The White Album

+++

Manson's interpretation became better known than the White Album itself

I don't remember all that well how I felt about it

I do recall the shiny cover smelling like the pages of the high school yearbook!

and biting off a piece of it one night

I bit off part of Paulie's stubbly bearded head

Or maybe I was sucking my own cock

It's impossible to separate one memory from another

I was doin loads of free blotter buying rolls of crossroads ten fer a dollah

and smoking dirtweed all day and allah da nite

Plus stealing all me mummy's valium that I could get my hands on

She never knew why her monthly supply, one hundred and twenty blues!

kept going empty every fifteen-sixteen days

Finally the doctor wised her up after he took her out on a date and decided she can't be this much fun that high

Or could she?

Bastard!

+++

My mom was hot and wanting it bad too

I was in full oedipal flower among other ripenesses fruitier than the tangelo trees blooming all round the yard

Dad would come cruising passed in his pickup same time every night

staring into the open front room windows music blaring teen heat rising

He was still our Dad making sure we was all OK

Me, my sister and our friends endless parties when mom went out with the neighbour's ex-husband

or the Mayor or the bartender from the bowling alley

About once a week dad come bouncing up the driveway and out onto the porch

If anyone noticed they'd rush to the front door slam it shut first and lock it quick

We stifling giggles while he pounded on the door getting more and more pissed by the second

"Damn it! Hey Pete! Open up the god damn door God damn it!"

"Mom's not here dad. And she told us not to let you in."

That last part wasn't true but it always set him spinning off

crazy cussing a blue tirade through his teeth like a red neck

Dizzy puffed up and blowing that profanely upbent horn to the highest heavens

He'd stop after while light a cigarette, scratch his nose a few times then get back in his truck

and bounce back down the driveway laying rubber in the street

+++

Mom started hiding the valium bottle around the sweaty little two bed one bath crackerbox

but never so's I couldn't easily find her cute little box when I needed some

which was all the time from morning coffee to last call cerveza

She loved me too much that was the problem

When her and dad divorced we should've just hooked up

the two of us and moved away to Morocco or somewhere it wouldn't raise eyebrows

Plus all that excellent hashish for sale in the bizarre cheap

+++

Beat the Meatles! Part 1

Beatles for Sale

Beatles albums can be categorised into two distinct periods:

1. John, the-scotch-and-coke-swilling-meat-eater

2. John, the pussy-whipped-by-a-Japanese-whackjob-chick-vegan-acid-head

The first period extends from the initial Parlophone release Please Please Me through Revolver, while the second runs from Sergeant Pepper through Abbey Road. (Let it Be, although released later to coincide with the documentary was actually recorded earlier than Abbey Road.

I'm a self confessed John fanboi. The Beatles best songs, IMHO, as well as most of their songs in th eearly period, feature Lennon singing lead with Paul and sometimes George on backing vocals. This is not to dismiss Paul's important greatness one iota, for musically speaking he was both the brilliance and the glue that made the Beatles. His harmonies and melodicity largely were the essence of what turned John's songs into the classics they became.

I'm an unabashed early period Beatles fan. I find the early stuff, especially the non-hit single album filler more interesting musically for the lack of pretension and most definitely better sung, for the strength of the Beatles of course resided in their vocal abilities and song crafting rather than their mediocre (except for an occasional George guitar solo and the always exceptional basslines laid down by McCartney).

For me,  the two best all-time Beatles LPs occurred during  their BC period, Beatles for Sale and Revolver, in that order. Today, I will offer a critical analysis of the former and come back at a later date to take on the latter.

While Revolver is frequently recognised by music critics as one of, if not the best, Beatles LPs, Beatles for Sale is generally considered one of their less fabulous, a hastily thrown together commercial project in 1965, at the height of Beatlemania, mainly to take advantage of the willingly wide open pocketbooks of hysterical Beatlemaniacs. In the US, the album was released as two LPs, with even more filler added, Beatles 65 and Beatles VI, so the boys could double the take in their largest market. Is this a great country or what?

Beatles for Sale opens with the very underrated classic John tune No Reply, one of the earliest of his dark misogynistic story song motifs. He's  a stalker calling from outside his cheating girlfriend's house, waiting as she comes home with the Other Guy and watching for the reaction from inside when he makes the call. Musically, the song has a very simple but unusual structure for a blues-based rock tune, featuring no chorus, a fantastically emotive bridge in the middle of the song that builds into a rushing, pounding crescendo before abruptly returning to repeat the quieter second verse "I tried to telephone they said you were not home. That's a lie...".  This discordant sequence filled first with  intense the passion of the John/Paul harmony before switching back an to calmly accusatory second verse perfectly reflects the stalker's unbalanced, agitated state of mind. The songs coda repeats the title over and over to underscore the psychic pain of the stalker's  inability to make the connection with his unfaithful lover.

Beatles for Sale features six cover versions Rock n Roll Music (Chuck Berry), one of Lennon's best recorded vocals ever, confirms that both the Beatles and the Stones sang Berry better than Berry, Mr. Moonlight (Otis Johnson), another Lennon effort, the rather tame McCartney medley of Kansas City/Hey Hey Hey Hey (Leiber/Stoller and Little Richard tunes) and two Carl Perkins' send ups Honey Don't with Ringo vocals and the excellent Everybody's Trying to Be My Baby with George singing lead through an echo box. 

Besides Rock n Roll Music, the real revelation among the covers is the Beatles' treatment of the Buddy Holly B-side Words of Love. Where Holly sang harmony to his own lead vocal, the Beatles swap leads between John,  Paul and George and add gorgeous three part harmony that remake what was a Holly throwaway into a timelessly classic love song.

I've always been more interested in hearing a band's cover versions rather than their original compositions, simply because this gives you a way of determining where they are at musically in comparison to the original versions. You gain a sense of their stylistic tendencies, influences and their overall musicianship better than with their own penned numbers because the originals must be considered solely in their own right without a comparative frame of reference.

So without further ado, for your listening pleasure and critical consideration, ladeez and gennelmens, donkeytale's selection for all-time best Beatle LP.



What's yours?

Legalise Marijuana

Important Update:

Teen narrowly escapes death after smoking synthetic marijuana

I recommend people not smoke synthetic marijuana. It's a good thing some states have recently legalised the real stuff. Here in Massachusetts it has become decriminalised. If you're caught in public with less than an ounce, you get the equivalent of a speeding ticket. That is progress. (end of update 02/04/13)



That's what K2 Spice looks like. I never heard of it until a few days ago. It's some form of synthetic marijuana. It gets you buzzed same as the real thing but is sold legally in head shops and gas stations.

Looking around it appears anyone taking it is running the risk of experiencing a severe panic attack, heart troubles, or rapidly growing body hair then attacking stray dogs for a meal.



It's sold with the wink wink attitude of not being for human consumption. That it's incense. The problem is there's no way to know what's in it. One could be playing roulette and end up with a bad batch.

Another problem is that this isn't your grandmom's weed. Apparently it is up to 100 times stronger. Hence one toke can be the equivalent of a Cheech and Chong fattie.

I believe it is marketed to three different types of users. Primarily it seems to be a good alternative for weed smokers who have to submit to drug tests. It doesn't show up as cannabis. There are also those who for whatever reasons cannot find a pot dealer. Then there are those crazy teenagers who will try anything.

Law enforcement and others are pushing for it to be criminalised. They have had some success. The problem is that by doing so, they are simply asking manufacturers to come up with other alternatives with ingredients even less known than what goes into spice.

There's no way people are buying it as incense. I suspect consumers should be very careful when smoking it. They should make sure it's not a "bad batch" or overdo it. While it's impossible for anyone to overdose on marijuana, it is less clear what is truly up with spice weed.

Here's the obvious solution. Legalise marijuana and even this stuff. I'm not talking decriminalise. I'm saying make pot completely legal. Then it can be regulated. Jobs can be created. People can then know exactly what they're buying. Revenue can go back into the economy and help pay for national health care, new schools, fixing potholes, etc.. If that coincided with major cuts in the Military Industrial Complex, there'd be plenty of money to create the kind of utopia leftier than thous envision. All we are saying is give weed a chance.

As the Convolution Turns

I use Yahoo as my home page. In the top right corner they list what is trending on their search engine.



Charles Schulz's Lucy Not McGillicuddy had this schtick where she'd say, "Go ahead, Charlie Brown. Kick the football. I won't pull it away at the last moment like the previous 1,274 times with you ending up on your arse."

A similar thing is occurring with those darn Yahoo trending links. You expect a there to be there but there isn't. Nonetheless like Charlie Brown, you still fall for it every time, especially when the keyword is Chuck Norris.

Lisa Whelchel is going to be on Survivor. Wtf? Is that truly a current big cheese trending topic for Yahoo, or is CBS paying them a bit of cash for the second slot?

The top one goes to Kelly Rippa. Like a chump, I clicked on it. Who's going to be her next co-host is at stake. Who cares?

At #3 is Rosie O'Donnell. As a leftier than thou, I have always enjoyed her schtick. I am not a big fan of her acting or comedy. However, I think she's decent as a talk show host. She is definitely an A1 prime sweetie for being a human being.

She recently had a heart attack. God bless her. It appears she is recovering well. Rosie's already written up a blog entry on it. She popped in a few Bayer Aspirins after experiencing chest pains. She was very funny saying a tv ad literally saved her life.

I know what you're thinking. What's up with Chuck Norris? I don't know, and I don't care. I'm also upset at Yahoo for dropping Phyllis Diller so quickly from the top ten. A few days ago she unexpectedly passed away at the age of 94. I believe an autopsy should be conducted.

I will say this. She was the Bob Hope of comedy. Simply. Not. Funny. This is not speaking badly of the dead. I am speaking badly of her schtick. There's a big difference.

I guess it's time to move on to today's roundup of internet convolution news, so the title of this mailed-in blog entry will remain pertinent.

Basically the Breitbart cult is scrambling to maintain the facade of SWATgate being anything other than a convoluted hoax put together at the expense of myself, Mike Stack, and internet sensation Ron Brynaert. That's not sarcasm with the internet sensation descriptor. Ron puts the awe in awesome. I'm glad he and myself have patched up again. Though he still has a ways to go to reach the 117 times myself and donkeytale have fought leading to make-up blogging.

Anyhoo, the Breitbart cult's Neal Rauhauser has recently been going back to the convolution well. This has coincided with an apparent effort by BK to get his Wikipedia entry deleted.

I'm not going to discuss this too much. Here's the link to Neal's current rubbish. The thingie centers around myself. As it has to. Without my story, there probably would have never been any SWATgate. Weinergate might have also ended up looking quite different than it did.

But here's the deal. Eventually the Breitbart cult's run will end. The long running soap As the World Turns finally did in 2010 after 54 years. I doubt we'll have to wait that long. I mean for crying out loud their top pinhead is dead. And according to the prophet George Harrison, all things must pass.



Ron Brynaert has called out Robert Stacy McCain for plugging Neal's pastebin crap. I agree. It's idiotic. The hoax is dead in the water, so why keep mentioning it? The only reason it persists is because otherwise the Breitbart cult would be admitting through their silence that the whole thing has been a farce.

I started blogging on BK around June, 2008. The Breitbarts didn't show up until October, 2010. That was a gap of well over two years. McCain does deserve credit for pointing out that true timeline. However, he is very wong to continually plug SWATgate and the Breitbarts behind it. On fraud Aaron Walker's blog is a prominent call for donations. McCain is mentioned as being one of the recipients of such funding. Hmmm.

His Other McCain blog has censored donkeytale. The extremist has also made many disparaging remarks on Ron Brynaert while plugging Fatterico entries. He's a buddy of Ali Akbar. He has continually pimped the idea BK was behind the SWATtings, despite there being zero evidence that is true. McCain went too far. He has been anything but fair and balanced. He has shattered his own credibility. He has no one to blame but himself.

Oh wait a sec. I see McCain used to be the assistant national editor for The Washington Times. Haha! Has he ever had credibility?

I'm not going to repeat things already blogged on DFQ2 which explain what SWATgate was truly about. When a nail is fully in the wood, do we keep hammering?

The Breitbartian numbnuts are spinning me as a SWATgate truther. They want people to think I am a conspiratard suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. I've never claimed the SWATs didn't occur. What I'm saying is Ron Brynaert and BK had nothing to do with them. Neal did, imho. Neal has been on Team Breitbart the whole time, imho. These are opinions based on facts and common sense.

One last thought: Yet again internet predator Rauhauser has posted the idea I am on disability. It isn't true. I have explained that before on this blog and won't again. The dude's simply upset he's been exposed as a cybersmearing, cyberstalking con artist who's been working for Team Breitbart. He's upset it's become known to anyone looking into it that he is the personification of scum.

Darn, I'm going through Johnny Cash middle finger withdrawal. Yet since Ron took me to the woodshed for acting like a 12 year old for posting it too often, I must resist the urge. So instead we'll wrap up this session by going to a happy place with Chubs, Happy Gilmore, and the lovely and talented Maria Sharapova.





Neal and other numbnuts are encouraged to go this link.

Who Reads or Cares about Internet Convolution?

I must admit I do!

But I'm healing. I no longer spend mountains of hours socratising just anything. My internet time is now devoted to perusing various donkratisations, brynaertizings, and good movies. For the most part I'm finally out of the convolution loop!

That doesn't mean I've completely halted following it. Some stuff's been happening recently on Twitter which I feel merits socrumenting.

There's nothing more internet piss-poor than scrubbings. It's a form of cheating which is the antithesis of the maxim the reader decides. The great philosopher Joseph KKK Dirt once opined, "It's all about the consumer." Though I concede that's something different.

What I'm talking about is card stacking. Picture yourself playing in a game with less than 52 cards and the dealer is manipulating what remains with what is discarded.

I've two examples to share. One concerns a probable spy factory fake and the other an alleged political operative working for Mitt Rmoney.

Jennifer Emick



On the surface she looks legit. According to this article, she was an anon in the legion giving a butt spanking to Scientology. Then somehow she felt Anonymous had lost its original holy intent and needed itself to be spanked. That's her story and she's sticking to it.

Me. Not. Buying. Imho, she is a spy factory hack and not the regular gal internet geek she portrays.

Emick owns a company named Backtrace Security. She gave this presentation at a DEFCON conference. I got through ten minutes before shutting it down. It was that lame and boring.

I don't know what's up with defcon. It's recently been promoted by the Electronic Frontier Foundation. My impression is it tries to present itself as a get-together for "good guy" hackers. Not. Buying. That. Either.

They vet the f*** out of anyone wanting to attend. From their 15 FAQ's:

Q: I'm press, how do I sign up, why can't I get in for free (I'm just doing my job)?

A: Please email press[at]defcon[dot]org if you wish press credentials. Lots of people come to DEFCON and are doing their job; security professionals, federal agents, and the press. It wouldn't be fair to DEFCON attendees if we exempted one group from paying. If you are a major network and plan on doing a two minute piece showing all the people with blue hair, you probably shouldn't bother applying for a press pass - you won't get one. If you are a security writer or from a real publication please submit, and someone will respond with an answer.

That's strange. Defcon allows the NSA a booth but won't allow major networks access to their conference.

DefCon: NSA Boss Asks Hackers to Join the Dark Side

Help me help you or help me hurt you? National Security Agency chief Gen. Keith Alexander's first-ever direct appeal to hackers to assist the secretive spy agency was greeted with polite applause at the DefCon conference in Las Vegas on Friday but afterwards, it was a different story.

"You're going to have to come in and help us," Alexander told DefCon attendees, according to Reuters. The NSA boss, dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt for the occasion, also denied that his agency kept dossiers on "millions of Americans." ...

In contradistinction, things did not go as smoothly for NBC Dateline's producer Michelle Madigan, who may or may not be Valerie Plame's younger sister.





And now for no other reasons than donkeytale will appreciate it while being good for DFQ2 ratings, here is a screenshot of tennis star Maria Sharapova.



I've kinda sorta gotten sidetracked. I'd love to present an old-school socratisation, but things truly boil down to the internet being stupid. A lot of it becomes inside baseball and thus extremely annoying to put together. Aaah, here goes.

There's this strange, internet presence named Douglas Matthew Stewart. He prominently plugs Mandy Nagy on his blog. He and another tool named Jamin "Jay Batman" Bates have been exposed by Ron Brynaert for pimping Lulzsec documents. Also strangely enough both of them are linked to Federalist Papers translated into Arabic. Those were two very contradictory activities.

Both have blogged on internet predator Neal Rauhauser. As for the tie-in to Jennifer Emick, on her website is a small blogroll. Included is Stewart's blog! Wtf? It's a small world?



I tweeted Emick asking what was up with that and also about her relationship to some internet fake dork named Tom Ryan. She called Stewart a friend and myself a conspiratard. Another person also called me out to the Twitter woodshed for believing she was a Tom Ryan associate. (Emick's handle is @AsherahResearch.)



Admittedly I got a few things wrong. Whoop-dee-doo. Sorry to have interrupted their all-important tweeting of dumbass convolution. I thought she was friends with Tom Ryan. I actually don't know much about either of them other than they both reek of spy factory, just like Rauhauser, Stewart, Brandon Darby, Jamin Bates, and many other internet creeps.

I wasn't about to get into a flame war. I'm still not. Nonetheless, I did notice a deleted tweet in the maelstrom. I wonder why she deleted it. I'm able to post screenshot proof of it here, because Twitter sends a copy of tweet mentions to one's inbox. Here it is, a tweet only available on this web page.



I googled around and saw nothing of a criminal complaint. I guess I should tweet @TomRyanBlog and ask him wtf. I think Emick messed up, but I'm not sure. If you listen to her on the youtube link, she doesn't sound like the brightest sardine in the tin.



Fine. They are not friends. But what's up with a "criminal complaint pending against Tom Ryan?" Here's some more small world for ya dear buggers. Tom Ryan blogs for Breitbart.com. RIOTOUS!


So does former(?) FBI sewer rat Brandon Darby. So does marketing whore Lee Stranahan. Darby and Stranahan attend OWS and Tea Party functions. Sheesh, all I can do is show ye folks a side or two of a square (h/t to Confucius). It's up to you to put it together. This isn't brain surgery.

I do not enlighten those who are not eager to learn,
nor arouse those who are not anxious
to give an explanation themselves.
If I have presented one corner of the square
and they cannot come back to me with the other three,
I should not go over the points again.

Some people are simply cheaters. Emick is one of them. Not only does she delete tweets, she makes ridiculous responses to sincere questions. That's something by the way her buddy Doug Stewart also does.

I had already done a mea culpa on the friendship angle the day before admitting I was wong. I thought I'd cut her a break and toss a softball question.



This was her response:




Mitt Romney's Social Media Director?



I'm gonna mail in the rest of this blog entry. Apologies to anyone having looked forward to an old-school, epic socratisation.

His name is Bill Murphy. Ron Brynaert has been all over him the last several days. Mr. Brynaert's even got an entry on him over at his blog.

In the meantime, Murphy has scrubbed his own blog. Thus we're unable to read gems such as Google gay employees get paid more than straights, Jared Loughner Has Full Support Of Dems, and NAACP complains about anything to stay relevant.

If you try to read anything at Murphy's blog, this is what you get:



Ron has done a fantastic job directly connecting Murphy to Ali Akbar and other shady wingnuts. Brynaert through such detective work exposes myself for the girly-man, wannabe cybersleuth loooser I am. I recommend folks check out his stuff. He's become basically one of the only reasons I still head to Twitter.

Here's another strange hmmmm: If you google "mitt romney's social media director bill murphy," not much is showing up except for Ron Brynaert's recent activity and Murphy's own schtick. Is this another Breitbart cult produced hoax? Is Bill Murphy who he claims to be?

To Ron Brynaert: Stay frosty, my friend!





Bonus Convolution Coverage

Neal Rauhauser through his own writing has linked himself to a phone number and thus apparently yet again to the Breitbart cult. (link)

If you look at a few of my personal sites you can see what looks like a trailhead - there are leading PDFs posted to Scribd, a supporting Tumblr, some of the content is bleeding into my WordPress. There is a dedicated contact number (832-429-4827) and some supporting Twitter accounts that you'll see if you start digging.

I guess Neal was attempting to explain that what may have seemed to be an alternative reality game (his hoaxing) was an actual story. I googled the number. That led to this interesting January 1st thread at The Crying Wolfe Blog. Mike put up a few screenshots.



LulzShack is believed to have been Neal Rauhauser. Ron tweeted the following apparently 20 hours later:



Googling that phone number also led to Deer Park, Texas. I've never read anywhere that Neal is from there. It's clear that Brandon Darby, Lee Stranahan, Ali Akbar, and Jamin "Jay Batman" Bates reside in that area. That's definitely the most circumstantial of evidence to include their names. Nonetheless, that would be rock solid proof of their involvement in Patrick "Fatterico" Frey's blog court.

The above screenshots weren't the only things that struck me about Mike's blog entry. So did a few comments by others. I don't mean the ones left by internet hack Mandy Nagy.

Breitbart cult tool Dustin Farahnak wrote: Ron likes to sow confusion. While I’ve had a lot of differences with Stranahan, the idea Ron was confusing he and Neal is absurd. Lee is Mother Theresa on a Friday at Happy Hour winning the lottery compared to Neal Rauhauser.

No, Dustin, it is you who likes to sow confusion. It is you who worked with Neal Rauhauser on a Daily Kos thread smearing Ron Brynaert. It was you giving Rauhauser every benefit of the doubt and Ron none.

Someone named AfterShock copied and pasted Neal's "The Hunt for Anonymous."

... SMS text at 832-429-4827 See me on the Chaos Computer Club’s Jabber server: ronbyrn@jabber.ccc.de I also monitor mentions of the Erisian Liberation Front’s Twitter account: @ErisianLF

He commented:

Why is Neal Rauhauser using a ronbryn (Ron Brynaert?) name in an email address? I thought that was strange.

Output:
Unverified address: mail.ccc.de said: 550 5.7.1 : Recipient address rejected: these are jabber accounts, not email addresses error
Error in communication with mail.ccc.de

If you’re wondering what Jabber is –
http://www.jabber.org/about/
It’s an instant messaging service.

My dear grasshoppers, I simply cannot show you any more sides of the square. If you cannot add two plus two, then perhaps you should go back to reading your Huffington Post's Pulitzer Prize worthy efforts on American Idol and George Clooney.

Here's one last coincidence. I googled Deer Park and Brandon Darby which led to this post in a Deer Park, Texas forum:

The insidious influence of George Soros was the theme of an event hosted by Cliff Kincaid, yesterday at the National Press Club. Headlining the Soros Files conference were Larry Grathwohl, Brandon Darby, Zubi Diamond, Tina Trent and Trevor Loudon.

See www.sorosfiles.com for more information.

Larry Grathwohl is renowned for having infiltrated the Weather Underground in 1969-70. Today, he denounced Robert Redford for making a movie based on The Company You Keep, a novel which glorifies that terrorist organization. Grathwohl said that he attended many Weather Underground meetings at which the terrorists discussed committing genocide.

Their plan, after taking over the country, was to herd 100 million Americans into concentration camps in the Southwest. A quarter of the prisoners — 25 million people — would be “shot” or “worked to death.”

I asked Grathwohl if Bill Ayers was at those meeting.“Yes,” he replied.

Barack Obama, let’s remember, launched his political career at Bill Ayers’ house. At present, Ayers exerts enormous influence over school curriculums throughout the United States.

According to Grathwohl, Bill Ayers said his wife, Bernadine Dohrn, planted the bomb that killed police officer Brian McDonnell.

See www.larry101st.blogspot.com for more information.

Brandon Darby started as a naive, idealistic activist who “bought into the false narrative that if you want to help people, vote left.” He worked with ACORN, the Black Panthers and Lisa Fithian, who would later organize the Occupy Wall Street movement. Hugo Chavez invited him to Venezuela for a month,” a frightening experience” that left him “a changed person.”

Darby came to understand that so many so-called civil rights organizations were really against civil rights, in that they wanted to deny civil rights to their opponents. He went undercover with the FBI to infiltrate terrorist organizations, helping to stop a plot to bomb the 2008 Republican National Convention. He described how The New York Times libeled him in order to defend those terrorists.

Was that you Brandon? The truth is out there!




Related Reading: More Cyberbullying by Neal Rauhauser (“@LulzShack”)

Has SWATgate Been Solved?

The first person SWATted was Crying Wolfe Blog. He's now reporting that the SWAT caller has been identified. From what I gather, it was some anonymous-4chan wannabe found in the recesses of tor ip's and backwater websites.

Mike says the SWAT calls were made for $20 a pop. Calls to Stranahan's radio show were charged $10 each.

It'd be nice to see confirmation of this.

Assuming this is true, and the FBI now has proof of who made the calls, several questions still remain. They will need to be answered before there is any pure closure to this alternative reality game cliffhanger.

*** The only available audio of Ron Brynaert is from an internet interview. I spoke to Ron a month or two ago. He sounds nothing like that audio. He's got a regular guy voice in real life. In the interview he sounds tinny and nasal. Was Ron Brynaert's interview voice mimicked by the SWATter? It sounds that way to me.

*** Will law enforcement be able to ascertain who paid the caller?

*** As in, were the SWAT calls ordered by a completely independent third party or by folks involved in the overall story?

*** If there was a direct connection to teams Breitbart and Numbnuts, one question tells me who was ultimately behind the SWAT calls. Cui Bono?

I hope this isn't a false alarm. I hope what Mike Stack reported yesterday is for real.

Form Letter For Hopeless Romantics

As a leftier than thou, I present the following form letter as a gift which may be used without attribution.

Dearest ______,

In From Here to Eternity, Montgomery Clift's character Robert E. Lee "Prew' Prewitt put it this way:

Nobody ever lies about being lonely.

Most people do not have that problem. They know how to play the game. One such schtick calls for playing hard to get. Translated that means be a macho f*ck, and the women will flock to you.

Of course such a route primarily leads to infidelity, divorce, and soulless existence. But you'll get laid very often by quite a number of people. Or you'll be stuck with someone who you still don't truly know despite having known them for many years or even decades.

According to the Bhagavad Gita, we have entered the Iron Age. We're talking darkness. Perhaps the greatest sociologist, Max Weber, described modernity as akin to living in an iron cage.

Pink Floyd spoke of The Wall. Idealists wonder why it had to be built so high. There's an eccentric, perhaps even cranky historic troll named donkeytale who speaks of fake left and right. He may have stolen that schtick from myself. He may actually be one of my 278 sock puppets. But I digress.

The world was not always like this. Things were fairly darn groovy well into the 70's. Even the 80's were still kind of hep.

Unfortunately the Reagan counter-revolution was successful, leading to Clinton triangulation. Democrats became Republicans. Republicans became wingnuts. Sensitivity became weakness. Love became an endangered species. Now I'm just rambling. Let's get to the point.

Yay, somehow hopeless romantic doesn't mean I'm actually hopeless or a stalker.

I do find it difficult to understand why you don't love me back. It's not like we just met. It's not like we haven't spent a lot of time together.

Dating a hopelessly romantic person when you are not hopelessly romantic

"Remember the essence of romance is doing something that you would not normally do, simply because you care. You may never buy a bunch of flowers for yourself, and that's exactly what makes it special. The recipient knows you did it just to show you care, and for no other reason."

You might be a hopeless romantic too, but since becoming jaded you buried that emotion. Or maybe you're not a hopeless romantic.

Perhaps the phrase is meaningless as in most people suck, while so-called hopeless romantics basically comprise most of the few people who truly care about humanity.

I'm not really finding good links on this topic. I'm just finding a lot of schlock similar to this mailed-in blog entry in the form of a form letter.

One link is so cruel towards my people. We are clingy freaks. Desperate. In love with being in love. Self-centered. Inconsiderate. Arrogant. Immature. Naive. Creepy. Obssessive. Insecure. Don't write complete sentences.

Does Anyone Actually Like Hopeless Romantics?

Don't listen to them. I love you. Love is real. Real is love.

(Sorry, the video is now unavailable)


Give me a call. We'll do sushi.

Take care Sweetie,

_________________
signature

Dept. of Defense Dumbass Outs Himself

I was on Twitter reading Crying Wolfe's feed and saw this:

DoD Counterintelligence Official Exposes Self on Internet - http://t.co/GkAbMz5a

Blogger Bob McCarty put up a screenshot filled with redactions from a private investigative website whose owner is the above flag waver. It took me five seconds on Yahoo cache to solve his name, that of his company, and his DoD status. I don't know what this signifies, but it's allowing me to bump donkeytale further down the DFQ2 front page.




Someone should inform Michael V. Porco he also needs to scrub his Linked In page. That too is telling the world he is "Deputy Director, Counterintelligence Functional Services at Under Secretary of Defense (Intelligence)."

I'm not sure if he is breaking any laws. Again, the main reason I wrote up this mailed-in entry was to bump donkeytale from the top slot. Though imho it appears dodgy that a P.I. company has easy access to tough to procure info.



This could be a job for intrepid reporter Ron Brynaert.

The Unbearable Triteness of Blogging

The patient sat silently, staring down at the shoes dangling from the examination table. His wife leafed through the fashion magazine she'd brought along with her from the waiting room.

After a delay, the doctor came in with a laptop tucked under his arm. He sat down and began to peruse the patient's medical record, making a few brief notes with a pencil as he tapped and clicked on the keyboard with his other hand.

Finally, he looked up at the patient.

= It's been eighteen months since your last visit. Everything OK?

The patient shrugged his shoulders but said nothing. The doctor looked over at the woman.

= I should make it mandatory that every man bring his wife along to the appointment. So, whats up with him?

The woman put down the magazine. Tears formed in her eyes.

= He's like this all the time now. He's not working, he's not eating. Nothing seems to interest him. He just sits and stares.

= Still smoking pot?

= He even smokes it while he's driving now! He's been arrested twice this year, once for possession and once for DUI.

= Don't forget to tell him about how I totalled your car when I got drunk...

The doctor made a face.

= Let me make a note of that. Totalled wife's car in drunk driving accident. Accident did not sever vocal chord. Injured?

= No. He passed out at the wheel and ran straight into a wall going forty five miles an hour and walked away unharmed. Thank God no one else was hurt, either.

The doctor stood up with his penlight to begin the routine ear examination.

= Parents still living?

= His father, yes. His mother passed away last summer.

= I remember your mother. I treated her for the flu once, didn't I?

= Yeah.

= Very nice woman, your mother. That was many years ago. She seemed healthy at the time. Did she stay in Texas?

= Went back to LA after my son started preschool.

= Cause of death?

= Lung cancer.

= Are you smoking?

= Just the green ones.

= OK, Good. No tobacco products. Did you get a chance to spend time with her at the end?

The patient stopped responding, having vacated the moment.  Mom'd been given less than six months after they discovered the cancer had spread to her liver. She held on, cheerfully and brave at first, for two more grotesque years.

Sister became very angry with him when he'd not visited as much as he should have.

= Get your butt on a plane and get out here, Pete. She's only holding on for you now...

He heard a lifetime of accumulated pain in her voice.

When he arrived he instantly wished he hadn't. She was no longer recognizable, a pale, withered, smelly, toothless hag weighing no more than seventy pounds.  She was barely conscious at all, and then only for short periods between the moaning and the speaking in tongues to phantoms. She no longer knew her only son.

He sat in the kitchen by himself that night, drinking beer and smoking his nephew's weed, until well after the others had gone to bed. For the first time in his charmed life, he realised there was nothing could be done.

Finally, he tiptoed into the living room dimly lit by the television's gloaming, and knelt before the misshapen mass slumped haphazardly before him in her favorite chair.

He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. From somewhere far from himself, he heard an urgent voice take command.

= Let's go, mom. It's time to go. Everybody's waiting for us back home.

She stirred slightly and buried her head under his chin. They stayed entwined for as long as he could stand it. Her breathing began to labour. Reluctantly, he let go and sat back in the sofa along the opposite wall. The coo-coo clock chimed thrice.

Sometime before daylight, she slipped away.