POOKIE FOR PRESIDENT:
Please see the blog: http://papajoestales.wordpress.com/
1. Parody this:
According to news reports this weeks leader of the pack vying for the GOP nomination to run for President, Newt Gingrich, was said to be paid at least $1.6 million by Freddie Mac. Paul Krugman observed:
“The thing I think people find hard to wrap their minds around is the following non-contradiction:
Freddie Mac was a deeply corrupt institution
Freddie and Fannie did not cause the financial crisis
These are not opposing statements. Those of us attacking the Big Lie about the financial crisis are not defending Freddie.
That said, as a believer in the importance of the humanities, I do have to appreciate Freddie’s appreciation for the uses of historians. At least, that’s what Gingrich says he was paid for.”
In fact, it turns out that according to former Freddie Mac officials familiar with his work in 2006 Gingrich was asked to build bridges to Capitol Hill Republicans and develop an argument on behalf of the company’s public-private structure that would resonate with conservatives seeking to dismantle it.
As usual, the Newtster not only was not hired to do what he said he was hired to do, and he failed at doing what he was hired to do, but he also pocketed a cool $1.6 million in the process. Newt is my idol. I only hope I can do on my own campaign one-tenth as well as Newt.
2. And this:
JOURNAL SENTINEL: Would you favor a military strike against Iran to stop that country from developing a nuclear capability?
HERMAN CAIN (leading candidate for the Republican nomination for President of the United States): That is not a practical, top-tier alternative and here’s why. If you look at the topography of Iran. Where are you going to strike? It’s very mountainous. That’s what makes it very difficult.
The Cain Doctrine: The US shall not bomb bumpy countries. Hmm…maybe Herman should stick to knowing nothing foreign policy.
Remember this has nothing to do with climate change. This has all happened before, like when an asteroid crashed into the earth there was a lot of storms, right. Besides even if something is going on, we had nothing to do with it. It is God’s will, or caused by Obama, Muslims or Mexicans. Everything will work out if we only had less regulation, criminalize abortion and bomb Iran. See, we are environmentalists too, everything is connected.
Andrea Jones is a transsexual woman from Tennessee who took a letter from the surgeon who performed her orchiectomy to a state DMV office in Morristown in order to have the gender marker on her driver’s license changed. She was denied.
Logically, if the state was not going to consider her legally a woman, then Andrea was legally a man, she reasoned…so when she exited the office into the parking lot, she removed her shirt.
“If I was a male, I had the right to, when I stepped out the door, take off my shirt.”
She was arrested for indecent exposure.
TODAY’S NEWS FROM AMERICA:
According to news reports, the new Italian Cabinet contains no “politicians,” instead it is made up of bankers, businessmen and diplomats, the very people who brought on the financial crisis.
This is supposed to be an improvement? I would think picking people at random off the streets of Rome would do a better job.
It has been reported that there is only a 29 day supply of cooking oil in the US.
A few months ago the same situation in Thailand almost brought down the government.
POOKIE’S ADVENTURES IN CALIFORNIA:
I went to SF to have dinner with Terry and Sally Goggin. They asked me to say no more about it and so I shall not except that I enjoyed myself and the steak was delicious.
Upon my return to Sacramento, SWAC picked me up at the train station. On the drive back to the house she mentioned that she had attended Hayden’s Thanksgiving play at school, a rare occurrence. She also told me how proud she was of his performance, a first as far as I can recall.
Autumn has fled taking its colors with it. Winter sits brooding on the Central Valley. The clouds are piled high upon the mountain tops of the Sierras to the East. The warmth has been scoured from the valley by the flood of cold air descending from the peaks.
The clouds fill the eastern sky and overhead with great balls of fluff while the sky remains blue in the West. The edges of the clouds facing the descending western sun blaze white, their lee and undersides, black and threatening.
The wind has stripped many of the trees of their color leaving them grey and stark and the ground littered with brown arboreal detritus.
It has begun to rain, a light rain. It is time for me to crawl into bed and bury myself under the covers and contemplate the coming darkness. But by tomorrow, I will wake and remember that springtime is sure to return. I hope.
MOPEY JOE’S MEMOIRS:
A few days ago, I read a news reportibg that Sharon Stone‘s signing to play Linda Lovelace’s mother in an up coming biopic called, “Lovelace.”
Linda Lovelace (originally Linda Boreman) was my first wife’s younger sister, so I obviously knew her mother well. Sharon Stone is not who I would have chosen to play her. On the basis of physical appearance, personality and hair style, the Kathy Bates of “Misery” would be more appropriate.
Linda’s mom, following the all too frequent and normal indiscretions of a teenager of the time, found herself unmarried, with a child and, it being the 1940s, with little hope of finding a husband as she was during those dark days considered “damaged goods.” However, as luck, pluck or whatever would have it, she found someone who did marry her, and had two additional children, my ex-wife Jeanne and Linda. As was not unusual during those times and in that social strata, Linda’s mom then became a religious fanatic and often beat her daughters for exhibiting the slightest evidence of sexuality, all to no avail with any of the three sisters.
Linda’s dad was a tall man, a gentle giant, 6’7″ or so and looked a little like Liam Nielsen with a weak chin. I liked him a lot. He was a kind, humorous inoffensive man. My mom referred to him as the most ineffectual man she had ever met. That is saying something given my Mom’s long marriage to my father who, love him as I did, nevertheless topped my list for that particular classification.
Linda’s dad drank a lot. In fact he drank rather steadily and as far as I can recall was drunk more often that he was sober, a sweet, funny, black out kind of drunk.
He also had a bad back, a disk problem of some sort in his lower back. One afternoon we came into the house and found him on his knees on the floor with his face pressed into the sofa. At first we thought him drunk, having found him like this several times before. We usually just left him alone like that to sleep it off. It was only when we heard a groan and a muffled cry for help that we realized that he had thrown out his back and we quickly called for an ambulance.
Linda’s dad was a NY City police patrolman. He joined the force for the sole purpose of putting in his 20 years or so and retire to live in Florida. His career was notable for his never having received a promotion or a commendation. Its other highlights were that he never took a bribe, never unholstered his gun and never issued a ticket of any kind. As a result, his superiors regularly assigned him to the worst beats and saddled him with the worst shifts (e.g., 3 AM to 11 AM) imaginable where he continued to steadfastly refuse to notice any crimes committed in his vicinity whatsoever.
Perhaps it was his incorruptibility or his stoic refusal to notice the criminality around him that prompted the station captain, once a month, to choose him to drive him around to the businesses within his precinct to collect that months graft payments.
Linda herself was, for the most part, a friendly, attractive, empty-headed teenager, the kind that used to be called a valley girl here in California.
When she was about 16 years old, her father retired and promptly moved the family which now consisted only of himself, his wife and Linda, to Florida, the older two girls having married and were busy raising families of their own. They settled on a town called Opa-Laka in a home he had purchased years ago in preparation for retirement. Opa-laka originally was basically a retirement community for NYCPD patrolmen but over the years has degenerated into one of the Miami areas worst slums.
Within a few months Linda was thrown out of the home by her parents and returned to NY to live with her sister and me, our two babies, Jason and Jennifer, and our neurotic dog in our large home in Yorktown Heights on the uppermost reaches of Westchester County.
I remember that time fondly, especially because it was during her stay that Linda gave me my first toke of Marijuana, for which I will always be grateful to her.
Linda was also affectionate. Every evening as her sister and I lay in bed, before retiring into he own bedroom, she would come in to give us a goodnight Kiss and hug, wearing see through bikini pajamas. (I wonder if that will make it into the movie.)
Another notable thing about Linda was that she was utterly unable to answer a question without including a large dose of fantasy. Although she did this at times to deceive, she also did it when deception was not an issue. For example, if you came upon her eating a bowl of ice cream and you asked her if she was enjoying it, she would launch into an often quick-witted response denying she was eating ice cream at all.
Another thing about her was that she was a clever, enterprising and successful shopper, amassing closets full of the latest fashions and accessories, all without paying a cent for them.
At that time I was a trial lawyer in NYC of some local repute having accumulated one of the longest consecutive string or victories in jury trials in NY up until that time. It was not that I was a particularly good lawyer, I was not, I couldn’t recognize a rule of evidence if it punched me in my nose. But it seemed my particular brand of opinionated, didactic certainty made juries believe I knew what I was talking about and that I actually believed whatever crap I was saying. My goal in life at the time was to become like one of the great trial lawyers of the past and die of cirrhosis of the liver before I was 40.
I was a lousy husband, often uncommunicative, angry and during trial entirely preoccupied. I was also a black out drunk. After each victory I would eat a big meal, drink until I blacked out and disappear for days at a time, eventually waking up, still dressed in my three-piece black pin striped Brooks Brothers suit, Homburg hat and grey leather gloves in places like the men’s room in Grand Central Station lying on the floor in my own vomit.
On News Year’s Day morning, when Jennifer was about 9 months old, I was awakened by the screams of my wife coming from the nursery. “My baby, my baby, something has happened to my baby,” she screamed over and over. I rushed into the baby’s room. Jennifer was dead, a crib death I was later told.
She was splotched all purple and red where the blood had pooled. Her body stiff and cold as I hopelessly tried to blow life into that tiny body, until the ambulance arrived and the emergency crew pulled me away and out of the bedroom.
About two weeks after the funeral, my wife left me taking the other child, Jason with her. Three months later, my life having collapsed around me, I left for Europe with Jason.
I was a traditional sort of person at that time in my life, Catholic, Republican, ruthless and often drunk. As such, I believed that a child should be with his mother. Unfortunately after discovering the child with cigarette burns over most of his body, a judge awarded me custody.
I resumed my legal career working for an American law firm in Rome, practicing international tax and corporate law, areas I know nothing about and was awful at.
Jason lived in a small mountain village with my great-aunt. He thrived there. When he walked through the town people would call out to him and wave as though he was a celebrity.
When I decided to return to the US, I took him with me. I regret that decision more than almost any other decision in my life. I was not a competent father, nevertheless I removed him from a stable environment where an entire village loved him and resettled him into a life where he was often alone or left with an almost virtual stranger while I strove to save the coast or otherwise engage in whatever self-indulgence appealed to me at the time.
I have never been able to shake the guilt I feel at his current unhappiness. What is worse, I seem to be able to deal with it only by ignoring it.
JOEY’S MYSTERY NOVEL:
a. Cracked News from “Not the Nation” (the Thai “Onion”):
BANGNA – The massive flooding crisis in central Thailand came to an abrupt end when all flood-related problems were solved virtually overnight by the opening of a new IKEA branch in the Bangkok suburb of Bangna.
The long-anticipated home furnishings and accessories store proved to be a surprisingly well-stocked source of everything that was in short supply in flood-ravaged provinces, including an apparently endless supply of “DRYCK” drinking water, “RIS” rice in 20-kilo bags, and small, navigable boats made of MDF and easily assembled using just a hex-key tool and the provided, easy-to-read instructions.
“The government promised me a boat but never delivered,” said Maneewat Poravitboonsern, a shop owner from Nakhon Sawan whose house has been flooded since early October. “But after I took the free shuttle to IKEA, I found a boat on sale there. It works great,” he added, referring to the “VATTERNOSK” 3-man boat he bought for only Bt999.
b. : What “Occupy” is all about and what it really wants:
1. See Moyers’ quote in c. below.
2. The most important chart of all:
We pay more taxes and they get more of the subsidies. And, the Republican candidates think this is good for us. Just think about it, if the top 5 industries on the chart received no subsidies and paid the same taxes as the rest of us, much of the federal budget deficit could be eliminated. Why can we not have a simple fair tax system?
c. Excerpts from a Bill Moyers (America’s last surviving patriot) speech to Citizens United:
“Evidence abounds that large inequalities undermine community life, reduces trust among citizens, and increases violence. In one major study from data collected over 30 years [by the epidemiologists Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett in their book: The Spirit Level: Why Greater Equality Makes Societies Stronger] the most consistent predictor of mental illness, infant mortality, educational achievements, teenage births, homicides, and incarceration, is economic inequality. And as Nobel Laureate Kenneth Arrow has written, “Vast inequalities of income weakens a society’s sense of mutual concern…The sense that we are all members of the social order is vital to the meaning of civilization.”
d. How To Talk Like A Republican (the new American Lexicon):
From Frank Luntz Republican Party consultant in a memorandum to Party leaders and regulars:
Damn, I thought illegal aliens were what one called Mexicans and undocumented workers referred to everyone else.
e. Testosterone Chronicles:
• When looking at pictures of immoral acts, women’s judgments of severity correlate with higher levels of activation in emotion centers of the brain, suggesting concern for victims, whereas men show higher activation in areas that might involve deployment of principles (Carla Harenski and collaborators).
What this seems to me to mean, if one can generalize it to a gender based approach to public policy, is:
“For men, first punish the guilty and for women, first protect the innocent.”
f. The Words of Barry Goldwater, another American Patriot:
“Religious factions will go on imposing their will on others unless the decent people connected to them recognize that religion has no place in public policy. They must learn to make their views known without trying to make their views the only alternatives.”
Noun. An economy that is driven by or that disproportionately benefits wealthy people, or one where the creation of wealth is the principal goal.
[Blend of pluto-(wealth) and economy.]