WHAT DO YOU MEAN, "THIS ISN'T UNDERGROUND PARKING?"

Just another example of women drivers.

When the officer asked the eldery lady, "What were you thinking?"

She responded, "You mean, This isn't underground parking? Well, where's the exit? "

Iraq, Mr. President, is a failed state. It failed when we toppled Saddam.

IT ALL STARTED WITH GERTRUDE BELL AND HER DAMN MAP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gertrude_Bell : The lady who, from the remnants of the crumbled Ottoman Empire, drew the national boundaries of Iraq. She split the Shi'ite tribes into Iranian and Iraqi with a line on a map and a flag design.
Churchill refused to call Iran and Iraq nations, he called them, "tribes with flags."

I knew there was a way I could blame this war on a woman! I don't know why not; George is blaming the war on the Iraqis. You know Hitler blamed the German people for falling short of his vision of the Third Reich.





I get so sick, sick, sick, of hearing, "we cannot afford to let Iraq become a failed state." Woes of the Failed State" has become the new song sung by the same tired old Republican singers: Bush, Cheney, McCain, and Graham.
O.K., then, "what is a successful state?"
Is it one in which Disney Baghdad opens for business in 2014, or 2022, or 2055? A secure country where American Airlines runs two hundred tourist flights a day in and out of Baghdad International? (at the cost of how many American lives, and how many trillions of dollars? Yes, I said trillions-- good bye health care, good bye Social Security, good bye, your children's future -- Hello, inflation. Hello, nine dollar a gallon gas and the eleven dollar hamburger. DON'T THINK IT CAN'T HAPPEN).
You ask, "how do we accomplish that? I mean, peace in the Middle East?"
Think about it; I MEAN REALLY THINK ABOUT IT. (quit thinking about that Genii in a lamp -- we won't find one ).
Let's consider the obstacles: First, Iraq had a population of twenty plus million, over two million Iraqi citizens have fled the country, that's over ten percent of the population. These were the wealthy Iraqis. They had the means to flee, so they did, taking their education and money with them. Yes, the educated class of Iraq is now gone, just the thugs and the poor left. Secondly, it is estimated by a Johns Hopkins survey group, the number of war dead is approaching one million. God only knows how many orphans, how many injured, how many injured orphans, and how many of those left blame somebody for their losses. I know if my brother, mother, or father were killed, maimed, or disfigured, I would want some payback, an eye and a tooth for starters.
Are these, perhaps, the "dead enders" our vice president talked about once, before he realized there was no dead end on our freeway to hell. No, it will be war without end for us if we stay, but do realize, we will not stay.
Keep in mind, the Iraqi natives do not have to win against us, they only have to wait till we go home, then they will claim to have won--without winning a single battle (and who said this was not like Vietnam)).
Forcing America out is only one of the goals of those who live there. The insurgents, foreign fighters, Sunni, Shi'ite will all have difficult goals after we're gone. Goals in the Middle East have always been reached by overcoming difficult obstacles, and each obstacle has been hurdled by killing people. Life is cheap in the Middle East, cheaper than oil.
So, to get back on point, how many maimed and mad? As a guess (and this is only a reasoned guess), two million. That is a grand total for maimed, mad, dead, and gone -- five million.
Another five million are hiding, afraid to come out. They are the young, the old, the doctor, the shopkeeper, the artist, the peaceful. They will come out only a few minutes a day to collect what is necessary to live -- food, water, maybe some gas for lamps or generators. They will then go home and pray no one kicks down their door, and also pray for peace.
The remaining ten million Iraqis live in areas of Iraq which are the quiet, successful provinces. Some of them are rebuilding. The Kurds in the north of Iraq are a success story. They are happy Saddam is gone.
Most all are happy Saddam is gone, especially the Shi'ite. If you remember, Saddam kept the Shi'ite down on the farm, groveling for a bit of the oil revenue, buying and selling rugs, cowering in fear of Saddam's army, his warrior class of thugs, his Republican Guard.
The Shi'ite are now armed, black-eyed crazy, and fanatically unafraid. They are also willing to commit genocide against the Sunni to control Iraq's oil riches. For the Sunni, it is the fight of their lives, and the unspoken truth is we are on their side. We realize an emboldened and radicalized Shi'ite Iraqi population will join with their Iranian brothers, who are also Shi'ite. Then the Iranian and Iraqi Shi'ite will join forces with their Syrian and Lebanese brothers, who are the Hezbollah Shi'ite. This Shi'ite superpower will turn against the Iraqi, Kuwaiti, and Saudi Arabian Sunni. Once this war has been waged and many, many have died, Iran will have been weakened, Iraq destroyed, Tehran and Riyadh will be in flames, the Kurds in Turkey and Kurdistan will be emboldened to move against the oilfields in the south of Iraq. The Saudis will welcome their help (the Saudis have enough oil). The Iranians will ask the Russians to intervene, and they will, then........I don't want to think about then.
Why did we do this? I mean, really? Will someone please lock that dumb motherfucker of a president of ours up. Please. Good Gravy!

Things you are not allowed to see on Blogger.

These are puppies. Should I show pictures of these puppies being shot-- one by one, I suspect that would be O.K. on blogger. But if you show naked ugly girls, or an old fart dressed up as a flasher wearing a big rubber facsimile of a ding-dong, Blogger will take your picture and leave you a little x in its place -- with no explanation. I love to blog, and I guess it's A-o.k. for them to strike down anything I put up they don't like because they deem it tasteless, and because they can. Yes, I am tasteless and tacky. It doesn't really bother me that someone strikes down with a x my bad taste and tackiness. (I am often censored in public; people look at me with pity while I laugh and laugh at something I said and thought was funny, only to realize I am the only one laughing). Blogger never send me an e-mail informing me of their position or reasoning for such censorship.
Ebay has a policy of informing you why they take down items they consider inappropriate for sale. They send you a polite and correct e-mail explaining to you why your shit is unworthy for consideration by normal people for purchase. Had they just sent me a picture of a thug with a gun captioned " WRONG," I would have laughed and admired them for their boldness and confidence in their own good sense. But the snotty e-mail informing me authentic Adolph Hitler birthday postcards from 1937 were racist, elicited the following response from me:
Dearest Ebay,
I cannot understand why you pulled my listing for racism. The postcards of Hitler were from 1937. They were only pictures of him in his pretty uniform. I can understand the charge of "racist" if I were peddling copies of Mein Kampf, but I was not. As a matter of face, upon reflection I do not believe Hitler's racism was his defining quality. I believe all evidence points to Hitler being, more than anything, a killer. Killer defines Hitler. Just as racist doesn't define J.Edgar Hoover -- who ran the F.B.I. for years and years without a black face in the whole organization (or a brown one, or a red one). Did racism define ten of the first sixteen Presidents of the United States who owned slaves? No, they were remembered for other things. Hitler should be remembered for being personally responsible for thirty or forty million deaths. These deaths were not only of Jews and Blacks ( the people who Hitler hated the most). Hitler was first and foremost an equal opportunity killer. He would have you killed if you were white, German, black or white American, Chinese, Polish, or Jewish. He was a killer with the power and the willingness to kill (we have one of those in the presidency now). We have seen them before, and we will see them again -- but I still think I should be allowed to sell their birthday postcards.

As for Blogger, I really don't much mind. I wish my free speech was more free. I just know my censor is some Librarian type with thick glasses who wouldn't say "shit" if she had a mouthful of it. Oh, Land of the Free? , where are you?

Water in Zero Gravity

Water in Zero Gravity and The Theory of Everything

The above clip is of water in zero gravity. It is in what is referred to in science as "a perfect state." Perfect state is what scientist call anything approaching a circle (if I put on anymore weight, I too will be approaching a "perfect state," but my doctor will disagree with this confused definition of "perfection").

Fire also burns in a perfect state in zero gravity; that's why it is so dangerous. As the burning object floats around in a ball consuming on all sides the much richer oxygen found on board all spacecraft, it searches for other things to burn, spreading quickly, easily, leaving only smoke and poisonous gas for those still alive to breath.

I have been on a science kick for the last week or so, and when I get on a science kick I begin to speculate on the "Theory of Everything." For those of you who have never heard of the "Theory of Everything," it is a field of study which captures the imagination of physicist, chemist, mathematicians, and astronomers alike. They are all looking for what is called the "Grand Unified Theory." They often wear T-shirt which say, "I_Have_Guts". In theory, people with G.U.T.s have insight into how to reconcile Einstein's theories about space and time with Quantum Theory. They believe that when one runs the numbers for the big stuff (stars, black holes, gravity, light, and such), the numbers should also work for the little stuff (atoms, strong nuclear force, weak nuclear force, electrons, protons, gluons, photons, muons, and such) -- the numbers don't work.
So, as you can well imagine, the person who thinks up a simple explanation(there have been many not so simple explanations, most of which are unworkable) of why they don't work, and then shows the world how to reconcile gravity, light, the strong nuclear force, and the weak nuclear force in one simple mathematical expression which will be the "Theory of Everything," will be looked upon as the Great One the scientific world has been waiting for since Albert left us still counting on our fingers and toes.
"Theory of Everything" is what I have been reading about for the last week. Reading about only one subject on the computer you would think would be an efficient way to immerse oneself in an esoteric topic and get to the meat of the matter, not deviate from the quest until attaining the goal of knowing everything on the chosen subject; but, oh no, that is not what happened to me. What happened was, while I followed a thread spun by thinking about the "Theory of Everything", it occurred to me, (while considering the force of light and the force of gravity as well as electrostatic force, i.e. Coulomb's law, all fall off at a geometric rate which is inversely proportional to the square of the distance from their respective sources), that there might be further evidence of other symmetrical geometric fall-offs elsewhere: falling objects; objects dropped in water; the strong nuclear force; in the progression of prime numbers -- ah ha!!, in the distribution of primes!! (a real shot in the dark), I was in hopes of following phenomenon from nature to the nature of numbers. "Maybe the key to "The Answer" is also shadowed in the structure of existence itself!"

You see, all these things occurring in different forces in the same way made me thing these forces were not forces at all, but effects of a force. ( the ringing of the hammer on different materials, but not the hammer itself). I thought, altogether ready to have an EUREKA moment, with a little more work, the answer would come to me. The Physics Muse would flutter to my shoulder and whisper "The Answer" into my virgin ear. I could then call Stephen Hawkins to confirm my findings and we could share the Nobel Prize!

I Googled prime numbers--no answer. I Googled larger and larger primes--still no answer. I then found out large primes are important to codes, codes for banks, credit card companies, the Federal Reserve, Department of Motor Vehicles. Then I began to get interested in cryptology. Then in the early cypher machines, machines used to help us win World War 2. All this information was only a Google click away. And each click led me further and further away from my Noble Prize. I fell asleep dreaming of my Nobel Prize. Then I had a dream. I was scrolling down post on blogs. There was one about apes, then one about George Bush, and then the one I clicked on, and this is what happened:

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Yes, it is The Nobel Prize!!, and it was all mine!!! What happened? It slipped from my fingers and "Ther Answer" slipped from my thoughts. WOe is me, woe is me. Sleep and forgetfullness more important than the Noble Prize. I could cry.

Art Frahm painted the same situation over and over: a leggy girl carring a bag of grocerys, much to her surprise, looses her panties. WoW!, Art?

Jerry's back, and he's never been more himself !!

AP NEWSWIRE:>>>JAN>>>17>>>...Jerry Lewis grew a clone in his bathroom in the early 1980's. The almost one billion dollars of private research for cloning technology was skimmed from money raised by "Jerry's kids," and I don't mean his seven biological children. (It was Jerry's disappointment in them which initially led him to the idea of cloning).
Jerry's estate lawyer, Lewis "Scooter" Libby, leaked this story to the SUN yesterday.
A gorgeous SUN reporter got the old legal geezer snookered and then squeeeezed it out of him. Let me tell you, Scooter's no friend of Jerry's -- but what do you expect from a lawyer?
The SUN is saving the story until Jerry's death. (which won't be long -- just look at him!!! )
Jerry's luck is getting worse and worse: he has had a heart attack; he's a drug addict; he's had open heart surgery; suffers from diabetes and a sugar addiction; pulmonary fibrosis; and his star on the Hollywood walk of fame has cracked right down the middle. GOOD GOD!!!!!



"Little Jerry," at twelve years old. Jerry's staff of doctors are not sure if he is 1/2 she, or just likes to wear dresses. "Little Jerry" is the sole inheritor of Jerry's vast fortune. (his other kids are shit out of luck).




"Little Jerry" when he was just a cute little homunculi floating around in his clonebox.