You know who I am? I am that there boy, Joe’s, other self. Yes sir, I’m that other side of this here guy's frontal lobe! That’s a fact!
I don’t claim to know a whole lot about things. Heck, I’m just a weed-cheewin’ Iowa boy. I thought I’d just poke my head in the door and give my take on what the heck’s gone wrong with this darn country!
When I was a boy, in the early fifties, we were worried about all those Chinese comin’ over here and, killin’ us in our sleep! That, or the darn Russians were gonnna’ send over some Atomic missiles and bake up a mean batch of American pies. We were told to get under our desks at school and hide from this Armageddon as if it were Pigeon droppings! I mean, I’m no genius or nothin’ but, I saw those test films where the Atom Bomb blew away houses in waves of charred ruin. And, I know them school desks were pretty darn well-built but, holy Jehovah! they ain’t no match for the Atomic Bomb, Homer!
Then later, it was the old Domino Theory that became the focus of our sleepless nights. Now, the trouble with the Domino Theory is that we acted like it was a fact; a hard-nosed, bonafide, fact.
Anyways, we were still worried that China and Russia were gonna band together and, take us over. Heck, they hated each other worse than we did! How can two bitter enemies band together. They was almost at cotton-pickin’ war with each other!
Now, I think I might have an idea where that old tragic Domino Theory came from. It come right from the Generals. Yep! The generals. They was a’ smokin’ cigars and drinkin’ Bourbon one night, chewin’ the fat around a card table.
“Well, you watch and see!” one old war horse says, “they got half of Korea. Next thing you know they’ll wanna take all of Indo China; then, the rest of ‘em gonna fall like Dominos.” Thunk! Ting! Boing! Light! A theory is born that night around that there card table, all wrapped up in swaddlin’ military, green!
“Hey!” says another iron butt, “that’s not bad. Maybe we can cook us up some fightin’ time over that! We ain’t had us a scrap in some years now. My boys are just itchin’ to scruff a little.” These Generals never...never, realize that the only “scruffing” a war-weary country full of young able bodies wants to do, is with their ‘sweeties’ in bed, back home. All our boys was wantin’ to do was come home, buy a house, have some beautiful babies, and live out their lives in peace, for a change. But, you know, those old pot bellied bull-crappers don’t care about normal, peaceful, life. They didn’t have one! They didn’t want one. An idle General is very dangerous thing.
Oops! I done fell off my John Deere 60 Series, Harvest Smart, Combine there.
So the Generals; and in those days there was a few that were a little tipsy, on the mind side a’ things, put out this here Domino Theory, in what they called a ‘white paper’. Now, a ‘white paper’ was this formal looking document that had all the appearances of a Thesis; but, the rhetoric of a, hell and fire, Biblipaedia! You’d think all hell was comin’ down around us! And, of course, them blow hards up in Congress got a hold of it and you’d a’ thought the ‘Second Coming’ had just cancelled his concert! Holy Lucifer!

All right Hank, it's time for you to shut yer' flamin' flap! I'm sorry everybody. Sometimes ole hank has to just flap his jaw! I'll take care of this. Y'all have yer sef a great day now!
Hank shut up!

We are currently directing our hostile, preemptive-strike policy towards Iran. They, the Bushanese, are speaking the words of deception, in threatening tones, towards the alleged actions of providing weapons, and Iran’s capturing those that intrude upon their lands. This deliberate actions are designed to shed a hostile light upon Iran. It is the old war-time two step from the Bushanese. God, they are good at this! It is working. We are visiting the birth of a new altercation with another country. The Bushanese are stirring up hatred for Iran.
John McCain’s little musical trip in response to a man at a campaign rally, who asked: “When are we going to send Iran an air mail message?”. McCain went into a little joke about “Bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb Iran, to the tune of the old song “Barbara Ann”.
It’s out there, folks! It’s out there! The people are beginning to say it!
Holy shit, we are going into Iran! Holy shit!

Holy Shit!

It was so strange. It was one of those nights when I was awakened by a new 'mare'. I floated away from disaster, arms spread, towards what I believe was heaven. I awakened just in time. I don't want heaven yet. It inspired a past post about my heritage.
But this Easter was very enlightening for me. I got to meet the Easter Bunny!
Gee, what agreat guy! Later he and I lifted a few at the tavern. Thanks, Easter Bunny, for a gereat time. Thanks for the candy too!
But this post concerned my night's diturbance. I awakened at 1:30 am. The rest follows:

There’s nothing weird about snow in April, but the sky has that eerie, pinkish, back light to the clouds that seems to tell you something strange is happening. Even at 1:30 in the morning, it isn’t dark. A train comes through town blowing that wailful horn. Why does it feel like the end of the earth? I can image Hank Williams’ torture when he wrote “I’m so lonesome I could cry”. It is so quiet you can hear the birds sleeping, yet the emptiness exists in an early morning loneliness. I am alone in the world. All are sleeping but me. Why is it that I cannot find comfort? Annie, my dog, is with me. She always wants to plays “sticks” with me. She does that because she knows she always wins the tug-of-war. She’s the best ‘stick’ Dog I’ve ever had.
I’m standing out here in my own yard, yet it feels so, nowhere. The cold air bristles my neck, and collar. Snow now covers the yard table. Six hours ago I watched the St Louis Cardinals beat Pittsburgh, in a baseball game on TV. I was elated; now I feel this emptiness, although I am standing in the same spot I was six hours ago. Isn’t it funny how life turns? Now I’m down in the bowels of my home writing about it. It’s a ‘clear’ thing. I have love all around me, yet I feel this strange loneliness.
We all are within ourselves, in our own little universe. My wife sleeps in comfort, and I sit, wearing my little crown of gloom. I think it’s the early morning that makes it feel that way. Writing is a very lonely process. No one else can come into it with me. When I am writing, and some one calls my name, it disturbs that entire part of my life that I am in. Thought and ideas are sent to the air and I can’t find them again. They are my only friends, or family, then, and I want them to stay with me. They become frightened, and run away, when anyone interferes. I think that is what makes the very early morning so good for this. There is no one here, accept my words and I. I love them so. It’ is a different love; it is a compulsive love, to find them and put them down on permanent cages. I trap them like Rabbits because they skitter, and will run at a second’s notice. I am in the world of my mind; I am so happy here.

The stern mast whipped the salt sea into our faces sa hard, it was like there’s a thousand pins in each breath we took. Our stomachs were sa’ empty we had na’ eatin’ in a month; food would kill us fer sure. I dreamed of home so often ma’ heart broke into tears. I missed ma’ Mum sa’ bad; her cradlin’ arms were sa’ far from anywhere. I could ‘a jumped in that sea many times. Get this sadness beyond my longin’.

God knows I’m an Irishman; he surely wouldn’t let me die this a’way.

I’m a’ cryin’ to ya’ Lard; don’t let me die until I sees ma’ new land. We left that roll a few months ago, and ma’ heart was so longing ta’ be with my sweet Emmie. She left the land sa long ago, her face is in each blink of me eyes, lads. Don’t know if she made there ‘r not. If she’s there we’ll be in lovin’s arms again soon. The sweet sight of her is the only thing keepin’ me alive. Good God, brothers, we been a seain’ fer so long a’time. I cross ma heart fer the day when I can stand on somethin’ other than a ship deck.

God knows, I’m an Irishman; he surely wouldn’t let me die this a’way.

Lads, we need us a song ta sing. Come on now Jimmie, hit the barrel! You Paul, stretch that rope across yer knee; Henry, do that great thing with yer, sweet vocal cards. Let’s sing lads! Let’s sing this sadness from our souls. No mind the damn sea Frances, you bow-legged villabee; let’s dance. Come on lads, up with yer voices; play the music of our sweet land!

I’ll be damn if I’m a gibberish;
and I left ma’ home for long
ain’t dead so far, so fill up ma’ jar
for the brew will make us strong.
I once knew a girl from Balbragan
she was a fine lookin’ lass
she let me slip, into her skip
and now I’m a drunkin’ ass
It’s fine bunch a’ lads ye are
We had us a time did we
but, until our hands can find the new land
we’ll never more be free lads,
we’ll never more be free.

It’s a sadness that grips my soul now. This sea is a lonely place for a long-lost lad like me. We Colemans aren’t used ta’ bein’ alone. The waves make me stomach feel like a bloated dead fish fer seven days. God, I feel so bad ma face can’t cry. I long fer the marnin’ Sun to burn the pain away. Aye, there’s a finger a’risin from the sea ahead. Maybe that’s the serpents a’comin’ ta’ take us back tot he potato fields. ‘Tis a strange thing that comes upon us. If it were marnin’ I could make it out better. Whatever ‘tis, I’m a’hopin’ we don’t hit the blamin’ thing. Wait a minute lads; boys, I be thinkin’ that’s not a finger. ‘Tis a hand lads; ‘tis a hand holdin’...
Look there lads! Look lads! There she is, lads! A’shinin in the Sun, just like a golden plate a’ God almighty! There she is lads! The finest lady I ever laid me eyes upon, outside me own sweet Mum. That’s her boys; that’s a grand dream of us all.
We’re home lads; we’re finally a’comin’ home!
Here’s to ya’ boys. We’re all Immigrants. As long as people want the dream, God bless us, and welcome to the land of our new life.

God knows I’m an Irish American; ya’ kin let me die that way!
_____________________________________________________________________

In 1848, Robert Coleman came to America. He was a musician, and a poor lad, beset by the strains of poverty and famine. Many of his family died as a result. I am blessed by his coming. He was my blood, my soul, and my life. Bless you Robert.

(Why do we, suddenly, call them ‘the troops’? They're soldiers damn it!).
If our military is so strapped that we can’t exist if we don’t have these funds now, then Bush is still not planning ahead correctly. He acts as if ‘the troops’ (soldiers) will be left high and dry if these funds aren’t given immediately! That says to me, that the planning on his war, is still not being done, properly. You can’t run a car on empty all the time! You can’t tell me the defense department doesn’t have the money to support these soldiers.
Bush says the legislation is “full of pork”. What a revelation! What bill isn’t full of the old Pig’s ass! Funds are not being held up by the Democrats; they’re being held up by a bull-headed president, who can’t get it into his thick skull that the people have spoken; they want an end to this Bushanese madness!
Bush says the Democrats are following “a strategy that will needlessly delay funds for our troops”. Well, the Democrats are not delaying; the money is being given. It is George W. Bush who will be delaying the funds! The Democrats just want a deadline set for beginning the withdrawal from Iraq. The Generals also have indicated they seek to begin a withdrawal. Are they “cutting and running”? Why not just say it?
Bush says that putting a deadline will “throw Iraq into further chaos”! Jesus George, you’ve already thrown them into total chaos. You’ve turned that country into a nest of terrorism! They weren’t on the list of 25 terrorist states until you invaded them, ya’ bloody dumb ass!

This must end!

The ghosts of Viet Nam are haunting our ‘mares’! I can see Lyndon Johnson, knowing we could not ‘prevail’ in Viet Nam, and continuing to pursue a senseless war!
On September 12, 2001, we had the whole world with us; we could have gotten them all behind us in seeking the terrorists that did this unthinkable act. The French papers said: “We are all Americans!”. Bush wanted Iraq all to himself; and he thought it was just crumble in his hands like a dry Autumn leaf! My God, AlQaeda is glad we attacked Iraq alone. It was a creamy dream for them. George “Butthead” Bush played right into their hands.
If getting Saddam was the real goal, why didn’t we do it like we’ve done every other country? Go in with covert CIA, and foment the people to over throw! That’s our MO. That’s what we did in Iran when we installed the Shah. We’re doing it in Iran right now! I don’t agree with what we’ve done in the past in Chile, Guatemala, in Iran, in Argentina (then and now!), in Colombia, with the Contra. We’ve done this for decades, and it’s all about Corporate! It’s all about control! It is all about money! And, speaking of money; what the hell happened to all that money? Where is that $40 Billion dollars that is missing, and unaccounted for? Did we just hand it out to people?

This must end!

George W. Bush has made a mistake! It takes a real man to stand up and admit he made a mistake. But then, look whose president! I have a fake Time magazine cover on my garage refrigerator. It has a picture of G.W. Bush on it saying: “We’re fucked!”.
My God, it’s true! It’s true! Is anyone gratified, or sexually, satisfied?