Might I Suggest Columbia?

Last night Dana Falls entered the halls of legend. I’ve seen this before. I looked into the eyes of my daughter in law one afternoon and realized that little Jewish Body wasn’t big enough to contain that spirit the world had come to know as IJackie. Dana put on Jackie’s shoes last night, and picked up the flag of truth. 
The personality I dubbed “Beetlejuice” has been sparring with Dana for months. It started out simple enough. Beetlejuice wouldn’t know the truth if it ran up and bit him in he ass. He grabs things out of the air that have absolutely no basis in reality. From huge offshore bank accounts to lunch dates with Donald Trump his imagination knows no limitations. According to him he has built mansions on Long Island, negotiated with the Mafia and instigated massive lawsuits that brought down the city of Samokin, New Jersey. Touting being a millionaire, a quick Google search reveals a net worth of $4,000 to $250,000 depending on which reading you accept. His criminal record is also easily attainable, and he denies it, but another very public search reveals his parole date.
He devised a plan to revitalize the town of Samokin, and approached the city council with a proposed budget of thirteen million dollars to follow it through. The council smelled smoke in his Samokin deal and said, “Naw!” Never to be one to miss a beat he then turned on a dime claiming to have “private investors” and accused the council of “setting him up.” He really missed his calling because his YouTube videos garnered about 80,000 views each. It wasn’t bad, but he was no i Jackie. 
During this series he became entangled with a conflict of interest involving a towing business and decided it was time to jump parole. You know, that parole he wasn’t on, or really wasn’t on or . . . well, you know. In a brilliant stroke he continued his video career taunting Federal Marshalls, that’s right, FEDERAL marshals, and continued to do so until they slapped the cuffs on him in New York, and took him back to the calaboose. 
When he got out he found his way to California where he devised something called “Rainmaker.” Wasn’t a bad idea, real estate promotion, but the Murphy’s Law of Beetlejuice kicked in, and in short order he was “smoking” back to New Jersey with a new business plan. According to the Conservative Nation, his March for America marched to the tune of around ten thousand dollars for a “nationwide” effort to elect Donald Trump. Guess he told the truth because “The Donald” did win. This is my surprised face. 
He still runs March for America with an iron hand. During his three hour rambling videos if anyone excuses their self to go to the bathroom they are instantly labeled a “troll” and shown to the door by loyal lemmings who are hanging on every word that proceeds from the prophet’s mouth. His feeds are a mix of plagiarizing Alex Jones and others intermingled with guest shots of his family lamenting murderous attacks on them, and a huge dash of legal threats against the group of Housewives from Facebook who have figured him out, and make no secret about it. The funny part is he’s GOOD at this. All his story line consists of is a jailhouse rock employed by all convicts trying to make parole A little of this, a dash of that, and presto! Cow paddie pie!. While Dana Falls was pulling his underwear down last night, exposing his entire ass, he was doing a feed against her, me, and others, and there wasn’t a word of truth in ANY of it! From vast estates on Long Island to saying the Federal Marshall’s were “on the way” with the obligatory waving of the legal papers, of course. I was so upset that I tried to surrender today. Uh, if you will notice I’m back home writing this article instead.  
I like Beetlejuice. I might owe this guy money. Book sales are rolling in, video hits are up, and every time he settles down I just stick a pin in his ass, and he fires right back up again. His trusty assistant, I call her Jane Hathaway, sits in some hotel room somewhere, and keeps the show going (Thank you Jane) and the Real Housewives of Facebook are on him like Micheal Moore on a ham sandwich. Life is GOOD! But, alas, all good things must end. Between failed T-Shirt orders and Mafia contracts this story will run its course and I’ll move onto another story. He, I suppose will retire to somewhere that he has “offshore money.” May I suggest Columbia?


Flying Planes and Pigs

Flying planes and pigs. Write that down, there’ll be a quiz later. The collapse of the World Trade Center has spawned the most conspiracy theories since the assignation of JFK. When you have such a catastrophic event there are three positions: Right, left, and somewhere in the middle. The right is total acceptance of the government line, i.e. an old man in a cave talked nineteen religious nuts into grabbing planes and flying them unimpeded into the tallest buildings in the world. The left imagines that George Bush remotely controlled the planes while Dick Chaney computed stock options on Halliburton, and those that try to come up with a combination look for bombs planted within the buildings that gave the illusion of the planes bringing the buildings down all by themselves. 
The truth is always a combination of all three. No one position is absolutely correct. I’ve dodged peeling this onion for years, but I want to apply Simple Ol’ Boy logic here, and see where it leads to. Let’s look at what we know. Two jets absolutely DID hit the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. All the wild eyed theories that the images were superimposed at a later date, or the news networks were in some collusion with the government to enhance those images simply won’t hold water. Get that idea out of your head. But, like Alex Jones points out, there IS a problem. Planes hit tall buildings all the time. One spectacular crash into an apartment building in Russia comes to mind. Only difference? That crash in Russia, and others, did NOT reduce said buildings to the pile of rubble we saw in New York on that day. With all the calculations put out by the “official” investigation about “pancake” effects of floors falling upon each other it’s frankly hard to swallow that many pancakes. 
The plumes of smoke shooting out in advance below the collapsing floors lend credence to the possibility of some kind of explosive charge being employed to facilitate the destruction of the buildings, and that’s plural boys and girls. Two perfect hits, and two buildings falling perfectly down into their own footprint. Even accepted controlled demolitions tilt this way or that. Three for three! Wish I could get those odds in Vegas. Just for good measure, building seven went down the exact same way, and they didn’t even bother to provide the obligatory plane crash to spice it up. GREEN BASTARD! When you analyze such an event you simply must differentiate between the possible, the impossible, and outhouse crazy. To subscribe to the government line is in the outhouse. 
So, the planes did impact the Center, but in all likelihood the ultimate fulfillment of this Islamic pipe dream occurred with a little help from our friends. Let’s look at our friends, shall we? The majority of the hijackers that day were Saudis. Now, I’m not racially profiling, if it walks lake a duck, and prays like a duck, then it’s a duck. These guys were a special kind of crazy. Religious vigor is one thing, incinerating one’s self in the hope of seventy-two hot dates in heaven is way down the other way, and throwing baseballs at the stands. The Saudis are NOT our friends. They wear sheets and kill pretty teenage girls for being pretty. They also kill homosexuals. DUDE! Make a choice!
When I wrote on the JFK thing, in conclusion I said do not ask IF Lee Harvey Oswald was in that window that day, but HOW did he get there, and WHO put him up there. Same thing here. Nineteen real guys knocked down three buildings and blew up a fourth. Now, boys and girls, these were not the brightest crayons in the box! They believe the Qu’ran for God’s sake! So, these cats commandeered four planes, turned around, three out of four achieved perfect hits, and not even ONE F-16 fired a single bullet. Flew into the Pentagon! Let’s try a little test. Go rent a plane and fly over the White House. Heck, for that matter, put your baby daughter in a car and try to drive up the White House drive way. Take a little scenic flight over Fort Hood. See how that works out for you. 
One of two possibilities roll out. Either George Bush WAS flying those planes, or he made sure that them that were had no problems at all. No problem boarding. No problem taking over the plane. Cell phone and air control traffic out the kazoo, but nobody noticed, and those that did were spinning around, sniffing glue like the air traffic controller in the movie, “Airplane!” If you believe that have I got a bridge for you, and it’s on SALE! And what was the President of the United States doing long about this time? In a room with a bunch of kids, sucking lollipops and reading Mother Goose. I can give you free delivery on that bridge. 
It is virtually impossible for nineteen camel jockeys who can barely use toilette paper to engineer that attack without someone at LEAST providing a clear field of attack by disabling, or pulling back the natural defenses provided by both civilian and military units in the continental United States. Is that racist enough for you. I got lots! If the United States were to unleash its true military might on the entire Middle East their entire culture would last, oh say, fifteen minutes. Russia may take a half hour to eliminate them. But, the government would have us believe that the biggest attack EVER on US soil was pulled off by a bunch of salt water wetbacks under the guidance of some cat in a cave on a walking stick. There is your viable connection between those who controlled our government and those who controlled goats. 
Now, I’m not going to get all into holograms, where the bombs were placed, or mythical passports found in some bar b q pit. I’m sticking with what I do know. Buildings fell, THEY couldn’t do it without help, and President Trump is about to open this box of chocolates and see what’s REALLY inside. Now, I’m just a Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin, and everyone is all scared of World War Three, but I’ll tell you how many nuclear bombs should be dropped if that should ever occur. ONE! Right smack dab on TOP of the Kaaba, and the world will be done with this whole sorry mess! 

March For America 

March For America was a grassroots effort that basically had no roots, but rather was directed from the top down, that direction stemming from the ambitions of one man rather than the wishes of the members constituting the membership looking for new directions to restore America to greatness. Riding the tide of popular public opinion, that which catapulted Donald J. Trump, the members of the organization felt the groundswell of change, and believed that the efforts of the group were in concert with the growing mood of the nation. This was an illusion, perpetrated by the sole ownership of the political group by that man who wielded absolute power over the minds, and will of the members thereof.

While strong leaders are desired, absolute leaders are a detriment to the evolving philosophy of any movement where differing opinions, or answers are suppressed as the leadership strives to perpetuate its grip on the people who while feeling the euphoria of unified purpose cannot see that only blind ambition exists. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, and in short order March For America was absolutely corrupt. Ideas and input were suppressed, and members supposedly in positions of influence quickly realized that they were in fact only placeholders at the mercy of the real power which was at the very top resting in the hands of one man. What could have been a resurgence of American idealism was reduced to a series of failed marches, infighting, threats, and fear.

Are the members of this organization evil? No! The dream that led them into the movement came with good heart. That heart is still there, but drawn into a personality cult that has blinded them to the light that drew them in the first place. If they can be shown that light again the dream within their souls will rise, and the spirit that formed the movement will resurrect, with new vigor. How do we do this?

We reach out. We have been warned not to communicate with members for they are the sole property of the party. We have been told that there are dire consequences should we even utter the holy name of the high priest, or the organization, and the members have been instructed to resist communication with anyone who has been excommunicated. This, in and of itself shows the true spirit that is over March For America at the present time which is directly opposite of the foundation that was presented originally. If any member should question the edicts of the party they are immediately subject to the Inquisition, forever banned from even expression of the simplest thoughts.

But, we can resist. We are the Army of the Dead, and from our ashes the movement will live once again. The solution is education and information to the hearts and minds within the party. Not by force, or intrigue, but by willingness to serve, and desire to free those who are holding onto the dream while all the while giving up the very freedom that brought them there in the first place. Any movement, or party is ultimately governed by the people who constitute the living body and mind of that party, and that people retain the right to govern themselves. And so it will be with March For America. It would be a sad thing if such a gathering were to dissipate into oblivion because of the blind ambition of one man. The power, and ability of this group of patriots does not lie within the mind of that one man but in the will of the people that compose the majority.

I was asked today how do we stop this? We don’t! We grow it, but we give it to the people who came forth in the first place and make it clear that the movement was not the will, or idea of a man, but of God, and once the people regain that control March For America will truly begin to march, and the movement will indeed be what it was intended to be .

From Luby’s to the Ashes of Mount Carmel

I’ve been from Luby’s to the ashes of Mount Carmel. As I watch the childish LiveFeeds on Facebook I reflect. People who have never been there, never paid the price, yet have an opinion, say they know everything, yet have not been there, or seen. They form groups, or causes, yet know nothing about the Bundy Ranch, or LaVoy Finicum, or CJ Grisham, 
During the last week I have endeavored to calm the nerves of good people who have been put into an alarmist state by these “prophets of doom” spilling their half baked ideas all across the internet, and I am beginning to see some fruit come from my efforts. What has amazed me is the amount of education I’ve had to dispense in order to fill this prescription. 
Back when I was in school it was mandatory that we took a civics class. In fact, Texas History was mandatory, too. We had to learn WHAT a democrat was, WHAT a republican was, WHY the Alamo happened, and just what position Texas held in the United States. It was incredibly boring, but we knew who our representatives were, when the elections were, and more specifically, just HOW those elections actually worked. 
I learned about the electoral college in the fourth grade! That’s right. Our teacher explained in detail about how all the classrooms would have an election, and one, two, or three students would be chosen from each class to take the results of that vote to the office, and put a slip of paper in a shoe box. From that the student council president would be chosen. Then, it was explained about how one student from each class, no matter how large or small, would be chosen to serve on the council. I understood all of this in the fourth grade! 
There were the usual heated discussions about “fair” and “unfair” and the teacher taught us the distinct difference between democracy, and republic. We resolved the issues at eight years old that people like Jill Stein are still struggling with today, and THAT, my fellow Americans, is what is why you saw demonstrators in the streets who hadn’t even bothered to vote! 
Then along come the Facebook community commentators, who, while knowing very little about the process of government, have tons to say about false flags, red flags, and just about anything that seems to be on the rag. Back in the day we watched pro wrestling, but babies in diapers knew it was fake. We knew that Oral Roberts really couldn’t replace a missing leg, and read the National Enquirer for entertainment, NOT news! Now, these “alternative news” sources grace our iPads, with the exact same nonsense, and everyone runs to their doctor to up their blood pressure medicine. These “commentators” are no more a news source than Gorgeous George was a wrestler! 
The people sucked in by all this are not stupid. They have been thrown into a fit over these stories and are genuinely upset. I said recently that the easy fix for this is just wait. The electoral college was hacked. No it wasn’t. George Soros owns the voting machines, and all votes are going to go for Hillary. No they didn’t. The electors are going to go renegade and thirty of them are going to jump the isle. No they didn’t. The results will be contested, and the joint session of congress will be thrown into debate, giving the victory to the democrats. Didn’t happen. Now, I’m just a simple old boy from Austin, but do y’all see a pattern here? 
When Doc Greene jerked me off that porch, back in 2012, I didn’t know squat about Texas politics. Like my friend, Juan, says, “I ain’t even gonna lie to chew!” Oh, I understood the processes, learned THAT in the fourth grade, but issues, positioning, standings, and the political hybrid, “RINO” were things I had to learn, and learn I did. At first I took the Will Rodgers approach, replacing political knowledge with humor, and clever writing, but slowly I began to develop, and the humor was supplanted with actual political Savvy that would prove out, given time. That’s how I predicted that Donald Trump would be president during the first debates. I looked at the crowds. Oh, I learned to COUNT in the fourth grade, too.
I’ve told you about that pendulum that swings from left to right. Well, I was right on that one, too. Now, all of this wailing, and gnashing of teeth you hear from the left; did you think they’d take their medicine with a smile? We didn’t give them Castor Oil, we gave them an enema. They are in sack cloth, with the ashes of Mount Carmel being poured over their heads, and unlike the city from the Bible these people will not repent! They will whine, and scream, and generate fake news for any political novice on Facebook with a Livefeed to take, and run with. But, for every smooth talking head, sprinting for the goal post, there’s always a line backer like me to knock the wind out of them. The cheerleader who gets one too many beers and passes out gets REALLY upset when she wakes up in the back of a pickup wearing someone else’s shirt, and brothers and sisters, Donald Trump is going to put that shirt on the liberal left on January 20, 2017!