academia. Yet, after this stark demonstration of dismal failure by critical thinkers, we are supposed to be reassured by Mr Gutting’s self-serving arrogance, that seeks to legitimize a personal image of importance, after all, he writes for The Stone, “A forum for contemporary philosophers on issues both timely and timeless.”

With unabashed arrogance, Gary assures us of his intelligence, by informing us that he is among the most august of critical thinkers, “I’m an intellectual myself”; it’s just possible, that within this particular oxymoronic phrase, may be a clue to this deviant personality that is currently running amuck in government and in a permanent state of denial as to the charges of incompetence and corruption. Denial has become more than a river in Egypt, it is an endemic example of hubris among the not so bright intellectuals, currently in serving in the Obama Administration, who are teetering above the abyss of failure and humiliation.

From the nimble but dull fingers of Gutting and the pages of the NYT:

What is an intellectual? In general, someone seriously devoted to what used to be called the “life of the mind”: thinking pursued not instrumentally, for the sake of practical goals, but simply for the sake of knowing and understanding. Nowadays, universities are the most congenial spots for intellectuals, although even there corporatism and careerism are increasing threats.

It is such a joy, to read of someone describing himself as an intellectual, who writes with such finesse and precision. I am reminded of a cowardly man doing battle with a bed of rattle snakes while armed with a grub hoe. After reading this pregnant phrase of many vectors, “someone seriously devoted to what used to be called the” it’s obvious that intellectuals aren’t required or expected to write well. For reference, we know Hemingway was the master of the simple and concise sentence, and Melville was a genius with the complex double and triple entente; may we assume Gary Gutting is the champion of lost and bewildered adverbial phrases.

It would be easy enough to eviscerate Gary Gutting on the merits of his writing ability and embarrass him in front of his peers and anyone else who can read, but it is his message we seek. For if there is a protasis within this fart, stumble, fall style of writing, it evades the reader. For while his prose delights the ear of those who crave the mundane and boring, his adverbs assault our dignity in a relentless pursuit of relevance, but like the dog chasing its tail, his periphrasis becomes his catharsis. Relating to Aristotle, in Chapter VI of Poetics, “Tragedy through pity and fear effects a purgation of such emotions.”

Gary Gutting is primarily concerned with Newt or more precisely, fear of Newt. Newt is a bit of a problem for Leftists; oh fear not, they have excess baggage charges and they are ready to confront and dun him for back payments, but that is not the strategic issue. The prospect of an empty suit engaging Newt in debate is the terrifying issue. Oh dear, it brings to mind the great defeats of history, Stalingrad, Waterloo, The Little Big Horn. There is always the excitement of the contest beforehand, and the first few minutes when hope still springs eternal, before that same hope becomes a forlorn hope, but it is only a matter of time, before they are faced with the inevitable prospect of annihilation and utter defeat.

How best to neutralize the prospect of a witless pseudo-intellectual champion being embarrassed in the arena of ideas and indirectly casting aspersions toward all those who say with arrogance and condescension, “I’m an intellectual myself”; there is a simple solution, impress upon everyone, that intellectualism is a collective team effort of critical thought and that is how ignorance must be defeated. One man can’t be expected to lead a country; he needs a gaggle clueless intellectuals.

Unfortunately, Newt doesn’t need a team for a debate or a teleprompter, and pitting him against a fool who seems to be bewildered without his faithful teleprompter, will be like slaughtering lambs in an abattoir. A scene that doubtless will cause even the most cold blooded Socialist to admit the futility of resisting the epiplexis of a Newt/Hussein comedic tragedy.

Poor Gary, in an attempt to establish credibility as an intellectual and advance his vague aphorisms, he tries to use the obligatory and token reference to poor Plato, a man who understood the inherent weakness of adverbs and relied as little as possible on the ancients for guidance. We can assume that Gary not only understands the Cliff Notes version of Plato, but he is not afraid or reluctant to employ a deluge of adverbs.

In his “Republic,” Plato put forward the ideal of a state ruled by intellectuals who combined comprehensive theoretical knowledge with the practical capacity for applying it to concrete problems. In reality, no one has theoretical expertise in more than a few specialized subjects, and there is no strong correlation between having such knowledge and being able to use it to resolve complex social and political problems. Even more important, our theoretical knowledge is often highly limited, so that even the best available expert advice may be of little practical value. An experienced and informed non-expert may well have a better sense of these limits than experts strongly invested in their disciplines. This analysis supports the traditional American distrust of intellectuals: they are not in general highly suited for political office.

We now know that in a politically correct world, we need intellectuals to prescribe correct thinking and appreciation; otherwise, we might lose ourselves in original thought processes.

Intellectuals tell us things we need to know: how nature and society work, what happened in our past, how to analyze concepts, how to appreciate art and literature. They also keep us in conversation with the great minds of our past. This conversation may not, as some hope, tap into a source of enduring wisdom, but it at least provides a critical standpoint for assessing the limits of our current cultural assumptions.

Read his entire article if you must, but be prepared to ask yourself why tuition must continue to rise for your children and grandchildren, and will this dubious degree they seek at such expense, teach them to write with the clarity of Gary Gutting or will they be able to maintain the skills they acquired in high school.

But it does not support the anti-intellectualism that tolerates or even applauds candidates who disdain or are incapable of serious engagement with intellectuals. Good politicians need not be intellectuals, but they should have intellectual lives. Concretely, they should have an ability and interest in reading the sorts of articles that appear in, for example, Scientific American, The New York Review of Books, and the science, culture and op-ed sections of major national newspapers — as well as the books discussed in such articles.

It’s often said that what our leaders need is common sense, not fancy theories. But common-sense ideas that work in individuals’ everyday lives are often useless for dealing with complex problems of society as a whole. For example, it’s common sense that government payments to the unemployed will lead to more jobs because those receiving the payments will spend the money, thereby increasing demand, which will lead businesses to hire more workers. But it’s also common sense that if people are paid for not working, they will have less incentive to work, which will increase unemployment. The trick is to find the amount of unemployment benefits that will strike the most effective balance between stimulating demand and discouraging employment. This is where our leaders need to talk to economists.

Knowing how to talk to economists and other experts is an essential skill of good political leaders. This in turn requires a basic understanding of how experts in various fields think and what they might have to offer for resolving a given problem. Leaders need to be intelligent “consumers” of expert opinions.

According to Gary Gutting the intellectual philosopher, our leaders should now, not only be intelligent consumers of intellectual thought but must read the Leftist dogma of Scientific American, the New York Review of Books, and effete pseudo-intellectual rags like the New York Times, but they must also have the ability to listen to monotonous circumlocution and derive a pretense of meaning from gibberish. Intellectuals are now to be elevated to a higher standing, not only in the community, but more importantly in government and leadership. For now, they will advise and direct our leadership so they can make intelligent decisions and we are left with the story of Emily’s ears.

That was the professor’s response to an email that was sent out by his university asking for support in sending out care packages to our troops.

On the opposite side of the opinion spectrum, here’s a Hollywood celebrity who also expresses his feelings toward those who serve and posts the following on his blog [It's so well-worth the read, I can't help but post it here in its entirety] :

To all my family, friends and fans -

I’m writing this out to all of you after attending an event that turned out to be one of the most moving evenings I’ve ever had…

I had the honor and privilege last night of attending The Basic School Instructor Battalion 236th Marine Corps Birthday Ball at the Greater Richmond Convention Center with Corporal Kelsey DeSantis…

I knew I would have an evening that I wouldn’t forget… Something I could tell my friends about. What I didn’t know was how moved I would be by the whole experience.

I’ve always been very vocal about my support of our Armed Forces. I’ve always felt like they offered us the opportunity to live our lives freely without the fear that so many other nations have to endure still to this day. And, they do it without asking for anything in return. I had this very feeling walking into this dinner. So, to say I was stoked to be there would be more than accurate.

As the evening got started, I met Kelsey and we made our way to the ballroom where the Marine Ball was going to be held. I stopped in an area designated as a kind of VIP for some of the officers, I think. I took some photos and shook hands with some of the men and women who take such great care of our freedom. It was nice to be there already.

Then, we moved to the ballroom where the dinner was set up… For a short while, I had the opportunity to sit with Kelsey, get to know her and get a tiny glimpse into what her life as a Marine was like. She talked about her training in mixed martial arts with a passion, a discipline, and a respect. It reminded me of how I hear my favorite athletes talk about their sport or, how I hear my favorites among my peers in music and film talk about their craft.

We sat in this huge ballroom and were the only ones there as, we had beaten the rest of the soldiers who were on their way in. So, we got a decent amount of time to chat before the ceremony started.

She seemed to me to be so humble and honest… Very cool. She also simultaneously seemed like she was nervous about the whole evening and if I was going to enjoy myself. “Are you ok?” she asked 2 or 3 times. “I hope you are having fun. I know you will once my crew of friends get here to the table.” I have to tell you, it’s not every day that I meet a 23 year old girl and she’s more worried about if I’m having fun or if I’m comfortable! It hit me all of a sudden that these were the type of people that look after us and our freedom… Humble, concerned for others before themselves… This was the type of person our Marine Corps was building. I was really blown away.

It seemed like all of a sudden I was surrounded by her great friends and fellow Marines as the closest ones to her made their way to our table. She again assured me that I was going to love all of her friends–that they were a “kick-ass” group of people.

She couldn’t have been more right. I laughed and laughed with all of them almost immediately and felt very close to them… They reminded me of my friends (the ones I like, at least). Cool, un-affected, and real. This was going to be a fun night.

What happened then took me by such surprise that I was almost brought to tears. In fact, our whole table was…

They started the ceremony. And, the next thing I knew I was watching a video about Pearl Harbor/WW2 and the September 11 terrorist attacks… It was a video with some first-hand accounts from some Marines who were there… Telling their stories of the sights and sounds of war and rescue. So vivid and real. So honest but, so filled with a sense of compassion and adoration for this wonderful country. They spoke with a pride that only they could have acquired through their experience as a US Marine. There was a common theme that I began to notice as well… No matter what the situation. No matter how dire…

They were there FIRST.

There on the front lines.

No questions… Just reaction.

While this tribute was playing, you could hear a pin drop. It was a surreal moment to be in that room with so many of our great Marines who have such a different type of connection to those stories. One that we who don’t serve will NEVER understand. It was familial. It was like they were listening to their own blood brothers. I glanced around the room at young men and women, spouses and soldiers… At kids way beyond their years, really… All so deeply entwined. Not just by battle, even though we who have never endured anything remotely close to those experiences and have NO position to comment on… But, by having such life changing experiences through them and to not ever waver in their love and respect for our homeland. That’s what I saw. A faith in us that has been tested time and time again. And, through it all, NEVER a drop of doubt.

I was truly moved.

The evening went on and we ate and took photos and drank and made jokes.

There were some speeches that prompted many “huahs” and applause. There was laughs. We even danced a little.

I felt so proud to be there. I felt like I was getting a chance to be among my heroes. It’s funny too because a lot of them are SO younger than me.

The evening wound down for me as, I had to catch a plane. But, I have to say that I had so much fun with Kelsey and her crew of friends. They were just really nice people… Classy Marines but, not without a great sense of humor. Real individuals but, not without a sense of community.

I said my goodbyes to them but, not before I got a chance to tell them how much the evening had meant to me. They made me feel so welcome to be there and I’ll never forget it.

We all have our own individual views on war… But, doesn’t that speak to just another thing that makes this country so special?? The fact that we can all wake up every morning and BE individual with a pure sense of freedom..? But, one thing that can’t be argued is that it’s because of the people who VOLUNTEER their lives to make sure that it’s protected at all times. And, like I said before, doing so while asking for nothing in return…

To all of you that serve every day for us… Ensuring our freedom, I say: My deepest gratitude to you. I’ve met so many of my heroes… From Michael Jordan to Michael Jackson. And, nothing makes me feel more honor and pride than when I get to meet one of you. Last night changed my life and I will never forget it.

To people like me who get to benefit from this type of person… One with character and courage. With strength and bravery. With humility and honor… I say: Send your thanks. Do it however you can. Write a letter, type an email… Hell, buy ‘em a beer next time you run into someone from our Armed Forces in a bar. When they say thank you for that drink that cost you 3 bucks, they’ll mean it. They won’t take it for granted and, they won’t forget it.

Thank you Corporal Kelsey DeSantis. Thank you for inviting me. And, thank you for being my hero.

- Justin Timberlake

How did this come about? Back in July:

Mila Kunis has set a dangerous, albeit awesome, standard for asking celebrities on dates.

Just days after the actress accepted Sgt. Scott Moore’s YouTube request to attend a Marine Corps ball with him, a female Marine has asked the same of Justin Timberlake.

When Kunis was asked about the viral video invitation by Fox411, Timberlake, her “Friends with Benefits” co-star, demanded she go. “You need to do it for your country,” he told her.

Well now J.T., it’s your turn. Cpl. Kelsey De Santis, who is serving at the Martial Arts Center for Excellence in Quantico, posted her own video to YouTube with a similar request. She would like the “Sexy Back” singer to go to her last Marine Corps Ball in Washington, D.C. this November.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Here’s the Marine video to Mila Kunis:

Click here to view the embedded video.

Here’s Cpl. De Santis’ video to Timberlake:

Click here to view the embedded video.

I haven’t really paid attention to Timberlake’s career. But it’s nice to see those like him who have enjoyed great prosperity show an appreciation to those who make whatever lifestyles we lead possible.

Hat tip: The Michael Medved Show

Richard III, the Bard

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth’d his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

My intellectual mentors were two of the most unlikely characters you can imagine. They were both immigrants to Peace River Country from Europe. They were both well read and primarily self-taught learned men, who knew the classics and were prepared to argue politics, religion, or literature with any man walking the earth.

Todd or Tadeusz Podbereski, a huge Pole who stood six foot six and weighed well over 300 pounds, was a devout Catholic who brooded over Homer’s Illiad and could recite several of Shakespeare’s plays and most of the bible from memory. He could never resist the opportunity to assume the role of Falstaff, Shakespeare’s irreverent, gluttonous, bawdy, profane, drunken, mooching, lying monk: he would abandon his thick Polish accent and employ the overly theatrical method of a Shakespearian actor, in country stores and humble cabins, he’d quote passages that pertained to the daily discourse of almost any situation. Even the most stoic and unromantic watched in silent awe as Todd applied his thespian skills to illustrate an obscure point of conversation.

His protagonist was a former steeple chase jockey from Ireland, Paul Larkin. He had become embittered with the Catholic Church and considered himself a Protestant. He read Melville’s Moby Dick every year at Christmas; he argued the novel characterized all man’s weaknesses and passions. He considered Twain and Hemingway great authors who summed up man’s feeble yet noble existence with two simple but great novels, Huckleberry Finn and For Whom The Bell Tolls. He recited the poetry of Robert Service and often told the stories of Jack London to family groups around a wood stove on cold winter evenings. In those days, a good story teller held an audience like today’s kids watching Star Wars.

Neither man was married and they were both horsemen. Todd drove a vegetable and supply wagon through the back country. If you didn’t have money, Todd would trade for different goods and he had a keen eye for a profit. Nearly everyone conducted business with him, for the entertainment was worth the extra price you paid. If you needed nails or a special tool, the moccasin telegraph usually made it through to Todd and the item would mysteriously be on the wagon, the next time he came through.

Paul was a horse trader and specialized in taking spirited horses that had been spoiled and turning them into good using horses. He made an excellent living and had the best eye for a horse in the whole Peace River Country.

Paul was also known for having the most picturesque and inspiring outhouse on the Peace River. His homestead was on hill, a couple hundred feet above the river. The outhouse was in the shade of a few Poplars and was a three sided building that faced the river, built of rough cut lumber over a trench made with a backhoe it was about twelve feet long and four feet wide. It was an unusual shape for an out house, but the view made it a topic of conversation and nearly everyone who came to visit made an effort to use the famous out house with the spectacular view. Paul kept the outhouse neat and tidy, the structure included a supply of well worn classics for reading on a small bookshelf along the West wall. A Lodge Pole pine rail served as the seat, it was the only seat I had ever seen constructed out of a single rail, at least in a permanent outhouse, the rail was six inches at one end and four and a half at the other end. Lodge pole naturally has a fine scale bark, but this rail had worn exceptionally smooth from countless butts over the years. There was a bucket of ash with a small scoop; the ash was sprinkled lightly over every latest deposit, and for some reason, a chemical reaction reduces the odiferous methane fumes that normally arise from these humble buildings of necessity.

These two men of literature would get together at least once a month at Paul’s place when Todd came by with his team and freighting wagon. I started attending these literary meetings when I was 13: my father had decided it was time for me to be exposed to men of letters. Paul and I both wore moccasins with rubber overshoes. This was standard footwear for horsemen who rode in our area. It was always easier to slip off the overshoes and walk through a house in moccasins than to wear boots and strip them off to walk around in stretched out socks. Paul always made a fuss over Todd’s size 13 gumboots, he called them Ukrainian Marxist Cowboy Boots. Of course Todd would emphasize that his name was that of an aristocratic Pole and not Ukrainian. Of course, the boundaries of the Ukraine had been a political football for centuries and this was merely an opening gambit of a battle of wits that found me in awe at these two intellectual giants.

My muddled concepts of punctuation developed from these conversations and one of the most memorable discussions was of Jesus and some of his final words on the cross: “Verily, I say unto thee, This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise.” This is the Protestant version, it denies the concept of Perdition and whisks the crucified thief straight to Glory with Jesus.

The Catholic Church opted for a different punctuation that indirectly alluded to Purgatory: “Verily, I say unto thee this day, Thou shalt be with me in Paradise.”

It is true, the difference is slight, but it is more than enough for a doctrinal difference; it’s true, wars have been fought over such doctrinal differences, wars that included the slaughter of innocents. If a reader is objective and takes into consideration the fact that the Ancient Hebrew Language, the Aramaic Language, and Early Greek Language (the most likely languages that Jesus may have spoken) all lacked punctuation; it might not have been so advantageous to wage war over such insignificant facts that have no basis; unfortunately, ignorance of a subject is hardly grounds not to have an opinion.

Actually, not until the 15th Century and the advent of printing, did Aldus Manutius the Elder (1450- 1515) and his grandson Aldus Manutius the Younger come up with the unique idea of the modern comma, the full stop or period, italics, and the semi colon. Aldus the Younger declared in 1566 that the function of punctuation was to define syntax. He could have been burned at the stake as a heretic; except, this new concept was extremely useful in written expression.

Thus the stage was set for Shakespeare, perhaps the most prolific of all writers, he was given the opportunity to express himself accurately and to create his magic, only a couple of decades later.

Todd often did a recitation from memory with appropriate gestures while striking poses in front of the wood stove, it was from the first act of Macbeth that has a wounded soldier recounting the details of the recent battle to Duncan who listens with empathy and concern for the man and his pain. Upon hearing the man’s account, Todd now playing Duncan with exaggerated enthusiasm calls out, “Go get him, surgeons!” as if he were a coach ordering football players to tackle the wounded soldier. Paul and I would nearly fall out of our chairs with laughter. He then would do the scene correctly with the correct syntax, “Go, get him surgeons!” Thus my introduction to punctuation was more colorful than usual.

With punctuation, Shakespeare was able to write his work with accurate syntax or expression, it was the first time in history such a unique concept was advanced and the Bard was the man who could work the system to full glory like no one before or after. Shakespeare is said to have invented close to 10,000 words and maintained a vocabulary of 40,000 words; yet, the average college graduate only has a vocabulary of 5,000 words. Fortunately, Shakespeare did not need to invent punctuation, thanks entirely to Aldus the Younger.

Now, most of the arguments were in good spirits; but Todd was a committed Communist and Paul hated Communists. I had no doubts as to the extent of Todd’s Leftist leanings because of seeing several copies of The Daily Worker beneath the seat of his wagon. In those days, just touching the papers seemed evil.

During one of our sessions, Todd excused himself to visit his immediate family at the outhouse; in hushed tones, Paul told me that Todd was a Marxist and that he had left a copy of The Communist Manifesto in the outhouse to pollute the minds of everyone who stopped to leave a deposit. He looked me in the eye and alluded to the fact that it had made excellent fuel for the woodstove.

I was a teenager, the prospect of a Communist in a Socialist Province like British Columbia wasn’t a great shock; although, to my knowledge I had never met a devout Communist or at least someone who professed to being a Communist. The line that defined a Communist from a Socialist was vague and dubious, but we all knew that a Socialist was okay, like having a retarded family member, but a Communist was like the worst kind of deviant. Now Todd didn’t admit to being a Communist, but he didn’t deny it either. This fact wore on Paul, he disapproved of Todd’s willingness to extract a sharp profit while being a dedicated Marxist, he felt it was taking advantage of entrepreneurial spirit and free enterprise. A fact Paul explained, that was inconsistent with Marxist values. Still, I think things could have been worked out in time; except, for the Communist Manifesto appearing in the outhouse. Some lapses of etiquette require an appropriate response.

All of this was confusing to a lad trying to learn literature and the fundamentals of religion. Yet there were certain issues that were obvious, even in The Peace River Country. Most Socialists were either extremely wealthy or they were such committed Marxists that nothing else in life mattered. These two groups operated in tandem as allies to accomplish the goals of their agendas. I thought it ironic how the idle rich seemed to resent the fact that a previous relative had made a fortune by using the free market to provide a service or goods and these latest children or grandchildren were more than willing to correct any perceived wrongs their relatives had committed accumulating their wealth; although, they drew the line at contributing their wealth to the betterment of society, their main goal seemed to be to prevent others from becoming wealthy. Yet in a way, this was strictly a selfish maneuver, since they considered themselves to be old money and heavily invested in the social structure of wealth; where as new money people lack the social graces and Marxist philosophy; therefore, they were hardly equipped to contend with the responsibilities of wealth.

In time, I could see the enmity building between Paul and Todd, over the issue of politics. Paul confided to me that Todd was using his outhouse in an unorthodox manner; apparently, he was standing on the Lodge Pole rail, in his Ukrainian Marxist Cowboy Boots, and leaving large deposits of mud on the rail, he explained that family type people were complaining about the unsightly appearance of mud on the rail. He asked me my opinion of the situation. I told him I thought it was a rude type of behavior and that perhaps he didn’t know that you were supposed to sit on the rail, not stand on it. Paul looked at me as if I were simple minded and in his thick Irish accent told me that he had explained the proper outhouse etiquette several times to Todd; but he considered his fat ass too good to sit where normal people sit, probably because of being a Communist. He told Paul, he’d rather stand where normal people sit. I’m not exactly sure if Todd said this exactly and I wasn’t going to ask Paul to verify these sentiments; understandably, tensions were heating up.

This seemed like a subject that was too deep and had too much turmoil for a teenager, so I let the pot boil rather than say more about the muddy rail dilemma to either one of my elders.

On the next occasion of our intellectual discussion, I arrived as Todd was sauntering over to the Peace River Outhouse; Paul was agitated and nervous. He held my jacket with both hands. “Skookum, there is going to be trouble.”

I looked at him as if to ask what the Hell was going on, when we heard a loud crack like a 30-06 rifle going off followed by a loud scream. At first I thought Paul had arranged a gun trap in the outhouse to shoot poor Todd when he stood on the rail.

Paul looked at me and said with a somber expression, “You had better go help Todd, laddie; I think he will be needing help.” He turned and walked slowly into the house: I ran over to see what had happened to Todd, fearing the worst.

At first I didn’t see him, but after walking closer I saw that the rail and Todd were in the eight foot deep trench and Todd was standing there with the muck about halfway up his thighs. He was using curse words I’d never heard of, in several different foreign languages; at first I thought the rail had broken; but Todd explained that the rail had been sawed halfway through.

I tried to help him out by hand but the suction of the ooze combined with Todd’s weight was too much; I told him to stay put and I would get a ladder. He replied sarcastically, “And where the Hell do you think I might be wandering off to?”

I brought the ladder over from the barn and stuck it down into the trench and Paul walked up to the trench, with an old shot gun, and said, “I’ve had enough of you Pollock Communists standing on my out house rail in your muddy Ukrainian Marxist Cowboy Boots, when you come up out of there, hitch up your team and drive away and don’t ever think of coming back to use my out house.” Being naive, I wondered if perhaps all Communists stood up to make a deposit.

Todd was more concerned with extricating himself from Paul’s outhouse than he was concerned with repeating the incident. With a mighty pull, Todd brought one leg out of the mire and unto a rung of the ladder and then brought the other leg up to the same level. Soon it was obvious that his Marxist Cowboy Boots were at the bottom, for Todd’s once white socks were without his muddy Marxist Cowboy Boots.

Todd climbed out of the out house hole with as much dignity as he could muster and with a dramatic flourish, he stepped on the toe of one soiled and outstretched sock and pulled it off and then repeated the process with the other sock. With disdain he used his foot to brush them into the trench. He stood to his full height and walked barefoot with pomp and circumstance to his wagon, he then drove his team away from Paul’s for the last time.

Unfortunately, this sad episode ended my formal study of classical literature.

It was a tragic event, one that I think is playing out once again on the American Political Stage. Barrack Obama has hidden his Marxist history quite well; however, his muddy Marxist Cowboy boots are leaving their mud and filth in a bizarre manner in places that have never been exposed to the Marxist Creed. Despite the fact that Obama is a bit of a light weight, he is standing on the rail of public scrutiny in his Marxist Cowboy boots with his arse exposed to the world. The rail is about to break, the only reason it hasn’t is his lack of substance and his lighter than air persona. The baggage is accumulating and the time is near, soon the crack will be heard and Obama will be standing knee deep in the filth.

Obama’s oily charm is similar in essence to that of Shakespeare’s Richard III: he may have had a hump for a back, a ‘withered stub’ for an arm, ‘a foul lump of deformity for a body’, a misshapen male member, and one testicle; but Shakespeare’s Machiavellian scoundrel has such an undeniable charm that an audience can’t help but come under his fascinating spell; even though they know him to be a murderer and an unscrupulous rogue; who will stop at nothing as he leaves a bloody trail of intrigue on the way to the throne.

Here in the opening lines of Richard III, an evil Richard or perhaps Obama draws us into a guilt by association complicity as he reveals his evil plans and evokes feelings of sympathy from the audience by laying out everything that is repulsive about his nature. Thus Richard like Obama addresses the audience directly and recites one of the most famous of Shakespeare’s soliloquies.

Richard:

But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks…
I that am rudely stamped and want love’s majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph,
I that am curtailed of this fair proportion…
Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time
Into this breathing world scarce made up-
And that so lamely and unfashionable

Of course, Obama used race and his pathetic childhood as his physical deformity; and thus employed these characteristics to gather sympathy from his audience. He then used his charm to tell the American people how he was going to lead them into a Socialist Perdition and that they could be complicit in the demise of the United States as we know it and they followed this modern day Richard III willingly through the doors of Hell.

Now that Americans have glimpsed into this Marxist Hell of Obama’s, that he is so anxious to create: are they willing to watch him fall by sawing the rail even more or are they content to watch him soil the rail of freedom with his muddy Marxist Cowboy Boots.

The year 2010 will give us the opportunity to leave the Marxist on the rail with his trousers around his knees. If we hold the course, Obama like Todd will fall into the trench of obscurity in 2012. The American people were swayed by the charm and sweet speeches of a Marxist: but in the end, a Marxist only wants your freedom and your money, despite his charming manner and winning ways.

Rick Perry’s cowboy boots are a matter of contention among the MSM. I suppose the concept of Western boots to estrogen charged men can be frightening and even erotic, but if you were raised in moccasins and only wore your boots to go to town or to church, boots aren’t really that big of an issue. This updated article from the past should help alleviate some nervousness among Liberals who are overly concerned about those boots.

It’s true I have snow on the roof year round, but the sap stays up year round. The young girls in diners and coffee shops smile and call me sir: oh, how I miss the days when they’d smile and wink. Yes, I am a senior citizen and I try to accept the sentence of life without parole with as much grace and dignity as possible. Despite my advanced years and a raven haired young beauty for a girl friend, I still admire the feminine form; just because you are on a diet doesn’t mean you can’t read the menu.

A few days ago, I was at the Apple Store taking lessons for formatting the text of my books, they are much further along the trail of electronic publishing; however, it is a high treacherous trail with mud and ice above wild rivers and not meant for the feeble or faint hearted.

When you buy a Mac, you have the option of buying a year’s worth of lessons, as many as you have time for on almost anything that the Mac is programmed for. After the first year you can renew for another year it is a great program that has helped me immensely. It only costs a hundred dollars and you can use the program in any Apple store if you are traveling. I don’t do promotions for companies; but this is a great program.

After a lesson, while working in one of the cities known for a Gay lifestyle, I walked into a coffee shop across the street to test my new computer skills while they were still fresh in the brain pan. I was finishing a cup of the strong dark brew I prefer, the kind that will float a horseshoe. I was deep in concentration and exercising my keyboard, when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a pair of loud colored long socks walking through the door to my right. The young horse girls like to wear the long gaily colored socks under their long English boots and I like the way they look, it’s a man thing. My eyes began to drift upward slowly to take in the whole package, thinking it might be someone I work for. The size of the feet and knees told me that it was a big girl. My eyes continued their upward migration and there were muscular thighs that looked powerful. The thighs continued to a mauve miniskirt that was scandalously short. At this point, I looked up to see that my young girl was indeed a man in his mid-thirties that looked as though he could have been a former college football player.

Needless to say, I was astounded and bewildered. I had never seen anything so provocative in my travels, but it is a reasonable part of modern American life to accept these unusual people as just another person. I tried not to stare, but the “guy” might have been a handsome man: as a woman, he lacked femininity. In my brain of brains, well known for surmising a multitude of possibilities and conflicts; I wondered how I would respond if this man approached me with a sparkle in his eye.

Of course, I’d let him know in no uncertain terms, that he and I traveled on opposite sides of the fence, but what if he was persistent and didn’t take a hint. That is a question that will be coming up in the future and has already contributed to the death of a high school boy in Southern California. The trial has started in Chatsworth, CA.

An Avoidable Tragedy

A 14-year old Ventura County boy, Brandon McInerney, shot an openly gay student, Larry King, twice in the head at point blank range. The injured student was brain dead and taken off life support a few days later to harvest the organs for transplant donation.

There is no question of guilt; the shooting took place in a classroom with multiple witnesses. McInerney is being charged as an adult with premeditated murder with the enhancements of using a firearm and a crime of hate.

Classmates of the two boys related that King had just recently started wearing make up and jewelry: he had stepped out of the closet and proclaimed his gayness openly.

The other students have also admitted that several boys, including McInerney, had a verbal confrontation about King’s sexual orientation the day before the shooting.

King was a foster child, with psychological problems.

McIrney had no previous criminal activity and was considered a good student.

If convicted, McInerney could face 50 years to life. The hate crime enhancement adds another one to three years to his sentence.

King was cross dressing and being flamboyant his attire was disturbing the students at E.O. Green Junior High in Oxnard.

Joy Epstein an openly lesbian assistant principal, maintained that it was within the school’s dress code for King to wear eye makeup, high heel boots, and earrings. By law, the school can’t differentiate on which gender is entitled to dress in this manner. Epstein testified:

They said we had to protect his civil rights and his equal rights; we could not discriminate between a boy and a girl wearing those items to school.

Epstein consulted with an administrator at the Hueneme Elementary School District after King started coming to school in late January 2008 in women’s accessories. Epstein was told that, by law, as long as the 15-year-old student wore the school’s uniform, he was entitled to embellish as he pleased.

Ventura County Senior Dist. Atty. Maeve Fox maintains that McInerney was motivated and influenced by “White Power” ideology, a group that considers homosexuality as an abomination. Apparently, McIrnerney’s friends were involved with this group.

McInerney’s attorneys admit he pulled the trigger, but that King provoked the response by harassing McIrnerney with sexual overtures, for example: interrupting a basketball game and asking McIrnerny to be his Valentine(an action that caused McIrnerney’s friends to ask him if he and King were going to make gay babies together) and by King telling McIrnerney that he knows he wants him in a crowded hallway.

School officials are being portrayed as promoting King’s sexual identity and actions. Dawn Boldrin, a teacher gave King a prom dress and offered tips for applying make up, she testified on Monday that shaded not ask permission from the parents before giving him the dress.

“It seemed that the foster care he was in was not condoning it, per se, but at least was allowing him to finally do as he wanted to do,” Boldrin told the court.

Martha Romero, a science teacher, testified that she saw several boys restraining McIrnerney who appeared agitated, the day before the shooting: she found out later, McIrnerney was upset because, as they passed in the hall, King said:

“I love you, baby!”

The next morning, McIrnerney sat behind King in computer lab and shot him twice in the back of the head.

The dynamics of this case are liable to have far reaching effects. The “White Power” exposure will be an influencing factor, but are we assumed to be consumed by an ideology because of our friend’s beliefs?

The behavior of school officials and their eagerness to promote the Gay Agenda has apparently contributed to King’s death.

Are Gays allowed to harass others sexually, without repercussions, because of a privileged position in society.

Are schools qualified and prepared to deal with the complications that will arise when they encourage Gay students to be flamboyant.

The passions of a male adolescent are complicated. He is trying to define himself as a man and cope with desire for females, while learning acceptable means of expressing desire for females. The unwanted attention of gays serves to complicate the process and can cause serious reactions from the straight male trying to understand his masculinity.

Without a doubt, McIrnerney pulled the trigger, but he had lots of people helping him hold that weapon. The system failed these two young men and put them in direct confrontation to promote a political agenda; their lives are over, but we can learn from the situation and not repeat these same mistakes.

After the tragedy in Tucson, everyone is concerned with the metaphors that had nothing to do with the murders or the homicidal maniac who pulled the trigger, but if there was some kind of connection, there would be Hell to pay in the Liberal Press. The Propagandists of Progressivism parading as unbiased journalists have exposed their bias to all who have an open mind or at least those who have a shred of analytical judgement. For they have shot themselves in the foot.

Lord have mercy, Ol Skook has made the same error. He has used an old metaphor and is now eligible to be persecuted and hit with the lead weighted purses of all the dainty boys of the Left Wing Media Complex. But wait a minute, Ol Skook has been a professional hunter and trapper, has been a rancher and worked around the rough and tumble world of horses all his adulthood and childhood. He’s a little course around the edges, you could say he still has the bark on and makes no apologies.

Now our silly boys who get tingles up the inside of their legs watching Obama recite teleprompter messages are going to seem a mite different than a man who hunted elk and moose to feed his family and butchered his own pigs and smoked hams and bacon. You see men like Skook have never farted through silk and aren’t likely to ever consider the possibility.

Once upon a time, at least a few decades ago, before our public education system insisted that young boys act more like girls and adopt feminine mannerisms or be put on anti-anxiety drugs to prep them for being drug addicts, while worrying about self-esteem and majoring in societal disciplines to help form a national dystopia of the future, most men had no doubt as to their manhood and sexual preferences. They were men, some were better than others, but they were men.

Is it no wonder, that a man who fed his family with the meat that he killed and butchered, without ever buying a steak or roast wrapped in cellophane, might use more colorful and descriptive metaphors than one of these boys who would rather starve kill and butcher a moose.

There are different perspectives between these two types of people. One is a survivor and one has lost touch with the elemental factors of nature that can mean the difference between survival and starvation. Unfortunately, it is the survivor that is vilified and looked down upon. He has no compassion for the wolves and the Delta Smelt of the Sierras. Of course he knows of the savagery that wolves use to kill elk and moose, and to the wolf, a rancher’s cow and calf is no different than an elk cow and calf. He knows that the Delta Smelt is being used as an opportunity for the Sierra Club to flex its muscle and control over the farmers of the San Joaquin Valley, so that the water of the Sierra will need to be diverted to San Francisco Bay instead of being used to grow crops in the most productive farm land in the world.

So we talk a little rougher, not with swearing necessarily, we just don’t talk like the dilettantes at the Sunday Wine and Cheese Clubs. Just as truckers will use trucking terms to describe his life and a military man will use military jargon to describe his particular life, and a fisherman will use fishing terms to describe things in his fishy life; although, this is now supposed to change, if we don’t speak in a politically correct manner like our sanctimonious propaganda journalists, we can and will be held liable, just in case someone reads a few lines of our prose and is driven beyond the limits of human endurance and can’t resist killing a few people.

It’s possible that some pathetic soul, that failed to ‘lock onto’ the pacifist pablum of socialism might hear me say or read my writing that implies that certain journalists weren’t worth three dead flies. Does that mean, I will be under the gun, since my metaphor will be the ominous smoking gun that will put the noose around my neck; especially, if some gender confused man-child raised on video games while medicated on the anti-anxiety drugs Zoloft and Ritalin, decides to take his fantasies into reality. Will the Pontificating Lords of Political Correctness and Propaganda sharpen their axes and set their sights on poor Ol’ Skook.

The precedent is being set, we must apologize for any phrases that might imply noncompliance with the new norms of political acceptance, essentially those established by our propaganda bureaus and the Progressive Socialists they represent.

CNN’s John King: “Before we go to break, I want to make a quick point. We were having a discussion about the Chicago mayoral race. My friend Andy Shaw used the term ‘in the crosshairs’ in talking about the candidates. We’re trying, we’re trying to get away from that language. Andy is a good friend, he’s covered politics for a long time, but we’re trying to get away from that kind of language.”

Of course, the transgression becomes much more serious to a propagandist if the perpetrator is a Conservative or a Republican, this is the nature of propaganda.

I am imagining how I will need to write my hunting stories of the future: I saw the bull moose; no, I saw the moose with male genitalia emerge from the river. I looked through the scope; no, I looked through the magnifying apparatus. He was a prime specimen; no, he was representative of a healthy moose population. I snugged the rifle into my shoulder and began the trigger squeeze after exhaling half a breath; no, I placed my led projectile implement in position and slowly initiated launching procedures. The rifle barked and the bullet landed dead on, piercing both lungs and the heart; no, the lead projectile pierced the breathing apparatus and the animal’s vital pump. He swayed on his feet for a few moments and collapsed to die a few breaths later. Aw Hell, this is getting ridiculous; about as ridiculous as being blamed for rhetoric that didn’t cause a homicidal maniac to go on a killing spree.

Criticize or challenge Obama and you can lose your job.

Jacob Volkmann, after being interviewed by a Leftist TV reporter, who inserted his political views, imagine that, has been placed on administrative leave with pay from his job as a high school wrestling coach in Minnesota for making comments about Obama. He made derogatory comments about Obama’s lack of intelligence and challenged him to a fight in the octagon.

Volkman, says he is now under investigation by White Bear Lake High School, where he has worked for three years as a high school wrestling coach.

They didn’t like how I was representing the school, they said I was representing them bad because of what I said about the president and his policies.

Marisa Vette, the director of communications, for the school district admitted that Volkman is on Administrative Leave.

“We have an employee who is on leave and the district is investigating in accordance with the law,”

An interesting situation, the school district is interpreting the law and the legal rights of Mr Volkman or perhaps the law gives them the option of conducting an investigation, “in accordance with the law.” These are slippery slopes that may end up biting these Progressive Socialists in the ass.

Volkman was not arrested, but he was interviewed by the Secret Service, who admitted that the whole thing was embarrassing because he had done nothing wrong.

But for replying with the answer “Obama” when asked who he would like to fight next and for saying:

He’s not too bright, someone’s got to knock some sense into that idiot.

He is now facing an investigation. Now this will definitely set up a precedent of fear for the children. They will surely know that in Minnesota, you don’t criticize Obama, even if the criticism is in jest. They will realize there are no First amendment Rights concerning President Obama. The school will strictly enforce the party line and there will be retribution for any deviance from the party line.

Now, I wonder how strict they were on this policy while President Bush was in office. Let there be no doubt that the Democrats and Progressive Socialists control the discourse within Public Education in Minnesota.

In a subsequent interview, Volkman remarked:

The only regret I have is calling him an idiot. I don’t think he’s an idiot, but I do think he’s making a lot of mistakes.

Again, Volkman has overstepped the boundaries for the First Amendment as defined by the Public Education System: he still readily accuses Obama of making mistakes. His behavior and attitude will only encourage resistance to Socialism and cause students to doubt the wisdom of the Obama. There can only be one course of action for this type of unpatriotic criticism of a Leftist President; he must be fired and his licenses revoked, only then will others realize the seriousness of dissent.

The Global Warming Scam Artists Are Willing To Resort To Murder To Promote The Great Hoax

The Global Warming Hoaxsters are willing to become fascists to frighten and intimidate children and the feeble minded. Their political campaign of international fraud is being ratcheted up to a new level, now that they are being challenged.

How quick they are to show the underbelly of evil that embodies the Hoax of Global Warming.

We can no longer indulge these criminals and their program of intimidation; the Great Hoax must be stopped in every facet of our Community to expose the fraud before it consumes us, all for control producing countries, by Elites and their sanctimonious followers so willing to employ evil or any means to gain control f the world’s superpower. No one assumes that China or Russia will pay more than lip service to the absurdity while waiting for the US and Great Britain to be weakened until they drop to their knees.

These Crypto-Nazis are more than willing to portray the murder of children to promote their scam. Now we must obey their demands or be liquidated. The Maoists and Stalinists of the Global Warming Hoax must be in an orgiastic dream world when they can glimpse the control that Elites are planning.

This film was funded in part by Great Britian, it was pulled within minutes of being shown as a result of public outrage and indignation, it will probably be pulled from You Tube within hours, but there is one copy that will hopefully not disappear from public view.

Watch it if you have a strong stomach and view these sick bastards of International Socialism as they imagine the world after they achieve their dreams of control.

Ch-ch-change baby! (h/t Gateway Pundit)

On Tuesday September 7, 2010 at around 11:00am one Palm Beach State College (PBSC) student and two Young Americans for Freedom (YAF) members, state chairman Daniel P. Diaz and state vice chairman Eddie Shaffer, were shut down and had campus police called on them after tabling and recruiting during club rush at the College. The PBSC student, Christina Beattie, had received prior permission from college administrator Olivia Ford-Morris to promote her organization on campus via telephone and email communication.

On the day of club rush, officials approached the group and after seeing information about the organization and its ideals criticizing Barack Obama’s economic policy. Ms. Ford-Morris was visibly disturbed by the material presented, published by the Heritage Foundation, criticizing President Obama’s administration. College officials then called the campus police to assure the group left campus. Ms. Ford-Morris denied having ever talked to Ms. Beattie about giving permission to the organization to be a part of PBSC club rush.

Apparently some groups who had not registered with this same coordinator were allowed to remain. But if you dare to disagree with Obama’s economic policy your out of luck.

Daniel P. Diaz commented that “It is extremely frustrating that when a conservative organization like YAF tries to start a chapter on a public university, administrators who proclaim that colleges are the market place of ideas proceed to be intolerant and censor views contrary to the liberal ideology.”

Unbelievable bias. The college campuses of today are indeed intolerant echo-chambers.

Olivia Ford-Morris email is morriso@palmbeachstate.edu
Dr. Dennis P. Gallon, President of Palm Beach State College email is gallond@palmbeachstate.edu.

Drop them a polite note letting them know what you think about their policy to shut down opposing views.

UPDATE

Tigercap has a screenshot of Olivia’s facebook, check out her likes:

I know…shocking!

She can have her views and her politics. But preventing one side from voicing their views and politics, in a college campus of all places, is wrong.

Last month, students at a Southern California high school were caught playing a late-night on-campus game of tag called “Beat the Jew.” On the popular social networking site Facebook, a user named Alex Cookson launched an open invitation to an event called “Kill a Jew Day.” It was the fourth time that a call to murder Jews had been put on Facebook within recent days.

In D.C., White House press doyen Helen Thomas was captured on tape nonchalantly opining that all Jews should go back to Germany. Implicit in her statement was her assumption that everyone felt the same way, so what’s the big deal?

Also last month: Egypt decided to revoke the citizenship of any Egyptians married to Israelis. In Amsterdam, anti-Semitism has become so commonplace that Dutch police are now using “decoy Jews” in an effort to to cut the number of verbal and physical attacks on Jews, amid fears that anti-Semitic “hate crime” is on the rise. And in Germany, a Jewish dance group was attacked with stones by a group of children and teenagers during a performance at a street festival in Hannover. The teenagers also used a megaphone to shout anti-Semitic slurs.

European Jewish Congress President Moshe Kantor last week gave a bleak evaluation of European Jewry. “Jews are afraid to walk the streets in Europe with Jewish symbols,” Kantor said. “Synagogues, Jewish schools and kindergartens require barbed-wire fences and security, and Jewish men, women and children are beaten up in broad daylight.”

Jews worldwide are again under attack. The Holocaust and 6 million slaughtered Jews have been forgotten. It now appears that history is on the way to repeating itself, aided and abetted by the world press.

During the much publicized clash between supposed peace activists and Israeli soldiers last month, Israel was roundly condemned when forced to board a ship that was trying to break Israel’s blockade of Gaza under the guise of delivering “humanitarian aid” to Palestinians. Reuters was caught, once again, photo shopping a knife out of the hand of a supposed “peace activist” in a blatant attempt to portray Israel as the aggressor.

The London Telegraph was also caught using a two-year-old photo in their quest to portray Palestinians as victims. A photo that was purposefully misleading, as is shown here.

When Israel withdrew from Gaza in 2005, Hamas launched 6,500 unprovoked rocket strikes on towns and schoolyards in Israel. The Israeli blockade of Gaza was a necessary self-defense measure to keep these rockets from reaching Gaza. But world opinion as expressed in the media, sees it differently. Palestinians are the victims and Israel should atone. Period.

The communications firm best known for shaping the liberal Moveon.org into a national movement has tackled a new project: orchestrating an international anti-Israel campaign. And it appears to be working.

Even Israel’s good friend, the United States, is throwing it under the bus. According to Israel’s ambassador to Washington, relations between Israel and its staunchest ally, the U.S., havesuffered a “tectonic rift.”

Under President Barack Obama, the United States no longer provides Israel with automatic support at the United Nations where the Jewish state faces a constant barrage of criticism and condemnation. American sentiment now increasingly favors the supposed Palestinian “victims.”

As Thomas Sowell says, “Just as the American left has adopted blacks as mascots, so the international left has adopted Palestinians as mascots. In both cases, the actual well-being of the mascots is not the point. Mascots exist to be symbols for others. In all the years when the Arab states controlled the area that Israel took over after the 1967 war, nobody cared what happened to the Palestinians, much less offered them a homeland.”

If you are one of the unsuspecting Americans who have bought into the “Palestinians as victims” hoax, I urge you, in the interest of fairness, to watch this short video. It is a must-see history lesson from David Horowitz, laying out the true history of Palestine. The facts are incontrovertible.

No matter how thin the pancake, there are always two sides. If we allow the terrorists’ propaganda machine and the world press to continue presenting a false version of Israel and Palestine, it is possible that history could indeed, repeat itself. And we will become allies with murderous Islamic terrorists whose sole goal is to wipe Israel off the face of the earth.

Crossposted from Right Bias

Meet Ron Gochez….your Santee High School history teacher:

Video hat tip: American Power

The video’s from a LA Raza rally at UCLA, 3 years ago.

From his MySpace:

I’m a teacher at South Central LA High! I LOVE MY JOB! Teaching our young people is a beautiful thing! I wouldn’t do anything else! I want to give the youth of South Central the best education that people like my parents NEVER had the opportunity to receive. I graduated from San Diego State and then I got my masters at UCLA. I love to travel, read, work out, watch movies, watch RAIDER FOOTBALL!! VIVA LA RAZA!!

American Power also has an earlier post on his racist views as well as desire to meet “underage hotties”.

This anti-American leftist racist is part of what’s going wrong in our country. Just what exactly do you suppose he is “teaching” our young people?! Would you trust him to teach history to your high school kid? Your neighbor’s kids? Your country’s?

California’s broke. So’s Los Angeles. I say, safe some taxpayers’ money and kick the racist s.o.b. to the curb:

He has the right to say these things, but he has no right to indoctrinate our children and support a revolution in this country. That is not what our teachers are supposed to be doing

Here is traitor Gochez’s High School – HE TEACHES OUR CHILDREN THERE!!!

http://www.santeefalcons.org/

Phone: (213) 763-1000
Los Angeles Unified School District
Tel: 213-241-7000
superintendent@lausd.net
Los Angeles Board of Education:
Tel: 213-241-6389
Email: steve.zimmer@lausd.net

Santee Education Complex
www.santeefalcons.org

Facebook page:

http://www.facebook.com/StandWithArizona#!/profile.php?id=2540034&ref=search&sid=1187127934.425714846..1

Facebook : Fire Ron Gochez

http://www.facebook.com/StandWithArizona#!/group.php?gid=115626095141037&ref=search&sid=1187127934.425714846..1