So. What a typical day. The newspaper has stories about how the Holy Roman Catholic Church protected child rapist priests in Los Angeles, the NRA wants no changes in gun laws except to pass legislation requiring every American to own at least three assault rifles, the Republicans in the House of Misrepresentation say the Prezzie’s Inaugural message was a bunch of bunk, and the 15-year old boy here to New Mexico who slaughtered his own family had plans to head over to the fucking Walmart to shoot some more people. All that and my ADHD is operating at high speed.
Bo-ring. I’m ready for some new news. I long for the good old days—whateverthefuck the good old days are.
Which reminds me. Let’s do some talking about the attack on our CIA listening station’s support installation in Benghazi, Libya, and get on with things. If you’ve watched or read any of the coverage, you have noticed that whenever top figures of the Obama administration address the Republicans’ accusations of a cover up, they each, and every one, mention, “If you’ll review the Classified reports, Senator, you’ll better understand…”
OK, look, guys. The Benghazi outpost was not an Embassy, it was an outpost organized to support a CIA “listening station”. My research into just what a CIA listening station might be has lead me to the conclusion that it is just what its name implies—it’s a secret place wherein (whereat?) CIA operatives listen to what local folks have to say on the airwaves, on their bugged telephones and Internet services, and in person. Most, if not all, of these CIA gathered listening activities are Classified, Classified meaning here “not for your eyes, unless of course, you’re a US Senator on this committee, shithead”.
Sooooooo, when the Secretary of State says, “Well, if you’ve read the Classified documents you’d know…” then you, Mr. Fuckball US Republican Senator, would know just how stupid your assertion/question is. Or, Mr. Senator Johnson from Wisconsin, when our new SOS, John Kerry, says to you, he says, “Those of us who attended the briefing and viewed the tapes…” you would realize that you are not simply a fool but, rather, you are a foolish asshole caught in his own traps.
Me, I think these shitheads have known the truth from the start and have used the fact that the facts have been Classified to cover the stink of their shit. I think they are using the fact that administration officials cannot mention classified information to beat them over the head with what info is unclassified.
You don’t need to be a security expert to know that during the initial weeks after the attack, we didn’t want the bad guys to know what we knew. Why risk additional human assets who may be working undercover just to help John McCain seem relevant? Why provide public information that could give clues to an informant’s identity?
Which reminds me. Today is the 40th anniversary of Roe V. Wade. Hip-fucking-hooray for women!!! One of my favorite commenters—Cynthianne from Albuquerque, New Mexico—will be in town to march the State House here to Santa Fe in support of that monumental Supreme Court decision. I’m trying to free my schedule to stand with her and will in any case meet her and her marcher buddies for a drink after.
I salute the strong women nationwide who will be in the streets today to celebrate Roe V. Wade—I give you a hearty “Hoo-Yaaa!”
As for the women and men who will be out against womens’ freedoms today, I have a quite different salute:
“Fuck you, assholes, and your horses too!!!”
And that sentiment brings on another thought. How can you be AGAINST womens’ reproductive rights and be AGAINST gun control as well? I have heard every single argument in support of denying a woman her right to make decisions about her own body, and each argument can be applied to the stand FOR gun control.
Anyway, right-wing Christian arch conservatism has, finally, jumped the shark. My God predicted this in one of Her visits last year. OK, maybe God was a Him during that particular visit or maybe an It. I say God sometimes visits as an It, but can a multi-hued ball of colorful gas have gender? If so, then my God is always either a Her or a Him.
At one time, whenever I would mention God’s visits I would say, “He/She/It.” Stopped that practice when I was in a counseling session with Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson this one time and she asked me to read a posting I’d written about one of God’s visits. I think it was the time when God visited me out to the fishing dock there to the Austin ranch. When I finished reading the passage, Sammie asked me, she asked, “What did He shit, Mooner? I didn’t hear anything about God defecating in your story.”
OK, stop. Further reflections lead me to think it was when God and I were discussing the Boy Scouts of America. Or was it one of the many visits to talk about Mother? Whatevertheshit, God is such a tricky subject. There are so many Gods and They’re so often misinterpreted—either by mistake or with purpose, both. Me, I really like mine. I can speak freely and ask questions and basically be myself with my God. All God asks in return is that I treat the rest of the Universe the way I wish the Universe to treat me.
Not such a bad deal, and that reminds me that I keep forgetting to ask God about Heaven. I wonder if I’ve earned my gate key yet? Hell, I wonder if my God even has a Heaven. And what about Hell? And why do black men have bigger peckers? And I really want to know is it chicken, or eggie? Oh, and what about that whole meaning of life scenario? Sounds like I’ve got some serious questions to ask my God.
Ugh. Maybe next visit.